#tw:stitches

[andnatiabrosca]

heads up, seven up

tagged by @herearedragons to post 7 sentences from a WIP. (I saw your responsible tag of "tw:stitches" and will not be reading your excerpt but I'm sure it's good!)

I...don't actually know anyone else who has works on the fire right now. If you're reading this and have works/would like tagged in the future - consider yourself tagged & let me know!

this is a quick pull from 'love knows life' since I /am/ working on it...mostly (it's in scrivener! I'm just budgeting how much I use of the free trial as far as I can).

you actually get 8 because 7 would be right before the end of the paragraph & they should not be separated

Someone else walks her body through the palace halls, smiling at the servants she passes, making small talk with the nobles who seek attention.  Nat is trapped somewhere inside the skin, unshed tears building into a terrible burning-drowning sensation.  Someone else walks her body through the halls, pushing her down behind a granite wall and everything is muffled, grey. Someone else locks the door. Nat shatters the vase beside the door.  The bottle on her nightstand.  The jar she’s meant to fill with salve.  The tears run, now, blurring away the sherds of her destruction.

thanks for the tag!

[clickerflight]

Hyrum

Here we have the boy. His body is in the state after Ephraim found him and after he gave him the first bath and Margie sewed up some of his wounds. I want to give him a hug so badly. 

Masterpost

Clove Taglist: @wolfeyedwitch​ @the-blind-one-speaks​ @whumpsday​ @extrabitterbrain​

[gimmethemprimals]

Mel is an Arcane exalt.

Mel is a quiet Pearlcatcher.

Mel loves her friends.

Mel’s friends keep disappearing.

Mel disappears sometimes.

Mel says she likes having alone time.

Mel’s friends keep disappearing.

Mel keeps disappearing.

-

-

Beldam is a dangerous shade beast.

Beldam is under no circumstances to be took on alone.

Beldam’s body is not hers.

Beldam’s body belongs to several different dragons.

Beldam strikes dragons when they’re alone.

Beldam keeps appearing.

Beldam loves her friends.

[elevanetheirin]

Yay no more stitches! Looks worse than it was because I still had marker where she placed the incision. No infection so it's clean just marker,stitches and bruising. Clearly we don't care what a foot scar will look like cuz those are some massive gaps in the stitches 🤣

*trigger warning graphic stitches photo*

[greygalactic]

[my-whumpy-little-heart]

Persistence - 8

No BTHB prompt for this part. Find the masterlist for this series here, or the previous part linked in the first line.

Tag list (dm or ask to be added or removed): @whump-tr0pes, @burtlederp, @castielamigos-whump-side-blog, @doitforthewhump, @shameless-whumper, @endless-whump, @theycomeinthrees, @faewhump

CW: creepy whumper, painful wound cleaning, mild gore for brief description of stitches, stockholm syndrome-y vibes (but the whumpee is just delirious, not attached), pet whump mention (again, not actually)

“You’re gonna make such a good mage for me, aren’t you? Just for me, that’s right…”

Somewhere just beneath the surface Floyd desperately wanted to shake his head no no no a thousand times over, but he settled for dry heaving onto the floor next to him before blacking out.

Floyd opened his eyes and everything set in slowly. Arms pressed against him and the cuts all along his body, holding him against someone’s chest. The sharp haze of pain clouded his senses, the world a buzz of noise and color around him.

Eventually he felt the ground rise up to meet his back once again, and he must have passed out again. When he woke, he was being moved around from behind.

“Wha… what’re you doin’...?” Everything was still bleary, but it looked like there was another person in the room standing right in front of him.

“Trying to help you,” he recognized Percival’s voice in his ear, “Now sit up before I drag you by your hair.”

Drowsily, Floyd rolled over and started slowly pushing himself up, but lethargy still clung to his autonomy. He slumped back to the ground, trying to peel his eyes open long enough to see the world spin around him, but it was too little too late. Fingers reached and twisted in his hair, and sharp sparks of pain jolted him to his senses.

The grip tightened and shoved him into a sitting position, Percival’s hands coming around to grab Floyd’s upper arms, an iron grasp pulling him to sit upright.

