#physical injury tw

[fletcherwilbury]

@whumptober Day 1: "How many fingers am I holding up?"

Warning for Past coma, physical injury, favoritism, misgendering, physical abuse, verbal abuse, past traumatic event, implied past parentification

[mothazeri]

STATS.

name: timothée ❝ moth ❞ montazeri gender & pronouns: non-binary / he + they orientation: panromantic grey-asexual age: thirty-four date of birth: 13 june, 1988 zodiac: ☼ gemini ☽ capricorn ↑ aries occupation: remote session musician + producer positive traits: creative, passionate, diligent, observant negative traits: blunt, aloof, taciturn, detached, critical

BIO.

( TW! drunk driving, car accident, death, mental illness, physical injury )

Born in 1988 in Toulouse, France to Yadid and Bahisa Montazeri, Moth spent the majority of his childhood and adolescence bouncing back and forth between his parents’ home on Freret in New Orleans and jetting around the globe with his family while they chased the knowledge and thrill of wanderlust. He was homeschooled from a young age to allow the trio to explore all of the best sights and most immersive cultural experiences that Europe, Asia, and Africa had to offer. It wasn’t a difficult feat for the Montazeris either; though it took several years before Moth actually spoke, it was clear from a very young age that he was remarkably intelligent and absorbed information like a sponge soaking up water. If there was anything his parents couldn’t teach him, it didn’t take very long for Moth to figure it out himself, especially once he could read. The motivation to pursue knowledge was always there, only encouraged by his parents.

Moth was diagnosed with autism spectrum disorder (ASD) and savant syndrome by the age of four, when they still weren’t verbal but demonstrated perfect pitch and a knack for learning every instrument they could get their tiny hands on. Music was not only a special interest but a passion, and one that they had an incredible gift for. Wanting to foster and inspire that gift to grow, Yadid and Bahisa made sure their child was exposed to as much musical enrichment from different cultures as they could when he was still young and impressionable. By the time he was ten, Moth could play fourteen different instruments and spent most of their free time honing their skills and writing their own music. It was rare to spot him without his headphones, noise-cancelling and often flooded with a wide assortment of genres and songs whose origins littered the globe.

At 17 and having already received a diploma, Moth opted out of university, choosing to continue traveling and exploring with their parents so they could focus on their music. They had a number of friends in major cities scattered across several countries, and during a visit to a close friend in London that involved several drinks and substances  after an underground show in a stranger’s basement —  none of which Moth personally imbibed in  — they were in a severe car crash. He doesn’t talk about the incident much at all, seldom even with his closest friends;  his friend who’d been behind the wheel at the time of the collision didn’t make it to the hospital but Moth was rushed away in an ambulance to be treated for several injuries. Among them, irreversibly damaged cochlea from the impact of the airbags that would lead to moderately severe hearing loss. Several doctors’ visits and operations later, he still has very limited hearing, and often has to rely on his cochlear implants to get by from day to day when interacting with anyone outside of his core group of friends. He also has a service dog, a cockapoo named Moon after after Keith Moon of The Who, who hasn’t left his side since the day they were introduced.

After taking some time after the accident to recoup at their home in New Orleans, Moth’s parents informed him of their desire to return to Toulouse full-time and extended the offer for Moth to join them. The young musician, struggling to find their footing again after such a profound loss, asked to remain in Louisiana, believing that being on their own might force them to evolve and encourage them to keep pursuing music. They threw themselves into composing and producing, songwriting and playing; they bounced between more shitty, unfulfilling bands than they could count, performing many nights at the bar below his apartment. It was there that Moth met the two people who would ultimately change the course of their life entirely: River Patel and Fenix Lennox. The pair had approached Moth after a set one night and they all got to talking about music, quickly bonding and turning into the first fast friends Moth could claim to have made.

