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blurredcolour · 3 months

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Born To Be Yours

[One-shot | Sequel to We'll Meet Again]

Eugene Roe x Nurse!Female Reader

Despite the end of the war in Europe, violence still finds its way to the men of Easy company. Thankfully, Eugene knows just where to find you to get them help.

Warnings: Language, Weapons, Canon Typical Violence, Smoking, Treatment of Wounds, Medical Procedures, Hospital Settings, Questionably Written Cajun Accent, Inevitable Historical and Military Inaccuracies, Mature/Explicit Themes [Kissing, Necking, Dry Humping] - 18+ ONLY

Author’s Note: Slight warning - the events of this fic are centered around the shooting of Sergeant Charles E Grant. The title of this fic is based off the song 'Yours' by Vera Lynn. For your reference, the Cajun pronunciation of cher, Eugene's term of endearment for the reader, is 'sha.' Just to help you really imagine it in your head. This is a work of fiction based off the portrayal by the actors in the HBO series. I hold nothing but respect for the real life individuals referenced within.

Word Count: 3887

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This kind of thing wasn’t supposed to be happening. Not here in Austria after the surrender of the German army. Not today, the anniversary of D-Day. And yet here Eugene sat, balanced over a stretcher bearing a motionless Grant, holding an IV of blood above his head as Speirs sped down the road toward Saalfelden where the 47th Field Hospital was set up on the edge of town. Talbert rode in the front seat, frequently glancing back at them over his shoulder.

It was a miracle Grant was still breathing after receiving the headwound, continued to breathe through the frantic bandaging and loading onto Speirs’ jeep.

“Where’s the nearest surgeon?” The Captain had barked and Gene had answered easily, known it immediately, because the nearest surgeon was with you.

After parting ways in Titz, following that very eventful Easter Sunday, your hospital had stayed precisely where it was intended to be – twenty-five kilometers behind the line as they advanced across Germany. You had surprised Eugene by sending your next letter not by post, but in the pocket of an ambulance driver who had been all too happy to receive a pack of smokes from you for his trouble. Your ingenuity had opened his eyes, and he’d sent his own reply back two days later, postage paid with chocolate from his rations.

Being able to write one another without the censors having a say, to share every detail of your daily lives without fear of the letter going missing – as long as you each chose a trustworthy deliveryman of course – was a relief after all the delays in communication the pair of you had previously endured. Eugene was admittedly disheartened when he learned that your station in Austria would be in Saalfelden with the majority of the 101st Airborne while Easy and the rest of 2nd Battalion found themselves a further seventeen kilometers down the road in Zell Am See.

There remained a remarkable number of things for him to do, and the lack of ambulance traffic, while a blessing, severely impeded your correspondence once more. In short, Eugene was feeling awfully guilty about the fact that he had not managed to visit you since the war in Europe had ended. As the jeep pulled up outside the requisitioned gymnasium that had been turned into the 47th Field Hospital, he was not certain if he hoped you were there or not.

He jumped off the back of the vehicle as Speirs and Talbert grabbed each end of the stretcher and the three of them rushed toward the building. Eugene hurried a few steps ahead to pull the door open, wincing a little as Speirs shouldered it open fully, sending into the wall with a ‘bang.’ There was a scurry of footsteps from down a hallway to the right before you stepped into view, clad in your white and brown striped hospital dress, a brown cardigan over top with the sleeves pushed up to your elbows. Concern etched your features.

“Follow me.” You said quickly, rushing to pull open the next door into the gymnasium itself. “On the table right there please, sir.” You gestured to a makeshift exam table built of filing cabinets and a cot.

“Chief Nurse?” A young woman poked her head out from behind a privacy screen and Eugene nearly tripped over his own feet.

Last he’d heard you were Assistant Chief Nurse, promoted after your natural leadership of the group of nurses during your nine hours of capture. You’d gone and gotten yourself promoted again. He fought the urge to grin at you proudly as they carefully set Grant down as instructed.

“Shirley, go fetch Dr. Brock from his office immediately.”

“We need a surgeon.” Speirs rasped and Eugene watched the girl halt her progress across the room and look back to you questioningly.

“Dr. Randall then, quickly.” You amended, shifting to begin triage on the patient by checking his vitals as Speirs took Grant’s hand in his tightly.

Shirley fled the room, returning in less than a minute with a dark-haired man wearing a white coat in tow – surely Dr. Randall. A cigarette hung for his lips as he looked to Eugene for the hand off.

“Shot in the head with a pistol, maybe twenty minutes ago? Bandaged and given blood by IV.”

He saw Shirley hand you a chart out of the corner of his eye and you quickly noted these things along with the vitals you’d been taking when the surgeon had walked in. Dr. Randall leaned down to lift the bandages, inspecting Grant’s wound.

“Jesus.” He muttered.

“What?” Speirs asked, looking to him quickly.

“He’s not gonna make it.” Dr. Randall said, taking a slow drag on his cigarette.

“Ya can’t operate on him?” Eugene asked incredulously. This man was a surgeon, this was his job.

“Not me. You’d need a brain surgeon. And even if you had one, I don’t think there’s any hope.” Dr. Randall rubbed at his eyes, obviously just as worn out from the endless number of casualties he’d born witness to, before walking off.

Eugene’s eyes slid to meet yours where you remained next to the spot recently vacated by Dr. Randall; felt his throat clench painfully at the look of deep sympathy you were sending him.

Speirs took a breath and turned to Talbert, breaking the stunned silence that had fallen over the group. “You find the shooter, I want him alive.” He pointed at him for emphasis before turning back to Eugene. “Come on help me.”

“What’re you doing?” Talbert asked, grabbing the end of the stretcher.

“We’re gonna go find a brain surgeon!” Speirs declared before they were off and running back towards the door.

“There’s a German hospital further into town, follow this road for five blocks then hang a left.” You spoke quickly, hurrying to hold open the doors to ease their progress back to the jeep.

“Thank ya, Ma’am.” Eugene nodded quickly, ducking slightly as it had begun to lightly rain while they were inside.

“Take care.” Your voice shook a little and Eugene looked back to you once he’d resumed his perch on the back of the jeep, watching you wrap your cardigan tighter around yourself as you stood in the rain, staring at him intently until the vehicle jerked into motion as Speirs took off in the direction you had instructed.

The hospital was easy enough to find, thanks to your directions, and Talbert secured another jeep there to carry out Speirs’ orders to find the shooter. The brain surgeon was not currently on duty, but Speirs was undeterred and demanded his home address, from which he fetched him out of bed to operate immediately.

“It will take several hours.” The German surgeon had warned them when Speirs had asked where the waiting room was.

“We’ll wait.” He had replied flatly, and Eugene had followed after him as a nurse led them into an empty room filled with worn chairs and a few side tables with outdated German periodicals.

Eugene watched Speirs sink into one of the chairs while he found himself unable to sit down, wandering the perimeter of the room quietly, mind turning over all manner of things, but always coming back to how reluctant you had looked to see him go. The guilt within him had multiplied astronomically – he had been a fool to not rush to see you the instant he could, and now your first interaction since Easter was purely professional and surely terrifying. Precisely why he had been so very reluctant to admit his feelings to you in the first place.

“Doc, if you’re not going to sit down, go talk to that pretty Chief Nurse, would you?” He muttered, pulling the garrison cap from his hair.

