#wound care cw

[luck-of-the-drawings]

OOOH BABY THIS ONE WAS A LONG TIME COMING. NIGHTMARE NIGHTMARE NIGHTMARE!!

YOU THOUGHT IT WAS A DAY LIKE ANY OTHER. A DAY OF ADVENTURE WITH YOUR CLOSEST FRIENDS. OH HOW TIGHTLY YOU HOLD THEM TO YOUR CHEST, AND OH HOW TERRIFYING IT IS TO WATCH THEM GET EVISCERATED BY SOMETHING YOU DONT UNDERSTAND. MAYBE IF YOU JUST LISTENED A BIT MORE, IF YOU LET THE SMART ONE LEAD THE CHARGE, THIS WOULDNT HAVE HAPPENED. ONCE AGAIN YOUR IMPULSIVENESS LEADS TO DISASTER. HEAR ME NOW, YOUNG TIDESTRIDER, YOUR STUPIDITY WILL BRING THE DEMISE OF EVERYTHING YOU WERE BORN AND FORGED TO PROTECT. HOW COULD THE PROPHECY HAVE CHOSEN SOMEONE SO USELESS? I BET YOU WISH YOU CHOSE THE RIGHT LEVER. FAILURE.

[sleepyfan-blog]

Injuries and Boundaries

Author's note: this is the next fic in Cedric's adventures in the husbandry AU! Thanks to @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan for letting me borrow Hura! first. previous. next

tagged:  @egrets-not-regrets @kit-williams @bleedingichorhearts @i-am-a-dragon34

warnings: corporal punishment, wound treatment, blood

Summary: More injured Black Templars show up at the clinic causing trouble. Cedric's asked to help wrangle and treat them.

"Cedric... We've got more feral injured Black Templars who refused to be treated by anyone but another Son of Dorn. Do you mind taking them? Normally we'd have them wait, but all five of them are actively bleeding, and their sergeant is really twitchy." Misty, one of the human aides who worked in the Astartes-run medical clinic that Cedric worked in asked. "We've managed to herd them into one of the larger exam rooms, but they're still very tightly wound up. "

Cedric heaved a sigh, shaking his head a little. This was the second group of badly injured Black Templars who've shown up in the clinic within a month. This did not bode well, especially as it seems as though multiple Black Templar warbands seem to be gathering near or in this city for... Throne knew what reason. "I'll tend to them. Just let me finish my lunch real quick. It shouldn't take more than a minute or two."

"Thank you, Cedric." The medical assistant answered, sagging gratefully in relief before leaving. 

The young apothecary glanced around the room, double checking that no one else was around before vox-calling Ramiel "There are more injured Feral Black Templars in the clinic. Please warn our older Bruders and encourage our fellow Primaris marines to keep away from the base until this city is clear."

"... Sure, but what about you, Cedric? You should either hunker down with one of our older brothers, or ask Apothecary Hura if he has a mission out of the city that he'd like you to complete as a favor or something." Ramiel responded, a frown on his face "I'm still on the chaplains' retreat, but I know that you're not safe right now. You're going to get yourself to safety, right?"

"I'll be careful, and if I can't be careful, I will be smart, You don't need to worry, Rami. I'll be fine. Remember, we figured out that I survived the longest Back There, of the five of us. I didn't even get killed to be sent back to Ancient Terra." Which was a damn sight better than his fellow Primaris marines. "But I've got antsy patients to deal with. Be sure to message bruders Roland and Arnault they need to know, if they don't know already." He suspected that Roland and Arnault were exiled from many of the Black Templar Crusades because of them embracing their bonds with their mortals... And despite the fact that the bonds were warp-creations, those bonds and their humans made them so happy, brought out the best in both of them. Why shun them for it? It made no sense to Cedric.

"I will... but I will also tell them that you're treating feral templars who might hurt you if they take a notion! So they will make sure that you are safe too!" Ramiel growled out, and he could hear the stubborn glare on the other's face.

"Honestly, I am fairly safe within the clinic. I am one shout away from dozens of well-trained first-born cousins who won't hesitate to sedate and restrain a rampaging Cousin." Cedric sighed before ending the vox-call with Ramiel. He really hoped that the stubborn Justicar didn't rile up their older brothers. Roland and Arnault could get very protective when the mood struck. 

Cedric knocked on the closed door to the exam room that the older Black Templars had been brought into, waiting for a moment before entering the room, closing the door behind himself as he took in the sight before him. 

Three of the firstborn Black Templars were pacing around the examination room in a standard patrol cycle, while the other two were sitting on the exam room table, leaning into each other with their eyes closed, breathing shallowly.

Cedric could smell the coppery tang of blood in the air, saw the tense, tight ways that these older brothers were holding themselves and knew that each of them was in a tremendous amount of pain. He asked "Would any of you like something for the pain you are in? I will need to treat your wounds, which is going to hurt more. I have both spray-on pain reducers which may be applied to the wounds you have directly, depending on what kind of wounds you have, injectable pain killers, or a pill to take orally. Do you have preferences, if any?"

The five firstborn templars stopped what they were doing and looked him over silently for several long, and awkward feeling eternities (which was probably closer to a minute, perhaps two, but it felt as if they dragged their silent appraisal of him for so very long). The Sergeant stepped forward and slightly to the right, blocking Cedric's view of the two sitting on the medical table. "I am Sergeant Alois Zimmer of the Sprechembriech Crusade. Identify yourself, Apothecary." His well-muscled arms were crossed defensively over his chest. He had a large blade sheathed on his left hip, a bolter on the right. 

"I am Cedric, an Apothecary of the Black Templars." The Primaris marine stated. Technically he was also supposed to identify that he was both an apprentice and a Primaris Marine during this formal declaration but these firstborn brothers were wound very tightly. He didn't recognize these older brothers, and there was a high likelihood that they would have no idea what a Primaris was. They would, however, recognize that he was an apprentice and might start asking all sorts of obnoxious questions, which would delay their treatments and getting out of Cedric's hair before Arnault showed up, blade in hand and glaring at everyone who moved because Ramiel had wound up the Emperor's Champion. Again.

"Which Crusade are you part of?" Zimmer asked, looking him over closely "And where is your armor? Also... We aren't soft enough to need pain meds. Start patching up the two on the table."

"Came to Ancient Terra without any, as I was brought here in my sleeping clothes. I'm not part of an established Crusade. I haven't been on Ancient Terra long enough." Cedric answered, grabbing a wound repair kit from the cabinet and slowly approaching the two injured brothers on the exam table, not wanting to startle anyone. He opened the kit. It was unlikely that he was going to be part of one of the roving warbands of feral Black Templars. He liked having regular contact with his fellow Primaris Marines, and he sincerely doubted that he would be allowed to interact with two probable-outcasts. Even if one of them is an Emperor's Champion. "I got found by an Ultramarine and brought to the nearby Imperial Fist base and have been in this city ever since."

"That is some Lamenters level luck there, Brother." One of the other firstborn brothers calls out, before dodging the sergeant's reprimanding swat from Zimmer. 

