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alkali1 · 6 months

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Fantasy Maternity Ward

It had been a relatively quiet day at the maternity ward, but all of Dr. Ixia's hope of going home on time vanished when she heard the anguished screams of the petite elven woman being carried into the delivery room by her hulking orc husband. Half-orc deliveries were almost always a drawn-out, tortuous affair, and with the three-year length of elven pregnancies, the mother would surely need a lot of time and assistance to squeeze out the 60-70 pound toddler currently cramming its way through her overdilated cervix.

The nurse briefed the goblin OBGYN on the patient's status: "She's carrying a singleton, half-orc 163 weeks pregnant, and nearly fully dilated." The doctor's eyes widened at hearing how long the pregnancy had been. Elves usually couldn't handle bearing interspecies babies the full three years, but this woman had gone severely overdue. She shuddered thinking about the sheer size of the baby, and whether her body could even stretch enough to accommodate it.

The patient was helped into the birthing bed, her feet strapped up into the stirrups. Her breasts, sagging low with milk, were pushed up into her face by the enormity of her womb, which dominated the rest of her body. From Ixia's low angle it looked like it could be the size of the rest of her combined. The elf's straining, barrel-sized belly shifted back and forth as the strong, overdeveloped child confined within writhed, desperate to be born.

The doctor reached into the patient's swollen pussy to examine her cervix. She found her to be fully dilated, with the baby's watermelon-sized and colored head battering against the elf's hopelessly tiny pelvic inlet with each desperate push.

"Huff...huff...stuUUUUUUUUUCK!" was all the poor elf could say as another contraction made her strain desperately to squeeze the colossal head through her unyielding hips. "We're going to give you a little something to help you stretch", said Dr. Ixia, loading up a syringe with a clear potion.

Ixia made three careful injections into the ligaments holding her pelvis together, one in the front and one on either side of her delicate tailbone. She wrenched the strirrups back, bringing the elven woman's feet almost parallel to her head. The patient let out a desperate scream as she reacted to the burning sensation of her pelvic ligaments stretching like taffy.

With her hips finally widened enough for her pushes to slowly start squeezing the overdue toddler downwards, the patient writhed underneath the suffocating boulder of her belly, clinging desperately to her orc husband's burly arm. Each push brought a few agonizingly slow millimeters of progress, and with it an unimaginable searing pain that made her scream and wail that her hips would split. Though this was one of the most disproportionate births she'd attended, it was nothing the veteran doctor hadn't seen before. Ixia squirted some lubricating oil into the now bulging cunt of her patient, working it in around the brow of the child to hopefully ease its passage somewhat.

After a few hours the head was just barely starting to approach the elf's bulging lips. With a sliver of green skin visible, each push made her swollen flower distend just a bit more, until it formed a sickening bulge several inches wide. Her perineum was pulled so tight that it dragged her anus open with into a teardrop shape.

Ixia sighed, realizing that the elf's hole was just too small and tight to stretch around the colossal toddler head. She gently ran her fingers around the taut rim, testing its pliability and trying to stretch it around a little more of the huge skull. There was just no way it was going to fit without splitting the poor elf wide open.

"Ready the traction forceps," Ixia said to her assistant. As the device was being assembled, she rubbed a sticky potion into the elf's vaginal lips and perineum. "This will help you stretch wide enough to deliver." she explained.

With the ointment taking effect Ixia was just barely able to wiggle the curved metal faces of the forceps into the patient's birth canal and secure them into place around either side of the head. She locked them together and hooked the apparatus up to a chain, then turned a crank to create constant pressure against her patient's stubborn cunt.

"IT'S RIPPING MEeeeeeee!" screams the poor elf, struggling to stay calm with the burning sensation in her overstretched cunt suddenly multiplying tenfold. "Calm down, you're not tearing. Just breathe and push when you feel a contraction." Privately, Ixia had her doubts. The doctor prided herself on rarely having to cut her patients, but the sheer size of the grossly overdeveloped half-breed could easily prove too large for the extra capacity provided by the stretching ointment.

Over the next three hours the elf's grotesquely stretched pussy gradually stretched around the baby's boulder-like, fused skull. The doctor periodically ratcheted up the tension, and reapplied more ointment to the patient's vulva and perineum. But just before it reached its widest point, it stopped progressing.

The red-faced elf gasped as Ixia explained that the shoulders had become stuck on her tailbone. "Brace yourself, this will be quite uncomfortable." said the doctor as she pulled on an elbow-length surgical glove.

Ixia carefully squeezed her hand into the gaping maw of the elf's rectum. She faced severe resistance from the stretching and squeezing being exerted on the hole by the massive obstruction lodged in the birth canal. Every square inch of space in the moaning patient's pelvic cavity seemed to be taken up by the baby, but finally the doctor was able to get some leverage on the shoulders.

With the next push she attempted to rotate the anterior shoulder, but it wouldn't budge. It was completely wedged against the unusually prominent bone. With a sickening pop, the fragile spur gave way. Ixia quickly withdrew her arm from the patient and provided counterpressure as the unstuck baby surged forward.

"Try to pant through the urge to push. If it comes too quickly you're going to tear yourself badly." But the agonized elven woman was far too deep into the throes of labor to resist her body's desperate signals. With the next contraction the head finally popped free from her gaping cunt with a gush of fluid. Ixia disengaged the forceps and gently guided the shoulders and torso out. With one more quick push the gigantic toddler fully emerged from the elf's blown-out birthing hole.

Ixia needed help from her assistant to lift the child onto the mother's chest. As the new parents cooed over their firstborn and the nurses cleaned him up and did their examinations, she supervised the delivery of the placenta and stitched up the shockingly minor tears in the elf's loose, swollen-purple hole.

"76 pounds 15 ounces!" announced one of the nurses after weighing the chubby newborn boy. "One of the largest I've ever delivered" thought Ixia to herself. With the ordeal largely over, the doctor advised the patient to stay on bedrest for at least six weeks while her tailbone healed and alchemically stretched body parts slowly returned to normal. Finally, hours after she expected, she could go home.

#birth #size difference #pregnancy fantasy #pregnant fantasy #overdue pregnancy #giving birth #birth fic

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ajaxless · 2 months

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Doctor Harper being like...The "grown up" version of Kylar. Got sent to the psych ward for being a little too silly (went yandere) and hypnotized everyone into letting him out. Could you fucking imagine how scary that would be to be his (former?) Darling?

Harper as your dweeb classmate. Always has his nose tucked in a book, usually shows up to school with bruises, you can't tell if it's from his home life or from the bullies. You end up taking pity on the poor guy and get into the habit of taking him to the nurse at school to get him ice packs and bandaids. Over time Harper comes out of that quiet and polite facade and brags to anyone that will listen that the two of you are lovers. Except, no, you're not, you never would have agreed to such a thing. Sure, it's sweet that he walks you to each and every class you have and insists on carrying your books, but you never saw him in that light. You were just being kind! He got the wrong idea.

So, when Harper makes you lunch after you forgot yours at home, you don't think twice about it, typical Harper! Harper babbles on about how he's been studying how to become a doctor. That way, you two won't have to rely on the nurse. Maybe you could be his nurse? You could stay by his side all day while he works and dote on him as his lovely assistant!

Unfortunately for you, you don't get to correct him because the drugs he slipped in knocked you out before he could finish. Harper mumbles something about skipping the chapter on sedatives in his textbook and drags you home. Nobody thinks twice to stop him, most people don't even notice him.

Cue basement scene similar to Kylar's, except Harper is less paranoid and panicked. I think he'd just be delusional and convinced that the two of you are together. Defiant! Darling could resist him and snap him out of the delusional state, only to send him into a fit of anger. Submissive / compliant! Darling goes along with it out of pity / fear.

Here are some things I imagine when being abducted by Harper

He never yells and constantly refers to you by a pet name and never your actual name.

When you deny him, he probably just ignores it or smiles at you while pretending you said something else. Creepy bastard will respond out loud to an imaginary conversation he had with you. Example: Harper tries to feed you, and you spit food in his face, only for him to grin and say that he thinks the food tastes good too, then thanks you for sharing. Says things like "I love you too" even when you didn't actually say anything. If you point out that you didn't say anything, he just gives you a funny look like you're the crazy one here.

Harper doesn't think other people are going to hurt you / take you away and he doesn't want to keep you safe. I think he'd hurt you on purpose just so he can take care of you like you used to at school. That and out of revenge for being rejected. He doesn't feel threatened by other people because he's delusional and convinced it wouldn't be possible for you to like anyone else

Harper absolutely tries gaslighting you so he can be the "sane" boyfriend that takes care of you. You're just crazy, ahaha, your memory is soooo terrible. Thats not how it happened. Harper never said that. Have you been taking your medicine?