He blinked in surprise, still dazed by the sudden movement, and noticed that there really was a second person in the room. Narrow, tired eyes looked back at him, glancing before--He? She? He really couldn’t tell--turned back to the table in the corner of the room. His stomach churned at the memory of being strapped to that same table not even a day ago, and he leaned unwittingly back into his captor’s chest.

“Hey, hey, none of that now. Casey’s gonna stitch up those cuts, and you’re going to hold still for them so they don’t mess anything up,” Percival chided, shifting him closer as Floyd tried harder to pull away.

“Nnh- I… what do you mean they? There’s only one pers’n here…” he muttered, finally stilling when he realized he was far too weak to get away.

“Yes. Casey is one person, they go by they, and it’s in your best interest to respect that, Benedict,” he hissed.

“Don’t bother,” came a bored voice above, slurred and careless as they turned away from the table with supplies in hand, “it’s not like your pet’s gonna understand the fine intricacies of human decency.” Casey chuckled quietly to themself as Percival’s face twisted.

“Hey, this one’s not a pet. He’s just a pet project I’ve taken, ah, special interest in.” He pulled a hand through Floyd’s hair as he said it, pulling back on greasy red curls so the boy looked up with a shiver.

Casey stood over him, a needle with some sort of thread in one hand and a bottle of ale in the other. They bent down and he eyed the bottle warily, thirst threatening to overtake him. Alcohol wouldn’t do much to rehydrate him, but to have any liquid at all would be a blessing.

“See that, darling? I saved some ale just for you.”

“Yeah, whatever. Hold it still; it’s not gonna like this,” they sighed, uncorking the ale and kneeling up to get a better look at Floyd’s body. He shivered, feeling bare under their critical gaze. He cringed when they peeled his pants back from dried blood and cuts, rolling them up to have better access.

They reached back for the ale as Percival held him carefully still, and only when it lowered towards his legs did he realize it wasn’t to drink. Casey tipped the bottle and translucent red streaks poured over his legs, mixing with darker, viscous fluid and sliding neatly into slices all the way down to the deep wounds in his heels.

It was a small, cool pressure like the saltwater, but then it was hot and steaming and sharp and overwhelming. He could feel every single pinprick of pain as alcohol flared and raged, as opposed to the hazy, deafening torment of salt. His muscles locked up at the awful sensation, shivering as he clenched his jaw and tried to swallow down a cry. The breathy whimper that came out made him wish he’d just screamed instead.

Floyd gasped deep, hitching breaths when it finally faded into a dull thrum up and down his leg. It was done, and he took his time to calm down before the stitching started. He could make it through this, and maybe mercifully pass out once it was over.

Casey’s hands wrapped around his ankles, and Percival’s around his shoulders, and he’d been spun around before he could protest. His back now faced out, and that left him staring forward into his captor. Agitated cuts on his legs pressed into the floor under him, but he couldn’t shift before he felt the unmistakable sensation of more liquid rolling down his injured back.

Before Floyd could even think, his hands were fisted in Percival’s shirt, head pressed to his chest, and eyes screwed shut as ale seeped quickly into the deepest wounds. This time he let himself shout when it sank in, writhing against the pain. Percival’s chest shook with laughter he couldn’t hear. His arms circled around Floyd’s back in an awful mockery of a hug, hands skimming over cuts and fingers with long, cracked nails pressing cruelly into them. He yelped and shivered every time, feeling them slip under his skin where he never should have been able to feel.

“You do know there’s no point in me cleaning its cuts if you just stick your dirty fingers right back in them afterwards, right?” Casey grumbled, busying themselves with threading the needle. Percival laughed again and moved his hands back up to massage at Floyd’s shoulders.

“Let up, Casey,” he clicked his silver tongue, waving them off, “didn’t you see him? The first hint of pain and he came to me to support him. I think it’s sweet.”

Floyd shivered uncomfortably, flushed with embarrassment and anger. Of course he used Percival to support himself; that freak was the one holding him in the first place. He didn’t have another option.