Cedric very carefully did not react as he pulled up one of the older Black Templar's shirts, revealing that his back was a mess of bleeding flogging markings, and the characteristic bruising and claw-marks of a mark 9 power fist.

"Quiet, Illus. No need to wind up the lad." Zimmer looked at him steadily for a couple of seconds before asking "From the look on your face, I am guessing you know the kinds of wounds all of us are suffering from. It was not our Chaplain who inflicted these wounds, and our Crusade Leader ordered us to get treatment. Are you willing to patch us up, or should we wait for the Fist Apothecary they've summoned from the base?"

"I'll treat your wounds. I do have a question, though. If this wasn't ordered by your chaplain, nor the leader of your crusade, how did you come by these wounds?" Cedric asked, biting back panic and nausea, his hands rock-steady as he treated their wounds one at a time, and step by step. Check, clean, bandage. Rinse and repeat, until every injury on each of the five marines was properly treated to.

"Miles here ran afoul of a different Crusade's chaplain when he swiped one of the little sweet treats that the bastard had a whole bag of. He was about to eat it when the chaplain appeared out of fucking nowhere and started screaming his bloody head off. Miles gave back the treat and tried to apologize, but Petras wasn't having any of it and started beating the shite out of him. Jamison and Illus tried to step in and got beat for their trouble. Neval voxxed me before distracting the furious fucker to keep the others from beaten until they couldn't move. By Him on Terra I've never seen a chaplain that furious before that fast. Ever."

Cedric couldn't help the full-body flinch that Petras in a temper provoked from him as an automatic reaction. Nor the momentary cringe as his body wanted to curl around itself defensively. He shook off the response and continued treating the injured. "He is... Very possessive of his food and gets highly aggressive, from what I remember of him. Especially of fast carbs like sugary sweets. That was before we were both brought to Ancient and Holy Terra... not that I think he is aware I am here."

"Ah. So you're from the same time period he is? If I had Brothers from the same time here on Ancient Terra, I'd seek them out. No offense to you lads, but it'd be nice to have Brothers like that with me, as a grounding force." Illus piped up, his eyes wide.

"Chaplain Petras is... Not someone whom I would call grounding or reassuring." Cedric's mouth said before he could stop himself. "Besides there's a good chance the he'd-" Nope, shutting that line of thought down right now. "Let's just say that he and I don't get along very well."

"Given that he's a heavy hand with punishment and your entire life's purpose is to keep us patched up and in fighting shape, I can imagine." The sergeant sighed, shaking his head a little. 

"That's not the primary reason we don't get along, although that's part of it. Do you have any neophytes or aspirants in your warband?" Cedric asked, trying to project a sense of calm that he did not at all feel.

Hura and Zariel had talked with him, and near him about patterns of behavior in certain kinds of older brothers and cousins. And how these behaviors, for good or ill, could, and often did, spill over to how they reacted on Ancient Terra. Just because Petras favored killing- or nearly killing Primaris Marines that are between Neophyte to Battle Brother age, doesn’t mean he wouldn’t go after First Borns of the same age range. Or- so that thought suddenly seized Cedric with a cold, terrifying clarity.’Is that what they had been hinting at?’

"... Why are you asking that? We're looking for a couple of Apprentice-aged Black Templars, as a matter of fact. From what we've heard, they're being held hostage somewhere. Probably in one of the chaos bases, those foul bastards. We do have a couple, why do you ask?" Illus asked, eyes narrowing a little.

"Because he killed a dozen of Apprentices who were not found in need of culling due to disobedience, chaos-taint or xenos-worship. But merely because he was in a foul mood and they happened to be in his furious path." Cedric warned him "Do not allow him access to your youngest members without supervision with the ability and will to intervene on their behalf."

"That... That's... That's a hell of a thing to accuse any brother of, much less a chaplain, boy. Do you have proof?" Alois spluttered, staggering back a half step, his dark eyes widening in horror.

"... Four of the apprentices he beat to death in the 41st millennium ended up on Holy Terra, mostly dead. I was able to respond in time and get them to treatment for two of them so that they survived the experience. The other two died in my arms. Again. I brought them to the base so that their bodies could be properly processed and their geneseed and intact organs stored, for later use." Cedric answered, fighting back the tears and the bitter taste of failure in his mouth. "Between the three of us, we have enough physical scars left from his heavy-handed punishments to get him censured at least, should we come forward. If he were to be prosecuted."

"What do you mean, if? What, do you think because his alleged crimes were committed Before, that he wouldn't be punished for it? Or because he technically was punished by it - leading to him being sent to Ancient and Holy Terra - he wouldn't be punished here? And how do I know that he wasn't culling unworthy-" The Sergeant started to speak.

"So you and the five brothers you brought into this clinic to be treated fully deserved the punishment that Chaplain Petras handed to you, did you?" Cedric asked. "In the 41st millennium, it is standard post-punishment procedure for those with the injuries to tend to their own wounds, without medical aid or intervention. To heal on their own, or fester if they are deemed unworthy in the eyes of the Emperor Himself to heal properly. So which is it, sergeant? Are you seeking treatment for wounds you received after being justly punished and thus are seeking to undo it? Or were you punished excessively by a chaplain with a heavy hand?"

"What happened to us, versus what happened to your fellow Apprentices could be two completely different situations" Zimmer protested, his eyes narrowing a little at Cedric as he spoke. 

Cedric resisted the temptation to growl at the older Black Templar, righteous indignation and fury making it really difficult for him to think. He crossed his arms over his chest and took a step back "So you say. You have given me no proof that you and your squad were punished unjustly. The only thing I have to go on is your word. Per the traditions of our Chapter, I should kick you out of this examination room and report you to not just the captain you obey, but the chaplain whose punishment you are trying to circumvent by coming here for wound treatment."

“Sarge… Just… Call the captain. I’d rather you not piss off the only known Black Templar Apothecary within a hundred miles of this place. He can refuse to treat us, you do know that, right?” Miles groaned from where he was laying face down on the examination bed, his back a mess of bloody wounds, some of them still bleeding.

“He… You wouldn’t, would you?” Zimmer growled, taking a half-step towards Cedric before pausing. Even with the older Templar in the bottom half of his armor and Cedric fully unarmored, the young Apothecary was still a good foot and a half taller than the Sergeant.

“You come into this clinic, demanding to be seen by a Black Templar Apothecary or another Son Of Dorn, causing a huge scene and disrupting the schedule that some of our Ultramarine allies have carefully made. You inform me of who did this to you, and when I give you a warning about his likely temper and behaviors you disregard them out of hand. So whyever would you trust my medical opinions and suggestions?” Cedric hissed, doing his best to keep the fury and frustration out of his voice. “I have half a mind to leave the five of you here and get an older apothecary to handle you all, since clearly you won’t listen to a single thing I say if it’s not what you want to hear!”

“Fine then. I don’t want a brat who’s throwing a temper tantrum to treat me or my Brothers, anyways! You sure you aren’t an Emperor’s Child with short hair and blue eyes?” Zimmer hissed, glaring up at him “Because you sure tantrum like one!”