Eugene’s head whipped up to look at his commanding officer in shock. Shock at the fact that Speirs had had the wherewithal to notice the looks you had been exchanging over Grant’s prone form. Shock that he was allowing him the liberty to visit you. Pure shock.

“Otherwise, it’s going to be a very long couple of hours.” There was a dangerous edge to the man’s voice that made Eugene swallow nervously and nod sharply.

“Yes sir, I’ll be back in a few hou’s then, sir.” He moved to slip out of the waiting room.

“Be careful out there, Doc.” Came Speirs’ parting command and Eugene nodded once more before heading out into the street, thankful that the blackout was no longer in effect and he had the assistance of streetlights to retrace his steps back to the Field Hospital.

He made a much quieter entrance this time, finding the nurse, Shirley, at the desk near the door in the gym.

“Oh, you’re the medic from earlier – how is your man?” She asked in a hushed voice as she stood.

“In surgery with a German brain surgeon now…I was wonderin’ if I migh’ speak ta you’ Chief Nurse?” He tilted his head, and she nodded quickly leading him down the hall to an unassuming office door.

“She’s still here, working late again.” She laughed softly and knocked.

“Thank ya, Ma’am.” He nodded as she nodded in return before heading back into the gym as your door swung inward.

“Gene…” You breathed in surprise, peering into the hallway as if to confirm he was truly alone.

“Cher…” He murmured in response, tremor in his own voice this time, and your fingers wrapped around his wrist, pulling him into the moderately sized office.

Your arms pulled him into a tight embrace as you nudged the door shut with your foot. He buried his face into your hair, fingers curling into the knit of your cardigan against your back.

“I’m right here, Gene.” You sighed soothingly, arms holding him so tightly, so warmly, Eugene was convinced you might actually be able to fuse his broken pieces back together. To make him feel whole again.

“Merci, cher.” He managed to find his voice after a moment, pulling back slightly only to press his lips to yours tightly in a physical expression of his gratitude.

Eugene felt the tremble that rolled through your body in response, his hands gripping you tighter as your fingers wended their way into his hair making him shudder in return. There was something about your touch tonight that felt like he was playing with fire, your entire presence loaded with explosive charge that could set him off at any moment. He pulled his lips back quickly before he did something wildly inappropriate in your office and panted against your mouth.

“M’sorry I haven’ come ta visit ya.”

Your response was a breathless laugh that made him bite the inside of his cheek.

“I’ve barely left this office. I’m beginning to think this promotion was a curse disguised as a blessing.” You smirked and stole one more kiss from his lips before straightening to look over his face warmly.

“It’s late, and I know ya don’ work nigh’s no mo’e…” He tried to keep the admonishing tone in his voice light, but he was admittedly upset you were working after midnight, something that even he was aware was unusual for a Chief Nurse.

“You know too much, Gene.” Your fingers smoothed his hair gently, restoring order to the strands you had put into disarray, a fond smile stretching his lips as he truly adored hearing you call him ‘Gene.’

His heart had nearly stopped when it had appeared in your letters but to hear it leave your lips was heaven itself.

“Let me walk ya home, tha man who did tha’ is still out the’e.”

He watched your eyes widen before you frowned deeply, shaking your head in dismay. “Did you find the hospital?”

“German brain surgeon’s operatin’ now…”

You took a slow breath before nodding. “I usually have an MP escort me, are you sure you don’t have to get back?”

He shook his head. “Grant’ll be in surgery a few hou’s longah. Cap’n Speirs won’ leave ‘till it’s ovah. Told me ta ‘go talk to that pretty Chief Nurse’ if I wouldn’t sit still.” Gene smirked ruefully and you blinked rapidly before biting your lip.

“Perhaps we have not been nearly as subtle as we thought, Gene…”

He laughed softly under his breath as he watched you turn to collect your things, sliding a small utility bag over your shoulder before turning out the desk light. The desk itself was still covered in stacks of files and he couldn’t help but frown as it seemed that your late nights had barely made a dent in the work your new position had foisted upon you.

“Wait here.” You said once you’d locked your office door and walked a little further down the hall to knock on another door.

He could barely make out another man’s voice, it didn’t sound like Dr. Randall, so presumably Dr. Brock, before you swung by the desk in the gymnasium to wish Shirley a good night. One last stop at the MP office to the left of the entrance where you informed your usual escort you had someone to walk you home before the pair of you were able to step out into the damp night. Thankfully, the rain had stopped falling but the puddles on the ground were plentiful as Eugene offered his arm. He could not help his fond smile as you took it without hesitation, hugging his elbow close as you walked side-by-side.

“I’m quite close to the hospital actually.” You gestured down the road and he nodded, turning that way.

“Tha’s how ya knew…”

Your soft laugh made his stomach quiver slightly though he did not miss the yawn you tried to smother.

“Ya been workin’ late a lot, cher?” He prompted softly, vigilant to your surroundings but so far, the streets were quiet.

“Mm.” You nodded slowly before sighing. “Seems the Chief Nurse before me was not such a fan of paperwork. Maude was a fantastic leader, we’re lucky to have her as the Assistant Director of Austria base, but if I had known what was awaiting me in that office…well I’d probably have asked to help her more when I was her assistant.”

He felt you tug on his arm and looked down to you quickly to see you pointing across the street to a modest apartment building.

“We’re quartered here.”

Eugene nodded and led you across the street as you fished for the keys in your bag. He couldn’t help but notice that you were in fact only a few blocks from the German hospital where Grant was still undergoing surgery. He said another silent prayer to guide the hands of the surgeon to success as you led him up to the building entrance.

A pair of sharp cries cut through the night, making the both of you freeze briefly.

“Hey!”

“Stop right there!”

The voices were still a block or so away, but belonged to men that Eugene knew a well as his own family.

“Inside cher, now.” He said quickly, pulling you toward the building.

“Second floor.” You uttered quickly and he pushed you up the stairs front of him, hands on your hips as he could hear the voices of Talbert and Malarkey growing closer, accompanied by footsteps splashing through puddles and the rumble of a jeep engine close behind.

You stopped at an apartment door and Eugene noted your struggle to line the key with the deadbolt, gently but firmly taking it from you to unlock the door and push you inside. He was quick to close and lock the door behind him, wanting you nowhere near the drunken madman who had already killed at least two people tonight. He heard you take a breath as you turned back toward him and he gently covered your mouth with his palm, shushing you softly as he listened for further noises from the street below.

They sounded as if they were right outside, their voices rising up through the stairwell as his wide eyes bored directly into yours.

“Yeah, that’s him!”

“Get in the jeep you son of a bitch.”

The sound of the engine faded off into the night and Eugene waited a full minute before lowering his hand from your mouth, the only sound remaining being the pounding of his heart in his ears. He heard you suck in a breath, the only warning he was afforded before your lips collided with his. He stumbled slightly, startled a moment, before the adrenaline in his veins was transformed into white hot desire. His hands clutched at your lower back, pulling you tightly against him as he blindly stumbled toward the doorway he had glimpsed upon entering your apartment.

He felt your body impact with something behind you and pulled back from your lips quickly to see he had backed you into the kitchen table. He felt you rise up onto your toes, seemingly intent on sitting on the tabletop and his hands quickly seized your hips, aiding you in your efforts by hoisting you the last bit of distance. He could not help the smirk that graced his features as you gasped at his strength; hard-won through years of training and carrying wounded from the battlefield. His mouth quickly returned to yours, shuddering as your tongue met his eagerly, your fingers once more burrowing into his hair.

