14 Field medicine / No anesthesia

Ai-less whumptober

Needle and thread.

WHUMPTOBER DAY 19. Prompt: “no anaesthesia.” Fandom: Batfamily

Summary: Dick is forced to carry out a life-saving emergency surgery when you are too far away to reach help before it becomes too late.

Warnings: Impalement, blood, gore, stitching, needles.

Word count: 1k (short but sour, I had to do this quickly sorry.)

MASTERLIST ⛤ WHUMPTOBER WORKS

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

Dick Grayson would never forget your blood curdling scream the moment the rebar punctured your stomach, ripping up skin and muscle as it forced its way through your back.

You had been flung sideways by the villain you had been fighting. The force of his throw has caused you to topple over the side of the scaffolding and sent you plummeting to the ground. Unluckily for you, you happened to land on the scrap metal.

He cried out, cursing as he fought to get to you. It was only supposed to be a simple patrol, but he was outnumbered. Dick fought hard, landing kick after kick and blow after blow with his sticks to reach you. When he landed heavily on his feet beside you, he could already see the puddle of blood below you. It gushed freely from your body. Raw and red and beautiful.

Your mouth was agape, panting against the pain. Your eyebrows upturned behind your mask as your face contorted in agony.

For a moment, he couldn’t move. He was stuck still staring at the blood stained steel. Your muscles clenched around it as you writhed.

“Y/n.” He dropped to his knees beside you when reality hit him like a ton of bricks. “Fuck.”

“Dick…”

His hands hovered over your body; he was too afraid to touch you as if touching you was going to break your fragile body more. He was wide eyed, mind running at a thousand miles a minute. He knew he needed to move you, but the rusty metal bar was the only thing preventing you from bleeding out completely. He had hit the emergency signal on his suit, and he knew help was on the way, but he had no way to gauge how long it would be before they arrived.

“Okay…” he breathed out unsteadily. His hands trembled as they moved around your body, coaxed in your blood. “I have to move you.”

Nodding, you clenched your eyes shut and gritted your teeth. Dick wrapped his hands around yours to haul you off of the bar. You howled, muscles twitching as it was ripped through you again. Your vision blurred as he lay you back down on the ground, applying pressure hard to the wound.

“Come on, Y/n. Just stay with me a little longer. Help is coming.”

“Dick…” you forced out through wet coughs. “You have to do it.”

He shook his head frantically. He hated doing it. It was something that was only supposed to be a last resort. “No. No, I can't do that to you.”

He turned his head, desperate to spot the red and green suits heading his direction, but all he could see for miles were the lights of the city.

“Robin, where are you?” He asked into the coms.

There was a crackle before he replied. “I‘m going as fast as I can, but I’m about 10 minutes out.”

He cursed. You were too far out for him to reach the bat cave and Damian was still too far away. 10 minutes and you would have lost too much blood.

“Do it.” Yo pleased. “Dick. Please.”

He took a deep breath and turned his head away, before pulling out the needle and thread that was kept in the small Medkit you carried in your suit for emergencies. Dick struggled to thread the needle with the way his fingers shook. But after finally sterilising and threading the small tool, he positioned it above the wound. It was still bleeding heavily.

“I’m so sorry.” He muttered as he made the first stitch.

You bucked forwards, contorting at the stabbing against your skin. He tried to be quick, but that did nothing to stop you feeling every stitch as the thread tugged against your skin to close the rift. You had almost blacked out by the time he had rolled you over to stitch up the entry wound. Every second was nothing but torment that seemed to replace the blood you lost.

By the time he had pulled the last stitch closed, you were a whimpering mess. Your face was stained with tears and your hair was a mess. Your whole body felt like one giant bruise; everything ached and your joints felt like a hinge that needed to be oiled.

Dick had tried his hardest to keep you awake, whispering sweet apologies into your hair as he rocked you back and forth in his arms, though you weren’t 100% sure who he was trying to make feel better; you or himself.

Your body had slowly begun to go numb after a while as you waited anstily for Damian to arrive. A chill had begun to set into your bones. By the time he had finally arrived, the pain and your senses had dulled into almost nothing at all.