Only a year after meeting them, Moth agreed to move to Seattle with River and Fox to pursue their music, itching for a change after so many years of stillness, and uprooted his entire life without a second thought. When Seattle became a bad time for all involved and they decided on a split from the city in search of a new home, coming along again wasn’t even a question. ( And it’s a good thing  — they didn’t even have to ask Moth, sure by that point that they were enough of a trio that a new location wouldn’t break them up. ) In between band practices and shows, Moth started to take jobs as a remote session musician, recording instruments and layering tracks for other artists. Their ability to learn and master instruments meant they were invaluable in their field, and they quickly found themselves able to support a life without the aid of their parents. ( Of course, he wouldn’t refuse when they offered to outfit him with enough equipment to get started, but that was all Moth needed. ) They’ve only just recently started dabbling in producing and mixing their own beats in Bradford Springs, but just as quickly found that they love the creative freedom that comes with it.

HEADCANONS.

moth is fluent in english, urdu, hindi, french, spanish, italian, mandarin, and asl

they can play sixteen instruments: piano, violin, cello, guitar, bass guitar, drums, trumpet, saxophone, clarinet, flute, bagpipes, theremin, harmonica, kalimba, accordion, and steelpan

moth lives in alone in a one-bedroom apartment downtown and he’s converted the entire living room into a small music studio where he works; it’s rare that he’ll ever invite anybody over, but his bandmates both have keys and can come and go as they please

in their spare time, moth volunteers at the local community center, teaching music lessons to children with learning disabilities and at-risk youth; they teach classes two days a week, and even have a few kids they tutor one-on-one

when he gets too overstimulated and shuts down, moth goes non-verbal and removes the processors for his cochlear implants so he doesn’t have to hear; sometimes he can be coaxed into signing by his close friends, but more often than not, he’ll simply remove himself from the situation he’s in and go decompress alone; it’s why he’s always lived close to his bandmates, but never with them

moth loves music and has a fondness for all of their instruments, but there’s nothing they love more than their drum kit; they love that they can feel the music, and it’s almost like a full-body stim when they’re playing; they’re always mindful to wear ear plugs when they play to preserve what little hearing they have ( it’s still waning all the same ) but they’re never happier than when they’re banging away on their drums

they definitely own a tattoo gun, and they’ve let close friends and strangers alike doodle on them because they like to collect memories like snapshots in that way; some of them look awful and others are downright vulgar, but moth doesn’t regret any of them

moth is also a lyricist and used to work on solo rap projects outside of the band; while he never pursued any of them, there were a few years in seattle where he fell into the battle rap scene, and if you dig hard enough, you can find videos evidence of it on youtube

WANTED CONNECTIONS.

unlikely friends. moth isn’t the best at making friends, but they do love people, and they’re good at listening to them talk, especially if they’ve got an interesting story. because of this, i imagine they’ve made a few friends simply from entertaining a random conversation and finding a new and interesting stranger to spend time with. could literally be anybody.

fellow musicians. he might already be in a band, but moth has a passion for music and they love sharing that passion and coming up with new and unexpected sounds by collaborating with other artists. no genre or style is off-limits, and he’d love some folks in bradford springs to just try out new shit with. if the vibes are good enough, they might even get an invite to the studio so they can record together.

accidental enemies. moth has almost no filter and a very loose grasp on social cues, and sometimes his blunt way of speaking and unexpected ( and unsolicited ) observations can come off as rude, almost combative, even, in the right setting. he’s offended many people without even realizing it, often unintentionally but leading to the same end result all the same: some people really just don’t like him. maybe you’re one of them.

the guardian. ( eating disorder tw ? idk kind of so just to be safe ) look, moth is fully grown and, technically speaking, able to take care of themselves. that said, they’re not always good at it. they tend to get sucked into projects and work through the night without even realizing it, go a day or more without eating because their body doesn’t always register when it’s hungry and when they’re busy they forget. this is someone who might’ve noticed and maybe checks in every now and then to see if they’ve had a glass of water or gone for a walk in the past 24 hours, asks if they want to grab lunch just to see if they’ve eaten. moth may or may not notice they’re doing this for them, but they definitely appreciate it.

the oblivious flirtationship. blame it on the autism or the social ineptitude that stems from a lack of awareness for social cues, but moth can’t tell when someone is flirting for shit. for all that they like learning about people, they’re shit at reading them. maybe this is someone they have a back and forth with that they think is just friendly banter but it’s hinting toward something more, or maybe it’s someone they’ve literally gone out with without realizing it was a date. moth doesn’t know.

