#does this count as whump?

[the-starlit-authoress]

"You hesitated. You always hesitate. Why?" Hero stared down at the Villain pinned under their blade.

"You're imagining things." Villian huffed.

"You could have killed me a few minutes ago and you didn't. You clearly don't want to fight me, so why are you?"

"As if I'd tell you anything." Villian took advantage of Hero's lowered guard to get out of the hold and get away, leaving Hero with just as many questions and no answers.

~

The next time Hero saw Villain they fell to their knees a few minutes into the fight, clutching their side.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine. Stay out of it." Villain winced as they pushed themself up. "Stop standing there and fight me."

"I'm not going to fight someone who can barely stand."

"I'm fine."

"No, you're not."

"Fight me."

"No."

"You have to."

"Why?" Hero asked, desperate for a real answer this time. "Why do you insist on fighting me when you're injured? Why are you forcing yourself to attack me?"

"Because I don't have a choice!" Villain shouted, clenching their fist. Their eyes widened slightly when they realized their accidental confession. "Shit."

"What do you mean? Why don't you have a choice?"

Villain glared. "Why do you care?"

"Because I want to help you."

They laughed. It was sad and empty. "Yeah, right. You just want me to let my guard down so you can lock me up."

Hero took a careful few steps towards their enemy. They're not sure if they should be calling them that anymore. "I swear I just want to help. Please. Let me help."

"You heroes are so desperate to help everyone. Have you ever considered there are things you have no place helping with? Or do you just not care as long as you get the credit?"

"No, I-"

"Save it. You can't help me." with that Villain ran from another unfinished fight, aware of the consequences but not caring as long as it ended this conversation.

~

Villain let out a breath as they stepped into their home (If they could even call it that) but quickly tensed when they heard a voice from the doorway.

"You're back early. Again. You better tell me it's because you won this time." Supervillain did not look impressed.

"...No. They got away." Villian muttered, eyes downcast.

"You've been losing a lot lately." Supervillain stepped around behind them. "I thought yesterday's training would have helped strengthen your resolve." they placed their hands on Villian's shoulders and leaned in. "Maybe you need another round. Or perhaps it's time to start training your little brother instead."

Villian felt themself tense even more. "No. Leave him alone. I'll do it."

Supervillain smiled. "I knew I raised a smart kid."

[raccoonbug]

Static thrummed in the hedgehogs limbs, a heavy vibration under cobalt fur weighing him down like lead. Ice scorched through his veins. It was so cold, almost cold enough to burn, but he could not fall to the corruption. No. Not yet. They needed him.

He clutched to the remnants of his memories with shaking hands, yet pieces slipped through like sand. Sonic had to remember. He couldn’t forget who he was doing this for. Amy. Knuckles.

Tails.

The thought of his little brother drove a surge of determination through his core, fire temporarily beating back the ice sludge in his blood. Sonic was dying. He could feel it. Still, he’d rather let the cyber corruption rend his body limb from limb as it fought to with this world to drag him into cyber space. Rather allow the Guardians to crush him underfoot. Rather have his very soul torn from his body. Anything but letting his friends, his family, his brother down.

The End could kill him, he wouldn’t begrudge them that. But he’d tear apart the very reality they lay in, destroy the gods themselves, before he allowed anyone to harm his family.

Sonic kept walking.

[prinx-quail]

I love cursed cat Alastor so much. I feel like pathetic cat Vox would really complete my soul. He isn't here yet, but enjoy the cliffhanger for now!

NEXT

[ssecond-hand-faith]

This thing was freaking me out and the dog kept trying to eat it so I trapped it under a glass

[inksandpensblog]

Azure's Reception: a bug!Purple OC story

Purple is only in the warrior’s courtyard because he’d just managed to catch the trailing end note of his dame’s song remarking something about him getting to see Cobalt at training today. In his alarm at this unexpected turn of events, he hadn’t thought to ask why his sire would be there, only grousing over his ruined plans for the day and quietly thanking his luck that Orchid had mentioned it at all.