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

<- DAY 18 ⛤ DAY 20 ->

Taglist:

@senjoritanana

@deans-spinster-witch

@amaryllis23

Thinking about characters who CAN'T take pain meds.

-Have been drinking/have a liver condition that doesn't allow them to take acetaminophen etc. Also, the fact that certain stronger meds can be dangerous when combined with alcohol

- Can't keep anything down

- Of course, the classic 'no anesthesia available' field medicine trope

- Character is poisoned and caretaker doesn't know what will react with the toxin

- Character doesn't have anything strong enough to fully take away the pain

- Sick character can't get themself out of bed to go to the store to replenish their medicine cabinet

Whumptober Day 14: No anesthesia

tw: medical whump, noncon surgery, surgery without anesthesia, intimate whumper, noncon touching (non-sexual), blood eehehehe I love this prompt and trope good shit right there

Whumper made the first incision, right down the middle, collarbone to navel. Whumpee had too many restraints to squirm. Their gag prevented them from screaming. Whumper soaked up as much blood as they could. Then came the second incision, across the abdomen, right under the rib cage. Again, Whumpee could do nothing. Whumper reached inside Whumpee with a gloved hand. They were careful not to displace Whumpee's organs, but it felt good to have a hold on Whumpee that they previously couldn't attain. Whumper's main purpose for the procedure was research and curiosity, but beyond that was a longing for the intimacy that came with being inside of someone. Whumper had fantasized of organs and bones and muscles all in his grip, Whumpee helpless as they took control of Whumpee at a deeper, more physical level. Whumper took his hand out of Whumpee. They removed that hand's glove and changed it to a fresh, sterile one. With their other hand they picked up a small camera. "Hold still," Whumper instructed, "and breathe easy. This next part will go much smoother if you cooperate." Whumpee's panicked, rapid breaths through their nose slowed to deep, full ones. Whumpee became less tense and Whumper muttered a "mhm, just like that," as they prepared for what was next. Whumper lifted the flaps of skin up one by one, taking pictures of Whumpee's internal structure. They could see Whumpee trying their hardest to stay calm as Whumper temporarily shifted things around. Whumper could only imagine what it felt like for their patient. Whumpee was scared in a way they never had been. Whumper had crossed a boundary that Whumpee never imagined being crossed, and every time Whumper touched their insides with that gentle, yet controlling touch of theirs, Whumpee felt a shiver go up their spine. One side of Whumpee felt the pain of the invasive surgery and the restraints digging in, and wanted to lash out, to scream for Whumper to stop every time they felt Whumper's touch in a place it shouldn't be. Whumpee's other side recognized that course of action wasn't possible, and instead kept as still and calm as they could so Whumper could finish up faster. Whumper had to admit to themself, this was fun. Not only were they learning about human anatomy in a direct and fascinating way, but who better to operate on then their very own Whumpee, who just couldn't say no! Whumper oohed and ahhed at seeing the human body laid out before them like this. They wished they could keep Whumpee open like this for days as they took a plethora of pictures and notes and felt the thrill that came with holding Whumpee's insides. Whumper finished taking the pictures and observations they wanted an hour after the procedure began, and set down their camera. To finish, they placed both hands on the two sides of Whumpee's rib cage, fingers gently stroking bones, and felt Whumpee's chest rise and fall with each breath alongside their beating heart. "Thank you, Whumpee," Whumper said quietly, like they were sharing a secret. "This has been a very pleasant and educational time for me. Your body is beautiful, truly something to marvel at." Whumpee wanted to squirm at that comment and Whumper's hands, a knot twisting in their stomach. "Don't be afraid, I've taken great care to make sure everything's still where it's supposed to be. Once I've stitched you up, it'll be like this never happened. Though I bet you and I won't forget." Whumper removed his hands from Whumpee's chest, then put on a new set of gloves and picked up a needle and thread. They moved back to Whumpee and began the meticulous process of putting them back together again. Whumpee hated the pain and wished it would be over. They knew Whumper was putting stitches in, their work done, but the constant piercing from the needle and the pulling of the thread was getting to be too much. Whumpee tried to yell out and failed. Whumper acknowledged this. "Don't be so impatient, this won't take long." They were nearing the end of the first incision and would soon stitch up the second.

