#tw mild animal injury

[zipzapzopzoop]

There's a Great Big Beautiful Tomorrow

Chapter 11: Follow the Yellow Brick Road

Lewis lied and told his parents he was carpooling to school with a friend today. 

He hate, hate, hates lying- especially to his new parents. But this was serious. He never would’ve done so if his family wasn’t in danger.

Lewis walked with Wilbur and Mrs. Robinson through the city, looking for any traces of the others. It would almost be fun if they weren’t so worried. Well… why does it have to be bad? Maybe it can be fun!

“Okay… I have an idea,” Lewis began.

“How about we make a little game out of it? First person to find a clue wins?”

At first he worried he was being insensitive… until the others’ faces brightened. Morale was up! “Alright…” Franny nodded. “Let’s think for a minute… If they could go anywhere… where would they go?”

------

Downtown was first, and It didn’t take long for things to begin popping up.

Wilbur pointed up at a blue stripe painted on the side of a building. 

“That’s one point for Wilbur Robinson!”

“Nicely done!” Franny ruffled his hair. Lewis took a good look at the wall. He suddenly noticed another stripe - purple this time- on the ground, leading down the same path. 

“I think he’s trying to lead us somewhere.”

Franny and Wilbur looked at the purple arrow. Wilbur glanced over and saw another yellow arrow painted on a fence. It also pointed in the same direction.

“Laszlo, you’re a genius…” Wilbur mumbled and began to follow, Lewis and Franny in tow. 

Suddenly, Franny froze. “Are you-”

Franny put up a hand.

“Wait. Did you hear that?”

“Hear what-”

Ribbit!

Franny spun around and practically dove into the pile of trash. She threw things aside, digging up the source of the little sound. There he is! A little frog in a suit. His leg was stuck under a garbage bag. The moment Franny moved it, he sprang up into Franny’s arms and clambered to her shoulder.

“Frankie! I’m so glad you’re okay! Are you hurt?”

“Not at all, just a little sore. Dodged a mean lookin’ cat and got my leg stuck. Boy am I glad you’re here.”

Lewis realized no matter how many times he sees them, he may never get used to seeing talking frogs.

Franny gave Frankie a light pet on the head and despite the tough demeanor, Frankie couldn’t help a happy croak.

------

Tallulah felt like she was going in circles.

When the paint on the wall began to take her to a darker part of town, the alleys stretched longer, the people were meaner, and the air reeked of all kinds of disgusting things. She had climbed a fire escape and slept there, but got no rest. Every minute that passed, she grew more worried about her brother. 

And now she was back to navigating the alleyways.

Tallulah was so focused on looking up at the paint that she almost walked into the chain link fence in front of her. She frowned at it. Maybe she’d find another way- around…

A low growling froze her in place.

She turned around to find two big stray dogs. They looked mean… and hungry.

Tallulah made a small sound and backed into the fence. “Hey… gentle…”

She knew it did nothing, but it was better than not trying at all, right… right?

A shriek escaped her throat when the dogs charged. 

Another dog squeezed under the fence and bit at one of the dogs. 

“Buster?!”

The two began to scrap. Buster was small but he fought with everything he had.

The other dog began to close in on her and was suddenly hit with- a meatball?

“Incoming!”

Tallulah looked up just in time to see Gaston jump the fence and get between her and the dogs. Buster let out a loud pained cry and Gaston turned his canon on the stray attacking him. Tallulah gasped when the other dog snuck up behind Gaston and latched onto his leg, earning a yell from the stuntman.

Tallulah looked around frantically and grabbed the first thing she saw - a sledgehammer. “Get back!” She swung at the ground, hitting the concrete and sending the dog away from her uncle. Gaston shot at the other dog and it let go of Buster, scampering away. “Bad dog!” Tallulah shouted, narrowly missing the stray and hitting the ground again. “Leave my dog alone, asshole!” Finally the strays retreated, tails between their legs. Good. Tallulah nodded with a huff. 

Don’t fuck with the Robinsons.

[octahedral-chaos]

Angeltober 2023 Day 18: Thorns

Woe it's sad thylacine hours

Angeltober 2023 prompts belongs to @ultrainfinitepit

Image ID under cut:

[Image ID: A digital drawing of a thylacine. It is light brown with dark, almost black, brown stripes and markings near its eyes, and light grey eye markings, snout tip, inner ears and paw gradients. It is shown from the waist up, rearing on its hind legs with its head pointed upwards, Jaws opened wide. There are silver "thorn vines" seemingly made of iron on the thylacine's neck, some of the thorns being jabbed into the skin and causing it to bleed. Its pure white eye is also crying tears. The background is a simple night sky, the full moon is near the thylacine's opened Jaw and everything is tinted slightly blue. /End ID]

[webdragon444]

!!!Warning: discussion of natural, but fairly graphic animal injuries!!!

Found an injured snake today… I’ll probably reblog in the morning with an update on whether or not they survived. More details below, beware of warning before reading!

My sibling found a snake on our lawn this morning, badly mutilated… My first assumption was that our dogs had got ahold of them, but looking at the wounds I doubt it(no signs of crushing/biting, broken bones or major internal injuries that a dog would leave), a bird dropping their lunch would be my guess.

They were still alive, but exhausted and struggling :( huge lacerations and punctures all over, but fairly shallow apart from one massive gash that left one section practically flayed…

I did my best to clean them up today, and will probably look into finding a rehab centre tomorrow if they last the night, but we’re in the middle of nowhere here… I set up a box with a heat lamp and bandaged the worst injury(yes, I’m aware bandaging a snake generally isn’t helpful but I needed something to hold the wound closed and I’m not about to risk injuring them further by attempting to sew a wound- I’m an amateur!) and now I’m just praying they live the night! Do wildlife rehabs even take garter snakes??

Anyway, just needed to rant I guess, please give advice if you can, I’m real worried they won’t live…

Picture of the lil’ guy after I did my best to clean them up :(

[haeryna]

the purest shade of white ↪ okkotsu yuuta x reader ⸙͎｡˚⋆ 𓋼

summary: yuuta looks almost like an angel, you think to yourself grimly, as you shift on the balls of your feet. you haven't seen your best friend in a couple years now, not since he left for africa. too bad he's attempting to kill the kouhai that you're trying to protect.

tw: manga spoilers! anime watchers, do not read. mild angst but happy ending. starts at the beginning of ch. 139. naoya zenin is here and he is his classic asshole self. reader is in the same grade as yuuta, both in age and in terms of cursed energy. swearing because reader is a bad bitch. mildly suggestive. unironic use of "senpai" and "kouhai." slight descriptions of blood and injury, everyone is subjected to the author's attempts at writing dialogue and fight scenes. not proofread but at this point that shouldn't be a surprise. it is blatantly obvious that the writer also does not know how to end stories

notes: thank you for 100 new friends! :) poll is technically still up but i'm impatient and yuuta was winning by a pretty decent margin so here it is lol. divider by @/saradika-graphics!

"Yuuji!" you yelp, slicing the head off a curse with a clean stroke of your katana. Purple ichor splatters to the ground as you whirl, searching for the familiar head of pink hair. "Stay close to me!"

Behind you, Choso grunts with exertion, sending out another bolt of Piercing Blood. Panting, you weave through the curses, letting their corpses fall behind you. Yuuji, where is Yuuji?

As the last body falls, you can't but let out an exasperated huff at the sheepish grin on Yuuji's face. "Don't scare me like that," you chide. "How am I supposed to protect you if I can't even find you?" Yuuji opens his mouth to protest but you shake your head. "I made a promise," you tell him, pain rippling through your heart dully. Gojo-sensei was long gone, stolen away by one of the people he had loved most in the world. Grimacing, you sheathe your katana, mindful of the blood that stains your palms, as you try to ignore the memory of his words all those months ago.

If anything happens, I need you to protect Itadori Yuuji. I know they're going to pull something on him once I'm not there to back him up.

"Senpai, what should-"

Yuuji immediately tenses as your hand flies to the grip of your katana. "I smell a rat," you mutter, nose wrinkling as you turn to face Naoya Zenin, standing atop a bridge. He bares his teeth at you in semblance of a smile. "How perceptive as always," he mocks.

"Cut the bullshit," you snap, hand still resting on the pommel. "What do you want?"

"Fushiguro Megumi," is his rather bland response, and you shift your feet into the opening steps of Flowing River.

"What do you want with Fushiguro?" Yuuji yells, and the way Naoya's face twists makes you want to vomit.

"I think I'll have him die."

Cursed energy fills your body as you leap. Naoya's resounding cackle burns through your ears as you swing, barely grazing his shoulder. Before you can push forward off your feet, a heavy presence rests on your shoulders, locking you in place. All four of you freeze. Yuuji and Choso look horrified, and Naoya looks as though he's broken out into a cold sweat. But you know this feeling, feel it settle back into your body as if it never left.

Okkotsu Yuuta steps out from the building ledge, dark eyes unreadable. Your body sings. Yuuta, Yuuta, Yuuta! His hair has grown longer, bangs sweeping over his forehead, eyebags a little darker than they used to be. You can feel Rika's presence, swirling around you in a mass of death and decay. You're used to it. You've grown to crave it, even. His eyes meet yours, and for a split second, his facade cracks. Confusion, fear, and...regret?

Yuuta leaps, slamming into concrete and sending shockwaves deep into your bones. "Who's with Itadori?" God, even his voice is different, so different from the boy who said goodbye to you so long ago. You open your mouth to speak, but Choso beats you to it, brows furrowed.

"So you're Yuuji's executioner."

Blood turns to ice in your veins, and you can tell by the pained expression Yuuta has that you aren't hiding your emotions as well as you think you are. Naoya laughs. "I was going to tell you that, but you were being too emotional like the bitch you are."

"Who're you?"

Yuuta's voice is cold, but as Naoya babbles on, you can feel the horror settle thickly into your chest. Choso and Yuuji are talking behind you but it feels like you're underwater, you're sinking, drowning, and Yuuta must have come to a conclusion because all of a sudden he's surging forward-

You move before you can even think, steel clashing against steel. "Yuuji," you say, through gritted teeth. "Run."

A horrible grating noise fills the air as you let cursed energy flow through your body, shoving Yuuta's sword away from yourself. "I won't let you kill him," you hiss, body already shifting into Jagged Bolt. Yuuta's eyes flash as you surge forward, katana in hand.

"How would you describe my cursed technique?" you had asked Gojo, mindlessly swinging your feet. Gojo hums.

"Have you ever heard of Newton's Law's of Motion?"

You had crinkled your nose at that. "No?"

"An object in motion, stays in motion. Except you are the object. And your cursed energy is the motion." You remember how Gojo's lips curved slightly. "In other words, once you start, nobody can stop you."

You're crying, you realize with a start, as you cut a line into Yuuta's chest. Moisture seeps from your eyes as you twist your forearm into a parry, katanas sparking with each strike. Belatedly, you sense that Yuuji, your foolish, stupid, loyal kouhai has stayed, trading strikes with his fists between the precise movements of your blade. Your heart drops as Yuuta reaches for the ring on his finger.