Don’t attack your patients, no matter how much they upset you unless they physically attack you first.

Is one of the rules that he had been told over and over again. Cedric had thought that this would be difficult to keep to when dealing with Chaos Astartes. Right now, all he wanted to do was to launch Zimmer through the window and wash his hands of the smug bastard Sargeant. Instead he stated “Fine then. I’ll get the senior-most Apothecary who is working at the clinic today. He isn’t a Son of Dorn, but he is very, very good at what he does.” His lips twitch a little in vicious mirth as he voxxed “Apothecary Hura, would you please come to Group Examination room Two please? I am having difficulties with a squad of injured Astartes and require your insight and expertise.”

The door opened without a sound, slowly revealing the oversized and clearly Chaos-aligned Death Guard Apothecary. Hura’s helmet was off and he smiled pleasantly at Cedric “I just so happened to be passing by this room when you called me, young Cedric. Dealing with unruly patients is a difficult skill to master, especially since they are in a group like this.”

“You’re joking. This is a threat. Look, kid I get that we may have -” Zimmer started, going very pale as he stared up at Hura, a look of slow-dawning horror on his face.

Hura interrupted the sergeant, saying “Ah-ah-ah! Bad and naughty patients don’t get to be treated by adorable young apothecaries doing their best to patch up ungrateful bastards. They get to deal with me.” This is said with a serene smile that sent terrified shivers through all five of the injured Templars simultaneously. 

“Hey… Uhm… Some… Some of us didn’t actively antagonize the younger medic and are hoping to maybe get patched up by him instead?” Miles asked, having slowly and painfully gotten up to his feet.

“I’ll deal with these five. You go on, and have your lunch. Shoo! You should be on-break anyways.” Hura instructed Cedric, having entirely ignored what the Black Templar had said. “Shoo! Taking appropriate breaks is important.”

Cedric nodded, smiling gratefully at Hura “Thank you, Apothecary Hura…Though are you sure I shouldn’t stay and assist you? I won’t be able to learn how to deal with difficult patients if I avoid them altogether.”

“A different time, young Cedric. They have already been quite bothersome and entitled by the way they burst into the waiting room and demanded immediate treatment by a specific set of chapters. They also need to learn that sometimes, there are consequences to their words and actions. And trying to treat patients while hungry is difficult. Go on, young one.”

“You… You’re not going to abandon us to him, are you? He’s a heretic! A Chaotic Traitor!” Illus called out, eyes wide and pleading as he looked at Cedric.

“Apothecary Hura has over ten-thousand years of medical experience, and is more than qualified to treat your injuries. You won’t listen to the warnings I gave you about the one who injured you like this, so why would you listen to me about how to care for your injuries?” Cedric answered, his voice an icy approximation of calm. “Thank you for taking over their care, Apothecary Hura, I leave them in your capable hands.” With that he turned on his heel and left the exam room, closing the door behind him.

[zanazirafanfic]

Summary: "'Mierda…' Javier whispered behind his hand, sounding like he might be sick. Even Charles, who unquestionably possessed the strongest constitution of the four of them, couldn't quite manage to keep the look of horrified disgust off of his face, though he carefully schooled his expression back into a mask of calm by the time Sean removed his other boot and looked up at him.

'I, eh… warned ya it weren't a pretty sight, boys,' Sean said with a shaky laugh, as if that weren't the understatement of the goddamn century.

'Not a pretty sight? Sean, they… what the hell did they do to you?'"

Arthur, Charles, and Javier come to Sean's rescue outside Blackwater after his capture by bounty hunters. Unfortunately, he's a little worse for wear than they expected.

Whumpcember 2023 Day 13: "Restraints" + "Collapse"

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Rating: Teen & Up Audiences Category: Gen Fandom: Red Dead Redemption Relationships: Sean MacGuire & Arthur Morgan & Javier Escuella & Charles Smith Characters: Arthur Morgan, Sean MacGuire, Charles Smith, Javier Escuella Chapters: 1/1 Word Count: 3,110

@photo1030 @cassietrn @meeks-just-wants-to-scroll

[alpacacare-archive]

*sees gasters sprite or a drawing of him*

Haha funny grandpa

*remembers 'the gash weaves down as if you cry'*

[the-good-luck-anomaly]

WOUND UNDER THE CUT. CW FOR WOUND

[voiceoffenrisulfr]

Chapter Eleven - "Every Time I Slip Into the Ocean, it's Like Going Home."

The boys live with the after-effects of the kidnapping, and how to move forward… Together. CW: Discussion of gunshot wounds and captivity, non-graphic medical care, smut, AAAALLLL the smut. Full smut warnings in prompts.

Prompts used (contains spoilers); - ‘Thigh Riding’ – @anyfandomfluffbingo; - “Aw, You’re Blushing.” – @anyfandomgoesbingo Any Fandom Kink Bingo; - “Kiss Me”– @buckybarnesbingo (B005); - ‘Dry Humping’, ‘Deep Throating’ – @buckybarnesevents Build-a-Bucky Bingo (July); - “Take Your Meds, Baby.”– Bug’s First Bingo; - “Is this okay?”, ‘Taking Hair Behind Their Ear’ – @eclipsingbingo; - ‘Hugs from Behind’ – Eclipsing Bingo (Dark Version); - “Anything You Want” – Eclipsing Bingo (Flash);

-  ‘Masturbation’, ‘Submissive Lover’, ‘Voyeur’ - @fandom-free-bingo (Flight Edition); - ‘Glorious’ – Gen Prompt Bingo; - ‘Held at Gunpoint to  ‘Taking Their Mind Off of it’ – @sweetspicybingo Hurt/Comfort Bingo; - ‘Kink: Exhibitionism’ – @julybreakbingo (5x5), - ‘Flutter’ – July Break Bingo (6x6); - “Does it Hurt?”, ‘Giggling while kissing or nervous kissing’ – July Break Bingo (7x7); - ‘Fingers in Mouth or Hand Over Mouth’, ‘Obsessive Love’ – July Break Bingo (Kofi Exclusive); – “I’m Going to Take Care of You, Okay?” - July Break Bingo (Kofi Exclusive); - ‘Love as Appreciation’ – July Break Bingo (Summer);

- ‘Fingering’, ‘Handjobs’, ‘Stripping’, ‘Worship’, ‘Cock Warming’, Praise Kink’ – @kinky-things-happen; - ‘Butterflies in Their Stomach’ – @seasonaldelightsbingo Language of Flowers; - ‘Trans!Character’ – @lgbtqbingo; - Space is Magic’ – @multifandom-flash - Astronomy Day + National Space Day; - ‘Sweat Together’ – Multifandom Flash Bingo – New Year (NSFW); - 'Vampire Hickey' - Multifandom Flash Bingo - Halloween (5037); - ‘Bite of Affection’ – Multifandom Flash Bingo - Valentine’s Day; - ‘First Time’ – Pre-July Break Flash Bingo; - ‘Fuck Away the Pain’ – @sebastianstanbingo.