A few minutes later, going by quickly for Whumper and painfully slow for Whumpee, the stitching was finished. Whumper breathed a sigh of relief at a job well done; Whumpee at the end of a horrible trial. Whumper took off Whumpee's gag and took their camera and notes journal to their study, leaving Whumpee to recover and take some deep breaths. Whumpee could feel the ghosts of Whumper's hands in their body, and they felt icky. Neither of them would forget that day.

🔪👨‍⚕️🧽🪣🔫🧤 for the ask game

thanks for the ask, nonny!

set during Alex’s time undercover with Zorland

cw: medical whump, pain, gun shot injuries, medical abuse/neglect, nausea, needles, narcotic mention, graphic depiction of surgery w/o anesthesia, probable medical inaccuracies

Alex watched the lights of Zorland’s back room as she was unceremoniously dumped onto the cold metal exam table. Her leg was throbbing, icy-hot pain emanating from the bullet burrowed in her thigh. It must’ve been bad, since they’d taken her straight to medical instead of Zorland. The room cleared out, and she waited for the unforgiving touch of the healer’s hands as he strapped her down to the table.

It didn’t come. Instead, someone else she didn’t recognize stepped into the room.

Was this some new test? Zorland poking and prodding further to see if she would break? Only time would tell.

“Did they just fucking leave you here?” They asked incredulously, eyebrows furrowing. There was a tired sigh, and then the sound of a stretching latex.

A face appeared in her vision. “Can you tell me what happened, sweetheart?”

She laid there in silence for a moment, words caught in her throat. Normally, the healer didn’t ask questions.

“Shot. Left thigh,” she said, trying to keep the emotion out of her voice.

“Anywhere else hurt?” They patted their hands down her body, feeling around for other injuries.

She shook her head, resisting the urge to flinch at all the little touches. It would be over soon.

“Great. I’m going to take a look at your leg now, hun.” There was a firm hand on her ankle, and then her pants started to be cut away.

It took everything she had in her to not rip her leg away from the healer’s hands. Just because they weren’t the usual guy didn’t mean they wouldn’t report every whimper and wail back to Zorland.

“Bleeding’s stopped,” they noted in a tone that was almost upbeat. “I’m going to look for an exit wound now.”

Alex grit her teeth as the healer’s hands slid closer to her inner thigh, trying to ignore the deep feeling of wrong that rolled through her gut. They quickly inspected her leg, and she did her best to not inch away.

“I’m gonna start an IV, and then I’ll sort your leg.” The smell of alcohol wipes burned the air. “Any allergies, sweetheart?”

“No.” Not that she knew off, anyway. Still, it was odd that she was even asking. The normal guy rarely gave her anything, with the occasional exception of saline.

“I’ve no controlled, but I’ll do what I can for the pain.” They sunk the needle into the top of her hand.

Pain medication. What a fantasy that was. Zorland, apparently, drew the line at illegally acquiring narcotics.

“I’m also going to give you an antiemetic. My powers tend to make people feel nauseated, so it’ll help.” After the explanation, the healer quickly pushed the meds and moved on.

A blanket was spread across the upper half of Alex’s body. It wasn’t thick, nor was it very soft, but it was something. The back room was always freezing, so it was still appreciated. They let Alex down four ibuprofen, and they also set a bucket by her head, “just in case.”

How nauseous did her powers make people?

There was an awkward lull of activity while the healer prepared for the procedure ahead, setting out their tools, scrubbing their hands, and sliding on a new pair of sterile gloves.

Alex did her best to keep still while the healer worked. For some reason, the lack of restraints was jarring. It wasn’t that she liked them, it just felt wrong for them to not be there. Her wrists felt too light, and the lack of pressure across her hips made it feel like she was going to float away.

The ibuprofen started to kick in, though it barely made a dent. “This is going to hurt, there’s no way around it,” the healer said, almost apologetically. “It’s alright if you scream. If you need a break, just let me know, yeah?” As they spoke, they gently used a sponge to wash the dried blood away, then swiped betadine around the wound.

Alex wasn’t stupid enough to fall for that particular trick. At least the guy was nice enough to give her the rod, but she’d probably be able to pull through without biting her tongue off. Probably.