No. No!

He twists it, and Rika appears behind you. Claws sink into your shoulder and you let out a cry of pain as she flips you into the ground.

"Be nice, Rika," Yuuta chides, as you hit the concrete. Blood spurts from your mouth as you choke, fingers clawing at the ground desperately for your katana. A piece of scaffolding is practically crushing your legs; instinctively, you know that if you try to break through it, you'll tear your limbs right off.

As Rika holds Yuuji up, you lunge desperately, uncaring of what you have to sacrifice. Inumaki's arm, the way half of Nobara's face had been practically ripped out of her skull, the remains of Nanami-san, the way that you were the one to find Maki's charred body-

I can't lose anyone else.

You scream as Yuuta pierces Yuuji's chest with his katana, cursed energy building in your legs as you prepare to shoot forward. Yuuta turns, eyes filled with an unidentifiable emotion as he sees you about to tear yourself in half just to reach Yuuji.

With a wave of his hand, Rika dives for you, and everything goes dark.

Yuuta had known you were special from the day he'd first met you. That spring, when Gojo-sensei had dropped him (and Rika) into a class of unsuspecting first years, he remembers that out of the four of them, you had moved so gracefully that he hadn't processed the katana in your hand until you'd pressed it against your throat.

"Gojo-sensei," you'd hissed. "What is this?"

While Maki, Inumaki, and Panda had been subsequently bruised up by Rika, you had dodged every single one of her movements until Rika had been (barely) called back by Yuuta.

"Another Special Grade," Gojo had hummed. "Just like you, hm?"

Special Grade?

What he hadn't realized then, he realized later; you weren't just special to him, but to the entire rest of the Jujutsu World as well. Special Grade Sorcerers were rare, Maki had told him. "You only have it because of Rika," she'd scoffed, "but she deserves it."

You quickly became one of his closest friends. You were fast enough to dodge Rika's ire, even laughing whenever she tried. You'd shown Yuuta kindness that he didn't think he deserved. You broke him out of his shell enough so that when he left for Africa, he felt as though he was standing with his own strength. His first katana had been the sister blade of your own, forged from the same metal by the same hands. The way your eyes had lit up when you saw it was a memory he cherished.

Somberly, Yuuta eyes the chains encasing your wrists and ankles, each decorated with the slips of protective paper that would nullify your cursed energy. Most sorcerers required only one. You required at least twenty.

He knows you, knows the way you always take the strawberry daifuku, leaving him the red bean ones even though he knows you prefer the red bean. He knows that you push yourself hard, harder than he's ever seen anyone work. But most of all, he knows your loyalty, how once your heart finally lets someone in, you'll never let them go.

Did you miss him like he missed you?

The chains are more for your own protection. He needs you to hear him out before you attempt to end his life for a second time. Yuuta knows now that Gojo must have asked you the same thing he'd asked him; to keep Itadori Yuji safe from the whims of the higher ups. Gojo, being the forgetful bastard he was, probably didn't alert you to the fact that he'd gone to Yuuta for help as well. Crouching, Yuuta eyes your body with a sad tilt of his lips. The injuries you'd sustained were immense, and it had taken quite a bit of his own cursed energy to reverse.

Will you forgive him?

You're asleep, breath hitching every so often. Yuuta wonders what you're dreaming of, before pushing the thought away. Tenderly, he cups your face in the palm of his hand, calloused fingers stroking your cheek.

"You need to wake up now," he murmurs, as your eyes flutter open, first in dazed confusion, before sharpening into panic.

"I'll miss you!" you'd cried, as you clung to Yuuta under the shade of the large oak. You were the first person he had told about his departure to Africa, and you took it hard. Yuuta had stood frozen as the first of your tears had dripped down your cheeks. It was the first time he'd seen you cry.

"I'll be back before you know it," he'd murmured, pressing a featherlight kiss to the top of your head. You'd looked up to him, eyes teary.

"Promise?"

"I promise," he'd said, interlocking his pinky with your own. A love like Yuuta's is a dangerous thing, you know, but in this moment you feel nothing but safe.

The first sensation you feel upon awakening is the dull ache in your (miraculously still attached) legs. The second is the warmth on your cheek. Yuuta is standing above you, hand gently resting against your face. Immediately you lunge forward, teeth bared. The rattle of chains stops you, and you swear. Of course he would have taken precautions. Yuuta looks almost hurt as you violently shake off his touch.

"Don't touch me, I swear to god I'm going to rip you apart."

Yuuta says your name sadly, but you're practically trembling with rage.

"He was just a kid, with the kind of power we wield, why the fuck would you listen to the higher ups?"

Yuuta echoes your name a bit more firmly, but you ignore him, tears building in your eyes.

"You're no better than the rest of them are you, you're just-"

"Senpai!"

Your heart stops as Yuuji pokes his head out from around the corner. They must have brought you back to Jujutsu Tech, you think distractedly. Just how long were you out?

"Yuuji!" you cry out, scanning his body for any injuries. He seems to be uninjured, but most importantly, he's alive. Tears fall down your cheeks. "Are you alright?"

Yuuji appears horrified by the sudden outburst as he hastily holds up his hands. "I'm fine, senpai, really, I'm sorry for worrying you. Okkotsu-san is actually on our side, I swear! It was a binding vow, that's why he had to actually kill me, but he did some really cool Reverse Technique shit and I'm all good now!"

Warily, you eye Yuuta, whose expression resembles that of a kicked puppy. "Okkotsu Yuuta," you say, voice hard. "Let me out of these chains right fucking now."

With a wave of his hand, the papers attached to the chains fall to the floor. Yuuta looks dejected as he looks away from you. "I'm so sor-"

Before he can finish you immediate tackle him into a hug, knocking the both of you into the floor as you bury your face into the soft slope of his neck. "You're such an idiot," you sob, unable to hide the rush of emotions going through you. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Tentatively, Yuuta wraps his arms around you, and you melt, pressing yourself closer to his body. "To be honest, I think Gojo-sensei is to blame. I think he forgot to mention to either of us that he asked us to do the exact same thing."

You let out a hiccupping laugh. "Of course he did. That forgetful asshole."

The sigh Yuuta lets out is shaky as he nuzzles the top of your head. "I'm so, so sorry," he tells you earnestly. "I must have scared you, and Rika's mad at me for making me hurt you like that. I think she likes you, even though she pretends not to."

You look up at him, really look at him, and see the look of adoration in his eyes as he stares back down at you. Thankfully Yuuji's escaped long ago, most likely understanding that you two would need privacy. "You came back," you whisper, and Yuuta's resulting smile makes your heart skip a beat.

"I promised you, didn't I?"

Before you can stop yourself, you pull Yuuta down for a searing kiss. He's so soft, and you nip at the plush of his bottom lip teasingly, pulling a whine from his throat. His large hands grip your hips, and in retaliation, you grab a fistful of his hair and tug. The breathy noise he makes goes straight between your thighs. You know he can feel your smile against his lips.

"I missed you," you breathe, pulling away. Yuuta looks dazed, lips kiss swollen, pupils so dilated that you can barely see the soft brown of his eyes.

"I love you," he blurts out, and your resulting laugh is airy as you press another chaste kiss to his lips.

"I've always loved you, Yuuta," you admit. "During Shibuya, I thought I wasn't going to make it. You were the only thing keeping me going."

The look in his eyes is fierce as he tugs you back into him, enveloping you in his arms. "You'll never have to worry about that again. You have my entire life. Where you go, I'll follow, and if I die, not even Death would be able to separate me from your side."

"Those sound a lot like wedding vows, don't you think?"

Yuuta's blush covers his entire face and you grin, pressing one last kiss to his lips. "Come on now. We have kids we need to protect."

As Yuuta leads you to where the others have convened, even under the dark circumstances you're in, the warmth of his hand clutching yours fills you with a giddiness you hadn't experienced in months. The sentiment is quickly dashed as soon as Maki opens her mouth.

"Fucking finally. Inumaki owes me 3,000 yen."

[xx-j4nu5-c4t5-xx]

tw: mild description of blood (it's not that bad I swear)

Large info dump about Sims aliens and their biology and stuff (it's well past midnight and I got bored)

So I have my own ocs that I've been working on for a while but I've moved them into the brain basement for a while to fixate on these stupid little pixel guys from 2004. Anyway one of them has blue blood because I thought it would be funny, and now I'm a firm believer that the Sims 2 aliens have blue blood.

My only reasoning for this is that having red blood in a green character feels... weird? Like, your skin is not one solid thing. It's like a million translucent layers stacked on top of each other with stuff between them. Like a lasagna. That's why, when you put your hand over a flashlight, it glows red; the light is passing through your skin and all the stuff in it (notably, blood vessels).

Human skin, by default, is a yellow-ish white, like dandruff. It gets color from the blood vessels and pigmentations in the layers of the skin. This is why tattoos work, why melanin alters your skin color, and why your face can blush red, among other things. If alien skin is the same white, you'd need a shit ton of green pigment to balance the red from the blood, which would make them look kinda weird and muddy color-wise. If the blood is blue, though, everything runs smoothly. Yellow/white-ish skin + blue blood = mint green.

Though it only exists in weird animals like horseshoe crabs and some spiders (I think), there is a kind of blood that naturally comes in a sky blue color. This is because it contains hemocyanin instead of hemoglobin, using copper instead of iron. Hemoglobin uses iron to bond with oxygen and move it somewhere, and turns red in the process (like rust). When copper is oxidized, though, it turns that bright, Statue of Liberty ass turquoise color. This makes the hemocyanin blood into this blue raspberry looking concoction.

(Hemocyanin also completely messes with the biology of a creature; it is not interchangeable with hemoglobin but let's suspend disbelief for a second. For the vine.)

Anyway, enough rambling. I think the aliens are blue blooded. This makes them look more natural when I draw them, and it makes the hybrid Sim-aliens more unique and less "normal guy but green". This also affects everything that your normal blood would affect though, so I have to keep in mind that their everything is blue. Veins in the eyes, eye bags, injuries and scars, body tissues (like the mouth), blushes, sunburns, bruises, basically anything that would normally be purple/red/pink in a normal human is teal/blue.

Hope y'all enjoyed the autism thought slop I just dumped on you. Most of this info is stuff I read on Wikipedia or just a surface level understanding of human anatomy. Don't quote me on it + feel free to correct me if I'm wrong.

Also, all of this is headcanon nonsense, there's no objectively right or wrong answer. I'm just a nerd and love having really excessive lore explanations for the creative liberties I take. If you like your aliens red-blooded, I dig it. I just find it personally less of a headache on my end to go this route.

