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flyswhumpcenter · 5 years

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Chest Pains

Summary: [Set during Second Opinion’sEpisode 6-3] There was something dirty about hiding something so severe from his most trusted assistant and nurse, but alas, there were priorities in life. (or: the world's most-needed surgeon and his discovery that he's been affected by what he sought to eradicate)

Fandom: Trauma Center

Wordcount: 1.4K words

Notes: Is 2019 too late to show up to the Trauma Center party? Oh well, won't be the first time I write for a dead fandom (looks at my post-Go-Galaxy-but-pre-Ares no Tenbin Inazuma Eleven fics).

Hello Trauma Center fanbase, or rather what's left of it! I've come to corrupt you again with my pseudo-literary Not gonna lie, this story is very experimental. I usually don't write about canon scenes and would rather invent my own, but I feel like rewriting the infamous 6-3 and/or 6-4 episodes of Second Opinion (or what happened after it, because ATLUS didn't deliver smh) is a rite of passage in the fanbase (or what's left of it, it's 2019). It's certainly not going to be my last fic for this fandom, considering the... mess this is, so stay tuned! I'm a professional fandom necromancer you guys.

(it’s technically not that whumpy, but since it depicts chest pain and infection.. I thought I could use it to keep this blog alive)

AO3 version available here.

There was something dirty about hiding something so severe from his most trusted assistant and nurse, but alas, there were priorities in life.

Being a surgeon meant to prioritize the patient above everything else. Treating GUILT, in a way, forcefully taught him this. No matter the context, the place or the difficulty of the surgery at stake, he had to go through with it anyway. He couldn’t complain: it was the path he had chosen, and countless lives counted on him to go against GUILT. It was, simply, how priorities were heading and going, and he just had to swallow his pride down and go with the flow of things. It wasn’t too hard when he wasn’t the one affected with the damn parasite, but today was… a different case. There was something wrong with him, but what?

He trusted Angie with everything, of course. He’d trust her with his life, even. However, even if he had an iron certainty about her skills and how she could handle and stomach so much, like she had done countless times in a single year before this day, he still didn’t want to tell her about what seemed to be a bad, but rather easily understandable, case of fatigue. It wasn’t out of pride, because that’d have seemed pointless. It was more of a want not to make her worry, put it simply. He didn’t want to see her get concerned for him, that was it. Not here, not now. There was no time to worry people, and there was no need to make her worry at the wrong time. He was a surgeon, she was a nurse, and they were busy. That was it.

Well, technically, it was too late not to make Angie concerned for his own condition. She had asked him during the pre-op conference if he felt all right, to which he had lied through his teeth. It hadn’t convinced her, considering she had kept her frown on even after he had responded. He had never been a good liar, but God had he wished he would have been earlier when saying that. Everyone could read right through him, but he absolutely had to give her a special mention for reading even more through him than anyone else could. Aside from his mother, that was.

“Are you feeling all right, Derek?”

“S-sure, I’m fine…”

This was one big lie and he was fully aware of it, even felt bad for being such a dishonest guy. And yet it was only the first which drenched his throat in acid and made his chest ache. She had to have had noticed his unnatural gulp following this.

She must have.

He thought he was clear for the length of the operation now that his lie was done and over with. He gritted his teeth through his mask, unseen from others, but very painfully conscious of how much the pression in his chest was steadily and quickly becoming something else much more sinister. It simply wasn’t anxiety anymore. There was, however, still no time to worry about it because he was a doctor. Right as he was thinking that, all the while trying to keep Tetarti at the centre of his thoughts as a way to save the patient and distract his attention away from the growing pain, relieved that his mask was hiding his clenched jaw, a question of Angie reared its ugly head.

“…Doctor.” A sterner tone resonated throughout the operation room, slightly taking him aback despite how used he was to this very voice scolding him. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah. It just surprised me, is all.”

