On making contact, you might notice that the fear gradually rises, but then levels off and after a while it begins to decrease. It is during this last phase that you are getting the benefits of treatment. You are being desensitized. While facing the fear your task is to pay attention to your uncomfortable thoughts and emotional and physical sensations. Dwell on the scary thoughts and images. Do the opposite of what you have been doing, and accept the fears as being possible. Imagine the dreaded future events happening. Say to yourself, “So be it.” Concentrate on the prospect of living in a world of uncertainty of never knowing if and when something bad is going to happen, of never getting over the anxious condition, and so forth and so on. Keep thinking about thoughts and calling up images to deliberately provoke fear. In this way you are using fear to fight fear. You can’t overcome fear by trying to go around it, but only by going through it. Really be aware of the emotions you are experiencing. Also notice your body’s physical reactions. Where do you feel the anxiety in your body? If your heart is beating faster and harder tune in to it. If you have muscle tension focus on that. If you’re breathing faster and harder notice it. Are your stomach and chest tight? Do you feel hot? Are you sweating? If the answer is yes it means that you are on the right track because you’re feeling the fear and letting it burn itself out.
— self-directed treatment for ocd: the irony of doing the opposite written by paul r. munford (emphasis mine)
Character A freaking out a little (or a lot) about Character B's dislocation but B is hypermobile and their reaction is basically just "This again?" 🙄 before popping it back in
Just cut off the exposed parts of my own sutures because they were bothering me (I’m assuming they were meant to be dissolving sutures since I don’t need to go back and have them removed) and I’m not imagining an escaped hospital whumpee actually removing their own sutures.
Sidekick backs away from Hero, her hands shaking just inches above Hero’s torn-open forearm.
“Sidekick…” Hero says weakly, “You alright?”
She shakes her head and pulls her hands back, wrapping them around herself, “No, no. I’m sorry, I can’t do this. I just–I can’t.”
She shakes her head rapidly and paces around Hero, he nods and uses his good arm to stop her. “That’s alright. What I need you to do is go get the first-aid kit from under my bed. Alright? The one from your car isn’t gonna have what I need.”
“Oh,” Sidekick says. She nods and walks out of the kitchen, muttering, “I can do that.”
Hero waits for the bathroom door to close before resituating himself. He angles his arm toward himself and takes the tweezers out of the rubbing alcohol. With a sharp exhale, Hero plunges the tweezers into the wound and digs out a sliver of wood. He grunts and stomps his leg on the ground before pulling the tweezers back out and dropping the splinter on a folded up paper towel. He repeats the process until there’s nothing else in his wound.
He sets the tweezers on the paper towel and leans back on the toilet seat. He exhales slowly and reaches for a towel from the cabinet.
Just as Hero presses the towel on his arm, Sidekick runs back into the room, first-aid kit in hand. “Got it!”
She stares at him, follows his arm to the wound, “Oh.”
Hero sighs and reaches for the kit, “Thanks.”
“You tricked me!” she exclaims. She sways when the blood seeps out from the towel and trickles onto the bathroom counter. “Thank you.”
Hero nods and clicks the kit open, digging through it for gauze bandages. “You need to drive me to the hospital though.”
Whumpril Day 17: Cry For Help/Self Treatment/"I Can't Do This."
Fandom: Star Wars The Bad Batch
Warnings: Spoilers for the last episode of season two, character injuries.
Note: If you want more from this story I will write it! Don't hesitate to let me know! No beta reader we die like Mayday
Summary: Tech survives the fall and now he's gotta live past just the fall.
Tech had calculated the chances of surviving the well over 1,000 foot fall. They were less than 1% but he didn't care. There was no time and he needed his family to make it back alive. They all had bright futures ahead of them and they needed to bring Crosshair home. He didn't hesitate to shoot the remainder of the metal connecting the car. Then he fell. It took around 50 seconds.
Then he woke up. Tech was in agonizing pain but he was alive. He heard voices around him. Then they were gone. The clone felt like he couldn't move. The slightest movement was simply too much pain to bear. However he needed to.
