skin grafting


i got asked to draw some medic/spy but… i’m sorry this turned out different then expected :’‘(

now there is an over excited medic and a spy on the run

EDIT: skin grafts are actually a good thing for those with severe burns y_y but a) we know medic is no real doctor and b) the prospect of getting skin from his dead comrades didn’t fancy spy

Leave This Town Pt 5 (Mechanic!Bucky AU)

Characters: reader, Bucky, Surprise Avenger! :)

Summary: Your dreams of kissing your small town life goodbye are about to come true when an unexpected detour leaves you stranded. Meeting the handsome local mechanic has you rethinking your plans. Perhaps happiness is less about where you’re headed and more about the people you meet along the way.

Song Inspiration: Sleep on the Floor by The Lumineers

Warnings: Fluff! Then some angst. Mentions of sex.

Word Count: 3k

Tags are at bottom (TAG LIST IS CLOSED I’M SORRY)

**This fic is for @bionic-buckyb ‘s 5K AU Writing Challenge**

A/N: Oh man. I’ve been so excited for this part. I really hope you enjoy it! Please let me know your thoughts! Love you guys!! 

<<<Part Four   Part Five   Part Six>>> 

Leave This Town Masterlist

Full Masterlist


Originally posted by sebjpeg

(Sorry, I just had to use this gif. :D )


Stepping away you grasped one of his hands in yours while the other slipped the key into the lock and turned. You stepped inside but before he could cross the threshold, he stopped, causing you to look back in question.

“Y/N. Are you sure?” he asked.

You stared at him a moment, his hair mussed and pupils blown wide in lust. Mostly likely, you looked just as wrecked from only a kiss. You needed more. With a nodded, you pulled him forward and shut the door behind him. “I’m positive.”


The moment the lock slid home, his arms were around you with soft, plush lips caressing yours. Bucky’s large, calloused hands brushed down the side of your neck, then teased just under the collar of your shirt down toward your chest. As your fingers worked to unbutton his shirt, his fingers did the same with his mouth never leaving yours. 

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ExorJosh: Master Post

Until Dawn AU (Comic list and Summery)

List of ExorJosh comics & illustrations:

[1 “Inconclusive”] [2 “Masked”] [3 What Happened] [4 “Sam”]
[5 Change Room”]  [6 “What’s that sound”] [7 “unknown symptom”]

Other UD Comics:
[siblings] [bromancy]

Illustrations: *some nsfw*
[At the Mall] [In the Morning] [Walk the line] [on the steering wheel][Josh’s Scar] [nostalgia] [kiss] [Warm Tea] [Chillin on sofa]

Other UD illustrations:

[Josh][some legends say] [Peck] [Ashely]

List of Fics (coming soon)

***This post will be updated every time I make a new ExorJosh posting. 

What is #ExorJosh:

ExorJosh is an Until Dawn head canon/AU that I came up with that is more of a possible post-game scenario .
It is continued after one of the canon ending where, Josh turns Wendigo.
In this scenario, Josh gets captured by a team of private investigators that was put together by Josh’s rich parents who are desperate to save their last surviving child.
Once he is captured, his parents put him through every possible medical treatments to ‘stabilize’ him thinking that he is suffering from some sort of a neurological illness in combination with an unknown viral infection that’s causing his physical deformity. This is because he already has a history of severe mental illness. However, when they run out of options with all the negative results, they resort to an exorcism. Not by a christian method but through a Native American method. They are able to come to this decision due to their high interest in, and past dealings with, Aboriginal culture(<-this is a canon) in combination with the word-by-word police report of Josh’s friends and from reading the dead-wendigo-hunter’s diary that was retrieved from the remains of the lodge basement.(by one of the investigators)
While it’s not for sure whether the exorcism fully rid Josh of wendigo spirit, it appears to be a success and Josh regains his consciousness. However, he is extremely weak from the months of deterioration/treatments and the physical deformity is clearly evident around his mouth and right eyelid. He gets the basic treatments (skin-graft, etc) to re-construct his right eyelid and to close the wide gap on his left cheek but he refuses to get any more cosmetic surgeries out of the guilt of causing so much medical expenses to his parents. (Evident  from his in-game dialogue that Josh is not just a spoiled rich boy but financially conscious enough)
Even after the exorcism, it takes a long time for Josh to recuperate physically and mentally and he has to stick to a specific diet and slew of medications.  Eventually, Josh’s mother contacts Chris and Chris is the first friend for Josh to re-unite with. Then, despite of Josh’s newly developed anxiety, Josh is able to re-unite with Sam as well with the support of Chris.

This is the base idea of ExorJosh. There are more related Ideas and awesome fics written by other lovely people that expand this scenario. So if you’re planing to write on #ExorJosh, You should check these out :)

[related idea/facts posting #1]  [Josh’s Mental health#1]  [Josh’s Mental health#2]

Logic Behind #ExorJosh:

In this section, I’ll expand on the logic behind this AU.
If there are any more questions, please ask me and I’ll add explanation to this part of the posting.  

If you’re very invested and protective of any other 'Josh-survives’ scenarios, I DO NOT recommend you to read beyond this point. My intention is not to destroy someone else’s fandom branch but to explain why I came up with #ExorJosh the way I did to people who are interested.

click below to continue reading.

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Skin Grafts

Today I did two cases, both skin grafts. One with a Burn Surgeon and the other with a Plastic Surgeon. 

Skin Grafts are often used for burn patients; skin is removed from one area of the body and transplanted to another. There are two types of skin graft: split-thickness grafts in which just a few layers of outer skin are transplanted and full-thickness grafts, which involve all of the dermis. There is usually permanent scarring that is noticeable.

During a skin graft, a special skin-cutting instrument known as a dermatone removes the skin from an area (the donor site) usually hidden by clothing such as the buttocks or inner thigh. Once removed, the graft is placed on the area in need of covering and held in place by a dressing and a few stitches. The donor site is also covered with a dressing to prevent infection from occurring. Recovery time from a split-thickness skin graft is generally fairly rapid, often less than three weeks. For full-thickness skin graft patients the recovery time is a few weeks longer. Aside from burn patients, skin grafts can also be used during breast or nose reconstruction.

“Make-A-Wish. Can I help you?”

I want to thank all the wonderful Tumblr-folk I tagged in this for contributing to one of the best reads I’ve had in a while. I would also like to apologize to those whose contributions I might have missed.


I wonder if, in superhero universes, the villains ever get contacted by those “Make a Wish Foundation” and similar people.

I mean, the heroes do. Of course they do. Kids who want to meet Spiderman or Superman or get to be carried by the Flash as he runs through Central City for just thirty seconds.

But surely there are also the kids, who - because they are kids and sometimes kids are just weird - decide that what they really, really want is to meet a supervillain. Because he’s scary or she’s awesome or that freeze ray is just really, really cool, you know?

The heroes would be so weirded out by it. The villains with codes of ethics would totally band together to force the villains without one (should they be the one requested) to do their part for the cause.

But imagine the person who has to track down the villains and organize everything?

Like, the first time it happens, no one actually thinks it’s possible, but one of the newbies volunteers to at least try. They get lucky, the kid wants to meet one of the villains who is well known to have a personal code of ethics (eg one of the rogues), and it takes them weeks to track the villain down to this one bar they’ve been seen at a few times, plus a week of staking out said bar, but they finally find them.

So they approach the villain, very politely introduce themselves and explain the situation, finishing with an assurance that, should the villain agree, no law enforcement or heroes will be informed of the meeting.

