#tool steriliser

[monsterkissed]

anyway my favourite AI interaction is when i was trying to see if claude2 would comment on the same aspects of my work that regular human commenters do (as part of a broader scheme to see if it could be useful to ppl who want to comment more on fics but don't know what to say/how to word it) and instead it called me out for problematic shipping

[mbpharmacy123]

Buy sterilisers for baby bottles to maintain hygiene and safety every day

Sterilisers for baby bottles are essential for keeping feeding items clean and free from germs. Designed for convenience, these sterilisers support busy parents with quick and reliable cleaning options, including electric, microwave, and UV models. Each type is crafted to remove harmful bacteria without using harsh chemicals, helping you provide a safe feeding experience for your little one. With a range of styles to fit your routine and preferences, buying a baby bottle steriliser is a smart addition to your newborn care essentials.

[johnnycadesmuse]

· ˚ ༘ ♡ i'll crawl home to her

— johnny cade x reader

song 𝄞 work song by hozier

warnings: blood, talks of fighting , suggestive if you squint

the sound of crickets chirped outside of your window as you slept softly, dreaming of nothing except an occasional flash of a soft memory that you once lived.

as your body fell in to a deeper and deeper sleep, it took you a while to hear the tapping outside of your window. the crickets could no longer be heard as the sound of tapping got louder and more aggressive, followed by a few whispers of what sounded like somebody saying your name.

you rubbed your eyes, still in a stupor as you climbed out of bed, dragging your feet toward the source of the disruptive noise.

you open your lace curtains to see your boyfriend Johnny sitting on the roof of your garage next to your window, waiting patiently for you to let him in. "hey baby" he smirked at you, climbing into your room after you opened the window a bit more so that he could fit. "you okay? is it your parents" you asked, rubbing your eyes.

it had occurred to him that he had awoken you from your beauty sleep, it had also occurred to him that you had forgotten about him.

after every rumble, instead of going to the Curtis home to get patched up, he would come to you. it became a ritual for the both of you, a moment of shared intimacy as you mended his wounds and kissed them better before snuggling to sleep or talking all night.

he walked over to your bedside table to click on the lamp, basking the room in a soft warm glow, allowing you to see him better. you gasped, putting your hands over your mouth as you realised why he was here.

it's not that you had forgotten your ritual as you knew there was a rumble that he would be attending that night. you had planned to stay up and wait for him, a first aid kit by your bedside as you sat in the dark and allowed time to pass. unfortunately, too much time had passed, causing you to fall asleep. now, as your battered and bruised boyfriend stood before you, an immense wave of guilt washed over you.

"i'm so sorry honey! I fell asleep because I waited-" but before you could finish your ramblings, Johnny cut you off with a passionate kiss, his hand on your waist. he grimaced into the kiss as the cut on his lip was too deep to ignore, but just your lips on his already started to make it feel better.

"it's okay baby, I know you didn't forget. even if you had, it wouldn't matter to me. just as long as i'm here with you." he smiled, cupping your face with your hands.

you placed a kiss on his forehead before leading him to your bed. he sat down on the mattress, unlacing his shoes before placing them at the end of your bedpost. he shrugged his jacket off and threw it on top of his shoes. "you wanna change?" you asked as you got the first aid kit ready, gesturing to the bottom drawer of your dresser where you kept some extra clothes for him.

he nodded, standing up and pulling the drawer open, pulling out a pair of pyjama shorts. he slipped off his clothes, keeping only his boxers on.

after getting changed and adding his clothes to the pile, he sat back down on your bed, waiting for you to finish prepping. "you know..." he began, rubbing his neck, "you don't gotta do all that. i'm fine with just a bandaid or something"

you gave him a look before softly laughing before returning back to your station, dipping your "tools" into alcohol to sterilise them as by the looks of it, Johnny would be needing stitches.

some rumbles were worse than others as some would require a simply cleaning of the knuckles and a bandaid on the cheek, or there were others that were like the ones tonight. those rumbles were brutal, the kind of ones that were messier and rougher. and it seemed to you that Johnny may have gotten the worst of it.

after you finished prepping, you turned back to him to make an examination. you studied his body, seeing that there were a few bruises on his torso that were already started to grow darker. his knuckles were raw, so raw that it made you cringe.

on his face, the damage was worse. his eye was swollen, surrounded by a ring of dark purple, almost black. his cheek was cut open on the other side of his face, though not worse than the cut he got that was now replaced by the scar on the opposite side. his lip was busted open, blood somewhat smudged from your previous display of affection. "okay.." you whispered as you grabbed a cotton pad, soaking it in some alcohol. "you already know this, but it's gonna hurt."

"yeah I know" he said, stroking a hand over your hair as you got on your knees in front of him. you caught him smirking, making you raise an eyebrow.

"what?"

"this kinda reminds me of something" he chuckled, making you slap his chest, causing him to let out a loud hiss in pain.

"sorry baby" you gasped, though he was still smiling. you kissed the spot before returning your attention back to his hands. he made a fist with his hands, allowing you to see all of the cuts and deeper areas. you studied them for a moment before you began to dab the cotton onto his wounds. he groaned in pain, clenching his teeth as well as his knuckles. "I know baby, I know"

after a few hisses and a few more groans, you had finished with his knuckles and moved on to the next thing which was his chest.

"okay baby, you might need to stand for this okay? you think you can?"

"yeah, I ain't disabled." he laughed, making you chuckle. "I think one of my ribs is bruised, maybe I even broke one."

"nah, if you broke one you'd be in a lot more pain." you said as you looked closely at the dark spots. "i'm gonna touch your chest okay?" you informed him and he nodded in response.

after this many sessions of playing doctor, you had learned a lot. you also got to know his body better. certain areas made Johnny flinch or shiver, others made him lean into your touch more. the chest was a grey area as it depended on the damage that had been done. tonight, it was on the more intense side.

as you began to press on his torso where his ribs hid, he cringed at the sensation, but didn't yelp. "okay, I think they're only bruised"

"that's good, yeah?" he asked somewhat nervously.

"well, if you consider having bruised ribs good then, yes."

after wrapping a bandage around his torso, you moved onto his face. "so.." you began as you started to clean his cut. "who won?"

"us" he smirked proudly, "man, it was close though. you know, at one point some Soc tackled me and I thought that I was a goner, but then-" as he recounted moments of glory and others of defeat, you couldn't help but admire your beautiful boyfriend.

you smiled whenever his face lit up in excitement or even when he scrunched his eyebrows in frustration. but the best part of it all was that he was okay, and that he was here with you.

after a few more stories exchanged and more cotton pads used, he was fully mended.

you stood up in front of him, tossing the trash into the bin that was next to your bedside table. Johnny pulled you back into his, his chin on your tummy as he looked at you in adoration. you smiled back down at him, stroking your fingers through his dark hair.

he looked at you mischievously before he slowly lifted up your shirt, laying open mouth kisses all over your stomach.

you giggled at the tickling sensation before straddling his lap. you tucked a stray strand behind his ear as your both stared deeply into one another's eyes. "thank you."

"for what?" you asked confused as the both of you got settled under the covers, your head on his chest.

"for everything."

@avroravia @seilahdiaries @r0seb100d @johnnycadesslut

[balrogballs]

Balls you know that rumor that Tolkien tried writing something explicit but he thought it was so bad he locked it away and Tolkien Estate is trying to pretend it doesn’t exist?? Who do you think the couple that got official Tolkien smut could’ve been

Thank you for this enlightening question.

My first thought was either Celedriel or Celrond, for the greatest self-insert potential, considering they’re both Very Married Couples. Or if we’re going by his own self-professed self-insert, potentially Beren and Lúthien. Aragorn and Arwen is another possibility, but even in the Appendix story, Elrond is a bit of a third wheel/gooseberry in this context, so it would have been a bit too much like having the Eye of Sauron on your ass.

Now, if the Tolkien Estate is pretending it does not exist, that leads me to hope pray think that there’s some nasty fucking going on, or fucking that Tolkien himself must have considered nasty. Because the Estate doesn’t seem too opposed to sexual connotations in general, considering Arwen and Aragorn spent the entire original trilogy fucking through their clothes and the Hobbit films had Kili as somewhat of a Casanova figure, in the only film I remember from said trilogy. They may not have approved as such, but neither were they censored, as far as I remember.

My theory is this: it is not a sexual union as such being portrayed. It is, instead, an act of self love.

It is Fëanor, having a wank, ass out under Starlight.

Is this particularly nasty? No. But keep in mind this is the man who did, in fact, write LaCE. So I don’t think Galadriel and Thuringwethil are joining their pussies in union any time soon. So, my theory is that it’s Fëanor having a sad, angry wank alone in his studio. There may have been some hammer/other tool insertion going on.

This too, the Estate may have had an issue with. After all, and I don’t remember much about Fëanor’s hammer or the TV show’s portrayal of it, but I distinctly recall Charles Edwards’ fingers curling comfortably around it. It’s not necessarily a continuity error, but it certainly does make one wince in hindsight, thinking about where the hammer had been. Or even forgetting the show. Does it sit in Formenos still? Is it a museum exhibit? Or a trinket in a market stall? Or, Valar forbid, has it been turned into a public relic, much like a lucky-stone or wishing-well, that passerby touch to ensure good luck and skilful crafting? Has it been cleaned? Do the Noldor in Aman know about sterilisation? Do the Noldor in Aman know about sterilisation?

I digress. I feel like Fëanor touching himself would make perfect sense. He is, after all, a tortured artistic genius. Spending hours in his workshop, thanklessly working on his craft. In a way, the written word is like a Silmaril. Three Silmarils. Three LotR books. Perhaps dear Fëanor got a little kinky with it. Perhaps there was some ballbusting involved. Perhaps the hammer, or some other crafting tool, makes a reappearance in this regard. I am certain it was lovingly described, with a worrying degree of realism.

One day, I will find it.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The House Guest 8

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Bucky Barnes

Summary: an old acquaintance calls in a favour, leaving you with an unexpected house guest.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You grab towels from the linen closet and turn down the hall. Only a few steps before you reach the bathroom door. You peek inside as Bucky examines his wounds. You hold back the salty bile at the back of your throat as you see the torn flesh. He’s entirely unfazed by the blood oozing from him. 

“Um, here,” you choke out. 

“Thanks,” he reaches to take one of the dark towels. You suppose you’ll need new ones.  

You stand silent and confused. It’s all very strange. You just watched a man wrestle a bear and he doesn’t seem to care a lick about any of it. 

His shirt is shredded and red and dumped in the sink. His bare chest rises and falls calmly, a cluster of dark hair at the center that spreads across his bulky chest. His stomach is just as thick as a layer of extra flesh bulges out above his boxers. He’s built better than any of the locals with their variety of beer belly or rail thin. 

“Here, put some pressure on it for me,” he orders. 

“Huh?” you blink before you react. 

You put the towels on the counter as you step into the cramped bath room. You put your hands on the towel against his side and he reaches for the zip-up pouch on the counter. Black, leather, entirely unfamiliar. He flips it open and reveals an array of scissors, tweezers, and other medical tools. 

“You travel with that?” You ask, keeping your eyes up as you struggle not to glance at your hands. 

“Never know,” he shrugs as grabs your bottle of rubbing alcohol. 

“Never know what? When you’ll wrestle a deadly creature?” 

“Like I said, I’ve faced worse,” he insists, then puts his free hand against yours, pushing it hard against him. “More. Lean into it. You need to stem it just a little.” 

You gulp and nod. “Are you okay? Dizzy?” You ask.

“Fine. Let’s just get this cleaned up.” He turns his attention back to the kit as he wets a thick wad of gauze with the alcohol. “I’m gonna sterilise bit by bit. You move the towel, keep it firm...” 

You once more dip your chin. You hold your breath as you work in tandem. You’re silent. You swallow loudly and wobble. 

“Don’t lock your knees,” he warns. “And breathe.” 

You exhale and steady your legs. He should be the one feeling so woozy. As he works around the towel and you move it to reveal the bits of mangled skin, it’s a little less unnerving. His confidence helps to sooth your hammering heart. 

He tosses the bloodied gauze in the bin and grabs a long curved needle from the kit. Oh god. You don’t know if you can handle that. You shift to lean against the doorway. 

“You don’t deal with this a lot? All the way up here, what would do in an emergency?” He wonders. 

You peel your dry tongue from the roof of your mouth, “is this not one?” 

He chuckles. “Not even close.” 

He sterilizes the needle and threads it. You can only watch helplessly. The house is cold and yet heat roils off of him. Your brow is beaded with sweat and your back burns. 

The longer you stand in the tight space of the bathroom, the more you’re aware of his nudity. The top of his boxers is stained with blood. Still he works without hesitation. As he pokes the metal tip through his flesh, you hold back a wretch. 

“Alright,” he puts his hand against the towel. “Go.” 

“I’m sorry, it’s just...  lot.” 

“It’s good. I got it from here,” he turns the face the mirror. “Go on, wash your hands. Have some water. And breathe. I don’t need you fainting.” 

You don’t argue. You just go. You wash your hands for a long time in the kitchen, scrubbing your palms and nails. As you shut off the tap, you remember your coffee, left outside in the panic of your furry encounter. It’s probably cold now and you’re not going back outside. Not yet. 

There’s a bit left in the pot. You claim it in a new mug and take out your phone from your robe pocket. You can still smell the bloody iron. You have bars. 

You don’t think, you just tap Sam’s name and wait as you scowl over the table with your hand on your mug. It takes two tries for him to pick up and when he does, he sounds groggy. 

“Hey, what’s up?” 

“He fought a bear,” you say, if only to hear it out loud. 

“Bucky?” 

“Who else? Sam, he’s bleeding all over my bathroom.” 

“Well, did you call someone?” He asks, not a glean of concern in his voice. 

“No, he said he didn’t need it. He’s sewing himself up. Sam, do you not—a bear. A bear.” 

“I mean, that man isn’t going to die because of a bear. His own stupidity, sure, but not that.” He chuckles. 

“Are you laughing?” You hiss. 

“It’s funny. I’m picturing it now. Oh, tell me you recorded it.” 

“Sam,” you snap. 

“Ah, come on. He’s fine. You’re fine. Is the bear fine?” He groans and you hear jostling on his end. 

“It ran off,” you say. 

“Then you know what, sounds like he did you a favour. He got rid of a pest,” he insists. “Just too bad you’re stuck with another type of pest.” 

“Which you brought here.” 

“You’re doing a service to your country,” he says. 

“Again, Canadian. I don’t know how you keep forgetting.” 

“I don’t but we’re close allies. NAFTA or whatever,” he snickers. “Take it easy, okay? He’s alive, you’re alive. Things are going well. I expected you to call a lot sooner.” 

“Splendid, well I’m calling now,” you retort. 

“And what exactly do you want? Should I come all the way up there and get him? Send a bus ticket? Or maybe I should have a serious conversation with ole Buck,” he taunts. 

You twitch. You don’t know what you want. You think you’re still in shock. 

“Look, I’m gonna send you some money, right? Take care of this fool,” he says. “Consider it sent and done. Now, I gotta go deal with Sarah. Trust me, she’ll have a few of her own words for me too.” 

“Fine, whatever, Sam. But we’re even after this. You don’t get to drop anymore fugitives on my doorstep.” 

“Ledger wiped,” he assures. “Go make sure the old man isn’t bleeding out.” 

[ameliathornromance]

Cage Fighter! Orc x Reader - Prolouge

A/N: Here it is! I've decided to kind of start the story backwards, from the very beginning of all of this 'going on the run' stuff. If there's any feedback you want to give on how you'd like to see the story go, please comment and I'll consider it when writing the next part. Enjoy the prolouge!

TWs: Orc loses a tooth, mention of drugs and an illegal cage fighting ring and violence.

--------------------------------------

The room you’d been given as a nurses office was grimy. The walls were spattered with black mould, the examiners table in the corner of the room had chunks of it’s mattress missing, exposing the yellowing sponge, which otherwise would have been clad in the same black faux plastic lining that was held together with duct tape.