To be fair, it wasn’t an entire lie, more like a half-truth. He had indeed gotten surprised by the sudden new mutation of Tetarti: they had never had to deal with these colour-blind until they emitted some toxic gas to add on every other poison these could emit. These pesky bugs had helped him escape a death trap for sure there, but there came the half-lie part. As much as his surprised had been real, his focus was far from complete. The fault to trying to operate when being the host of something himself, he guessed.

The irony was complete.

The surgery continued as smoothly as it possibly could when Angie realized the same thing as he did: how to distinguish between the different Tetarti cells flying around the liver. At least, as long as he operated on them, he wouldn’t awaken any suspicion from anyone… Well, as long as he didn’t mistake green Tetarti for yellow Tetarti and vice-versa again. Focus, dammit, focus. There, all done, until the next and last wave that was. He let out a sigh, as a way to unwind some stress and let go of some suffering. It was harder to retain a pained sigh than he’d have expected before today, frankly.

“…Are you sure you’re feeling all right,” Angie’s voice softly came to his hears, “Derek?”

The message took time to get registered inside his brain, as if his hearing had shut down for a few seconds.

“…What?”

But the fact she had used his first name couldn’t mean good for him. The mask and all his focus didn’t work out in his favour, because why would they after all, and he’d have to reply again. Hah, at least, the surgery would be all over with soon. Good for them, frankly. The pain was starting to resonate against his pulse. Time to lie again.

“Yeah, of course…”

He focused on the surgery again. He’d have to check whether lying to an assistant was against the Hippocratic Oath after they were finished with this patient. For now, Mrs Lyans was the priority and so was exterminating Tetarti.

“…I’m fine…” he added in a pitiful attempt to dismiss all worries levelled against him. It wasn’t even convincing himself, it would never convince Angie. His chest ache was only getting worse from there, and his organs were getting set on fire as he finally exterminated the Tetarti strain. He silently apologized to the patient for all the missed shots he had done in the liver. These flies really were quick when his brain was foggy.

There was no way to fully express his relief when he heard Angie say “We have a negative Chiral reaction. Good work, Doctor”.

His hands were shaking as he closed the patient up. Another quiet apology, another wish to be forgiven for having missed something, somewhere. As a surgeon, as the one doctor everyone counted on to save the world from GUILT and its suffering, he had to be close to perfect and… it wasn’t the case, today, and it’d never be again if…

If he died.

Right after closing Mrs Lyans and seeing her get wheeled out of the room, the pain flared, blurring his vision under a thick layer of tears. A panicked “what the” shuddered under his breath as he clutched his chest, desperate to determine what the hell was wrong with him right this moment. All he knew was that it was bad, very bad, very painful, potentially lethal and God it just hurt like a bitch! Coughing ensued, as if his body was trying to eject something, but all it did was drying his throat even more and amplifying the pain. Goddammit.

“What’s wrong with—” he attempted to say, but he was stopped by another coughing fit. His legs were about to buckle up under his weight and the sheer power of the pain.

‘Dr. Stiles…” Angie’s voice first trailed off as she looked towards him, right before her voice started panicking along with her. “Is there something wrong with the patient?!”

All she could see was his back, thank God, but he couldn’t keep it to himself anymore, could he? That was potentially life-threating and he knew it.

“No… This is…”

Another fit cut him off. By now, the patient had been wheeled outside the room and he was left being the centre of unwanted attention. Well, it’d be unwanted if he wasn’t sure this was all GUILT’s doing, so close to his heart.

So that was what it felt like, to have one’s heart lacerated by Kyriaki?

“Ugh…”

His eyes rolled inside his skull as he let go of a small grunt, knees giving in, OR turning to black. All he felt before going fully unconscious were arms wrapped around him, preventing his body from hitting the ground, and a distant cry from a very familiar voice he had barely heard being so torn apart.