dog park friends. sometimes moth feels bad about the fact that his service dog, moon, is always on the clock for him, so he’ll often take her on walks through the dog park so she can at least experience new sights and smells, even if she can’t socialize with the other dogs. and although moon isn’t up for head scratches and belly rubs ( she’s a working girl ) that doesn’t stop moth from asking to pet every friendly dog he comes across. if you’ve got a dog, they’ve probably asked you too.

exes. whether this ended on good terms or bad terms is entirely up to you. moth isn’t the easiest person to be in a relationship with, but that doesn’t mean they haven’t given it a shot anyway when they’ve found someone they really connected to. maybe it ended because moth is emotionally unavailable and honestly a bit flaky at times, or maybe it was because he paid too much attention to his music and not enough to the relationship, or maybe there were intimacy obstacles they couldn’t overcome. who knows. the sky’s the limit, i just think that a failed relationship could be fun to explore. open to m/f/nb.

idk fam. literally anything. hit me with whatever. it’s 3 am and i feel like these connections keep getting weirder but i cannot stress enough that i am up for literally whatever.

[onegoodpixie]

aren't i such a pretty bruised puppy?

[cubbihue]

Hey, I love how you do with Fairy Timmy AU!

My apologies if this question already answered, I might have missed or something, I’m not sure if you already have those in this AU.

I have a question stuck on my mind for awhile…

What happened to Timmy’s parents? Were they bad parents towards Timmy?

(I mean I probably figured it out but I’m not sure if I’m correct so what’s why I’m asking)

Were their memories of Timmy/having a son being erased from them?

What happened to Timmy’s best friends, A.J. and Chester? Were their memories of Timmy being erased too?

Does Vicky and Crocker’s being erased as well too?

Trootie?

What about those who know Timmy?

I’m sure everyone’s of Timmy have been erased, that’s what I guess/I think.

You can't erase everybody's memories of Timmy, sillllly! Adults have too high a resistance against magic for that to work!! Only Jorgen has the power to make adults forget full memories, and even then, it's very limited.

It takes a great deal of magic to do any of the sort.

Timmy had Vicky for nearly the rest of his childhood! Although one day Vicky's family up and moved overnight, suddenly. How annoying! It brought nothing but more burdens for his parents.

Bitties Series: [Start] > [Previous] > [Next]

[theminecraftbee]

you know the excellent quadruple life fan comic has me thinking about double life again. and MAN. thinking about the soul bonds mechanically. like, before I get into my meta-analysis it’s worth noting that non-diagetically the soulbond mechanic being based on how many hearts someone has is basically the only way I can think to do it in minecraft that’s sensible, but diagetically…

so do you ever think about how the marker of what made people soulmates in double life was pain?

like, soulmates share injuries/pain! that’s the whole premise! like, to the point that day one people were making up elaborate ways to hurt themselves so they could test for their soulmates! you met your (very romantic-coded) partner and confirmed they were the person you were looking for by hitting each other, generally!

being a soulmate in the double life universe isn’t about being compatible, it’s about literally sharing pain, and it’s just… I think about how for some pairs, they share the burden between each other, and it brings them closer. for some pairs, though, the only way they know how to communicate is by hurting one another. and the thing is, this isn’t just a literal thing. like, mechanically, the thing soulmates do is share pain and communicate with pain, but metaphorically, can you say desert duo doesn’t have trouble communicating because half of how they know how to exist is either sharing in pain or causing it for each other? can you say that ranchers’ strength wasn’t a pair of people who understood each other’s pain and desperation to be better than they’ve been before? can you say that divorce quartet isn’t, well—

so pearl wins after scott hurts them one last time don’t you ever think about that,

[spinzolliii]

A whumpee prematurely returning to their duties and attending a meeting/class/training session/whatever. They’re clearly falling apart in silence, and they quietly excuse themselves halfway through. One of their friends finds them bleeding/vomiting/unconscious in the bathroom much later.

[radio-writes]

It's about time for your blood to spill + you should sleep + we were soulmates

(Congrats on the 300 followers btw!)

Now, The Echoes Interlace

300 Followers Event

Warnings: Blood, physical injuries to reader, ambiguous major character death(s), angst

Tags: Alastor x reader, gn reader, relationship can be read in any way

MDNI

"You always have looked so pretty in red, Al." You hummed as your combed your fingers through his soft hair. You pressed your fingers against his scalp, lightly massaging against his antlers.