The villain, assuming it’s a joke, laughs in their face.

At this point, the poor volunteer, who has giving up weeks of their time and no small amount of effort to track down this villain, all so a sweet little girl can meet the person who somehow inspired them, well, at this point the employee sees red.

They explode, yelling at this villain about the little girl who, for some unknown reason, absolutely loved them, had a hand-made stuffed toy of them and was inspired by their struggle to keeping fighting her own and wasn’t the villain supposed to have ethics? The entire bar is witness to this big bad villain getting scolded by some bookish nobody a foot shorter than them.

When the volunteer is done, the villain calmly knocks back their drink, grips the volunteers shoulder and drags them outside. The bar’s patrons assume that person will never be seen again, the volunteer included. But once they’re outside, the villain apologizes for their assumption, asks for the kid’s details so they can drop by in the near future, not saying when for obvious reasons. They also give the very relieved volunteer a phone number to call if someone asks for them again.

A week later, the little girl’s room is covered in villain merchandise, several expensive and clearly stolen gifts and she is happily clutching a stack of signed Polaroids of her and the villain.

The next time a kid asks to meet a villain, guess who gets that assignment?

Turns out, the first villain was quite touched by the experience of meeting their little fan, and word has gotten around. The second villain happily agrees when they realize it’s the same volunteer who asked the other guy. Unfortunately, one of the heroes sees the villain entering the kid’s hospital and obviously assumes the worst. They rush in, ready to drag the villain out, but the volunteer stands in their way. The hero spends five minutes getting scolded for trying to stop the villain from actually doing a good thing and almost ruining the kid’s wish. The volunteer gets a reputation among villains as someone who can not only be trusted with personal contact numbers but who will do everything they can to keep law enforcement away during their visits.

The volunteer has a phonebook written in cypher of all the villain’s phone numbers, with asterixes next to the ones to call if any other villains give them trouble.

Around the office, they gain the unofficial job title of The Villain Wrangler.

The heroes are genuinely flabbergasted by The Villain Wrangler. At first, some of the heroes try to reason with them.

Heroes: “Can’t you, just, give us their contact details? They’ll never even have to know it was you.”

The Villain Wrangler: “Yeah sure, <rollseyes> because all these evil geniuses could never possibly figure out that it’s me who happens to be the common thread in the sudden mass arrests. Look man, even if it wouldn’t get me killed, it would disappoint the kids. You wouldn’t want to disappoint the kids would you?”

Heroes: “… no~ but…”

The Villain Wrangler: “Exactly.”

Eventually, one of the anti-hero types gets frustrated, and decides to take a stand. They kidnap the Villain Wrangler and demand that they give up the contents of the little black book of Villains, or suffer the consequences. It’s For the Greater Good, the anti-hero insists as they tie the Villain Wrangler to a pillar.

The Villain Wrangler: “You complete idiot, put me back before someone figures out that I’m missing.”

Anti-hero: “…excuse me?”

The Villain Wrangler: “Ugh, do I have to spell this out for you? Do you actually want your secret base to be wiped off the map? With us in it? Sugarsticks, how long has it been? If they get suspicious, they check in, and then if I miss a check-in, they tend to come barging into wherever I am just to prove that they can, even if they figure out that they’re not being threatened by proxy. Suffice to say, Auntie Muriel really regretted throwing my phone into the pool when she strenuously objected to me answering it during family time. If they think for even one moment that I’ve given them up, they won’t hesitate to obliterate both of us from their potential misery. You do know some of the people in my book have like missiles and djinni and elemental forces at their disposal, right?”

Anti-hero: “Wait, what? I thought they trusted you?!”

The Villain Wrangler: “Trust is such a strong word!”

Villain: “Indeed.”

Anti-hero: “Wait, wha-” <slumps over, dart sticking out of neck>

The Villain Wrangler: “Thanks. I thought they were going to hurt me.”

Villain: “You did well. You kept them distracted, and gave us time to follow your signal.” <cuts Villain Wrangler free>

The Villain Wrangler: <rubbing circulation back into limbs> “Yeah well, you know me; I do whatever I have to. So I’ll see you Wednesday at four at St Martha’s? I’ve got an 8yo burns unit patient recovering from her latest batch of skin grafts who could really use a pep talk.”

Villain: “… of course. Yes… I… yes.”

The Villain Wrangler: “I just think you could really reach her, you know?”

Villain: <unconsciously runs fingers over mask> “I… yes, but, what should I say?”

The Villain Wrangler: “Whatever advice you think you could have used the most just after.”

Villain: <hoists Anti-hero over shoulder almost absently> “….yes.”

The Villain Wrangler wasn’t lying to the Anti-hero. They know that the more ruthless villains would not hesitate if they thought for one second that the Anti-hero would betray them.

But this is not the first time the Villain Wrangler has gone to extreme lengths to protect their identities.

Trust is a strong word. The Villain Wrangler earned it, and is terrified by what it could mean.

My first official Deadpool headcanon is this. This this this.

Okay but this whole concept actually makes a lot of sense, because villains are a lot more likely to be disfigured/disabled/use adaptive devices (bc ableist tropes), so of course, say, a child amputee is going to be more interested in the villain with a robot arm who almost destroyed New York than the heroes that took him down.

Also, imagine one of the kids gets better, and a few years down the line becomes a villain themselves, except their crimes are things like smuggling chemo drugs across the border for families that can’t afford treatment, or stealing from corrupt businessmen to make donations to underfunded hospitals (idk this turned into a Leverage AU or something) and every time the heroes encounter her, they’re like “oh no. she’s getting away. Curses. Welp, nothing we can do.” Though it isn’t that she can’t take them on; bc of course once the villain from way back when found out what she was up to, he started helping/training her.

“I thought they just hired someone to dress up and pretend to be you,” she says, amazed, when he reveals himself. “I didn’t think they actually got the real you!”

Every year the Villain Wrangler gets a very expensive gift basket from the pair.

And for the kids who don’t get better the villains are there too, they show up to every funeral, they bear too small coffins on their shoulders and the heroes stand aside

They are fierce with grieving families assuring them that their child will not be forgotten, and they don’t balk at negative emotions, they don’t tell people to be strong or “celebrate their child’s life,” because these parents have every right to their grief and anger

And the lost children are never forgotten. Flowers appear on graves during birthdays and anniversaries, heroes find pictures of those kids and they carefully take them down and ensure they’re delivered to the villain’s cell, and a few villains can be seen with friendship bracelets wrapped around their wrists the cops have learned not to try and take them off

They are fierce with grieving families assuring them that their child will not be forgotten, and they don’t balk at negative emotions, they don’t tell people to be strong or “celebrate their child’s life,” because these parents have every right to their grief and anger

And then one day, one of the evil geniuses who happens to specialize in inducing bizarre genetic mutations meets a young fan who was born with a rare genetic disorder that is slowly killing them, and realizes that they can help.

Another, who created their own exosuit, talks to a young fan and suddenly understands how much the technology that they have built for themselves could revolutionize quality of life for people with muscular dystrophy, or paraplegia, or other disorders that confine people to wheelchairs with little mobility.

A third thinks of a way that their nanobots could be used to detect and remove cancer cells when their fan, who had been in remission, writes to say that the doctors have found a new metastasizing tumour.

Then shortly after, an evil genius specializing in cloning is contacted by an old colleague asking if a suitable heart couldn’t be grown for their young fan with a congenital heart condition who needs a donor.