I really need to go to bed have a great night folks

[haruka-norikoyo]

Chifuyu Matsuno x reader

Treating him while injured. Not the most original idea, but I really wanted to write for him and review my first aid knowledge lol

TW: mentions of blood and injury, and profanities

~~~~~~~~~~~

You nearly get a heart attack opening your door in the middle of the night to see Chifuyu’s bloody visage at your porch. It’s not the first time he’s come to you after a fight but holy hell does he look ready to keel over right now.

“(Y/n) it’s me—”

“Fucking shit dude…” you mutter, grabbing his arm to pull him inside, ignoring the pained yelp that escapes his mouth. Oops. You must’ve grabbed a wound.

You sit him down on a stool in the kitchen. “Seriously, you look like the walking dead,” you say flatly, leaving to sort through the cupboards for medical supplies. The boy only grins in return, much to your chagrin. You return with the supplies, scowling at all the blood dripping down his face. “Don’t make that face, it’s not as bad as it looks…”

“I’d hit you for being so dismissive if you weren’t already so injured,” you say, raising your arm to prove your point.

He chuckles. “Why you gotta be violent?”

You don’t dignify him with a response. Instead, you focus on examining his wounds. The blood on his face makes it hard to see where he’s hurt. You know that cuts along the forehead are dramatic, though, so you don’t worry too much. What’s concerning is his arm. It looks a little too bent than it should. You hope it’s just your imagination.

Firstly, you clean his wounds. “Make sure to wash these properly twice a day. You still have the soap I gave you?” For now, you just dab a damp cloth you sterilized over his face.

“Yeah, that mild soap or something, right?”

“Uh huh,” you set the bloody cloth into the sink, serializing a new one. His face is now mostly cleared of blood. Though, his wound on the left of his forehead remains bleeding, so you take out a gauze pad. “Keep this over your forehead while I tend to your other wounds.”

Chifuyu obliges, raising his less beat up arm to hold the gauze. He watches you, as you apply ointment over the cuts on his face. Its coolness soothes his skin. With how close you are, he notices the way your brows crease, how you purse your lip as you try to remember what you were taught about first aid, and how you’re so focused on your task that you don’t see the way his eyes dilate. “You’re scary when you get like this.” After all, he’s sure his heart isn’t meant to be beating so fast.

You tear your eyes away from his wounds, deadpanning. “Really? I’m scary but you fight middle schoolers on steroids?”

He shrugs, “Eh, I don’t think they have access to steroids…”

“That’s more terrifying to know that they just naturally look thirty as middle schoolers,” you mutter. You decide to leave the cuts on his face alone for now, more concerned about his arm. You point at it. “That. Did you break it?”

Chifuyu smiles wryly, looking away. “Mm… I guess I might’ve heard a crunch…” He sneaks a glance at you, who stares at him, unimpressed. “Don’t glare at me…”

You sigh. After dealing with his busted knuckles, you take out a sling bandaid. “Are you able to raise it over your chest? Don’t push yourself, though.”

“I think so,” he winces. Pain shoots through his arm as he bends it, but nothing too unbearable. Before long, he’s able to rest it properly in the sling. “Neat. You should open your own clinic when you’re older.”

You roll your eyes. “It’s not too difficult if you remember the steps. I can teach you sometime.”

Chifuyu hums, looking up in thought. “Meh, I’d rather swing by your clinic.”

“Don’t tell me you still plan on getting injured in fights even when we’re adults,” you cross your arms, grimacing. Really, this boy will be the death of you.

He looks at your expression, leaning back against the counter top behind him. “Well, maybe not fights. I mean, if I were to own a pet store beside your clinic then surely I’d need help with a couple scratches or animal bites, right?”

You blink at him. Seeing the blush tinting his cheeks at his imagination of the future, you can’t help but chuckle. “Where did you get that I’d be owning a clinic?”

“Cause you’re good at taking care of me, duh?” “I thought you wanted to be a pilot?”

Chifuyu shrugs. “I can do both. That way I get to come to your clinic everyday.

You laugh again, shaking your head. “I should start charging you.”

“Hey, no. I don’t have enough money for that. You really are gonna charge me when I’m injured?”

“That’s how hospitals work.”

“T-True…” “My first aid license isn’t free, you know,” you grin at the increasing panic in his face. “Huh?! It’s like fifty dollars per year..!” He hovers his hand in front of you when he realizes normal reasoning won’t work. “Think about it. You may be taking classes in first aid, but you said you only do hands on stuff every now and then, right? Thanks to me, you get to practice.”

“Hm,” you you tap your chin as you pretend to consider it. “I suppose this all is very helpful…”

“Right?”

You flash him a thumbs up, “Alright, then. Keep getting beat up.”

“You heartless little…” Chifuyu’s eye twitches as he stares at you. But he eventually shrugs, turning away dramatically. “Oh well, I’ll do it. For you…”

“Eugh,” you roll your eyes, responding with a mock gag. “Yeah yeah, lemme see if your forehead stopped bleeding.”

Chifuyu gets rid of the gauze, allowing you to examine it. “Hm… yeah, I think I should be able to apply ointment now,” you do so, finishing it up by taping a fresh gauze over it. “There we go. Make sure not to put alcohol on it. It’ll make it worse.”

He nods, flashing you a dorky grin and salute. “You got it doc.”

You look over his bruises and areas beginning to swell, heading over to the freezer for ice. “Use both an icepack and warm compress for your sprains an bruises. You see, swelling helps speed up healing. That’s why the body does it.”

“Huh, you learned that in your first aid classes?” he hums, catching the icepack you toss his way. “How come we ice it down then?”

“Too much swelling is bad. So you gotta alternate warm and cold for a speedy recovery.” You’re already done with patching him up, so you start tidying your medical supplies. “Mhm…” he nods, icing down his bruises. It’s difficult to do for some areas. “It’s going to be a pain in the ass to fight with only one arm.”

He realizes he messed up when you set the first aid kit down with a thud. Before he knew it, you’re up at his face with your hand gripping his collar. “You are not fighting with a broken arm.”

“Okay okay..!” he raises his free arm. “Calm down.”

“I’m calm,” you say, releasing your grip and letting your arm fall to your side. “I’m asking Baji-san to make sure you won’t fight until you’re recovered.”

Chifuyu smiles wryly, “Come on, have you no faith in me? No need to go that far…” You stare at him, and he knows exactly which incident you’re on about. “That was one time.”

“One time that I caught you… and one time too many.”

He sets the icepack on his lap and scratches the back of his head. “It couldn’t be helped. The guys were in a pickle.”

The two of you sit in awkward silence until you vent out a sigh.

“I know you have your responsibilities as the division vice captain or whatever your title is in Toman… and I’m not expecting you to stop fighting altogether. That would be selfish of me. But…” you look at him. “…could you at least… wait until your arm heals?”

Chifuyu’s heart aches at the hesitance in your tone, as if you’re afraid of crossing the line. Little did you know that he’d gladly rewrite that line for you.

He can’t bring himself to continue acting nonchalant. Not with how you’re looking at him right now. “Yeah… I’ll wait until my arm heals. I promise,” he offers you a smile that he hopes conveys his sincerity. “You don’t have to worry, okay?”

You scrutinize him a moment longer. “Okay.” He sighs in relief, but his breath hitches when you suddenly wrap your arms around him.

“Thank you, Chifuyu.” He remains still. You’ll make his heart explode someday before any injury kills him, he knows it. Maybe you’ll hear his brain screaming telepathically if he focuses enough. Somehow, he manages to raise his uninjured arm to your head, patting your hair down. “I should be the one saying that.”

“Say it then. Don’t be shy.”

Chifuyu smiles wryly. Of course you had a retort locked and loaded. He walked right into that one. He pauses, shifting his head so that his lips are against your ear with his hand still behind your head.

You shiver from his breath fanning against you, face heating up.

He smiles as he notes this. With his voice low against your ear, he whispers. “Thank you for always taking care of me, (y/n).”

[beelsbignaturals]

🪼DEMON FORMS: LEVIATHAN🪸

AN: Please check my obey me world building tag for the other posts in this series.

Inspo for this particular post: @bubbiedubs @hotdemonsummer @galoismyhimbo @waltnut @unluckykay

TWs: body horror just to be safe, mentions of mild injury, venom, drowning mention. Demons looking somewhat demonic. 

● Lvl 1.5 Starting with our loveable fishy boy, his "half n half" state has the following: a scattering of scales across his body, the biggest concentration is on his shoulders and legs. His teeth are shark-like and super sharp. He accidentally cuts his mouth all the time since he has a nervous habit of chewing on his lips. His freckles (yes, I am a Levi freckle truther) become bioluminescent but only barely. His ears look like fins. He has an extra eyelid for seeing underwater better. He also has a forked tongue. It looks cool as fuck. 

When you fuss over the demon, applying salve to the cuts the frequently littering his mouth, his ear fins wiggle ever so slightly. Is it in delight or embarrassment? Both. If the freckles glowing with a pinkish hue across his cheeks are anything to go by. When you exit his room, leaving a small jar of the healing balm behind, you might just hear a mumbled "Thanks, normie" as the door clicks shut.

● Level 2 has an increase in scales. They cover his chest all the way to his neck and down his arms. They start to become more sparse the further away they are from his torso. His horns and tail make an appearance. The bioluminescence is more noticeable, and his eyes glow bright orange in the dark. Oh! And he has visible gills! Other than that, he has everything from his level 1.5 form

You knock on Leviathan's door, having been told to go tell him dinner is ready since he isn't answering his DDD. You hear... sniffling from inside. Being the caring person you are, you crack the door open and softly call out his name. "Levi? You okay?" A large bundle that you thought was a pile of dirty laundry turns out to be a large blanket wrapped around the third born. It's completely dark aside from the illumination from the aquarium and his TV, which is paused on a tragic anime death. The blanket over his head creates even more shadow. The only thing you can see is two blowing orange dots staring straight into your soul. A pathetic sniff comes from the blanket cave, tugging on your heartstrings. Dinner is forgotten as you join the distraught demon on the floor.

● Level 3, everything from the last two but with the addition of his teeth growing longer, becoming more needle-like and his lips all but disappear. Since they would just get in the way of his teeth. He has an extra set of gills on his sides. His horns grow bigger, branching out like coral. He also grows one of those lure things anglerfish have, and his tail gets longer. Both his freckles and the light on the end of the lure glow extremely bright when he blushes. His hands and feet become webbed. His arms and legs start to have delicate looking fins along them. As well as a larger one on his spine. He needs to be kept moist, or his skin will crack, and it's gross and painful. He prefers to be submerged in water, but if he needs to leave his room, just mist him like a plant, and it'll be fine. This is the form he takes after the trivia battle… yay.

Scolding Levi for what feels like the hundredth time today, you toss one of Asmo's many expensive lotions at the demon. If this man doesn't start taking care of himself, you think you might scream. His lure and freckles flash various bright colors as you unceremoniously grab his leg and apply the lotion, being sure not to hurt the fragile frilly gills in the process.

● Level 4. Levi is every sailor's nightmare. If there is a sea monster story? That's probably him. He is completely aquatic like this. Which can be a hassle. For practical reasons, his size is dependent on how much water he has access to. For cute reasons, this means he can be a very tiny nightmare fuel sea serpent and hang out with Henry 2.0 in his aquarium. In theory, you could put him in a glass of water and carry the mini-Levi around with you. THIS GOT WAY TOO CUTE OK, so back to the freaky shit. If given enough water, Leviathan's horns will turn into a fully functional coral reef. Man has his own ecosystem. His teeth are large, thin, and incredibly sharp. They don't all fit in his mouth. He is covered in orange spots similar in shape to a blue ring octopus. And they serve the same function, letting everyone know, "HEY THIS DUDE IS VERY TOXIC" (physically, not emotionally). He secretes a toxin that, if you come into contact with it, it will cause your lungs to fill with water, no matter what environment you are in, until you drown. Luckily, unless he is super emotional, Levi has full control over it and can choose not to poison everyone. I mean, sometimes he will take on this form for funsies (playing with Lotan) so he doesn't need to be constantly secreting magic poison.

"HEY!" You shout at the glass of water in your hand. A certain otaku had a bit of a tantrum and summoned Lotan on school property. It's your job to babysit him while he's in The Timeout Cup. Levi has since calmed down tremendously and is rather playful. By spitting a stream of water at your face. The little shit!

[descaladumidera]

TW for GotG Vol. 3

I watched Guardians of the Galaxy – Vol. 3 last night and while I think it was a good movie (one of the better ones in recent years, like, I think it was genuinely good), I also think it warrants some trigger/content warnings. So. I will do just that to keep y'all safe (please be careful).

With that said, this will obviously contain spoilers. I will put the general trigger/content warning under the cut and then further down will explain what happens in the movie, so you can pick and choose which triggers you want to know about. And if you have any further questions, you can always DM me here or on Discord and ask. I will do my best to answer them.