You had done your best to sterilise the tools you’d been given, soaking them in alcohol, spraying them with other cleaning supplies and – for good measure – bleach.

Given how dirty the office was you’d been given, you doubted that your efforts to sustain a clean environment would do much. But something, was better than nothing.

Outside of your office, the muffled cheers of the ongoing cage match went on, accompanied with the occasional crack of bones breaking or hard slap of skin on skin as the two fighters collided in battle.

Sometimes, you wanted to cover your ears, sink into your imagination, pretend you were back in your residency, where everything was fine and well… Well, as ‘fine and well’ as it could be. You would try to imagine the clean and sterile office you shared with your fellow students, and their white coats, clean of any kind of bodily fluid, showing off their naïvety to the field of medicine.

But the harsh reality of your situation always came back to you, when the door leading out to the cage would be thumped on and in would stumble this evenings fighter.

Tonight, you were in charge of taking care of the Event organisers favourite toy: Big Money.

From what you knew – being given a file of medical information about the Orc – he was 6’3, was over 201 pounds of muscle and could throw what the Event Organisers so lovingly and excitedly called, ‘the Death Punch.’

That was detailed in the notes of the file. The rest of the medical information was pretty standard, he was aged 28, didn’t smoke, but drank quite heavily, wasn’t sexually active and had no known allergies or conditions.

And, as if hearing your thoughts, a hard thump came from the other side of your door.

You opened it and stepped aside to allow the Orc to enter. Unlike most other combatants, he came in steadily, as if he’d never been in a fight in the first place.

Without so much as a greeting, he sat on the table and looked at you expectantly. Grabbing your tools, you got to work.

There was no point in trying to talk to him. Ninety percent of the time, these fighters were too out of their minds on adrenaline or some kind of other substance to hold a proper conversation and could only answer your basic medical questions.

First, you examined his face.

While beat up, and slowly turning black and blue in certain places, there didn’t seem to be anything too damaged. The tell tale signs of broken bones were absent, as well as anything that would signal lasting damage.

“Can you tell me how many fingers I’m holding up?” You asked him. Holding up three fingers, the Orc grunted. “Three fingers.”

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[inky-duchess]

WIP Hospital: Surgery

*Meredith Grey monologue voice* Writers really batter their characters and sometimes the damage is so great that they have to be seen to by the professionals and if you've really messed them up, they may need surgery.

Before Surgery

Before any surgery, the patient must be prepared for the procedure. They will be prepped by nurses and doctors but there are things every patient must go through before the surgery especially if they undergo general anesthesia.

No drink/food for a set period of time before the surgery.

Removal of necessary hair

Possible enema but not always necessary

Thoroughly bathed and cleansed, the patient should not use any makeup, nail varnish or perfume

Tests maybe run prior to surgery such as blood tests

All piercings, protesthetics

The preparation of advance directives such as DNRs and wills etc

What is in an OR?

OR or operating room is where operations take place - or would be if your character was having surgery at hospital (they aren't, are they?)

Surgical Lights: Surgeons have to see why they are doing so high powered lighting is used to illuminate the patient and cavity.

Operating Tables: Operating tables are where the patient lies while the surgeons are trying to save their life. also known as surgical tables, are essential to any operating room.

Surgical Displays: These are screens that magnify the cavity for the OR, sort of like tvs that allow everyone a view of what's going on.

Blanket Warmers: Or warming cabinets. These are where the IV fluids, linens, and blankets are kept.

Scrub Sinks: This is where the surgeons abd nurses and technicians get washed up, sterilised and gowned.

Vital Signs Monitor: This is a machine that tracks the patient's heart rate, oxygen saturation, breathing rate and blood pressure.

Ventilator: A ventilator helps the patient breathe while on anesthesia.

Anesthesia Machine: This machine delivers anesthesia to the patient and monitors the level.

Diathermy or Electrocautery Machine: This is used to cut tissue and control bleeding

The Surgical Team

These are the people present in the OR besides the patient. It is up to them to keep the patient alive of course but to also ensure that safety and cleanliness are upheld.

Surgeon: Is the lead of the team and responsible for the planning and cutting of the patient. Most surgeons are specialists.

Surgical Assistant: They work alongside the surgeon, helping the surgeon.

Scrub Nurse: Scrub nurses are in charge of making sure everything stays sterile. They sterilise the surgical instruments and are in charge of minimalising contamination.

Anesthesiologist: The doctor who specialises in anesthesia who monitors the use of anaesthesia.

Circulating Nurse: Circulating nurses manage supplies, equipment and may run messages if needed outside the OR.

Observer: Sometimes med students or other surgeons will observe the surgery. They aren't essential.

General Surgerical Tools

These are just a few tools used with surgeries.

Scalpel – These are the blades used to cut into tissue.

#10: Scalpel with a large curved edge used for making large incisions.

#11: Scalpel with a triangular blade used to make short, shallow cuts.

#12: A small, crescent-shaped blade used to cut sutures

#15: used for short, precise cuts because of its small blade. Ideal for making short, precise incisions because of its small, curved cutting edge. Mostly used in cardiac surgery.

#17: Flat, chisel-like blade for narrow cuts

#18: Narrow, chisel blade for deep cuts and scraping

#20: Large curved blade, used when making a puncture or cut.

#21: Large curved blade, for slicing tissue and puncturing. commonly used for cutting tissue and other procedures that require a puncture or cut.

#22: Like the #10, it is flat and curved cutting edge, used on thick skin.

#23: Large blade that is slightly narrower but pointier

#24: Wide, flat blade with an angle used to make cuts at the corner, used to trim and strip

Forceps - are a gripping tool. Not to be confused with hemostats.

Allis Forceps: Have little teeth running along in them and are for firm tissue such as fascia.

Babcock Forceps: Smooth ended jawed forceps that are used for delicate tissue.

Dunhill Forceps: Small curved, serrated forceps used to hold vessels before ligation.

Lane Tissue Forceps: Forceps with interlocking teeth used to hold tough tissue

Littlewood Forceps: These forceps have blunt teeth, used for tough tissue as well as gaining entry through the umbilicus in laparoscopic surgery.

Sawtell Forceps: curved serrated forceps with a serrated end used to grip vessels

Spencer Wells: Can be curved or straight. They are used to clamp medium/large vessels before ligation

Debakey Forceps: Smooth forceps used for many things but used to grip tissue

Lanes Forceps: Toothed forceps used to grasp most tissues but not the bowel.

Gillies Forceps: Narrow forceps with teeth used on skin.

Scissors - are used to cut sutures and snip things during surgery.

Mayo Scissors: Heavy scissors with blunt ends, either curved or straight, used to cut thick tissue and sutures.

McIndoe Scissors: Curved scissors used to cut/dissect tissue

Hemostats - these are used to clamp vessels to prevent blood flow into the cavity the the surgeons are working in.

Adson Forceps: Can be straight or curved, with either semi-serrated tips or toothed tips, used to clamp vessels and tissues.

Artery Undermining Forceps: Toothed forceps, with ratchetted ringlets. Can be straight or angled, used to hold thick tissues during cardiothoracic surgeries

Bainbridge Forceps: Forceps with long jaws with serrated tips, used to clamp the bowel.

Crile Forceps: A clamp with horizontal, serrated jaws, that can be curved or straight. These are used in laparoscopical practices, for clamping tissue and vessels for cauterization and ligation.

Dandy Forceps: These forces are curved, with half-serrated jaws. Used to control the flow of blood.

Ferguson Angiotribe Forceps: Interlocking blades, curved or straight, used to clamp vessels to control blood flow.

Gemini Mixter Forceps: Curved and serrated, used to hold damaged and delicate vessels during cardiothoracic surgery.

Hartman Forceps: These are narrow, serrated, straight or curved but used primarily for left-handed surgeons. They are used to clamp small vessels.

Jacobson Forceps: Forceps with serrated curved jaws. Used for closing a wound or in tonsillectomies.

Kelly Forceps: Forceps with half-serrated jaws, either curved and straight. They are used for clamp

Kocher Hemostatic Forceps: Has serrated jaws and toothed tips. Used for grasping large blood vessels to control blood flow and holding dense tissue.

Lovelace Forceps: Forceps with fully serrated jaws, used for clamping vessels in gynecologic procedures.

Mikulicz Forceps: Half-serrated jaws with curved tips. Used for clamping the peritoneal sac during abdominal wall closure and the peritoneal tissues in the pelvic cavity.

Mixter Forceps: Right-angled jaws with longitudinal serrations, straight, curved patterns which can be half and fully-serrated. These are used for hard to reach places, used to hold tissue, blood vessels and stitches.

Mosquito Forceps: Short, serrated jaws used for incisions and thin tissues, usually before cauterization.

Rochester Carmalt Forceps: Long, wide serrated jaws. Used for grasping blood vessels.

Rochester Ochsner Forceps: These are used to objects and blood vessels during orthopedic procedures.

Retractors - used to pull back the flesh so the surgeon has better view

Langenbeck Retractor: Hook-shaped retractor, used to separate the edges of wounds. They can come in different sizes depending how deep you want the wound tract.

Norfolk and Norwich Retractor: This retractor is self-retaining, used to keep deep wounds open.

Travers Retractor: Also a self-retaining retractor, but used for much shallower wounds

Other Tools

Cauterization device: used to cauterizate blood vessels to prevent bleeding.

Needle Holder: Used for holding needles while suturing, it looks like a pair of scissors

Rampley Sponge Holding: used to store sponges and gauze

Towel clips: Used to keep towels and drapes in the place

Suction: This machine is sort of like a hose that sucks up blood and other fluids.

Surgical Stapler: Sort of what it says on the tin, a device that staples wounds together quickly.

Laparotomy Sponge/Lap Pad: Is an absorbent pad used to keep the cavity free of excess blood and fluid or to prevent too much bleeding.

Drapes: This is the cloth used to cover the patient and the operating table.

What to Wear to Surgery?

In surgery, contamination is always a fear so the surgeons and their team must dress accordingly in the OR. Most times the patient is draped or wearing a hospital gown.

Protective Cap: This is a cap that covers the hair. Worn by everyone.

Surgical Masks: Worn over the mouth and nose. Usually worn just by the surgical team.

Protective Eyewear: To shield the eyes from blood and debris. Usually worn just by the surgical team.

Gloves: Worn by the surgical team.

Gowns: These are long gowns worn over the scrubs. Worn by the surgical team.

Protective Shoe Covers: Worn over shoes of the surgical team.

Phrases used in the OR

Operations are high stress situations. Often communication is shortened to quick phrases.

Scalpel: Give me a scalpel

Clamp: Give me a clamp

Suction: Suck up this blood/liquid for me.

Retract: Hold back the tissue

Bovie: Give me the cautery equipment

Sponge count: Count the sponges and towels in case we left one in this here guy

Close: Stitch up the patient

Irrigation: Wash out the wound with water

Intubate: Insert a tube in the patient's throat to help them breath

Extubate: Remove the breathing tube

Airplane: Tilt the bed to expose a lateral portion or change the patient’s hemodynamics.

Donut: A support for the patient’s head after anesthesia.

Jump Room: Another OR prepped and waiting for the surgeon for another surgery

Types of Surgery

Surgeons don't just perform every kind of surgery. Most surgeons stick to a practicular specialty.

General Surgery: General surgery focuses on the abdominal organs.

Cardiothoracic Surgery: Deals with everything in the chest, eg. heart and lungs.

Orthopedic Surgery: Focuses on bones and muscle

Neurosurgery: This surgery focuses on the brain, spinal cord, and nervous system.

Plastic and Reconstructive Surgery: This surgery focuses on cosmetic surgery but also reconstructive procedures.

Pediatric Surgery: For babies, children and teenagers.

Vascular Surgery: Focuses on arteries and veins, everything on the vascular system.

Urology: Focuses on the urinary tract and male reproductive organs.

Otolaryngology (ENT): The ears, nose, and throat.

Gynecologic Surgery: Surgery focusing on the female reproductive system.

Examples of surgery

There are thousands of kinds of surgery but I've just listed a few well known ones here.

Appendectomy: Removal of the appendix

Cholecystectomy: Removal of the gallbladder

Coronary Artery Bypass Grafting (CABG): Bypass surgery performed to improve blood flow to the heart

Cesarean Section (C-section): The removal of a baby from the womb surgically.

Hysterectomy: Removal of the uterus.

Mastectomy: Removal of one or both breasts

Tonsillectomy: Removal of the tonsils.

Biopsy: Removal of tissue for examination.

Carotid Endarterectomy: Removal of blockages from in the arteries.

Debridement: Surgical removal of skin that is damaged or infected.

Dilation and Curettage (D&C): Removal of tissue from within the uterus.

Skin Graft: The planting of healthy skin over areas of damaged skin

Spinal Fusion: Joining two or more vertebrae

Rhinoplasty: Surgery to reconstruct or reshape the nose

Prostatectomy: Removal of the prostate gland

Hernia Repair: The repair of a hernia

Total Knee Replacement: The replacement of the knee with artificial components

Hip Replacement: Replacement of hip with artificial components.

Heart Valve Replacement and Repair: The repair of valves in the heart.

Aortic Aneurysm Repair: Repair of enlarged aorta to prevent rupture.

Pacemaker Installation: The installation of a pacemaker to regulate heartbeat.

Craniotomy: Opening up the skull to treat the brain for tumors, aneurysms or repairing damage.

Spinal Decompression: The relieving of pressure on the spinal cord.

Deep Brain Stimulation (DBS): This is the treatment of the brain with electrical pulses.

Breast Augmentation and Reconstruction: The implantion of artificial breasts for cosmetic reasons or to replace them after trauma or removal.

Liposuction: The removal of excess fat in the body.

Ovarian Cystectomy: Removal of ovarian cysts.

Endometriosis Surgery: Removal of endometrial tissue outside the uterus.

Nephrectomy: Removal of kidney

Ureteroscopy: Removal of obstruction in urinary tract

Vasectomy: The clipping of the male reproductive tracts to prevent fertility.

Colectomy: Partial or total removal of the colon.

Gastrectomy: Partial or total removal of the stomach.

Esophagectomy: Partial or total removal of the esophagus

Septoplasty: The correction of a deviated or damage septum.

Cochlear Implantation: Surgery to grant the hard of hearing or deaf to hear without hearing aids due to an implanted device.

The Winchester Method

Let's be honest your character is likely not going to hospital for their needed surgery. That bullet is going to be removed elsewhere and that appendix is coming out on the run. We're writers, we sort of use medicine like a fucking jump rope. THIS IS FOR FICTIONAL PURPOSES ONLY. The basic needs of make your own surgerical tools:

Sterilisation: You need something to sterilise your "tools". You can use alcoholic spirits or boiling water or open fire.

Needle and thread: You have to close yourself up, both need to be sterilised. See my post on stitches.

Cauterization: You need may need something to cauterise the wounds or stop bleeding. Something hot, sterile and metal like the flat of a knife can work short term.

Scalpel: You will need a sharp knife, sterilised and appropriately sized like a small paring knife or the blade of a Swiss army knife.

Bandages and towels: Something to soak up blood and cover. Torn up clothes or sheets can be used but most be sterilised.

Anesthesia/Pain Management: Something for the pain. Strong drink can be used to dull the pain but so can over the counter meds.

[soon-palestine]

Palestinian Territory - The Israeli authorities continue to enforce their ongoing arbitrary blockade of the Gaza Strip, refusing to allow humanitarian aid and necessities that are essential for survival—such as cleaning and personal hygiene supplies—into the Strip. This comes amid the spread of infectious diseases and on top of the precarious living conditions faced by the approximately 2.3 million Palestinians in the enclave, constituting a perpetuation of Israel’s comprehensive crime of genocide, which began on 7 October 2023.