Check it out below, or on AO3 here! Boards not included because there's too many XD, divider by yours truly <3

In the end, Greg was in the hospital for almost two weeks – and even then, he was only released because of his own pushing, despite my objections.

Two days later, we were back aboard the Whisper, his eyes closed as he stood with his hands on the wheel, thumbs smoothing the grooves worn by his own touch over the years. I watched reverently as he took a long, deep breath, filling his lungs with the scent of salt-encrusted wood and sun-warmed seawater. The motion made him wince minutely, a guilty grimace crossing my own features at this discomfort.

“Take your meds, baby,” I murmured, leaning up to press a gentle kiss to his jaw and offering him the bottle I kept permanently handy, constantly alert of any sign of pain.

With a soft chuckle, he tossed back a couple of pills, returning the bottle to me with a grateful smile. He leaned closer to skim his lips over mine, fingers cupping my chin tenderly. “I love you, Snowflake,” he breathed, and I sighed happily, lost in the sparkle of sunlight on water reflected in the depths of his mahogany eyes. He’d told me he loved me dozens of times by now, but it still made my stomach fizz with delight. I couldn’t get enough, and I found myself going out of my way to do things for him – both as an expression of my own adoration, and in the hope of hearing those words once more.

“I love you too, Lieutenant Tyne,” I sighed, fingers tightening a little against his back. Alongside everything else, his declaration of love had me more eager for him than ever. It was taking conscious effort to keep my touches innocent and chaste; I knew that at the subtlest sign of my need for him, he’d disregard any thought for his wellbeing and would have had his way with me in his hospital bed.

But now we were back where we were meant to be, he was cleared for light exercise, and I couldn’t stop the grip tangling in his tank top, earning an amused raise of his eyebrow. “Easy, sweet boy, or I won’t be around to set sail… Though it wouldn’t be hard to convince me not to care,” he added with a purr, burrowing his face in my neck to trail his lips tenderly along my throat. I let out a light-hearted, world-weary sigh as my head fell back, fingers reluctantly unwrapping from his shirt.

“Fine, fine,” I murmured, eyelids fluttering in pleasure and resisting the temptation to pout when he drew away. One hand still rested on the wheel of his beloved ship, and I snorted, shaking my head fondly. “Welcome back, Captain.”

The day passed in a blur of sun and sea, the ocean mercifully calm for our return. I relished in watching my love come back to life, brightening further with each lungful of salted air and called order. We’d received many well-wishes and exclamations of relief at our safety – but the crew, much like their Captain, seemed largely occupied with getting back to normal.

The fresh air and return to manual labour proved exhausting, and by the time the sun went down, I was more than happy to lean against the railing, letting out a heavy, contented sigh.

“Hey, beautiful.”

A gentle hand rested on the small of my back, and I smiled softly, eyes closing in bliss. “Good evening, my Captain.”

His arms wrapped around me, holding me carefully to his chest and nuzzling into my hair. “A good one indeed,” he agreed, resting his chin on my shoulder lightly. I tipped my head back to stare up at the stars beginning to fade into view overhead, beautifully content.

“I love you,” I murmured, my arm draping over his with a happy shiver.

“I love you too, my beautiful boy,” he purred, holding me a little tighter to him. “Are you coming to bed, sweetheart? I’ve missed sleeping beside you.”

I looked to him with an adoring smile, heart picking up a little at the thought of finally being nested in beside him once more – and surprising him with my newfound readiness. I was nervous – afraid, almost – but I felt safe with this man who would risk his life for me. The steadily healing wound in his chest was a tactile testament to his desire to protect me, and I trusted him with my heart and body unerringly.

With a soft nod, I melted further against him, humming contentedly. “I’ve missed you too, Sailor… Please take me to bed.” During his time in hospital, I’d slept in a chair by his bedside, clinging to his hand unwaveringly – but it had been weeks since I had curled up beside him for an easy night sleep, and I couldn’t wait to feel him pressed up against me once more.

He sighed happily, fingers lacing through mine to lead me away from the rail and across the empty deck towards his quarters. Most of the crew was sleeping, but I spotted Neri reclining by the helm, taking the night shift while her Captain got some rest.

Though not too much, if I got my way.

The second the door closed, my mouth found his again, hungry and insistent. A soft groan escaped him as he acquiesced all too willingly, hand tangling in my hair to hold me closer. He hummed in surprise as I nudged him gently backwards, the back of his knees touching against the bed. Lowering himself eagerly, he trembled with pleasure as I straddled his lap, hands resting gingerly on his chest. “I want you,” I breathed, dropping my head to trail gentle kisses along his jaw.

“You’ve got me, baby. Always,” he hummed absently, fingers curling against my hips. I chuckled softly, drawing back to brush my lips lightly against his.

“I want you to touch me,” I clarified, forehead resting gently against my Captain’s. His eyes widened infinitesimally, a nervous tongue darting out to probe his lower lip.

“You do?” he pressed, thumbs caressing his hips lightly, smiling  when I offered him a firm nod.

“Yes. Please,” I added, arms shifting to wrap around his neck. “Make me feel good, Lieutenant Tyne.”

His fingers entwined in my hair, holding me to him as he kissed me deeply. “Anything you want, beautiful,” he murmured, eyes dancing and hips twitching. I felt my cheeks colour as his arousal pressed against me, and he smirked. “Aw… You’re blushing.” I turned ever redder, and he chuckled, reaching to brush a strand of hair from my cheek and tuck it tenderly behind my ear. “You’re so beautiful when you blush for me, Snowflake.”

Despite myself, I couldn’t help but smile at that, fingers smoothing the nape of his neck gently. “Kiss me, Captain.”

With a soft, guttural groan, he obliged eagerly, his free hand finding the small of my back to hold me closer as his mouth me mine with something akin to desperation. The sound of enthusiastic need that escaped me would’ve had me blushing once more had I any capacity for such things; instead, I simply continued to whimper hungrily as he guided my body to the sheets, settling beside me to move closer, the straining in his pants evident. His leg pressed between mine, and I gasped sharply, drawing back to drink in air as he gently worked his thigh against me. Even through several layers, the sensation had me trembling and rutting, hands grasping with a feral need to have him closer He smirked against my mouth, rumbling happily. “So desperate, sweetheart… Look at you squirm.”

I whined under my breath, arching against him. “I need you…”

He tutted quietly, grinning. “Oh, sweet boy. I’m going to take my time with you – and you’re going to do exactly what I tell you to, d’you hear me?” I nodded frantically, and he smiled, cupping my hip a little harder, fingers pressing into my skin. “I’m going to take care of you, okay?”

I nodded again, sighing happily as his mouth trailed slowly over my jaw and down my throat, hands pushing up under my shirt to tug it over my head. Lips moving lower, he traced the scars over my chest, and paused to press a tender kiss to the puckered, raised ridge of still-healing skin where the bullet had clipped me. My fingers wrapped in his hair as he unbuttoned my pants, sliding them patiently down my legs, trailing kisses up my calf slowly and earning a quiet hum of joy. His fingertips curled in my waistband, and I trembled, bringing him to a halt as he glanced up at me, resting his cheek gently on the soft skin at the inside of my thigh. “Is this okay?” he breathed, earning a nervous, eager smile.