“...wish it wasn’t you,” he muttered, too scared to confront his captor with anything else he was thinking.

“Oh, Benedict, you poor thing,” Percival pouted maliciously, cupping Floyd’s chin in his hands and tilting it up to look him in the eyes. “There’s nobody else here who would even bother to hold you while you cry. Is seeing my face really such a price to pay?”

He averted his eyes in a silent concession.

“Then why didn’t you just say so in the first place?!” he exclaimed, the shift in his tone just startling enough to drag Floyd’s gaze back up to him. “I can do that for you, darling.”

Percival’s eyes flashed with hot, swirling magenta tones before he faded from vision. He… he turned invisible. That wasn’t what Floyd wanted at all.

“...alright, I’m just gonna start on the stitches so this doesn’t take forever. Hold it still,” they sighed, placing a light hand over one of the wider cuts and positioning the readied needle. Percival pushed his captive back against his chest, looping arms under his shoulders and nodded.

“Go on,” he gestured.

Face buried in his captor’s chest, he struggled to draw deep breaths before the needle slid in, tugging through the corner of a slice. It felt… wrong. It didn’t hurt so much as it tingled, sending his stomach fluttering at the sensation. He held his breath as the next stitch slipped through, slick now with his own blood, pulling sickeningly at skin as the last one tightened further.

Stitches painted a canvas across his back, moving on to another when they closed the first wound. Slowly, Floyd felt himself falling out. His tense muscles went limp, only jumping at occasional deep pricks of the needle, and he closed his eyes. If he imagined hard enough, he could almost pretend the sturdy frame he was curled up against wasn’t his captor, but Ray. The long strings of hair that tickled the back of his neck were Ray’s dark curls, and the sharp scent left on his shirt wasn’t vinegar, but the salty, sandy smell of everything Ray wore.

Slowly, his hands loosened from fists in Ray’s shirt, and wrapped around his midsection in an embrace that the recipient leaned eagerly into. He could hardly feel the needle sliding through his skin anymore, and focused more and more on the comfort of his captain, holding him close after this terrifying nightmare was over. Kind, and warm, and soothing, like a father to his son…

“Alright, that’s it. I could get the ones on its legs, but they’re small and I’m bored,” Casey said, pulling Floyd back to reality. He blinked, realizing that the man he was up against was visible once again and the illusion shattered. He had been hugging Percival,and burying himself in that awful vinegar scent, and feeling his arms around him. At the smug look on his tormentor’s face, Floyd let go of him as quickly as possible and scrambled as far away as his sluggish limbs could get him. He’d just willingly hugged the man who kidnapped and fucking tortured him, and imagined he was someone he admired.

Anger flashed in Percival’s eyes, and he flew forward kneeling right over Floyd and catching his shoulders to keep him from moving any further.

“Don’t. Tear. Your. Stitches.” he seethed. “Casey worked very hard to make sure you don’t bleed out or get very, very sick aside from what I’m going to do to you. So, if you ruined their work this quickly after getting it done, I’d be loath to let you get away without severe punishment.”

He left the threat hanging in the air, but Floyd nodded quickly, face still flaming. He didn’t need examples. He already had them bruised, cut, chafed, and slowly scarring across his body. He didn’t need any more. Percival smiled, dismissing Casey before he spoke.

“Perfect. How do you feel about a meal, then?”

Next part

[fishandchipsandvinegar]

I just updated the last chapters of my crime fic! It’s a wild adventure from start to finish.

@mysunfreckle I hope this ending was worth the wait. ;) You’ve waited long enough for this kiss.