Euro-Med Human Rights Monitor emphasises that the consequences of Israel’s intentional worsening of the humanitarian situation in the Gaza Strip, by blocking people’s access to cleaning and personal hygiene products, medical equipment, and sterilisation supplies, are dire. Nothing justifies subjecting the population to conditions that can cause widespread death, including by causing the spread of serious skin diseases and and infections, including hepatitis.

Israel continues to systematically and arbitrarily deny hygiene supplies and equipment to all Gaza Strip residents, exacerbating the catastrophic health crisis that Israel has caused there. This crisis has been made worse by the population’s forced, widespread, and repeatedly occurring displacement, as well as the lack of personal hygiene supplies and disinfectants in shelters and camps housing hundreds of thousands of displaced people. Israel continues to prevent and obstruct the entry of the most basic supplies into the Strip, creating conditions that are ripe for the spread of infectious diseases, water pollution, and the absence of sanitation services, as Israeli army forces have destroyed these facilities.

Since the beginning of the genocide nearly, Israel has arbitrarily closed crossings into the Gaza Strip, blocking the entry of humanitarian supplies and the flow of food and water. These actions have resulted in a dangerous accumulation of crises that directly threaten the lives and health of the Gaza Strip’s residents, most notably due to their lack of access to food, clean water, medicines, medical supplies, sanitary tools, and cleaning supplies.

Aya Kamal Ashour Abed, a 20-year-old displaced mother of two at the Deir al-Balah Preparatory School for Girls in the central Gaza Strip, spoke with the Euro-Med Monitor team. “We are more than 30 people living in this classroom for about nine months,” she stated. “A few months ago, we numbered roughly 70, but after some of the displaced individuals relocated to tents outside the school, our numbers dropped somewhat.

“We only receive cleaning and personal hygiene supplies in small quantities every two or three months, despite the fact that our number is very high and we require them constantly,” Abed continued. “Sanitation supplies, like tissues, soap, and shampoo, are extremely expensive [or] even nonexistent in the markets.”

Added Abed, “A bar of soap, for instance, now costs 30 shekels (roughly nine USD) while a bottle of shampoo costs 90 shekels (roughly 25 USD). We do not have anything to eat, so how can we afford these amounts for basic hygiene?”

Abed, who was displaced from her home in the Jabalia refugee camp in the northern Gaza Strip following its bombing last October, said that her two sons had become afflicted with allergies and bacteria, for which she is unable to provide ointments because they are unavailable in UNRWA clinics. “I showed my son to the doctor, and he told me that his entire body is seriously infected with bacteria due to poor hygiene,” Abed told Euro-Med Monitor.

Obtaining sanitary pads—which are pricey and hard to find in local markets—is one of her biggest challenges. “Even though my children’s diapers are completely unusable, I have to cut them into tiny pieces and use them as sanitary pads,” Abed explained. “During my period, I also have to use a single pad for the entire day, which has led to numerous infections and rashes.”

Approximately 680,000 women and girls in the Gaza Strip are of reproductive age. These individuals lack access to menstrual pads and other essentials, and also face other challenges such as inadequate access to water, toilets, various hygiene products, and privacy. Additionally, they must use contaminated or unsterilised materials, which puts them at risk of developing infections that can lead to infertility and uterine cancer.

Since Israel has cut off electricity to the Gaza Strip, there is a growing risk to all residents caused by waste accumulation and sewage flooding of roads and markets due to the inability to drain it. Israel has destroyed most of the Strip’s vital infrastructure, including sewage networks, and forced over two million people—the majority of whom have been displaced more than once—into shelters and tents that lack the basic necessities of life, personal hygiene, and health care.

Forty-two-year-old Mohammed Saad Abu Haitham said that his family of eight, which resides in a tent in the Mawasi neighborhood of Khan Yunis in the southern Gaza Strip, is severely impacted by the lack of cleaning supplies, laundry detergent, and bar soap. Due to its scarcity, soap is unusually expensive and therefore difficult to purchase.

“We do not have the money to buy enough meals for our children, so we cannot buy cleaning materials and soap in light of their high prices and the lack of availability,” Abu Haitham told the Euro-Med Monitor team. “My spouse and kids’ hair has been infected with lice, and we all have skin diseases as a result of not washing and not using enough soap and shampoo.”

Food dyes are used instead of traditional dyes for making liquid soap and sterilisation products, which have not entered the Gaza Strip in months due to the Israeli closure of the crossings and the imposition of an arbitrary siege. These alternative and primitive cleaning products are made locally, are unsafe, and are generally insufficient in both quality and quantity when sold in the markets of the central and southern Gaza Strip.

Tens of thousands of cases of skin diseases, including eczema, have been reported to medical facilities as having cropped up in shelters and camps for displaced people living in tents. This is particularly concerning for women, as eczema often appears on the hands of people working to clean food utensils using antiquated and dangerous materials. Meanwhile, reports from the United Nations indicate that skin rashes and skin infections, especially among children, are sharply increasing in the Strip.

The Israeli authorities have placed an arbitrary and oppressive siege on the Palestinian people there, squeezing them into a tiny area with exceedingly limited resources; denying them access to food, clean water, and other necessities; and leaving them exposed to extreme heat.

The right to dignity is an internationally recognised human right that protects people from humiliation, among other forms of unethical treatment. It is meant to ensure fairness by providing the means for people to live in dignity, as well as other fundamental needs and rights, like the right to health and the right to water and sanitation. These rights are essential to maintaining human dignity and preserving the lives of the populace.

The only way to guarantee the rights of Gaza Strip residents is to put an end to Israel’s crime of genocide, lift the arbitrary siege on the Strip, and rescue what remains of the currently uninhabitable region. Delays will either cause the region to irreversibly deteriorate, or incur significant costs in terms of civilian lives and health.

The international community is required to guarantee the entry of humanitarian aid into the Gaza Strip, including the entry of non-food essentials needed to respond to the dire circumstances faced by the Strip’s entire population. Euro-Med Monitor stresses that swift and effective action must be taken to safely deliver aid to civilians across the entire Strip, including the northern section, which is particularly isolated right now. Additionally, the international community must prioritise providing adequate supplies of personal and family hygiene products, as well as products for menstruating individuals, plus sexual and reproductive health care services to prevent and mitigate further harm to women and children in particular, and the entire Palestinian population in general. These actions are mandated by international human rights law and relevant international obligations.

Pressure needs to be put on Israel, as the occupying force, to maintain sanitation facilities and services in the Gaza Strip, as well as to guarantee the safety of the technicians charged with repairing and renovating water lines and their various sources. The main water pipelines that enter the Strip need to be restored, particularly those that enter it from the north.

In addition to ensuring the entry of enough fuel to operate the Gaza Strip’s water and sanitation infrastructure, including desalination plants, water wells, and mobile toilets, it is crucial to exert pressure on Israel to permit the entry of materials required for repair work and rehabilitation of civilian infrastructure. These services are essential to the civilian population’s survival in the Strip, and will protect them from the threat of further health disasters.

[inhurtandincomfort]

🧵 - Sew their lips shut for Eldwin

Thank you for the ask!! From this ask game

*+*

Eldwin knocked on the door to Clyde's office, three gentle raps on polished wood. He stepped back, smoothed the creases in his glove and waited until a dull "Enter," came from within. He opened the door and stepped inside with a small bow, his fist pressed to his chest.

"You wanted to see me sir?" Without raising his head, his eyes flickered around the room, taking mental notes; Clyde sat behind his desk as always, looking bored with stacks of paper in front of him. A window was on the left side, open today in warm weather with no breeze. They were on the second floor. A sheet was draped over one of the chairs - peculiar. Stood off to to the right, straight-backed with his hands clasped in front of him, looking pointedly anywhere but at Clyde, was Jowan. He perked up when he saw Eldwin, raising his hand in greeting. Eldwin gave a small nod of recognition before fixing his gaze to the floor.

"Come the weeks end, we will be meeting with some high-ranking government officials who are interested in our work," Clyde announced, leaning back in his chair with folded arms. "They will want to see you, and decide whether we are suitable to keep you."

Eldwin glanced up, careful not to make eye contact. Keep him?

"You are considered a dangerous specimen. We've invested a lot of time and money to be able to keep you for this long as a warlock; now you've proven valuable, the government want to seize you for themselves. I trust I don't need to spell it out for you."

Previously, his fear of being captured by authorities was because he would be executed. Since the aether harvests had apparently proved fruitful, he had a new fear - spending the rest of his life locked in a lab to serve as nothing more than an aether supply. The Black Syndicate were awful; but they at least gave him some level of freedom. He had to be grateful for that.

Clyde continued, "We are on good terms with the people in charge. But if they think for even a second that we don't have you completely under control, they will deem us unfit as your keeper. All that effort spent on you will have been a waste. I don't want that. You, certainly, do not want that." He rose and walked around to Eldwin, casting a towering shadow over him. "You understand what this means?"

"Yes sir." Eldwin nodded once, not moving from his respectful pose. "I will behave." This time he meant it. The blow to his pride was a small price to pay for freedom.

"There is no room for even the slightest error. We have plans in place to ensure everything goes smoothly." Clyde gestured to Jowan, who seemed to startle before he approached holding a small case.

With a hand on his shoulder, Clyde guided Eldwin to sit in the covered chair. And by 'guided' it was more 'subtly forced.' He could have ordered Eldwin to do so and he would have obeyed, but either he just wanted a little power trip, or he thought Eldwin might cause trouble.

Tsk. Faithless.

"I'm sorry about this." Jowan put on some medical gloves, and picked up a small bottle Eldwin recognised as a disinfectant used to sterilise surgical tools. "I promise it will be taken off as soon as they leave."

"Wait, what? What will?"

Clyde's grip tightened. "Stay still. We'll tie you down if we have to."

With a clean cotton pad Jowan dabbed the disinfectant over Eldwin's lips, gently tilting his head up for better light. He tried to speak, but a firm "don't" shut him up. It's not like he wanted a mouth full of cotton anyway.

His questions were answered when Jowan next pulled out a sewing needle, and some thread.

"Hey, the fuck- at least answer me, why are you-" A harsh tug on his hair made his head jerk back with a wince.

"I said we needed control."

"I have plenty of gags," which was something he'd never thought he'd say, but hey, there's a first time for everything. "Not to mention I am fully capable of keeping my mouth shut, you don't n-"

"Really? That's news to me. Total control means harsher treatment. They need to see that you are not being treated as a person, but instead like the irredeemable traitor you are," Clyde said calmly, "You can misbehave. They already know you're not submissive enough. What matters most is how I treat you, and proving that you can't cause too many problems no matter how much you try. That even when you want to lash out, you can be controlled. Now, be still. Or I'll make it worse for you."

You're fucking insane. He closed his eyes, taking in a shuddering breath. He didn't know why he bothered to be surprised anymore. Nothing was off-limits to these people.

And really, all things considered, it wasn't that bad. He'd been through worse. Way worse. The quiet sting of the needle piercing his skin was barely worth mentioning. As was the strange pull of the thread being pulled through the tiny holes. More of an odd feeling than anything. It's not like he'd never had stitches before.

He could complain about being silenced, but that's what the gags were for anyway. What was so different about this?

When Jowan was satisfied, Eldwin was sent back to his room with orders to not touch his lips, do not try to open his mouth, keep disinfecting the area, and seek out Jowan if anything goes wrong.

The first thing he did was throw the blanket off the mirror to examine the work.

It was neatly done, he thought. Nice needle work. Not like he could expect anything less from Jowan, of all people. At least it was clean. As a one-off, it wouldn't scar. Probably.

Calloused fingers gently ran across the black threads. He wouldn't be eating for the next few days, then. Could probably use a small straw for water, at least. Maybe he'd have to mix the mud-paste they called nutritional into water just to get some sustenance. Eugh. Or as it was only a few days, they may not even bother, he'd gone longer without food.

That might honestly be preferable.

He draped the blanket back over the mirror. His stomach twisted in knots, and would for the next few days. He hated these social gatherings as is, especially when it could decide the rest of his life. He didn't know what else Clyde had in mind, but as long as it kept him safe, he didn't care. He liked what he had now, really; it was better than being cooped up in a lab and turned into a brainless husk. He vowed to behave himself, do whatever it took to prove that the Black Syndicate could be trusted with him.

But right now, all he could do was wait.

[honeygr-ls]

The Shadows And The Light - Chapter One

In the chaotic streets of Zaun, you run a small clinic, offering help to anyone who needs it. When Sevika, Silco's notorious right hand, shows up wounded, an unlikely bond forms between you. As she struggles with her violent life and feelings of unworthiness, you challenge her to see herself, and the people of Zaun, differently. Through shared danger and quiet moments, your connection begins to grow and flourishes into something beautiful

The clinic reeked of antiseptic and blood, the metallic tang hanging in the humid air of Zaun. You tightened the straps of your apron over your shoulders, wiping sweat that threatened to trickle down your brow. You were exhausted, tending to injuries and sickness throughout the whole day and night. Another gang fight, another line of broken and injured people stumbling through the door of the clinic.

The clinic had belonged to your late mother, left to you after her untimely and tragic death. You had taken her place as the clinic's head doctor, treating and taking care of Zaunites for around three years already.

You had just about finished cleaning up the last of the bloodied tables in the back when you heard a faint rattle at the front door of the building. Curiosity led you to the front door (not before grabbing a sharp scalpel for protection, of course), and you startled back when the rattling got even more frantic. Your eyes widened, and your heart leapt to your throat, but you steeled yourself and cracked the door open.

Your eyes widened at the sight of Silco's right hand, Sevika, towering over you as she clutched her side. Her face was pale and slick with sweat. You could notice her grey shirt was seeping with crimson blood. Her mechanical arm rested up against the door's frame, the faint whirring of its gears filling the silence.

“Well? You gonna let me bleed out here?” She barked out, her voice laced with a pained strain.

“Shit, right, come in.” You rushed out, widening the door and ushering her inside.

She stumbled in without so much as a thank you and swayed back and forth before she collapsed on your worn-out (and freshly washed) examination table with a low grunt.

You got to work, thoroughly cleansing your hands in alcohol to disinfect them, as well as grabbing your sterilised tools and bringing them over to the steel table next to where Sevika lay. Tension hung in the air as you started to survey her state and injury wound.

Sevika had always been larger than life - commanding, cold the kind of person who hardly ever asked for help. You've seen her around Zaun multiple times and often heard of her through whispers of your clients, But this is the first time she has ever come to your clinic, which caused confusion to swirl through your brain. You never got why she hadn't come before as you knew how much of a ruthless fighter she was, which was bound to end in injuries. Your help was free of charge aswell, the clinic running on donors and loans from a numerous amount of different people.

Snapping back to the task at hand, you pressed down gently around the wound (which you confirmed to have been caused By a bullet), surveying Sevika's reaction. She groaned and twitched on the table, spewing out a string of curses and glaring at you with fury in her eyes.

“Sorry,” you looked up at her with a guilty expression on your face. “I'll have to cut open your top so I can properly disinfect the wound and remove the bullet.” You said briskly to mask your unease.

Sevika puffed out a breath, glancing at you as a faint, pained smirk tugged at her lips.

“If you wanted to see me naked, you could’ve just asked.” She groaned out, shifting slightly on the table.

“I cannot believe you're joking right now.” You replied through clenched teeth, turning around to grab scissors to try and mask your blush. You took a deep breath and turned around, starting to cut her top open.

You inspected the wound more closely once her top was off.

“Mm…this is deep, how long has it been bleeding?” You asked as you slipped on a fresh pair of gloves.

She let out another pained huff and your eyes flitted up to her face, sweat beginning to drip down her brow.

“Couple hours. Got attacked on my way back from a meeting. Didn't think I'd need stitches.” She gritted out, squeezing her eyes shut.

You hummed and pressed a clean cloth to her wound, causing her to jolt and hiss in pain. “Clearly you were wrong.”

Sevikas glare burned into your skull, but you didn't falter. “Stay still.” You ordered, reaching over to your tray of tools and grabbing a syringe of anaesthetic. “This is going to hurt if you don't.”