I don't claim that I will get everything, though, as memories are fickle things and I'm not perfect.

Anyway, onto the trigger/content warnings:

BODY HORROR/BODY MODIFICATION

ANIMAL ABUSE/ANIMAL CRUELTY

ALCOHOL ABUSE

GORE

(There's also some fighting with more or less fatal injuries, but as this is a superhero movie, I won't go into detail about this.)

BODY HORROR/BODY MODIFICATION

To preface this: This is Rocket's story. So this theme is all throughout the movie and it is graphic. There are a bunch of animals other than Rocket that others have been experimenting on (the otter from the trailer for example). And it's way worse with them than with Rocket. The otter has no arms anymore, instead she has rudimentary prostheses, a rabbit has been modified to have some mechanical spider legs and a mask, a walrus has modified eyes and some kind of wheelchair like thing to get around. This is all integrated into their bodies, these are not removable. There are other animals like this.

You have probably also seen the society of anthropomorphic animals in the trailer. There are scenes in which it gets shown how they were made—it's graphic. The first time we see this they use a tortoise and you can see the transformation and it's not pretty.

Then there's Nebula who gets basically killed several times, her limbs and neck and whole body bent and broken in ways no one would survive. And she fixes herself in a horror like way (remember Wanda emerging from the mirror in MoM? Something like that).

Groot gets beheaded once and the head crawls around like some kind of spider for a brief amount of time (until he regrows himself). Not that bad, but I thought I should mention it.

As said, this is the theme of the movie, this is Rocket's story, and it is pretty damn graphic for an MCU movie. This is also the biggest trigger warning imho.

ANIMAL ABUSE/ANIMAL CRUELTY

Several animals (not just Rocket) get experimented on and killed. They get abused and mistreated and kept in cages. Their bodies get mutilated in those experiments and their bodies get modified. It's a bit of a horror show.

(More details in the body horror/body modification part above this one.)

ALCOHOL ABUSE

Peter gets blackout drunk to the point of passing out in the first few minutes of the movie. He is trying to deal with his broken heart this way and, according to his friends, this is not the first time. But it's the only time we see this in the movie.

GORE

Pretty mild case when it comes to gore tbh., but better safe than sorry. A character's face gets taken off and you see the skull, muscles, and blood beneath it. The character is still talking afterwards (it's pretty much at the end of the movie).

I didn't know if I should put it under gore, but I also didn't know where else to put this. But there is a planet/spaceship/whatever like thing that is a living organism. It looks pretty gross and you can actually see it briefly in the trailer when the Guardians jump out of their ship in the colorful spacesuits. Everything in this place is organic and they cut through the skin in one scene and the sounds are just pretty gross imo. Also, the interaction with this organism is … How do I describe this? Like, sometimes they put their hands on the "buttons", but it's like this semi-liquid goo? And this goes on for quite some time.

[raw-law]

oh, you people want more stories? gladly.

mild tw for injury, nothing graphic

so as a younger child, i went to the zoo quite frequently. and this zoo had an area with goats and a bunch of little machines where if you put a quarter in and turned a handle you'd get a little treat for the goats. i, the dumbass that i am, rested my hand on top while talking to my friend who was with us. she decided to try and get food from the dispenser without putting a quarter in. i couldn't move away fast enough, and my middle finger got caught in the machine. it hurt like HELL. my mom had to pry my hand out with a plastic spoon and there were So many people watching. my mom called my friend's mom to take her home and then took me to the ER. i got a splint on my middle finger but i wasn't brave enough to flip off the nurse who put it on. shame, it would have been so funny...

-rainbow dash

Light:

Okay, that's actually terrifying. Is your middle finger okay now...

Interesting story though, your life is certainly rather amusing (if that's the right word? I can't find an equivalent English translation...). Sorry that I can't really give any reply, but I do enjoy reading these, so if you'd like to tell us more, feel free to!

L:

my god.. i mean, flipping off the nurse would've been pretty funny, but i too am more concerned with the state of your finger.... oh dear..

i don't have many stories about injuries that i can trade with you, but for some reason this reminds me of an incident i witnessed in germany once. (further warning for violence between animals)

i can't remember what the name of the place was, but it was the first monument i visited upon arrival (it was close to where i was staying and it seemed neat so i wanted to visit). it was this building with large statues at the pillars of it and a just as large fountain in the middle. it looked really nice, and i got to sit at the edge of the fountain to admire how pretty it all looked.

i also happened to sit next to two crows who were having a roman level fight with each other on the ledge of the fountain.

my first day in germany was the day i witnessed two crows duke it out on a water fountain, with the winning bird pushing the other into said fountain, holding it down in the water to ensure that it drowned, and then just flying off without a word.

...

i think i know why a flock of crows is called a murder now.

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

CKB (crookedkryptonitebeliever) DATING SIM

[ACTUALLY THIS SERVES MORE LIKE CHARACTER DESCRIPTIONS FOR MY OCS]

Tw: yandere, infantilization, , incest, noncon, sexual content, foot injury

So you got transmigrated into an otome game. Cool.

To your surprise, you're not the villain or villainess! But instead, the main character. That should be fun and easy, right? Main characters always get their happy endings with hot anime boys.

Right?

I'll let you be the judge of that.

This game is created by crookedkryptonitebeliever on Tumblr, if it helps.

The anime boys are not boys. Nor girls. Nor non binary, nor anime but a scarier firth thing. Da Creator's OCs.

We got,

2718 the aloof, magical Venusian cowboy who doesn't speak English, easiest way to get to his heart is through his stomach

Unnamed androgynous entity carrying an Abacus, the freak in the sheets and freak in the Venusian streets who also doesn't speak English, loves french kissing a little too much

Your unnamed big brother who would rather take care of you than do anything else. No, he doesn't give a shit that you're 18, 25, 52 or 75 or a millennia old, you are still baby to him. Now what would you like for dinner? Big brother will cook you up something yummy

Your unnamed best friend turned fiance then husband who seems the sanest of the bunch. I would personally go for this guy because he pays for all your bills and supports you, and gives you enough freedom and cooks good and he would-

Leveret, brunch lover and destroyer of bottomless mimosas, the least developed of the bunch, he's fuckin weird but rich though. Lovely elegant fingers, elegant posture and gait, nothing like a bunny despite popular belief. More like a snake

An unnamed hitman who only has the hots for you and eats your pussy like groceries, camps under your bed to spawn kill that kitty

Da Translator, she's not even a love interest nor does she have any interest in love. Da Creator just shoehorned her in to make communication between 2718 and Abacus easier. Faulty nanobots in her bloodstream and corrupt intergalactic governments strike again. She just wants to go home.

And many more that have yet to crawl out of the deepest crevices of my drafts and make their grandiose (or creepy) appearance.

In this series, or oneshot, or waffle, or whole nothing burger, everyone is slightly altered from canon to fit with the setting.

Let's begin.

You were just dropped here. Literally. From the fucking sky and you broke your fucking foot as a result.

You, a modern day salary person, or student, or surgeon, or sturgeon, or whatever with almost tangible question marks around your head, is clutching your pained foot. The last thing you remembered was sneakily sleeping on your job after giving up on your task at hand. You were rudely awakened by the ticklish feeling of your organs floating inside you, a rushing gust of wind against your face and ultimately a bone fracture.

Howling and sobbing from the excruciating pain, you caught the attention of more than enough citizens in the town square you were dropped in. Of course, a person manifesting from thin air and falling from the sky already had their interests piqued.

This sucks, you thought. Usually transmigrants wake up in bed, as someone else-in someone else's body, mild to severe confusion is to be expected. But generally, initially unharmed. You didn't expect to be flung down from the fucking sky with no plot armor.

Da creator argues that you do have some plot armor, you're still alive, aren't you? You would become a flattened reader patty by falling at that height if this was in real life.

Back to the plot at hand. You're suffering with a broken foot, everyone around you dress Amish, no tech in sight- still using oil lanterns to light up the place. They seem human enough for you to realize that they're frowning, gaping, gasping, murmuring and knitting their eyebrows in concern.

The more you look away from your horrifyingly twisted foot, the more you notice that... there is modern technology around! There are people wearing casual hawaiian shirts, baseball caps and a DSLR camera hung around their neck. Must be tourists from the city.

Now there are 7 ways this can go. Each path you choose will have... probably another 3 more ways. Then each will branch off again to another three more ways and so on. Da creator is not doing this game on Tumblr cause it will be a nightmare to masterlist and keep track.

I was planning to be like Degrees of Lewdity inspired, text based and using twine to do it but I know squat shit about coding. So this may probably be an empty promise, but I want to make like a visual novel out of it.

Maybe not... visual. I don't know how those talented VN artists do it, but I simply CANNOT draw all of that.

I'll probably start off strong and fall off the face of Earth doing this, my motivation is never consistent. So don't expect much, I'm just throwing this out here in case maybe in a couple months I decided to reread my crap and see this and go "hey why not" and pick it back up.

Then disappear for a couple weeks, abandon the project, reread my stuff, rinse and repeat. Keep in mind I haven't have a slightest idea how to code or any of its' jargons.

Anyways, you get to choose how to meet one of the 7 OCs.

You could either:

Have 2718 swoop in and save you from some bad guys, true to the first installment of Language Barrier. But he is not going to treat you like a mature, self critical adult, if that's what you were expecting. You're injured and he is not letting you do anything for yourself. But you find it strange that your pain is gone whenever he's touching you. You can see that he's upset over your injury, but he does whatever he can to soothe you. He's awfully quiet, don't you think?

Abacus guy comes in and act like a caretaker of yours, since you can't understand what most of them are saying due to your limited... unevolved biological hardware. And poor you, howling in pain with your ankle shattered like that, of course you're not going to notice that some of the tourists are speaking in English. Abacus guy is going to gently pick you up, coo at you and turn you into putty in their arms. They pressed their lips against the crook of your neck, suckling on a very sensitive spot. It feels good...

Oh no! His baby! Your big brother will sob, taking you into his strong arms, burying his face in your hair, muttering soft, sweet nothings to soothe you. Quickly but carefully, he zipped through the curious crowd and loaded you in his car, making sure you're comfortable with your favorite plushies and blankies. Are you thirsty? Big brother has some refreshing drinks he keep in his cooler. Hungry? There are packets of healthy snacks he neatly arranged in his car organizer. Big brother will open the packets for you if you ask, but please... please eat your painkillers first. It's going to be a long ride to the hospital and you're going to suffer. And that breaks his heart.

You noticed a shadow looming over you. You looked up to see the worried face of your beloved best friend, tears from his puffy eyes streaking down his sunken cheeks. There were dark bags under his eyes from the stress. Presumably from work and the worrying he endured while you're away. He scooped you up carefully and hastily placed you down on the stretcher prepared by the best medical team in the... galaxy? They placed a complicated looking helmet over your head before pressing a button on a metallic device. You heard muffled glass shatters after that. Each of the members held on tight to the stretcher, your best friend held onto you, hugging you tightly as he whimpers, rubbing your arm up and down. You don't know what happened, but you can't describe what you're seeing through the glass. It's like watching the world's most indescribable movie, it's not giving you any feelings of pain or fear or nausea.

Leveret is too green and unripe now, I can't exactly write for him until I write a part 2, will get back to this later

Same goes for our pussy devourer hitman, too incomplete, will get back to this later as well

You were momentarily distracted from your pain when you heard a scream looming in the distance... From above. It's getting louder and louder until you hear a devastating thud and crunch against the ground, silvery specks flew past your eyes. Accompanied by multiple gasps. Sobbing, groaning and cussing soon followed. You craned your neck to see a woman, dressed in office attire, howling loudly in pain. Looks like she shattered both legs and an arm. Strange metallic liquid ooze out of her wounds. The two of you remained on the ground, injured and exhausted while everyone else just stared. All the while, feeling that something big and bad is about to come.

