No title available
d e v o n
tumblr dot com
AnasAbdin
Keni
@theartofmadeline
hello vonnie
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
#extradirty
titsay
JVL
Today's Document
styofa doing anything
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
noise dept.
DEAR READER
🪼
Stranger Things
almost home
KIROKAZE
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from Chile
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Türkiye
seen from Malaysia
seen from Brazil
seen from Italy
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Spain
seen from Italy
@surgeongeneralsanchez
{HEYYY I have a thing to announce: I’m in the fuckdeep process of working crazy overtime to put as much sweet loot into my savings as possible. I’m picking up and moving from one coast to another (that’s exactly 2,203 miles) in early September so this blog will be full of tumbleweeds til I’m settled into my new job and apartment. Feel free to talk to me ooc or whatever. See y'all on the flipside, motherfuckers}
ti u ho i fo
y phon ht itlf n i ont b tponing proprly for. bit
utuuggghhhghghgghhhggghggghhglhl
hlpomfg
hlghgghhhg
STARTING THE DAY GRANDPA RICK'S WAY
HOOOO DOCTOR RICK IS WAY TOO HODDAM DRUNK RIGHT NOQ
He retched around the fingers jammed into his throat, eyes welling with tears as he groaned shortly after. He tried to murmur something but it only come out as a broken mumble. Rick dug his fingers into his alternate self's chest and rutted against the hand between his legs. It felt almost too hot in the operation theater despite the cold tile pressed against his back, freezing sterile air nearly suffocating him. Rick could feel himself beginning to tremble with desperation. He hated that he loved that feeling. He pulled his head away only to speak, saliva trailing down his chin.
"You gonna... gonna bleed me dry? Paint my walls with my own blood, sweetheart?" The breathy words were just as slurred as if he were drunk.
Hell, he might as well have been. He felt that familiar tingling, a sort of buzzing electricity accumulating in his core. It felt like he was deprived of every single sensation he needed so fucking badly. There weren't enough hands on him, not enough teeth tearing into his skin and making him howl in pain. The malevolent Rick was beating him at his own game and fuck, he didn't know what he was missing out on all this time. Guess he'd find out.
“An examination,” He echoed, snatching the cigarette from his duplicate’s hand.
“I think you need legitimate treatment for a blood condition such as that. Well, uh… mainly because anemia isn’t a disease. It’s a symptom.” Smoke rushed out of his mouth as he spoke. “But who am I to say what the fuck is wrong with you?”
He grinned before placing the cigarette back in Rick’s mouth, his occupied hand still around his throat. His grip tightened as he calculated his next move. He knew exactly what this evil son of a bitch wanted and he would give it to him in full force if he had to.
“Can’t tell you how many twisted Ricks have come in here looking for a little TLC from their resident surgeon. I have all types in here. Future, past, even that C-137 goon. I’ll admit, I even killed a few. Some accidental, some got too pushy and needed the wrong kinda cut with a no. 22A blade, y’know?” Rick pulled him uncomfortably close, the lit end of the cigarette threatening to burn his cheek.
“I think I’ve had more in here for my drugs rather than getting their vital organs fucked by a drunken physician. One even wanted me to fuck his Morty’s eyeholes after I dosed him up with fentanyl and cut his eyes out. Weird sons of bitches. But I always have to ask what’s in it for me? Do I get to keep one of your kidneys? Sell your spleen to that shyster salesman? What do I get out of this? You feel me, pendejo?” He rambled on, all the while forcing his counterpart against the cold tile wall adjacent to them.
Rick would love to see what kind of answer he got.
Evil Rick could take a blade in the guts any day of the week, what he wouldn’t tolerate was a blow to his ego and as the other was already beginning to question his worth and had the gall to call him ‘stupid,’ predictably he snapped. The derisive mention of his ex; C-137, only served to further enrage him.
“What’s in it for you?” He replied incredulously, flicking his cigarette across the room, immediately signalling his change of mood. “Motherfucker do…do you know who I am?” He brought his arm across to smack the Surgeon’s hand from his neck and immediately brought his own up to grip tightly around the Surgeon’s throat in a brutal and well practiced stranglehold. With this grip he started to back the Doctor towards the wall at the opposite side of the room, all the while spitting his words like venom in his face.