That Kylar event where they pull a knife to your throat, but this time it's just Harper showing off a new needle that may or may not contain an aphrodisiac. He might just have to "test" to see what's in the syringe. I mean, unless you can convince him not to inject you by having sex with him. Either way, You're going to get fucked. With or without the aphrodisiac is up to you.

Harper's cooking is actually good. Made specifically to be healthy and have all the vitamins and nutrients you need. Only downside is he sometimes spits in the food :( might even do it right in front of you and then laughs it off. Says it's like indirectly kissing you and it's no big deal, he always does this and has been since you let him make you lunches at school. Hearing this is ++stress

Harper doesn't write you songs, instead he makes poetry. You can't read the poems, his handwriting is terrible. (Haha, get it? Cus he's a doctor?)

Forced cuddle sessions, I can feel it. Also a messy kisser. Drools everywhere and giggles the entire time. I think Harper is a humper, cums in his pants all the time

There are two ways to escape:

Resist Harper enough until he gets frustrated and tries to get manipulate you into behaving by guilt tripping you. Harper injures himself in a minor way and insists you take care of him like you used to at school, telling you to go upstairs and get ice from his freezer...Only for you to bolt out the front door instead

Or by screaming until the neighbors hear and the cops come to investigate. Screaming only works at night, and you have to do it five times in a row when given the ability to do it. This sucks because it makes you lose a turn, and you can't resist Harper whichs lead to being noncon encounter

Either way, by the end of it Harper gets arrested. He abducted you and had a lab that made stimulants / pepper spray / sedatives and kept stealing ingredients from the pharmacy downtown. Either they determine he's insane or he goes to court and pleads not guilty by insanity.

You go a few years without seeing or hearing from him, believing he'll rot in jail forever and move on with your life. Then you find out your doctor retired and have to head to the hospital to fill out paperwork to change who your primary doctor should be, and wouldn't you know it? Harper's name is one of the options. Obviously, you don't want him to be your new doctor, but either way, he just forges the paperwork and makes you his patient.

You get called in for an appointment per usual, expecting a new doctor and Harper walks in with that stupid smile while clutching a clipboard with your medical history on it. You try to resist, but a bunch of nurses come in and restrain you and tie you to the table with leather straps that were hidden under the mattress. The entire time Harper just watches with a smile.

I think Harper would immediately confess that he's not a real doctor. He never went to school or graduated. He would've, but you got him arrested. He starts bragging about how he hypnotized your old doctor and took his place to escape, then realized he had a lot of authority and began doing whatever he wanted. Shortly after, he discovered that you still lived in town and jumped on the opportunity to get you back.

There's no harm in telling you this. Because who would believe you? You're crazy.

"Scream as much as you like, my love. The neighbors won't hear you this time."

#degrees of lewdity #harper dol #harper the doctor #degrees of lewdity harper

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darkbluekies · 1 year

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The cynical playhouse

yandere!doctor OC x GN reader x psychopatic!doctor

Summary: a mad doctor has decided to take you for his sick experiment and your very own yandere, Dr Kry, is not going to let this slide, he'll get his hands dirty to keep what's his.

Warnings: mental torture, physical torture, indication of masturbating, mad doctor, mentions of killing, death, mentions of graphic pictures and screams, nudity (not sexual), killing someone with a crowbar, yandere themes, chains, scalpel, cuts, blood, needles, drugs, gore

Word count: 3.2k

Day 0 — prologue

"I need someone that isn’t very strong minded, someone that will respond to the experiment.”

“The hospital is filled with vulnerable patients.”

“But they’re watched by so many nurses and their families are breathing down their necks. If anyone disappeared, people would notice … I need someone that no one would miss, you know?”

“There’s one actually … one that no one really knows anything about. Their family has never visited and none of the nurses have barely seen them. They could be interesting for your experiment.”

“Who?”

“Dr Kry’s little sweetheart.”

Day 1

You can hear someone whispering in the room. Lazily, you open your eyes to see who Dr Kry is hissing with. In the darkness of the room you can tell that there are two men, but you can’t tell who Dr Kry is. None of them resembles him. You know how his body looks and both of these men look too … old?

“Oh, they’re awake”, an unfamiliar voice chuckles lowly.

“Not for long.”

“What’s going on?” you mumble tiredly as you feel one of the men take your arm in his cold hand.

“Shh, just relax for me. It’ll just sting a little.”

The sharp pain from a needle causes your eyes to pry open and your heart to stop. Your eyes dart down to where the pain originates from and finds that the unfamiliar man is currently injecting you with some kind of substance.

“What are you doing?!” you gasp in pure terror.

“Shh”, the man with the needle says calmly and puts his finger over his mouth, a warning for you to quiet down. “You’ll soon go to sleep, don’t worry.”

You can start to feel how your body starts to go numb, how your eyes want to flutter shut. You fight against the substance, refusing to let your unconscious body fall in the hands of these two strange men.

“Don’t fight it”, the man with the needle says in a comforting yet taunting manner. “Just give in.”

“N-No ..”, you choke out.

Your vision starts to get more and more blurry until it all turns black.

You wake up with your head down on a table. Groggily, you sit up and look around. Quickly, you seem to sober up the second you realize that you’re not in your hospital room anymore. The room you’re in now is an empty, white room with a large mirror to your side. It takes up most of the wall. A security camera is watching you from the corner of the room. You look down at the table you were sleeping on and notice that your hands are cuffed to the white surface.

Your heart accelerates to 100km/h. It’s going to jump out of your chest at any moment.

“W-What’s going on?!” you shout and look around in despair. “Hello?!”

“Don’t panic, my dear”, the voice who told you to give in to the substance says through the speaker under the security camera. “Calm down and listen to me, okay?”

“W-Where am I?”

“You’re in my little … playhouse. We’re going to have a lot of fun here, you and I.”

You shake your head as tears start to form in your eyes. You don’t want to know what his kind of fun is. Panic starts burning in your chest.

“Please let me go”, you start to sob.

“Don’t cry. I only need you for a little while.”

“A-And then what? Will I get to go home?”

“Home? Gosh no! You’d go straight to the police and expose all the fun we had here! My funhouse is exclusive. I can’t let just anyone participate!”

“I don’t want to participate!”

“But you’re here now. I can’t let you go. I can tell you what I’m going to do with you, though. I’m going to test the human’s brain and you’re going to help me. If everything goes well, I’ll get famous!”

You wish that you could wipe your runny nose, but your hands are chained with heavy chains and you’re in no physical state to lift them.

Day 2

Nothing really happened yesterday. You were left alone in the white room. A sound was coming from the loudspeaker. The sound of flies flying around. In the beginning, you tried to find something of a rhythm in it to create somewhat of a melody, but quickly started getting annoyed at the buzz. You had shouted to turn it off and only heard a giggle in the loudspeaker in return. You don’t know how long time had passed, but you’re sure you had to sit and listen to that sound for at last four hours.

Today, however, the man has decided to step it up a notch. The door opens and he walks in with a TV on a rolling table. You refuse to look at him. The TV turns on and you’re forced to see a slideshow of the most grotesque pictures taken at crime scenes — some by the cops and some by the killers themselves. Over the pictures, a distorted melody with occasional screams can be heard. You don’t doubt that the screams are real. This one breaks you down easier than the buzzing you heard yesterday. Even if you look away, you can still hear the sound. You can’t lift up your hands to cover your ears.

“Make it stop!” you plead and feel the tears burn behind your eyelids. “Please!”

No response.

“P-Please, I-I’ll do anything”, you sob, your whole body shaking along. “I’ll do … do anything … please.”

“You were cuter than I thought”, the voice in the loudspeaker says. “So fragile. I get why Dr Kry wants you.”

“Dr Kry? I-Is he involved in this?!”

“No, he’s not. Your little doctor is actually looking for you. I heard that he destroyed a trash can in anger and looked at the security footage yesterday.”

You look up at the security camera.

“Oh, don’t bother”, the voice says. “This camera leads to my own little private collection. I want to save my playtimes so I can rewatch them once you’re dead.”

You sob again.

“Look up, Y/N”, the man says, “and turn your head to your right.”

You do. The only thing you can see is your own image. Your red eyes, the messy hair, your body in the hospital gown and your hands chained to the table. You look horrible.

“That’s right”; the man sighs out in satisfaction — almost a moan. “Looking so ... so fragile. Fuck."

You look down in the realization that this is a one way mirror. He's sitting on the other side of the glass, currently getting off on your fear. You've never felt so exposed before. You can only imagine what he'll do with the footage later on. Shame creeps up on you. Embarrassed to be treated like this, ashamed that you can't do anything to stop it. You're only a pawn in his manic game.