So he’s already frustrated and wary when he notices the newcomer standing off to the side of the courtyard.

Something is…off, about him.

It’s not that he’s a stranger. It’s not that his bristles are shorter than Purple is used to seeing, nor that they gleam with a dull, waxy shine that makes him look almost slippery. It isn’t the half-erased markings of smudged brown powder on his chest and arms that isn’t grey enough to be mud and smells too sweet to be dirt.

Purple’s antennae flick at the scent, reaching toward it despite himself. It’s not unfamiliar. His memory attaches the smell to a brown, pebble-like item that the foraging masters had introduced to their apprentices.

He tuts, irritated that he’s been prevented from shadowing them, and does his best to put the thought out of his mind.

His attention returns to the stranger. A cotton-candy-blue, brighter than one would expect in this forest, almost as if he’s been saturated in the saccharine hue. The fronds of his antennae are thin and jagged, angled from his head in mild interest.

It’s not that he’s the only mature beetlestick in the courtyard without any armor on.

Because he isn’t; even as Purple observes this, he catches sight of another unarmored beetlestick. This one looks familiar, at least, down to their ceremonial garb.

Purple’s frown shifts to one of confusion, as his attention returns to the stranger once again.

It’s not that his hands are tied. It’s not that the trailing lead is held by one of the two guards flanking him.

It’s not that Cobalt is the one holding the lead, and that he has yet to acknowledge the presence of his offspring.

Purple’s breath catches. Doubtless, his sire has noticed him already. But aside from a lightning-quick glance and the redirection of one antenna, Cobalt doesn’t address his son’s recognition.

Gradually, Purple unfreezes, trying to soothe his frayed nerves by reoccupying his mind with the mystery of the stranger. Because something still isn’t right.

Eventually, he picks up on it: it’s the complete silence.

Everyone else is lightly humming or buzzing to themselves as they go about their business and get into their positions; even Purple’s wings had been quietly droning behind him a moment ago. But this cotton-candy-blue stranger? Nothing.

It’s only then that some other trainees notice the look Purple is giving the stranger, and take it upon themselves to explain that he was handed over as tribute from another clan. Apparently, his silence is attributed to this state of affairs, as tributary custom forbids him from vocalizing during the reception.

When this clarifies nothing for Purple, the trainees roll their eyes and elaborate further: the clan had threatened to launch a war over some offense committed by a different clan, and cotton-candy had been offered as tribute in an effort to pacify the court. The exchange had already been completed, but the warriors got leave from the council to perform the reception ritual for the trainees to witness. The ceremony would magically and diplomatically subsume the tribute into their clan, where he would act as a representative of his own clan as a whole, who had given him away to bargain. Cotton-candy’s presence in the clan would also act as an incentive for his own former clan to not upset the court further.

The conversation continues, one trainee wondering whether or not cotton-candy is in fact the beetlestick who committed the offense or whether he’s a stand-in, and another remarking that this distinction doesn’t actually matter; but Purple tunes it out and stares at cotton-candy-blue, taking him in with this new context.

He looks…

…he looks kinda bored, honestly. Like the lot of them are a rabble of riffraff that he’s deigned to grace with his presence. Not at all like a criminal delivered to justice at the hands of his enemies. Not like a scapegoat handed over by those he’d considered his people. Not like a hostage whose life depends on the compliance of people who are far away and can’t reassure him.

As Purple keeps looking, two mulberry-red eyes meet his. He gets caught in their gaze, and it isn’t until he notices the one cotton-candy eyebrow raising that he realizes the tribute caught him staring. He looks away hastily.

When he glances back, the tribute’s attention is elsewhere. But there’s a lingering smirk on his face. It’s a sneering, self-satisfied thing. Purple scowls to himself.