Suddenly, a pattern of villains offering (and marketing) their insights and resources to improve medical science starts to arise. Many who had previously been operating on society’s fringes are shocked to receive public accolades, research grants and job offers from major companies because of their work.

A grassroots movement arises advocating for imprisoned villains with appropriate qualifications and/or experience to have access to resources to conduct research for the public good. The Second Chance Rehabilitation Project launches.

(It is an open secret that only people who have been vetted by the Villain Wrangler are allowed to join, because the Villain Wrangler has by now a meticulously set up method and intelligence network to run background checks and character references through ensure that none of the children wishing to meet their role models get hurt.)

This is all soooo good, but I wonder what effect this has on the villains. Like, can they really wreak indiscriminate havoc when they know the kids that worship them might be in the area? Like, what if they attack a shopping mall and it just so happens that Annie’s mom ran in for a pair of shoes or something? What then?

So what you’re saying is that there is now an organization of henchmen who do round the clock, exhaustive research in order to make sure the villain’s plan isn’t going to ruin the life of some kid. Just imagine some aunt getting a call from an unlisted number.

“I swear I am not a bill collector ma’am. It’s just. Well. Ok and I swear I am not a stalker even if this is actually going to be a very creepy phone call, but you said you were going to the mall at four? Is it possible you could reschedule or postpone that trip for about an hour? That mall is way too close to…well. It just wouldn’t be safe. I could wire you some money, and you could go to the much nicer mall one town over? Would that work for you? No? You are calling the police? Yes. Yes that is the sensible thing to do. Definitely do that. You have a nice day, ma’am. Tell Marcus Doctor Evil says hello and to have a nice day.”

And then the poor minion has to call the villain and explain why robbing X bank isn’t a good idea that day.

“Yes. Hello. Sir? Oh good I caught you before you left the base. Look, Marcus Smithson’s aunt is going to be near the blast radius for that job you have scheduled so-yes. Yes I am aware that rescheduling is going to be a lot of work since most everything is already set up, but….but, sir think about poor Marcus! She’s his favorite aunt, and the woman refused to ‘reorder her life around some crazy mastermind’. ……no…, please do not kidnap the aunt, sir. It’s terribly rude. Yes I realize you weren’t going to keep her or doing anything other than drop her off at an alternative location, but, well, citizens frown upon that sort of thing and….yes….Yes, of course. You have a good day, too, sir.”

And they turn to their coworker and are just like “So if I don’t come in to work tomorrow it’s because Doctor Evil threw me in his dungeon and/or sent his hellhounds to maul me. Please remember to send help.

But but but… what happens when one falls through the cracks? When Lord Dominion or whatever does a typical baddie thing but then Penny’s new best friend gets caught up in the damage and Lord D didn’t even KNOW Penny had a new bestie so how was he to know? But now the kid is devastated and it’s all his fault? I mean, how does that even shake out?

Penny SWEARS REVENGE! Lord D is distraught but also somewhat proud. He sends Penny a very sincere apology and also a bunch of tips on how to execute a proper vengeance plot, in case she decides not to accept the apology. He sends henchmen to spy on her, and he keeps the surveillance photos of her sitting in her room, plans and schematics strewn all over her desk. He puts them in his wallet and brags to all his villain friends that one of his kids is taking up scheming, look at her go, she’s already started on pattern analysis of his latest heists. He’s so proud. Later this month he’ll show up on her way home from school so she can have her first Confrontation.

There will inevitably be mistakes and tragedies.

Penny is an intelligent kid. She catches on to the spying henchmen pretty quick and bribes some of them to her side with snacks. That first confrontation does not go like Lord Dominion expected because Penny has minions (minions that are using his OWN WEAPONS against him, even)

Lord Dominion is the proudest villain ever, even if he did almost lose an ear thanks to the impeccable aim of a nine year old with a grudge. He does let the laser blast graze him just so he can have a scar to show people because that girl is a villain after his own heart.

He doesn’t want to ask his villain rivals to help her out because that would imply he doesn’t think she’s capable of eventually growing strong enough to kick his ass. Turns out Penny already thought of that and has mailed letters asking for advice to Lady Sinister, Lord Dominion’s long time, mostly friendly rival. (She mailed a letter to Lord D’s arch nemesis, but man. Heroes are always trying to make you do The Right Thing. Penny doesn’t have time for the high road. Plus, the low road has lasers.)

Lady Sinister thinks Penny is the best thing ever and while she has mostly stopped kicking Lord D’s ass, she still breaks into his hideout to sit in his favorite chair with a glass of wine and brags about her new favorite up and coming villainess. (She doesn’t warn Lord D about the attack rabbits she agreed to train for Penny as a favor, and for obvious reasons, she is going to be a bystander at the next confrontation, filming everything on her phone to post the dark web so all their villain friends can see this)Being able to say that one is involved with the Project begins to look really good in parole hearings. The Villains involved perform their own quality checks on one another, because if one of their kids got hurt, then all of their kids could potentially lose out, and the ones that are serious about the Project are not having that. (Also, the ability to collaborate with other geniuses is the most interesting thing to happen to most of them since losing to various heroes, and most consider the intellectual stimulation to be worth putting up with the ridiculous egos and inevitable personality clashes that arise.)

Reformed Villains come out of the woodwork to advocate about better mental healthcare, and support systems. Savvy universities and private labs quietly take their advice, setting up better mental health supports and laboratory safety standards to prevent the Brain Drain caused by losing their less stable scientists to the Costumes.

The Villain Wrangler watches all of this develop with a smile.

Their plan succeeded beyond their wildest dreams.

I’m so down for these posts that assume the best of people instead of the worst

Okay, this part caught my attention: “…the Villain Wrangler has by now a meticulously set up method and intelligence network…to ensure that none of the children…gets hurt.” Which led me to the heartbreaking realization that one DID. Get hurt, that is, by the villain they idolized.

And all I can think is that the Villain Wrangler didn’t call in the heroes. They didn’t call in another heart-of-gold villain. No. The VW rolled up their sleeves and went after this person themselves. This project is their baby, after all. If they get the accolades for the successes, they must also shoulder the burden of the failures.

The VW hunts down the villain that crossed the line. Their punishment is swift and horrifying; no hero would have the stomach to mete out justice in such a way, and no villain would have the desire to get quite that much blood on their own hands.

There’s. So. Much. Blood.

The Villain Wrangler never forgets. They increase security, increase the hours and background checks, they increase the graveside visits to the child they failed.

Just the one. But one is one too many.

{ ��=����

Fanfiction - A Lifetime of Her (Part II)

Part II – “In slow motion the blast is beautiful”


I watched as people walked in the gardens outside the hospital, struggling to distance myself from the acute sound that seemed to be permanently whistling inside my ears. It was the sound of immediately before – the universe’s cry of warning that catastrophe was imminent. I found myself trapped in that moment, long after the physical pain was gone – after weeks in the intensive care unit, I was finally starting the skin grafts on my back –, paralyzed in a life-changing moment. Doomed to stand in the frontier of what I had been and what the blast had made me become.

A couple was strolling nearby, the woman holding the bundle of their newborn baby, the man enraptured, dutifully keeping watch over a couple of celebratory balloons, announcing a perfect boy in impeccable blue.

I had seen myself in that life, before. My hand entwined with a faceless woman – her eyes mysteriously the colour of strong whiskey, enough to inebriate me with its fumes -, mindlessly walking towards a shared house, a shared life. I couldn’t fathom such a thing now – the explosion, caused by a gas leak at my apartment building at the university, had tarnish skin and dreams alike.