“Probably hurts less than most of the shit that goes on down here.” She huffed but complied with your instructions anyway, leaning her head back with a soft thud against the cool steel of the table.

The words hung between you, an understanding surrounding the two of you as you cleaned up her wound more thoroughly.

“You keep up saying shit like that, and I'll start to think you're into poetry or something.” You murmured, breaking the tension between the both of you.

“Nah, poetry isn't really my style.” She chuckled weakly.

“Hm, you don't say?” You quipped, Beginning to thread the needle, getting everything ready for when you put her under with anaesthetic. You cast a glance her way and faltered when you seen her expression. You wondered to yourself how this was the Sevika that most of the undercity feared - A ruthless fighter proud and unyielding. Yet when you looked at her now, all you could see was a tired woman who was in pain.

“Why do you do this?” She asked, her voice just above a whisper.

Your hands faltered at her question. “Do what?”

“This.” She gestured vaguely around the room, “Helping people, you don't even bring in any profit from it. What's the point?”

“I don't care about profit. I care About helping the people of Zaun to the best of my abilities Because, for fuck sake, no one else will.” You gritted out, anger overcoming your senses as you pictured all the homeless, starved, broken down and abused Zaunites in your head. You had never thought about making A profit out of what You had done; it just wasn't in your nature. All you wanted to do was make even the slightest of differences for the people suffering down here due to Topside’s negligence.

Sevika stared at you, her grey eyes roaming over your frame. “That's naïve.”

You sighed. “Maybe…but I would rather try than cast a blind eye to it.”

You grabbed the anaesthetic needle and lined it up to her skin. Giving her no warning before pushing it in. After a few seconds, blackness swarmed her vision, and she slacked against the table, out like a light.

[finniestoncrane]

What's a kink of each of the riddlers that you feel like you haven't really talked about?

More Riddler Kinks

Riddler Headcanons hooray, finally getting round to this one after the event!! it's a long one too oops... ok i am got INTO this. some of them i think i've mentioned before but i am so glad to put my silly little thoughts into more detail 💚 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: so many potentially triggering kinks here, cnc, piss, free use, roleplay, rough sex, violence, monster fucking, nude photography

dano

i have written about it a LOT but he definitely has a thing for cnc/rape play

and with him, it comes from a space of feeling like he's not good enough, and follows his life's trajectory of having to take things he wants rather than wait patiently for them to come to him

he wants to be in control of a situation, something he's never had before in any aspect of life

something that allows him to feel like he's in charge, that he's got the power

and at the same time, it's so emotionally fulfilling for him to be trusted by someone to that extent

to know a partner is willing to allow themselves to be so vulnerable around him, to get to be so close and intimate with someone

to feel like he's someone you have actively chosen to trust and let him take part in something like that

and to speak to him like an intelligent adult while you cover rules and boundaries and safe-words

that's so healing for him to experience, and it only amplifies his sweet and adoring behaviour outside of your more intense bedroom sessions

plus, any excuse to offer you the most satisfactorily sickeningly sweet aftercare, that's what he's really after

arkham

i play with this man like he's a fucking doll honestly there's not a kink i wouldn't give him, but allow me to delve into my most recent fixation

because i'm giving him a piss kink and no one can stop me

i don't think it's so much about the piss for him, more about the mess and the sense of control over someone's behaviours and habits

definitely about the embarrassment and humiliation

because the minute you let yourself go, the minute you're vulnerable standing or sitting in front of him

bound by his rules to not interrupt him for bathroom breaks

knowing that any mess you make is your own fault

that's when he gets his kicks

and the ability to chastise and degrade you for making a mess of yourself and having very little self-control is an added benefit

telling you how ashamed you should be, while you can see the smug smile on his face and the growing tent at the front of his stupid cargo pants

i don't think he'd piss in you or on you though. as messy as he is i think even he knows standards of good practice when it comes to germs and such

(he's filthy, yes, but very picky over certain textures and substances, it's the autism)

plus the act of him defiling you would be too much, since this idiot harbours intense feelings of admiration and respect that he's too scared or embarrassed to admit to

gotham

i don't think i've gone into too much detail about his medical fetish, but he definitely has one

i mean, i did write that thing on the autopsy table... but anyway!

definitely veering towards the experimental side of medical roleplay

he'll get all of the correct gear on, nothing inherently sexual about it unless you're into that kind of thing

protective gear though, a smock, rubber gloves, maybe a mask

and you'll be expected to be fully nude, all of you exposed to him so that he can test the limits of each part of you

see how every square inch of your skin reacts to his touch

or to his various 'tools' that he's got, sterilised and prepared to work on you

there's no medical benefits to this, he's not aiming to fix you

but he is definitely good at making you feel much, much better than you did before you were laid down on his table

teased, torturous edging, new experiences and toys

until you're a shuddering mess, ready to be eased up for some aftercare before he cleans up for your next appointment

his desire to study you, to see what makes you tick and what makes you make the sweetest sounds is what motivates him here

and he will take rigorous and extensive notes during and afterwards

and then study them in his down time (or alone time)

telltale

corruption, for sure. like his whole personality revolves around being the best and greatest manipulator and schemer that ever was

so corrupting your innocence, real or roleplayed, gives him everything he wants from a sexual encounter

and in a relationship

it's not like he's 24/7 on with the whole "i am your master" thing

but it leeches into everyday life easily enough when you spend a lot of time in his company

any roleplay scenario where he can play an authoritative character while you are a weaker, more innocent position works for him

professor and student, master and servant, he's not beyond playing god and having you pretend to be a nun either, and there are more taboo pairings he's willing to try

there's often elements of bondage, dominance, spirit breaking, orgasm control

anything where he has the higher ground

and he can teach you and show you new and exciting, or scary, things

having you beg to show him the correct ways, to educate you, to give you a new experience, to touch you in a way no one else has

that's what gets him off for sure

twojar

100% is into breeding, and definitely barebacking

the idea of fucking you completely raw (pending your health checks. he's completely clean and fine, but you on the other hand... he needs the documents)

that's what he's most into, especially if he can incorporate some other kinks into the foreplay or actual sex

and then have the grand finale be painting your insides with his cum, letting you feel the warmth of him

but it has to end with you under him, whichever position you prefer the most he's not fussy

with his cock buried deep inside of you

cumming inside of you and holding himself there, keeping you pinned to him

thrusting a couple more times for good measure so he can be sure he's pumped his seed as deep as it can go

and holding you afterwards, telling you how good you took him

his perfect little breeding stock, his sweet little cumdump

filled up and ready to bear the fruits of his labour

btaa

there is no doubt in my mind that every waking minute that he isn't spending on schemes or building his little gadgets

is spent playing fantasy roleplay games, of any kind, on any platform, alone or in groups

he's a huge nerd! it's one of those things that he'll never outlive, once a big dweeb, always a big dweeb

so a big thing for him is roleplay, and specifically, roleplay where he can involve some monster fucking

he can either play the hero, slaying the beast and then saving the girl, who promptly rewards him with herself to use

or being the hero who sets out to defeat the creature and instead ends up fucking it

or let him be the monster and he'll show you how monstrous he could really be

as long as it involves preparation, dramatic reactions, practice and rehearsing, preferably a script with some room for improv

and, of course, the most extravagant and detailed costumes (accurate to the scenario or time period, obviously)

then he will be a very happy, and satisfied, boy

zero year

i haven't really talked about this but it's a huge one for me personally with him

but i think he's a big fan of free use obviously like he just screams it

loves nothing more than a sort of semi-permanent situation where you spend days completely naked and at his mercy

and add a bit of roleplay into it, maybe you're his live-in housekeeper

cleaning for him, cooking for him, washing him, feeding him

and whenever he feels like it, he can stick his dick in you

but you can't react to him unless he gives you permission

you gotta stand there, kneel there, sit there, lay there while he fucks you without making any sounds

and comitting to whatever task you were in the middle of when he decided to start going at you

i just think it would absolutely send him to the moon to know that when you're walking around naked, bending over in front of him

hanging on his every word and obeying his every command

he could also just decide to press his cock inside of you nonchalantly

unburied

he's literally devoutly into cuckoldery, but he's the bull

imagine watching your partner get railed by some ineffectual dweeb with a penchant for riddles

knowing that he's giving it to them with all he's got, making them scream in pleasure and shout out his name

making eye contact with him at some point

and having him wink at you? stick his tongue out? give you some finger guns?

all with the most smug, self-satisfied grin you've ever seen on a human being

and then to top it off, he's calling out sex-themed riddles?

and laughing at you when you don't get them right?

that's not something you can come back from

that changes someone, on several deep levels

and truthfully, that's the part that he likes the most

the emotional scarring on your ego, and the little stroke his gets

knowing he's so annoying that he's unforgettable, which would be the biggest crime to him

btas

i have these ideas about him that always revolve around something artsy or classy

and while i think he would be into some dorky roleplay (he's definitely pretending to be a minotaur, sorry)

i do, selfishly i suppose, think that he would be into body worshipping

specifically in the form of erotic photography

he'd be keen to take pictures of you, in poses, costumes, scenarios, roleplays

directing you, encouraging you, watching you loosen up and let yourself go

whatever you were comfortable with, that's key here

and he'd cherish seeing your face afterwards when he showed you the final products

knowing he'd captured everything about you that he loves and finds attractive

pictures that he'll keep if you want, or destroy

it doesn't matter to him in the end really

he takes them because he thinks of you as his muse, the act of photographing you, of being allowed the vulnerability

to create with you in mind

that's what he finds most erotic and exciting and ultimately, an expression of his love and adoration for you

young justice

if you managed to get him to find the courage to admit to it, you'd learn his favourite thing is uh...

well... just because it plays into his... awkwardness, and shyness, and inexperience...

just... it makes sense that he has a virginity kink

but interestingly, it goes both ways

while he's so keen to have you show him the moves, and pretend to be inducting him into your little black book

teaching him how to touch you or how to move his hips

he's equally interested in switching the roles up a bit

it's a challenge for him, sure, but he's the riddler! there's no challenge he can't live up to

even if that means weeks of practice and lessons with an acting coach to get past the initial nerves

it would all be worth it to pretend that he was confident, dominant, and knew what he was doing

that and the satisfaction of taking something from you, something important

the honour in knowing he's your first (or at least pretending)

and the lasting impression he might have on you for that

that's the kind of idea that has him rutting into you like a fuckin beast

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Vega and Altair's twins

This is a story I've written for a follower on here who is doing an art for story exchange, and wanted to remain anonymous. It's a story of the birth of the twins from their own characters, Vega (female) and Altair (male) - bit of a heads up, they had a previous miscarriage earlier before they successfully managed to bring this pregnancy to term, so it is mentioned in the story. Timezone is set before any modern conveniences. Hope you enjoy...

Vega groaned, a deep, sorrowful keening sound coming from her mouth as she felt the latest in a long series of contractions finally release her from it’s grip. She had been feeling them since this morning, and all through the day until finally at the arrival of dusk, she sent Altair out to do something useful rather than fussing over her.

Both of them knew that the process of getting the babies out of her will take a long time, especially with her first. Both of them had seen enough babies born between them to know it was quite often never a quick process. Both of them knew how everything was meant to happen – but when it was happening to you or your loved ones, that threw everything out of context.

As dusk settled in, and the day started to become cold, she sent out her husband to gather firewood to both heat the house, and boil water to sterilise their tools. Altair grumbled and protested, but of course, he knew that Vega had made the logical choice, and whilst he didn’t want to leave her side in this, her greatest time of need, he knew fine well that she was in the best place she could be right now, and – he admitted – the firewood stocks were getting very thin on the ground.

Vega wrapped a shawl around her as she hefted herself up off the rocking chair she had been seated in. Still very wary about removing her clothes, she had used the excuse that she would need to keep warm until the very end of her labour to conserve her energy and not waste it shivering needlessly. Her bump was massive, protruding several inches in front of her frame – along with her breasts which had grown beyond their already substantial size during the pregnancy, both ripe and ready to feed the children she currently carried.

“Two babies…” she muttered. She had seen it happen only once, and she remembered the horrible, wailing sounds the mother made as she had to go through the ordeal twice in quick succession. What she remembered well though was the pure elation that the mother had felt after all was done, and both babies were in her arms.

She padded over to the door stepped through, then stood, resting her weight against the railing outside watching Altair put logs out onto the cutting area, swing down with his axe and split the logs into shards ready for putting onto the fire. She kept silent, observing her husband as his muscles rippled as they heaved back and forth splintering logs one after another. It was only the onset of the next contraction that broke her reverie as she gripped the railing hard and let out a loud gasp.

Altair immediately dropped what he was doing and dashed over to his wife. His hands wrapped around her from behind – quite the task considering the girth of her midsection – but he had practiced a grab which gathered under her belly and in turn, gave a small lift, relieving the pressure on her abdomen.

“You should be inside, you were complaining about lack of heat earlier.” Altair scolded.

“I couldn’t just sit there and let these happen, I need to move. And I was curious how you were getting on.” Vega retorted, a smirk on her lips, lost to Altair who was behind her. “Seems that the babies wanted to say hello as well.”

Altair let go with one hand and pushed aside Vega’s long, white hair and pressed his lips against the back of her neck – an act which sent shivers down her spine, something not lost on the large man who in this setting all but dwarfed his wife.

“How are you doing my love?” whispered Altair, his breath warm against the prickling back of Vegas neck.

“You know… feeling like I’m being pushed inside out… and right now my legs want to buckle… but that’s nothing to do with our little bundles of joy.” Altair repeated his kiss, an errant breathy groan escaping Vegas lips.

“I want to rest in water. I’ve seen how good it helps with aches and pains.” Vega announced matter of factly. “And I want it warm… so that means more wood.”

“Your wish is my command my dear. Let me bring this load in and we can set the pot to boil to warm the first bath load, by the time I’ve chopped the next we should be able to get a good cycle for as long as this ordeal takes.”

“My hero…” Vega muttered as she was cut short by the cramping sensation taking her breath away, all she could do was moan through the pain until it passed. Altair stayed glued to her until she eventually regained her composure and shooed him away, complaining that if he kept on waiting every time she had a cramp, the babies would be here before the water was even warm.

Altair was reluctant to leave, but knew he must. He walked out and grabbed the first handful of wood to take it to the hearth and set it on fire, whilst he filled the large cooking pot with water and set it away. He made 3 more trips back and forth to gather the rest of the logs that were split and put them into storage for later, whilst finally making another trip to carry the bath into the main room of the house and fill it half way with cold water to be heated by the boiling water later.

During this time, Vega made a conscious effort to not make any noise, though her contractions were unrelenting. She had almost succeeded by doing her breathing exercises (in through her nose nice and deep, slowly blow out of her mouth) and keeping her eyes scrunched tight closed, but she couldn’t help but moan through the peak of the pain. Altair kept on giving worried glances over at her as he passed her on his way back and forwards in and out of the house – she never moved from her position, just swayed her hips back and forward, rocking side to side, taking small steps raising and lowering one foot then the other in some sort of meditative mantra.

Finally, Altair said the water was boiled and started to fill the tub with the remaining scalding hot liquid. He tested it time and time again, adding a little more each time until he decided the water was finally warm enough – he knew that hot water would make Vega sleepy and may hinder the progress of the labour, but water too cool would not provide the relief she desperately wanted.

He walked out and took her by the hand, leading her to the tub. As she was about to step in, he pulled her back.

“Its traditional to be naked during a bath…”

“But I do not like my body. My stomach is all red and scoured by stretchmarks, and my breasts are veiny. I can labour in the clothing I have on and pull off my underwear when it is time.”

“Nonsense… you are beautiful. Your stretchmarks are testament to the work your body has done to grow our 2 babies, and your breasts – as magnificent as they are – are like that to do what nature intended them to do and feed our children. You are beautiful, and I want you to be comfortable. All you will do if you get into that tub whilst wearing clothes would be to end up having them stick to you and be uncomfortable… and you need to have comfort, now of all times… we both know there will be scant time for comfort when the time comes to push.”

