I Haven't Posted Much Genloss Recently. Omygosh Someone Sedate Me I'm Gonna CRY

i haven't posted much genloss recently. omygosh someone sedate me i'm gonna CRY

The genloss surgery scene from Charlie’s perspective, inspired by this post I made.

HEAVY HEAVY HEAVY gore warning like. seriously.

you can also read it on ao3

It was the smell of antiseptic that hit him first.

Charlie’s mind was fuzzy. His body felt heavy. And cold. Very cold. He didn’t have the strength to open his eyes yet, but he could tell he was lying flat on… something. It wasn’t very comfortable.

The second thing Charlie was aware of were voices. Two of them, one directly to his left, one a little father and more artificial-sounding. A recording, perhaps?

He shifted his head, letting a sliver of light seep through his eyelids. It was dim and greenish and awful. He could vaguely see movement from the left.

A surgical glove snapped. Charlie’s eyes shot open.

He found himself in what appeared to be a hospital room, a dingy fluorescent light casting a yellow-green hue over everything. He was in an old hospital gown, with a pale blue sheet covering the majority of his body.

It was then that he realized he was laid out on an operating table.

Charlie looked up at his surgeon.

He’d seen that damned mask before.

The surgeon themself seemed rather young. Maybe a teen still? They were at least younger than Charlie.

“I don’t want to do this… oh god.”

It was when they started pulling the sheet back to expose Charlie’s bare stomach that he started to fully grasp the situation.

The kid turned to their left and started rummaging through a box of surgical tools.

Oh fuck.

Oh fuck.

“I’m so sorry. I need to- I need to live. You don’t understand I need to live.”

Charlie knew the game. He knew that no one won. He knew that he’d been though it before. He knew he hadn’t been the first. Clearly he hadn’t been the last, either. But this kid… maybe they could be. Maybe they could be the one to stop this cycle.

So Charlie came to a conclusion. He had to endure whatever torment that awaited him in order to give this teen a fighting chance.

A pair of rusted scissors glinted in the light.

Charlie braced.

The teen plunged the scissors into his abdomen, and Charlie screamed. The pain was immediate, a searing fire starting from his center and rippling outwards in waves upon waves of torment. Every part of him screeched in protest and agony as the scissors dug even deeper, tearing upwards through flesh and muscle and sinew. His vision blurred, the room beginning to swirl into a nightmarish, distorted haze. He was vaguely aware of the sweat that was clinging to him, starting to mix with the tears that were streaming down his face.

This needs to happen.

And it kept fucking going.

Fingers dug into his skin and began to pull, shoving aside skin and fat until Charlie had a wonderful view of his entire digestive tract. The teen’s hands dove even deeper, starting to wrap around his intestines and slowly stringing them out.

This needs to happen.

Charlie convulsed, crying out with each twist and tug. He could feel blood beginning to drip down his hands from where his fingernails were digging into his palms. His body was but a stage for this twisted performance.

This needs to happen.

His breaths were ragged, each one hurting more than the last as his heaving chest jostled his torn open stomach. Bolts of anguish radiated out from his core as the teen continued to just dig, shooting tendrils of pain through his veins and into every nerve in his body. The world was hazy and fragmented, blurring and unblurring at a rapidfire pace. The smell of antiseptic had been washed away with the scent of his own blood, metallic and nauseating.

This needs to happen. This needs to happen. This needs to happen.

Charlie shrieked and spasmed as something was ripped from him. His screams echoed against the tiled walls of the room, a desperate plea for release that only fell on deaf ears. Time itself was beginning to warp, stretching into a torturous eternity. Every fiber of his being cried out for mercy. But he knew that none would come.

“What is- what is this?”

Charlie managed to focus his eyes for a brief second on what the teen was holding. It took him a bit to actually understand what he was seeing, with his mind so fogged with pain and the object completely drenched in his own blood, but after a moment he realized:

It was a game piece, from Mousetrap. It was the missing piece of a puzzle.

Charlie would’ve sighed with relief if he could actually breathe. They got the piece. He had no idea how the fuck it got inside of him, and frankly he didn’t really want to, but they got it. They had a chance. That made it all worth it.

The kid had what they needed. But of course, they didn’t know that. So onwards they went, continuing their merciless work of ravaging through Charlie’s torso, gutting him for all the world the see. Time lost its meaning. His body was nothing but a vessel for agony. But he had to hold onto that hope. He had to hope this kid, whoever they were, would be the one to break the cycle. He just had to.

He just fucking had to.

This genre of cc image

i haven't posted much genloss recently. omygosh someone sedate me i'm gonna CRY

The genloss surgery scene from Charlie’s perspective, inspired by this post I made.

HEAVY HEAVY HEAVY gore warning like. seriously.

you can also read it on ao3

It was the smell of antiseptic that hit him first.