The breeze kept everyone outside mercifully comfortable, under an otherwise hot sun. It was only the second time I had ventured to go outside, wearing the notorious grey pajamas from the hospital, which marked me as belonging somewhere else other than sitting on a bench under the leafy tree.

The sense of disconnection from everything around me was crushing – I felt like I was standing inside a glassed cage, looking at people with normal lives, unable to find an escape to join them. Jenny and Ian visited me daily, trying their best to cheer me up and to bring me back to myself – I had no heart to tell them that only dust and fragments had remained from that man. I was alive, thankfully – but had no notion of what to do with that surprising gift.

“May I sit down?” A woman asked me. I nodded, not bothering to look at her – instead I curled more into my robe, making myself invisible, biting my bottom lip to avoid moaning with pain from the stretching skin. Breathing, moving, walking – everything came with a renewed cost, as if to remind me that my survival still demanded sacrifice.

She sat on the other end of the bench. I saw her blue sneaker dangling spiritedly on the periphery of my vision, as my nostrils were filled with the smell of rosemary and lemon.

“Excuse me.” The voice next to me said, somewhat timidly. “I could swear I know you, but can’t really figure out from where…”

I tilted my head and looked straight into the sun.

Her eyes were the exact same shade as ten years before – I would recognize them anywhere, even if I couldn’t recognize her brown curls or her tentative smile. My jaw dropped an inch, as I stared flabbergasted at the girl from the graveyard.

“You!” I babbled, nervously fumbling with the catheter, skilfully taped to my forearm by a kind nurse. “Ah – yes!” I tried to recover seeing her confused look, silently kicking myself for blurting. “We have met once – many years ago.”

“You’re the boy from the cemetery.” She said slowly, her hawk eyes studying my face. She had an adorable wrinkle of concentration between her brows. “Ellen’s son!”

“Aye.” I smiled, shyly. “I dinna think ye’d remember that.”

“Of course I do.” She nodded, offering me a kind smile. “I always pay my respects to Ellen, whenever I visit my parents.”

I couldn’t answer – my throat suddenly thick with emotion, as words and feelings nestled like a snake around my vocal chords. That she remembered her act of kindness as vividly as I did – and that she had kept watch over my mother – deeply moved me. I gave her a – I hope – grateful nod and looked away, composing the emotions that ran wild, raw and untamed, after the accident.

“Are you a patient here?” She asked. I raised my eyes to look at her again and noticed she was wearing a white uniform, akin to the nurses I was used to see, with an identification card that read “C. Beauchamp. Trainee.

“Aye.” I swallowed hard, attempting at nonchalance. “I have the pleasure of being a guest of the Burn Unit.”

“Ah.” Her eyes softened – it marvelled me how they changed so significantly, reflecting her states of mind. I was prepared to see the pity that always followed such a statement – but it never came. Her face was a mirror of sympathy and concern – but she wasn’t about to treat me as an invalid. “Good thing you’re able to come outside, then. Such a splendid day, today! I had been dreaming all morning of eating my sandwich outside.”

“Do ye work here?” I questioned, watching as she unwrapped and bit her sandwich – egg and tomato on rye bread – with a satisfaction that made my own mouth water.

“Nurse in training.” She explained, closing her eyes in delight for the utter brilliance of her simple pan. “Actually it’s my last day here.”

“I wish I could say the same.” I gave her a lopsided smile and she laughed – a bit too loud and carefree, like a delighted child. For a moment I forgot where I was and why I sat so uptight – she made me forget things. She made me remember others too – transparent things, important things, that could carve the exit from my self-imposed prison.

“The food isn’t that bad.” She joked, offering me some salt and vinegar chips that she had started to munch. Her eyes searched the plastic bracelet on my arm, easily reading my name there. “Jamie.”

“Hmmm.” I smiled, conceding at the personal treatment. “I’m afraid I miss my morning parritch…” I looked at her expectantly, waiting for her to reveal her identity in return.

Claire.” She laughed, playfully saluting me with her joined fingers like a soldier. “Nice to meet you. Again.”

We stayed in amiable silence, as she completed her picnic-style lunch and I continued to study the world around me, through the eyes of a dead-man walking. But the trees where suddenly greener again and the distant voices seemed to speak to me, teasing me but finally within my reach.

“Thank ye,” I said slowly, tapping my fingers on my leg – much thinner than usual, muscles having been consumed in the furnace of my recovery. “For not asking - about what happened.”

Claire glanced at me – I saw again the same wise-beyond-her-years look, the soul that knew pain and how to heal it, which had held me together ten years before. “I didn’t think it mattered.”

I raised my brows, surprised. “It’s all everyone wants to talk about.”

“You can tell me, if you want to.” She licked her lips for crumbs and smiled, tilting her chin to expose her face to the sun. She resembled a lazy cat, stretching under the warmth, gathering enough energy to wreak havoc afterwards. “But I know you’re here and whole and that’s enough for me.”

“Is it?” I whispered, smiling beyond myself.

“Yes.” Claire threw me an evaluating glare, like she could read into my soul and was ready to challenge the defeatist thoughts that resided there. “Is it enough for you?”

“It hasn’t been…” I admitted, brushing my unusually short hair – another thing lost during the first days in hospital care. “But perhaps I’m beginning to see things differently.”

“I’m glad.” She smiled tenderly – and she seemed truly content. For the first time in weeks I noticed my heart galloping inside my chest, strong and lively, as able to be moved and broken as ever before.

“Jamie!” Jenny waved at me from the door, calling me to get back to my room – it was time for another dose of intravenous antibiotics and physical therapy. I raised my hand in response and slowly got up – whimpering and trembling a little, to my mortification. Claire’s hand quickly came to help stabilize me, holding my chest, as if she had guessed that my back was the source of all pain.

“Ye should be a doctor.” The words burst from my mouth, sounding strangely calm and confident. “Ye’ll be a wonderful nurse – but ye could be a brilliant doctor.”

She looked surprised – an image that suited her, for it was screamed from every trembling muscle, flutter of lashes and promise of smile in the corners of her mouth. Claire’s face spoke of truth as mine spoke of loss and of gratitude to her.

I waved in short goodbye and walked away slowly, holding my crutch for support.

When the physical therapist pressed me to give more, I gritted my teeth and did it, even if cursing every generation before him inside my head. When the nurses applauded the results of the healing grafts, I allowed myself to share the happiness, instead of focusing on everything still left to be done. When the quiet night came, I closed my eyes and dared to plan a life to come.

Claire Beauchamp. The woman who seemed to appear when my need was greatest. I wished I could talk to her and tell her that I had been scared – of living and failing to be enough – but she had healed me, like new and joyous blood cast into my veins. Unfortunately, I had only her name – no phone or address I could use to contact her.

The next time I saw her, she was wearing a black dress, in the middle of a night with no stars.

Scientists have developed a more realistic lab-grown skin

For the first time, a lab in Japan has grown skin that does more than feel — it sweats, self-lubricates and even grows hair. It could change everything from chemical testing on animals to skin grafts on burn victims — and you don’t even have to steal skin from your butt to use it. Skin substitutes already exist and are used to treat burn patients. But this takes it to the next level.

Follow @the-future-now


What does it mean to be human? In Lidia Yuknavitch’s new novel The Book of Joan, what’s left of the human race is orbiting above the Earth, sexless and ageless, prisoners in a technological hell. Their lives are preserved through growing limbs and grafting skin. Presiding over it all is a one-time billionaire celebrity who evolved through media and technology into a despot. His adversary is a girl called Joan.