“Very, very okay,” I reassured him, hand finding his hair and smoothing tenderly. He beamed, pressing an adoring kiss to my thigh as he eased my underwear down, dark eyes locked on mine.

It wasn’t until my boxers had been carelessly tossed over his shoulder that he rocked back onto his heels, swallowing visibly as he took me in. “Glorious,” he murmured, voice thick with reverence and he gestured absently toward the pillows. “More up the bed, sweetheart.” I blushed, shuffling obligingly, and his hands found my knees to push them gently further apart. My skin erupted in goosebumps at the exposure, feeling the wetness between my legs increase at the heat of his gaze on me. “Touch yourself for me, sweet boy. Show me what you like,” he purred, one hand dropping to grind against the straining in his pants.

I let out a soft, eager whimper, my own fingers trailing down my body to slowly caress myself, groaning aloud. “You make me so wet, Captain Tyne…” I whispered, grinning at his sharp, audible intake of breath. His enthusiasm spurred me on, and I sighed in pleasure, legs falling further apart to offer more of myself to his hungry gaze as a fingertip teased my entrance. “I can’t wait for you to finally be the first one to stretch out my tight pussy…”

He ground out a groan, undoing his belt deftly and squeezing his length through the cotton of his underwear. “Fuck – that filthy mouth with get you everywhere, baby.”

I smirked, arching as I slipped a finger inside myself slowly. “I wanna see that big, thick cock, Lieutenant Tyne,” I purred, his eyes on me intensely intoxicating, and I found myself panting and squirming, wetness flowing freely under his gaze. He licked his lips and inched down his boxers, wrapping around his length, stroking lazily as my body thrummed at the sight and I gulped. “Jesus…” I breathed, feeling my eyes grow wide. He smirked, trailing a thumb over his weeping tip, leaning closer to offer the smeared digit to me. Tentatively, I took the tip between my lips, eyes closing in pleasure at the taste of him, my hand on myself moving a little faster. A soft whine escaped me as I sucked his thumb eagerly, lids parting once more to fix him with a desperate gaze. He swallowed and nodded, drawing back to gesture me closer.

“Suck my cock, pretty boy,” he purred, dropping back to recline on an elbow, heavy-lidded gaze locked on me as I scrambled closer. My hand wrapped around him uncertainly, grinning happily when he sighed in pleasure as I stroked him slowly. Reassured, I squeezed his length gently, working him patiently and following the cues offered by his expression. His eyes closed, hips twitching, one hand grasping at the sheets as he let out a guttural groan. “Fuck, you’re good at th-” He cut himself off with a grunt as I bowed my head to flick the tip of my tongue over him, purring, unable to keep myself from wrapping my lips around him to suck lightly. His hand found my hair, tangling in the dark strands with surprising tenderness, shuddering as I bobbed my head tentatively. The weight of his cock on my tongue was intoxicating, and I found myself taking him deeper, eagerly letting his length slide toward the back of my mouth. The groan that he released as he brushed against my throat made my veins hum with pleasure, eyes wide and enraptured as I gazed up at him imploringly. He licked his lips, hips shifting as his fingers tightened in my hair. “More?” he prompted softly, his free hand shifting to tip up my chin minutely when I nodded. Slowly, beautifully, he pushed his way into my throat, and my lashes fluttered with pleasure at the feeling of him filling me, every inch of his impressive length pressed between my lips as he sighed contentedly. He rested there for a moment, fingers caressing my hair, palm pressed to my throat to feel his own hardness inside me, blinking down at me with love and devotion. “You look so pretty, sweet boy…” he purred, and I couldn’t help but squirm happily, tongue massaging the base of his cock. He groaned weakly, twitching even closer before drawing back to let me breathe. I drew air hungrily into my lungs as quickly as I could, then shifted nearer once more, taking him with unerring eagerness back into my throat and earning a surprised moan. Fingers tightening, his hips jerked, driving his length between my lips with a quick, needy pace. “Fuck, Snowflake, this perfect mouth is gonna make me come…” he warned, and I gazed up at him, head shifting to meet his speed, my hands wrapping around his hips to jerk him closer as I pleaded with my eyes for his pleasure. With a deafening groan, he pinned me to him as his cock pulsed between my lips, coating my throat with thick ropes of his seed.

I stayed in place as long as I could, ignorant to my lack of my oxygen until my lungs began to burn and he fell still, trembling. Grudgingly and with a whine of reluctance, I drew back, more than mildly annoyed by my body’s requirement for air. We panted in unison, his chest heaving, and I crawled up to settle against him, humming happily. “Good?”

He simply groaned in response, head falling back as his arm gave way, leaving him splayed across the sheets limply. His eyes flicked to me, shining with joy, and he tiredly gestured me closer, kissing me deeply as soon as I was in reach. “Incredible,” he murmured, breathless and depleted, purring at the taste of himself on my lips. “So… So good.” His hand found my hip to pull me closer, shaking his head in a search for cognizance as his fingers trailed gently over my skin. “Can I touch you?” he breathed, eyes dancing with pleasure when I nodded desperately.

“Fuck, yes please,” I whispered, one leg hooking over his to expose myself to his wandering touch with desperate enthusiasm. His lips found my throat, nipping and sucking gently, pausing only to let out a soft groan as his fingertips brushed against me.

“Fuck… Look how wet you are for me,” he purred, mouth resting behind my ear as he crooned to me. “Such a soaked pussy - so desperate for your Captain to touch you, hm?” I nodded eagerly, whimpering at the feather-light touch trailing from clit to entrance, knees falling further apart to offer myself for his mercy.

“Please – fuck, please, Sir, I need you to touch me more,” I mewled pitifully, writhing under his almost-imperceptible ministrations. He hummed thoughtfully and shifted to his knees, settling between my legs, his eyes on my dripping pussy as he continued his devoted torture.

“Tell me what you want, Snowflake,” he murmured, tracing gentle circles around my aching clit.

“I-I want you. I want your fingers inside me – I want you to stroke my clit – I-I want you to make me come, Sir, please!” I whined, hips jerking in a desperate attempt to increase the pressure of his touch. His free hand found my abdomen to pin me to the sheets, eyes shifting to mine as he slid a single finger inside me slowly, humming with pleasure.

“Fuck – so damn tight… I don’t know if my cock’s gonna fit inside this tiny cunt, baby…” he mused, finger curling and making me jerk in pleasure. I whimpered aloud, squirming as best I could under his grip, forcing my legs further still with utter desperation.

“Please- stretch me out, Sir- ge-get me ready for that big, thick cock to fuck my pussy…” I gasped, fingers clenching in the sheets. The hand moved from my abdomen to stroke my clit lazily, his single digit continuing its ministrations for a few moments more before a second pushed its way inside me. I moaned eagerly, back arching, frantic and desperate as I rutted against his hand.

