#recall healing

[urloveangel]

affirmations for inner child healing and supporting your adult self 💗✍🏼✨

I am no longer responsible for my parents or their happiness

I am fully capable of surviving and thriving without my parents

I am no longer waiting for my parents to change or give me the love, support or care I desire

I am releasing all the expectations of my parents to be someone they’re not

I am accepting my parents exactly as they are and that they give me all they’re capable of giving

I appreciate the love and support my parents give me in their own way

I am responsible to give myself the love, care and support I desire and need

I am committed to fulfill my needs and love myself unconditionally exactly as I am

I am responsible for my life, happiness and healing

I am fully capable of supporting and being there for myself

[bloodfin]

quintessence ghouls have their cool healing and body powers, but i think water ghouls also frequently found in the halls of healing.

they have naturally cool temperatures, helping to soothe fevers. water bends to their will, they can clear sinuses with one tap to the forehead. dry eyes, dry mouth, dry skin, burns, all relieved by water's gentle touch.

sure, it's not setting bones and stealing migraines and sensing and preventing harm before it even occurs, but it's healing all the same

i thought too much about this

[martyrbat]

a female character isn't allowed to be a character that is also female. she isn't allowed her own agency and complex motives nor any deeper emotions without it being centered around the male cast around her or a child. even if she's not a mother, she remains one because she could always potentially become a mother or she is the ‘mom character’ to the men/children around her and her actions MUST reflect that. if they don't, she's labeled a selfish bitch. if she is an (actual) mother than that's all she is—she isnt allowed deeper characterization or discussion because thats all she'll ever be, that's all she was made to be. male characters are allowed to be fathers (lireral or in the sense of providing for the people around them) with deeper feelings but a mother? never a mother.

[spinetacks]

update on how many nickels we’d have for times he’s done a peace sign with a head wound

[batrogers]

Mangled Wild

Because I am prolific, and because the last like four things I wrote are too mild and I wanted to indulge.

Don't worry about it, @recalled11 knows what I did.

CW for graphic violence/injury and abuse of healing factor. Also on AO3, word count ~1500

IIII

“It’s not that we heal better than others,” Captain said. “We’re simply more likely to be equipped to handle it.”

Sky responded in a tired tone. “I didn’t say I thought we healed better by a large margin, but there’s a lot more injuries we have survived as a group than the average person.”

“I think judging us against a normal person is going to be biased, because we’re also significantly more likely to be injured than them.”

Link fought down a laugh and turned to walk backwards, curious what on earth had gotten the two of them arguing. They weren’t upset; he could see them both scanning the dim area around them, alert and focused on the distance as if for danger... but there had, so far, been nothing in the depths today. They were in a wide open area beneath the Gerudo desert, so far unchanged since he’d been here last months ago.

(Was it months? He could check; he had journal entries to read, notes he’d taken but he didn’t wish to do so right now even as the information came up just because he’d thought of it. Months, yes, although close to a year...)

“We’re also more likely to have multiple injuries in a row.” Sky squinted at something behind them and nodded his head. “Wild, what’s that mound? Do you know?”

Link turned quickly and looked, seeing only mounded darkness at first. It wasn’t red, or shining; it was dark and slow and ragged spikes of zonaite – gleaming in the light, but their internal light was paler and familiary – jutted from its skin.

Because it was skim. It was a sleeping frox. Link held up one hand and waved the other two back, hoping they didn’t (hadn’t) woken it, not yet.

“Wild—” Sky objected again. Captain hissed; Link heard the sound of hand on skin and staggered footsteps.

Heard the Frox huff, and it’s eye snap open.

He’d forgotten how fast they could be.

They’d been thirty, forty feet away: more than its body length. The frox went from sleep to lunging so quickly, he could only get his arms up before—

It didn’t slam into him; it engulfed him, mouth wide open. He splayed out hands and feet immediately, but its bony tongue slammed him against the roof of its mouth and knocked the wind out of him. He gagged on fetid air and slumped.

He slumped into the side of its mouth, and when it’s teeth came down he felt his thigh crush. He gagged on a scream and kicked out with his good leg, trying to drag himself free. The frox shifted, opened its mouth and its tongue swept from one side to the other, throwing him against the far side of its mouth instead. He threw out his hands and pushed back, narrowly escaping another bite. One forearm wedged between teeth, stuck and bruised.

At least it wasn’t his ribs this time. He exhaled, fighting down panic. It had to spit him out. It had to get annoyed, right?

It got annoyed, certainly: suddenly it thrashed its head and Link was thrown from its mouth. He hit the ground, hard, skull slamming into the dirt hard enough to daze him. He struggled towards his feet, hearing screams (Sky and Captain, he thought, screaming his name) and as he half-rose the frox reached out and slammed one massive paw onto his broken body.

Link screamed. His vision burst with colour; his lungs burned. Something wet was in his throat and on his face, and he thought it was about to grab him again while he still couldn’t move, and could barely think.