“I have Ricks begging…begging for even…even the slightest semblance of my attention and you, you have the fucking audacity to ask what’s in it for you?” They had reached the wall now and he was pleased at how easily he had found it to manoeuvre the good Doctor; it seemed his suit had literally inflated his perceived size. As they collided with the wall he made sure to knock the Surgeon’s head against it. Swiftly, his other hand moved to the Surgeon’s face to grip harshly at his cheeks and force his mouth to open. “I…I should take your fucking tongue, I…I’ve certainly done worse for less.”
Rick grinned as the killer handled him so roughly, appreciating the blossoming headache from the tile. Sticking his tongue out, he gave a snarky wink.
"Take it out and... and let my mouth fill up with that nice warm bl-blood. It's like you know just how to get me riled up." His words were muffled by the hand holding his mouth open.
Turning his head, he slipped one of Rick's fingers into his mouth, wheezing as he stared dead into the man's eyes. This was getting interesting. Nothing hotter than an angry, ruthless killer having you by the throat. The doctor was usually the one with the upper hand but hell if he minded being pushed around by the right Rick.
He tried to close the space between their bodies, desperately grabbing for the other's coat to pull him closer. Breathing became a little more difficult as Rick stupidly leaned into the tight grasp on his fragile trachea.
http://drop-the-dagger.deviantart.com/
@surgeongeneralsanchez How about a full body examination sometime? I think you’ve got the skilled hands for it!
Seems about right.
“An examination,” He echoed, snatching the cigarette from his duplicate’s hand.
“I think you need legitimate treatment for a blood condition such as that. Well, uh... mainly because anemia isn’t a disease. It’s a symptom.” Smoke rushed out of his mouth as he spoke. “But who am I to say what the fuck is wrong with you?”
He grinned before placing the cigarette back in Rick’s mouth, his occupied hand still around his throat. His grip tightened as he calculated his next move. He knew exactly what this evil son of a bitch wanted and he would give it to him in full force if he had to.
“Can’t tell you how many twisted Ricks have come in here looking for a little TLC from their resident surgeon. I have all types in here. Future, past, even that C-137 goon. I’ll admit, I even killed a few. Some accidental, some got too pushy and needed the wrong kinda cut with a no. 22A blade, y’know?” Rick pulled him uncomfortably close, the lit end of the cigarette threatening to burn his cheek.
“I think I’ve had more in here for my drugs rather than getting their vital organs fucked by a drunken physician. One even wanted me to fuck his Morty’s eyeholes after I dosed him up with fentanyl and cut his eyes out. Weird sons of bitches. But I always have to ask what’s in it for me? Do I get to keep one of your kidneys? Sell your spleen to that shyster salesman? What do I get out of this? You feel me, pendejo?” He rambled on, all the while forcing his counterpart against the cold tile wall adjacent to them.
Rick would love to see what kind of answer he got.
title: SICK BASTARD - a shitfest amalgamation of music for a shitfest amalgamation of a man
for: RICK SANCHEZ
(8tracks)
tracklist:
1. THE SCIENTIST | flux pavilion
2. DULL BOY | the growlers
3. RAISE HELL | dorothy
4. WHAT DO YOU WANT | gotye
5. BELISPEAK | purity ring
6. BOTTOM OF THE RIVER | delta rae
7. CALM LIKE YOU | the last shadow puppets
8. HONGKONGATON (edit) | gorillaz
@surgeongeneralsanchez
{Oh hey I got around to shittily doodling my muse nice}
Hey, are you a conditioned stimulus? Because you're making me drool
I... I don't think I'm the real charm-master here. Give it up, ladies and gentlemen.
Doctor, Did you damage my cerebellum? Because I'm falling all over the place for you.
MOVES TOO SMOOTH FOR THIS OLD MAN.
My sudden protracted cardiac arrhythmia makes me think I'm falling for you
Gotta nickname you pyrosis 'cus holy shit you have my heart on fire.