Charlie’s mind was fuzzy. His body felt heavy. And cold. Very cold. He didn’t have the strength to open his eyes yet, but he could tell he was lying flat on… something. It wasn’t very comfortable.

The second thing Charlie was aware of were voices. Two of them, one directly to his left, one a little father and more artificial-sounding. A recording, perhaps?

He shifted his head, letting a sliver of light seep through his eyelids. It was dim and greenish and awful. He could vaguely see movement from the left.

A surgical glove snapped. Charlie’s eyes shot open.

He found himself in what appeared to be a hospital room, a dingy fluorescent light casting a yellow-green hue over everything. He was in an old hospital gown, with a pale blue sheet covering the majority of his body.

It was then that he realized he was laid out on an operating table.

Charlie looked up at his surgeon.

He’d seen that damned mask before.

The surgeon themself seemed rather young. Maybe a teen still? They were at least younger than Charlie.

“I don’t want to do this… oh god.”

It was when they started pulling the sheet back to expose Charlie’s bare stomach that he started to fully grasp the situation.

The kid turned to their left and started rummaging through a box of surgical tools.

Oh fuck.

Oh fuck.

“I’m so sorry. I need to- I need to live. You don’t understand I need to live.”

Charlie knew the game. He knew that no one won. He knew that he’d been though it before. He knew he hadn’t been the first. Clearly he hadn’t been the last, either. But this kid… maybe they could be. Maybe they could be the one to stop this cycle.

So Charlie came to a conclusion. He had to endure whatever torment that awaited him in order to give this teen a fighting chance.

A pair of rusted scissors glinted in the light.

Charlie braced.

The teen plunged the scissors into his abdomen, and Charlie screamed. The pain was immediate, a searing fire starting from his center and rippling outwards in waves upon waves of torment. Every part of him screeched in protest and agony as the scissors dug even deeper, tearing upwards through flesh and muscle and sinew. His vision blurred, the room beginning to swirl into a nightmarish, distorted haze. He was vaguely aware of the sweat that was clinging to him, starting to mix with the tears that were streaming down his face.

This needs to happen.

And it kept fucking going.

Fingers dug into his skin and began to pull, shoving aside skin and fat until Charlie had a wonderful view of his entire digestive tract. The teen’s hands dove even deeper, starting to wrap around his intestines and slowly stringing them out.

This needs to happen.

Charlie convulsed, crying out with each twist and tug. He could feel blood beginning to drip down his hands from where his fingernails were digging into his palms. His body was but a stage for this twisted performance.

This needs to happen.

His breaths were ragged, each one hurting more than the last as his heaving chest jostled his torn open stomach. Bolts of anguish radiated out from his core as the teen continued to just dig, shooting tendrils of pain through his veins and into every nerve in his body. The world was hazy and fragmented, blurring and unblurring at a rapidfire pace. The smell of antiseptic had been washed away with the scent of his own blood, metallic and nauseating.

This needs to happen. This needs to happen. This needs to happen.

Charlie shrieked and spasmed as something was ripped from him. His screams echoed against the tiled walls of the room, a desperate plea for release that only fell on deaf ears. Time itself was beginning to warp, stretching into a torturous eternity. Every fiber of his being cried out for mercy. But he knew that none would come.

“What is- what is this?”

Charlie managed to focus his eyes for a brief second on what the teen was holding. It took him a bit to actually understand what he was seeing, with his mind so fogged with pain and the object completely drenched in his own blood, but after a moment he realized:

It was a game piece, from Mousetrap. It was the missing piece of a puzzle.

Charlie would’ve sighed with relief if he could actually breathe. They got the piece. He had no idea how the fuck it got inside of him, and frankly he didn’t really want to, but they got it. They had a chance. That made it all worth it.

The kid had what they needed. But of course, they didn’t know that. So onwards they went, continuing their merciless work of ravaging through Charlie’s torso, gutting him for all the world the see. Time lost its meaning. His body was nothing but a vessel for agony. But he had to hold onto that hope. He had to hope this kid, whoever they were, would be the one to break the cycle. He just had to.

He just fucking had to.

Everybody go listen to Charlie Slimecicle's new hit single Jort Storm NOW The man is so unironically talented at making random songs

I just had this thought about Character A comforting/counselling Character B who's constantly comparing themselves to others.

Character A says "You don't always have to care about the rat race." In response, Character B says "I don't always have to care about the rats?" and promptly bursts into tears.

WHERE ARE YOU ALL COMING FROM???

STOPPPPPP /pos

i haven't written anything in like 2 weeks... where are you coming from????

genuinely so grateful that yall have enjoyed everything i've been posting so far I will attempt a 400 special with a new series I WILL TRY

m just real busy w irl stuff atm and creativity has been coming in drips so keep your expectations low

meanwhile, come talk to me! ask box is open and i will talk about anything from wilbur soot to sbi to qsmp to genloss

i love you all so much <33