When all of them have their names already, I'll change the fic accordingly. But for now, this is all I can provide. Lackluster in everything <3

Actually no, no choosing. The game chooses for you and it's all up to chance. Probably have an introduction where you get up on your own and girlboss your way out. But eventually have one of my OCs catch you.

Yeah I don't know where I'm going with this.

[ahiddenpath]

Life Update

Chatting about life beneath the cut.

TW: medical talk/mentions of cancer/mentions of animal injury

It's been so crazy lately, I'm not even sure where to start or how to capture everything. Ig I'll go for broad strokes?

Work

It's been so busy. Bit annoyed because I took over an important project for someone for two weeks while they were on vacation, and it's been a little intense. But it's been going well, so I'm glad for that. I am a little... Hm. No one has ever done my work while I'm away, lol! But mostly I like contributing and I like my teammates, so I'm just grousing.

Creating

I'm working on the next chapter of Infinite Possibilities for Odaiba Day. In it, Koushiro tells Eimi what happened during Tri, specifically so he can explain why the Chosen/Bureau relationship is where it is now (it's not in the best place). It turns out that condensing the events of six movies into a few thousand words is really hard, especially with all the different factions! So I MADE A CHART, I think you will love it, lol! That's where I am in my fanfiction career, chart making (she says, as if she hasn't already made several).

It's been going... Fine. Not great, not bad. I haven't had as much time/mental space lately.

Life

Holy crap man. A family member has cancer, and I don't want to get into details bc... You know, it's their situation, not mine. But they removed the cancerous organ, only to find that it spread to a non-removable organ. So... Well, they will learn their options before long. We are hoping for a non-chemo option.

My first reaction is wanting to do something myself, wanting to help or make it better. You certainly can help a person with cancer in terms of practical and emotional support, but you can't... You know... Medically help. I keep googling how to help and what to say and not to say to a cancer patient. That's so human, you know? How do I help? Tell me how to help. It's sweet. Humans are sweet.

I'm feeling a lot of feelings, and I can't imagine how my family member feels.

It's jarring to talk about my own little stuff after something so much worse, but...

My energy has been just awful lately. I've been dragging my butt through life for what feels like... Idk, three months or so? I just haven't been feeling well, although I'm not, like, sick. I'm not sure what to do, if I'm honest. Very recently, we have been trying to eat better, and I did a not successful exercise today, lmao! I just hope I can physically perk up.

I had a small emergency last week. I was trying to groom a clump out of my (absurdly beloved) cat's fur, and I cut his skin. I can't even describe it- the skin just, like, unzipped in front of my eyes. I basically just froze and shut down, my husband called vets. We lost a lot of local vets over the pandemic, and the local ER was closed for renovation that day, so it was nerve wracking, but we got him seen. Meanwhile, I had a hugely busy workday- I had to keep that important project going. But we went to the ER and they said it only needed staples, not suturing. I feel so guilty. The vet said that she's done it herself to a dog, you try to help them and they wiggle, it's common. Luckily, Darcy isn't scared of me and acts the same (in fact, he's sitting with me now). It's healing nicely and we will remove the staples later this week or next week. The vet said Darcy was a good boy, and the only problem was that he purred too loud for them to hear his heartrate. I worked pretty late that day.

There's been a lot of stuff at that level (sort of like... a mild emergency) going on lately. I don't have the wherewithal to list everything, but that's how life has been lately.

That's all for now, I hope you are healthy and doing well. Love you, big hug!

[lveclouds]

↬ pairing/characters: spy wonwoo x reader, other members may be mentioned

↬ genre/aus: heavy angst, zero to no fluff (im so sorry, this fic is essentially 100% angst), non idol au, spy au 

↬ summary: in which you remember the spy that loved you and how he broke your heart.  

↬ rating(s): m,18+ (see warnings) 

↬ tw: heavy swearing, sad ending (yep this one’s a sad one folks), mentions of injuries (brief), mild violence (mainly mentions, nothing graphic), wonwoo’s a sweetheart and also self-sacrificing:((, reader needs a huge hug, mild violence (mentions only, no actual scenes depicted), brief mentions of nightmares (brief)

↬ wc: 2.2k 

↬ note: this fic was yet another one that came out of nowhere <3 i have zero self control lmao anyways the title of this fic comes from the song ‘moments’ by one direction, and this fic is also loosely based off the song as well <3 this fic WILL hurt, so i apologize in advance for the emotional damage i will cause (im sending all of you the biggest hugs) and yes i listened to an angsty playlist while writing this oops i have zero regrets  

tears stung your eyes as you lay curled up in a ball on your bed, clutching a worn stuffed animal to your chest. the bear had been gifted to you by your mother when you were seven, and you'd never had the heart to give it away. 

it was times like these, when your heart felt that it would shatter into a million fragments, that you were grateful for the stuffed bear's presence. 

your body shook with sobs as images of wonwoo's gorgeous smile flashed across your mind. the memory of his gentle touches and kisses were burned into your skin like a brand. 

and if you closed your eyes, you could still see him standing in your small kitchen, raven hair mussed, sweatpants low on his hips, humming softly to himself as he made breakfast, see the utter fondness and adoration in his eyes whenever he looked at you, cleaving your heart in two, never to be fixed or made whole again. 

loving wonwoo was as easy as breathing, and you had bared yourself to him, heart and soul. he was gentle, kind, and loved with all his heart. wonwoo wasn't an overly affectionate person, but he showed his love in other ways: through quality time and acts of service. 

he would always sit next to you on the spacious living room couch, nose buried in a thick paperback, glasses sliding down his nose, while you watched your favorite drama, happily munching on snacks. 

wonwoo wouldn't say anything, and yet, those were the times with him that you had treasured the most. sometimes, the nights would end with you falling asleep on his shoulder, and the warmth and solidness of him was enough. 

it was enough to convince you that wonwoo would forever be a permanent presence in your life. hot tears scalded your cheeks, blurring your vision, and you let out a helpless whimper, clutching your teddy bear closer to your chest. the day he left still lingered in your mind, for it'd been the day that your entire world collapsed. wonwoo hadn't yelled, hadn't screamed at you, hadn't lashed out like you'd expected him to.

instead, he had given you a sad, teary-eyed smile, strong arms wrapping themselves around you, holding you flush against him, as if he were reluctant to let go. you had sobbed into his shirt, curling your fingers in the soft fabric, the woodsy scent of his cologne hitting your nose, comforting and familiar.

"i'm sorry, love, i wish it didn't have to be this way, and leaving you, leaving all the memories we made, is the hardest fucking thing i've ever had to do, and one day, i hope you will forgive me for hurting you. i will never be able to live with myself knowing that i did, and i won't blame you if you come to resent me one day. i would."

"thank you for loving me. thank you for loving all of me, the good, the bad, the ugly, and for loving me even with all the blood on my hands, despite all the danger i put you in. the danger that you are put in because you’re with someone like me.” and, after giving you one last kiss, dizzying and enough to make you weak in the knees, he left, taking your heart with him.

you knew wonwoo’s job wasn’t exactly ordinary, as he’d often come home at ungodly hours at night, bone-tired and with the occasional cut or bruise marring his perfect skin, and you hated those nights when you’d had to patch him up, for the sight of him in pain was too much to bear. 

wonwoo would sometimes be gone for days, even weeks at a time, unable to be contacted, and you would cry yourself to sleep every night, hoping and praying that he would come back to you, safe and sound.  

you’d always felt safe with wonwoo. despite the ruthlessness and mercilessness he showed when dealing with the men that were always chasing after him, it was a great contrast from the gentle touches and kisses you received. wonwoo had never hurt you, had always treated you like fine china, and that to you had been enough.  

it hadn’t mattered that scary looking men hunted him down every night, and wonwoo had had to close your eyes everytime he was about to defend himself and you, telling you to close your eyes. close your eyes love, i don’t want you to see this ugly, dark side of me, was what he always said. 

wonwoo was a mystery, and though you had managed to get past his seemingly iron clad defenses, there were still things he kept from you. he never talked about his job, nor why he disappeared for a few weeks and came back. 

when you had mustered up enough courage to ask him, wonwoo’s entire body grew tense, and you could see the fear dancing in his gorgeous light blue eyes. “do you not trust me?” you had asked, heart breaking at the thought that wonwoo didn’t trust you. devastation had flashed across his face. “of course i trust you, more than anyone in this world.” “then why? why won’t you tell me why you disappear without warning and then come back weeks or even months later? why? are you seeing someone else?” 

at that, wonwoo’s jaw flexed, just slightly. “no, of course not, it’s always been you for me, no one else. i can’t tell you why i’m away for weeks and months, it’ll put us in danger if i do. especially you. but promise me love, that you will trust me? i’m trying to find a way out, a way out of this cursed life i was led to live. will you wait for me?” “yes, i’d wait a hundred years for you.” 

the tears came faster now, streaming down your face like a waterfall, as you remembered how wonwoo had taken you into his arms afterwards, holding you close and whispering sweet nothings into your ear, rubbing comforting circles on your back. you hated the people that had forced wonwoo to take up a career he didn’t want, and for taking away the one man you had ever loved.  

”i won’t blame you if you come to resent me one day. i would.” you let out a choked sob, for you could never resent wonwoo for leaving you, even if it felt as if your heart had been ripped out of your chest. it’d been nearly two years since wonwoo had left, and that had been the last time you’d heard from him.  

you’d found out what wonwoo was so hell bent on keeping from you on a rainy day, of all days, and he had been gone for three weeks. the curiosity and urge to know what wonwoo was hiding was overwhelming, and you’d decided to look through the office he’d had installed some summers ago.  

after a few hours, your search had proven to be fruitless, and you’d been about to give up when you stumbled upon a worn cardboard box hidden in the closet. with shaking hands, you’d lifted the lid of the box and felt your heart drop into your stomach.

  inside was a dozen or so fake ids, passports, and a plethora of classified documents that you didn’t have the courage to go through. you’d sat on the floor in a daze afterwards, mind whirring with a million thoughts, and you weren’t sure if you wanted to laugh or cry at the absurdity of the situation. wonwoo, the selfless and beautiful man you had fallen in love with, was a fucking spy.  

said male had arrived home days later, and you had mustered up the courage to confront him about the box he’d hidden in the closet, hot tears streaming staining your cheeks. “am i part of your mission? did the agency want you to pretend to fall in love with me so you could get information? do you even really love me? or has our entire relationship been one complete lie?” 

you’d lamented, and the look of absolute horror and devastation that had flashed across wonwoo’s face was enough to feel a pang of guilt shoot through you.  

“no, never. while falling in love with you was something i never planned or expected, it’s the best thing that has ever happened to me, and i will never regret it, not even if my life is on the line."  you had crumpled to the ground, knees giving out as you collapsed to the floor. wonwoo had immediately rushed over to you, pulling you into his arms and holding you as you sobbed into his chest. 

after that, wonwoo began to be more honest with you about his job, telling you that the reason he was away for weeks or even months at a time was because of missions that his boss had demanded him go on. you were grateful that he trusted you not to tell anyone about his job, but you couldn’t help but feel paranoid. paranoid that something terrible was going to happen to you, or god forbid, wonwoo.

and because your intuition was too sharp, you had begun to notice cars tailing you and wonwoo, particularly after dinners and outings with his friends, hoshi, woozi, dokyeom, mingyu, scoups, vernon, joshua, jeonghan, minghao, jun, and seungkwan. then, one night, wonwoo had told you to close your eyes, albeit softly. 

“close your eyes, love,” he’d say, “and don’t open them until i say so.” you’d do as wonwoo would say, not daring to open your eyes until he deemed it safe. you faintly remembered the loud boom of a gun, and the loud screech of tires as wonwoo drove like a madman. there were nights where you were too scared to go out, for the fear of being followed or hunted down was overwhelming. 

wonwoo had one of his friends, jeonghan, who was an expert in cyber security, install a special security system in your home, and for mingyu and minghao to watch over you while he was away on missions. 