Then attention is called, and the guards move, and the trainees cease chattering to disperse about the courtyard in formation, and Purple remembers that his sire is here, and he straightens up and gets in line and wipes his face blank.

He spends the next few minutes trying his darnedest to run through the routine he hadn’t been present for nearly enough times. He’s memorized the steps, but his sire would hone in on any poor technique in a heartbeat. Fortunately, it seems Cobalt’s attention is occupied with keeping the tribute in line.

Not that it’s taking much work. Cotton-candy just stands there, weight back on one leg, hip cocked slightly, and surveying the trainees like he’s waiting for them to do something worth his time.

Finally, everyone stills, the master of ceremony steps forward, and the rites begin.

Purple…honestly does try his best to follow along, but his attention keeps being drawn back to cotton-candy-blue, whose half-lidded look of faint amusement hasn’t left his face.

When the master of the ceremony calls the tribute forward, he obliges. There’s no other way to describe the manner with which he lifts his chin as he shifts forward to approach. He strides forward like he’s humoring them, a swagger in his movement, and all Purple can read in his posture is confidence.

The tribute is bade to kneel, and when his head bows and his knee touches the floor it’s like he’s doing them all a favor. The corner of his mouth twitches in time with one antenna as he closes his eyes, both eyebrows rising almost tauntingly, and Purple wonders if the master is blind to how they’re being indulged or if they’re aware that the tribute is merely playing along.

The master of ceremonies raises their hands over the tribute’s head, and says the final words.

“The tribute hereby relinquishes his ties to his clan, until such a time as the court considers the debts of his clan repaid. We hold him and his clan to their promise. We accept this tribute, on behalf of our enemies, and welcome him as one of our own.”

The master of ceremonies raises their voice, spreading their hands wide.

“Welcome, Azure.”

There’s a slight delay, and then— cotton-candy shoulders go rigid. A head darts up, antennae curling tightly, mulberry eyes flashing with something Purple can’t identify.

And that’s it. The ceremony is over.

Except…Purple is still looking at the tribute. At Azure. Whose elytra had lifted, a movement so natural that Purple almost hadn’t noticed it until it stopped, and he remembered in the same moment as Azure that no permission had been given for him to speak.

And then everyone is talking, and moving, and the trainees have somewhere to go, and the warriors have somewhere else to go, and Azure is being beckoned to his feet by the guards.

“If you have any questions, ask them now.” That’s his sire’s voice. Purple turns to see him untying Azure’s bonds.

“That’s not my—”

“Questions,” Cobalt emphasizes, turning away slightly to toss the coiled rope aside, his eyes moving from Azure’s newly-bared wrists to his piercing glare.

Azure’s nostrils flare, irate, face tilting downward and stance widening as his antennae lay flat down his head.

“My name is—”

His wings are still moving, but their song goes quiet suddenly.

Something like uncertainty steals across Azure’s face for the first time in the brief moments Purple has known of him. Mulberry eyes blink once, then rapidly, then dart over the ground as the tribute shakes his head and shifts unsteadily, teeth bared in agitation.

“…is Azure,” Cobalt finishes, something final in his song. “Come now, your quarters have been prepared.”

Purple can’t stay to witness any more. The crowd of trainees is herding him away.

But as he turns to catch one final glimpse of Azure, it’s to see a wary tension that had been absent for the entire ceremony finally appear in the tribute’s frame.

[bionicle-ramblings]

So, picking up where my last post dropped off, imagine the two teams trying to plan what to do, but barely able to because Vakama ends up passing out to the point waking him up is very hard, Nokama can't talk, Nuju has no clue what anyone is saying, Whenua can't see, Matua has to fight to stay conscious, and Onewa is so "not there," he's letting Vakama rest on him and occasionally pats him on the head and keeps staring at Takanuva because he's pretty and shiny