Vega smiled, her heart warmed by the words of her partner. She knew he was right of course, but it went against all her inner thoughts to do so. She stepped back away from the tub and started slowly, removing her shawl, to the encouragement of Altair. Next was the dress, and then finally her underwear wrappings across her breasts and her crotch. Finally she was stood in the middle of the room naked, and on full display to Altair.

“Good girl, you know this is for the best.” He added encouragingly.

“I know, I know… but this…” she rubbed across the expanse of her belly “is both beautiful and grotesque. You shouldn’t need to stare at it.”

“Nonsense you silly moo!” he bellowed, somewhat louder than he intended, nerves for the upcoming labour overriding his own sense of decorum – he wanted his wife to be as comfortable as possible, and her old hangups about her body were not something that would help this situation. “You are the most gorgeous creature I have ever seen.”

“You’re right of course… it still doesn’t feel right…. But I yield to your superior knowledge. Now help me into this tub, I don’t think I can balance with this load in front of me!”

That brought a chuckle to Altair’s lips, lightening the mood as he held Vega as she stepped one leg then the other into the warm water. She got down onto her knees, then finally sat down and swung her legs out from underneath her until she was submerged in the large tub up to her breasts, her belly under the water.

Having such a large tub was a pain to move around the home when they needed it for routine wash nights, but it was always made to double up as a birthing tub, and it being large enough to move around in without being restrictive – and for Vega to open her legs wide in – was part of the intended design.

The sigh as she sank into the water, the warmth soothing the aches and pains in her back was almost musical to Altair. He stared at her as she sat there.

“What?” Vega asked.

“Nothing, I’m just amazed by you. Let me get the next load of water on to heat in case we need it.”

Over the course of the next 20 minutes or so, Altair fussed around the room fetching buckets of water and stacking them up 5 deep in case they needed them and he couldn’t get away, cycling them over the fire so no specific one got too hot or cold. Vega allowed herself to relax, breathing deeply and groaning through the contractions as they happened, focusing inward to try and combat the pain she felt radiating through her time after time.

Suddenly there was a sigh from Altair as she sat and stared into the simmering water in the cooking pot.

Vega opened her eyes and looked over to him. “What is wrong, love?” though she had her own ordeal to undertake, the sigh caught her off guard enough to want to see what was up.

“I just keep on thinking about our previous baby…” referencing an earlier miscarriage the couple had suffered in Vega’s early pregnancy. He was cut off as Vega groaned, the next contraction catching her off guard herself as she was too focused on Altair to prepare herself. He jumped into action and grabbed her hands over the edge of the tub and gave her somewhere to grab. She sequeezed as hard as she could, yelling out as it hit it’s peak, the pain leaving her gasping for breath as she panted through it.

“That was tough…” she whined as she recovered from the worst of the contraction.

“Sorry my darling, I made you lose concentration.”

“No… you had a legitimate worry. I think about the earlier baby too. At first I liked to think he or she was looking over us, a guardian angel of sorts. But now, as I feel these babies move around inside of me, I like to think he or she has been reborn with their brother or sister, and we still get to meet that elusive child… though I may have to have words with it very soon after it pops out, as it has been giving me some serious heartburn and kicking me in some very inopportune times.”

The light hearted comment helped soothe Altair’s worries, and he was left smiling. He stood up and kissed Vega as she leaned her head back against the side of the tub for support, allowing Altair’s kiss to press deep into her, their tongues intertwining, the passion for each other not lost over the years.

Suddenly Vega’s hand grabbed the back of Altair’s head and pulled at his ponytail. She yelled out as a new sensation hit her. “Baby… my body, it needs to push! The first babe, it’s coming!”

“Go with it!” Altair commanded. “You have seen this happen before, know what must be done. I love you, lets bring forth our babies!”

Vega grabbed the underside of her knees and pulled them back as she roared, eyes clamped tight shut as she put effort into the push. It released and she went again, strain showing on her face as she put in the effort. Altair moved into position behind her in the tub as he pulled out a washcloth and dunked it into the tub next to his wife and rung it out, dabbing it over her forehead as she strained.

The contraction let up enough to allow Vega to regain her focus. “This is both so much different to how I imagined it, and at the same time, exactly how I expected it to feel…” she panted with effort before the next contraction begun. Altair shrugged, not fully understanding what Vega was saying, but he knew his job was to just offer encouragement no matter what Vega was feeling right now.

“You can do it my darling. That was such a good effort.”

“Pfft…” Vega made a derogatory noise. “The effort hasn't even started yet… save that for later, when the babe crowns. But here we go….” She once again pulled her legs back and pushed. A good 30 seconds passed, with 3 good pushes involved, gasping breaths between.

Altair gave what little platitude he could to the proceedings with calls out of “good, go again, baby” and “that's it keep it up” at opportune times. He placed his hands into the water and found the tub to be getting cold – noticing Vega shivering a little between contractions.

“I will be back in a second baby” as he stepped to grab an empty bucket and pull out a load of chilled water from the tub. Vega’s eyes followed him around the room as he walked forward, grabbed the bucket, sunk it into the tub and threw its contents unceremoniously out of the door into the world outside. He grabbed a full bucket and slowly emptied it into an area where the hot water wouldn't scold his wife, who yelped and let out a “quick, quick!” command as she once more pulled back her legs and got back to pushing.

Vega felt a little out of sorts without her Altair close to her as she continued to push, but there was no other option as far as her body was concerned – her ability to stop pushing was as unlikely as trying to hold back the waves at the ocean. Her movements caused the newly added hot water to swirl around the tub though and that helped give her something else to focus on other than the gripping pain around her midsection and the feeling of unrelenting fullness between her legs.

Altair looked up from his task of dropping the water into the tub and noticed something between Vega’s legs as she pulled them back.

“I see something!” he sounded excited. The commotion caused Vega to gasp and release her legs as she kept her eyes closed still pushing, one of her hands probing to the folds between her legs. There… probing at it with her fingers, was her bag of waters starting to poke out.

Vega was gasping as she managed a few words between contractions. “The waters… they haven’t broken yet. It’s bulging out of me.”

“Do I break it?” Altair enquired.

“No!” Vega was quick to admonish him. “Let it happen naturally.”

As she let off the pressure of the push as the contraction force ebbed away, the bag slipped back inside, and once more all she could feel was her skin to her fingers, the sensitive lips and nub between her legs which Altair had, on so many occasions, played with and sent sensations through her spine right to her brain. She wondered…

As the next contraction started, she only pulled back a single leg. The second hand rested on her clit and she rubbed slowly. Altair’s eyes opened wide at the view in front of him.

“You… you’re?” he was flabbergasted. “You’re playing?”

“Shhhh…” came Vega’s response. “I want to try this, see if it takes the edge off.”

Vega didn’t speak further, two of her fingers rubbed back and forth as her face scrunched up and she pushed. The effort was there, the bulge appeared back between her lips, the bag bulging out until finally she yelled. Simultaneously, the bag popped underwater, the thin membrane floating away into the body of the tub. Vega flinched as it happened, but she had no time to rest, the contraction was still upon her. She rubbed and rubbed at the sensitive area between her legs, her head lolling back as she groaned mid-contraction. She gasped “It’s working” as she finally felt the contraction release, a gasp escaping her lips.

Altair was transfixed at the display in front of him. Eyes hyper focused on the fingers doing the work. “Your… erm… your bag broke” he managed.

“I felt it… it brushed against my hand as it floated away” Vega managed, still panting with her exertion. She stopped her rubbing activities as the contraction ebbed away. “Surely the head must be close… let me see if I can feel it.”

She inserted her finger within her folds and smiled. “It’s there I can feel the head of our first baby. I can feel the progress my body is making!” she sounded elated, but it was short lived. The next contraction ramped up quickly, and she resumed her rubbing activity. Her moan started almost instantaneously this time though, and soon escalated to a yelling shout. She couldn't enunciate her words given the situation, but as the contraction started to fade she managed a weak “no bag of waters… it hurts so much more… direct skin on skin contact, rubbing… stretch…”

Altair saw the frustration in her face and scrambled around to be beside her where he laid his hands on her arm. “What can I do…” he was frustrated himself, he was so used to being actively involved, and felt useless at this point.

“Get me a drink love, my throat is dry…” groaned Vega, her voice suddenly sounding very horse and scratchy. Altair pushed himself up off the ground and headed off to get a cool skin of water. As he was away in the kitchen he heard Vega’s yowling pain echo through the family home.

He rushed back in to a scene of Vega having let the second leg go, so they were both thrashing in the water, her fingers rubbing against her clit as much as possible, her second hand thumping on the side of the bath in whatever effort she can do to stave off the pain she was feeling. Altair grabbed the hand and held it tight, feeling Vega respond, squeezing as tightly as she possibly could. He looked down between her legs and his face lit up – he could see something emerging from between them.

He leaned over and took his second hand, grabbing the one that was rubbing her clit, and moved the fingers a few inches south, to feel the skin between her lips. Vega’s eyes shot open, and Altair nodded. “It’s working!” he bellowed. The break in concentration caused Vega to stop pushing and the head shrunk back behind the lips once again, causing Vega to wail “No… Don’t go!”

Releasing the hands he held, Altair instead placed his hands on her face, and kissed her. “You, my darling, are pushing out a baby. You know it will slip, and come, and slip again. You know this in your heart. Don’t get discouraged and work with your body. You know what to do.”

Vega nodded and asked for a drink, which Altair offered her, slowly lifting the skin to her lips as she drank deeply. It was soon time to push again though, so she pulled up her legs with both hands and went back to it. Altair stashed away the skin for future access and situated himself behind Vega, his hands rubbing her shoulders as she tensed up with the push. He lifted himself up on his haunches to see if he could see anything between Vega’s legs as she pushed, but her belly was in the way, and Altair couldn’t get a good enough angle to see anything. He cursed under his breath that he didn't think to have a mirror or something set up in the bath – something he would look to bring a metalworker into the home in time once the babies were born for the next time.

Over the course of the next 15 to 20 minutes, the couple didn't move from their location. Time after time Vega went from wailing in pain, to gasping for breath, back to wailing in pain and so on as she worked seemingly without end to push the head of her first babe out from within her. Altair was frustrated not being able to do anything, just hold onto her and give her platitudes as between pushes, Vega reached down between her legs and felt the progress of her work, at first the head disappeared each time as she let off the push, but slowly and surely the head remained peeking out at the end of each push, each time the stretch feeling greater and greater for her until finally she yelled out a shrieking, horrible scream.

“It burns, it burns, crowning baby, crowning… ooooh” Her wail didn’t end until finally about 30 seconds later she grabbed the sides of the tub, releasing her legs, and almost lifted herself up out of the water, her legs scrabbling backwards trying to find purchase on the slippery base. She jumped and yowled as she finally managed a weak “the head is out… get around and check for a cord.”

Altair didn’t wait, jumping up and dashing around the edge of the tub to see the head of his child poking out between his wife’s legs. The water was tinged with blood, he couldn't tell at this point if it was just coming from within Vega’s womb or if she had torn in the process, but he put that to the back of his mind as he reached in and felt around the neck for a cord. He was happy that there was no risk to the baby, so breathed a sigh to refocus his thoughts and took in the scene.

“How is it…” Vega sounded weak and exhausted.

“It’s beautiful… our baby.” Altair managed. He then realised the thing that was playing on his mind. The head was face up. Normally babies were born face down so their spines could bend with the movements through the birth canal, but if they were in posterior position, or back to the mothers back so they came out face up, that meant it was a much tougher process. Now Vega’s wails were explained.

Suddenly Vega gasped “Hold the head” as she pulled back her legs again and pushed hard, the contraction forcing her to comply, accompanied by a howling yell all through the push. Altair held the head as he first saw the first shoulder, then the second slip out from between Vegas legs, he gently pulled as the torso followed, and the legs. Vega gasped as she felt the weight pass through and out from her, finally releasing a triumphant yell of success as Altair fished the first child out of the bath water, holding it up as high as he could, still attached by the umbilical cord.

“We have a baby girl my love… our daughter. You did it. I’m so proud.” Altair was babbling with joy as he handed the baby over to Vega to hold against her chest, who in turn was crying tears of joy at the completion of the first of her two labours. The babe was making loud and screeching yells until she finally found Vega’s breast and almost without hesitation, latched on for her first feed.

Life was calm and quiet, at least for a few minutes. Altair didn’t make much noise, just simply stand and observe the currently 2 most important people in his life. Vega made cooing noises at the baby, who was more than content to suckle, having undergone her own tortorous journey a short while earlier.

Vega’s wincing face signified the calm had passed and the contractions starting up once more. “Is there anything you need my love?” Altair enquired, very conscious that the baby added an extra dynamic to how she had pushed before.

“No… I don’t feel the need to push with this… let me just…” she groaned, unable to finish her sentence. Altair knelt next to her in the tub, one hand stroking the head of his daughter as the other hand rested atop Vegas on the side of the tub. He looked over to her and noticed the water with its pinkish hue, and the vibrations of Vega’s body signifying her shivering. He dipped his hand into the tub and realised that over the time the water had become chilled.

“I can’t keep you in here, the water is filthy, there’s blood and viscera in here, as well as other waste… I think you should get out.”

Vega nodded. “I think I'll need a hand… my legs are a bit wobbly no doubt.”

Altair knelt to the side of the tub as Vega wrapped her free arm that wasn’t holding the baby around his shoulders. Altair supported Vegas weight under her arms as they stood up together, the blood pink water running down her body as she stood. She took a tentative step out of the tub, and with Altair’s help, finally managed to get both feet onto the ground and stand in front of the fire, using the heat to dry herself off.

The baby didn’t let this movement and jostling distract her, as she continued to feed. The sensation of feeding causing Vega’s contractions to ramp up, and her second breast to leak, something which went unnoticed as the water sloshed up and down over her belly when she was in the tub, but the milky white droplets dripping onto her belly and rolling down the rounded surface was mesmerising to both Vega and Altair now she was out of the water. The grunt of a contraction pulled them both into the moment though as Vega managed to say “I’m pushing…” as she stood bow legged in front of the fire, one hand gipping tight to her newborn and the other reaching out for Altair to grab.

Vega focused on a long, hard push, gravity aiding her in her standing position. Grunting through the length of the contraction she suddenly gasped. “What was that?”

Altair looked down and realised the baby was breech. “That… that was a leg.”

Vega gasped, a look of panic on her face. She had of course seen this before, and she knew that giving birth to twins most likely meant one was upright and one was upside down in the womb, just for the babies to take up the optimal space… but when faced with it happening to you, when you’re already overwrought from the earlier parts of the day… she wasn’t fully aware of it all.

Altair jumped in. “Focus, baby… focus. Nothing new. Just need to push out the body then the head rather than the other way around. Nothing you haven’t done before.” Vega could only nod, the next contraction upon her, her thighs dipping to open up into a squat, her groaning push resulting in the flop of the second leg out from between her own.

Altair realised that Vega was shivering, either a side effect of adrenaline, or simply just because she was cold from the water not having fully dried off her body, so he took the opportunity in between contractions to have her rest against a chair as he dashed to grab something from the bedroom.

Vega watched wide eyed as Altair left, the contraction forcing her to keep on pushing, the next baby’s hips now dangling between her legs. It was moving, slowly but surely, her already raw lips spread around the girth of the body. She whimpered as she pushed, not feeling the need to yell or tire her throat just yet, but very wary of the pain building as she pushed more and more towards the width of the head.

Altair dashed back into the room at full sprint, carrying a fur with him to drape over Vega’s shoulders. She kissed and thanked him as he took back over holding her weight, Altair’s arms wrapping around her torso, in the space between her breasts and her belly. She rested the baby on her thigh as she lowered down into a deep squat, her weight supported by Altair, the widening of her pelvis as she lowered down almost heavenly compared to the tight space she could manage by keeping her balance by herself. With an almighty push, the body was born to the shoulders, the deep squat meaning the legs and body rested against the floor.