He wasn’t dying; he’d have had a fairy out if he was dying, but in Hylia’s name he felt like he should be.

At least death didn’t hurt this much.

Something boomed, nearby. The frox swung around violently, hard enough its tail slammed into his side and sent him skidding across the ground. His neck burned; there was blood in his eyes, his vision turning colours even when his eyes were open but the sudden adrenaline cleared enough of his head to focus: he could fix this.

Neck first. He had enough material to fix it. The process was easy, internal. He didn’t need help but it made this easier. It made it so he didn’t have to think about each piece.

It meant he wasn’t quite as aware of his bones as they snapped back into place. Losing swelling felt like ice in his veins, it was so sudden.

Ribs next. Stabbing pain became nothing; dull, aching throbs turned to something more like breathing in mist. He cracked his neck, like a reflex, as if it could distract him from each broke rib as it went back into place, but no. No, he was fine. He’d be fine.

Leg next. He wasn’t haemorraging, not externally. Apparently not internally either, but as he shifted focus he nearly blacked out. Oh, that wasn’t a simple break. He could feel the pieces of bone like knives in his muscle, cutting him even as they sought to fix themselves: shards wedged in muscle and other tissue coming free to reassemble into one, cohesive whole.

It was almost too much. He didn’t realize he was sobbing or screaming at all until suddenly someone was touching his face. He hissed, although the sound was more guttural than that and tried to push their hands away. He didn’t realize he’d put his weight on his bruised arm until it collapsed under him. He dropped, gagging and shaking, and he couldn’t tell what hurt more: his leg or his arm or—

Sky was talking. Sky was saying something, but he didn’t touch him again and Link just put up his good arm to ward him off as he tried to focus again.

It took longer than it should have. It still hurt so badly. He didn’t think there were other breaks; he shifted to his leg, his mangled leg and that slowly faded. His arm followed and as each sorted itself out, he tried to push himself back up.

“Shit, Wild,” Sky begged. He sounded hoarse; like he’d been crying or screaming too. “Don’t move, please don’t move!”

He tried to wave him off and flexed each arm, then twisted his neck again: no pain. He flexed his feet and legs, and it was almost... almost right. Something was still off. He shifted his focus to his chest and back and tried to turn over.

Something – something grated in place, like a knife through the stomach and he collapsed gagging to the ground. He wanted to throw up; he nearly did. Maybe he did. He wasn’t sure; he was sure he was in too much pain to think until he could force it to stop – stop – stop—

Slowly, the ache faded again. He slowly came to again, to Sky and Captain talking.

Well. Sky talking. Captain was breathing hard.

“...nothing’s broken. You’re sure you’re okay? It threw you a long way.”

“Fine,” Captain repeated. “I had a potion. How’s he?”

“I think he’s... I hope he’s gotten it all but he won’t respond to anything I try to say. He tried to move and collapsed once he started turning over, so either his back’s hurt or his pelvis...”

Link grunted affirmative to that and pushed himself over onto his back again. He did know better. He was fine; he would be fine. He exhaled slowly and shifted again, trying to check more thoroughly this time. A healing potion would likely be more effective: it addressed things without him having to think about them but as Captain just proved, they needed them more.

He could handle things himself just fine.

“Are you awake now?” Captain called.

Link raised one hand and closed it into a fist and spread it, checking first before he threw him a thumb’s up.

“Will you let one of us check if anything else is broken before you try and stand up aga...”

He didn’t finish, because Link pushed himself to sitting, quicker perhaps than wise but he was quite sure he was fine. He shifted in place again and stretched out each leg. The memory of pain from his hips lingered, but he didn’t want them to worry. He glanced around, to see the shattered and bleeding back of the frox nearby, and pulled an apple out into his hand to start eating.

“You killed it yourself?” he signed to Captain. “Good job.”

Captain and Sky exchanged dark looks, and Link deliberately took another bite, holding it in his mouth for another moment more.

“I’ll get the valuable parts out of the corpse for later use in a minute.”

[scalproie]

Domesticated Post-Tekken 2 Era Kazuya is my favorite to think about because this would be so good for him and everyone else but he would have an absolutely miserable time during it

[darkwood-sleddog]

Storm damage was minimal, we had a tree across the driveway that made me late to work and then one of our dog yard fence posts was down but I DIDN’T NOTICE until I had dogs in the yard and luckily they are very very good bc holy shit.