Dr Kry has been running around looking for you for over twenty four hours now. He hasn't rested once, hasn’t eaten once either. The only thing he’s nourished himself with is energy drinks and coffee, but that’s only to keep up his energy so he can look for you. The very thought about sitting down and eating makes him sick. How can he? You're his will to live! If he can't find you … no, he doesn't want to think about that. He is going to find you. He has to.

Yesterday when he walked into your room and found that you weren’t there, he had freaked out. First, the thought that you had snuck down to the cafeteria. Firstly, he had gotten annoyed. Like, hasn’t he made it clear to you not to leave his room without him by your side? He promised himself that he would punish you if he found you munching on a sandwich down at the cafeteria. He’s had to punish you a few times for sneaking out or talking with other patients and doctors and it hurts him so much every time. He doesn’t blame you, never does. You’re a little sweetheart, it's other peoples’ bad influence that makes you act badly. But that’s why Dr Kry is here. He’ll always make sure you never get in trouble.

He couldn’t figure out for the life of him who could have made you sneak out, but he promised himself to make sure they never talk to you again. To his disappointment, the cafeteria was empty. Somehow, he was happy that you weren’t here, it meant that you didn’t betray his trust by walking down here … but he’s disappointed because that meant that you could be anywhere in this large building. Or even outside in the harsh, cruel world. He had asked people if they’d seen you, but he got two answers — both disappointing. They’d either not seen you … or they didn’t know who you are. Dr Kry kicked a trash can on his way to the security room. On the way, he met one of the doctor assistants he never talks to. The man avoided his gaze and switched corridors the second they walked past each other. He watched the security footage … but it was all deleted. There was nothing to see. You were nowhere to be seen!

Dr Kry has been all over the town in search of you. He's been to your parents house (without them noticing), to your friends houses (you’ve only told him about them once, but he remembers so well) and all the possible places you could hide — such as coffee shops and parks. You’re nowhere to be found.

He sinks down in his seat in the car and hides his face into his hands. Where are you? He doesn’t believe that you’ve hid from him anymore. You wouldn’t last this long. If you wanted to give him a scare, you’d hide for an hour or so and then pop out to scare him … you wouldn’t do this. Someone must have taken you.

It hits him. Someone must have seen you. You can’t just have disappeared like that. He thinks harder, enough to make his brain creak. There was no footage from the security cameras from the night you disappeared from the period of two am to three am. Someone must have deleted it.

That assistant. The one he passed by yesterday. It must have been him.

Day 3

“Today, my little doll, we’ll see how your brain reacts to physical pain!”

You don’t answer. Three days have passed and you’ve already lost all hope. Not a single bite of food have you been granted and not a single drop of water. If you don’t get to drink today you’ll die. Somehow you hope that the freak behind the one sided mirror won’t give you any water. You just want to get out of here and if the only way is death … then so be it. You feel like you’re a ghost. None of this is really real, you’re not actually sitting in the chair, your hands aren’t actually chained. You’re just dreaming. You’re not here. You’re not here. You’re not here.

The door opens and the man enters. You can’t look at him, he makes your stomach turn.

“Before we start, I remembered that you need to have something yummy to eat”, he says as if he was talking to a doll or a child. “I brought you mashed potatoes.”

“I don’t want it”, you mumble.

“Open up.”

He holds the spoon with mashed potatoes to your mouth. You keeps your lips together and turn your head away. The man pokes your cheek with the spoon, growing more and more impatient.

“Eat. It.”

You gather enough courage to shake your head.

“Ungrateful little bitch!” he shouts and flips the table over.

You choke back a scream and break out in sobs, squeezing your eyes shut. Your entire body is shaking with terrified sobs. He slaps you with all his might causing your head to swing to the side. Your body would follow if it wasn’t for the fact that you’re chained to the table. You sob more at the fear of this madman than the stinging pain.

“If you don’t behave, I’ll have to finish up our playtime earlier than I want to”, the man whispers and grabs your face between his cold, disgusting hands. “And I want to play with you for a bit more.”

You glare at him through your tears. He picks up a scalpel from his white lab coat and places it over your bare arm. You shake your head desperately, voice no longer working.

“It’s just a test, my little doll”, he whispers. “Everything is for human kind, okay?”

“No!” you manage to shout. “I don’t want it, stop it!”

Too late. He has let the sharp knife-like object over your arm. You let out a loud scream which echoes in the room and makes the man smile.

“So beautiful”, he purrs and lets the bloody scalpel run lazily over your lips. “My own little doll ... I’m going to fucking destroy you.”

The door bursts open and before you can register anything, the man in front of you has been tackled to the floor and beaten to a pulp. You recognize the blonde hair and break out into relieved sobs. The man stands up, blood covering his white lab coat.

“Shh, it’s okay”, he pants as he unlocks your chains. “Don’t cry, I’m here now.”

As soon as your hands are free, you wrap them around his strong neck and bury your head into his shoulder. Dr Kry hates to see the cuts on your body and he hates to feel how you tremble in his arms. He lifts you up and you hook your legs around his waist. With one muscular arm around your waist and one around your shoulders, he carries you out of this horrifying room. A few guards run past him to get the unconscious man.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N”, Dr Kry whispers with tears in his throat as he walks. “I’m so, so sorry. I shouldn’t have left your door unlocked. I’ll never forgive myself. I’ll kill him, I promise. I’ll make sure he never hurts you again. I’ll take care of you better, never let you out of my sight.”

You cry against his shoulder as he takes you back to your room. You cling onto him even tighter. He’s your knight in shining armor, he saved you! You’ll always be in debt to him. Fantastic Dr Kry.

Dr Kry places you down on your bed and starts to look and feel around, to see if you’re really here or if he’s hallucinating. He hasn’t been sleeping for a long time.

“You need to wash yourself”, he says. “You look horrible. I can do it for you.”

You nod. Dr Kry picks you up again and walks into the bathroom. You get placed in the tub before he removes the dirty hospital gown. He’ll burn it — never want to see it again. You sit in the bathtub and hug your legs close to your naked body to hide, wishing to never exist again. Dry Kry wishes that you didn’t hide, you’re so beautiful. He shakes his head. Now’s not the time. He feels the water pouring from the showerhead with one hand as he adjusts the water with the other.

“Bend your head back for me”, he says softly. “I don’t want to pour water into your eyes.”

You bend your head back and he starts to pour the lukewarm water over your hair.

“Is it comfortable?” he asks.

You nod carefully, scared of every single action.

“How did you find me?” you whisper.

“I found the guy that helped your sick capturer. I pulled him into a storage room and forced him to tell me where you were”, Dr Kry says, hatred in his voice.

He won’t say what he threatened the assistant with, but you can only imagine.

“I came just in time”, Dr Kry says. “He was going to hurt you badly, that son of a bitch. I’ll make sure he pays for it, my- …” He cuts himself off, almost giving you a pet name. He clears his throat, embarrassed. “I’ll make him pay.”

“What were you going to say?” you ask quietly.

“Nothing, don’t worry about it.”

You give him the sweetest doe eyes that makes him melt and he can’t do anything else but tell you.

“I was going to call you ‘my little one’”, he says with a shy smile and runs his free hand through your wet hair, the other one continuing to pour water on your scalp.

“I like that”, you whisper and look down.

Dr Kry smiles in relief. God, you’re so fucking cute.

“You are my little one”, he says softly. “My only little one.”

He melts at the sight of your small smile. He’ll never let anyone steal that smile from you again. He’ll never let anyone take you from him again.

“Doctor …”, you whisper weakly as he shampoos your hair.

“Yeah?”

“Please never leave me. He scared me so badly.”

“Never. I’ll always protect you. I’ll lock your door at night and be much, much more careful. I’ll make sure he disappears, okay?”

You nod tiredly. Dr Kry sighs and leans forward to press a promising kiss to your forehead.

After he’s bathed you, he gives you a new hospital gown and tucks you into your bed. You hug the teddy bear and sniffle. Dr Kry glances down at the bruises around your wrists and gets filled with anger once again. He’s going to kill that psychopath. How dare he touch his darling?

As soon as you fall asleep, Dr Kry leaves the room, locking the door behind him. He feels the handle to make sure that it's locked before scurrying away to the security room. He turns off the cameras and grabs a crowbar on his way. This motherfucker is going to die. Normally, Dr Kry doesn't like getting his hands dirty, but this time he's looking forward to it.

He opens the door to the jail cell. The man is sitting on the bench inside with his head in his hands. He looks up and his eyes widen.

"D-Dr Kry, listen, man-", he starts, trembling.

"Quiet", Dr Kry growls. "I don't want to hear a single word from you. I'm going to kill you."

"Y-You can't, the cameras-"

"Your little friend isn't the only one who can manipulate cameras." Dr Kry swings the crowbar around his hand. "No one will know who killed you and I don't think anyone will care either. You're mine to play with now."