“I’m going to have to remove the bullet before I can heal you.” They spread a drape over her leg. “It’s going to suck but you’re going to be okay.”

In preparation, she wrapped her hands around the sides of the table, trying to steady her breathing. She’d had worse. She’d had so much worse.

The healer made the first incision, dragging the scalpel along the edges of the wound to widen it. Alex grunted, face twisting in pain as she dug her fingernails into the metal. Two fingers plunged into the wound, scissoring it open.

She just wanted it to stop.

Cold metal forceps dug into the wound, searching for the bullet. Her leg twitched on the table, a useless attempt to throw the healer’s hands o of her. “We’re nearly done,” they said, but Alex couldn’t really hear them.

They pushed further, until they finally stopped. “Got it.” They said, yanking the bullet out of the wound and dropping it on the floor. “All that’s left is to heal it.”

Darkness glimmered in the corners of her vision. It would be all too easy to just let go.

Fire ared in her leg as the healer started to work. “You’re doing great, sweetheart,” they said as Alex’s flesh slowly started to knit itself back together. Bile burned the back of her throat, and she reached for the bucket.

“I gotcha, just a little bit longer,” they said, voice soft. The sentiment was nice, but it was overshadowed by the absolute agony that was tearing through her. Her vision was lled with stars and spots, and she didn’t ght them as they clouded over and pulled her under.

The emptiness was home.

Taglist: @pigeonwhumps @rainydaywhump @painful-pooch @rainbowsandwhumperflies

Captive

ai-less whumptober 2023 day 14- no anesthesia fandom- Danny phantom TW- electrical shock, improper medical stuff summary- Danny is a captive of the GIW

ao3 ailesswhumpotber23 masterlist part 2 of SIANT

Danny woke to the lights in the room where he was held turning on. His hold body still ached from what they had done. The injuries were still there, though no longer bleeding. With the collar on, his healing hardly worked.

He flinched back as Agent E stopped in front of him.

Agent E sighed. “Don’t make this more difficult for yourself, Phantom.”

“Please… Please no more. I can’t– I– Please no more.”

“It will be easier if you cooperate.”

Danny whimpered, but didn’t resist as the agent reached in, dragging him out and dumping him in the rolling cage. He didn’t say anything for a while, but he could feel the terror clawing at his throat and his hands scrabbled uselessly at his chest.

His breathing picked up as they neared the door they’d gone through yesterday.

“Will they put me to sleep?” Danny said frantically. “Since I didn’t resist.”

“You mean, will they use anesthesia?”

Danny nodded.

Agent E snorted. “Why would they do that? Anesthesia and pain medicine are for humans, and who knows if it would even work on you? It would just be a waste. Besides, anesthesia is mainly used to keep patients from moving during a procedure. But you don’t have to worry about that, they’ll make sure to use enough restraints to keep you from wiggling too much.”

As the door opened, Danny’s panic escalated.

“No! No, no, nononononononono!”

He pressed himself against the bottom of the cage as hands reached for him, and Danny heard the quiet click of the remote's button being pushed.

Danny tasted blood as his body seized from the electricity. He only came back to himself as he was being strapped back onto the table. 

His breathing was coming quickly and he felt out of touch with his body as the scientists manipulated his limbs into the restraints.

Restraints were added to his wrists, upper arms, ankles, legs, waist, neck, forehead, and across chest. By the time they were done Danny could hardly move.

They put him through what Danny thought was an MRI machine and then took what were maybe some x-rays.  He heard the scientists muttering amongst each other, but Danny’s ears were ringing and he couldn’t make anything out.

Then they were standing over him again, and he could make some of the words out.

“Fascinating.”

“Yes. Who knew some could develop such complex mimicries of the human system.”

“He’s got mimics of the complete organ system and the skeleton.”

“I think we’ll just start with some bone marrow samples today. If it even has any bone marrow.”

“Agent E, could you help us turn him over?”

Danny tried to flinch back as the agent approached him, but the restraints wouldn’t allow it.

“I suggest you don’t resist, Phantom. Unless you want me to activate the collar again.”

“Please…”

“You’ll be fine. They're just checking for bone marrow. It’s not their fault you decided to have such complex mimicry.”

“But–” 

The agent held up the remote, and Danny shut his mouth.