[spotsupstuff]

How/Who is Capers next mechanic after Sparrows? Did Sparrow leave anything behind for the next mechanic?

probably some poor ass higher circle twink that has No fuckin idea why this supposedly cheery happy-go-lucky Iterator is so dark and brooding and depressed. and (after Sparrows dies, cuz the 3rd would come in Ways before that) why is the energy constantly FUCKIN fluctuating, this instability is HARDLY fuckin HEALTHY what the HELL IS GOING ON IN HERE

he would have some meetings with Sparrows so she could give him some pointers, explain how certain Euros-specific things work (Euros Is build to be the Phone Operator Chief n all that so his comm systems are special), where she left off when it comes to perfecting the structure and prolly would tell him a little about who Euros as a person is as well. the meetings wouldn't be that plentiful or fruitful later down the line since she.. starts going senile and all that

Sparrows leaves behind a trainwreck of a man (physically absolutely Great condition, but oh gods the feels) so the 3rd Mechanic has to somehow deal with That all by himself. which is hard cuz Euros won't talk about it with some stranger that cannot be trusted with their secret. the 3rd is probably kind enough, genuinely worried, but still kind of a prick n not nearly as empathetic, humble and casual as Sparrows was. i imagine him with a nasal voice and a "uhhh.... actually-???" attitude most of the time

[thatsnotbuddies]

9 & 55, for Them! 💝

yes of courseee <3

9 - All My Love by Noah Kahan

55 - Apple Tree Blues by Caamp

[rainbowcolored7]

Uh, whoops, I tripped and fell back into my Luke Pasqualino fixation again haha oh darn.

[marsdemo]

brutal difficulty is so awesome i can't lie. ive been trying to beat the fuck out of 3-2 gabriel phase 2 enraged for like an hour now

[urloveangel]

I’ve been writing and burning letters to my parents and it’s been truly so healing and transformed my relationship with them… life’s easier with a lighter heart, we don’t need to carry old burdens and sorrows 🤍

[intelligentbees]

Hey since you are back, and absolutely no pressure at all like if you don’t want to, that’s pretty chill too, would you maybe be willing to finish one hundred last chances?

Ugh so like. Yes. Theoretically. But also I simply cannot Stand my old fics and like the only reason I haven’t deleted them off the face of the planet is bc I know other people enjoy them. So it would probably be too agonising for me to actually write up the second half? I wouldn’t get your hopes up I don’t think.

[citrine-elephant]

thinking about glenn arias getting some free time to absolutely fuck up leon during the whole fight on the top of the building

yknow, make chris sad and all that

[tenebriism]

«... How much do you remember?» To invoke a dead nation's glorious past in broad daylight may not seem like the wisest approach. At first. In Kaeya's defense, this man had been the one to confront him with what had long haunted him. It was only fair that he helped to satiate his thirst for knowledge, for something... more. 

«Tell me a story... From back then». His voice is quiet as he eyes his drink, playing with the glass's rim. Not a shy request, but a cautious one.

[ surprise, here's one for Dain too! www ]

The Boughkeeper supposes it was... expected. Eventually, this one would begin to inquire as to his OWN identity and backstory, their fates and stories intertwined more than, mayhap, even Dainsleif understood. " My memories are... selective, " he begins, CAUTIOUS as he speaks to the man with matching irises. 'Tis not that he does not TRUST Kaeya; if anything, Kaeya should not trust HIM, with how secretive he's been, and how OFT he has kept, mayhap wrongfully, to the shadows.

" One, in particular, that remains ever constant in my mind... is the day Khaenri'ah fell. I remember where I was. What I was wearing... who I was with, how my hair was styled. I remember how the sweat burned as it trickled into my eyes... how raw my throat felt as I yelled out for citizens and compatriots alike... "

Is this what Kaeya is seeking? A REMINDER of their fallen nation and a tragic recount of it? Mayhap not, but it is one of FEW memories that Dainsleif has that he can vividly recall, and retell, with confidence. Another one, more pleasant, comes to mind... just before the fall, of a life long lost to tragedy and time. A life where he knew how it felt to be human, and not the husk of the man he once was.

" I had a home... " He begins, voice quieting even more, if such was possible. He's never been particularly loud spoken, but vulnerability has seized what little volume he normally manages, " ... one with a garden. Friends who would bring me seeds to plant. A kitten who would bat and bite at the leaves... a man who would warm my bed from time to time. He would weave the blossoms into the strands of my hair, and amidst sweet bliss, I would forget they were there... only to show up to training that very next day looking like a flower myself. The laughter that would ensue... it is quiet, distant, but I do... remember it. "

All of it, gone... all of THEM... g o n e. The alcohol clutched betwixt his own fingers won't do anything--- nay, he shan't be found stumbling over himself from a couple glasses of liquid poison, but oft does he wish it would. These knights are able to forget their own hardships, however briefly, with the very thing Dainsleif currently swirls around in the glass he clutches a tad too tightly--- but that, too, is merely something else that makes THIS ailing knight less human, and more a shell of his former self.

@frozenambiguity ;;

[darabeatha]

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐁𝐄 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐃?  

knuckles.      it feels as though you have fought every day of your life. sometimes, you cannot even tell how much of the blood on your hands is your own... and how much comes from those who've tried to hurt those you defend. you deserve the gentleness of a kiss to your bruised knuckles and broken skin, a reminder that you are not only made of violence.