Eugene’s lungs began to ache from a lack of oxygen and he reluctantly pulled back from your lips only to begin trailing open-mouthed kisses along your jaw and down your throat. Your shaky exhale filled his ears as your fingers began to tug at the buttons of his OD jacket, sending his own in search of the same on your cardigan. As he pushed the fabric out of the way, he slid his hands along your sides, sucking at the hollow of your throat, exhaling hotly against your skin as you parted your legs for him.

“Cher…” He rasped against your skin, gulping at the whimper that fell from your lips as he stepped closer, nestling between your thighs.

Your body felt so hot against him, even through his ODs and wool trousers, he was helpless not to press as tightly to you as possible, not even leaving a hairsbreadth of space. Your fingers curled into the front of his wool shirt, hips bucking against his slightly as you whimpered again.

“Gene!” Your gasped and he kissed you fiercely as his lower abdomen grew heavy with arousal, blood rushing to his already hardening length as he rutted against you obligingly.

The moan that rattled from your throat into his mouth had his head swimming, his baser instincts immediately taking over, demanding he do anything and everything to draw that sound from you again and again. His hands shifted to grip your thighs, pulling your body even tighter to his as he continued to move against you, delighting in your repeated cries of pleasure which he devoured hungrily. He barely noticed your persistence against the buttons of his uniform shirt until he felt your hands sliding around his torso with only the thin barrier of his undershirt separating your skin, a groan falling from his lips as he tore them from yours.

“Merde.” He hissed, screwing his eyes shut against the salaciously delicious friction between your bodies.

“Mm! I know that one…” You giggled breathily against his neck before your lips were on his skin, making his hips rock sharply against yours.

“Feel so good, cher.” He groaned again, hands shifting beneath the hem of your dress, beneath the hem of your slip, to find the bare skin of your thighs. Quite possibly the softest thing he’d ever touched.

“Yes, Gene.” You whined against his kiss-dampened skin. “Don’t stop.”

He grunted in agreement, fingers tracing higher to grip your hips, increasing the friction yet again as he rutted his fully hard cock against your underwear. The moan that fell from your lips contained an almost anguished tone and he had to grit his teeth against the desire to climax at just the sound of it. Your fingers were digging into his back through the cotton of his undershirt, hips echoing every motion of his as his fingers delved past the edge of your underwear to curl into the soft flesh of your buttocks.

“Oh god Gene I’m…” You panted, head rolling back, and he nodded vigorously, eyes latching onto your face, desperate to watch you fall apart in his arms.

Eugene had long been convinced that you could do everything with grace, and you once again proved his assumption correct as your eyelashes fluttered against your cheeks, your mouth falling open to emit a soft wail of pure ecstasy. Burying his face against your neck, he cursed harshly as his hips bucked sharply, all sense of rhythm and control abandoning him as his orgasm immediately overtook him. Sliding one hand out from beneath your skirt to brace against the table lest he collapse onto you, he smiled sheepishly as you grinned up at him, your lower lip caught beneath your teeth.

“Sorry, Gene…” You murmured, running your hands along his back soothingly, your chests brushing against one another as you both struggled to catch your breath.

He shook his head quickly and then tensed. “Do ya….are ya the only one billeted in he’e?” He glanced back toward the hallway, suddenly aware of how much noise the pair of you had made.

Your bright peal of laughter caught his attention, and he turned back to you quickly.

“You ask me that now, Gene?!” You teased, gripping the back his neck to pull him down for a lazy kiss as he huffed a laugh against your lips in reply. “No, just me. Chief Nurse perk.”

He relaxed with a nod, straightening slowly as his legs finally felt like solid muscle and bone once more.

“The washroom is just down the hall if you wa–”

“Be my wife.” The words fell out of his mouth before he could stop them.

He had intended to make more of a spectacle of it. Hell, he had intended to have a ring to put on your finger. But the way you were looking up at him now with glossy eyes still hazy with pleasure, crinkled at the corners as you smiled his favorite smile to date – he was helpless to hold them back.

Eugene held his breath as he watched your eyes widen, your mouth drop open, as his unexpected statement hung in the air.

“Are you…proposing to me Eugene Roe?” You exhaled and he gulped roughly.

“I understand if ya don’ wanna marry me, I still have ta go ta tha Pacific an’…”

“How could I say no, Gene, when I was born to be yours.” You eyed him softly but there was something about your words, and the way your lips were twitching with mirth, that tugged at the back of his brain.

“Cher are ya quotin’ Vera Lynn again?” He huffed and grimaced playfully at your answering laugh, yet felt his heart begin to beat double time as your hands cupped his cheeks and your expression grew serious.

“Eugene Roe, I would love to be your wife.” You nodded firmly and sealed your acceptance with a firm kiss that made his heart soar.

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Band of Brothers Masterlist

Tag list: @ronsparky, @fuckoffthanos, @bcon24, @phyllisthefirst, @footprintsinthesxnd, @she-wolf09231982

#eugene roe x reader #eugene roe imagine #eugene roe imagines #band of brothers x reader #band of brothers imagines #band of brothers imagine #hbo war fanfic #hbo war fic #eugene roe #band of brothers

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keys-hellscape-1020 · 1 year

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You get captured

You get captured by the enemy, you don’t know where you are, or who you’ve even been captured by. Your boys better hurry up and come get you because time is ticking fast.

Platonic!141st x medic!reader

Warning: Angst, hurt/comfort, canon typical violence, heavy mentions of physical assault, being tied up against ones will, kidnapping, gore, mentions of death and dying, cussing, medical inaccuracies, military inaccuracies.

This was not how you were expecting this mission to go, to put it lightly.

Your head pounded, the pain raidiating through your skull, making you feel as though you were a rung bell. You peeled your eyes open, glancing around. You were in a dark, damp cell made of stone. The only light was from an old, flickering lamp that gently swung on a chain in the middle of the room. The door on the other side of the room from you was a large heavy looking thing. The only signs it was a door at all were the hinges on the side, and the small, barred window near the top of it. There was no handle facing into the room.

You struggled to piece together the memories of how you got here. You vaguely recalled rushing along an alley way, trying to meet up with your team mates, when you felt a hard *smack* to the back of your skull.

Ah that’s right. You’ve been captured. Those fuckers.

As your memories started to return you could feel your panic at the situation start to rise before you willed yourself to focus. Don’t give them the pleasure of a reaction, there will be time for that later. Focus.

Observing your surroundings you noticed that you were sat on a cold metal chair which your arms and ankles were tightly tied to with a rope. You pulled on your restraints, trying to see if there was any way you could gain an advantage in your situation, but the restraints were tight, and you could feel rope burn developing already.

Suddenly you heard a loud THUD outside of the door, and there was the small sound of metal hitting metal over and over again. Then the door was pushed open, the stone on the bottom of the door dragged across the stone floor with a horrible screech, forcing you to attempt to conceal a wince.