He didn’t resist as they took off the restraints.

He didn’t resist as they turned him over.

He didn’t resist as they strapped him back in.

“Please…” he whimpered and was ashamed of himself as tears slipped out.

He felt someone run their fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp, and he couldn’t resist leaning into the touch. “You’ll be okay, Phantom. Don’t move, and it will be over soon.”

Then the needle pierced his flesh and Danny screamed.

The fingers kept running through his hair.

A Cut

Summary: Written for AI-less Whumptober 2023 Day 14. Set during RttE’s King of Dragons, Part 1. Hiccup almost avoids being hit by the harpoon aimed for the Titantwing Dramillion

Warning: Some violence

Rating: Teen and Up

Characters: Hiccup, Toothless, Fishlegs, Meatlug, Snotlout, Ruffnut, Tuffnut, Spitelout

Pairing: /

Words: 1 243

Fandom: How to Train Your Dragon

Prompt: Bleeding through the bandages, field medicine, no anesthesia

Whumpee: Hiccup

Author’s Notes: I could've written something really heavy, but I decided to keep it light for this one.

Enjoy!

@ailesswhumptober

XOXOX

Hiccup saw the harpoon coming and made the split second decision to dodge out of the way. His left cheekbone burns intensely after. His heart pounding, unwilling to comprehend how close he's just come with death, he follows the direction it's going. Toothless’ gaze is only on him, having feared for a headless rider. The harpoon strikes the Titanwing Dramilion and it falls.

All he can do is shriek "no!" and give chase, but he and Toothless fail to keep the injured dragon from falling into enemy hands.

Watching as Johann and the Flyers flee the scene with the Dramillion, Hiccup barely notices the blood quickly seeping from his wound. Though Toothless can certainly smell the metallic tang in the air. One peek at his Rider and he's off to find Fishlegs.

-XOXOX-

Most of the Dragon Riders and Spitelout watch in strange fascination as Fishlegs tries his best to stop the bleeding. Hiccup sits on a rock as his friend holds his face. One hand cups his uninjured cheek, the other holds cloth to the cut. Toothless spaces from his one side to the other, keeping a close and worried eye on him.

"Do you guys really have nothing better to do?" He glares at his friends. "Like finding that Dramilion?!"

He’s in a bad mood for obvious reasons. He’s angry that they couldn’t save the Dramillion and that they’re forced to waste time treating his injuries instead of chasing after the Flyers. Fishlegs has a cloth pressed against his cheek, but it just keeps getting redder from all the blood he’s losing. It has already run down his throat and soaked through his tunic. That certainly doesn’t help either.

"Astrid's got it covered," Ruffnut speaks up.

"Yeah, and she's got it covered alone!" Hiccup protests. Another reason to be in a bad mood.

"Except she's not alone, she has Stormfly with her," she reasons. As if one dragon will matter to a fleet and the Flyers.

He can’t help but express his annoyance.

“Hiccup, don’t move!” Fishlegs protests, pulling his friend back. “This cut is very deep, I won’t be surprised if it’s gone down to the bone!”

“Man, your face is half off!” Snotlout remarks in disturbed fascination.

“Snotlout, my face is not “half off!” Hiccup sighs.

“You came close to losing yer face, boy-o. That harpoon almost took your head clean off!” Spitlout says, bellowing with laughter. Without a doubt, it’s going to be a good story to tell around the fire.

“That’s going to be such a cool scar,” Tuffnut helpfully states.

“You mean hot,” his sister argues.

Hiccup averts his gaze away from his friends, looking up at Fishlegs and patting Toothless’ nose. He hates being here when Astrid is all alone out there and when the Titanwing Dramilion- possibly the King of Dragons- is in danger. If they can somehow harness its mind controling powers… that would be disastrous.

Fishlegs' gaze meets his and there's an understanding between the two.

"Hey guys, can you go find me some medicinal herbs? I won't be able to stop this bleeding without them," he requests his friends.

"What? No, you don't," Snotlout crosses his arms.

"Come on, guys, I really need those herbs and Hurry! Hiccup is bleeding through everything I'm using!" He exaggerates.

"Actively dying here!" Hiccup ups the drama.