you were glad for the aforementioned males’ presence, as they were gentle and kind and always made sure you were okay. there were nights where you would wake up sobbing, due to terrible nightmares, and mingyu or minghao, who were sleeping in the guest rooms down the hall, would come rushing in and pull you into a comforting hug, rubbing soothing circles on your back. 

the relief that would course through you whenever wonwoo would come home, unscathed from a mission, was overwhelming. there were many nights spent where he would just hold you, and you would breathe in his comforting woodsy scent, basking in the warmth and familiarity of him. 

the day that he told you that his agency was relocating was the worst day of your life. you had begged him not to go, to stay and give up his dangerous career, but wonwoo had smiled sadly, taking you into his arms for the last time, pressing a soft kiss on your forehead. “i wish things were that simple, and i would give up my career for you in a heartbeat, but unfortunately, i can’t just up and leave, even if i wanted to.” 

it hurt, everything hurt, and the last words that wonwoo had ever said to you still lingered in your mind. “promise me, love, that if our paths never cross again, if i am not able to come back to you, that you will find the strength to be happy. i won’t be able to live with myself if you aren’t happy and being loved and cherished by someone, even if it’s not me.” 

hot tears scalded your cheeks as you sobbed, heart cracking and chest heaving with uneven breaths. i’m sorry, my love, but i don’t i will ever be able to move on. you were the greatest joy in my life, and now that you’ve left me, i have nothing left. i will never be able to love someone as deeply as i did you.  

a/n: i’m so sorry y’all :(( i promise my next fic won’t be as depressing slkdljkjfdj anyways i hope you all enjoyed this sad fic, i honestly nearly cried writing this. i am sending you all the biggest hugs, and know that you are important and loved <3 

tagging: @sketchguk​ , @playmetheclassics​, @skyjoong​ , @adulttoast​, @taeyo95​ , @seokmins​ @shuashong​ , @joonminshua ​+ anyone else who wants to read this :)

[cassieuncaged]

Wild Inhibitions - Chapter 3

Chapter 2

Astarion Ancunín x Ilwyn Crowdancer

Summary: She was young, still learning to control her wild magic when Ilwyn was abducted by the mind flayers. Little did she know that revenge for her mother's death was imminent as well as an ill timed infatuation with a vampire.

TW: nightmarish imagery, recovering from an injury, mild blood, cambion contracts, damning innocents for the hell of it (pun intended), sexual tension, insults, hiding vulnerabilities, Astarion being a dick (shocker), past trauma, language, etc.

WC: 3.1 K

A/N: forgive me for the choppiness. I'm slowing working to regain my writing flow. Also would like to point out that I knew nothing about Elven life spans when originally deciding on Ilwyn's age. I've done a little research and she's still an adult...but she's also still learning everything which is an aspect I like about her. Her past trauma is still pretty fresh and she has no idea what she's doing. Which is fun where the wild magic will get involved.

Taglist: @confidentandgood, @galaxycunt, @euryalex, @inafieldofdaisies, @neonneurons, @roofgeese, @spacestephh

Pale eyes ripple like moonstones, peering into a punctured soul. Those black lips crack open with malice, delighted as red sinews tear apart like wet parchment. The point of a gnarled dagger makes another jagged divot into a bloody canvas.

A scream rips through a dry throat, hoarse and painful like that of a dying animal. Weak arms pull against rusting chains, metal biting into tender wrists as she continues to struggle. Legs wobble, toes barely touching the blood slicked ground as the blade tears through her side. Another tally marks soft skin as the sorceress dangles.

“Sweet red drips from you like the most delectable of wine,” Orin waxes poetically, allowing her weapon to dig into the small of a freckled back as she circles her prey. Ilwyn hisses when the knife drags against the curve of her spine, digging deep enough to scar. “How I wish to lap at it like a kitten to cream..”

The changeling mocks, playing with her like a cat does a mouse.

Orin the Red. A monster born of monsters.

Ilwyn has no defense, being left to die alone like a slaughtered lamb in the maw of a deranged lion. She’s been laid bare, robes shredded and bloody in the corner. The changeling of her nightmares now holds her captive, death lurking closer with every slice.

“What will you do to me?” she whimpers, no longer attempting to retain a steely demeanor. Suddenly, strength is not a viable option as the bloody vixen pulls a limp body forward.

“I’m going to bleed you dry,” she hums, delicately rubbing blood into a supple thigh before harshly slapping sensitive skin. “Then I’ll let your blood flow across Toril like a river, painting the whole planet red.”

Pale eyes widened hungrily, wanting to be sated by wet carrion, bloody and fresh for her to devour. An opalescent finger slid down the scar embedded in a soft cheek, tapering off into freckled skin.

It was then that Orin leaned forward, pressing a kiss to breathless lips before her blade caressed a rosy neck, slicing deeply as blue eyes became sightless.

……

Bolting upright, Ilwyn pants as she scans her meager tent. Shadowheart knelt dutifully beside a pile of blankets, concentrating on a healing spell as the laceration slowly mended. The sensation was odd, feeling as though her body was stitching itself back together internally.

“What happened?” One finger runs across the tear sliced into the fabric of a simple tunic, dark with blood that blossomed from her wound.

“You don’t remember?” Chains jangle in a long braid when the cleric cocks her head. Patches of purple decorate the pits beneath sunken eyes, mossy green glimmering with exhaustion. “Suppose that’s for the best. That brawler jammed his blade into your side. Had to force a healing potion down your throat to keep you from fading completely.”

“Who carried me? Astarion?” this earns a bemused snort as Shadowheart shifts on her haunches. 

“He could hardly lift an imp.” A small hand pushed at one shoulder until Ilwyn slowly laid back with a hiss, “Unfortunately for us, Karlach would’ve incinerated you, so he and I made do.”

“I should thank him…” the elf squirmed against her bedroll, guts twitching under the strain of the restoration invocation. A shallow breath escapes mauve lips as pearlescent teeth grit. Lingering tenderness begins to evaporate as Shadowheart’s brows furrow in concentration.

“Focus on recovering first.” Her words are clipped and demanding, regardless of how soft her voice was, “You’ll need your strength. Especially if we’re to destroy these goblins from the inside out. Shar be with us.”

“I think we can handle it.” Ilwyn allows her body to limply sink into her cot, ignoring the damp smear of blood against her torso. Her tunic is practically half shredded from a serrated blade.

“Awfully brave after being almost gutted by a loathsome little monster.” The corner of pale lips quirk, almost a smile as the cleric keeps one hand hovering above the open wound. Ilwyn tries not to think of the skin meshing itself back together.

“I let my guard down.” Speaking hurts, belly twitching with every breath.

“Bickering with that vampire almost got you killed.” She snaps back, annoyed with the entire situation. “Hells knows where we even are, we can’t afford to lose anyone. We have power in numbers if nothing else.”

“It won’t happen again,” the young elf hisses, a blush rising up freckled cheeks. Shadowheart softens the littlest bit, nose wrinkling at the surge of emotion bubbling up her throat, something Shar had forbade her.

Feeling.

“Good,” in an instant, she’s thrusting herself up onto booted feet, chainmail clanking as she does. “I’d hate for our adventure to be cut short. Especially before we even get these damned worms out of our skulls.”

Crouching down, the canvas flap is flipped open for a moment. Golden light pours in for an instant as the sun prepares to set. She can vaguely hear the others scurrying about, pots clanging in a tinny cacophony as dinner is prepared.

Likely stew. Especially after finding endless sacks of potatoes, it’s the easiest meal for them to prepare. Besides, it’s almost worth the mundane selection just to watch Karlach lap at the soup hungrily before allowing Scratch to lick the bowl clean.

Ilwyn grins at the thought, the first time she’s felt truly safe since the Nautiloid’s graceless crash. For an instant, blue eyes flicker close as she begins to trance.

Then a black smile cracks through the darkness, greeting her subconscious with fiendish vigor.

……

The Tiefling keeps watch with Wyll, telling jokes and sharing stories as darkness is hoisted upon them.

“How’d they nab you?” she asks, longing to press a palm comforting to a broad back. Karlach misses touching and being touched more than anything. “I mean, where’d they get you? When you were in Avernus hunting me?”

“Gods, I can’t remember.” He sighs, taking a sip of foamy mead. “It was such a blur. First I was scrabbling through the lines of the blood war and then…”

Suddenly the ground begins to shake, garnering the duo’s attention. Between the tents, the ground begins to split. A spirally slick of liquid begins to bubble upwards, garnering the attention of the rest of the camp before a blue skinned devil is birthed from the hells themselves from a mouth of flames. Shadowheart thumbs the handle of her mace as a disoriented Ilwyn rushes from the mouth of her tent. Rolling his eyes with anguish, Astarion sidles up beside the dense elf, prepared to strike if she’s attacked.

“Wyll, you naughty boy!” The creature’s voice sounds out through the blackness of night as a temptress is revealed to them. Periwinkle skin gleams in the firelight as the devil strides confidently towards the talented swordsman. “You know what happens when you’ve been naughty!”

“Just who in the nine hells are you?” Ilwyn pipes up weakly, earning the ire of the rest of the camp. For an instant, cool fingers brush against her own, before being retracted completely. The cambion tuts, leathery wings twitching as she assesses the plethora of potential prey. Scratch growls, hackles raised.

“You’ve never spoken about me?” the creature speaks again, feigning hurt as flaming eyes assess Wyll. “I’m shocked. Well, time to let the hellcat out of the bag. Call me…Mizora. I’m Wyll’s patron. And my pet has been rather unruly. And his leash needs a yank.”

Long, taloned fingers pull gracefully at the air as the warlock is pulled to his knees by seamlessly nothing.

“We had a deal,” she chides sharply, “But Karlach’s still breathing.”

“I’ve taken more pleasant shits than you, Mizora.” Karlach booms with no small amount of menace, “And at least I can bury those after.”

The repartee continues between the three as the others attempt to follow along. Wyll can barely choke out his words before the cambion is reciting a clause from a contract that no one completely understands. Ilwyn attempts to lunge forward, to push herself between the two to save the man.

It’s then that Astarion finally clamps an icy palm against a feeble wrist. Yanking her backwards, she grimaces, ready to begin a new argument when blue eyes grow wide, watching as horns sprout from the young man’s head.

There’s little to be done as the Blade of Frontiers is now a devil among men.

……

His nightly hunt is uneventful, a rather fat rabbit drained and left in a clearing of the forest. Astarion ambles to where the river winds through the thicket of fir trees, twigs crunching beneath the heel of fanciful boots.

It’s then that he sees her, wringing out a cloth tunic on the embankment. Likely scrubbing the garment in an attempt to remove the blood that soaked through from a gnarly wound. He’d never admit it, but it is refreshing to see her moving around so easily. Leaning against the trunk of a nearby tree, he watches for a moment. She wears a woven leather corset, displaying herself in a way that surprises him. Rather revealing for the shy little elf. But then again, who is he to complain?

“My, my,” he appears from the shadows, enjoying the little hitch in her breathing as she jumps, “What is a little treat doing out by themselves at this hour?”

“Trying to enjoy a little quiet,” she mutters, annoyed by his sudden appearance. “Especially after that rather eventful evening with Mizora.”

“How interesting it’ll be to have a devil galivanting with us,” he holds his hands out, examining nicely manicured nails, “Lucky for him, he’s still rather handsome with those horns.”

“Wyll has his soul bound to a devil and all you think about is how handsome he is? Rather callous of you, though I can’t say I’m shocked.”

“Ah, and here I was this afternoon thinking you’d have no sparkling banter for me, considering your condition.” His fangs glint with menace before his head cocks to one side. “How’re you feeling?”

“Why would you care?” she huffs, holding the tunic up in the moonlight, assessing its current state. “Don’t tell me you’d miss the incessant bickering?”

“As endearing as that is,” he pauses, wondering how to continue. He knows he needs her at his side but also fears revealing his own vulnerabilities. “I’ve grown rather fond of you, in our short time together.”

“Have you?”

Had he?

Hells, her naivete and misplaced compassion were downright insufferable.

“In a sense.” He meanders closer, arms latched at the small of a lean back. It isn’t until now that the vampire notices how small Ilwyn is, squirming beneath a long shadow. Orange sparks gleam at the tips of pale fingers as she considers singing those luscious curls clean off. “How can I not when you allow me to feed on a near nightly basis?”

“You’re rather impressive in battle after drinking from me.” She shrugs, ignoring the incessant rattling of her heart. “It’s a perk that serves us all.”

“Aren’t you just adorable when you’re absolutely flustered?” one large hand threads languidly through hair that looks like spun silk in the moon light. Her mouth drops open before latching itself close once more. His affliction offers a span of preternatural abilities; she knows he can hear how her heart slams into spindly ribs, how he can practically taste the blood that flows into ripened cheeks…

“I am flustered.” She admits, returning to the only tunic she had, bloody stain faded to a messy copper. “This is absolutely ruined.”

“What’s so special about a boring tunic?” ruby eyes glimmer like wet stones in the lowlight, “I rather like this new number.”