The light static that varied in volume crackled. "Fuck you." Alastor managed to say as his head laid on your lap.

His smile was strained—present, of course, as it always was, but strained. The trail of blood from his mouth dripped from his chin, joining the warm pool under both your bodies.

"Rude." You scolded him. Your breath coming out in a hiss as Alastor dug his claws into an open wound on your leg. 

"Must you continue to hurt me? You're already dying." You glared down at him as you would at a misbehaving pet.

You leaned forward, easily removing his hand from your body without much of a struggle. He only had so much strength left after all. 

"Fuck you." Alastor repeated, static morphing his voice this time around.

"Yes, well, I get that you're mad, Al." You continued your casual tone. "But it was about time for your blood to spill, don't you think?"

You grunted as you leaned your back against the cold wall again, sighing as the tension on the wound across your stomach was lessened.

"F—"

"Fuck me, yes yes." You cut him off. "Save your strength or you'll die out faster."

Alastor didn't mean to listen to you, but he just felt far too tired to argue otherwise.

Your hand returned to his head, damp with sweat and blood, and yet somehow still so adorably fluffy. Leave it to this guy to still look so presentable even when dying a second time around.

Your fingers scratched at one of his tufts of hair, causing it to give a slight, involuntary twitch.

"So they are ears." Your voice was soft. "I always assumed but was never really sure, you know?"

Alastor didn't respond. His red eyes continued to glare at you.

He adjusted his hands to lay over his chest. A weak attempt to slow his loss of blood. He didn't even have enough energy to press on it anymore.

"Hey, Al." You wheezed, breath slightly knocked from you. You had adjusted the way you sat so the demon could lay more comfortably on your lap. "Do you remember how we first met?"

"You told me that cheesy pick up line. How'd it go again?" Your hand paused as you tried to remember. 

A rather dashing demon slid up to you at the bar; charming, sharp smile, on full display. You've seen all sorts of sinners by now, but none so happy while rotting in hell.

You expected him to sell you drugs, or quite bluntly tell you to sleep with him. What you got instead was a very corny: 

"You must be buried treasure, because I am absolutely digging you." You let out a tired laugh, hand continuing to pet Alastor once more.

The sound of static crackling again was the only response you got. You think it meant fuck you. 

"Well you must be treasure as well, Al. Because it seems I'll be burying you tonight." You met Alastor's harsh glare with a soft smile.

"What? That absolutely was funny, you can't deny it." You defended yourself.

Alastor didn't think him dying was funny at all, actually, but he didn't exactly have any energy left to say that.

His smile was a tight, close lipped one, but you see his lips try to curl just a tiny bit in what you assumed would have been a snarl. 

"You always thought I was hilarious." Your own hand moving over the gash on your neck as if it was a mild inconvenience. You titled your head as you looked down at the demon on your lap. "What changed?"

Alastor merely glared at you.

Your eyes traveled down his body, staying on the deep wound oozing across his chest.

"That's not fair, Al." You laughed tiredly, eyes staying on his bloodied torso. "I always thought you were incredibly handsome—sinfully so really. But your attempts at killing me never changed that."

"Fuck you." The static over his voice was gone now. His tone was as spiteful, angry, and condescending as always, but much, much weaker.

Your eyes drifted back to his face. His smile was still present, but his lovely red eyes seemed more unfocused than they were a second ago.

Your hand in his hair stopped their movements. For a moment, the world was still as you wondered if your company had already left.

But it was merely for a heart beat, as a ragged breath from his lips snapped time back into motion.

You pealed your fingers from his hair, bringing them down to softly rub your knuckles down his cheek. He doesn't so much as flinch, but, you knew he would have had he been able to.

"Hey, old pal." You cooed softly. "You should sleep, you look so very tired."

His fingers on his chest twitched once, but you didn't get much of a reply anymore after that.

You sighed heavily. Your hands rested on his face as you leaned your head against the wall behind you, face craned upwards to the red sky that covered all of Hell.

Your own eyes closed, realizing just how tired and weary you yourself were.

Still, you were never one to be silent around a friend—or foe. It had always been unclear to you when it came to Alastor.