Out from behind the door came a shriveled looking man. If you had to guess he was about 5’6. He had pasty, greasy skin and looked under weight, although it was hard to tell due to the fact he wore a black suit a size to big for him. He wore no shirt under it, revealing his flabby chest. His facial features looked sunken in, yet somehow at the same time engorged from all the excess skin that hung at the edges of his face. He was clean shaven, with a large bald spot bordered by thin wire-like white hair that was coated in grease. He was closely followed by two large men on either side of him. If you had to guess they were the size of Ghost, if not bigger, but it was hard to get a good read between the fact that they were covered in tactical gear and the poor lighting in the room.

The slimy man slunk forward, approaching you with a sneer that pulled up the flaps of skin on his jaw unnaturally, his two body guards followed closely behind him, starting straight ahead, unbothered about the fact that the light hanging from the ceiling brushed the top of their heads.

“How are you feeling?” The greasy man crackled, putting his face far to close to yours, his breath stunk of rotten fish, and his teeth were yellow and more stumps then anything else.

You did not give him the pleasure of a response, only staring straight back into his shark like eyes. It would take much more than bad breath to make you break.

“I really am so sorry about this.” he began, placing a hand on your shoulder and walking around you. You swore that you could feel his hand leave a trail of slime as it passed along your shoulders and the back of your neck.

He stopped in front of you once more. “I just have a few questions. I’m sure you understand how this… business goes?” He asked.

“Who are you?” You asked, willing your back to remain straight and constantly reminding yourself to maintain eye contact. Don’t give him the pleasure of a reaction.

His sneer, which has been consistent up until now, faded at that. Instead it was replaced with a stomach curling smile.

“Oh? Oh oh oh, come on now!” He cackled, his eyes almost seeming to bulge from his skull. “That’s not important!”

“What is important,” his voice dropped into a sudden whisper, the smile dropping from his face in an instant, “is where those documents your friends found are. So, care to share?”

You kept your face neutral, projecting what you could only hope was a display of perfect calm, as you leaned forward to look him right in his beady eyes. “Go fuck yourself.”

His skin started to stretch and bulge again as his mouth pulled up in to a smile and he erupted in giggles that sounded almost like radio static. Seriously what is wrong with this guys voice?

“I was hoping you’d say that!” He yelped, the sound reminding you almost of a hyena. How they laugh when they’re hunting. How they derive joy from others pain.

“Have at em’ boys.” And with a final sickening smile in your direction he walked out of the room.

Your time here so far had been absolute hell. After that very first beating they tossed a bag over your head and dragged you to another room. This room was similar to the old one, except it had a flimsy cot in one corner and a bucket in the other. Not to mention it was far more filthy.

You could only assume these people operated on a 24 hour schedule, and if the lack of daylight hasn’t completely fucked up your sense of time yet you’d deduced that you’ve been here about a week.

Everyday was the same. You’d wake up on your flimsy cot, and have nothing to do for hours but contemplate when, if, you’d ever be saved. With each passing day that if was getting bigger and bigger.

A little after your daily crisis two large guards would enter your cell, restrain you with a bag over your head, and drag you to another room. Once there and secured by multiple pieces of rope the bag would be removed and you would be greeted by the horrible image of grease man and two of his goons.

He would ask you multiple questions, you wouldn’t answer, and thus he would leave his goons to beat you. Following that they would bring you back to your current residence.

Shortly after your daily beating two guards would enter your cell. One would point a gun at your head while the other would set down a tray of food, if you could call it that, on the floor. The substance on the tray was simple, to put it nicely. A small cup of water, paired with a small stale bread roll, and maybe half a cup of some kind of strange, greasy vegetable mush. Is this what made the guy who was obviously in charge so greasy? You hoped you wouldn’t stay long enough to find out.

And thus that was your routine today. You sat on your cot after your tray was collected by the guards. You could feel the festering wounds on your ribs, given to you the first day you got here. The pus in them told you they were getting infected. God you hoped your boys found you soon. What the fuck were they doing?

You shifted on your cot, taking inventory of your most recent injuries. You had multiple bruises on your face, and you feared you had a concussion, as when you stood up the world spun and you felt weak. Although that could very well be because you were being given practically no food or water. You also could barely walk, you suspected a broken knee the cause.

Your clothes were absolutely filthy and you are sure you smell like shit. You’ve been left in a tank top and cargo pants. Everything else had been taken when you’d gotten captured. Including your socks and shoes, to prevent you from getting far if you ran you suspect.

And then, unexpectedly, a large guard burst into your cell and stood in front of you, aiming a gun at your head. You leaned back on your cot, calming observing him as two more men hurriedly came into your cell, one of them being the slimy man in charge.

“You are going on a little trip.” He growled, anxiously glancing over his shoulder at the guard behind him.

You kept your vision on the guards gun that was in front of your forehead despite the spark of excitement in your gut. Don’t give them the pleasure of a reaction. “Nice gun.” You quipped, trying to mask your feelings.

The guard evidently did not appreciate your compliment as he yanked you up onto your feet, causing you to wince as your knee screamed at you, and he roughly tugged your arms behind your back and secured them with a zip tie. The other guard quickly approached you and tugged a bag over your head.

There would only be one reason they would move you on such obviously short notice. Someone was raiding their base. It might be your boys coming for you or it might be someone else and they’re taking precautions. Either way you had to treat it like the latter, this could very well be your only opportunity to escape.

You struggled to orient yourself as you were dragged through the complex. You tried your best to note corners and the sounds around you but you were being dragged more than you were walking and you could barely force yourself to stay conscious.

As you turned another corner you heard a loud bang of metal hitting something. A door opening? You were dragged forward and felt sunlight on your skin, you never thought that you would miss that feeling so much.

Just as you were basking in actually being outside you heard the loud screech of a plane overhead, and then the whistle of bombs being dropped. Fuck.

You heard the guards yell something, they pulled and pushed but you couldn’t tell what was happening, and then, all at once, an impact.

You flew back, your travel stopped by violently crashing into something. A wall? You could feel intense heat in front of your still covered face, it was almost painful. You knew that you had to move, now, but your knee was screaming at you from you putting your weight on it and your ribs hurt worse than ever. It would be fine to just take a little nap right? At least you would die in the sunshine.

You were startled out of your nap by someone roughly throwing you over their shoulder, causing you to let out a pained grunt.

“Sorry Stitch but we have got to move!”

Wait a minute you know that voice. Don’t you? You at least recognize that name, there isn’t many people who call you that.

The person was running, you could recognize that at least by how much they were moving, every time their shoulder moved it jostled your ribs causing you to let out a pained groan.

After what felt like a century they slid to stop, shrugging you off their shoulder and placing you against a wall. They yelled something you couldn’t make out and then the bag was off your head and you could see again.

Hovering in front of you with his brows furrowed in concern was Price. He reached behind you to quickly free your arms.

“Stitch! Are you alright?” You heard someone yell over the sound of gunfire. Turning your head you saw Soap next to you. You hadn’t even seen him there.

“Evac is in 1 minute! Hold position!”

Who said that? Price? Where did he go? He wasn’t in front of you anymore. You tried to will yourself to focus, being this out of it in an active war zone guaranteed death.

You attempted to ground yourself by taking stock of your surroundings. You’re on a roof, placed against a wall. Soap is on one side of you, peaking out from behind cover to fire at who you could only guess were your kidnappers. Price was on your other side in a similar situation, but where were Gaz and Ghost? Did they not come or are they just outside your line of sight? You hoped they were okay.