Operate
@surgeongeneralsanchez
Evil Rick entered Surgeon Rick’s clinic and cast his eyes over the place; it was eye-wateringly pristine, all shining glass and modern reflective surfaces with lights so bright he could already feel them burning through his retinas. It wasn’t a comfortable environment, he liked that.
Surveying the room the first thing that predictably caught his eye was the metal trolley in the corner equipped with an impressive selection of gleaming surgical instruments. Without thinking he danced his fingers over the cold tools and picked up a particularly sharp looking scalpel, one much sharper than that which permanently lay tucked behind his ear. He held it between his fingers much like a pencil and examined it in the light; he’d always had a medical fetish, one that had existed for as long as he could remember, the scent of fresh blood mixed with antiseptic was always enough to make him member begin to uncrease.
Already his mind was filling with his unspoken desires, he wanted to feel the tip of the surgeon’s sharp blade not only dance across his pale chest but plunge deeply within it. He wanted to be held on the brink of unconsciousness so he could feel the Doctor cracking open his rib cage to sweep in skilled hands and massage his heart. He dreamed of the Surgeon keeping him on the edge of organ failure and cardiac arrest. He tried to suppress images playing in his mind of the sadistic Doctor hunched over him, panting drooling and aroused, the Physician gripping and pulling to bring himself to a violent climax which he would pledge all over Evil Rick’s pinned back, openly exposed red-wet abdomen. It wasn’t a death wish so to speak, it was surgical violation he craved and he knew that this Rick was the only Rick who might be able to give him even a small taste of this.
He took slow cautious steps towards the good Doctor who at the moment seemed to be entirely unaware of his presence. As he approached his alternative he teasingly placed the sharp tip of the steel instrument against his own throat.
“My, what sharp scalpels you have D-Doctor.” He crooned with a grin as he made the tiniest of incisions forcing four perfectly formed pearls of blood to bubble just above his Adam’s apple. “All the better to cut me with?” he whispered, sweeping the tips of his fingers across his throat to spread the viscid crimson down his hand. Maintaining constant intense eye contact with the Surgeon he licked his tongue up his palm to collect every trace of the vital liquids he had spilled, simultaneously managing to tint his bottom lip a lurid red.
Hearing his own voice low and tantalizing made him jump at first. It was when he processed what exactly was happening that he stopped himself from reaching for a weapon to kill the motherfucker with. Rick’s eyes were fixated on his counterpart’s throat, the remnants of blood just enough to get him interested. The crooked man before him had glistening, diluted blood trailing down his lip and fuck if he was going to not take up on that opportunity.
“You don’t know how to fuckin’ knock, do you?” Rick tried his best to sound irritated, eyes stuck on the other’s mouth.
He didn’t allow a smartass answer, instead interrupting any hopes of a comeback by closing the space between them. A hand around the intruding Rick’s injured throat, he forced him closer, tongue slithering along his metallic-tasting lips.
“You aren’t anemic, are you?” His tone shifted to that of a concerned medical professional, fingers still digging into Rick’s skin.
"It's true, you uh... you literally asked for it." Rick laughed as he set the empty syringe aside.
"Now we can get down to the important part," He rested a hand on the salesman's cheek and spoke slowly, feeling him become flushed and warm as the chemicals bound to delicate receptors in his brain.
"Cutting you the fuck open."
The doctor had a map in his mind and held onto it while reaching for a scalpel. A no. 10 blade in hand, he started gently sliding the zirconium-nitride sealed edge against the curve of where Ric's floating rib would be. More distal than proximal to his midline should give him proper access, if his meticulous planning served correct.
"Hope you know, I'm-I'm about to cut through a regularly REALLY sensitive collection of muscles." Rick narrated the procedure as he went.
The scalpel sliced through the fresh red fibers like a hot knife through butter. Ric probably didn’t even know where he was at this point but he was awake and that was all that mattered. The physician felt his own flesh pick up every single bit of sensory input possible as he continued the endeavor into his duplicate self’s guts, goosebumps making him pause to shiver. Fresh blood bubbled up and spilled over into the opening, pooling against the abdominal wall. He still had so much more to be done.