"No, he-" but before Snotlout can finish his complaint, Hookfang grabs his rider by the scruff and hauls him away. Meanwhile, Ruff and Tuff mount Barf and Belch and exclaim something about a quest before leaving. After Spitelout leaves the four of them have some peace.

A moment passes.

"Thanks, I really needed some peace and quiet," Hiccup thanks his friend.

"Oh, it's not a big deal," Fishlegs pulls the cloth away to see a fresh stream gust out of the cut. "But that cut is bleeding a lot, though."

"Don't most facial injuries?" Hiccup asks, remembering being told as such by the man in front of him.

Fishlegs regards him for a moment. He's right, but this one happens to be very deep. He presses a cleaner part of the cloth to his friend’s face, but it immediately colors a deep red. His hands are stained with it, too.

He sighs. He fears it might only stop bleeding when he stitches it.

“Meatlug,” he calls for his dragon and the Gronckle steps closer. Hiccup takes the cloth over from him to hold against his cheek as he rummages through his saddlebag looking for supplies.

-XOXOX-

“And… done!” Fishlegs remarks as he cuts the thread. The wound has been stitched and the bleeding has stopped.

Hiccup releases a breath, relieved that it's over. Just because his face was already burning as if on fire it doesn't mean that he didn't feel every sting of the needle pushed methodically into his skin or didn't feel his skin being pulled back together again.

"I'm okay, Bud," he tells his dragon. Toothless takes his paw back, he'd given it for Hiccup to take and squeeze in his lap. He licks the back of his hand. "Thanks."

"And thank you, Fishlegs. Both for stitching me up and for giving me some peace, I really needed it," he thanks him. The other Dragon Riders and Spitelout have yet to return from their mission to find botanical help.

He pats Toothless' nose.

"Oh, it's no problem, Hiccup. Really!" Fishlegs smiles at him. It's an expression Hiccup returns to the best of his ability, but it doesn't last long.

"Now we should probably find the others, catch up with Astrid before she catches up with the fleet," Hiccup says.

“Wait, right now? Hiccup, I just finished stitching you up, don’t you want to rest first?” Fishlegs asks and Toothless, too, seems to protest. He wants to chase after Astrid, too, but he would rather do it without risking his human.

“Fishlegs, it’s just a cut.”

“And it almost went down to the bone! You’re lucky you didn’t lose an eye! Or your life!” Fishlegs is exasperated. Of course, Hiccup wants to get right back up on his dragon and get to work.

“That’s a bit of an exaggeration, don’t you think?”

At that, Toothless all but roars in Hiccup’s face. He sits up right, paws using the human’s knees for support. He glares at him while the other stares up at him in surprise.

“Exactly what I was thinking, Toothless,” Fishlegs crosses his arms. Neither of them will be letting Hiccup leave.

The man must be in a lot of pain, because he sighs in defeat and concedes. Maybe it isn’t such a good idea to go flying with his face pounding like this.

“Fine,” he says. “But we have to catch up with Astrid.”

“I’ll find the others, we’ll go after Astrid and come back for you. I promise,” Fishlegs tells him and Meatlug approaches to let him mount up. She warbles at Hiccup, who pats her nose.

“Okay… If Snotlout and the twins give you trouble, just tell them that they’ll be doing patrol for a month if they don’t do what you say,” Hiccup tells him and he nods before Meatlug takes off. They leave Hiccup and Toothless behind.

The latter curls up around the former, his head ending up on his lap. Hiccup lays his arms on top of him and his chin follows slowly.

It stays quiet between them and a part of Hiccup is glad to stay behind with his Bud.

Lynette isn’t a doctor anymore. Too bad there’s a patient here to see her anyway.

Day 3 - "Bite down on this"

@febuwhump DAY 3!

CW: Field surgery without anesthesia, moderate blood and guts descriptions, mild emeto, shock from near-fatal gunshot wound, mention of medication allergy

Notes: Some of this may be bullshit but this is whump not science class. I am not a doctor, and technically none of the characters in this scene are either, lmfao! Enjoy!!!

***

The world goes still as the bullet makes impact. For a moment, nothing but a punch and a stagger, and then comes the heat. And the heat is relentless.