Your vision was swimming. How long had you been awake? It felt like forever. You leaned your head back against the wall. You could just rest for a moment couldn’t you? Your boys would wake you up.

You were stirred awake by your body being jostled side to side, and the loud sound of wind rushing past. You had to will yourself to wake up, were your boys alright? You could never live with yourself if they got hurt retrieving you.

You slowly peeled your eyes open, and your suspicions were immediately confirmed, you were in a heli.

“SITCH.” And with a call of your name someone’s arms were wrapped tightly around you, causing you to yelp in pain as they constricted your ribs.

“Let up Soap!” You heard a raspy voice bark from the other side of the Heli, causing you to lift your head to look at them. You were met with Price, who was looking at you with obvious concern. You never thought you would be so happy to see his horrible, horrible, hat.

Soap pulled back to hold onto your shoulders, being much more gentle now but still keeping a firm grip.

“Scared the shit out of me Stitch.” He admitted, raising his voice to be heard over the Heli. Despite his loud volume the look in his eyes told you that he had nothing but soft intentions.

You rocked forward to tackle him in a hug, which he immediately returned, taking care to be far more gentle this time. Gosh you missed him.

Pulling yourself partly away from him you called out, “Is anyone hurt?” Only hoping your voice was able to carry over the sounds of the heli.

Gaz leaned over from where he was sitting on your other side to put a hand on your shoulder. “We’re all fine Stitch, worry about yourself for once!”

“What he said!” Price called out, giving you a pointed look that clearly said “Rest for once in your life or I’ll make you.” Ghost simply nodded his head, but you could tell he was questioning your sanity at being help captive for a week and the first thing you ask them is if they’re all alright.

“We are landing!” You heard from the front of the heli. Nik? You never thought you would be so happy to hear him.

As the heli cruised down to the base you saw a stretcher and medical personnel waiting, one of your boys must have called in your injuries.

The heli landed and your boys systematically got out until it was just you and Ghost left. You attempted to stand to get out but started falling over as soon as you got your legs underneath you.

Before you could hit the ground Ghost quickly wrapped one arm, with a gentleness you did not know he possessed, around your waist. He brought your other arm around his shoulders and gently and slowly helped you walk. He let you limp along, yet he was still supporting most of your weight, he knew he would at least want to walk out on his own two feet if he had just survived a week of torture. You deserved the same respect.

And so he helped you make your way slowly out of the helicopter, and assisted you in sitting down on the stretcher as the rest of your boys watched. As the medical personnel rolled you away you gave one final wave towards your boys. You couldn’t thank them enough for this.

You were getting increasingly anxious to see your boys.

It had only been about 6 hours since you were brought in, and you are sure that if they had been allowed to they would’ve come in already, but doctors and nurses were still anxiously fluttering around you, although thankfully the scans and blood tests were slowing down to a stop at last.

You were in a hospital bed, the smell of antiseptic was comforting and reminded you of home. It reminded you of long hours in the medical bay tending to your boys stupid injuries, yelling at them for not taking care of themselves, what you would give to go back to them right now.

You were roused out of your daze by a sound coming from the other room, the lobby? It was hard to tell where it was coming from.

The doors flew open, (unsurprisingly, you really needed to teach them how to open doors normally) and Price came stomping in.

“It has been 6 bloody hours! I want to see them damnit!”

“Captain I know your upset but we’re running tests, please step outside.” Said a nurse who quickly came up to try and push him back outside.

“Price!” You croaked, your voice was shot to hell and back due to all the smoke you had inhaled earlier.

He immediately rushed over to your side and gently brought you into a warm hug, you could feel his shoulders shaking slightly, was he crying?

“Kid I am so fucking sorry. This never should’ve happened on my watch.” He said sternly as he pulled back to look you in the eyes. Contrary to what you suspected he wasn’t actually crying, but his face was getting more and more red by the second and he was shaking fiercely.

You pulled him back into a hug, (on a list of things you missed, Price’s hugs definitely make top 10).

“Don’t say that. You did everything you could, it was my own fault that I got captured.” You said, attempting to soothe him.

He pulled back once again, and you had to suppress a whine as his heat and comfort left you. Let me hug you damnit old man!

“No. It is no one’s fault but the bastard who captured you. Roger?” He asked strictly, looking you dead in the eyes.

“Check Captain.” you said, your eyes filling up with tears. You missed him, you missed this, so much.

Your emotional moment was interrupted by someone clearing their throat, causing you to turn your head.

There stood the rest of your boys in all their glory. Their presence was not helping your emotional state as once you caught sight of them the tears started flooding out of your eyes like a waterfall.

Gaz and Soap immediately sprung into action, both of them leaping forward to wrap you in a hug as gently as they could. Price fell back to let them comfort you but kept a hand on your shin the whole time to remind you he was there. Ghost didn’t join in on the hug but he was rubbing gentle circles on your back, his presence was quite but his intentions could never be lost on you.

You had a long, long road of recovery ahead of you, there was absolutely no denying that, but with your boys by your side you have no doubt that you’ll make it.

Just after one more question.

“Hey guys, which one of you ordered those bombs dropped on my head?”

Silence.

“OHHHHH would you look at the time? Ghost don’t cha’ remember we have that uhhh meeting! Yeah a meeting!”

“At midnight Soap?” You asked, completely deadpan.

“Yep! Y’know those people in charge! No sense of time! Come on Ghost!” And with that your local Scotsman ran from the room with his tail between his legs, Ghost following behind with a sigh.

“I’m gonna kill that fucker the moment I can walk again.”

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thebeanofdoom · 3 months

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Fanfic recommendation time!

I know its way past Christmas already but I found this fanfic while scrolling through AO3 and oh my God, even though its "only" 13 chapters, it felt like an entire novel! I love how you could slowly see Soap and Ghost falling for each other, even if the two didn't notice yet. Do prepare some tissues for the last chapter though ｡･(つд`｡)･｡ (also, featuring SimonRiley'sFatherFigure!Price and JohnMacTavish'sBestFriend!Gaz)

Rating: General Audiences

Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: Gen, M/M

Fandom: Call of Duty (Video Games)

Relationship: John "Soap" MacTavish/Simon "Ghost" Riley

Characters: John "Soap" MacTavish, Simon "Ghost" Riley, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, John Price (Call of Duty), Kate Laswell, Original Male Character(s), Original Female Character(s)

Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Aftermath of Torture, Injury Recovery, Fluff and Angst, Domestic Fluff, Canon-Typical Violence, No Smut, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Nightmares, Christmas Fluff, Christmas, Angst with a Happy Ending, Religious Guilt, it’s happy ending i swear, Soft Simon "Ghost" Riley, Simon "Ghost" Riley Loves John "Soap" MacTavish, John "Soap" MacTavish Loves Simon "Ghost" Riley, tagging is KILLIMG me will update l8er, Internalized Homophobia, Getting Together, see individual chapters for content warnings!, Medical Inaccuracies

Language: English

"There was only so much you could do to a dead man, you see, before he became more of a liability than an advantage. In theory, the idea of not killing Ghost— of keeping him alive, taking him back to the base and torturing all the information they could get out of him was a good one. However, in practice, the issue became more complicated.

Or— Ghost is sent home to recover after being victim to cartel torture, and then Soap shows up."

Side note: there will be added warnings in the notes of the fanfic, so be sure to check those out if mentions of s*xual abuse/r*pe are a trigger for you!