The man goes white.

"I'm going to play with you like you played with my darling", Dr Kry says in a warning calmness and takes a step forward. "I'm going to give back for everything you did to them."

"I'll never touch them again, I promise!"

"You bet you won't. They're mine, do you hear that? Only mine. The fact that you thought you had the audacity to touch them is enough for me to kill you. But after what you've done … I'm going to make you suffer." Dr Kry towers over the trembling man. "I'm going to beat you so badly that you can't move, can't think, can't breathe. The dying part will be done by yourself."

"N-No please, I'm sorry!"

Dr Kry swings his crowbar. "Too late."

He closes the door behind him.

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manicplank · 3 months

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Headcanon time!

How do they act when they're sick?

Peppino: Stoic. Won't admit he's sick. If he's not vomiting, he won't stay home. Pushes himself through it. "Be a man, die at work" kind of mindset. Gustavo has to yell at him before he'll go home. Ends up sleeping 12 hours.

Gustavo: Stays home and takes care of himself like the average person would. Lots of sleep, hot tea, and chicken soup. Gets lots of rest. Occasionally buys nasal spray so he can breathe through his nose.

Mr. Stick: Googles his symptoms and convinces himself that he's dying. Cries. Lays in bed and embraces it. Doesn't die. Goes out and buys nyquil. Sleeps it off for the most part. Gets a little snippy.

Pepperman: Tries to hide it but fails. Has a coughing fit that echoes through the whole tower. Can't even find the energy to paint. He usually troops it out but might take something to help.

The Vigilante: Panics at first, thinks his old age is catching up to him (he isn't even THAT old). Once he realizes he's not dying, he nurses it with old fashioned remedies. Steam and hot tea.

The Noise: Tries to be stoic at first but fails. Sniffles, sneezes, and coughs every two seconds. Noisette has to force him to stay in bed. Insists he can take care of himself and tries, but Noisette takes over (he secretly loves being babied). Sleeps it off. Can be a bit crabby.

Noisette: Super big drama queen when she's sick. Can't stand being sick, absolutely hates it. Gets pretty cranky and cries a couple times. Noise cares for her as she will refuse to leave bed. He tries to stick to good remedies but gets suckered into giving her whatever she wants;

"Can I please have some ice cream?"

"I think you should have something healthy-"

"BUT I DON'T FEEL GOOOOOD!!"

"OKAY, okay, I'll get you some ice cream."

Fake Peppino: Is immune to most illnesses and diseases. Doesn't seem to understand them, either. Gets worried when someone is sick, immediately thinks they're dying. Cries.

Pizzahead: BIGGEST. DRAMA QUEEN. EVER. He doesn't need to Google his symptoms to convince himself that he's dying. He gets the slightest sniffle and starts writing his will (he usually leaves everything to his ghost). Stays in bed and chooses one of the bosses or Gerome to take care of him. Gets super cranky and nasty.

Pillar John: One of those guys that rarely gets sick. You could inject him with a virus, and he still wouldn't get sick. When he is sick, it's so minor that he doesn't even realize it. He gets a sniffle and thinks it's just allergies.

Gerome: A lot like John, he hardly ever gets sick. He's generally a clean guy with a good immune system. If he gets sick, it only lasts a day if not a few hours.

#pizza tower #noise #the noise #headcanon #pizzahead #noisette #peppino #peppino spaghetti #pizza tower gerome #gustavo #pizza tower gustavo #mr. stick #pillar john #the vigilante #pepperman #fake peppino

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storyofmychoices · 3 months

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Just a quick update...

My dad is home but basically needs full time care for now. A nurse is coming tomorrow to teach me how to do medication injections and IVs. He's in a lot of pain and really can't sleep for more than short periods before being awoken by the pain. I'm hoping his progress will be quick but right now it's a lot so if I'm not around that's why.

I know I'm already behind on @choicesmonthlychallenge 🙈 I should be able to catch up tomorrow 3/2 (EST)

Additionally, I'm only posting 1 chapter for @choicesbookclub (The Elementalists Chapter 13). I was hoping to get two in still, but I don't think I can. I hope this might even give people who are behind a chance to catch up.

Thank you for understanding! 💛

#dani rambles #update

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iriel3000 · 8 months

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Hurry, She Needs You - part 4

Summary: Natasha becomes ill from what they think is food poisoning. Tony and Bruce try to care for her until Clint arrives home from a deep cover mission. Part 4 of 6

Whumptober Day 4: Shock

Natasha whump, light whump, emotional whump

Precisely five hours and 47 minutes after Clint’s phone call, he burst into Natasha’s medical suite. Still in full uniform, he ripped off his arm guards and rushed to her side.

Bruce and Tony politely stood off in the corner.

Barton whispered something in Russian, caressing Natasha's cheek with the backs of his fingers.

"Hawk?" She stirred.

"Tell me who did this."

She reached for him and wrapped her arms around his neck, forcing him to lift her into his arms.

“I’m here, I’m here. I got you.” Clint repeated over and over.

She curled into a tight ball against him.

“Get us out of here.” She whimpered.

“We’re safe. We’re at the Tower.”

“No, I saw James. They injected me...Tony.”

“Followed my orders, Widow. They gave you the antidote.”

“Don’t leave.” Natasha buried her face in his neck.

Barton swallowed hard.

“Not with a gun to my head. I will never leave you.”

He looked over at Tony.

“What time was the first shot?”

“Over three hours ago, she’s due for her second one soon.”

Barton exhaled, his troubled scowl lessening a fraction. Head Nurse Joyce Miller walked into the room.

“You're late.”

“Plane only goes Mach 2, I’ll have to make some modifications.”

“Well, hopefully now that you’re here, we can get her heart rate down. It’s been too high for my liking.”

Joyce adjusted the bed to a reclining position, moving about the room and talking to Barton as if one of Strike Team Delta on death's door was common.

He went to set Natasha down but she whimpered, clinging to him. Joyce clicked her tongue and Hawkeye turned sideways, keeping a tight hold of Nat. Nurse Miller removed his quiver, two pistols from his thigh holsters, and a large Bowie knife, allowing Clint to settle on the bed, adjusting Natasha across his chest and between his legs.

Joyce called attention to the monitor. Tony and Bruce watched Natasha's heart rate go down as she relaxed against Clint.

Without asking, Nurse Miller placed two fingers on Barton’s wrist and checked the clock on the wall.

“That always amazes me.” She shook her head. “I’ll be back shortly for the second round. See if you can get her to drink some water, please.”

She left the room. Tony and Bruce pulled their chairs closer. Bruce handed him a cup with a straw.

Before giving it to her, Clint made sure Natasha watched him take a drink.

No.” She whimpered, trying to knock the cup out of his hand.

“It’s safe, Nat.” He took another drink.

Trusting him like always, she sipped at the water, making a face.

“One more.”

“When can we go home?”

“Soon. I want you to get some sleep first.”

“No, they’ll take you.”

“Tony and Bruce won’t let them. They’ll protect me like they did you.” She glanced over at the two of them.

Tony hid a smirk. Barton and Romanov could give a shit about their own lives, but threaten the other...

“Nothing will happen, Nat.” Bruce promised.

She nodded. Clint hugged her close, nestling her into his side. She fought sleep for the longest time but eventually drifted off.

“I’ve never seen her cry like that before, Clint.” Tony kept his voice low.

“I know it was hard. We didn’t have your medical equipment last time. Thank you.”

“What happened in Thailand? How was she poisoned?” Bruce asked.

“Therillium is an assassin’s dream. It can be solid, liquid or gas. She was exposed when the Yazaki detonated a warehouse of hostages. I was too high in my perch to be affected.”

“Thankfully, or you both would be dead.”

Clint gave him a thoughtful look.

“How did you know what it was?” Tony wanted to know.

“It took two arrows to find out. Four more to get what she needed. She went into shock before the first shot.” He shuddered, wrapping his arms tighter around Natasha. “I didn’t think she was going to make it.”

“She did and she’s gonna get through this again.”

“Because of the two of you and Bucky.”

“Clint, it was Killian. We think the poison was meant for me. I’m sorry.”

Barton narrowed his eyes.

“Then I’ll rip both the bastard’s arms off, not just one.”

find the whole story below

Hurry, She Needs You

#whumptober 2023 #no. 2 #shock #the avengers #clintasha #fic #hawkeye #clint barton #black widow #natasha romanov #strike team delta #clint x natasha #hurry she needs you

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corinthianism · 7 months

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last kiss | sam winchester (3)

pairing: sam winchester/f!reader additional tags: best friends to lovers (?), fluff, angst

masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter | ao3

CHAPTER THREE: A BRUSH WITH DEATH (AND PESTILENCE)

Serenity Valley Convalescent Home was quite a sight, in that it was the most depressing building you’d ever seen. There was no way Pestilence wasn’t there.