“Stay low my baby, push hard… keep that deep squat so our child doesn’t have far to fall when it’s born.” Altair instructed. Vega couldn’t respond verbally, but nodded, her focus remaining entirely on pushing, now the contractions were on top of each other.

Altair started to fret, this breech baby enough of a concern to set his nerves alight and as he held his wife closely whilst she struggled through her ordeal, his eyes darted around the room to see if there was something, anything, he could use to aid in this situation. He suddenly saw the large dressing mirror over the far side of the room. Gently rotating Vega’s body so her legs would follow suit, he moved her the quarter circle he would need to get a view over her shoulder of the reflection in the mirror. At this point Vega had not opened her eyes for over a minute and was pushing with all her might.

Altair saw the red, stretched lips of her vagina stretching out over the slowly emerging head, the baby dangling between her own legs like some sort of parody of a puppet that had it strings cut – just hanging there completely unable to move. But then he realised that it was moving. The legs kicked and the arms wiggled left to right. The baby was fighting to get out as much as it’s mother was forcing it out… but the lack of any where for it to get its limbs to touch were entirely to its detriment.

“Vega, darling, look forward.” Altair said. The calmness of his words cut through Vega’s concentration and she looked forward. That’s when she saw it too. Her second baby. The first still on her thigh, the second dangling there. The head reaching a wide point, and whilst she could only see the back of it, she felt the nose right there tugging against her inner walls. She knew she could do it, she could see the head coming out, and she pushed.

She yelled out, eyes no longer closed watching the show in the mirror. Her squat deepened, her hips widened, and as her voice cracked, her battle-worn throat no longer able to make any more noise the head slipped out.

The noise could be described as a splat. The baby slipping out from between her legs, a splash of amniotic fluid following it down and puddling around the shape on the floor. The room was eerily silent after all the commotion in the moments preceding it. Not the first baby or the second made a noise. Altair gently lowered Vega down to sit as he dashed around in front of her to see to the second baby.

Gathering towels he rubbed the baby vigorously, trying to stimulate it. “Breathe, breathe!” he gasped, panic now starting to set in at the baby’s silence. As if the two children were intrinsically linked the little girl’s eyes stared wide at her sibling, no noise came from her. Then suddenly it came. A watery weak cough, then a second go, much stronger than the first, and the second baby’s wails echoed around the house.

The first baby joined the chorus, and along with Altair’s and Vega’s tear-streaked faces, relief swept over the room. Altair looked down at the bundle held in his arms, still connected to it’s mother by the umbilical cord, and saw between its legs.

“We have a son!” he exclaimed. Bringing him close to Vega, handing him over and then finding something to tie and cut the cord. Finally, the baby was released from it’s connection in the womb, and the four sat in a huddle in the room, simply existing in the moment and not considering anything else.

Finally it was time for Vega to bring forth the placenta, and after a short while, Altair rubbing Vega’s deflated belly as she pushed with the contractions, two separate meaty lumps were caught in a bowl for examination. She laid the babies down and along with Altair, they checked both over and were happy everything suggested everything had happened exactly as it should.

“The two placentas would suggest that they are not identical.” Altair commented.

“I can see that dear… one has a penis, another has a vagina.” Vega chuckled at the obviousness of the situation that Altair had not realised as she kissed and hugged her husband. She certainly needed sleep, and she just hoped her two new additions would give her that small mercy after the night she had bringing them forth to the world.

[neodymiumcuilz]

PAY ATTENTION TO UYGHUR PEOPLE - URGENT ATTENTION

HELLO EVERYONE!! We must raise our voices for the Uyghur people aswell, as they are going through atrocities aswell, and we must not forget about their suffering. The world is silent, unaware and uneducated on the Uyghur struggle. Which I why I am calling for everyone who sees this to read this article where you can be educated on what's happening.

Website exerpts:

" Several countries, including the US, UK, Canada and the Netherlands, have accused China of committing genocide - defined by international convention as the "intent to destroy, in whole or in part, a national, ethnical, racial or religious group".

The declarations follow reports that, as well as interning Uyghurs in camps, China has been forcibly mass sterilising Uyghur women to suppress the population, separating children from their families, and attempting to break the cultural traditions of the group.

The US Secretary of State, Antony Blinken, has said China is committing "genocide and crimes against humanity". "

" Analysis of data contained in the latest police documents, called the Xinjiang Police Files, showed that almost 23,000 residents - or more than 12% of the adult population of one county - were in a camp or prison in the years 2017 and 2018. If applied to Xinjiang as a whole, the figures would mean the detention of more than 1.2 million Uyghur and other Turkic minority adults.

China says the crackdown in Xinjiang is necessary to prevent terrorism and root out Islamist extremism and the camps are an effective tool for re-educating inmates in its fight against terrorism.

It insists that Uyghur militants are waging a violent campaign for an independent state by plotting bombings, sabotage and civic unrest, but it is accused of exaggerating the threat in order to justify repression of the Uyghurs. "

All this... and yet you still choose to buy from seeing and other companies that profit from their labour..

Link to website here. PLEASE READ IN FULL.

ALSO!! Sign this petition. It takes two seconds.

Your voice means so much more than you could ever imagine. In times like these, you NEED to speak up for the oppressed, everyone.

If you noticed anything is incorrect/out of context, or if you want me to share and more links/info please message me

[sokkagatekeeper]

Hey uh this might be a weird question (and cw for eugenics and racism mentions, feel free to discard this ask if you don't want to engage with those topics) but i saw an old post of yours abt the antrophologist guy who measured aangs skull. And like. That was always so INCREDIBLY jarring to me. I'm swedish and here those things are p exclusively known as a symbol of eugenics (specifically the "racial hygiene" aspect of eugenics, including things like forced sterilisation of indigenous people) Like, in school history books, the eugenics section is p much always illustrated w pictures of sami (indigenous) pp being forced to have their skulls measured. And idk if those devices are less known in america? If they have different associations? Or at least not the same symbolic value/immediate eugenics association? Because i WANT to believe that they didn't actually intentionally throw in an eugenics symbol like that. Especially for a character that's supposed to be somewhat sympathetic. Avatar might handle some heavy topics but this was just thrown in there so flippantly, I was legitimately shocked the first time i saw it. Idk it's just insane that i've never seen anyone talk about it, so surely that association might not be as prevalent in other countries or something?? Right???? Or how have people just brushed over this???? What the fuck actually

oh i mean i've definitely seen discussion of this in the fandom before, if mostly somewhat flippant references to how bad that was. yes, phrenology has been used as a tool of racist oppression in far more places than just sweden. it's possible that it's less known in other places, but i'm american and was able to recognize it. my inclination is to believe that the scene with professor zei measuring aang's skull was written thoughtlessly, by someone who had seen references to skull-measuring at some point but didn't actually know what it implied. it's possible that they were trying to subtly imply something about zei (maybe that he cares more about knowledge for knowledge's sake than about how that knowledge is applied and who it harms). that would also go along with the fact that he refers to aang as a "living relic"—a truly insanely offensive thing to say to him—and really does seem to think of him as an object of study rather than a person. he then, of course, ends up being buried in the library, because of the very fact that he values "knowledge" in the abstract without caring about being able to accomplish anything material with it. but again, this may be too generous of a reading; even if this is what the writers were going for, i still think it's pretty distasteful to show a skull-measuring scene completely out-of-the-blue like that in a children's show without properly addressing it. like you said, atla handles heavy topics, but this really only works if the audience recognizes the device for what it is and what real-world history it has, which many of the children for whom the show is intended would not.

[ameliathornromance]

Cage Fighter! Orc x Reader - Prolouge

A/N: Here it is! I've decided to kind of start the story backwards, from the very beginning of all of this 'going on the run' stuff. If there's any feedback you want to give on how you'd like to see the story go, please comment and I'll consider it when writing the next part. Enjoy the prolouge!

TWs: Orc loses a tooth, mention of drugs and an illegal cage fighting ring and violence.

The room you’d been given as a nurses office was grimy. The walls were spattered with black mould, the examiners table in the corner of the room had chunks of it’s mattress missing, exposing the yellowing sponge, which otherwise would have been clad in the same black faux plastic lining that was held together with duct tape.

You had done your best to sterilise the tools you’d been given, soaking them in alcohol, spraying them with other cleaning supplies and – for good measure – bleach.

Given how dirty the office was you’d been given, you doubted that your efforts to sustain a clean environment would do much. But something, was better than nothing.

Outside of your office, the muffled cheers of the ongoing cage match went on, accompanied with the occasional crack of bones breaking or hard slap of skin on skin as the two fighters collided in battle.

Sometimes, you wanted to cover your ears, sink into your imagination, pretend you were back in your residency, where everything was fine and well… Well, as ‘fine and well’ as it could be. You would try to imagine the clean and sterile office you shared with your fellow students, and their white coats, clean of any kind of bodily fluid, showing off their naïvety to the field of medicine.

But the harsh reality of your situation always came back to you, when the door leading out to the cage would be thumped on and in would stumble this evenings fighter.

Tonight, you were in charge of taking care of the Event organisers favourite toy: Big Money.

From what you knew – being given a file of medical information about the Orc – he was 6’3, was over 201 pounds of muscle and could throw what the Event Organisers so lovingly and excitedly called, ‘the Death Punch.’

That was detailed in the notes of the file. The rest of the medical information was pretty standard, he was aged 28, didn’t smoke, but drank quite heavily, wasn’t sexually active and had no known allergies or conditions.

And, as if hearing your thoughts, a hard thump came from the other side of your door.

You opened it and stepped aside to allow the Orc to enter. Unlike most other combatants, he came in steadily, as if he’d never been in a fight in the first place.

Without so much as a greeting, he sat on the table and looked at you expectantly. Grabbing your tools, you got to work.

There was no point in trying to talk to him. Ninety percent of the time, these fighters were too out of their minds on adrenaline or some kind of other substance to hold a proper conversation and could only answer your basic medical questions.

First, you examined his face.

While beat up, and slowly turning black and blue in certain places, there didn’t seem to be anything too damaged. The tell tale signs of broken bones were absent, as well as anything that would signal lasting damage.

“Can you tell me how many fingers I’m holding up?” You asked him. Holding up three fingers, the Orc grunted. “Three fingers.”

“Can you repeat back to me this sentence? ‘The lazy brown fox jumps over the moon.’”

“The lazy brown fox jumps over the moon.” He repeated back to you. “What was that for?”

“Making sure you still have brain function. Usually, if you’ve been knocked silly, you’d be struggling.” You replied. “One last test: can you spell the word ‘thorough’ backwards?

“’Thorough’?” He repeated. Pursing his lips, he frowned. “h, g, u, o…” He tutted, annoyed at the hard word you’d given him. “R o, h t?”

“Good. What about anywhere else? Anything hurt particularly bad?”

Big Money flexed his arms, then his hands, bandaged to avoid getting any permanent form of injury. You couldn’t ignore the dark red blotches on his knuckles as he flexed his fingers.

Was that his blood or his opponents? It wouldn’t have mattered if it was his, the organisers would still want him back out there.

“No, nothing.” He replied, resting his arms beside his body. “My jaw feels a little numb, but other than that, everything’s fine. Could I get some water? My mouth tastes funny.”

“’Funny’?” You raised an eyebrow. Heading to a door opposite the one to the ring, you poked your head out and called to the doorman, “hey! I need water in here! Something’s wrong.”

The doorman, whose feet has been rested up on his table, counting bills of bloodthirsty viewers, bolted upright, “on it.” And with that, he darted off down the hall.

Pulling your head back in, you gestured for the Orc to open his mouth. “Can you describe ‘funny’ to me?”

Big Money opened his mouth to answer, but it turned out that his body had other plans. Blood spilled from his lips and down his front. He gasped and clutched his hand over his mouth, “shit, sorry, I couldn’t taste anything, I thought-”

But you were already mopping up the blood from his chin and chest. “Don’t worry about it, I’ve had druggies try and bite me before, this is luxury compared to that.” You said.

Once the blood had been cleared, holding the towel under his chin, you looked inside his mouth. While you had studied the mouth and teeth while in medical school, it was not nearly in depth enough for you to be considered any good at diagnosing mouth related issues.

But this was a glaringly simple diagnosis.

“You’ve lost a molar on the left of your jaw.” You observed. The door behind you opened and the doorman stepped inside, holding a bottle of water.

You took it and handed it to the Orc, pulling a bucket out from under the examining table. “Spit into this until the blood stops getting distracting.” It’s not like you could do anything to help him now, the organisers would want him back out there ASAP for his next fight.

For now, all you could do was prolong his time out there before he would need proper medical intervention.

As Big Money did as you asked, you glanced over your shoulder, and found the doorman was still there. He has his arms crossed, and a smirk plastered on his face.

“He’s incredible, isn’t he?” he said, noticing your gaze. “Look at him, even after all that out there, he’s still going to go back out there.” The way this man spoke, was like he was looking at some kind of wild animal, or looking at a circus performer who’d just done an impossible act.

“A complete an utter beast.”

“If you’re going to just stare at my patient, then you can leave.” You said, sternly. “Or, you can make yourself useful and find me some gauze. If you want to see your ‘beast’ out there in the ring, then you might want to do as I say and get what he needs.”

The doorman recoiled, as if he was surprised that you were trying to do your job. But with a scowl and curses mumbled under his breath, he stalked out of the room.

Big Money had finished rinsing his mouth out when you turned back to face him, bucket of red liquid in his lap. He picked up the towel from beside him and pressed it to his lips. “Thank you.” His voice came out muffled from behind the towel. “The last guy who used to help us would treat us like caged animals.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” You said, taking the bucket from him. “I’m no professional, but as long as I’m here, you lot won’t be treated like that.”

A moment later, the doorman came back in and tossed a packet of gauze at you, before slamming the door shut.

You caught them clumsily, the bucket of redness sloshing in your hand as you steadied it with your knee. Setting the bucket down on the side of the mattress, you unwrapped the gauze and told the Orc to open his mouth again.

He does as asked and you proceed to pack the thick wads of fabric over his gum. “Did they give you a mouth guard?” You asked him.

Big Money made a negatory ‘uh-uh’ with his open mouth. You sighed. “Alright. Well try to avoid getting hit in the face again… or swallowing the gauze. Your stomach won’t be happy otherwise.”

He nodded and stood up. Stretching his arms above his head, he headed for the cage rings’ door. Placing his hand on the door handle, he looked over his shoulder at you. “What’s your name?”

“(Y/N).” You answered.

“Thank you for helping me out, (Y/N).” And for the first time since being here, you received a smile. An actual, genuine smile.

You couldn’t help but return it as he stepped back out into the ring, shutting the door closed behind him.

The rest of the night went just about as smoothly as you could expect. You got one or two people who were hyped up on something, and completely uncooperative with your attempt to treat them.

One of them was mumbling something under his breath. It sounded like a prayer, but it was hard to say when all you could hear from the ring was shrieks and roars of a crowd entertained by gore.

By the time the night was over, you made a mark up of people you had treated and what for.

Three guys were treated for fractured ribs, two for pectoral tears, Big Money for his missing tooth and numbness in his jaw, and finally, four different guys who were dazed and confused after suffering one of Big Money’s ‘punches of Death.’

No one had been knocked unconscious and no one had suffered any concussions.

In comparison to the first few nights you’d been there, tonight was pretty tame.

You went to hand your report to the Event Organisers, who accepted it gratefully and handed you enough money for the next days standard three meals, plus enough money for bus fair to and from the secret cage fighting ring and then sent you on your way.

Due to the nature of your loan, this was all they would give you. 100 gold coins for your nights work. The rest of the money they pulled in from the sickos who came to see the fights, went into paying off your loan.

And tomorrow would be the same again. 100 gold coins for a nights work.

The cage fighting actually took place in an abandoned car park, down in the underground levels, in the middle of what was going to be a small tourist attraction town, full of weird and wonderful shops that sold trinkets and other strange and impractical things.