“Look at you squirm, baby,” he groaned, fingers shifting harder inside me. “Fucking my hand like a needy whore, hm? That’s it… You fuck yourself for me, Snowflake.” His fingers stilled, and I whined, hips jerking with depraved hunger, feeling his digits grow slicker with my wetness as I leaked steadily around him and earning a hum of pleasure for my efforts. “So fucking sexy, watching this desperate cunt leak for me, all stretched out on your Captain’s fingers… You want more, Snowflake?” he offered, a third digit probing questioningly at my entrance. I whimpered and nodded needily, back arching to press myself closer, letting out a ragged moan as he pressed his way inside me once more, curling his fingers inside me and making me quiver uselessly.

“Fuck! Oh, God, yes – just like that, Sergeant, that- that feels so good, so- fuck, please…” I whimpered, head falling back, clawing frantically at the sheets as his hand moved faster. The touch on my clit grew firmer, caressing me in time with the fingers stretching me open, a rumble of joy building in his chest.

“Oh, you like that, hm? Look how soaked this tight pussy is, clinging to me so needily…” He drove into me harder, the room echoing with the lewd sounds of my wetness as he worked me eagerly. “That’s it, sweet boy – you take it so well! Gonna make you come with my fingers in this gorgeous cunt, and then I’m going to fuck you until you scream for me.”

My muscles clenched obligingly as I whimpered breathlessly,  toes curling. I could only nod, lost in the feeling of him driving into my eager hole. There was hardly any recognition in my lust-filled mind as his fingers shifted, wetness building behind the digits, and he groaned with understanding, pressing deeply inside me for a moment longer before drawing back. The cry that left me as my pussy soaked him was feral, throat aching as I wailed, rutting against him frantically as he pressed closer once more. Over and over he fucked me open, letting my wetness coat him, before his hand moved hander on my clit, growling hungrily. “Come for me, Snowflake.”

I sobbed and trembled as I convulsed around him, jerking and grinding, breath coming in ragged pants. He didn’t slow as I moaned deafeningly, garbled pleas escaping me as each nerve in my body sang from the stimulation, only easing up when I collapsed back to the soaked sheets with an exhausted whimper, quivering helplessly, my knees falling to the bed as I wept openly. The feeling of him slowly drawing out of me make me shudder, and he shifted to curl me close against him, fingertips trailing gently over my back. “Easy – easy, sweet boy, that’s it. I’ve got you.”

I buried my face in his chest, illogical tears falling in my overwhelmed overstimulation, breath hitching as I clung to him. “F-fuck, God…”

He chuckled softly, pressing a tender kiss to my sweat damp head as he squeezed me gently. “It’s okay, Snowflake… There you go. You did so good, my love.”

I pushed my head up through my tears, blinking through water clinging to my lashes. “I- I did?”

Smiling softly, he dipped his own head to kiss me gently. “You did,” he murmured, drawing back a little and indicating his wet body. “Utterly soaked me…”

A blush built in my cheeks, and I buried back against him with a groan. “Oh God, I didn’t think I- That you- That that-… Oh, God…”

He chuckled and squeezed me close, nuzzling into my hair. ��That was the hottest thing I’ve ever experienced, sweet boy. No embarrassment.”

Blushing harder, I glanced up uncertainly, chewing on my lip. “It… It was?”

With a soft groan, he kissed me again, shifting his hips a little closer pointedly, his leaking cock pressing against me. “I’m a sailor, baby. I like things wet.”

I laughed aloud, leaning up to wrap my arms around his neck, leg draping over his hip to press me nearer. “I wonder how much you’d enjoy me gushing around your cock, then…” I murmured, looking up at him through my lashes shyly, inching closer until his tip brushed against my wetness lightly. He shuddered, eyes blown wide as his hand found my hip lightly.

“Are you sure, sweet boy?” he breathed, thumb smoothing gently over my skin. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want t-”

I interrupted him by pressing my lips firmly to his, fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck. “I want this,” I whispered, forehead against his, “I want you. Please, Captain Tyne.”

With a nervous pass of his tongue over his lower lip, he nodded, swallowing dryly. He rolled me gently, holding my thigh lightly to keep my leg around him, his eyes on mine as the very end of him pressed against me gently. Inhaling shakily, I nodded back, feeling my eyelashes flutter closed as he slowly shifted himself inside me. My fingers tightened infinitesimally against the back of his neck as his length stretched me out, fighting the instinctive urge of my muscles to clench around the intrusion, staying still and nervous until he buried himself fully inside me. He paused, sheathed inside me, forehead finding mine as he panted. “Are you okay? Does it hurt?”

My eyes opened once more to find his gaze boring into my own, filled with concern, and I owned him a lazy smile. “No,” I breathed, head falling back. “No, it doesn’t hurt. I’m… Mmm. I’m so good.” My fingers found the barely healed skin of his bullet wound, caressing the skin lightly. “Are you okay?”

He brought my hand to his mouth, kissing each fingertip in turn. “I’m perfect, Snowflake. Absolutely perfect. I don’t think it could hurt right now even if it wanted to.” His lips found mine, and I giggled, soft and nervous, as my other leg joined the first around his waist, the motion earning a quiet groan. “God, you’re like a fucking vice, my sweet boy…”

“Please,” I whispered, trailing my hands with devoted reverence over the strong arms either side of me. “Please, my love.”

My moan was breathless and deafening as he drew back patiently, eyes scanning my face for any minute sign of discomfort, but there was only pleasure at the feeling of him stretching me out, of his thick length finally moving inside me. One hand shifted to the back of my head so he could hold me tightly, hips rolling with a loving care that brought tears to my eyes once more. I whined quietly, burying my face in his neck, teeth meeting in the soft skin of his throat in a valiant effort not to cry out my delight for crew and ocean to hear.

The way he held me close, cradling me so adoringly and delicately against him, setting my body aflame as he made love to me, was almost more than I could handle. Despite words gasped in the passionate exchange of our mutual arousal, this was the perfect way for him to treat me – with reverence and sweet love, with utter respect and devotion and emphasis on my pleasure. There was no frantic rutting this time, no pleas and whimpers, only shared breaths gradually becoming heavier, the feeling of our bodies moving in tender unison, my warning coming as fingers grasping at his spine as light exploded before my eyes.

He saw me through my all-encompassing climax without faltering, holding himself back until my muscles had stopped quivering and the moans of rapture had faded to soft gasps and mewls once more. Only then did he bury himself inside me a little more firmly, my heels tightening against his back to drag him closer as he shuddered, mouth finding mine with a quiet groan, the feeling of his seed spilling around his length inside me making me inhale sharply in surprise and hold him tighter, trembling in pleasure.

He held me close to his chest, carefully maneouvered on his slowly softening cock to tuck my back against him without removing his length from where it held his seed inside me. I shivered at the feeling, panting lightly as I tipped my head back gently against his shoulder, eyes closed in exhaustion and pleasure. His arm around me tightened infinitesimally, fingers tracing unknowable patterns into the sensitive skin of my abdomen as he sighed. “Good?” I prompted at a whisper, my own hand skirting the muscles of his forearm adoringly.