The two brothers agreed with you on that. Dean said it looked like a four-color brochure for dying young. It earned a chuckle from you and a small smile from Sam, despite the anxiety simmering in your gut from coming face-to-face with another Horseman.

All three of you walked into the building, chests heavy with anticipation. If the brothers did feel anxious, they were damn good at not showing it. You had to keep your wits about you as well. As soon as you stepped in, all you could sense was disease. The whole place reeked of it. You glanced at your companions. The look on their faces told you that they were thinking the same thing. In a room oozing with sickness, you stood out like sore thumb.

Dean approached a security guard, asking him if he’d seen his “grandma” Eunice Kennedy. Of course, that was before Dean knocked him out. Sam eyed a monitor, thinking that he may have found their culprit. You shared a look, interrupted by Dean briefly falling in and out of consciousness. You needed to find Pestilence and you needed to find him fast. Even staying here for too long could kill all three of you.

Even you could feel the sickness clawing at your lungs.

As you traversed the hallways of the convalescent home, the staff and patients were dropping like flies. A doctor puked all over the floor, dropping to his knees whilst angry red spots broke out on the skin of a shrieking nurse. Seconds later, they were dead.

Sam coughed, and with it came blood, “Must be getting close.”

“You think?” Dean grunted, trying desperately to stay upright and walking. You, on the other hand, could feel your lungs constricting. Each minute you spent in this damn building brought you closer to death, and you’d be damned if you didn’t save the world before you went down. As much as Pestilence tightened his grip on you, the plague injected into your bloodstream, you could not falter. Not now.

So you marched onward, trying to ignore the sight and stench of corpses littered in ugly and painful boils. You made your way to one of the rooms, but before you could investigate it even further, Dean fell to the floor. Immediately, you and Sam were at his side, trying to hold him up but eventually, you all fell. Coughs echoed through the hallways and this time, they’re yours.

A nurse walked out from the room you intended to enter, and she blinked. Black eyes. Fuck, if you could just gouge them out right then and there, you would.

And as if things couldn’t get any worse, she went ahead and pulled out a cheesy one-liner, “The doctor will see you now.”

Sam pulled out a knife in one last attempt to save you and Dean. He heaved as he swung weakly, his knees giving out whilst the knife clattered to the floor, forgotten.

Right on cue, Pestilence appeared, a victorious smile on his face because he had the fucking Winchesters rolling on the floor, “Ah, the Three Musketeers. Come right in.”

He had his demon henchmen throw you all into the room like ragdolls. On the bed, there was woman who was barely recognizable underneath the abscess, boils, and whatever-the-hell Pestilence infected her with. If it weren’t for the fact that you could barely breathe yourself, you would’ve vomited from the sight alone.

“Hmm,” Pestilence pretended to inspect you, his sickly hand brushing against your forehead. “You don’t look so well. It might be the, uh, scarlet fever or… uh, the meningitis. Oh! Or the syphilis. That’s no fun.”

He eyed you, “I think I’ve got one with a… hah, healthy dose of pneumonia here.”

His tone rose with each disease he named with what you could only assume was excitement. He was excited that he would be the one to exact revenge on the three of you for what you did to his brothers, and that he was the one who would end the Winchesters once and for all.

“However you feel right now? It’s gonna get so very, very much worse. Questions?” he smiled sadistically. “Disease gets a bad rap, don’t you think? For being filthy. Chaotic. Uh, but really, that just describes people who get sick. Disease itself… very… pure… single-minded. Bacteria have one purpose. Divide and conquer.”

Pestilence stepped on Dean’s hand, and the sound of his pained scream tore at you. You wanted to get up and fight; to grab this Horseman by the fucking collar and to bash his head into the wall. For Dean. For Sam. For that poor woman on that hospital bed… but you didn’t have the strength. It’d been siphoned from you. It only served to worsen your anger.

“That’s why, in the end, it always wins. So, you’ve gotta wonder why God pours all his love into something so messy and weak. It’s ridiculous. All I can do is show him he’s wrong, one epidemic at a time. Now, on a scale of 1-10, how’s your pain?”

You looked back and forth between Dean and Sam. The feeling… the impending sense of doom that swirled inside of you and blackened your hope was familiar. You’d been through this before. Countless times before.

You’d felt it at that hospital, when Dean nearly died and John made a deal with Azazel to bring him back. You’ve watched Sam die before; impaled by Jake, and you mourned him for all of a day before Dean went ahead and followed in his father’s footsteps and did the same stupid thing of dealing with a demon. And again when Lilith had her hellhound maul Dean and send him to hell, and you and Sam could do nothing but hold each other as you listened to the screams of his older brother and your best friend.

And all the times before that, back when your world was smaller and all you had to worry about was Yellow-Eyes and the breadcrumbs John left behind. That felt so far away now. Now, you were at the mercy, or lack thereof, of one of the Four Horsemen.

Still, something told you this wouldn’t be the end. Not now, at least.

Hope came barging in in the form of Castiel. His name fell from Dean’s lips like a prayer answered, and you couldn’t help but let out a shaky laugh of joy.

“How’d you get here?” Pestilence barked, annoyed.

“I took a bus.”

Priceless. Leave it to Cas to save the day.

As much as you wanted to see Cas absolutely kick Pestilence’s ass, dark spots were already clouding your vision. Your throat had closed up some fifteen minutes ago, forcing you to draw short, quick breaths to stay alive.

Before you knew it, you passed out.

▼△▼△▼△▼△▼

“Sleeping Beauty’s awake,” you could hear the sound of Dean’s laugh. “Had a good nap, sweetheart?”

“Not now that I can hear you,” you squinted, your eyes adjusting to the light. It took you a while to realize that you were at Bobby’s.

“Ouch,” Dean brought a hand to his chest in mock hurt, before shooting Sam a look of disbelief. “You act like we don’t have history together. Sammy’s not the only Winchester in your life, you know!”

“Don’t worry, Dean. You’re my second favorite Winchester.”

“There’s only two of us!” he exclaimed, exasperated.

Sam tried to stifle his laugh and the heat blooming on his face. It was known that he was your favorite; he was your best friend after all… but to hear you say it?

Well, let’s just say it brought him a sense of belonging he hadn’t felt in a hot minute.

“Okay, okay,” he placed a hand on Dean’s shoulder, urging his brother to calm down so they could get back on track. “We got three of the Horsemen’s rings. We just need Death’s.”

“You should be an actor, Sammy. You say it so casually,” you nudged his shoulder teasingly. Dean barked a laugh in agreement. Sam rolled his eyes at you and crossed his arms, a sigh leaving his lips when the gravity of the situation really dawned on him. There wasn’t much you could do about Death, was there?

“Well, at this point, there’s not much we can do but go off of the last clue,” Sam remarked. “Pestilence said something about it being ‘too late’, what does that mean?”

“I’m freaking out a little here. Does he have a bomb or something?” Dean shot Bobby a pleading look. “Please tell us you have some good news.”

Bobby paused, a heavy feeling stewing inside. It was so painfully obvious, especially to you. He always did wear his heart on his sleeve, or perhaps age just softened him.

“Chicago’s about to be wiped off from the map. Storm of the millennium. Sets off a daisy chain of natural disasters. Three million people are gonna die.”

The room fell silent, the lightheartedness present just moments before now completely eviscerated by Bobby’s update.

It was Cas who spoke up again, “I don’t understand your definition of good news.”

Bobby explained to the angel how it was a blaring alarm for where Death was going to be. Three million deaths didn’t just mean that another once-in-a-lifetime gathering of reapers was in order; it meant that the head honcho himself would be there. He had to be.

You sank further into your seat, the same old couch you’d sit on whenever you read lore books with Sam all those years ago. You had never felt so small. Compared to the other Horsemen, you knew deep down that Death was just different. You couldn’t possibly comprehend his existence or his power. Three million people? Gone just like that? For the first time since this whole fucked-up journey started, you felt like you were way in over your head.

Sam sat next to you on the old worn-out couch, flashing you a small smile of comfort.

“Hey,” he whispered.

“Hey.”

“We’ll be okay.”

You forced yourself to look at him, and the fear tore away at another piece of your chest. You were only days away from what would possibly his death. So far, there seemed to be no alternative to his current plan of letting Lucifer possess him. It was ironic, and cruelly so, that you were here chasing after Death with him when it seemed as though death would come for him sooner rather than later.

“I don’t think we will, Sammy,” you finally answer him. The crack on your heart grew bigger.

He swallowed down the lump in his throat, unable to say anything else. He knew what this was about, and he wished he could tell you that it wasn’t going to happen the way you thought it would. That he could make it out of this whole thing alive.