“Jayla, they’re on the roof! They’re on the…” Marcelo’s eyes lock with Gabriel’s, which are already beginning to be swallowed up by stunned pain. He can feel the blood soaking into his sweatshirt, hot and hungry, but the shout of panic out of Marcy is still enough to jolt him as his hand finds the wound.

A second later, he hits the ground.

“Gabriel!” Someone’s voice, someone’s hands, and the noise of recognition that starts to leave Gabe’s mouth turns to a gurgle of pain as Marcy’s hands find his gut. It burns, so bad, and the burning gets worse every second that Marcy shifts his weight and yells words that echo and warble and ring like the sounds of gunfire still drilling into Gabriel’s head. More hands find him, pick him up gently, larger and steadier than those of the man still pressing into him as the world starts to spin with movement. “Get him to the van, get him to the van, this is not gonna be good—” and then Marcy’s voice leaves completely, and it’s just Gabriel in the arms of who he’s figured now is Dominic Grace. The sound of a door slamming open, then darkness, broken only by the terrified eyes of Seiah suddenly appearing over him as fabric begins to tear. The sinking guilt in his stomach is more than just copper at this point.

Words filter in and out of his ears, muffled by a numb depersonalization that he realizes, somewhere, definitely isn’t ideal. Every nerve buzzes as his skin is exposed to cold air, soothed only by the rising tide of blood down his side. 

If death is so cold, why is it welcomed in so warmly?

“...the anesthetic makes him seize, I am not...”

“So what, you’re…”

“...Jayla gets back, she’ll drive us fast, but…”

“...stomach acid…”

“...fatal…”

“GABE!” Blond hair and blue eyes and fear. Gabriel’s eyes loll open slowly to the sight of a scalpel hovering over his skin. “Gabe, Gabey, this is gonna hurt. Please just hold on. Please.” The van’s moving, when did the van start moving? When did he get in the van? “Bite down on this, if you can, okay? It’ll be okay. It’ll be okay, Gabey.”

A folded belt finds its way between his teeth. It reminds him of dried fruit, of snacks scavenged from the back of the pantries after school, lonely nights doing homework in the—

It all explodes into darkness.

By the time the fire clears, the blue of Seiah’s gloves is entirely coated in red. By the time the fire clears, his body is open, something pulsing and everything torn with Dominic holding everything sharp in his hands and Teana humming a lullaby over a handful of gauze and towels.

He gags.

“Nonono, shh, you’re okay. You’re okay.” It’s Teana talking, now; Seiah seems too lost in a mess of organs to register Gabriel’s movement at all. Everything’s lonely now, distant, cold. Stabbing like ice. “Don’t look. Don’t look at any of it. We’re almost at the clinic, they’ll have something to help you, okay? They’ll have something that works.”

Something pinches, squeezes, aches. He swears he can see his muscles flex as he jerks from the pain. Next to him, on the van floor, is a tupperware container with bullet shards and viscera. He wonders if he’ll ever forget it.

“Grace, hold that closed for me.”

His hands find Gabriel’s guts, and something lurches. This is beyond nausea, beyond disgust. He feels like a vessel, like a dying nest, like something damp and splattering on a cave floor.

His organs seem to nod in agreement.

“This should be the last piece? Make sure I don’t open that again when I do. Just…”

God, he thinks he’s dying. 

It burns.

“Gabe? Gabe, Gabe, you’re okay, you’re okay…”

More blood.

“Just keep— fuck, just keep breathing—”

More heat.

“Almost there, almost there, just—”

Relief. Closure. Pain coming to a head.

He blacks out again.

Free Palestine 🇵🇸

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Crisis Core: Final Fantasy VII Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Characters: Zack Fair, Cloud Strife Additional Tags: No Anesthesia, Self-Harm Series: Part 14 of AI-less Whumptober 2023 Summary:

The trackers in Cloud and Zack's arms had to come out at some point. Otherwise Shinra and Hojo would keep finding them. In a moment of desperation, Zack becomes the surgeon while they're on the run.