Attempting to move his right arm he came to the conclusion he couldn't. The man moved his left fingers, then hand, then wrist. Screaming in pain he pushed himself slowly up to lean against the remainder of the rail car. If it had landed on him he would have been unrecognizable.
Tears flower down his face and cough in lacerations. The liquid mixed with blood. Tech forced his head up and looked at his body. His left leg was practically destroyed. His right was salvageable. The bones in his salvageable limbs had multiple breaks in them. Tech could already tell there were multiple breaks in his back as well. However they didn't affect his ability to move so none of them affected the spinal cord.
Looking at his torso he was overwhelmed. It was hard to see through the blood. He was covered in larger and smaller gashes.
'I can't do this.' the thought flashed through his head. 'I can't do this. It's too much.' Tech's breathing was shaky and uneven. His vision was blurry from a mix of his injuries and the lack of his goggles.
'You have to it. It is possible' the more logical thought took over his mind. Determination had to beat pain, it had to. His head and heart had to battle his body. 'For them.'
Tech tugged at the top of his right pouch and opened it. His hissed and grabbed the little medical supplies inside. Looking over at the other legs pouch he decided it was worth a try.
Nothing was usable from that side. All the supplies were demolished. That was the pouch that he kept little items to comfort his family with. A small, soft piece of fabric, as well as a pair of earplugs for Hunter, tooth picks for Crosshair, a small, 3-D puzzle for Wrecker, a pocket sized reg manual for Echo, and a small clone trooper doll for Omega. He also kept three hair ties; all black, just in case some one needed them.
Wrapping the largest and most threatening wound took a large amount of time and energy. By the end of it Tech was exhausted.
The sun was mostly gone at that point. He started to hear voices from somewhere around him. Unsure of what else to do Tech pushed himself to speak. "Help" he whispered, desperately.
No one heard him. "Help" Tech's voice broke as he spoke at his normal speaking level. He tried again and no real sound came out.
"Help!" He screamed. The voices grew closer. With all his strength Tech called out again, "help!"
A tall, blue Twi'lek walked over cautiously followed by a black Wookiee, a teenage, human boy, a; if Tech had to guess clone, and a rather short Rodian.
"Come on, we have to help him." The human child spoke. He walked beside the injured clone and kneeled down, "he'll die if we don't."
The Twi'lek looked over to the clone beside her, "do you recognize him? You look surprised."
"No, but I know someone's gonna be missing him. Grawarr, grab him." The Wookiee walked over and gently picked up Tech. He screamed in pain as he was being picked up. Grawarr hummer softly, as if to apologize.
The six made their way back to the village that was around an hour away. The pain forced tears out of Tech's eyes. He slipped unconscious about ten minutes into the journey. He was safe for now. He would need to heal and then find his way back to them and he wouldn't stop until he did.
Characters: Peter One (Tom Holland), Peter Two (Tobey Maguire), Peter Three (Andrew Garfield)
~
“I know I ask you this every time but I’m going to ask again: are you sure you don’t want to go to a doctor for this?” Peter Two pressed.
“No. Yes!” Sprawled face down across his bed, inflamed arm dangling crookedly over the side, Peter One muffled his groan in the covers. “I-I mean yes, I’m sure that no, I don’t want to. I’m the same broke college student you guys were; I can’t burn $400 for them to x-ray my elbow, tell me what I already know, yank it and put it in a sling. You know that! Not to mention the identity risk…It’s too much.”
“The painkillers we have here at home aren’t gonna cut it for you,” Peter Three warned uneasily.
“Nnngh, I can’t imagine it feeling any worse than it already does! I-I’m sure the healing factor will take the edge off as soon as it’s back in place. And the sooner the better, right? Come on, guys, please. Let’s just get it over with!”
Against their better judgment, Two pushed as Three pulled.
It was a blessing that Peter was already lying down. What they could see of his face promptly washed white, a shrill, pitiful squeak-gasp of realization escaping as the pain registered and he went limp.
Cringing on his behalf, Peter Three shuffled his feet guiltily in the carpet. “I, uh, I’d say ‘I told you so’ but…”
Peter Two leaned gingerly to peer closer at their brother. “Yeah, I don’t think he’s conscious to hear you.”
