#i have altered parts of this excerpt bc i'm not yet willing to share the depravity to which my brain went to re Obi-Wan's symptoms lmao

[kenobster]

For the WIP Game when you have time: Skin and Sores and Bones.

You have discovered the sequel to Five Peggats Each!! :D And it's also perfect you chose it because this will be the many words of recovery arcs I promised you XD Here is a taste:

Obi-Wan takes the flimsipad back. His hand trembles with a hint of pain as he writes, even though the penmanship remains immaculate. Many reasons, it says when he's done. Hadn’t decided yet. Probably wouldn’t have. The phrase not your fault is now underlined twice. For a long time, Anakin thinks about that—about the many reasons. He thinks about it as he stares around the medbay. When the lights are on, like they are now, the walls shine a burning, sterile white. The dull gray of the metal counter, cabinets, and exam table are the only accents of color. Even though Anakin stacked much of the room's contents onto the counter, bandages, bacta patches, and other nonlethal medical supplies remain scattered around the floor. It's a mess of reminders—of their injuries and, by extension, their injuries' source.  He thinks about it as he studies Obi-Wan’s makeshift bed. Though the colorless white blankets are warm and soft, the surface of the durasteel floor radiates an icy chill. The fabric of Obi-Wan’s trousers are caught in uncomfortable-looking clumps where they meet the bands of the brace Anakin printed for him. His robes reek of excrement, sweat, and urine—not because Anakin hasn’t thoroughly cleaned them, but because some stains get so woven into the fabric that they never wash away completely—and somehow, Obi-Wan has avoided every opportunity to change them. Anakin chews his lip.  Maybe this room was their best option days ago. They were exhausted. Could barely hold their eyes open. Gauze and antibiotics and painkillers and bacta patches and flesh glue were all in one place and within easy reach. The reality of opening their eyes to something that wasn’t fucking them was relief enough back then. Back then, sweaty, filthy, gummy robes were the least of their worries. Maybe this room is not their best option anymore. Maybe being able to sleep in peace isn't enough anymore.

I used to have a bad habit of injuring my characters (i.e. breaking their bones, etc.) and then promptly forgetting all about it (i.e. next scene, magically unbroken lmao). As a result, whenever I write anything, I keep an ongoing list of physical conditions so I can make sure they're continuously considered. The amount of injuries for this fic though is absolutely insane. The amount of medical research I have done to wrap my head around what is a livable injury, an at-home-treatable injury, a requires-surgical-attention injury, and/or can-be-scifi'd injury is insane.

Idk how I'm gonna pull it off, but one thing is for sure: there is no way we are getting Anakin's shoulder back into its socket without a doctor. which means we are not getting it back into its socket at all for a looooong time.

(Also someone needs to get Obi-Wan anti-depressants)