Check out Lidia Yuknavitch’s conversation with Lulu Garcia-Navarro here.

– Petra


Originally posted by performanceunit

  • 2/3 of the intern crew
  • intern Seungkwan, probably the softest intern right alongside Chan
  • he cries, a lot

  • because it’s a hospital, death is a common occurrence for many doctors, death comes and goes, some deaths are taken harder than others, but overall, it’s not uncommon for a death to occur every day

  • but for intern Seungkwan, all deaths just have the same effect on him

  • they make him bawl his eyes out

  • thank goodness for grief counselor Joshua who is always there to pick him up (when he’s not distracted by his girlfriend)

  • often found hanging out with Hansol in the doctor’s lounge

  • also often seen whispering with Jeonghan behind the nurses station (some guess they’re gossiping, they are correct)

  • knows all the gossip of hookups, dating issues, who has the hots for who, and who dropped the 5 boxes of doughnuts in the doctor’s lounge

  • is mostly likely the one to start the whole “this person as a crush on this person”

  • is the know it all during rounds, but he’s not the one raising his hand every five seconds, nah he’s the one that says the answer in a snarky way when someone gets it wrong

  • struggled with putting in IV’s the first week but mama nurse Jeonghan helped his child

  • watched Hansol get his skateboard taken away by Jihoon, and he watched while eating popcorn which made it just seem much more dramatic

  • told Hansol that he was doing rounds when Hansol had his hand stuck up a vending machine but really he was in line at Starbucks during his break and the line was really long and by the time he was up at the front it already had been too long so Seungkwan assumed Hansol had gotten out so he went to go eat too and study, and when he arrived back at the hospital to cover a shift, he heard Hansol was still stuck

  • Doctors have constantly told Seungkwan that he is not cut out to be a doctor because he has too much of an emotional attachment to his patients

  • but Seungkwan is always like ‘fuck you I can do it’ with tears running down his face

  • it took a while for Seungkwan to know what he wanted to specialize in

  • but he remembers it clearly how the surgery department was trying to decide which intern gets to be in which operating room and he’s watching this really intense game of rock paper scissors and all he knows is that in the end, he’s assigned to a Doctor Jun who specializes in plastic surgery

  • Seungkwan did not want to do it, because well in his mind, he thought he was just going to have to assist a woman who wanted larger breast

  • But before going into the operating room, Jun kind of fills him in

  • “we’re working on a burn victim who was apart of the giant arson incident that occured in the apartment building.”

  • “wait, burn victim?”

  • “yeah, come on, we don’t have time”

  • and thus Seungkwan is standing in the operating room, staring in amazement as Jun performs a skin graft on a patient’s face and suddenly the whole world of plastic surgery is opened in front of Seungkwan

  • Seungkwan is set on becoming a plastic surgeon, because of this, he begins to bother Jun nonstop about wanting Jun to be his mentor

  • and Jun is just really uncomfortable because wow Seungkwan comes off strong

  • “Please please please, I really really want to be a plastic surgeon please please be my mentor”

  • *cue Jun looking at his pager praying to the gods that someone pages him*

  • you happen to be Jun’s girlfriend’s sister (understand?)

  • so basically Jun’s sister in law

  • but it was during one of those days that Seungkwan was bugging Jun, and he was praying once again to get out this situation, and the Gods decided to send you

  • jumping into the cafe in the hospital, Jun literally sighed in relief when he saw you approaching him

  • “Oh thank god Y/N”

  • “Hi Jun, my sister wanted me to tell you that she’s finishing up with a patient and she said that you have my paper”

  • When Seungkwan sees you, the word ‘woah’ slips from his mouth because that’s all he can think when he sees you

  • you’re looking at Seungkwan curiously too because ‘ooh cute boy alert’ and you kind of give Jun a look that’s like bruh introduce me and Jun sighs

  • “Y/N this is Seungkwan, Seungkwan this is Y/N, she’s my girlfriend’s sister and she’s only here because she asked me to look over her paper on tissue expansion in plastic surgery”

  • Seungkwan brights up because pretty girl is also interested in plastic surgery!!!!!

  • so you sit with Seungkwan at the table, excitedly talking about plastic surgery and everything about it before suddenly the topic of plastic surgery isn’t even relevant anymore and you two are screaming about the flowers outside

  • you two don’t even notice that Jun had left like 30 minutes ago but when the conversation starts to die down, there’s a small content smile on both of your faces

  • Seungkwan finds out that you intern at another hospital in the city and that you kind of use Jun to your advantage but it’s okay, Jun wants you to excel too

  • but now Seungkwan is finding himself waiting outside your hospital for your shift to end just so you two can spend 30 minutes at a coffee house drinking coffee that turns cold because you two keep talking excitedly

  • Hansol: “Hey Seungkwan wanna hang out after our shifts”

  • “I can’t, I’m going out with Y/N”

  • “Like on a date”

  • “No! We’re just friends! Gosh!”

  • Remember how Seungkwan was the one to spread gossip about others liking each other, well it’s Hansol’s turn to get payback

  • “Seungkwan has a crush on Jun’s sister in law”

  • Seungkwan knows he has a crush on you though and he’s internally crying about it because he doesn’t know what to do with it

  • You’re out with Seungkwan after your shift, you two are walking to the cafe that actually stays open until midnight, but it’s cold since fall is starting to turn into winter, and when you get to the cafe, it seems as though they’re closed for some maintenance

  • and now you and Seungkwan are standing awkwardly because this has never happened before and Seungkwan does an awkward laugh like ‘uh I guess we should just go home since it’s late’

  • ‘No.’

  • ‘What?’

  • ‘I want to be with you’

  • And Seungkwan becomes red faced at your comment because wow that was kind of straightforward

  • Everything just calmly fits together well after that, Seungkwan still waits for you after your shifts and you now visit his hospital more frequently

  • You often sit with Seungkwan behind the nurses station, often caught holding hands, and Seungkwan whines a lot, like a lot because you don’t kiss him, and Hansol is cringing in the background

  • Seungkwan also literally dotes on you, he does anything you say and Hansol calls him ‘whipped’ (but then hansol starts running to his girlfriend because she said his name once)

  • because you’re now officially dating Seungkwan, you bug Jun too about taking Seungkwan under his wing

  • And Jun wants to hide because he has Seungkwan bugging him at work and now he has you bugging him when he’s at his girlfriend’s house and HE JUST CAN’T GET PEACE

  • double dates with Hansol and his girlfriend

  • you become really close with Hansol’s girlfriend, and you two basically sit back and talk while Hansol and Seungkwan are doing god knows what

  • But you’ll always end up watching Seungkwan from the corner of your eye with a little smile on your face as he talks loudly at Hansol

  • Seungkwan wants to convince you to come to his hospital and work there but he doesn’t want to inconvenience you

  • but he has the brightest smile on his face, when you finish your internship, you land a job at his hospital and Seungkwan starts to break out in happy tears

  • you and Seungkwan work together as plastic surgeons and you two literally have floating hearts above your heads when you’re standing next to each other

  • Seungkwan would give up his career as a plastic surgeon for you if it ever came down to it. His love for you trumps than his love for his job, and as much as he judges your outfit choices because of ‘color clashes’, you love him just as much as he loves you.

One magitek spine, and a biiiiit of info. 

As promised! (and yeah, my hand’s in agony) Sarnai’s 3 days old and following much talking (and bouncing ideas off @haurchefants) I’ve come up with how he got them, and his connection to Garlemald. 