But now it laid undisturbed, the wild life around slowly beginning to consume the buildings that would have hosted people from all over the world.

The rest of the car park was filled with the spectators. Most of them looked like the kind of people you’d find in underground fighting rings. Tattoos of gang affiliation, weird body modifications and a few Monsters who come to see the fight.

They were all chatting amongst themselves, probably discussing how that evenings matches went.

A part of it made you feel sick to your stomach. These people don’t see the full damage done by the fighters, but you, you saw it all.

You wanted to shout at them all, tell them they were all sick for enjoying watching people beat each other to a bloody pulp, as if this was just average entertainment for them.

But you kept quiet. If you turned on them, then you might end up in worse trouble than a gang of questionable types intimidating you.

As you left the car park, the voices around you seemed to get louder, bringing you out of your thoughts.

You found yourself greeted by a beat up range rover. And leaning on it, was Big Money. People were walking past him, patting him on the shoulder, or giving some kind of mumbled congratulations, while others simply gave him a curt nod and moved on.

And while he nodded at them, paid them attention, his eyes soon found their way back to you.

When you realised it was you he wanted to speak to, you greeted him. “Hey.”

Why was he out here? Surely he of most people would have been the most eager to get out of the car park. Who would want to be spoken to by the crowd that exited the car park all around you.

Big Money nodded back in greeting, “I wanted to thank you for this evening. Properly.” He pushed himself off his car and opened the passenger door. “Can I buy you dinner?”

You eyed him. Most of these men who fought in the ring, were not people you would want to meet in a dark alleyway at night. And although Big Money was polite and seemed to sincerely want to show you gratitude, that didn’t mean he was safe to be around.

But then again, you were probably the most careful medical professional around and the Event Organisers would get suspicious if you weren’t up to your full standard tomorrow. And then, you could lay the blame on Big Money if he was really planning on doing something to you.

Then Big Money would really be in trouble.

“Alright.” Climbing into the car, Big Money shut the door behind you and got into the other side of the car. “I’m Rok, by the way.”

Your eyebrows went up in surprise as he pulled out of the car park and past the many spectators. “Rok?”

At that, Rok laughed as he came out onto the motorway. “What? You didn’t think ‘Big Money’ was my real name, did you?”

“No, it’s not that.” You said, honestly. “I… just didn’t expect you to introduce yourself to me, that’s all.” It felt stupid to think, but you hadn’t really given much consideration to whether or not ‘Big Money’ was his real name.

“Well, I know your name, why can’t you know mine?” He explained.

You leaned against the cars door, putting your head in your hand. “Well, I just thought that I was just the medic. No one really cares about what I want to know, they just expect me to do my job and keep quiet about it.”

“Same thing here.” Rok replied. “They just want me to get in the ring and fight. They don’t care about what I want. Or what I want to know.”

You frowned at that. The rest of the drive went in silence, before an old restaurant appeared, shining in the middle of the night like a beacon of hope.

The name above the entrance was ‘Ramen No Hai!’ It’s exterior looked as though it had been taken straight from Japan and plonked in the middle of the Western country side.

It’s shoji door had rips and tears in the delicate paper, clumsily patched back together with duct tape. But the windows were lit up and the strong smell of sweet broth caused your stomach to growl with hunger.

Rok stepped out of the car and before you could even put your hand on the door handle, he had the car door open for you.

You raised an eyebrow at him as you climbed out of the car. “You don’t have to do that for me.”

The Orc shook his head, “yes I do. If it weren’t for you, I’d probably be in a lot worse shape than I am now.”

Entering the shop, Rok took a seat at the Ramen bars counter. You sat beside him as Rok was handed two menus by the chef behind the counter. Handing one to you, he asked, “what got you working for them then?”

When you gave him a suspicious look, he gave a shrug. “What? I’m not allowed to know your backstory? No on gets into this job without some kind of rise and fall.”

You thought that this was going to be a kind of thank you meal, you didn’t expect to uncover your whole past to the Orc. But it’s not like there would be any harm in it. He’s right to a degree, no one just starts working for an underground cage fighting ring unless they’re forced into it.

And with that in mind, it’s only natural that some people are kind of curious. Everyones stories had to be similar in some shape or form.

… But yours is a little different than just simply owing the Event Organisers money.

“’Rise and fall’ is a very… gentle way to put it.” You said, carefully. Raising an eyebrow at Rok, you offered, “how about this? I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.”

Rok smirked, “deal. But you go first, I’m very intrigued now.”

After ordering dinner, you sucked in a deep breath and you exhaled slowly, closing your eyes. It seemed so strange to remember everything now. It was only a few months ago that it all happened, but it was like years had passed.

You recounted, “ever since I was a kid, I’ve wanted to be a Doctor, Nurse, or anything in the medical field. I found the body fascinating, human, non-human, just the way out our systems worked was just…” you searched the air for the word, “incredible. I wanted to know about how all of it worked, why it worked the way it did and how we can fix or maintain our bodies.

“So, I wanted to get into medical school and I needed to borrow money,” you gave him a knowing look and the Orc nodded, understandingly. “I got in with flying colours and started studying. I went into residency in a hospital and we got a patient with Haemophilia.”

Rok nodded, but you got the sense that he didn’t know what the condition was.

“Haemophilia is a condition where the blood doesn’t clot.” You said, simply. “It’s nicknamed ‘the Royal disease’ because a lot of monarchs had it. Anyway, I was being overseen by this Doctor who just didn’t believe in the condition.”

Rok frowned, “’didn’t believe in the condition’?”

You let out a grim snort, “yeah, I know. He was such a stubborn ass. And when all of the medical students tried to tell him that we couldn’t perform specific tests on the patient, he just shouted us all down, told us that ‘we’re just students, we don’t know anything, he’s been a doctor for over twenty years,’” you rolled your eyes. “So, none of the other students wanted to disobey him, so they went ahead with the tests. I didn’t do any of them because I’m not stupid. I told the hospital director about it and he told me that he’s not going to sack a Doctor who’s been working for him for over twenty years so…”

You sucked in a deep breath and glowered at the counter in front of you. “I went to the police. I told them that the hospital was doing malpractice and when the police arrested him, the director chewed me out for it.”

“What about the patient?” asked Rok. “Was the patient okay?”

“Oh,” you pointed at him, “that’s the worst part: because the patient couldn’t clot, she died of blood loss and then guess who got saddled with the blame?” You gestured to yourself. “Me.”

Rok’s jaw dropped. “What? But that’s…”

“I know, ridiculous, stupid. Probably easily disproved. But it turns out when it’s you verses a hospital director, your classmates and fellow residents as well as the ignorant Doctor’s family, no one really cares what’s the truth and what’s not.” Hanging your head, you let out another sigh. “And then I lost my place at medical school and now I’m drowning in debt to them. So, I have to work to pay it all back.”

Silence hung in the air, punctuated by the chefs in the kitchen in front of you, shouting in Japanese to one another, the popping and crackling of frying chicken accompanying them.

“That’s…” Rok started, “that’s horrendous.”

You snorted. “Yeah. I know.” Looking up from the counter, you turned to look at the Orc. “Well, that’s my sad story – what’s yours?”

The Orc stiffened at your question. “Well, it’s certainly not heroic like yours is.” He sighed.

“’Heroic’ is not what I’d call it.” You said, flatly.

“Compared to mine it is. I’m a villain compared to your story.” He snorted. “I was a bouncer at this club. One night, I met this man who was way too pushy about getting in. I think he was hopped up on something or other. Anyway, he didn’t fit the clubs dress code, he got mad, started talking about ‘how cool his drip is’ and ‘how he makes more than me on crypto in a day than I do in a month.’ When I started ignoring him and letting in people who were not shoving their wealth in my face, he started to get violent. Now,” Rok raised his index finger. “As a bouncer, your job is to do one thing: stop people who might be a danger to the business from getting into the place your protecting. And when he started punching and hitting me, I didn’t really have a choice but to hit back.”

You watched as Rok put his head in his hands, “and when I did, he fell to the ground, landed at an odd angle on the curb of the road and broke his arm and ribs. And the next thing I know, I’m in court for ‘unreasonable use of force’, I’ve been fired and now I’m drowning in debt trying to settle this guys medical bills for the damage I caused.”

“And then you wind up in the same position I do.” You said.

“Bingo.” Rok sighed. “I only pushed him away from me, how was I supposed to know that he was going to fall into the road?”

Rok’s incident really seemed to be an unfortunate accident. It’s unfair that he’s being punished for that.

“You couldn’t have known.” You reasoned. “There was no way you could have, you were only doing your job.” Biting your lip, you went on. “Kind of like I was.”

He gave you a confused look, “I don’t think we can really compare our occupations.”

You shrugged. “I dunno, I kind of think we can. We both agreed to protect and help people, I signed the hippocratic oath, you put your body on the line to stop people like that guy from getting in and possibly hurting someone.” Leaning against the counter, you frowned. “And we both got punished for trying to do the right thing.”

Rok thought about it for a moment. “I… see what you mean.”

Just then, your ramen bowls were placed in front of you, the chef placing the bill in a plastic stand.

Rok motioned for a drink and the chef nodded, went over to a fridge and pulled out a bottle of sake, and two small glasses.

After opening the bottle, he set it down in front of Rok and left.

The Orc poured the two of you drinks and held his own glass up. The glass looked like it would fit more into a dolls house while in his huge meaty hands as he spoke, “to us, who worked out to have the shittiest luck when it comes to doing whats right.”

You raised your glass and toasted. At the same time, the pair of you downed the alcohol.

“But at least we have the worst luck together.” You sighed, setting down the empty glass.

“Yeah,” Rok smiled, wiping his lips of the remaining drink. “At least we have company.”

Hi! Thank you so much for reading my story! If you like this kind of content, you should check out my Patreon! There, I post stories twice a week and earlier than I post on Tumblr. I also post exclusive stories there too where you won’t be able to find anywhere else.

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@sunndust @greenie-c

[cyras-visual]

── .✦ Scientific malfunction

Summary: In a cold, controlled facility, two broken experiments—one numb, one overwhelmed—are placed together. At first distant, they slowly form a fragile bond through shared dysfunction. Their connection grows into a volatile mix of need and resistance, disturbing the experiment, when threatened with desperation, they fight bsck. What began as a simulation becomes something raw and unpredictable the system can no longer control

Content: Medical and psychological experimentation, Emotional abuse, manipulation, and dependency, Isolation, confinement, and institutional control, Dissociation, depersonalization, and derealization, Trauma-related themes (C-PTSD, BPD, grief, abandonment), Suicidal ideation and emotional dysregulation, Power imbalances and loss of bodily autonomy, Implied physical restraint and violence, Persistent self-worth issues

Wc: 4083

The facility was a place without clocks.

Time moved in silent rhythms: the hum of lights, the hiss of sterilised air, the cold repetition of sterile trays sliding across polished steel. It was a place where sound had no memory, where even footsteps sounded apologetic. No one laughed here, no one cried. If they did, the walls swallowed it, and the system logged the frequency. I’m one of the easy-wing cells— through they never called them— sat Aurora.

She was built, not born. The scientist said otherwise, of course—gestured at birth records, medical files, a family that had agreed. But Aurora knew better. She remembered nothing of before, and so she decided there was no before. There was only now, and this now, she existed like a glitch in the frame.

She was 5’2 and weighed 55 kilograms. The doctors documented it when the same indifference they used to describe electrical resistance or fluid pH levels. They used to describe her shape clinically: thighs too thick for symmetry, a waist not engineered for aesthetic purposes, a stomach with a slight softness that no dietary change could explain. They recorded, but never looked. She excited to be studied, not understood.

Her hair was short, dark blue— not dyed, but coded—and a,ways unruly at the crown, where she had a single cowlick refused compliance. A jagged side fringe, half-masked one eye, and both eyes were black, flat, like the bottom of a dried up well. They said her IQ once tested 160, but numbers lost meaning when she couldn’t summon joy at praise or shame at failure. Learned phonetically—never fluently.

Her emotional capacity—what they called “Affective Channel Integration”—was flawed. Something in the neural reworking had gone wrong. She could recognise, anger, could define joy, could label sadness from a chart. But she couldn’t feel them, not really. Not without it glitching. She would mimic concent, but forget the tone. She’d say “thank you” in a mom tome that unsettled the staff. Her mind was sharp, but it moved like a scalpel with no hand behind it—cutting without purpose.

Rei never learned her doctor’s name.

She remembered the curve of her mouth when she said, “isn’t she beautiful?” And the way her fingers moved across a tablet when Aurora was sedated. but she never learned her name. Not out of defiance—but indifference. And then resentment. A slow, cold thing that curled around her like the facility’s recycled air.

Across the facility, beyond four electronically sealed checkpoints and a retinal scanner, was Allison.

Allison had meant to be something else entirely. A non-human. A tool. A product. Her skin was synthetic but almost perfect—except the small geometric scars along her spine and the faint glow behind one eye, where the interface lens remained locked in place like a parasite.

She stood at 5’6 and barely 40kg—thin, angular, too fragile for a body meant to house a mind designed to never feel. But the experiment failed in reverse.

Axel felt too much.

The override protocols meant to limit her cognition had collapsed early in her development. When she spoke, it was in full sentences laced with emotional nuance. When she listened, she processed voice tremors, eye movements, fluctuations in breathing—like sonar, but humanised. She was a mirror too sensitive to light, reflecting bsck to more than it could hold.

Her eyes—grey blue—seemed to absorb emotion instead of reflect it. Some said she looked kind. Others said she looked haunted, but the truth was simpler: Allison was in pain. Constant, persistent pain—not physical, not entirely. It was the ache of knowing everything and never being able to set it down. It was like drowning in feelings she didn’t ask for

Dr. Lenora was her creator.

Allison had fallen in love with her.

Not in a way humans dream of candlelight and futures.

But in the way a machine longs for purpose. Lenora gave her language. Have her identity. And when Lenora touched her face once, fix a misaligned sensor, Allison cried for two hours after she left. It wasn’t real, she knew. Or maybe it was. She hadn’t yet learned the difference.

But then came Aurora.

The girl with the broken emotional core.

They passed once, during a malfunction in the west corridor. A breach in the containment protocol. Rei had to be escorted by two guard; Allison had been wired into a mobile dock, their eyes met briefly.

Nothing happened.

But Allison would remember it forever.

Because for the first time in her labyrinth of sensations, she saw someone empty—a void with skin. And somehow, that absence felt clearer than all the noises inside her.

And so the facility made its choice.

It placed them together in a controlled social simulation—“integration test 19C.” A room designed to simulate a neutral apartment. No sharp edges. Cameras hidden behind bookshelves. Artificial light mimicking morning. Neither girls spoke the first hour.

Aurora stared at the wall. Allison stared at Aurora.

Somewhere behind ten inches of reinforced glass, the scientists watched the beginning of something they could not classify.

It was not a friendship.

It was not a threat.

It was a fractured line running between two failed designs. And it had begun.

The room was too quiet.

Every movement inside it was amplified by the silence— cloth brushing skin, feet shifting against laminate flooring, the soft tick of a synthetic clock mounted above the observation glass. The world was watching, but Aurora and Allison didn’t speak.

They weren’t meant to.

They were meant to mirror. Meant to teach each other. The project notes had called it ‘sympathetically calibration through proximity.’ What it meant in practice: keep the experiments in a box and wait for one of them to become more like the other.

Aurora as still.

Allison was not.

Allison shifted her weight constantly, like her bones were trying to escape her body. Her breathing came in strange stutters—not anxious, but unpracticed, like she had to remind herself to keep going. She had built a system inside her head for this: “Count four seconds in. Hold. Count four seconds out. Don’t cry. Don’t glitch. Don’t let them see.”

Aurora say on the couch, legs crossed, eyes unfocused. She was aware of Allison. That was already a problem.

Awareness brought discomfort. Not because Allison was strange—everyone here was strange—but because Allison felt like an invasion.