Chapters: 13/13 Fandom: Les Misérables - All Media Types Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Montparnasse/Jean Prouvaire, Claquesous/Fauntleroy (Les Misérables), Courfeyrac & Jean Prouvaire, Combeferre/Courfeyrac, Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables) Characters: Montparnasse (Les Misérables), Jean "Jehan" Prouvaire, Claquesous (Les Misérables), Babet (Les Misérables), Gueulemer (Les Misérables), Enjolras (Les Misérables), Grantaire (Les Misérables), Combeferre (Les Misérables), Éponine Thénardier, Courfeyrac (Les Misérables), Javert (Les Misérables), M. Thénardier (Les Misérables), Félix Tholomyès, Fantine (Les Misérables) Additional Tags: mainly jehanparnasse, Other relationships if you squint, Post heist, Organized Crime, Kidnapping, Attempted Murder, Blood and Violence, Stitches, lying, fleeing from crime, Long-Distance Relationship, Alcohol, blatant misuse of poetry, Fake/Pretend Relationship, for courfjehan Summary:

When Montparnasse is forced to flee to country to escape arrest, Jehan must bridge the gap between the Amis and the Patron-Minette to clear Montparnasse's name and bring him home. However, Inspector Javert is the least of everyone's worries when the gang that set up Montparnasse will stop at nothing to ensure Montparnasse takes the fall.

Will Jehan be able to earn the trust of the Patron-Minette and stay alive long enough to clear Montparnasse's name? Is Montparnasse's love worth the risk a life of crime brings with it?

From ridiculous fake-dating to attempted murder, this fic is a wild adventure.

[blissfcl-blog]

Alright you guys. I had to take my corgi to the vet, his hip was majorly fucked up(we rescued him and apparently he was run over before then). I was able to cover most of the payments but it pushed me into the negatives by about 150 usd.

If anyone could help me that would be great- I dont make that much with my job and every penny counts.

I can be easily reached via IM's.

[skurfiez]

so. I just got home.  i just got robbed.  been at the emergency room and got stitches in my lip. I kept on shouting “thats not a real gun. “  I really can’t believe this actually happened.   two guys approached me and my friend and told us to give us our phones while pressing a ‘’gun’’ onto my back. I just said ‘’ thats not real’’ and ‘’let us go’’ but they kept insisting and when we tried to run I fell hard. I think I tried to hit them. I hope so. they held us against the ground.  They took my phone. My friend wasn’t hurt tho and I’m so fuckin’ thankful for that. 

now im home but i have stitches in my lip and no phone so. well. that’s life i guess. be careful out there. 

[kimhanbinsbandaid]

Hello all! Just updating everyone on the progress on my kitty! Thanks to @carl-emerson and @equusgirl Crystal got surgery almost two weeks ago and he is healing wonderfully! The doctors diagnosed his growth as a wart (or aka a benign tumor) and had the surgery that day! Thank you everyone who reblogged and donated! You guys were literally a huge help! Also thanks to @drunkenavocados for helping me with certain glitches! :)

[lost-my-wings]

Surgery outcomes. It's significantly more bruised than this today but meh. Still annoyingly large. The first picture is the implant site of the port itself. Hence the raised bump. Under the skin there is a catheter that you can feel rubbing from the port up to my jugular and down to my heart. The second is the jugular incision. It's usually about 3 mm long but I got lucky and mine is about an inch and a half. The jugular is stitched shut and the skin is glued due to my EDS. The EDS makes stitches just kinda rip through my skin. This one hurts more than the implant area. Both incisions are on the right side.

[kitsune-scribe]

Ok. I haven't been posting much, or even reading my dash, because I fell earlier this week and cut my hand. I needed FOUR stitches because I tried to catch myself with a circuit board pretending to be a key chain! I do not handle needles or shots well. I needed both, and between the pain in my hand and the sinus headache caused by the rain that's currently hitting the Southland, I am NOT feeling very sociable right now.

[h413y-blog]

Update: first day my stitches don't hurt! But there's a ton of bandaid goop around them. Any tips on getting it off?

[thelindemann-blog]

because nonny asked and I got the permission of my boss (hehe) here:

Great isn't it? ... God, I hate it.

[mamaluigi]

bleh the night was going perfectly fine but my cat Hermione hates me and I know. I was just hugging her and she latched on my face and blood was everywher aaaawdh. she like ripped my lip apart apparently? Ugh well long story short I cried for a long time because i had to get a shot but i guess it doesn't hurt that bad anymore now that i got stitches. I am going to walk around with a bandana on my mouth though. I might scare people around me :(