But that would be a lie, and Sam was tired of lying. All he could do now was to savor every single moment he could. To remember your face just in case it would be the last time he’d see you. Nearly two decades of you and your friendship and your kindness; God, he was so grateful. He wished he had more time. Eighteen years spent taking your love, and he wished he had the time to give it back, but he didn’t. Not after this.

So you were right, both you and Sam were not going to be okay.

It made him take a step back, the haze of hunting and saving the world clearing for the first time since he left for Stanford. He’d spent his life chasing after monsters and it made him wonder if he’d done it for so long that he didn’t really need to chase after them anymore. The monsters were just there because he was Sam Winchester, and all that came close to him had a target on their back. Wherever he went, there was a black mark that burned through the soil and flesh and he prayed to whoever would listen that you would be clean of it; that you would be clean of him.

He’d never seen you so broken down. Sam realized that no matter how much he gave up, this world and this life would still keep taking from him. It angered him, it truly did, because there was this bitterness that stewed in his chest from the fact that it was his family that paid the price of peace. Peace that he couldn’t guarantee for you.

Sam thought he was a curse, and it killed him to know that you wanted him here with you still. He wanted you to hate him because at least you’d be far away from him and out of harm’s way, but here you were: you loved him, he loved you, and it would poison the both of you until eventually, someone broke. It would have to be him.

“It’s fine,” you smiled weakly at him. “We don’t have to talk about this now. We have things to do.”

For a few seconds, he just stared at you, as if he was willing the words to come out of his mouth but they just couldn’t. Again, there was his “kicked puppy” look. It made you laugh, just a little bit, so you placed a soft kiss on his cheek. The warmth of his skin under your palm brought you back to happier days.

“We have things to do,” you repeated even though it hurt. All he could do was place his hand over your own. For now, that was enough.

▼△▼△▼△▼△▼

“Things to do” was a massive understatement for what you were about to do. Sam, Cas, and Bobby headed to a Niveus Pharmaceuticals warehouse after discovering Pestilence’s plan to spread the Croatoan virus worldwide. You, Dean, and Crowley headed to Chicago to intercept Death, whatever that meant. Even with Death’s scythe in your possession, you could feel Dean’s nerves radiating off of him. He was gripping the steering wheel a little bit too hard, something he made a point never to do because he took care of this car like it was his child, but it was an obvious tell.

Your mind was someplace far away, drifting between thinking about this mission and how Sam was faring. He hadn’t updated you yet.

“Miss your boyfriend?” Crowley quipped from the back of the Impala. You groaned, leaning back against the passenger seat.

Before you could say anything, Dean answered for you, “She does.”

“Dean!”

“What? I thought I was your second favorite Winchester, so who else is the first?”

“Now’s not a good time to be discussing my personal relationships.”

“Oh, so you admit that it’s a relationship?” Crowley added.

“Please shut up.”

The demon snickered again before surprisingly keeping quiet for the rest of the ride. Although you’d never admit it, you appreciated the quick distraction. It pulled you away from your thoughts just long enough to maintain some sort of composure, because you had no idea how you were going to get Death’s ring.

“So… where is he supposed to be?” Dean asked Crowley.

Crowley pointed to a large decrepit building, “Big, ugly building. Horseman’s stable, if you will. He’s in there.”

You leaned forward to get a better look. Dean raised a brow, “How do you know he’s in there?”

“Have you met me? ‘Cause I know. Also, the block is squirming with reapers. I’ll be right back.”

You blinked, and he was gone. You turned to Dean, about to say something when Crowley suddenly returned, face flushed.

Death wasn’t in the warehouse, and three million people were about to die anyway. How the hell were you going to evacuate the city?

“I strongly suggest that we get out of here,” Crowley noted.

Both you and Dean were in a panic about how you were going to save that many people when Crowley suddenly vanished again. Rage clouded your vision; how the hell can he just disappear like that? When there was so much at stake?

“Crowley, you fu—”

“No need for that, dear,” he pressed a finger against your lips, making a point to wiggle it around. “I found him.”

Dean drove as fast as he could to the place Crowley provided, and it lead the three of you to a now-abandoned pizzeria. The wind picked up and random objects were now up in the air one by one. You and Dean got out of the car, turning around to see Crowley gone. Of course, he was.

“Are you ready?” he asked you, concerned.

“Not really, but that doesn’t really matter, does it?”

He smiled in agreement, before entering the pizzeria first in case something was amiss, holding a vice-like grip on the scythe. You followed close behind, but there was no one or even anything there except a gaunt pale man clad in black sitting in the very middle of the room. He radiated an aura that was almost eldritch, incomprehensible and unfathomable. Fearsome, but natural. Sitting in front of you was a force of nature, and you were just two humans trying to do the right thing.

“Ah,” the scythe fell from Dean’s hand. “Thanks for returning that. The pizza’s delicious. Sit down. Took you long enough to find me. I’ve been wanting to talk to the two of you.”

“I’ve got mixed feelings about that,” you chuckled nervously. Death only turned his head ever so slightly to acknowledge you.

“So, is this the part where you kill us?” Dean interrupted.

The corner of Death’s lips turned upward, “You have an inflated sense of your importance.”

You let out a long breath. Yes, amazing, like you needed the whole speech about how utterly insignificant you were. You could feel your hands getting clammy from prolonged exposure to… whatever the hell Death was, but every cell in your body was screaming at you to get the hell out of dodge.

“So why are we still here? What do you want?” you gathered the courage to ask him.

“The leash around my neck,” his cold gaze pierced through you. “—off. Lucifer has me bound to him; some unseemly little spell. He has me where he wants, when he wants. That’s why I couldn’t go to you. I had to wait for you to catch up. He made me his weapon. Hurricanes, floods, raising the dead. I’m more powerful than you can process, and I’m enslaved to a bratty child with a temper tantrum.”

When Dean asked him if he thought we were the ones that could unbind him, Death pointed out his mortal bravado once again. Death took of his ring, sliding it against the table towards the two of you.

“I understand you want this, and I’m inclined to give it to you.”

You were confused. You were in the middle of a city-ending storm, with millions of lives on the line, so you spoke up again, “But what about—”

“Chicago?” he continued monotonously. “I suppose it can stay. I like the pizza. There are conditions: you have to do whatever it takes to put Lucifer in his cell.”

“Of course,” both you and Dean answered.

“Whatever it takes,” Death repeated sternly. “I’m quite fortunate that the two of you are the ones that found me. That makes this discussion easier. Sam Winchester is the only one that can stop Lucifer, and I know what he is to you. I need your word.”

There it was. All the fear you had about facing Death himself was replaced by the decades-old fear you had of losing Sam. Death wanted you to promise him, to take an oath to let your worst fear come true.

“You’re going to let him jump into the fiery pit. Now, do I have your word?”

“Yes,” you answered in unison again. The word felt heavy on your tongue.

Sam Winchester was going to die, and there was nothing you could do to stop it.

#sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #reader insert #dean winchester #jared padalecki

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alwaysgloriouschopshop · 9 months

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t3acupz · 1 month

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🩻🤍💉 Brownham Medwhump May 💉🤍🩻

4. Sedated

The second night at the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane was even worse than the first. While Will was feeling anxious of his unfamiliar surroundings the first night, they felt too familiar on the second. His mind had adjusted to his new home, and he was getting agitated by the very thought of it. This wasn’t his home, and he shouldn’t feel like it was going to be for the rest of his natural life.

It was well past lights out, and the other inmates were snoring loudly. Will was pacing his dark cell like a wild animal, ready to bite off his own leg at a chance to escape. The sink had no mirror over it so he couldn’t see how deranged he looked but he could feel it in every bone in his body. This prison wasn’t meant for me, he thought with gritted teeth, it was meant for him.

Will slammed his fists down on the porcelain sink. The bang echoed down the hall. “Fuck!” Will exclaimed under his breath. The sink was turning black. He thought he was hallucinating until the pain in his hand made him realize he was bleeding. He misjudged the distance in the darkness, and swiped his right hand over the metal faucet with too much force.

Suddenly, he heard the jangle of keys coming down the black corridor. “I’m going to get thrown into a padded cell in isolation for this, aren’t I?” Will groaned into the darkness, not expecting a reply.

“No, Mr. Graham.” Said a voice on the other side of the bars.

Will didn’t look at the dark figure. He wasn’t sure what was real anymore. If he saw the Stag Man standing there, with his blank expression and glowing eyes he would know for sure that he’s just as insane as they all claim him to be.

The metal clank of the door opening sent shivers down Will’s spine. He stood still by the sink, unsure of how to react. Without warning, he felt a warm hand pull down his boxers slightly, and an injection was administered on his ass cheek. Within seconds, he felt drowsy, and unable to stand. The strong arms of the orderly picked Will up bridal style, and carried him to the bed.