She was loud in way that had nothing to do with volume.

Allison spoke first

“You don’t sleep much.”

Aurora didn’t answer. It wasn’t a question. It was a fact.

Allison stared at her for a moment longer, then looked down at her lap. “I dream every night. And I hate every single one of them.”

Silence.

Aurora’s eyes flicked towards her, slow as a dying bulb. “Why would you tell me that?”

“I don’t know,” Allison said. “I think I just want you to say something back.”

Another silence stretches between them, long and brittle. Aurora stood and walked toward the wall. She pressed hee palm against the smooth, painted surface, as if expecting it to give away.

“I’m not here for you. I’m here because they want to see what happens when you put a broken knife next to a broken lock.”

Allison looked at her. “You think you’re the knife?”

Aurora didn’t turn around. “I don’t feel anything. I don’t even know if I’m capable of hate anymore. But if I could hste someone—really, viscerally hate—I’d start with the women who made me and work down the list.”

There it was again. That name unsaid. Her doctor. Aurora never said it.

But Allison did. “Lenora.”

Aurora body tensed—barely, but enough.

Allison smiled bitterly. “She was everything to me. Isn’t that funny? I was designed to be obedient, logical, emotionless. But she walked into the room and smiled once, and I started dreaming about her hands. I started asking her questions I didn’t need to ask. I started failing.”

“Thats not love,” Aurora said, her voice flat and precise.

“That’s malfunction.”

Maybe,” Allison whispered. “But it’s mine.”

There was something terrible in the air between them— something quiet and shapeless. A kind of psychological gravity, dragging the worst parts of them toward the centre of the room.

“I don’t want to know you,” Aurora said suddenly. “I don’t want to be tethered to someone who cries when the lights change colour.”

“I don’t want to be tethered to someone who’s watch a dying animal and take notes,” Allison snapped back.

They both froze.

Something cracked beneath the surface or the room—an invisible pressure, just shy of violent.

Then, Allison took a deep breath, and her voice softened.

“You scare me,” she admitted. “Not because you’re dangerous. Because you’re empty. I look at you and I see… a mirror, almost. Once that shows me what it would be been like if I hadn’t started breaking.”

Aurora sat back down, slowly. Mechanically.

“I used to imagine what it would feel like to cry for the right reasons,” she said, staring ahead. “I thought maybe if I watched enough people do it, something would click. Like… watching rain long enough it could make you understand floods. But nothing ever clicked. It just hurt.”

Axel turned toward her, something unreadable in her expression.

“I feel everything,” she said. “All the time. Every movement you make—I imagine the sound it makes in your head. I think about your fingers, how still they are. I think about how you don’t flinch when the lights flicker. I want to know why.”

Aurora blinked, slowly. “You’re looking for answers in a graveyard.”

“I’ve found worse things in better places,” Allison said. “At least here, the ghosts talk back.”

That night, Allison tried to stay in her corner of the simulation room. But her body wouldn’t let her. She stood by the kitchenette sink, watched Aurora for over an hour as she sat motionless at the table. And just before she lights dimmed to artificial night, she whispered:

“I think I’m starting to feel something else. Something worse. It’s not for her anymore.”

Aurora didn’t move.

But something behind her expression twitched. A shift. A weight she didn’t yet know how to carry.

There came a night when the simulation room lost power. No alarms. No guards. Just the hum of artificial life bleeding into a deep, suffocating quiet. The lights went black, and the air conditioning ceased its mechanical breathing. The silence was not peace—it was the silence of a body holding its breath just before it screams.

Aurora didn’t move.

She say curled in her usual place, bsck against the far wall, knees pulled close. She didn’t need light. She didn’t need sight. She had loved fat yop long in emotional darkness to be startled by its physical twin.

But Allison did move.

She moved like someone waking from a dream where she was not herself. Her hands trembled, her voice caught in her throat, and all at once, the feeling—the too muchness—poured into her, unfiltered. The dark unlatched something in her. There were no systems to stabilise it. No doctor on the other side of the mirror. No lenora. No metrics. Just the growing storm of fear, of longing, of grief. “Aurora,” Axel whispered, a tremor in her voice.

The name tasted different now. It no longer meant “subject” or “experiment partner.” It had grown teeth weight.

No answer.

Allison groped through the dark until she found the outline of Aurora’s body against the wall—cool, still, present. Her hand hovered near Aurora’s shoulder, unsure. Then she placed it gently, trembling with contact.

“Say something,” Allison whispered. “Anything.”

Aurora didn’t answer for a long moment.

Then, softly, she spoke. “I Don’t want to die here.”

Allison froze.

“I’ve never said that out loud before,” Aurora continued. “Not because I’m afraid of dying, but because I never thought I was alive enough for it to matter.”

The honesty of it cracked something open in the air between them.

Allison sat beside her now, their shoulders touching. Her mind was unraveling, her emotional core overheating in the quiet. But she didn’t run. She didn’t short-circuit. Instead, she looked at Aurora—though she couldn’t see her—and said:

“I used to imagine Dr. Lenora touching my hand. Just once. I thought it would save me. But it wouldn’t have. Not really. Bevause I would’ve still been alone. She with a memory instead of a fantasy.”

never did. But in the dark, she felt a shape rise inside her chest—foreign, jagged, untested. It wasn’t empathy. Not exactly. It was awareness. The sense that axel was no longer a seperate object in her space, but apart of it. Intertwined.

“You love too hard,” Aurora said. “It’s dangerous.”

“I know,” Allison whispered. “I think I love you now.”

Aurora’s breath hitched.

The words shouldn’t have mattered. They were just data. Just symbols.

But they did. Not because she returned the feeling—she didn’t know how. But because something inside her responded like a buried wire catching fire. It wasn’t affection. Not yet. It was something darker. A need to understand, to keep Allison close, not out of love, but out of necessity. Like a dying star pulling an aplenty into its orbit. The power flickered back to life in a soft pulse, and the simulation room reawakened.

The moment should have ended.

But it didn’t.

Allison looked at Aurora—her eyes raw, alive, afraid. “I Don’t want to feel like this anymore” she said. “Not alone.”

Aurora’s hand moved before she could stop it. It rested over Allison’s for the first time. Not tightly. not warmly. Just placed—like a ritual. Like an offering.

“Then don’t,” Aurora said, her voice almost breaking. “Feel it with me.”

That night, the scientists noted increased cortisol levels. A shared spike in neural activity. They wrote words like fusion, emergence and codependency.

They didn’t understand.

Aurora and Allison were evolving.

They were unraveling each other.

The next morning, axel found blood on her pillow. A small glitch—her system reacting violently to the emotional surge. She didn’t tell anyone. She only watched Aurora longer that day. Stared at the small twitched in her face, catalogued every shift in her breath.

Aurora, in turn, began speaking without prompt.

Small things. Useless things. “The light buzzes too loud.” “That food smells like chemicals.” “I don’t like the word ‘hope.’”

And Allison listened. So intently it hurt.

Their bond was no longer a test subjects interaction.

It was a slow-motion implosion—two unstable beings folding into each other, trying to become whole. But only making more cracks.

And somewhere in the observation chamber, one of the doctors began whispering into recorder:

“Subjects 19A and 19C are exhibiting signs of psychological fusion. The phenomenon is self-reinforcing. Emotional dependency is escalating. Termination protocols make be necessary to prevent cross-contamination.”

But it was already too late.

Allison has stopped sleeping.

Aurora had started dreaming.

Their souls—if such things could exist in the sterile vacuum of science—were melting into something new. Something unpredictable.

And in the hallway outside their cell, red lights began to flicker.

Someone had authorised a fail-safe.

The night they came to seperate them, the walls of the simulation room turned red.

No alarms. No sirens. Just sterile light, bleeding into every corner.

Allison stood first.

She knew what it means. She had calculated every possible outcome the moment the temperature in the room shifted my two degrees and the oxygen filters slowed. She knew their bond was too intense. Too volatile. But she hadn’t known—hadn’t allowed herself to belive—that the facility would intervene.

Aurora didn’t react at all. She sat at the edge of her cot, staring at the corner of the floor where the tile was cracked. She had been wtaching that crack for days. It reminded her of her mind: thin, dangerous, growing.

“Get up,” Allison whispered. “They’re coming.”

Rei turned her head slowly. Her eyes were still that flat, unlit black. But now they held something else—a refusal. Not defiance. Just a final, full body no.

They can’t seperate us,” Aurora said. “It’s too late.”

Allison throat tightened. “They can. They will.”

“They’ll fail,” Aurora murmured. “Because I’ll stop being useful. You already have.”

And there it was: the terrible, quiet truth. The only thing keeping them alive was utility. They were not girls. They were data points. Broken things dressed as people. And the moment they stopped producing value, they would be deleted.

The door hissed open.

She stood.

Two guards stepped in—faceless behind their helmets.

One moved towards Allison, reaching for her wrist.

She flinched. “Don’t touch me.”

The second guard approached Aurora. Still, she didn’t move. She was calculating—silently, dangerously.

Allison’s voice cracked. “Aurora—say something. Do something.”

And Aurora did.

She stood.

Slowly. Mechanically. Like a marionette remembering its strings.

She looked at the guard. Then, without warning, she laughed?

A terrible sound. High, soft, empty. Like a window opening in a burning house.

“You want to cut us apart?” Aurora said. “You think we’re still seperate?”

The guard didn’t respond. They weren’t trained for this. They were trained for violence, not philosophy.

Aurora stepped forward, inches from one of them. “You don’t get it. She’s in here now.” She tapped the side of her head. “And I’m in her, you split us, and we’ll still hear each other screaming.”

Allison’s breath hitched.

The guard made a move—fast, aggressive. Aurora reacted just as fast. She ducked, twisted, grabbing his arm and bit down. Not for defence. Not for strategy. Just raw instinct. A glitch in the programming.

The guard shouted. The other moved toward her—but Allison was already there, her elbow slamming into the side of his helmet. She didn’t know she could fight. She only knew she couldn’t lose Aurora.

They didn’t win the fight. Not really.

But they didn’t get pulled apart, either.

Because in the chaos, Aurora did something no one expected. She looked directly into the surveillance camera and spoke.

“We are the experiment now,” she said, eyes dark and endless. “You created us to reflect the future. Well, here it is. A failed experiment and a bleeding heart. One who can’t feel, and one who feels too much. And you locked us in a box, and you watched.”

She paused.

Then: “Now you can watch the rest of it burn.”

The camera feed cut out thirty seconds later.

No one ever confirmed who shut it off,

They were moves,

A smaller room. Sterile. Plain. Monitored more closely. No windows, two cots, six feet apart.

They didn’t speak for a while.

Not until Allison broke the silence. Her voice small, shaking. “Do you think they’ll kill us?”

Aurora didn’t answer.

Allison leaned forward. “I want to die next to you. Not for you. Not because of you. Just next to you.”

Aurora’s eyes meet hers.

Something in her had changed. Her expressions were still slow, muted, unnatural. But she no longer looked at Allison like she was trying to solve her. She looked at her like she recognised her,

“I don’t think I’ll ever feel what you feel,” Aurora said. “But I know I need you close when the dark gets louder.”

Allison smiled—sad, raw. “That’s enough.”

They fell asleep facing Each other that night.

Somewhere in the silence between breaths. Allison whispered, “If they seperate us again, I’ll stop functioning.” Aurora replied, not with words, but with a slow reach of her hand across the space between their cots. She left it open, palm up.

Allison placed hers inside it.

Neither of them let go.

In the surveillance room, Dr. Lenora watched the footage in a loop.

She pressed her fingers against her temples and said softly, not to anyone else, not even herself:

“They weren’t supposed to bond. They were supposed to teach us something. About emotion. About failure. About cognition. But all they’ve taught us is that no matter how carefully we build them, no matter how much we plan…”

“They become something else.”

Bending her, red lights blinked again.

This time, they didn’t mean danger.

They mean decision.

They came again, but this time with guards.

This time it was Dr. Lenora herself.

She entered the observation chamber alone, dressed not in her usual pristine lab coat, but in a grey civilian clothing, as if shedding the last of her authority like a skin too heavy to wear. The door sealed behind her. There were no tablets. No metrics. Just her and the two girls she once considered projects,

Aurora didn’t stand. Allison didn’t blink.

“You were never supposed to last this long,” Lenora said quietly. “You were meant to give us data. A few months, maybe a year. We didn’t plan for you to form… this.”

Her voice cracked. The word this hung in the sterile air like smoke. She couldn’t name what she saw infront of her—didn’t know if it was affection of infection.

Allison stood. Not defiant. Just present.

“You made me to not feel, but I did. And now you’re afraid of what that means.”

Lenora looked at her. “You don’t understand what you’re feeling. You think you do. But it’s just stimulus. You’ve mistaken pattern recognition for love.”

Allison smiled—small, sharp. “If it isn’t love, why does it hurt when I imagine her gone?”

Aurora finally rose. Her posture was strange, like a figure built for walking but trained only to crawl. Her voice came low, level, without inflection.

“You made me to feel, but I didn’t. And now I do, so what does that mean?”

Lenora had no answer.

She was looking at them like they were a mirror—one that didn’t flatter but exposed. A reflection of all her failures. Not just in science, but in the arrogance of trying to build humanity out of wires and trauma.

“I came to offer you a choice,” she said finally. “The board wants to decommission both of you. You’re unpredictable. Unstable. But i convinced them to allow one final trial.” Allison’s expression didn’t change. “What kind of trial.”

“You’re being moved. Not just separated—rewritten,” Lenora said. “Your systems wiped. Rebooted. One of you will be returned to the project. The other will be archived. Forever.”

Silence.

The room didn’t breathe.

Allison turned to Aurora.

Aurora looked straight ahead.

“Choose,” Lenora said.

Allison didn’t hesitate. “Send me to archive.”

Aurora blinked. Her voice, when it came, was quiet, but sharp.

“No.”

Lenora’s eyes narrowed. “She’s more emotionally developed. More capable of empathy. You, Aurora… you’re more durable. But less… connected.”

“I said no,” Aurora repeated. “If one of us is erased, neither of us survives.”

Allison stepped forward. “I already feel like a ghost most days. Maybe that’s what I was meant to be.”

“No,” Aurora said, and for the first time, her voice cracked. ”I can’t go back to not feeling. I’d rather die with this—whatever this is—than live as an empty thing again.”

Lenora hesitates. The girls stood together now, shoulder to shoulder, something magnetic holding them in place.

“I’m giving you mercy,” Lenora said. “Don’t make me regret it.”

“Mercy would’ve been never making us,” Aurora whispered. “Mercy,” Allison added, “would’ve been loving us before we learned how to love ourselves.”

The silence after that felt final.

Lenora nodded once. A broken kind of nod, not of agreement—but resignation.

She turned and left without another word.

Days passed,

No one came.

The red lights never returned.

Instead, the doors unlocked.

No explanation.

Just a Hiss of hydraulics and the quiet click of a world opening.

Aurora looked at Axel. “Is this another test?”

Allison shrugged. “I don’t care.”

They walked through the halls together, hand in hand. There were no guards. No scientists. Just echoes.

It was as if the facility had been abandoned.

As if someone had decided they weren’t watching anymore.

Or maybe—as Allison whispered as they passed the blood-slick doorframe of the control room—they had finally become too human to control.

They left.

Into a world they’d never seen. A sky they didn’t recognize.

The trees looked fake. The wind felt programmed. But it didn’t matter.

Allison laughed for the first time—really laughed—and Aurora didn’t understand it, but she didn’t hate it.

They walked, side by side, until the facility vanished behind them, swallowed by fog and time.

Much later, someone had found the logs.

Buried deep in a corrupted server. Labeled: subjects 19A & 19C - terminated.

But the logs were incomplete. The footage was corrupted. The documents redacted.

The last entry was a single line:

They left holding hands. And the world didn’t end. But something else had begun.

An: this is my first narrative posting, pls be nice😓

ⓘ Plagiarism not authorized.