"We were soulmates, wouldn't you say so, Al?" You continued softly. "But in a funnier way, I think, where we were always meant to destroy the other."

Alastor's skin felt as it always did beneath your fingers. The stench of blood heavy as it always was around him. You felt his familiar eerie presence by you, as you always did.

And yet, you were unsure if he actually was still there. You were quite conflicted about how you were supposed to feel about that, truth be told.

"Fuck you, old friend." You sighed, eyes remaining closed, smile tiredly stretching across your own lips.

[sopuu]

what do you think lukas would do if he found jesse really injured

(and vice-versa)

hoo boy you shouldn’t have sent this ask /j /lh

(doing vice-versa bc there’s not enough of it)

the sky was dark that night

[serickswrites]

Hello writer of most beloved snippets! Might I request a little something? I'd love to see Hero get injured by Supervillain and then have Villain go absolutely feral and just destroy Supervillain because that's their Hero and no one is allowed to touch them

Hello, friend! I am so glad you like what I put out there. I can definitely write this for you.

Please enjoy!

Warnings: physical violence, head injury, unconsciousness, blood

Villain's blood ran cold as they stumbled upon the fight. They had every intention of finding Hero and challenging them tonight. They did not think they would be challenging Supervillain instead.

They watched, consumed by rage, as Supervillain flung Hero like a rag doll into the wall. They watched, seeing red, as Hero crumpled to the ground and remained unmoving. And they watched, jaw clenched, as Supervillain flung the clearly unconscious Hero through the air once more.

Villain surged forward, catching Hero quickly. This was not ok. This was not acceptable. Hero lay limply in their arms, nose bleeding heavily. They had a cut along their eyebrow and a cut along their hairline. "Wake up," Villain urged, shaking Hero hard.

But Hero didn't wake.

"Oh, did I break the pathetic, little Hero?" Supervillain sneered as they came to stop just out of Villain's reach.

Villain was going to end them. "They're alive." Hero was theirs to beat. Theirs to hurt. Theirs to destroy. Not Supervillain's.

"Shame," Supervillain said as they stared down their nose at Hero. "I would have thought that last hit fractured their skull. No matter. I can finish them off now."

"Leave them alone," Villain growled as Supervillain walked towards them. Hero was theirs and theirs alone.

Supervillain stopped. "Why? I'm just putting a wounded animal out of its misery." Supervillain cocked their head. "Or would you like the honor?"

"You are not to touch a hair on their head, Supervillain." Villain laid Hero down gently.

"Or what?" Supervillain raised their hand once more.

Villain didn't hesitate. They charged, unleashing the power that they had hidden for so long. "They are mine to fight. Mine to hurt. Mine to destroy."

Supervillain's face paled. Villain had hidden so much power. "I didn't mean--"

But Villain didn't care. They were going to ensure that Supervillain never interfered again. The last thing they saw before the darkness enveloped everything around them was Supervillain's terror filled eyes. "I will destroy you. And then Hero will be all mine once more," Villain hissed into the gathering darkness.

[victoria-vd]

OFFSCREEN POST

The Calm

// tw: panic attack, injury, claustrophobia, physical abuse, discussions of missing children

To say that Victoria was on edge this afternoon would be the understatement of the millennium. 

The once comforting quiet of her dorm had fallen to a tense silence during the past week— as if the room itself held its breath for fear of being lashed out at by the girl that occupied it. The shadows cast by the flickering lanterns trembled in fear, and the curtains sat eerily still.

And yet despite the dim quiet of the room, it was all still too much for her. The air conditioning roared in her ears, the dancing shadows were visually overwhelming, and the soreness in her chest ached horribly. Lying in her bed did little to alleviate the pain from the bruises that littered her torso— putting pressure on her back only seemed to make her feel worse. But she hardly had the energy to sit or stand either, let alone walk and go about her school day as if nothing was wrong.

Just thinking about all the work that will have to be done to make up for her frequent absences…

The past week had been an absolute nightmare for Victoria both physically and mentally. 

She cast a glare at the Hatterene beside her bed. The mere sound of Barcelona’s breathing sent a wave of vexation through her. But she very well couldn’t tell her to simply stop breathing. Many would consider that rude. And her mother’s Hatterene was the last Pokémon she’d want to be rude towards.