“What… What did you give me?” Will words were slurred and slow. Now that his vision was also affected, he wasn’t even sure who he was seeing in front of him.

“Midazolam.” Said the young man very matter of fact.

”My hand,” Will brought his bleeding hand to the orderly’s face. The small light above his bed reflected off the quizzical green eyes. “Please…”

“You can call me Matthew.” He replied, quickly switching from the role of an orderly to that of a nurse as he gently picked up Will’s hand, and reached into his pocket for some disinfectant spray and gauze.

“You didn’t have to sedate me,” Will finally said as Matthew finished cleaning off the wound.

“Didn’t I?” Matthew chuckled, and began wrapping the hand in fresh gauze. Taut but not too tight, Will could tell that the young man knew what he was doing.

Will sighed. Letting his anger control his actions wasn’t going to help him. If he was going to get out of here then he needed to be smarter about it. Hannibal was playing chess while he was playing checkers. He needed to join Hannibal at his own game if he was going to win.

“How come I don’t remember seeing you here when I came to profile Gideon for the murder of the night nurse?”

“I started working here this week,” Matthew replied, tilting his head to the side like one of Will’s dogs.

Will wondered why that question seemed to bemuse the young orderly. “Thank you for this.” Will lifted his bandaged hand up in sincere appreciation. He was sure that he would have been yelled at by whoever was coming to see what all the commotion was about.

“Mr. Graham…” Matthew looked to the floor as he continued, “Please promise me you won’t hurt yourself again or I will have to write this up in an incident report, and they’ll be forced to put you in solitary.”

Will was stunned by Matthew’s request. He just started his new job here but was willing to put it in jeopardy just so Will wouldn’t be thrown into solitary confinement. Will didn’t know what to say so he nodded his head, and that was enough for the young man.

“I’ll come back tomorrow morning to change the gauze, if anyone asks just say you had an accident while shaving.” Matthew picked up Will’s injured hand, and brought it to his lips. “It’ll be our little secret.” He planted a small kiss where some of the blood was seeping through.

By the time Will felt coherent enough to speak, Matthew was long gone into the dark corridor. He pulled the covers over his trembling body, and closed his eyes but no sleep came that night.

#sedated was one i was looking forward to writing #especially after matthew tranquilized hannibal the way he did in mukozuke #he knows his way around benzos #brownham #medwhump may #will graham #fic

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ukrfeminism · 4 months

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Women in the public sector are quitting their jobs due to being blocked from working flexibly with three in ten seeing their requests rejected, according to a major new study.

Researchers at Unison, the UK’s largest trade union, who polled just over 44,000 women working across the public sector, found three in ten working in hospitals, schools, care homes, town halls, police stations and other key services had pleas to work flexibly denied.

Some women said employers told them to leave their job or use annual leave if they want to work flexibly, while others report their requests were immediately blocked on the same day they were put in. Struggles to access flexible working meant some women had quit their jobs, researchers warned.

Christina McAnea, Unison’s general secretary, said: “Too many employers are still turning down flexible working requests, which means the right to request is pretty meaningless for many women. The right to work flexibly from day one would be beneficial for staff and employers alike, and help bring workplaces into the 21st century.”

Helping women juggle work with childcare and caring for loved ones can enable workplaces to recruit for jobs which are tricky to fill and likely boost the quality of public services, she added.

Ms McAnea said: “It’s disheartening to see many employers continuing to deny their staff the opportunity to work flexibly. They have nothing to lose and everything to gain.

"But sadly many women who find they need to inject some flexibility into their working lives are coming up against employers with inconsistent, rigid and unimaginative attitudes. While there’s no one-size-fits-all solution, some form of flexible working is achievable in most workplaces.”

A quarter of those women who were informed they could not change their working conditions say their requests were rejected on a number of occasions.

Researchers also found more than two fifths of women were told they could not work flexibly because doing so would harm the service being provided, while almost three in ten were informed there would not be enough colleagues to cover for them.

A fifth had their request rejected due to managers saying doing so would result in colleagues making similar pleas, while around one in seven were not provided with a reason by their employer.

New flexible working legislation comes into force in April which gives employees a statutory right to ask for flexible working from day one at a new job. While this is an improvement on the current wait of six months to ask, Unison warn employers are too easily able to block flexible working requests.

Emily*, who works in the energy sector, said she only managed to get her flexible return to work from maternity leave agreed just before she was due to return to work.

“The process was horrendous,” she said. “I had to submit several requests and they were all turned down within days. I was stunned. I was caring for my baby and having huge levels of anxiety simply trying to get some flexibility at work. I was scared I’d lose my job. It dragged on so much I couldn’t sort out childcare. The process left me traumatised.”

While Nadia*, a local government worker with a disability, was blocked from working flexibly even though she had medical notes written up by her doctor.

“I had a very supportive manager during the pandemic and we all worked well during that time,” Nadia, a single mother of two, added. “But as the situation eased, my new manager suddenly wanted everybody in the office all the time. Daily attendance then worsened my condition and I had to go off sick for a few months to recover. Being able to work from home on the days I’m struggling would make a huge difference, and also make it easier to look after my children.”

Helen*, a specialist nurse and single mother of three, explained she was repeatedly blocked from working flexibly.

She said: “I had to go down a pay band to get some flexibility, which put me and my family in financial difficulty. I was told if they allowed me to work flexibly they’d have to do the same for others. But others aren’t in my situation.

“I'm a survivor of domestic violence and have no family support. The process was awful and I was made to feel like a massive inconvenience. Now I don’t want to be a nurse any more and am looking for a new job in retail. I’ve had to take time off because of the stress and anxiety I experienced. It shouldn’t be like this as I do love my job.”

*Names changed

#Articles

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silentwillowwhisperer · 8 months

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Shots (the doctory ones)

Ok, wait, I want to clarify that when I say shots, I mean vaccines, not the alcoholic ones or gunshots.

Cool? Cool.

When Lance is forced to get a shot, he shrieks like a child, but he’s mostly being dramatic.

After the ordeal, he’ll go home and be all whiny and use his ‘poor, abused, punctured arms’ as an excuse to make Keith do everything for him.

And Keith would roll his eyes and make a snarky comment, but clearly he’s genuinely worried and would spend the whole week (yes, week) suffocating Lance with care like the closeted mother hen that he is.

Keith, on the other hand, would try to keep a straight face. But he seriously can’t handle it.

Due to his killer immune system, he rarely had to go to the hospital. Also, he usually just toughed it out or fixed it himself when he got injured as a child.

So he’s already on edge thanks to this unfamiliar place full of grumpy adults and children who seem to be leaking mucus from absolutely all places, and now he’s being dragged into a small room by Lance and that lady is smiling at him so bright that he’s 58% sure that she’s a serial killer.

She has the nerve to ask him how his day is going.

So far he has been forced to this horrid place by his traitorous boyfriend (Husband? Are they married yet? Who knows.), been given a headache from the piercing wails of infants, made conversation with a dead looking receptionist with a scar splitting her right nostril (How does that happen?), and called into yet another strange hallway by a random who knows his name (what? Why? Did Lance give away Keith’s identity? Because partners or not, Lance has NOT helped Keith escape this situation yet and he feels utterly betrayed. He expects to be paid in full with cuddles and movie marathons after this is over).

Yeah, Keith’s day has been great, thanks. He decides to ignore Lance frantically shaking his head at the nurse.

Anyway, he makes it through the checkup with only a couple comments about his scars, and he breathes out at last, knowing he’s finally safe.

Lance clears his throat awkwardly.

“Uh.. it’s great to see you relaxed, but you don’t think we’re done yet, do you?”

What.

Screaming seems like an good option right now. Why hadn’t he been listening to the gibberish coming out of the doctor’s mouth? Why was this so much easier last time, when Lance was the one getting a check up?

He can feel Lance’s burning gaze watching him think, but there is a sharp knock on the door an it swings open slowly. The man who walks in is pushing a cart.

On the cart is a tray.

A tray of needles.

Before this point, Keith has been sitting in one of the 2 chairs in the corner of the room. As soon as his eyes land on those evil stabbies, he hops up and settles quickly in Lance’s lap, hiding his face in his boyfriend’s tan neck to block the rest of the room from his vision.

He can feel Lance running his fingers soothingly through Keith’s hair. He grips on tighter just to make sure it won’t stop.

Honestly, Keith can’t decide what’s wrong with himself. He can take a gunshot and keep fighting, be interrogated fiercely by aliens, hunt dangerous species from foreign universes, and yet he can’t look at some needles.

Lance chuckles softly.

“Hey. You have to sit up, you can stay on my lap and close your eyes, but it’s only gonna hurt more if you stay all tense like that.”