Most of their survival boils down to constantly moving and going where there's no exo-Toa or Rakshi, easier said than done, but they manage. Many of the team members are separated from the group, namely Nuparu, Hahli, Kongu, Nuju, Nokama, and Onewa. The remaining teammates, Vakama, Jaller, Hewkii, Whenua, Matau, and Takanuva, have to trek on and hope their fellow Toa are doing the same, though tensions are high, especially between Jaller, Vakama, and Takanuva. Jaller is deeply upset and angered at Vakama because he thinks none of them would be where they are now had Vakama just told them what was happening. Vakama admits he should have told them, but also wouldn't have allowed Jaller to go as far as go to the realm of Karzahni, or allowed him to take his team with him

Matau and Takanuva break up the fight, but Jaller also snaps at Takanuva, shouting at him because while everyone was fighting and losing allies, he just wandered off again, leaving everyone alone to fight.

In a moment that shocks everyone, Takanuva quickly and stoicly slaps Jaller, snapping him out of his anger for a moment and quieting him so Takanuva can explain that they can't afford to fight each other, not when Teridax wants them to do just that, to be divided so it's easier to pick them off

Takanuva also gets to explaining where he's been and what happened, but on the condition that Jaller keep his mouth shut or Takanuva will leave them when they're not looking and he'll carry Vakama with him

While that's happening, Hahli, Nurapu, Kongu, Nokama, Nuju, and Onewa are sneaking as quietly as possible, Nokama trying to communicate to ask Hahli how she's taking what she just learned. Hahli admits she isn't sure how to feel, not with learning she was actually Nokama's student or with the knowledge that her old home has now turned into a prison. Nokama can understand that, but the two are distracted when they see Nuju dragged Onewa toward the group, frustrated and lashing out by punching a wall; he has no idea what anyone is saying and he's practically forgotten how to speak Matoran, so he feels stuck. Nokama tries to comfort him, because she can't talk, but what gets the two to really break down is seeing Kongu and Nuparu lead Onewa back to the group, because he keeps trying to wander away from them

The team, overwhelmed, scared, and feeling too many things at once, take a moment to cry, to be together in their pain. After a moment, they gather themselves and keep moving, Hahli and Kongu leading the group to Ko-Metru with Nuju's help, though it's tough for him to do it because he has to point to stuff and remeber chute and passage ways

While they're doing that, Takanuva has finished explaining how he traveled dimensions and has heard that Tuyet is around somewhere, so they need to jeep an eye out for her. Jaller has nothing to really say because what his friend's been up to is bigger than just wandering, especially when he realizes that Takanuva has seen things that rival being trapped in the Great Spirit robot

No time to really get into it because the team has to run and scramble to avoid getting swallowed by the ground and taken somewhere else, going as far as to try parkouring their way across the ceiling, thoguh they have some hiccups because of the state Vakama, Whenua, and Matau are in

Despite some close calls and then being cornered by exo-Toa, they are able to tell when the Great Spirit Robot dies, evidenced to Hahli's team when Onewa lays flat on the ground and by seeing the exo-Toa drop to the ground, both teams facing no threats as they leave

The teams, shaken and stirred, leave the robot and find their way out, and find other Toa and Matoran leaving the Great Spirit robot as well. The reunion between them is an emotional one, the Toa Mahri and Metru being emotional as they realize they escaped with their loves and they're out

Again, this is muscle pulling reach, but this has been on my head and I need to get it out. Expect one more post about this "story line," and then we're back to other stuff

[grandselfmythologizing]

GUIDING STAR— a UT Yellow fanfiction.⋆₊˚⊹♡

Fractured Dawn, Heaven-Bound; Part Two of Indeterminate . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ In the dim light of a dilapidated, poorly-maintained clinic, the frail traveler wakes from fevered dreams to find themselves under the care of the eccentric sheriff, North Star. Amidst the pain and weakness, a fragile bond forms, offering a glimmer of hope and the promise of healing in the heart of the Wild East.

Trigger Warnings: Moments suggesting disability and/or chronic illness(es) although never explicitly stated, and body dysmorphia due to aforementioned hints. Please heed said warnings and stay safe.