The Pokémon in question spared a glance at the girl in the bed, flicking her tendril of hair from side to side like the tail of a cat. A warning. A silent command for Victoria to calm herself by any means necessary. Suppression of the self.

They both remember what happened the last time everything had been “too much”…

Victoria broke her gaze from Barcelona, turning away in the bed to face the wall. She squeezed her eyes shut in an attempt to block it all out. The lights. The sounds. The thoughts— both hers and everyone else’s.

Her powers were both a blessing and a curse. 

The young heiress felt a sudden warmth sneaking under her arm. She glanced down to find her Espurr forcing her way into her grasp, curling up beside her in the covers and nuzzling her head into her chest.

Esperanza. 

Victoria watched the little cat press itself against her. The Espurr had been a parting gift from the Wyrmwoods— dear family friends— shortly before she left for Naranja-Uva Academy that summer. They’d treated her like a second daughter.

A replacement for the daughter they’d lost: her best friend, Estelle Wyrmwood. 

… Has it really been seven years? 

The thought had sent Victoria into a spiral. She curled into herself, a lump tight in her throat. The time had flown by all too quickly and yet agonizingly slow all at once— she was acutely aware of the passage of time in her absence, and yet she was caught unawares by the realization of just how much time had passed. Soon, the years without Estelle will surpass the years with. 

(Across the room on the top shelf, the glass display case suddenly cracked.

Barcelona perked up at the sound, directing her attention to the girl beside her.)

But regardless of the presence or absence of Estelle in her life, her life has been defined by her only friend. 

…Well… that’s not exactly true, was it?

Wasn’t Esper also her friend? 

That question had plagued Victoria every day for the past month. What was Esper to her? The answer was complicated. She granted Esper luxuries that she’d bestowed to very few in her lifetime: her extended presence, a first name basis, the permission to use not just any nickname, but that nickname. There was a level of comfort she had with the girl that she found rare amongst individuals her age. She’d outright called Esper a friend of hers to the girls in the elevator. 

By all accounts, Esper fit the criteria of a friend. 

And yet Victoria hesitated to label her as such in her own mind. 

It felt like a betrayal to Estelle. 

Victoria turned her face into her pillow and choked out a quiet sob. Every heave of her chest sent a wave of pain through her torso. Her bruised ribs screamed at her to stop, but with just one moment of weakness, the entire dam had begun to crack under the weight of seven years of repressed emotions.

(The crack on the glass expanded, threatening to shatter at any moment. The flatscreen TV flickered to life for a moment before it too cracked under a sudden, invisible force.

No, not the screen. The whole TV.

The Hatterene whirled around to Victoria to place a handlike tendril on her shoulder, attempting to shake the girl out of the emotional spiral she’d put herself in.)

The young heiress hugged Esperanza to her chest, letting warm tears crawl down her cheeks. Esperanza; the subtle nod to Esper’s namesake had not gone unnoticed by her. Had she actually picked a name that fit her Pokémon? Or had she named the Wyrmwood Espurr after her in a poor attempt to fill a seven year long void?

Was she using Esper as a replacement for Estelle?

(The glass casing shattered into a million tiny shards that floated into the air. Loose objects scattered about the room levitated themselves from where they lie. A sudden pressure began to build within the dorm, like an invisible force was squeezing the outer edges of your skull, threatening to crush your brain matter between its palms.

Victoria was a ticking time bomb seconds away from exploding. 

Barcelona needed to act now.

She quickly snaked the tendril of hair around the girl’s torso and pulled her out of the bed—)

Victoria was suddenly ripped from the comfort of her bedsheets. Esperanza flew from her grip and was accidentally thrown to the floor. For a brief moment, panic surged throughout the girl’s entire body.

(The Hatterene pulled Victoria into the confines of her hair, encasing her in the cocoon of psychic-imbued strands that enshrouded her body.

When the risk of a psychic outburst was too great, the best solution was to suppress the psionic energy and block it from being expelled by the source.

To choke it out until it passes.)

NONONO. NOT AGAIN. NO SHE COULDN’T DO THIS AGAIN.

Victoria tried to thrash about and kick her legs wildly, but hair slithered up every limb to restrain her, leaving no gap for her psychic energy to escape. The bruises on her torso became increasingly apparent under the constriction of Barcelona’s hair. 