“Incredible,” he breathed, pressing a soft kiss to my temple.

“It didn’t hurt?” I pressed, relieved when he shook his head against me.

“Not for a second.” His fingers stilled, pausing in their delicate ministrations, and I heard him swallow nervously. “And for you? Did it hurt? Was it… Was I… Okay?”

I turned my head to meet his gaze, the mahogany shining ochre and gold in the soft light offered by the lamp at our bedside, and kissed him softly, our lips bruised from our passion. “Not at all. It, and you…” I smiled softly, pressing my forehead to his, hand raising to caress his cheek lovingly. “You were perfect. My sweet Gregor. My amazing Lieutenant, my flawless Captain… My perfect, perfect Grishenka.”

[queen-beefcake-sqx]

Page 182 of Chuck Tingle’s Bury Your Gays was written for the queer Disco Elysium fans who found themselves strangely hot and bothered during the autopsy scene.

[barklikeagod]

i can't watch this scene without thinking of matthias taking care of theo's wounds...

[thew1ldblueyonder]

Aftermath

„Lucas? Lucas, come in! Over.” Dustin screams through the receiver of his walkie, tearing through the door of the Harrington house with his whole body as he limps inside. Steve grits his teeth, trying to quell his frustration:

“Scream louder, why won’t you, so my neighbors will call the fucking police on us!” he hisses and scans the neighboring houses for any sign of movement behind the curtains: if the frustrated screams of a kid after the police-mandated curfew right outside his doorstep wouldn’t get them alarmed, the sight of three bloodied, armed – with weapons carried by them that are definitely highly illegal, like the sawed-off Nancy’s still got attached to her back -, and dirty teenagers fidgeting around his parents’ house definitely would. And the pièce de résistance hasn’t even been presented yet, hiding behind the dark confines of his beemer.

So yes, forgive him for being a little frustrated; he instantly feels guilty at the wild and panicked look Dustin sends him as he stumbles into the house, his eyes unfocused as he clutches the walkie. His hand is shaking ever so slightly, and every frustration Steve has felt leaves him in an instant.

“They’re not picking up!” He says, still way too loud for comfort. He presses the button again. “Lucas! Erica! Max! Please pick up!”

He doesn’t even say over – Steve registers numbly, taking the walkie-talkie out of Dustin's hand, and grabbing his shoulder.

“I know Dustin, okay? But you gotta keep quiet. Go inside, and sit down, I’ll make sure the coast is clear and bring him in. Wait in the living room, and listen for the phone. If anything happened to their walkies they’ll probably try to call. Got it?”

Dustin’s eyes are unfocused and shining – he’s seen so many horrors, so much fucked up shit since Steve knew him, but he’s never seen him so terrified. It doesn’t help that his hands are covered in blood that’s slowly turning a darker shade, mixing with the dusty atmosphere of the Upside Down stuck to his skin.

Dustin looks at him, nodding, but he’s somewhere else, even as he turns, still bobbing his head, and steps away from his hands. Oh, and his hands – they left blood-red stains on his jacket. He watches Dustin drag himself out of his sight, and it takes everything in his body not to follow him, to let him out of his sight. Fuck, he never should’ve let him out of it, he should’ve-.

He breathes in and turns, and doesn’t let himself think too much – it never helps. What he’s good at is taking action, so that’s what he needs to do now.

Darkness envelops them as he shuts the door behind Dustin. He doesn’t turn on the porchlight, because he knows they need the dark cloak of the night to avoid suspicion.

Nancy has already opened the backdoor of the beemer by the time he gets back – she’s leaning in, whispering something unintelligible behind a very stricken-looking Robin who stands over her like a guard dog.  When Steve reaches her Robin’s eyes find his, filled with desperation and fear, not unlike Dustin’s, not unlike his own deep inside. He breathes, running his hand over her arm as reassuring as he can. He almost trembles, when he hears Eddie’s quiet whimper.

“Shh,” Nancy soothes. “I’m sorry, Eddie, you have to be quiet.”

Eddie doesn’t say anything – he has his hand over his mouth, biting onto his own finger in a desperate attempt to keep quiet. Even in the dark, he looks pale – paler than he’s ever looked, and his hands shake, maybe from the effort, or from the dread.  

“I can’t fucking see him in this dark” Nancy grits out, her hands padding softly over the makeshift bandages, checking.

“If you saw him, the neighbors could too,” Robin says instead of Steve, and he’s thankful for it. His throat is a little too dry now – his nostrils are filled with a metallic scent that makes his stomach turn.

“I know” Nancy sighs, and Steve can’t see her, but knows she’s scrunching her nose in frustration – he doesn’t even know what his expression is like – it feels like his face is numb and perhaps not even his own anymore. He stands there like a pillar, skin itching, every fiber in him wanting to do something, to move. “Steve, you have to lift him by the armpits, Robin get his feet, and I’ll open the door.”

“Are you sure I should get his feet, what if I trip and-“

“I can walk” Eddie whimpers, the volume of his voice is a fraction of the usual – it’s clear that he means to be frustrated, biting, maybe a little sarcastic, but he only sounds like he’s about to cry.

“No, you can’t,” Nancy tells him in a tone that leaves no room for argument and steps away from the door to leave room for Steve.  

He maneuvers himself as close to the door as he can, leaning inside the car and over Eddie to try and figure out the best way to lift him without jostling him too much. Dark eyes stare back at him from the shadows, and for a moment the cacophony inside his head quiets giving way to only the labored breaths coming from the guy looking up with something unreadable hidden inside the onyx gaze.

Robin gets his feet without needing to be asked twice, and Nancy’s already at the door by the time Steve decides on the best way to do this. With one last look at Robin, he slides his arms under Eddie’s armpits.

Eddie groans way too loudly, even though he bites onto his forearm with concerning strength, muffling his sounds of agony to the best of his ability. Still, he trembles in Steve’s arms, and for a second he almost lets himself hesitate, struck by the bloodcurdling sounds coming from the guy, whose head lays back against his torso, body going taut. Robin sends him a look and speeds up, going as fast as they possibly can. Steve doesn’t even dare look at the windows, doesn’t think he could continue without collapsing if he found someone looking.

Robin knows where the guestroom is without needing to be told. And she backs up with uncharacteristic finesse kicking the door in as Nancy is held back by needing to shut the front door. It’s a mindless thing – he carries Eddie and hears the others exchange words, hear Dustin’s footsteps, his panicked words, and the way Nancy tries to talk him down. He hears Eddie sob “Dustin”, in a way that seems to be meant to be reassuring, but comes as anything but, and way too late.  

The bed had pristine, white sheets, but they take on the color of blood quicker than anything Steve’s ever seen, as he lowers Eddie onto the double bed.

“Fuck” Eddie cries, now that the doors are shut. “It really- fucking- hurts” he almost sobs, and as Nancy flicks on the lights, shutting the door behind herself with a terrifying finality – shutting Dustin outside – the tears gathering on the edges of Eddie’s eyes become clear.