Top surgery journal #2: my thought process was "heehee they took my tits" and I was so happy about that I couldn't stop laughing but suddenly I realized it was thanks to my surgical team that I was happy so I NEEDED to thank my nurse RIGHT THEN but I was still too high to figure out how to do that

you motherfuckers have no concept of what "land back" or "decolonize" even mean. you're too busy demonizing entire groups of people, terrified, shitting yourselves, that they'll do even half of the horrors to you that you've done to them for decades or centuries. this shit comes off as hella racist for real. you hate arabs so much. you hate first nations people so much. you hate black people so much. even if you sympathize with them, you can't fucking bear the idea of them gaining freedom, independence, autonomy, safety, because you're so, so scared they'll hurt you back and cause chaos in the streets. these same people who just want to rebuild. who just want to go home. who just want to see their families again. who just want food. who just want medical care. who just want dry, warm shelter. you're so focused on the ideas of colonization, of "us vs. them", of one people displacing the other for a state to exist, that you cannot comprehend coexistence, and your only idea of peace is if an entire group of people were just gone and dead.

grow the fuck up. for the love of GOD, grow the fuck up.

Day 26 - Alt. Prompt: Body Modification

Depersonalization, amnesia, memory loss, implied torture, flaying, blood, medical procedures, no anesthesia, dubious medical accuracy, mentions of Christianity

[Directly follows Vows]

Yessir. No sir.

That was all it took to sign away his right to what fragmented memories he had left. The Wolf knew he should have cared about that, cared enough to be angry about that.

But he wasn’t - he was whatever they wanted him to be.

So long as he was out of that Hell, he would be whoever they wanted him to be. He would be no one, not even The Wolf, if that’s what it took to stay away from that place.

The sun was warmer than he remembered, brighter too.

This new room had a window, and that was all he wanted to remember.

He would swallow back the nausea induced by the scent of acid-eaten flesh when his prints were burned away. The bandages wrapped around his fingers were thin, letting blood dye the gauze pink as the overseer walked him to a different room in the building.

This one did not have a window.

He saw the surgeons set out medical equipment and he promised himself he would not flinch at the scalpel’s kiss. (Why waste anesthesia on someone who knew better than to shy away from the pain?)

When they finished cutting, he looked down at his own flayed, tattooed skin set aside while new skin was sewn into place.

He wondered if they had meant anything, the flowers and vines that once curled up his right forearm and encircled his bicep. He wondered if the old Wolf had gotten them from a friend or a stranger.

The new skin wasn’t his own, pale and cadaverous. He wondered if its former owner was dead, killed just for this purpose or a donor blissfully unaware that their flesh would be soaked in blood, forever tied to the hand of a monster. He wondered if there was any owner at all, or if the project had facilities that could synthesize the replacement flesh.

When they finished his arm, they had him strip his thin t-shirt, the material speckled with fresh blood as he thoughtlessly pulled it off without regard for his newly acquired stitches. One of the surgeons looked at him with wide, frightened eyes.

Like a young Viktor laying eyes on his creation when it first drew breath.

But still, they cut into the skin against his still too prominent ribs, carving away a cross below his left arm by his heart. The text inscribed within was too faded to read.

The bloody stretch of skin was added to the biohazard waste bin with all the ceremony of a discarded tissue. The surgeons set about aligning and stitching the cold patch of false flesh in its place. Blood ran in rivulets down the Wolf’s ribs, dying the waistband of his pants red.

His mind wouldn’t wander from the last glimpse of something his own, something raw and bloody that meant enough to who he had been to be engraved in ink on flesh.

(Hardly as permanent a mark as the one placed on Cain.)

Had he been deeply religious or culturally Christian? Did it have his real name hidden in the old, smudged ink? Did it matter anymore?

Hell was real. And the Wolf was hand carved from the violence and gore to be its very best devil.

[Before Liquidation]

(Part of my Freelancers: Swansong series)

Patch 1.1 + Updates for Faust’s Anesthesia. Now introducing:

• Camera Mode. Decorate your mobile phone with an assortment of colourful trinkets and take pictures of anything for memory keepsake.

• Pausing on the game too long prompts Sayaka to occasionally throw out a one-liner.

• Character “Akemi Homura” [file name: TRANSFER STUDENT • 电波少女] has been implemented. Note that she has the highest friendship difficulty out of everyone, so consistent hang out events are ideal.

• Grief seed farming has been nerfed.

fishbone corset