If you roleplay anyone associated with any wreckt tribes / doman refugees, I have a villain for you!

Sarnai is a young Dotharl warrior. 

Dotharl fight. Dotharl war. Dotharl… are not a nice tribe. At all. In the midst of curbstomping a rival tribe, Sarnai was injured. Horribly. Bruised, bloody, beaten, missing an arm and with a broken back, Sarnai prepared to die within the battlefield - his tribe having moved on their merry way, to kill and pillage so many more tribes with no thought to their own dead or dying.

A passing Garlean patrol stumbled upon the battlefield, en route to Doma, hopelessly lost within the mountains. An opportunistic primus pilus decided to do the best with what opportunity had presented, and decided to take the injured au ra with them - after having a field medic tend to his wounds. As time went on, Sarnai’s information, directions, and advice served the patrol well. When they reached the rest of their legion and prepared to take Doma, Sarnai once again prepared for death. He’d outlived his use, after all. He, above most people, was under no illusions of the fact life was short. He’d survived twenty years. In Dotharl terms, that wasn’t a bad stretch. That, and sepsis was no laughing matter.

And then, for the first time in his life, he was surprised. Following the (unexpectedly) glowing praise he was granted toward the unit’s Tribunus by the primus plius, He was tasked further. 

The fall of Doma was somewhat messy - and as result, had meant that many had fled. The Garleans saw fit to allow “natural elements” to see to handling the survivors. “Natural elements” of course were the surrounding Dotharl. Tasked with re-entering the Dotharl, and handling “recruitment”, (palming off the dying victims of his tribe’s violent nature into Garlean conscription) Sarnai was granted a magitek arm, plus a completely rebuilt magitek spinal column, so he could successfully re-integrate as what he originally was - a warrior, the only thing of worth to the Dotharl - complete with synthetic skin grafts.


Character Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 1529

Warnings: Mentions of being held hostage… nothing too serious.

Request: My dear nemesis, could you please write a story about being a reporter and you get taken by the enemy? You get saved by the Avengers (specifically Bucky) and something sparks between the two of you? - Anon

A/N: So I just kind of ran with this. Hopefully it is what you wanted! If you want a part 2, please let me know… I would be happy to add on to this! Feedback is much appreciated!


Originally posted by timeout

You leaned over the balcony railing and watched the cars down on the New York City streets.

Two months ago, that had been you. Going on with your routine life every day.

Then one night as you were on your way home from work, your routine had been taken away from you.

The sliding glass doors behind you opened and closed. Tony appeared at your side, holding a mug out to you. Taking it from him, you took a sip of the coffee and turned your head to look at him.

“I take back what I said in my article about Stark Tower. This view you have makes up for the gaudiness of the building.” You chuckled at his eyebrow quirk and lopsided smile.

“Wow, was that an apology I heard?” He cocked his head at you, “I’m quite shocked. If my memory serves correct an up and coming, cut-throat reporter writes a scathing story in the Sunday paper about my apparent need to compensate my lack of manhood with ‘gaudy’ and ‘preposterous’ building on the cities north side.”

Keep reading

Play Another One

Summary: Grif might owe Donut another favor soon if he could get something else to make Simmons smile like that. Also on Ao3.

Notes: The song choice was obvious, but I found a banjo cover of it, and since this song is on 80% of grimmons playlists, it felt like a sign. Thanks for the prompt, @riathedreamer​!


It’s not like Grif asked Simmons to become a fucking cyborg.

Grif had been half dead at the time, and probably would have had a better life with the angels and shit, rather than being stuck in this hell that was Blood Gulch.

Or maybe he would have turned into a ghost like Church instead. Although he’d been more corporeal recently. That guy didn’t seem happy. It probably still sucked.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

I was wondering if anyone who has had bottom surgery would talk about the way it feels? Does it become erect naturally? Morning wood? Is standing to pee hard? What's the sexual sensation like? I know they're kind of weird questions but. I'm curious about the little things

Hopefully some people will feel comfortable talking about their own personal experiences, but to answer some of your questions:

Does it become erect naturally?
It depends on the type of lower surgery that you opt for.  Phalloplasty, which uses a skin graft from either the arm, abdomen, or less commonly, the thigh, cannot get spontaneously get erect as there is no erectile tissue.  In order to get an erection with phalloplasty an erectile device is required, taking the form of either a pump or a bendable rod inserted into the phallus.

With metoidioplasty the existing “growth” from testosterone is released and freed up, so the erectile tissue remains the same, allowing it to get erect on its own just as it would before lower surgery.  This means that it would be possible to wake up with “morning wood”.

Is standing to pee hard?

There can be a bit of a mental barrier against standing to pee initially, as your body is trained not to let you pee standing up to avoid you wetting yourself.  After a while your subconscious catches up and realised that it’s now okay.  Some people also find that they get quite pee-shy if they’re using urinals, but this isn’t a problem unique to trans people.

Some people can have issued with dribbling after urinating as there can be some urine left in the new part of the urethra.  Running a hand down the length of the urethra to milk it out can help.  This is more commonly an issue with phalloplasty than with metoidioplasty as the urethra is much longer.

Due to the shorter length of metoidioplasty it can take a little trial and error to find a method of peeing standing that works best.  It can sometimes be too difficult to clear the fly, but most people find that they can pee standing by undoing the top button of the trousers as well.

What’s the sexual sensation like?

Again, this depends on the type of lower surgery.  With phalloplasty they try to hook the existing nerves up to one relocated to the new phallus, where possible, to give sensation down the length of the penis.  There are also a couple of options for what can be done with the original growth, either burying it under the skin where it can still be stimulated, or leaving it nestled between the penis and the scrotum where it can be accessed easier.

With metoidioplasty, as things are rearranged less, sensation should remain very similar to how it was prior to lower surgery.

~ Alex

Mourning Air

Author’s Note: oh no, i’ve made myself very sad. can someone please request jongin fluff so i can feel better holy **title taken from the Portishead song of the same name

Pairing: Kai x Reader (oc; female) (although the gender is kind of ambiguous so you can take it as you wish)

Warnings: heavy angst; swearing; references to cheating

Word count: 1,879

When you look at Jongin, all at once, you are twenty three. 

You are looking at Jongin, and you are twenty three. It’s September, you’re twenty three, and the air is crisp with possibility. In front of you, the future expands and stretches like a safety net. You’re not scared to be reckless, you’re not scared to make mistakes because his fingers are entwined with yours and he’s laughing. He’s laughing, and it sounds like music, like the very noise itself could save you. He’s laughing and you count every single choice you made that got you here, to this sound, and you kiss them all. You’re thankful. You’re happy. The boy of bronze and gold has decided that he loves you.

Keep reading

Begin Again - (Chapter I)

Read the prologue here

Thank you to @marlosbooknook and @mibasiamille for helping me edit and listening to my constant whining, really don’t know why you put up with me but thank you and ily

(Also a note: I’m not a doctor so i’m sorry if some of this is wrong I relied entirely on google and what I remember from my anatomy class. Plus Grey’s Anatomy but that’s not all accurate and a full out shit show at this point so let’s just ignore that)

And thank you all so much for your comments on the prologue, I’m so glad you enjoyed it!


Oxford, England
22nd September 1976

One moment. One tiny, insignificant moment, and his entire world shifted.

It was a head-on collision with a semi: the driver fell asleep at the wheel and veered right in front of him. Jamie didn’t have any time to react; it had all happened so fast.