#call of duty #call of duty modern warfare 2 #ghost call of duty #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #captain john price #kyle gaz garrick #soap x ghost #fanfic recommendation #fanfic #call of duty modern warfare #john price #soap #soap call of duty #ghost #soapghost #ghostsoap

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ao3feed-brucewayne · 3 months

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a robin is red (red is all I ever see)

by fly_to_mars Tim Drake wasn’t a particularly big portion of anyone’s life. But you know who is? Robin. He’s going to find Gotham’s best hero if it kills him. It just might. OR you’ve heard of Brucequest. Now, get ready for... Jasonquest! Featuring: blood, facial recognition software, murder, bullets, a fuckton of cash, and some motherfucker who is most certainly not named Tasha. Words: 1420, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Fandoms: Batman - All Media Types Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death Categories: Gen Characters: Tim Drake, Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne, Talia al Ghul, Ra's al Ghul Relationships: Tim Drake & Jason Todd, Tim Drake & Talia al Ghul, Tim Drake & Ra's al Ghul Additional Tags: he’s just a silly little guy (he’s mentally unstable), Canon-Typical Violence, Minor Character Death, Kid Tim Drake, Bad Parents Jack and Janet Drake, Tim Drake Joins the Batfamily Early, Medical Inaccuracies, he might kill a few guys idk I haven’t decided via https://ift.tt/Hg6AcUO

#IFTTT #bruce wayne #batman #the dark knight #the caped crusader #gotham #dcu #dc #ao3 #ao3feed

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triplesilverstar · 4 months

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Morning Chaos? With Vash, it's just another Tuesday

Rating: 18+ Minors DNI

Pairing: Vash X F!Reader

CW: Canon typical violence, threat of rape, drinking, death, implied character death, choking, mental breakdowns, medical inaccuracies

Word count: Roughly 2.7K wordsA/N: Part 25 of the series. Chapter four of A return to Jeneora Rock, time for a bit of chaos with Vash but honestly what did you expect?

The next morning finds you and Vash waking up and checking your legs, all that's left of the damage from yesterday along your legs are a few patches of gray. “Well, I’ll be tender but I can run on them.” He’s nodding at your words, both of you getting ready for the day and making sure all your belongings are secure in your bags, which you plan to leave in the room for now. No reason to bring them with you if you both misread something last night. “So, who's leaving the room first?”

“Honestly, Mayfly I don’t think it’s going to make much of a difference” Vash is shrugging his shoulders at you “What are the chances the reporters are going to see us walking out together?” You just stare at him with an eyebrow raised and your arms crossed, there are some days you really have to wonder if lady luck has discarded you like she did him. Standing beside the door he motions you closer, and you comply at the smile he has on his features leaning down slightly to peck your forehead “We’ll be fine Mayfly.”

“Fine, but before we go” hands digging around his pockets and checking for ammunition to make sure there is no chance of a repeat of yesterday, the JuLai military police haven’t left yet and you really don’t trust them not to try something again. A final pat of his pockets and you smile back up at him “guess we’re good to go” while he shakes his head at your caution. Opening the door and stepping out, you send Vash a look because right in the middle of the hallway is Meryl clearly chances were pretty high.

“Oh good morning you two” she doesn’t seem all that interested in both of you having stepped from the same room or maybe she’s just assuming you didn’t spend the night together “when can we get started on that interview?” Glancing between both of you, you raise an eyebrow at her. You don’t have to say anything as Vash answers for you both.

“We were heading to grab breakfast first, then to see if the JuLai military police are still here or not. How about after that we meet at the diner?” Meryl seems to be nodding along, explaining how her and Roberto just got back from picking up their truck which had been broken down before you part ways heading for the diner. As you walk you feel a general sense of unease in your bones, like you’re being watched and the entire town is on edge but nothing happens as you step into the diner and approach the bar where Rosa is already working.

“Surprised to see you two up already” she’s got a shit eating grin on her face that you aren’t a fan of, or the sense of something simmering just beneath the surface that feels wrong. “Figured you’d both be in bed till noon, getting reacquainted with one another” in true Vash fashion he goes crimson, a squeak passing his lips while you scowl.

“Laugh it up Rosa. We’re not two teenagers” unlike yesterday there are a few stools sitting around and you grab two to bring over so you and the blond can sit at the bar.

“That’s not what it looked like yesterday” her eyebrows are drawn, smirk still on her face and if there was anymore then the three of you in the diner you might have been angrier with her. The light teasing only really affecting Vash who’s got that signature sheepish look on his face again. “Trying to hide hand holding of all things.”

“Yea well, it’s not really a lot of peoples business that we’re together” you’re staring hard at her, trying to convey that while you have no issue with the teasing you sure as hell don’t want it getting around. “So what’s on the menu for breakfast?” Deflecting any more comments about your relationship, Vash settles onto the stool next to you, and while waiting the three of you share a bit of easy conversation about what’s happened since your last visit. Food finished you find yourself turning to Vash “So what’s the plan? Head for the sheriff's office?”

He’s nodding his assent “Yea, that’s a good place to start Mayfly” at his words a giggle erupts from the diner owner that’s clearing your plates, drawing both of your attention.

“Mayfly?” Ears turning red and eyes wide you stare while she’s trying to hold in giggles “you two are adorable” promptly standing you slam the required bills for your food on the bar top.

“Well thanks for the food” stalking out you hear more laughter behind you as your face starts to burn even more. Why did he have to say that name just now? As much as you love hearing it from his lips, there is a certain level of teasing you don’t need early in the morning. AKA having someone hear Vash call you by his favorite pet name. You pick up the sound of him apologizing for you taking off, before hurried footsteps reach your ears and the blond is walking beside you.

“Well that was sudden. At least now I know how I can get you to leave somewhere quickly” you can’t find it in yourself to be mad at him, seeing as you get a kick out of his embarrassment all the time. “Also, we’re going the wrong way if we’re heading to the sheriff's office.” Somewhere you’re certain, some force in the universe is laughing at you.

“Lead the way Vash” hands tucked in your pockets following after him soon finds you both at the sheriff's office and walking behind the departing JuLai military police, who have decided to leave without waiting for their captain to wake up. Being the kind of person you are, you make sure to give a cheery wave to the soldier that yesterday had threatened you. Following them to the town entrance you notice Meryl and Roberto both standing by what you assume to be their truck, watching as the party of four departed on the three Toma they had arrived with, their captain essentially hog tied to one of the saddles.

You ignore the words being passed between the two reporters and Vash, noticing the flying worms all taking off which leaves an unsettled feeling in your gut, prior to yesterday you hadn’t seen any like that around town since your arrival. Hearing the word casino drags your attention back to Vash.

“You are not going to a Casino, you almost lost your hand last time” voice flat as you watch him flinch beside you before turning and starting to walk away, freezing at Roberto's words and swallowing hard. When Vash answers with his brother's name you feel your blood run cold, and you find your feet following him and the reporters back to the diner catching his eye and the depressed smile on his face. A brief nod, telling you he wants you with him for this, and as much as you’d rather go crawl in a hole then sit nearby during an interview it is for Vash. That feeling at the edge of your brain that something isn’t right is still there, and while it’s relatively early in the day there was a lot more movement the previous day around the same time. And the day before that. This time when you enter the diner you notice Rosa is nowhere to be found, one of the other girls that you’d learned over the past few days working instead. Odd. Regardless you take a seat with your back to the door, the last one at the table and next to Vash so you can’t come up with a valid reason to get Roberto to switch with you so your back is to the wall able to watch the two entrances.