Derek! What ha…

#trauma center #whump #hurt no comfort #derek stiles #angie thompson #guilt (tc)

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sordm5 · 6 years

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I wrote something for what was an underdeveloped FO4 character of mine. Also entertaining the concept of the Sole Survivor being a synth

The light and warmth of the fire offers very little comfort beyond the physical necessity, and does nothing to aid in giving a reprieve to the thoughts tripping over themselves in his head. He can see movement out of his peripheral vision, he knows it's almost time to sleep, but his eyes don't waver from the dancing flames and embers flickering in the air - unseeing and steady, while his hands tighten around the government-issued, rusted can of water.

"It's people like you that give the Commonwealth a bad name-"

His lip twitches. This is something he should be accustomed to by now: his mind subjecting him to these repetitive fragments. To his right, MacCready is rolling out a sleeping bag, and he can’t help but feel despondent at the idea of being left alone with his self pity. Not that they were engaged in riveting conversation, he just found the silent companionship to be comforting.

“Luna?” He can hear the hesitancy in MacCready’s voice, and avoids making eye contact.

“Hm?” he hums out, barely audible.

“You, uh...you gonna sleep soon?”

“Nah...I’ll keep watch.”

That must have been sufficient enough, because MacCready resumes fixing his sleeping bag. Luna absently picks at the label of the water in his hands. Maybe there’ll be a time when MacCready gets fed up with him as well - he’s been nothing but supportive to Luna’s plight thus far, but he knows he can be a handful. No one wants to be around that for too long, that much has already been proven before.

He sets the tin of water off to the side, and reaches to his left for his rifle. He ejects the mag, reassures the bullet count and empties the chamber, then slaps the mag back in and keeps the chamber empty, just to be safe. MacCready is already nestled into his sleeping bag, using his arm as a pillow, his hat flipped carelessly on its top beside his head.

Well, Luna muses, if the night is going to be long and sleepless, might as well entertain himself instead of glaring down his scope at shadows. Balancing the rifle in his lap, he leans over to pull his bag closer. A holotape of Red Manace is shoved into his pip-boy with little care, his mind still wandering and preoccupied. He just hopes he can get himself to focus on something else for at least five fucking minutes-

“Hey. Luna.” MacCready is looking over at him, squinting slightly at the light of the fire.

He doesn’t reply, but he makes imploring eye contact, one eyebrow raised.

“Just...well. Wanted to make sure you weren’t still thinking about what happened.”

Luna turns to the pip-boy on his arm, the midi sounds of Red Menace just barely heard over the crackling of the fire. He doesn’t know what to say.

“What happened?” he repeats, feigning obliviousness. He misses a jump in Red Menace and dies immediately.

“Yeah, you know. They don’t know a damn thing about what you’re going through, and-” A pause. MacCready makes a frustrated sound, like he doesn’t know how to continue. “-wanted to check if you were all right. That’s all.” He readjusts the arm he’s using as a pillow and sighs resolutely.

Luna stares at the start screen on his pip-boy, his hands and eyes idling. This isn’t the first conversation they’ve had like this - MacCready excusing the backlash he’s received because of the things he’s done and said to others. He doesn’t know who to believe anymore. He doesn’t know if MacCready is right.

It’s true that he could do without all the wrongly placed expectation on him to be perfect, the pressure of it doesn’t help him any. But does that truly excuse him from the hurt he causes? Does it even matter if he can’t control it? Does his suffering matter if everyone else out there is also suffering? He doesn’t know anymore.

“I’m all right. Thank you.” He presses the start button. “Get some sleep.”

“I've met a lot of scum in my line of work. People I wouldn't throw to the Bloatflies. But you, you're a piece of work. A real Jekyll and Hyde, and I won’t stand by and let this behavior of yours continue.”

“I don't know what to do with you anymore. It’s like you’re a ticking time bomb, man.”

Unblinking, he tracks the group of Trappers skulking around the fog through the length of his rifle scope. Their animalistic grunts as they twitch at noises from the forest send shivers of disgust down his spine. He could pick them off easily from here, from the vantage of a rock ridge and the cover of night and woodland. The world could do with less of their kind. Cannibals, he sneers.