Keith raises his head just a bit to stare at Lance with wide, teary eyes. He nods shallowly and flips around so that his back is pressed to Lance’s chest.

Long story short, Lance ends up having to pin Keith’s arms still and hug his chest tightly until all 4 shots have been injected.

Keith only manages to ignore him for about 2 minutes before running over for hugs. He can be petty later, right now he’s been through a traumatic experience and need comfort in the form of Lance the doting boyfriend.

(Does Lance feeding him their stash of Valentine’s chocolates while they watch ‘Legally Blond’ and all three ‘How to Train Your Dragon’s make this all worth it? No.)

(Yes.)

—————————-

This was supposed to be 4 paragraphs long…

Have fun trying to find a plot in this mess : )

I just got 2 shots and a finger prick yesterday, so yes I am projecting. I’m really bad around needles, I can’t even look at cartoon-style pictures for longer than a couple seconds. I almost passed out, but what’s new?

#vld #voltron legendary defender #voltron #keith kogane #lance mcclain #klance #keith vld #vld keith #lance vld #shots #tawny post

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red-bat-arse · 11 months

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Injection Tips for Needle Nervous

From someone who had to deal with a fear of needles while learning how to do testosterone shots. To be clear, I'm 28 years old and have been doing weekly IM injections in my thighs for 18 months.

PREP -Listen to the information given for the possible injection sites; you may prefer or find it easier to deal with IM vs SubQ based on the options your doctor gives you. If you're able, schedule at least 6-8 injection days of clinic visits so a nurse can teach you how to inject properly, and you can take your time absorbing. If you're still nervous, try purchasing a 'shot blocker' since they can help with not feeling the needle. If it's the possible pain that bothers you, I used to pinch hard at the area with my nails to sort of say 'that's what you're expecting, see, it's not that bad!' This technique has also helped me with getting my blood drawn, which to go on T you'll have to deal with as well.

ROUTINE -Once I left the supervision of the clinic nurses and started injecting at home, I made sure to establish a routine. You'll need to find your own, and here's mine for reference; with a little wiggle room (like doing it in the morning if I know I'll be busy in the evening) I stick to the same rhythm every week. Set up my station, use the toilet (you don't want to be antsy handling a needle), press play on a song and wash hands, then my draw system [sanitize stopper, draw, switch needle size, get rid of air bubbles, adjust to relax, sanitize thigh, breathe, inject, pressure with a tissue until the song ends], then I clean up and put the needles immediately in my sharps box. It really helps to know exactly what you're getting into so unexpected changes (like injecting while a little drunk, I don't recommend this but it might happen) are easier to handle.

DISCIPLINE -I put on a 5 minute song and do my whole routine in that time, it works for me. Too short and you'll feel rushed, too long and you might procrastinate, so get into the habit. I give myself a four hour window and as soon as I feel like I could do it, I go for it.

CHILL -As mentioned, I put on a song, for me stoner metal or blues works the best since it soothes and zones me in. I do my shot in the evening so if I freak out a bit I can just go to bed. I put on my comfiest layers and have a treat after, too.

EXPERIMENT -While there are aspects of it all you must do a certain way, you won't always know the best way to do things for yourself of available options even once you've been taught, so let yourself feel it out. I was shown the quick jab method at first to get over my hesitation, but now I find I feel it less if I insert the needle slowly. I switched from 25G to 22G needles when the smaller size proved more difficult to inject due to the consistency of testosterone, and I also found a shorter needle length got rid of some residual anxiety over the actual insertion part. I used to do everything in the morning and now I solely do it in the evening. You can change some parts of the process to make yourself feel better!

FRIEND -I've got an assistant who sits on my other leg while I go through my routine, his name is Snippers;

And I've found I'm less jittery with him there and my heart races less in the preamble to actually piercing skin. I keep him with me afterwards especially if I had a harder time than usual, which can happen even after doing this a long time.

And lastly;

BELAY THAT -Give yourself an out. Besides a situation like if I run out before my prescription can get refilled, I told myself I could skip one (1) injection per year, if I was having a super bad time and just couldn't. So far I haven't had to use it -at the most I've just waited until the next evening. My doctor has said that's fine and I don't have to inform her if I skip once, but that might not be the same for everyone. Either way I think giving yourself breathing room is essential to take the pressure off -self-injecting might be affirming, but it isn't always fun or easy!

I also think it should go without saying that these tips are things that have helped based on my own personal experience from the past year and a half. It's fine if they don't work for you or you don't think they're helpful at all -the trans* experience is wide and varied. I'm also not giving anyone medical advice -always learn how to properly administer your medication from a professional. Here is an article about general HRT self injection that may be some help.

But, if you do have difficulty with needles, hopefully this gave you some tips and tricks that could make the process feel more manageable.

#hrtips #trans hrt #hrt #injection tips #hrt injection tips #trans #transsexual #transgender #trans*#trans problems #injection tw #needle tw #testosterone #estrogen

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emmymaehereeeeee · 2 years

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First Round of Shots

summary: Lottie Mae gets her shots for the first time ever

word count: 702

warnings: mentions of needles, injection sites, prepping skin for injection, use of syringe, giving a shot.

“Alright Ms.Charlotte Mae, I know you are not gonna like this not one bit but I’ve got to give you a few shots.” The nurse opened the cabinet and began to grab the supplies needed for the injection.

Elvis laid Lottie across his lap, “You know your daddy, he ain’t too fond of them shots neither.” He stroked her face with his ring-clad hand, “But daddy is here, he ain’t gonna let nothing bad happen to you.” He looked over to you with eyes filled with fear, “She’s gonna cry- gonna squeal so loud. She doesn’t really need ‘em today does she?”

Shaking your head, “If you want me to hold her I can, baby. No, she is due for her first round of shots today.” Standing up from your chair you walked over to your newborn daughter, “You’re a strong girl, aren’t you, Lottie?” You asked the infant who responded with a gurgle. “She’s going to be just fine, Elvis.”

“Alright Dad, do you mind bringing her over to the table?” The nurse asked whilst pulling on a pair of gloves.

“Oh Lord, here we go Lottie Mae, here we go.” Standing from his seat he brought the little girl over to the examination table, carefully laying her down on her back. “Now it’s gonna hurt not a whole lot- just a tiny bit.” He continued to reassure the infant who had wrapped her tiny hand around his finger, “Just hold onto me.”

The nurse ripped open the alcohol wipe and wiped Lottie’s leg off, she then uncapped the needle.

“Jesus Christ, you hafta get such a big needle? I mean she’s barely a month old, good Lord.” His eyes widened at the sight of the needle, “Looks like a horse needle, goodnight a livin’!”

The nurse laughed softly and assured the frantic father, “Mr. Presley, I assure you this is the standard size for this type of injection.” Placing the needle against the skin of Lottie’s thigh she counted, “One, two, three.”

Elvis counted with her in unison and watched as she pushed the plunger down, he winced as he heard Lottie’s shrill cries. “Oh I know it, I know!”

“Alright I’ve got two more, Dad- you all right?” The nurse placed a hand on Elvis’s back, “You’re looking a little pale- um Mom do you want to step in?”

“I'm alright, I’m just fine.” He replied, “Two more, Lottie I know it hurts.” He looked down at the infant who was writhing on the table. The nurse gave Lottie the second shot and Elvis cried harder than Lottie, “I’m sorry, princess. Daddy is sorry, I know it hurts, one more.”

The nurse turned to you and said, “I just feel horrible, I know she hates it but Dad is making me feel even worse.” She smiled and laughed and you did too. “Alright, last one! Are you ready dad?”

Elvis nodded and looked back at Lottie, “You can do it, baby girl. I know you can, just look at me, Oh God Lottie that’s a big needle.” He whimpered out and squeezed his eyes shut.

“Big poke in one, two, three.” The nurse pushed the plunger down and slowly pulled the needle away, “You did it!” She placed a bandage on all of the injection sites, “Awesome job, dad!”

Elvis lifted Lottie of the table and held her close, her wails only exceeded with the swift motion, “I know baby, I know. It’s all over now, we’re gonna go home now, okay?” He pressed kisses to her tiny hands, “I’m sorry, sweet baby.”

You thanked the nurse and moved to be by his side, “You did good, honey. Even though if I hadn’t known I would have thought you were the one getting the shots.” You teased him, quickly pressing a kiss to his cheek.

Lottie’s wails soon quieted down and she slipped off to sleep, the three of you made your way out to the parking lot. “Hold on, doll- let me get the door for you.” Elvis pulled open the car door and you placed Lottie in her carseat. “I ain’t ever coming back to one of these, not if she’s gotta get shots.”

“Oh hush.”

#emmymaewrites💜#elvis the pelvis #elvis presley #elvis movie #elvis x reader #elvis imagine #elvis presley x reader

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