Once in the seat, the dark haired girl manning the bar approached to ask if any of you wanted a drink and you have to give it to the older reporter. He takes no time in asking for whiskey and being shot down by Meryl, so he asked for beer which was delivered. The rest of you taking up the offer of coffee and the reporters get started, every attempt by Meryl to get an answer from you results in the same answer “No comment, Penny.” Every time her complexion going a shade darker and was hovering around a nice rose right now, and you noticed the light taps being given to your boots by the blond with his own feet. Far too soft to even irritate the tender muscle but enough to drive home the point that he thinks you’re being rude, and after last night you do need to try and be more friendly. At this point however it seems they’ve given up on trying to get you to speak, so you simply drink your coffee and pretend to follow their line of questions being put to the blond. In reality you’re listening to everything around the diner to the best of your ability, voices are lower, tones clipped, and the hackles on the back of your neck are certainly starting to rise.

At the edge of your hearing the radio is playing and you groan hearing the Nebraska family has escaped. No wonder you have such a dire view of the military and law enforcement if they can’t even keep a set of criminals like those two locked up, you know the radio has to mean Father Nebraska and Gosef for one single reason. You were the one that caught them three years and dropped them off in May city, well you and Vash, but the Nebraska family had only seen your face when you’d turned them over to the police there. It’d been an unplanned incident with yourself and Vash having been headed for a town and watched from a distance as the two were trying to rob the bank there, so two shock bullets fired and two bodies hit the dirt out cold. Your attention being drawn back to the table from your reminiscing when you heard Vash start to fake cry and drop his head against the table.

Sometimes your pretty plant man was just too dramatic for his own good, and right now you’d have liked to reach out and pat his head in a placating manner. A better distraction while the reporters are trying to come up with a motive for Knives stealing plants and destroying towns, and Vash staring at the table appears in the form of Tonis beside you with his net and worm cage.

“Will you come play with me?” You smile at the kid, mug placed on the table and ruffle his hair.

“Not today buddy, sorry about that” leaning his net against your leg before shoving the worms onto the table and pushing them towards Vash, making Meryl jump hiding behind her book. There must be something wrong with you, because you want to squeal at how cute you think she’s being. You watch the serious look on little Tonis’s face as he pushes the worms toward Vash and the smile that appears on both when the little red head starts getting head pats. The blond catches your eye, sending a smile your way with his eyes crinkling and the scene is more than heart warming in your eyes, Vash has always been good with kids. You jump when Rosa speaks up, handing Tonis his net that he almost forgot in his rush to get away from his mother's fury.

The sense of warmth you’d felt from the little display is gone, that air of tightness you’d felt since leaving the hotel with Vash this morning back tenfold. Something is about to go down and it doesn’t take long to figure out at the diner owners words. “Sorry about this you two” drawing a gun and pointing it more at Vash than yourself, “It’s the cash not you.” Meryl and Vash are both standing, hands in the air, you raise an eyebrow not looking at Rosa anymore or Roberto directly across from you but Vash. A subtle nod, followed by a swift flick of your wrist and the smoke bomb you’d stashed in your jacket sleeve rolls down into your fingers before you hurl it into the floor and run for the door, Vash hot on your heels.

“Split up?” Turning your head as you run to look back at him.

“Yea. Fifteen?” Both hands are held out as he shrugs waiting for your answer.

“Make it twenty” you send a smirk his way before both of you are taking off in different directions vaulting and jumping around the town. While Vash heads for lower ground you’re headed higher scaling building sides and avoiding the occasional bullet, the advantage of not having a bright red coat to give you away. You do feel a little bad for the blond seeing as most of the townsfolk are chasing after him instead of you, the sound of gunfire making it easy to keep track of where he’s running. Jumping to another rooftop to avoid your own pursuers you catch sight of some laundry hanging out to dry that seems to be a pretty close shade to the red jacket worn by your partner giving you an idea. An awful idea for the owner of said laundry, but hey, you gotta do what you gotta do, making another sharp turn and pulling yourself up to the awning covering the hotel entrance and glancing into the window to make sure no one is keeping an eye on the room you occupied. “Bingo.”

Popping the window and slipping inside to grab both of your bags trying to be as silent as possible, which given Bertha being strapped to your back was no easy feat. Once outside again however you grabbed the laundry and headed down the lower levels sticking to the outskirts and darkened alleys and made your way to the toma pens dropping seed trails from the bag in your pack that you’d kept for the bird you and Vash had been using as a pack animal the last few weeks. Bags tucked out of sight for when Vash rejoins you near the entrance, you went to work, grinning to yourself “Someone is not going to be impressed later” and quickly tied the laundry to a few birds and sent them on their way.

Based on the amount of time that’s passed and the lack of small arms fire you get the feeling Vash has hidden himself somewhere and start looking for him, sticking your head around buildings trying to spot him. When you finally do you have to sigh, he’s with the two reports who are questioning his lack of wanting to fight back which pisses you off. You catch up to the three of them, just in time to hear Meryl ask if he’d forgotten to bring ammo which makes you snort even from this distance.

After you hear Vash speak and compare the cost to donuts you laugh causing two of the three you’re speaking to to jump, unaware of you “Bullets are getting pretty pricey. But if we wanna leave town, now’s a good time. I might have set up a few distractions for us.” Vash gives you a look that to you conveys his exasperation because he knows you’ve done something that will create extra work for someone else later, which you just shrug at him for. Following behind Vash once you hear the people in town starting to call out that they’ve found him.

“See, I have great ideas” Vash snorts in response to your cocky words.

“Let’s hope this one doesn’t backfire.” His tone is short with you as you begin the trek down to the town entrance, surprised when Meryl offers to give you a lift, much to Roberto’s annoyance, and you slip away to retrieve your bags freezing just out of sight when on your way back you see the three of them on their knees. Rosa pointing her gun at Vash.

Well shit.

Back to Masterlist for the series

#vash the stampede x reader #vash the stampede #trigun stampede #trigun #twink writes #Bullets Bandits Ghosts & Typhoons #tristamp

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our-flag-means-death-ao3feed · 1 year

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Baby Bonnet

by WeeBigJane

Research Scientist Dr. Edward Teach and Obstetrician Dr. Israel Hands are finalizing a fertility wonder drug at Bonnet Biotechnology. Due to a shortage of lab space and a small amount of nepotism their project is shut down before human testing can begin. Their funding and lab space is reallocated to failing Research Scientist Doctor Stede Bonnet and his in-vitro gametogenesis project.

Dr. Teach and Dr. Hands must find a way to bypass the review board and the FDA to secretly test their pregnancy drug on a human being. But what woman in her right mind would agree to submit herself and her unborn baby to an experimental drug? Perhaps Ed, Izzy and Stede F*cking Bonnet only need each other to see the experiment through.

A reimagining of the 1994 Schwarzenegger/DeVito comedy “Junior” now with a Queer element and featuring our favorite cast of characters from Our Flag Means Death. If you haven’t seen ”Junior”, don’t watch it first. It will be more fun if you have never seen it. There are additional plot points added to the core story to make the Queer Romance element work so even if you saw the movie, the story will be very different. Time period: Mid 2000s. Land lines, internet, cellphones. No smart phones.