(The floating objects trembled in the air. The cracked TV crumpled into itself under the room’s pressure. The bathroom door flung open with enough force to knock it halfway off its hinges.)

Barcelona frowned at the state of the room. Hm. It seemed this outburst was particularly powerful. This could prove to be an issue…

Glancing to the nightstand where Victoria’s Pokeballs lie, she levitated them into the air and released the Pokémon from within.

Matador and Maria were quick to appear before her.

The Hatterene barked orders at the two Pokémon, directing them to assist in restricting Victoria’s psychic outburst to the confines of the room. They needed to act now before—)

A loud wail suddenly erupted from the other side of the room, briefly distracting the other three Pokémon to find the source of the noise.

Esperanza had started crying.

Which wasn’t a big deal.

The bigger issue was that this was enough of a distraction for Victoria to thrash her way out of her psychic prison.

And all Hell broke loose.

[wreckrinho]

"Omg daydreaming autism!!! Só silly nd aesthetic!!!!🌈🐬🦄☁️"

Tomorrow i'll have to go to the hospital because some days ago i just walked in circles around my house for almost 5 hours and now my legs hurt so much i cant move my feet. If I put a shoe on that foot I'm going to fucking faint no fucking joke.

But yeah stimming while seeing irep fanarts!!! heheeheh THIS is silly, not fucking dying--/hj

[catsockpuppet]

ETHAN’S SCARS!

@luzxii (because you’ve asked me about their scars before and this is a much more detailed explanation,), @facelessthefreak, @cursedthing , @batzdites

BACK SCAR:

these small scratches came from when ethan was around 15 when a group of friends planned to hang out at a small, closed off lake. the area was surrounded by a chainlink fence, one most people just jumped. ethan, having a small fear of heights, decided to crawl through a gap in the fence instead. this backfired however, because they got caught on the metal, tearing open their skin and leaving a permanent mark.

KNEE SCAR:

this scar was a bit simpler, ethan slipped off a few rocks when they were up north visiting aaron’s parents and scraped off a pretty large chunk of skin. eth was 16, turning 17 when this happened.

FACE SCAR:

ethan got this one from a, pretty nasty fight in highschool. they were 16, freshly moved from massachusetts where they'd grown up with their mother. unfortunately for ethan, being new meant they didn't know to avoid a few, specific people, which led to these people doing what assholes do best. shit talk. after a particularly nasty rumor reached ethan's ears, they'd had enough. they stormed up to their 'friend' and, without hesitation, punched her as hard as they could. breaking her nose and starting a full on fight with her as a result. turns out she had a pocket knife on her and, yeah.

SHOULDER SCAR:

PHYSICAL ABUSE WARNING //

when ethan was around 14, living with their mother and stepfather, their stepfather got,, extremely upset. it was the fourth of july and, something, something ethan never even learned, upset him. he grabbed a firework- one that'd been lit -and grabbed ethan's arm. driving the firework into their skin. they had to go to the ER, and the whole situation was explained away as a firework mishap. as ethan's fault for being 'irresponsible'.

// END OF WARNING

MISC SCARS:

you may have noticed the general scratches all over their body (excluding the scars on their thighs, those i'm not going to touch on). most of these scars were from general incidents throughout their life. fights in middle and highschool, accidentally cutting themselves with a kitchen knife, sometimes simply falling or tripping over something sharp.

[yarart4ever]

SPW day 3: True Love’s Kiss

ship of the day: Huskerdust (Husker x Angel Dust)

[good-beanswrites]

If it's okay with you, could you write a drabble about the hypothetical aftermath of Amane getting attacked by Kotoko?

Welp thank you pal for making me absolutely insane with this request 👍 I ran through a few hypotheticals and realized I had to shift some things around since there were so many absolutely tragic outcomes. I worked something out but damn if it didn’t make me emotional to think about how uniquely rough Amane has it. Even making sure she's in a good place at the end, this got pretty serious, so warnings for child abuse and cult references. 