It was more than likely that he wouldn’t remember any of it, due to the damage to his brain. But his life was no longer in his hands.

First responders arrived at the scene almost five minutes–five long minutes–after it happened. He was unconscious, lying in the middle of the road. The impact of the crash had ejected him from his seat, through the windshield, and onto the street.

The list of injuries were endless: from broken bones to open wounds. Some of the shards of glass from the windows had embedded themselves into his skin, but the rest was scattered on the concrete around him.

The biggest concern of the medical team was his head and spinal cord. It was impossible to tell what state they were in, given that the patient unconscious. They worked as fast as they could to get him on the stretcher and immobilized, while also being careful enough not to jostle him too much. Once he was secured inside the ambulance, he was rushed to the A&E.

He was only going to work. It was supposed to be like any other day.

None of this was supposed to happen.

They took him from the ambulance directly into the OR, assessing the damage and figuring out how to proceed from there.

Over the course of the next few months, he would be in that OR three times.

His condition was critical and he couldn’t be under anesthesia for very long, so the surgeries had to be spread out, allowing his body time to recover.

He sustained multiple injuries: right leg broken in two places, once in the left; multiple cracked and broken ribs; the right shoulder dislocated and the radius of the left arm severely fractured. A back full of glass, some pieces almost three inches long. Some internal bleeding in the abdomen, but luckily the medical team had found the source in time to stop it. If they hadn’t, it would have caused his brain to hemorrhage and, ultimately, could have ended his life.

There was some bleeding and swelling in his brain that they had gotten under control, but there was no telling the prognosis until he was conscious. Miraculously, however, his spinal cord had remained unharmed.

His right hand was the worst of it: the bones of his ring finger were almost completely shattered, the middle finger a compound fracture, the bone sticking obtrusively through the skin. They predicted that he wouldn’t regain full range of motion in that hand again, but with lots of physical therapy it could come close.

The first surgery was getting the bleeding in his abdomen and brain under control, as well as the swelling. Then, debriding his back and several other places on his body, followed by cleaning every wound to reduce the risk of infection.

Unfortunately, that was all they could do for the day.

The next day was setting the broken bones. Everything went relatively smooth until they got to his hand, which took the longest.

The very last surgery consisted entirely of applying the skin grafts to his back.

After a few weeks, he was able to breathe on his own. In the days that followed, they remained hopeful that he would recover. They waited for him to wake up, each day hoping that today would be the day.

But the days went by, and he never did.

anonymous asked:

If you're taking requests: Josh burns his hands (cooking or something??) and you have to help him get past his injury so he can play again (thanks!)

this turned out so much longer than i anticipated… i hope it was kind of what you wanted though! enjoy xx.


You hear the clatter from the bathroom.  But that wasn’t what caught your attention, Josh dropped things all the time, the loud bang was nothing out of the ordinary.  However, what made you bolt downstairs, your hair still dripping wet, was a loud gasp, followed by an extensive string of cuss words being yelled.  

“Josh?” you call as your bare feet pad down the carpeted stairs.  

In response, you just hear more swearing.

You turn the corner fast, nearly slipping on the floor in the process before you’re in the kitchen, the source of all the commotion.

Josh is hunched over, his back facing you.  

“Josh, what happened?” you ask, taking in the site before you.  There was a pot on the floor, laying sideways with food spilling out of it.  The counter looked like a hurricane had hit.  Cups and food were splattered over the granite surface.  

As Josh turned around you gasped out loud, his hand was blistering red as he clutched it to his shirt.  He had a towel over it, clearly trying to absorb some of the scalding hot water that had spilled over his skin.

“I was trying to strain the water—“ he explains, as you rush over to his side.  

You get a good glimpse of the skin as Josh turns towards the sink and have to swallow the bile that arises in your throat.  His hand is raw, looking like something inhuman.  Your eyes widen, but you try to remain calm, for his sake.  

You turn the tap on for him, and help him place his arm underneath the water.  

As soon as the water touches his skin he cries out in pain.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” you try to soothe as you rub his back over the cotton fabric.  

“Y/N—“ Josh stammers, panic evident in his voice, “my hand is… raw.  Oh my god.”

“It’s gonna be fine, Josh,” you say as calmly as you can.  “We’re gonna get you to the hospital, okay?”

He nods slowly, his eyes fixated on his scalded skin.  

“We have to cover that up—“ you say.  You knew nothing about burn treatment, but it just seemed to make sense, that raw skin shouldn’t be left completely exposed.  “I’ll be right back,” you mumble before rushing back upstairs.

You dig through Josh’s dresser, finding his softest, cotton shirt and bundling it up in your hand.  When you reenter the kitchen, Josh is right where you left him, standing above the sink, looking paler and paler by the second.

“Here,” you whisper as you gingerly have him extend his arm.  Stretching out the scorched skin must be extremely painful, but Josh bites his lower lip and squeezes his eyes shut, trying to keep from screaming.  You carefully lay the cotton over his arm and wrap it only once.  

“What if I can’t drum anymore?” he asks you quietly.  

You look up at him and make eye contact before your face softens.  “Let’s not think about that right now,” is all you say before gently placing your hand on Josh’s lower back and leading him out of the house.

Luckily, the two of you didn’t live too far from the hospital, because Josh was writhing in pain beside you.  The longer he went without treatment, the more the initial shock of the injury wore off.  You kept throwing him side-glances and cringed at the sight of him.  He was shaking violently in the passengers seat, his core temperature obviously not normal.

“We’re almost there, baby—“ You reach out and touch his leg in an attempt to soothe him.  Almost immediately, Josh grips your hand with his good one, squeezing tightly.  You let him clutch onto you and ignore just how hard he was crushing you.  

You finally pull into a spot at the ER and rush around the car to help Josh with the door.

The whole process takes forever.  Your insides ache at the sight of him being in so much pain, but you hold his hand the entire time, despite how clammy his skin was becoming.  Once it’s deemed that Josh does not in fact need skin grafts, you’re both free to go home.  

Josh is pretty laced up with medication for the next few days.  The oxytocin is strong and Josh sleeps the majority of the next week away. But that doesn’t stop family from visiting nonstop.  You know they’re all just trying to help, but between making sure Josh had everything he needed, and now entertaining your in-laws daily, you had just about hit your max-stress level.  

The only time you felt like you were having help rather than guests was when Tyler and Jenna visited during the weekend.  Jenna helped you package away portions of the endless casseroles you had been made by Josh’s mom and aunts.  

“He didn’t die…” you say confused, putting another tupperware container in the freezer.  “Isn’t this something people do when someone dies?”  

Jenna loads another serving of the shepherd’s pie into another container.  “Yeah, this is a little excessive.”

When you’re finished, you join the boys in the living room, where Josh is perched on the couch with his arm bandaged up and just talk for the remainder of the afternoon.

Tyler jokes about Josh’s groggy state, “You’ll have to wean him off soon, or else we’ll have an addict on our hands,” he says, chuckling.

But there’s a big elephant in the room.  One that you knew everyone was thinking about, but none dared to mention.  

You’re the one who finally brings it up, but not until Tyler and Jenna are heading out the door, and you know Josh can’t hear.

“What about the tour?”

Tyler sighs and scratched the back of his head.  “I mean, he’s obviously not going to be drumming anytime soon—“

“But can you just cancel a tour, is that like— even possible?” You’re surprised when you notice how choked your voice sounds, the last thing you want to do is cry in front of Tyler, yet there you were, wiping a tear from your cheek.