So many other things become clear, too. His injuries are on display in the light, all the bandages soaked through, a deep and dark red.

“Steve” Nancy says close to his right ear. “Take a deep breath. Help me get his jacket off, I can’t really cut that off him.”

“Don’t- don-‘,‘s my favorite-“

“You need to lift him up a little again, ‘kay? Robin, get the bandages!”

When Steve lifts him up again, arms under his armpits, leaning him closer to his chest while Nancy tugs at the leather jacket, Eddie starts mumbling.

“S’tve Harrringt’n” He slurs. “Never thought- you’d- be the- be undressin’ me” he laughs but chokes on it, and Steve can’t help but shudder.

---

part 2 coming soon

[ex-textura]

There's been...an incident. It's okay though, he wasn't dead that long and it's gonna be a badass scar.

[release-the-hound]

Always take your dog to the vet after a bite

Ok, but why?

Warning: discussion of animal injury, veterinary surgical procedure, and images of a bite wound below the cut.

This is not a substitution for veterinary or medical care, if you or a pet has been bitten, seek professional help immediately.

Bite wounds are very deceptive. Injuries may not be visible. Broken bones and pneumothorax don't require a puncture through the skin to wreak havoc on the body. Dog bites exert a lot of crushing and shearing force on tissues below the skin.

When you see a puncture wound from a bite, it will likely look small and it may not bleed much. As a result, it is easy to assume the injury will heal well on its own, without veterinary intervention. Do not be fooled. The danger is not in the small visible portion of the wound, but in what lies beneath.

I'm talking about dead space. During a bite, tissues can be ripped from their attachments and die, resulting in a cavity beneath the surface of a wound. This cavity is dark and moist, airflow is limited, and it fills with blood and other fluids. Bacteria love the dark and wet, so wounds with dead space can easily become abscessed.

Whim's visible puncture is less than half a centimeter in diameter. Not very concerning on its own.

When it was lavaged the vet discovered over an inch of dead space.

Without veterinary intervention, the small outer surface of the wound could close, leaving infection to fester in the area beneath the skin, with no visual indicator of what is going on until an abscess forms.

So how is healing promoted? In Whim's case, the best option was to sedate her and install a Penrose drain.

Whim's initial puncture is at the top of her back, with the drain passing through the dead space and exiting lower down. This allows gravity (and capillary action) to do most of the work to drain the wound of excess fluid. The dead space will heal and shrink around the the drain over time, decreasing the likelihood of infection in the wound once the drain is removed. They are ideal for small pockets of dead space and can be removed a few days after placement. Other drains exist and may be more appropriate depending on the injury.

Whim had 6 visible puncture wounds, all of them looked similar from the outside, but only one of them had a large pocket of dead space. You cannot tell the severity of a bite wound from looking at it, you must have your animal assessed by a licensed DVM.

I hope this has been informative to those of you interested in veterinary medicine. Do not treat this as any kind of instruction manual for caring for your animal at home. My only instruction is talk to your veterinarian.

P.S. some dogs like to try and eat their drains (hello lab owners). Depending on the location of the drain, a surgical shirt or an elizabethan collar may be appropriate to prevent this.

[ojamajoprincess]

revising for my boards. I will forever be bitter about Tezuka Sensei for influencing my schema of how skin grafts work, in such a way that made learning this in class a straight up paradigm shift and an added barrier to my learning that unit.

In modern science, allografts (skin grafts from other people) are typically used as temporary coverings to protect the wound from infection and decrease pain of the site. Allografts are then replaced with autografts, where the person's own skin is taken from other parts of their body and put over the wound site. The skin can be unaltered or it can be meshed to increase surface area.

Tezuka had to go with the less heard of method of permanent allograft, which currently has less data, but has been reported viable in various cases. It's not completely implausible, but it's also not exactly supported by high levels of evidence. And I had to spend an hour digging through research papers to find that out.

I get why Tezuka Sensei went this route. I remain terribly fond of the idea of Kuro'o getting a skin graft from his dear friend when no one else would help, and of his keeping the graft for sentimental reasons despite others urging him to replace it. But I still had to go through the five stages of grief and research the issue to come to the conclusion that opens up more questions than answers. Is Kuro'o just lucky not to reject the skin? Does he just get up in the morning and at the back of his mind wonder if half his face will slough off today? Is he immunocompromised? Clearly I am not supposed to think this far into it, but I am, and THAT bothers me.

(DNI if you ship bj w/ his adopted daughter; thank you kindly.)

[autistic-katara]

thinking abt that one time i tried to pick up a sharp object at like 4am and somehow accidentally ended up cutting my wrist-

[snarp]

I'm going to try Ultimate Hibiclens Technique (where you mix it with lotion and smear it on the problem and leave it there until something happens)

[feroxsilvester]

@modestmuses​ said: Silco: “Whose blood is that?”

(pain tolerance starters - open)

“It’s not mine!” Jack answers cheerfully, shooting the older man a wide, sharp-toothed grin. “At least, most of it isn’t. Most of this is from some fuckin’ dipshit I ran into earlier.” Which is true--only some of the blood currently soaking into his tattered work shirt and threadbare jacket is his own, only there because he’d gotten a bit sloppy and let the guy get close to him. Which, really, can you blame him for? He was having fun.

He knows, on some level, that showing up on Silco’s doorstep covered in blood perhaps isn’t the smartest move, but after the night he’s had, he’d just wanted to make sure all of his people were okay. As Silco is on the short list of people Jack wholeheartedly considers his and would kill to protect, his safety and wellbeing are high on his list of priorities.

Silco doesn’t need his protection, but Jack offers it readily nonetheless. Because what’s the point if he can’t keep his people safe?

Knowing that Silco won’t be satisfied with that explanation alone, Jack elaborates readily enough. “I caught some fuckin’ creep stalking around the gas station tonight. I gave him the chance to back off and leave without getting hurt, but clearly he didn’t know how to listen to directions.” He shrugs his bony shoulders, his smile falling slightly as he pushes his hands into the pockets of his jacket.

“Anyway,” he says quickly, averting his eyes for a brief moment before looking back up at Silco, “he stabbed me a couple times, but I’ll be fine. That’s not important. The important part is that he’s dead now.” Dead and buried deep in the woods behind the gas station. Jack has learned by now not to bury the bodies of anyone he kills too close to the gas station itself. There’s too much risk of the other employees finding them that way, after all.

As if emboldened by his mention of them, the wounds on his torso give a painful throb. Jack’s expression twitches briefly into a grimace, but he quickly forces it down. It’s not as if this hasn’t happened before, and they’re already mostly healed anyway. He doesn’t want to focus too much on them, so they can just shut the fuck up.

His grin soon returns, taking on a more lighthearted note as Jack beams up at Silco. “By the way, can I borrow some clothes? I think this shirt is a bit beyond saving by now.” Perhaps a bit of an understatement, all things considered.

[chaseprice]

I accidentally stabbed my self with a knife today it was not fun at all!