The world was a haze of ache and fevered dreams. The child stirred from the depths of their unconsciousness, their body heavy and unresponsive, as though anchored to the bed by an impossible, insurmountable weight. The clinic, identified as such by a swift observation, around them was a far cry from any sanctuary of healing— its walls were cracked and peeling, the air thick with the scent of apparent neglect. The thin cot they lay upon wes draped in unwashed sheets, stiff and stained, adding to the pervasive sense of discomfort that clung to their every breath.

Their mind, still clouded by the fever's grip, struggled to piece together the unraveled fragments of their journey. They remembered the bleak corridors of the Underground, the harsh landscape that seemed determined to break their spirit, and finally, the vibrant chaos of the Wild East. And then, the sheriff— the eccentric, almost comical, caricature of a Western dream— catching them as they fell and subsequently faintined, his presence a strange amalgamation of absurdity and comfort.

Now, in the dim light of the clinic, the child felt the full weight of the ordeal settle into their weary bones, oppressed with fatigue and weakness. The adrenaline that had driven them forward was gone, replaced by a creeping pain that gnawed at their edges. Every movement was an exertion, every breath a struggle. They felt as fragile as glass, teetering on the brink of shattering.

A deep sense of abhorrence welled up within them, a loathing for the weakness that held them captive. They had always prided themselves on their resilience, their ability to push through adversity. Yet now, their body betrayed them, refusing to obey their will. They tried to sit up, to fight against the tide of their own frailty, but the effort was too much. The world tilted, their surroundings doubled in their vision hazed in weakness, and they sank back into the bed, defeated.

Fuck.

It was then that the door creaked open, and the familiar figure of the sheriff stepped into the room. Although less glorious removed from the traveler’s delirious stupor, his presence encompassed the entirety of the space, larger than life, his usual theatrical bravado tempered by a genuine concern that flickered in his eyes.

"Well, howdy there, partner," he greeted, his jubilant intonation yielding a warm, rumbling affection. "Glad to see you're awake."

Despite their near mental unravel the mere moment prior, the child managed a faint, weary smile, though it felt more like a grimace. The figure approached the bed, his movements surprisingly gentle for someone so flamboyant. He pulled up a rickety stool and sat down, and the traveler, nevertheless how delirious and exhausted, mentally remarked on how his eyes never once left their face.

Admittedly, it made him look kind of a dork— his back hunched, his limbs drawing the chair to his backside, and subsequently jolting forward nearer, and his attention undivided in almost discreet, meticulous observation of the traveler’s expression. How endearing.

"You gave us quite a scare back there," he said, his tone a mix of humor and earnestness. "Just collapsed right into me. Talk about a first meeting, huh?"

Succeeding an embarrassed flush, the child’s lips part agape a weak chuckle, which quickly escalated into a vehement cough. The cowboy’s expression softened further, a rare glimpse of the man beneath the sheriff's persona.

"Hey, listen, kiddo," he continued, "you're in pretty rough shape, yeah? We got a clinic here, but as you can see, it ain't exactly top-notch. We're doin' the best we can with what we got. But you need to rest, let yourself heal."

Huh, “kiddo”…

That was nice.

The child nodded meekly, the effort of even that minuscule, nearly indiscernible movement rendering them breathless. North Star extended a hand in reach for them, his hand resting lightly on their shoulder— swiftly obscuring a grimace upon the sharpness of bones prominent against the child’s flesh upon touch.

"I'm North Star," he introduced himself, a strained, although reassuring smile playing on his lips— and a sudden, boastful air of pride. "Sheriff of these parts, for better or worse. And you, my friend, are under my care now. So you just focus on gettin' better, and we'll take it one step at a time."

Inexplicably coaxed by the tenderness thus offered, the child's eyes fluttered closed, a sense of weary relief washing over them. It was almost against their will, instinctive— to fall so vulnerable, to the extent of unconsciousness.