He moves his finger past the trigger guard and consciously steadies his breathing. DiMA had said everyone here has a right to be on the island, though he doubts this sentiment was intended to include the homicidal cannibals. Still, it brings him pause. He opens both eyes and raises his head to peer up over the scope.

Even now, his mind taunts him with all the times he’d lost control, and been unable to hide his disdain or frustration at something or someone. The accusatory outbursts, the times he had yelled like a cornered animal and blindly taken a life. He thinks now that he probably didn’t look all that different from these Trappers during those episodes.

He pushes himself back down the rocks by crawling on his elbows and knees, trying his best to stay silent and hidden. Once his boots hit the dirt, he slings his rifle over his shoulder and checks his pip-boy for a re-route.

“Get him! Hold him down!” cries a deranged, guttural voice.

Luna barely contains a howl of pain as a heavy boot stomps down on his wrist. He defiantly clutches tighter to the grip of his bolt action, and only when the boot begins to grind down to the bones of his wrist through his skin does he finally let go. Another Trapper from behind takes his newly unarmed state as incentive enough to pounce and wrestle with his other arm.

He struggles to break free of the holds to the best of his ability, but he knows when he’s overpowered, and when struggling will get him nothing but further pain. His breath comes harshly through his teeth as his attention is abruptly grabbed by a man in a ridiculous helmet, fashioned after what looks to be a crab cage, taking purposeful, slow steps towards him.

A knife is removed from a sheath, and Luna starts kicking. The man in the helmet hisses in what could be disappointment at a feeble display, but Luna can’t help it - he’s starting to panic. Not once has he ever been rendered truly helpless by an adversary. The holds on his arm constrict painfully, and he swears he hears the bones of his wrist creak. He needs a tactic - an escape route.

For a moment, nothing happens. But then a sharp kick lands on his shin, and Luna has to bite his tongue to stop the cry. His legs are being stepped on like a goddamn welcome mat, and the helmeted Trapper carelessly straddles himself on his chest. The air is almost completely forced from his lungs, while the combat knife gleams before his eyes.

“I’m gonna slice the skin right off your face, and lick the blood clean.” The voice is like gravel.

“They have a right to exist on this island. The same as us.” And yet.

He doesn’t second guess himself this time, as he bites viciously to get his arm free and manages to grapple for the knife. His wild screams probably sound exactly like the ones the Trappers around him make as they struggle against one another. But he just doesn’t fucking care.

"Tell me: Are you a synth?” DiMA’s soft lilting voice, presented with such an unexpected question, does everything to derail any coherent train of thought Luna may have had.

“I- wait. A...synth? Me?”

“Designation R-A1-01.”

What?

“Part of a project I called ‘Reincarnation’. It was created to test a new system design in which a memory-transplanted synth is able to retain free will, and whether or not the human memory would be strong enough to override the disconnect between freedom and artificial purpose. We hadn’t expected-”

The blood in his arms runs cold and a dull ring sets in his ears, the voice becomes distant among the walls of the Institute as the dots slowly connect in his head. He feels faint. Was his body even real? Can he faint? Any information he’d learned about the biology of synths draws to a blank in his head. The countless times he’d shed blood in battle...the things he had felt. Suddenly, everything felt fake.

It made too much sense.

“-realize by now. It was you.”

#honestly #the sole survivor being a synth is the only obvious explanation for the uncaring that literally every single player has for their 'son'#and so that's my character's reality #which ends up fucking with his brain #i wouldn't even call this 'fo4 fanfiction'#it's literally just character development for an oc that happens to be a fo4 character #so...yeah #probably not interesting to anyone #oc luna

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waringout-blog · 7 years

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The Most Important & Definitive MCU Ranking, Probably