“There’s still a nip in the air from winter,” she argues, ignoring the shiver that runs up the length of her spine. “Now isn’t exactly a time fall under the weather.”

“Why not sew the damned thing back together?” he lounges on a boulder, gaze lingering on the ample amount of skin revealed from her corset. A part of him longs to reach out, to see if she feels as soft as she looks. Another part of him shrieks, frightened of the intimacy that could potentially linger. “You seem capable enough.”

“I’m not very useful with a sewing needle.” She admits bashfully, nervous to add to her ever-growing list of shortcomings. It seems that out of the merry band assembled, she’s a liability.

“Maybe I can help.” His offer surprises them both as Astarion reconsiders the thought. Why not just humiliate her? Make her scrabble about in the woven corset like the little tart she is?

Because I’m not a monster.

The thought feels intrusive as his brows furrow in a silent ponderance. Ilwyn basks in the moment of insecurity, one she knows well. For a moment, they feel a similarity bubble up their throats as he carefully approaches. The garment is carefully slid from shaking fingers when the vampling assesses the tear.

“It’s rather deep but not past the point of mending,” he admits. “Let me help you.”

“Why?” a ruddy brow arches instinctively, waiting for a cruel retort. But there is none, his icy exterior having melted for a moment.

Why?

The word echoes in his brain, an air of confusion threatening to unravel his thoughts. Why should he help her? There was never anyone to come to his aid, even he needed it most…

“Would you like my help or not?” he huffs, suddenly sullen as long arms fold across his chest. A head of copper waves nods, craving any act of kindness to be gifted unto her.

……

It’s the first time she’s been in the striped canvas tent, enjoying how eclectic and cozy it is. He wears a gold monocle, face stern as long fingers expertly mend the garment. It’s quiet, the only sound the crackle of the candles and the tinny tap of the needle against a thimble. Astarion allows himself a quick peak of perky bosoms stuffed into a leather corset. He almost wishes to shred the tunic even more, to force her to parade around in the other garment.

“Most women know how to sew…” he adds, attempting to make small talk yet failing miserably. Ilwyn shrugs, kneeling dutifully across from where he’s lounging.

“There’s never been time,” this earns a haughty chuckle.

“You’re telling me a century has passed and you’ve never picked up a needle before?”

“A century? How long do you think I’ve been galivanting around Toril?”

“We elven breeds live nearly a millennium,” he swallows hard, reminded by the fact that he never even saw his fortieth birthday. “How old are you?”

“I’m twenty-five,” she admits shyly, wincing as red eyes expand to the size of saucers. The needle pierces the bed of his forefinger before being cast aside in frustration. He can’t remember a time he’s met an elf so young, besides himself.

“Shit,” he sucks his finger between his lips as she watches, “Twenty-five? You’re practically a babe. How in the hells does someone so young get pulled into a situation like this?”

“How in the hells does a vampire?” she spits back, rather annoyed by whatever he’s insinuating. “It’s not like I exactly planned on getting abducted.”

“Excuse me,” he swallows back any lingering disdain, wondering why it bubbled up his throat to begin with. “I’ve never met an elf so young before. Not since…”

He winces at the memory of his demise, the Gur that had cornered him, practically gutted him, left him to bleed out in the gutters. Thirty-nine; practically a babe himself, life only beginning to unfold. Hopeful and excitable in his own way, not unlike the woman knelt across from him. Maybe they had more in common than either thought.

“Are you alright?” a warm hand reaches out, gently resting on the curve of one wrist. Astarion practically winces at the touch, pulling his arm away as though she’s brought a flame to his skin.

“Yes.” He practically snaps, scrambling to retrieve the discarded needle to finish his work and be rid of her for the evening. “Lost in my thoughts.”

“Oh,” Ilwyn folds her hands in her lap, head hanging down as she attempts to ignore the strange feeling of rejection. After all, she was only trying to comfort him. Yet that had been so blatantly refused, almost as if the touch of her was repulsive. “I lose myself in my thoughts many times a night. Back at the sanctum I-”

“You silly little girl,” his words are icy, unfeeling as his gaze remains plastered to the blouse between his fingers. “It’s rather insulting to think that you and I have anything in common.”

“Excuse me?” hurt pulses beneath her skin, overshadowed by the vitriol coursing through her veins. Rage radiates from within her chest, spreading to the rest of her body in a matter of seconds. When he refuses to respond, she yanks the garment from between his fingers, balling it in one hand as he eyes her with contempt.

“Are you that daft?” he snorts, hardly believing the childish display as she clutches the tunic to her chest. “That stitch wasn’t finished. It’ll tear right open again.”

“I don’t need your charity,” she spits before practically careening out of the tent, practically colliding with the ground in a less than graceful motion. Tears well in bleary eyes as an irritated voice echoes behind her.

Ilwyn clutches at the ball of fabric, unshed tears threatening to fall. For only in an instant, she thought she’d won him over.

……

Astarion immediately misses her warmth, supernatural hearing catching the rabid beat of her heart. Not unlike that of the rabbit he’d drained earlier. He winces at the thought of snapping at her so carelessly, driving her away even further.

Ilwyn is the stability he’s craved, a companion that can be trusted, the one that can protect him.

But it doesn’t matter. They can’t get close. He can’t relate to her, confide in her, or even pity her. It’s all too dangerously linked to caring.

And caring about the young elf will doom them both.

[tbb-appreciation-week]

TAGS ARE YOUR BEST FRIENDS

(Updated: June 2024)

Hello there!

In the pursuit of giving the participants tools for tagging their works correctly, thus allowing everyone else to curate their experience, I’ve put a non-comprehensive list of tags together that should be used if they apply to your work, during the event (and afterward, if you want).

There are gazillion other things that could be tagged too, but let’s be honest, it’s impossible to tag warnings for every single squick or trigger of every person in the world. So, I collected a list of the most common ones below. Like I said, this barely scratches the surface. It’s just a small guide for themes and things that you should warn about. If there’s anything else you think it needs tagging in your work, do it, please!

As the title says, tags are the best friends of both writers and readers. Use them to warn and/or block the content you write/read. Not only that! They also serve to finding the content you want to consume! You got the power. Use it!

I classify the tags into broad themes or issues, and then give some examples of specific tags within each theme. Those are just a few examples, not a complete list. Use your judgment to add others if your work requires them.

#️⃣ Explicit Language - For stories with excessive use of curse words

Curse words, foul language, profanity, etc.

#️⃣ Sexual Content - For fics where sexual content is explored and described in detail.

NSFW, Smut, kinks (specify which ones), mild/explicit depiction of sex, etc.

#️⃣ Underage: This is NOT for hand holding and sweet pecks on the cheek. It's for detailed depictions of sexual activity by characters under the age of eighteen.

#️⃣ Mental Health Issues: If your work depicts or implies/mentions the characters' mental/emotional struggles.

Paranoia-Inducing, Intrusive Thoughts, Medication, PTSD, Eating Disorder, suicide ideation, self harm, trauma, etc.

#️⃣ Violence: For stories that contain all kinds of violence.

Graphic Depiction of Violence, (implied/referenced, psychological) torture, gore, (mention of) weapons, (gun, domestic, canon-typical) violence, murder, etc.

#️⃣ Whump: For works that rely heavily on the hurt, and might or might not have comfort, especially when it's physical. Almost always, it goes hand in hand with violence and/or abuse.

Whump, injuries, blood, CPR, darkfic, sick fic, brainwashing, kidnapping, broken bones, etc.

#️⃣ Abuse: For works that mention, imply, and/or depict acts of abuse.

Domestic, physical, psychological, gaslighting, emotional, verbal.

#️⃣ Substances use: For when there's use or abuse of legal or illegal substances.

Mention of drugs/alcohol, recreational drug use, drug/alcohol addition, overdose, etc.

#️⃣ Death: For when the dead of a character is part of your work.

Mention of death, Main character death, side/background character death, Child Death, (implied, notes of) Suicide, Graphic Death, Animal Death, etc.

#️⃣ Type of relationship: Let your readers know what kind of relationship is explored in your work.

Platonic, romantic, x reader, clone shipping, father-daughter relationship, sibling rivalry, friendship, etc.

And the list goes on and on and on…

Now that you have some idea of what to warn about, let me remind you how you should tag your work. Be sure to @ this blog and add the following hashtags:

#tbbaw2024

#the theme of the day and/or #prompt(s) used

#medium (gifset, fic, podcast, fanart, etc.)

#trigger warnings, if applies. (see list above)

#prompt(s) used

#nsfw (only for NSFW content)

#any other relevant tags go here

More recommendations:

Please, don’t, I repeat, DO NOT put “tw” if front or at the end of your warning tag. Why, you ask? Because using just the word or phrase is much simpler for readers to block the thing. It’s because of the way the blocking feature works on Tumblr that blocks only the exact wording and not all the tags containing X or Y or Z word (it sucks, I know. I agree!). Let’s use PTSD as an example. I’ve seen #ptsd, #tw ptsd, #ptsd tw, #tw; ptsd, #tw:ptsd and more. So, you see the problem, right? Instead of just PTSD as a tag, people need to block every iteration of the tag that other people come up with, and that happens with every other single tag. Let keep it simple. That will be easier for everyone.

Tumblr veterans know this, but you should neither censor your tags, replacing letters with numbers or symbols. That takes out the very function of the tag, which is mainly to allow people to avoid topics they don’t like for whatever reason. Nothing of su¡cid3 or unalive, please! This is not TikTok or Insta; here on Tumblr, we tag using the actual words like human beings that we are.

Use Keep Reading break to hide NSFW, violence, substance use and/or dark themes, and tag it properly.

For any piece where the creator pairs the reader with a canon character, please use the tag #x reader alone, without canon characters or modifier for the reader. If you want to include also the specific tag of the character x reader, you can add it. That’s fine. An alternative is specifying what kind of reader is in the post text. Because since the combinations of canon characters and several types of reader is virtually endless, it’s easier for anyone who don’t enjoy reading fics in second-person POV to filter out these fics if writers use a wide-spectrum, nonspecific tag for it. It’s the same problem as with the warning tags.

Likewise, writers who do a piece pairing clones romantically, please tag your work as #clone shipping, so people can block the tag if those works aren't their cup of tea for whatever reason.

Gifmakers, if applies, please tag your gifsets #flashing gif or #flashing lights to warn photosensitive folks about it.

Use #dead dove do not eat for when you go hardcore, very dark, and/or graphic in the themes of your work AND also have tagged everything you're presenting in it, to indicate simply that this fic is clearly labelled and fully warned for, so if you open it, you know what you are getting into. If you heed the tags, then there will be no surprises.

I understand why some writers are wary of tagging some things, fearing spoiling the story among other reasons, but it's better sinning of over tagging than missing a delicate issue that could disturb a large portion of your audience.

But if you're still insisting of not tagging some things, please use Choose Not To Use Archive Warnings if you add your work to the collection on Ao3. As it says on the site's warning help (x): "Use this if you don't want to warn for anything. You may also choose this option if you don't know what you should warn for; if you don't like warning for certain topics or warnings in general; if you want to avoid some spoilers, but not others; etc.". It's a wordy way to say to your readers: "Read at your own risk because there could be unpleasant surprises".

Also, you can add the tag TBBAW2024 while posting on the Ao3 Collection, if you want. This is optional, not mandatory.

And last, but not least, readers, please curate your own experience. Be sure to block the tags AND post content for the things you find disturbing or could trigger you. Take control of what you interact with.

Two more suggestions, even if they're not exactly tagging related: The first one, let’s make art more accessible to disabled folks, so it’d be nice that fan artists (including artists, gifmakers and graphic manipulators) included image descriptions to their works. You can add those both on the web and the app. Just click on the 3 dots that appear in the bottom right corner once you have uploaded your image/gif, then click on Update image description (on the web) or Add Alt text (on the app), and write your description. Also, there's the option to put it directly in the body of your post.

The second one is also using Keep Reading break to shorten the length of your post if it's too long. It's annoying having to scroll down what feels like forever when you're not interested in said post. Also, you can add the tag #long post, if you want.

This turned out to be longer than I expected, so I'll leave it here. If you got suggestions or questions, please contact me through the ask box or chat, either in this blog or on @nimata-beroya.

And remember: tags, tags, TAGS!!!

[cj-writes-things]

Love over Law chapter 7

tw: animal death, injury, trauma, parental neglect, grief, mild gore

(note that this is a chapter specific trigger warning and not just a series/general trigger warning. Proceed with caution, especially if you have recently lost a loved one)