For the first time since their fall into the Underground, the hope they so desperately clung to was eased and satiated. In this dilapidated clinic, under the watchful eye of a most unconventional sheriff, they had unwittingly secured themself a sanctuary, however eccentric.

And as North Star sat beside them, humming a soft tune that echoed with the warmth of a bygone era, the child drifted back into a fitful sleep. The pain and fever still clung to them, but there was a promise now, a fragile bond that whispered of healing and the strength to endure.

“When you get better, I’ll take you out for Ice Cream, yeah?”

p.s/mod’s note: rip starlo u would have 💘ed Backburner … guess i won’t ever minddd crisping up on ur backkkk burnerrrrr (distant echoes of “back burnerrr” over and over again)

also hi an update ?? to this fic ?? um …i kinda projected for a moment erm oops !! just needed a little bit of comfort ermmm damn !! IDK bro but part one here !!:

reader will get a little better maybe in the next chapter ?? and possibly meet the posse !! and Ceroba !! also here’s ur tag lemme know if u want me to stop with it LMAO @schnozzlebozzle

[emiliasilverova]

Chibi Dump 14: Alec Through The Ages

(Censored version for those who can't handle blood; uncensored version under the cut)

I was considering to draw some crack involving Alec before, during and after his (mandatory) morning coffee... then I told @3nigm4art. Their counterproposal? Drawing a full rundown of Alec's life instead. Welp, challenge accepted 😈

As you might have noticed, a few headcanons here. "Shura" is a diminutive of Aleksandr; Alexander's uniform is from the Duke of York's military school; Major Trevelyan is a Royal Marine (because 006 in the Fleming books is one) who's been in Rhodesia and the Falklands among other places; and Alec clearly survived the events of GE...

Ngl, I am particularly proud of how "Redacted" looks. Huge thanks to 3nigm4 for the help with blood, tattered clothes and messy hair on him specifically.

Janus was by far the easiest and most fun to draw. Is it a surprise coming from me, I don't think so.

Oh and I'll confess, I might have stolen little Shura's haircut from this art by @mozulela. I mean, I couldn't come up with something more perfect than that...

[itsmetheabnormalone]

Watching Top Gun 1/2 and MI 6 recently made me realize how the action scenes in Tom’s movies are refreshingly…natural? It’s shaky and uncomfortable and sometimes slow (in fights), you can almost feel the broken ribs. Maverick made me hold my breath, the scene of the helicopter crash in MI 6 made me go 🫣😬😵😳. Usually fight/crash scenes are so sanitized you barely get a sense of danger or human exhaustion? I can only suspend my disbelief so much lol give me protagonists going "oH cOme oOn“ with that tired™ expression when they see the second wave crushing towards them bc *I* as a viewer definitely think that when I watch the scene.

And Tom Cruise is like "yeah fuck that sanitized bs lets do the exact opposite“ and then jumps from a building himself.

[ihonestlycanttellyou]

I just realized something about how I write the DOLverse.

Under cut because I doubt many want to read a small fuckton about a couple DOL OCs lol. Ramble incoming:

So first and foremost, I write all my PCs as existing at the same time in one "save" and that leads to this revelation.

Mari's life fuckin' sucks in the friend group because they're practically surrounded by their abusers, AKA their friends' partners/conquests.

Onyx isn't romantically involved with Leighton but is still HEAVILY INVOLVED with him, I mean, they already can't avoid the bastard at school but now they constantly have to hear about how Onyx dominated and absolutely babygirled that man because there's no way in Hell the incubus wouldn't brag about it. This coupled with the photoshoots and detentions is definitely not good for that poor fox's mental state. Yikes.

Katrina is Avery's new sugarbabe after Mari "dismissed" him AKA Avery just fucks off and finds some other trophy (y'all already know how I feel about that event), so Mari just sees Katrina get into that expensive car every morning and just panics. Katrina seems fine so Avery's probably treating her much better than he treated them but still, seeing their friend sneaking out in formal wear every Saturday does still make them feel ill.