Come one, come all, and witness my subjective attempt at objectivity! The Marvel Cinematic Universe, whether appreciated or disavowed by fan or critic, is an ever present entry into the canon of film history and the cultural zeitgeist. With multiple MCU films releasing every single year between now and the end of time, there is no denying the sway these films hold over the Western cultural conscience and the conversations about the film industry, art, and fandom that they encourage. I have found in creating my ranking of the Marvel Cinematic Universe that list-making is an ephemeral practice in the subjective. Better yet, my making of this list has been a Sisyphean practice in futility, as I constantly revise these rankings based on the Marvel movie I’ve most recently viewed, or upon hearing a rousing argument from a friend, or some such constraint on my ability to establish objectivity in my arbitrary designations. Thus, I invite you to be my editors through this endless struggle. Here is my proposed draft of the MCU films, ranked from worst to best. Obviously, revision will be necessary as time moves ever onward, but if I am blatantly incorrect please let me know and we will collaborate together on some sort of truth in this cynical world.

15) Thor: The Dark World

14) Iron Man 2

13) The Incredible Hulk

12) Iron Man 3

11) Avengers: Age of Ultron

10) Thor

9) Captain America: The First Avenger

8) Ant-Man

7) Doctor Strange

6) Captain America: Civil War

5) Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2

Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2 is an endearingly warm film that returns to the cast of misfits that shattered the Marvel movie-making model. I’ve written about the film at length here, so I’ll keep the details brief. GotG Vol. 2 offers delightful moments of character and light-heartedness that is purely joyful. This movie is among the best that the MCU has to offer, and James Gunn, the director, continues to bring instinctive innovation to the superhero genre through wit, charm, and bad-assery. The Guardians of the Galaxy films nestle seamlessly between episodic space opera, a groovy soundtrack, and the most out-of-leftfield, off-beat superheroes that any studio has dreamed of. I left the screening of GotG Vol. 2 full of adrenaline and the largest, cheesiest grin beheld upon an apathetic college student’s face.

4) Captain America: The Winter Soldier

Captain America is the MCU’s most iconic superhero among its current roster. In 2008, Robert Downey Jr’s Iron Man was the catalyst of this growing film universe and a symbol of all that is excellent of that which followed. Unfortunately, the Iron Man sequels set precedent for the lack of imagination and/or execution that has defined MCU sequels (most will argue in favor of Iron Man 3, but I was largely unimpressed and haven’t revisited it since the first time). Robert Downey Jr. remains grounded as the inimitable Tony Stark, but unfortunately his charm is unable to sustain the unsavory sequels. This is not the case for Captain America, whose films continue to supersede the original one. Captain America: The Winter Soldier is bold and exciting, giving the audience an engaging plot, magnificent characters, and some of the most stylized and provocative action sequences within the MCU. While Captain America is often one-dimensional as an individual, his inclusion in the Avengers helps anchor the entire series. Everything that the character represents is reflected upon his fellow heroes and pushes them beyond what they are ordinarily capable of. It is Cap’s lack of cynicism, apathy, or arrogance that also inspires the audience to be better versions of themselves. Robert Downey Jr. laid the foundation of success upon which the MCU was built, but it is Captain America’s shadowing presence that bolsters it.

3) Iron Man

I continually return to the word iconic because it represents how the MCU has infiltrated the American consciousness through their ability to embed themselves within the cultural zeitgeist. This relevance is created in moments of gravity and inspiration so profound they cannot be ignored. Marvel Studio’s creation of Iron Man and their decision to cast Robert Downey Jr. brought about the emergence of a new brand of filmmaking and iconicized superhero movies forever. Marvel Studios, under the guiding vision of Kevin Feige, set upon tempered waters by taking one of their lesser known characters (one of the few they still retained movie rights for) and turning him into the foundation of their franchise. Feige set out to emulate comic books by creating serialized movies for audiences to track with and enjoy, as they attempted to streamline these heroes’ stories into an overarching narrative. At the time, there was no precedent for this type of universe building. The producers, working for the nominally independent Marvel Studios, were staking their claim in the tepid milieu of superhero filmmaking. The fact that Robert Downey Jr., a recovering addict humbly working his way back into the goodwill of Hollywood, acted as the impetus propelling the property into what it is today was an outlandish gamble. This bold vision paid off though, and Iron Man was both a financial and critical success. Nowadays, Iron Man and Robert Downey Jr. are synonymous with the MCU. This is most evident in Iron Man’s inclusion in both Captain America: Civil War and Spider-Man: Homecoming, and while I argue that Cap now carries the torch for the franchise, he does so piggybacking on the success of Tony Stark and his super-suit. Iron Man loses steam towards the end, specifically as they rush the story towards its inevitable and calamitous conclusion, but the overall design, effects, and plot are well realized and the perfect entry into this mammoth franchise. Audiences would not have been introduced to this vast universe of characters nor been taught the idea that “we are Groot”, had Marvel Studios, and subsequently Tony Stark, not had the audacity to proclaim, “I am Iron Man.”