“Don’t worry about that,” Tyler says softly, extending his hand and giving your arm a gentle rub.  “You have enough to worry about here, okay?  I’ll take care of all the tour stuff.”

“Let us know if you need anything, okay?” Jenna says kindly, giving you a hug.

You nod, gratefully before thanking him and Jenna for stopping by.  

Your new least favorite time of day was morning.  Because as soon as Josh woke up, his bandage needed to be changed.   You hear movement from the bedroom and you sigh heavily, putting down your cup of coffee and trudging up the stairs.  

Josh was in the bathroom when you entered, brushing his teeth.  You leaned against the doorframe and chuckled at how crazy his blonde hair looked, sticking up in all directions.

“How’d you sleep?” you ask.  

He spits out the toothpaste before responding, “Awful, like always.”

You sigh before walking over to him.  Josh was instructed to cut his pain medicine in half after the first weeks.  He was increasingly irritable ever since, especially since he tossed and turned most nights.  You wrapped your arms around his bare body and squeezed him tightly, wanting him to know, more than anything, how much you loved him.  

He sighed before hugging you back.  He plants a kiss on the top of your head before letting go and proceeding to sit on the lid of the toilet seat, like he was trained for what came next.  

You grabbed the kit of bandages and antibiotics that the doctors had given you and kneeled in front of him.  

You pulled off the old bandage as gently as you could, trying not to let it stick or pull in any spots.  You watched as Josh twisted his face in pain, several times, making you feel guilty and go slower.  

Once it was finally off, you sat for a moment, instructed to “let the skin breathe” by your doctor.  Josh inspected the burn, twisting his arm and checking out how everything was healing.  

“My fingers are so stiff,” he says quietly.  

“You’re healing so fast though, baby,” you say encouragingly.  “The skin’s so much better already.”

“Tyler’s canceling the tour, isn’t he?” he says.

You’re taken back by his question, but then again, it was only a matter of time before he suspected it.  Their tour was due to start in a month, and with Josh’s state, he’d be lucky to be holding anything by then.  

“Yeah,” you say empathetically as you gently rub his knee.  

His face falls and his eyes stare at the floor sadly.

“Josh, you’ll get there—“ you say hopefully.  “You will.”

He nods slowly, before picking up the antibiotic cream from the kit and handing it to you.  

You pierce your lips together before taking the tube.  You slip on the sterile pair of gloves and squeeze a generous amount of the cream on your finger.   “Ready?” you ask, and he nods.

He inhales sharply as soon as your fingers come in contact with his skin.  As soon as you start to rub, he’s writhing, using his good arm to hold his hand down in order to keep it from flailing.  

“I’m sorry—“ you mumble as he bites his lip.  

Finally, when you’ve covered the skin and it’s glistening with the cream, you grab the bandage and wrap it around his hand as best you can.  

You were relieved to be finished, almost as much as Josh probably was.  You hated to hurt him, but every morning, you had to.  

“How bad was it?” you ask.  Josh was still perched on the toilet seat and you were still kneeling in between his legs.  You run your hands over the sides of his thighs gently, trying your best to soothe him, once again.  

“It’s fine,” he says, his eyes still squeezed shut.  “Y/N…” he says after a pause.  “What if I can never play again?”

“No, no, no—“ you say, “Josh, you can’t think like that.  It’s only been a few weeks.  You’re gonna get better.”

“But what if I’m not as good anymore?  What if I can’t hold my drum sticks the same?”

“That’s not going to hap—“

“But what if?” he interrupts.  His voice is panicky and his eyes are starting to get glossy with tears.  

You squeeze his good hand with both of yours tightly.  “Then we’ll deal with it, okay?”  

He nods, blinking sharply and letting a couple of tears fall down his cheeks.  

You stand up then and bend over to plant a kiss on his lips.  “But it’s not going to happen,” you assure him before cleaning up the dirty bandages from the floor.  

Weeks of healing turned into a month and then two months, and you can tell that more than anything, Josh is getting bored with being home so much.  You two go out, or at least you try to think of stuff for the two of you to do.  You visit friends, you eat at restaurants, you explore the city.  And Josh is almost always willing to entertain your silly attempts at entertaining him.  But you can just tell how restless he was becoming.  Nothing compared to the constant stimulation of life on the road like Josh is used to.  

You get a call from the doctor’s office the next morning.

“Y/N?,” your doctor says though the phone, “It’s Dr. B, I wanted to let you know that after yesterday’s visit, we’re pretty confident that Josh can resume his normal, everyday activities.  His healing has progressed nicely, and now that we’re no longer concerned about infection, we think he can ease his way back into things.”

“What about drumming?—“ you say immediately.

There’s a slight pause before the doctor speaks again, “I don’t see why he wouldn’t be able to start getting back into it, I would just take it slow,” he recommends.

“So there’s no risk of further damage?” you ask.

“No, nothing like that.  Like I said, just take it slow.”

You thank the doctor before hanging up and rushing upstairs to wake Josh up.  

“What’re you doing?” he groans once you’re prodding him awake.

“I have a surprise for you today, so get up.”

While Josh got dressed, you texted Tyler, asking him to meet you in your garage that morning.  Josh’s drum kit was all set up already, but you thought having Tyler there for support would be ideal.  

Luckily, Tyler was available and was excited to hear the news about Josh.  

You clutched his hand in yours as you walked down the hallway.

“So where are we going today?” he chuckles.  

“It’s not too far…” you say, opening the door to the garage.  Josh goes towards the car, but turns and looks at you when you don’t follow.

“We’re here,” you say, smiling.

He twists his face in confusion.

“The doctors called today,” you say smiling.  “They said you can… what was the phrase, “resume your normal, everyday activities’”

Josh’s face breaks into a huge smile.  “Really?” he asks.

“Yeah, he called like maybe twenty minutes ago.”

Josh looks over at his drum set, resting in the corner of the garage.  He smiles cheekily at you before walking over.

“I texted Tyler,” you say, “he should be over any minute to play with you.”

“Wow…” Josh whispers.  He sits down on the stool and gingerly picks up both sticks.  You watch as he twirls it around between his fingers, testing out how it feels.

“Does it hurt?” you ask quietly.

“A little,” he mumbles before giving it a gentle squeeze.  “But I think I can do it…”  

You smile widely, so relieved that Josh had even a sliver of confidence in himself.  

You walk over and plant a kiss on his lips.  “Of course you can do it.”

Just then, Tyler’s walking in through the open garage door holding in hand his ukulele.  

“Dude!” he shouts, smiling big.

“I can resume normal activities!” Josh laughs back.  

Tyler gives Josh one of his signature ‘bro-hugs’ before they presume talking.

As Tyler goes to plug his amp in, you whisper to Josh, “I’m gonna go make some breakfast,” before scooting out.  

You’re in the middle of flipping pancakes when you hear the drums start.  The beat’s soft at first, but increases slowly.  It’s perfect rhythm, and flows so nicely with Tyler’s voice.  You cover your mouth with your hand and don’t hold back the tears that fall.  You were so proud of your boy, you knew he could do it.  


The split skin graft; it involves the harvesting of a sheet of skin comprising epidermis and varying thickness of dermis, naturally this process involves the creation of a superficial wound that is the donor site, the donor site heals by a process of re-epithelialization; epithelial cells migrate across the wound surface from the rim of the wound and the edges of various structures in the dermal layer, such as sebaceous glands and hair follicles, this process results in an epithelial cover of the split-thickness skin graft donor site usually within 7–14 days.