Oh ho ho, but I saved the definite worst for last.

I accidentally created a goldmine of angst and probably the greatest potential fallout between OCs ever in my years of character creation.

Jackson and motherfuckin' Whitney, the bully who not only torments Mari at every turn but also MADE THEM FALL. The worst thing to ever happen to Mari was having their purity ripped from them and subsequently falling because of it. Jackson knows Whit is a total weasel bastard pos of a person, it'd be hard not to know, but MAN. The fact that Whitney can just, like, hang out the orphanage and the alleyways next to them is probably nightmare-inducing to poor Mari. They probably rush past the park on rainy days because seeing one of their friend cuddled up with that monster would be hard to stomach.

[arumbleinthedark]

Wumpee who is terrified of flying in an airplane, but they and their friends have to get on this plane to get to where they're going, there's no other way, and there's no way out of going either.

[ginger375]

LUtober

See the full collection on AO3.

Day 19: Spiral

CW: Dark thoughts, depression. Read at your own risk.

Sky’s legs were aching.

They’d been walking for hours, trying to get to the castle in Hyrule’s era as quickly as they could. There were few places that were safe to stop where they’d been dropped, so they pressed on in hopes of getting past the danger as soon as possible.

Sky hated situations like this.

He’d started falling back some time ago, drifting to the back of the pack as the day went on. He could argue that he was watching their backs, literally, but he knew they knew the real reason.

You’re too damn slow

It was hard to keep up with all these long-distance walkers; if he needed to traverse a great distance, he’d had his loftwing or Skipper’s ship or–

You’re holding everyone back

Sky took a deep breath and forced himself to move his legs a bit faster. He managed to close the distance somewhat between himself and Four and Legend.

“You alright back there, Sky?” the latter called out over his shoulder.

Sky scowled. Thanks for drawing attention to it, Vet. “I’m fine.”

“Whatever you say, birdbrain,” Legend laughed until Four drove an elbow into his side.

You deserve to be mocked

Sky felt the heat creep up his face. He looked down at his feet as he continued pushing himself forward, the pain starting in his feet, shooting up through his knees and into his hips.

He didn’t feel the passage of time through the pain, so he didn’t notice until he nearly bowled over Four that the group had stopped.

“What…?” SKy looked around to see they’d actually found a relatively sheltered area.

“Hyrule says we’re close enough to the castle that we should be okay to stop here for the night,” Four said.

Oh.

Sky wanted to let out a huge sigh of relief, but kept it to himself. He didn’t want to draw attention to the fact that he was utterly exhausted.

You’re weak

He fumbled through his assigned task to get camp set up and then gratefully collapsed against a withered and snarly looking tree. The rest of the group were removing extra layers or checking weapons because that’s what you did when you were an adventurer that spent long days on the road and long nights in the woods.

You cursed them all

They gradually began to gather around the campfire and Sky wanted to join them, to feel the camaraderie of his brothers and reassure himself that they were, in fact, his brothers.

They all hate you

But how could he when he was just too slow and too weak and useless and it’s his fault his fault HIS FAULT–

You should just–

“Hey.”

Huh?

Sky looked up to see Wild, holding a bowl in each hand. Dinner time already? He took the bowl the champion handed him, the familiar scent of his favourite food wafting to his nose.

“I thought you were out of pumpkins?” he asked as Wild sat next to him.

“I am, but I’ve had this stashed in case of… well, you seemed like you needed it today,” Wild absently rubbed the back of his neck.

Sky just looked at him. He needed his favourite soup because he was slow? Because he was weak? Because it was his fault they were cursed to this life?

“I know what it’s like, when those dark thoughts just won’t go away and just get worse and…” Wild trailed off.

Oh.

“I just wanted to let you know that you’re not alone, is all.”