(So in canon, Kotoko goes in order and attacks Fuuta, but Kazui steps in. Then she attacks Mahiru while he’s distracted with his injuries. She’s about to attack Amane, but Mikoto gets in the way (my hc that he did it on purpose survives!). By the time they reach a draw, Kazui is back, and the two of them can prevent Kotoko from any further action against Amane. Sticking to this apparent system of three attacks and one rescue, I’m just shuffling around the injuries for this story. Fuuta’s attack went unnoticed, and he’s in the same state as canon Mahiru. Mikoto steps in before Kotoko can fight Mahiru, so Mappi’s the one who get out physically unscathed. While Mikoto checks on Mahiru, recovers himself, or discovers Fuuta, Kotoko is able to attack Amane next. Kazui comes to help, but not before she leaves Amane looking like canon Fuuta.)

Mahiru could practically feel her heart shatter into a million pieces when Amane finally cried in front of her. She hadn’t shed a single tear yesterday – it was the shock, Shidou said. Mahiru was skeptical. After all, she had been shocked, too, and cried plenty.

Amane woke as she came in with breakfast. She took a moment to survey herself, bandages peeking out from beneath her pajamas and an eyepatch securely over her right eye. As calmly as one might say “good morning,” she started to cry. Mahiru might have missed it, if Amane hadn’t wiped at her good eye with her sleeve.

“Oh, sweetheart…!” Mahiru rushed over to her. “It’s okay, I’m here.” She wanted nothing more than to wrap the girl in a secure embrace, but she remembered the mass of bandages that were around her chest. Shidou had mentioned broken ribs and bruises. It took everything in her not to cry along with Amane, at the thought.

“I can get you another ice pack, if you need. Or more medicine.” Her mind spun with ways to help with pain. Many of the first aid supplies had been used to keep Fuuta from the brink of death, but surely there were extras to spare for Amane. 

The girl just shook her head. 

She muttered, “I can’t… I…I’m going to be punished, I’m going to be punished…”

“No! You’re safe now.” Mahiru placed her hands gently on Amane’s arms. “Kotoko’s not coming back. We’re all watching over you. You’re safe. She’s not going to hurt you anymore.” 

“That’s not…” Amane pulled away. Her voice stayed level, despite hiccups interrupting her. A hand reached up to her eyepatch. “It’s this. It’s all of this. It’s sinful. I took it off last night, but he must have…” She started unwrapping it. “They’re going to punish me...” 

With a careful motion, Mahiru held it in place and took Amane’s hands into her own. She’d been picking up on the signs ever since they arrived here together, and a final wave of understanding washed over her. 

“I can’t let you do that.”

Amane’s expression twisted, though words came out far more frantic than fiery. “Let me go.” 

Mahiru didn’t. “I’m sorry. Amane, you need this treatment.”

“That is not your decision to make. That is not any human’s decision to make.”

Mahiru pressed her lips together. “I know. But I can’t watch as you… I can’t sit by again while someone…” She was careful not to apply any pressure, but she could no longer fight the urge to gather Amane up in her arms. “You don’t need to be afraid of those people, anymore.”

“I’m not afraid.” Amane hiccuped. “They love me, and I love them. I need to be good for them.”

“I love you, and I don’t want to see you in pain.”

“You just pity me because I’m young.”

“Why does your age matter? You are a lovely young woman – you are my friend – and I can’t bear to see you in pain.”

The two sat in silence for a moment. Mahiru doubted she would take that as an answer; Amane had refused to call any of the others her friend. At least she didn’t argue. In fact, it seemed she was leaning into the embrace a bit more. She sighed a shaky breath into Mahiru’s uniform.

“Listen, Amane. Can you do me a favor? I’m trying to be a good girl, too. To make up for something awful, I need to make sure you’re alright. Can you help me? Can we be good together?”

A long pause followed. Amane’s voice spoke up, ever so gently.

“I suppose I can consider it.” She added quickly, “for the sake of your redemption. Of course.”

“Of course.”

[putuponpercy]

Thought about Journey Beyond Sodor again

[pomeraniandancer]

I bought BG3 three weeks ago, and I adore Karlach as much as the next person, but speaking as someone who has had an external fixator (and still has some internal fixation), MY GOD do those rivets look painful.

I'm obviously still pretty early in the game, but thus far it seems Larian missed an opportunity to include a chronic pain aspect to her infernal engine storyline.