2) The Avengers

This movie feels like a laborious day’s work coming to a close; as the hours wind down and the body’s strength weens, there is a sense of relief and accomplishment at the sight of a job well done. By the time Marvel’s The Avengers released in 2012, four movies and four years had passed since Nick Fury, and subsequently Marvel Studios, hinted at the Avengers Initiative. Marvel had delivered a bombastic entry into their cinematic universe through Iron Man, but proceeded to produce two flops (The Incredible Hulk & Iron Man 2) and two mediocre entries (Thor & Captain America: The First Avenger), leaving fans to wonder what they were buying into . Franchise fatigue began to set in for the first time and fans started to wonder if this elaborate film industry experiment was beginning to be derailed. That’s not to say that these films weren’t successful and the general population wasn’t willing to see them at the box office, but the question remained as to whether this franchise would break the glass ceiling and become something greater. Fortunately, the anticipation of seeing the Avengers team up in a single movie liberated viewers from their cultural malaise. The Avengers succeeded in bringing these separate superheroes together on screen and followed through on Kevin Feige’s original vision for the coherent, overarching narratives of many films to assemble into a single story within the confines of a single film, much like the team ups featured in Marvel’s comic books. The film is able to converge these characters without losing their individuality and allows each hero the time needed to be effective. The Avengers also offers the greatest MCU villain to date in the unruly and sinister Loki, as a continuation of his previous entry in Thor. Villainy was, and always has been, a problem in the MCU, but Tom Hiddleston's Loki is constructed so well and transcends the typical contrivances, that he is able to deliver a menacing performance that places him in the same iconic lineup as Iron Man and Captain America. Since its reception, The Avengers has served as the mold from which all MCU films are now made. Regardless of rumblings of superhero ennui settling in once again among fans, the franchise filmmaking model established by The Avengers is not an indictment on the film itself, but an accolade and example of being the type of film that so firmly supplants itself into the cultural conversation. In an era almost compromised by tedium in superhero filmmaking, The Avengers proved that it was the most evocative superhero film of its time, and that despite cultural listlessness, the MCU was still able to excite and shatter viewers’ expectations.

1) Guardians of the Galaxy

While considering Marvel’s The Avengers and its induction as the mold through which Marvel films are fitted, it is worthy to note that there are a few exceptions. Chief among them is Guardians of the Galaxy. Sure, it’s a superhero team-up movie that is both funny and action packed, but James Gunn took the Avenger model and notched it up to eleven. The film is daringly subversive and the heroes it displays are characters with whom audiences were widely unfamiliar with and unprepared for. Guardians strikes a delightful balance between irreverent and contemplative, and does so without paying attention to the conventions of other Marvel films. Expanding the cinematic universe into the galaxy and unveiling uncharted spatial and character territories quintessentially invigorated the franchise unlike any previous film. There was an unfettered joy in the creation of this film that translates perfectly into the experience of viewing it. It may be argued that Guardians of the Galaxy and The Avengers are tied for first or are out of order, but Guardians is just more delightful than any superhero movie that I have ever seen.

Please comment below and tell me how I’m wrong, or share it with your friends, solidifying my attempt at creating something pure and true.

#Marvel #MCU #iron man #thor #captain america #hulk #hawkeye #black widow #guardians of the galaxy #doctor strange #ant-man #spider-man

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