Words: 4155, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: Our Flag Means Death (TV), Junior (1994)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Blackbeard | Edward Teach, Stede Bonnet, Israel Hands, Blackbeard's Crew (Our Flag Means Death), Crew of the Revenge (Our Flag Means Death), Mary Allamby Bonnet, Doug (Our Flag Means Death), Alma Bonnet, Louis Bonnet

Relationships: Blackbeard | Edward Teach/Stede Bonnet

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Scientists, Cisgender male pregnancy, Canon-typical medical inaccuracy, animal testing, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, references to abortion and miscarriages, Hijinks & Shenanigans, It’s funny because it’s written seriously

source https://archiveofourown.org/works/44145603

#Our flag means death #ofmd

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spotlightoneds · 7 years

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History of Eating Disorders

It is commonly believed that the advent of eating disorders (EDs) is a recent phenomenon, coinciding with the Western world’s focus on the thin body shape ideal during the 1900s. This, however, is a misconception as historical evidence suggests that anorexia and bulimia have existed as early as in the 4th century.

Anorexia Nervosa (AN)

The early cases of anorexia demonstrated a different motivation from the one most eating disorders are attributed to today. Rather than being based in a severe fear of gaining weight and body dysmorphia, religious devotion seemed to be the main motivation in the early cases of anorexia. In the early middle ages, (5th century), wealthy Roman ladies, under spiritual direction, would starve themselves as a way to sever themselves from earthly bonds, heighten their spirituality, and demonstrate their religious devotion [4]. Fasting, among other self-constraining behaviors, such as self-isolation and self-mortification, were believed to bring the practitioners closer to God and enabled them to facilitate mystical experiences, as starving could lead to hallucinations [4]. The women who participated in these periods of restrictive eating often ended up spending many years in bed, suffering from a type of hysterical paralysis. In his book, Holy Anorexic, Rudolph Bell described European women who would participate in “holy fasts” to cleanse their spirits [4]. One famous example of these women is Saint Catherine of Siena (1347-1380). Wanting to display her religious devotion, she maintained a rigorous regiment of abstinence for many years, including intense exercise and the use of a twig to self-induce vomiting. In the start of the last year of her life, she was no longer able to eat or swallow water [5]. A month later, she lost the use of her legs [5]. And in April, she passed away following a stroke eight days earlier [5].

The first description of anorexia as a medical condition was published in England in 1689 by Dr. Richard Morton, who described one of his female patients as “a skeleton clad with skin” [4]. The 1800s boasted many advancements in the research of eating disorders, as doctors were increasingly distinguishing EDs from hysterical and panic disorders. Charles Lasegue (1873) and William W. Gull (1874) are noted as being the first to publish full medical accounts of anorexia nervosa, Lasegue postulating the refusal to eat as a form of rebellion [4]. There were inaccuracies in their accounts, however, as they viewed amenorrhea (loss of periods) and emaciation as consequences of the restrictive eating, instead of as core features. In addition, it was thought that anorexia was a female-only condition. The 1800s also saw a transition in motivation for AN from religious fervor to a fear of gaining-weight. One such instance was described by Worthington (1875) [27]. While examining one of his patients who was suffering from AN behaviors, the patient was found to have a ribbon tied tightly around her waist [27]. The ribbon was a measure to which her waist size was not supposed to exceed [27].

The 1930s saw a shift in the understanding of eating disorders; EDs now being viewed as being also partially psychological and emotional rather than solely physical [4]. Since then, awareness and knowledge of EDs have been steadily increasing.

Bulimia Nervosa (BN)

Evidence of bulimia also dates back to the 4th century. During Caesar’s reign (around 700 BC), wealthy Romans would overeat at extravagant banquets and then vomit, so they could return to the feast and continue eating [4]. Ancient Egyptian hieroglyphics depicted the people’s use of monthly purges as a believed method of avoiding illnesses [4]. Additionally, Persian medical manuscripts and early Chinese scrolls described diseases that were strikingly similar to modern EDs [4]. In many early ancient texts, such as Avicenna’s Canon of Medicine, self-induced vomiting was often prescribed as a method of “self-cleansing”, a medical procedure used in cases of excessive consumption of food and weight loss. By the 17th century, vomit-inducing agents and laxatives were commonly used to remedy bouts of overconsumption. Drinking vinegar was used as a laxative in the 19th century, and later in the early 1900s, an abuse of laxative and thyroid medications was reported [27].

Evidence of cases of BN in history was not as apparent as AN, a difference that could be explained by the need for large quantities of food to be available for the binging episodes and that sufferers were not as conspicuous, as they usually were of normal body weight. For the most part, during the 1800s, BN was largely viewed as an “ominous variant of AN”, and it wasn’t until 1873, that bulimic symptomatology was first described in AN. During the later 1800s, terms, such as cynorexia (overeating followed by spontaneous vomiting), hyperorexia (picking or nibbling behavior in response to feelings of faintness), polyphagia (inability to feel satiated resulting in frequent overeating) and bulimia (recurring episodes of severe hunger attacks), were thrown around to describe the disorder, but ultimately, none of these terms were appropriate fits [27]. In 1903, French physician Pierre Janet described patients with bulimic behaviors, but none of his cases resembled the typical symptomology of modern BN, but rather resembled the usual 19th century descriptions of bulimia as a symptom [27]. In 1932, Wullf described one male and four female patients as having an “oral symptom-complex”. Compared to the modern symptomology of BN, none of these patients would be deemed as typical, but they did share certain features with BN, including episodes of binge-eating alternated with fasting episodes, a preference for sweet and starchy foods, and a sense of disgust concerning their bodies [27]. However, only one patient shared a desire to lose weight [27]. Similarly, only one patient spoke about vomiting frequently; however, whether or not the vomiting was self-induced is unknown [27].

It wasn’t until 1979 that Gerald Russel, now widely considered as the founding father of BN, published the first formal paper that characterized BN [7]. In his paper, he described BN as a variant of AN and studied patients with a “morbid fear of becoming fat” who overconsumed and compensated by purging [6]. He also proposed treatment options and emphasized the severity of the disorder [6]. In 1987, BN was finally entered as a separate disorder for the first time in the DSM-III-R [7]. Following its entry, the prevalence of BN tripled between 1988 and 1993 [1]. Today, though incidence rates have decreased, the number of individuals diagnosed with BN is still higher than the number diagnosed with AN [6]. This sudden increase in incidence could be explained by a shame of being fat that emerged in the 1940s, an abundance of food that appeared following the Great Depression, and the increased emphasis on the thin ideal in the 1960s [6].

Binge-Eating Disorder (BED)

BED is a relatively new disorder, and was first described in 1959 by psychiatrist Albert Stunkard as “night-eating syndrome” (NES) [8]. This may be attributed to the tendency of patients to engage in secret eating during the nighttime. The term “binge-eating” was later adopted to describe the same disordered eating behavior minus the exclusive nocturnal behavior [8]. BED differs from BN in that it involves the binging and fasting components but not the purging. With this distinction, BED seems to resemble the instances of bulimia described by Janet. The symptoms of Wullf’s patients who did not partake in self-induced vomiting also resemble BED. BED was first proposed to be included in the DSM in 1991, and was officially added as an eating disorder in 2013.

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