He cared. Wild saved him some pumpkin soup because he cared about Sky and wanted to make sure he was okay.

Sky felt his eyes start to sting and gave his companion a watery smile. “Thank you, Wild.”

Wild rested his head against Sky’s shoulder, leaning on him and sharing his warmth.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he whispered.

Sky took a sip of the soup, the familiar flavour dancing across his tongue and warming him in more ways than one.

“Me too.”

[pagingdoctorbedlam]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 明日方舟 | Arknights (Video Game) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Czerny/Ebenholz Characters: Czerny (Arknights), Ebenholz (Arknights) Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Chronic Illness, Chronic Pain, Sickfic, Established Relationship Summary:

"Is it selfish of him to keep Ebenholz for himself like this, when he's so sick? He fought and lucked his way back into better health once, but he can't keep making those bets. The bad days will begin to outweigh the good again in time, and what then?" --- Czerny has his first bad pain day in a long while. Ebenholz does his best to help.

[one-joe-spoopy]

I had a phase for a while (honestly is it really a phase if I never stopped?) where I'd put the characters I made in car accidents because they were running away from their found family because they're actually the one behind the missing family member that they swear I've never seen them and I hope they're okay and you'll find them soon and all the while the missing person is actually hidden away unconscious somewhere in plain sight and they're enjoying all this running around and wild goose chases and goddamn I loved it so much. Also trapping people in freezing units and the person escaping by trapping someone else in their place and them just wandering about in the winter chill injured to hell and back (keep in mind that this is the same person). Also the missing person is sort of the black sheep, the one who argues and goes missing, the one who everyone's worried about. And also they kept gnawing away at the skin of their arms because they're always so cold, so cold they can't think much.

[theramblingvoid]

Low level/continuous pain tips for writing

Want to avoid the action movie effect and make your character's injuries have realistic lasting impacts? Have a sick character you're using as hurt/comfort fodder? Everyone has tips for how to write Dramatic Intense Agony, but the smaller human details of lasting or low-level discomfort are rarely written in. Here are a few pain mannerisms I like to use as reference:

General

Continuously gritted teeth (may cause headaches or additional jaw pain over time)

Irritability, increased sensitivity to lights, sounds, etc

Repetitive movements (fidgeting, unable to sit still, slight rocking or other habitual movement to self-soothe)

Soft groaning or whimpering, when pain increases or when others aren't around

Heavier breathing, panting, may be deeper or shallower than normal

Moving less quickly, resistant to unnecessary movement

Itching in the case of healing wounds

Subconsciously hunching around the pain (eg. slumped shoulders or bad posture for gut pain)

Using a hand to steady themself when walking past walls, counters, etc (also applies to illness)

Narration-wise: may not notice the pain was there until it's gone because they got so used to it, or may not realize how bad it was until it gets better

May stop mentioning it outright to other people unless they specifically ask or the pain increases

Limb pain

Subtly leaning on surfaces whenever possible to take weight off foot/leg pain

Rubbing sore spots while thinking or resting

Wincing and switching to using other limb frequently (new/forgettable pain) or developed habit of using non dominant limb for tasks (constant/long term pain)

Propping leg up when sitting to reduce inflammation

Holding arm closer to body/moving it less

Moving differently to avoid bending joints (eg. bending at the waist instead of the knees to pick something up)

Nausea/fever/non-pain discomfort

Many of the same things as above (groaning, leaning, differences in movement)

May avoid sudden movements or turning head for nausea

Urge to press up against cold surfaces for fever

Glazed eyes, fixed stare, may take longer to process words or get their attention

Shivering, shaking, loss of fine motor control

If you have any more details that you personally use to bring characters to life in these situations, I'd love to hear them! I'm always looking for ways to make my guys suffer more write people with more realism :)

[mackerel08]

can you draw dirk strider eating a ice cream sandwich?! :O3

do not eat shitty sbahj ice cream sandwiches