~~~

Chapter 1 • Chapter 6

Wolfpaw wandered back to the log pile, a robin dangling from her jaws. A question lingered in her mind, but she shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts.

She wasn't sure why it mattered to her where her mother had wandered off to, but she didn't want to care.

It's not like she ever gives a second thought to what I'm doing.

She reached the den, hoping for a peaceful meal with her friends, but instead found a sight that shook her to her core.

Claypaw and Splinterpaw were lying outside the logpile, a battered brown rabbit just beyond their stretched claws.

The small creature's limbs were twisted unnaturally, its head barely connected to its body. It was covered in blood and dust. From the looks of it, the poor thing had had quite a struggle before it finally left this world.

Wolfpaw stood frozen, her gaze locked on the rabbit. Her voice came out softly, flatly, as if void of emotion.

"What happened here?"

Claypaw glanced up at her, narrowing his amber eyes in confusion.

"Wolfpaw, what's wrong? You look possessed or something."

Her eyes never left the mutilated animal as she asked again, her tone suddenly sharpening, "What happened to the rabbit?"

"I, uh, had some trouble catching it," Splinterpaw explained warily. "Kept getting away. What's the big deal?"

"Liar," Claypaw protested. "You were using it as a practice dummy."

"Yeah, after I had some trouble catching it. So?" He turned his attention back to Wolfpaw. "Uh, you good?"

The black-and-white she-cat was shaking, her eyes closed tightly. When she opened them, she was staring Splinterpaw down, a dangerous look on her face.

"You idiot!" she spat, raking her claws through the dirt. Her peers' eyes went wide, shocked by the angry outburst.

The young apprentice took a deep breath and spoke in a quiet, furious hiss: "You'd better be glad that wasn't for the queens. They would have refused it. Nobody wants a ruined rabbit."

With that, she brusquely turned away and stormed across the clearing to sit by herself in the shade of the cliff, furious.

Wolfpaw had long ago dropped her robin; she wasn't hungry anymore. The sight of the ravaged prey had hit a nerve in the young she-cat, had killed her appetite.

Had it been any other animal, it might not have gotten to her as much, but it just had to be a rabbit.

There was a reason she hadn't pursued one earlier that day while hunting with Duskstar. She couldn't bring herself to hunt or even eat rabbits, ever since... the incident. She lay her head on her paws, trembling as painful memories replayed in her mind.

~~~

It was windy that day. Maybe if it hadn't been, things would have been different.

The sun was shining; it was a nice, warm day in early summer. The kits were sent outside to play, giving their mothers a chance to clean up the nursery a bit. All six kits, that is: Fawnkit, Splinterkit, Claykit, Lilackit, Wolfkit, and…

Rabbitkit.

Wolfkit had not been the only daughter born to Sparrowthorn. She was the elder in a litter of two, and she had a little sister named Rabbitkit.

The two had been so close when they were little, and they dreamed of becoming warriors together. But alas, the cruel hand of fate had other plans.

The youngsters, being curious kittens, decided to play on the cliff that day. They lived in the mountains; it wasn't uncommon for Mountainclan cats to explore their own territory, dangerous as it may be.

Well, you know what they say about curiosity...

It wasn't clear in her memory who issued the dare, and that was probably for the best.

Whoever it had been, they declared that whichever kit among them could climb the boulder on top of the highest part of the cliff before the rest was the "winner."

This was not to be so, however, for none of them came home feeling they had won at all.

The kits took off, each trying to be the first to reach the rock. Only Lilackit hung back, always the cautious one. Wolfkit and Rabbitkit should have followed her example, but their competitive spirit drove them on; the triplets were older and should have known better altogether.

At first, Claykit was ahead, but he got lucky; he tripped over a crack in the stone floor and fell behind.

Had he not stumbled, it might have been him who didn't return that day.

Another what-if on which there was no point dwelling. Any loss was still a loss, no matter which cat it was.

Next to take the lead was Wolfkit herself, gray hindpaws throwing dust at her opponents. She was distracted, though, when Rabbitkit called out to her.

"Wolfkit! Look behind you!"

Breaking stride, the scruffy kit whipped her head around to see what Rabbitkit was warning her about, only to realize there was nothing there.

"Haha, got you!" her sister shouted.

Having successfully distracted Wolfkit, she passed her, stealing first place in the race. The little brown-and-white she-cat hopped up to the highest peak of the cliff, scrambling atop the boulder and claiming victory of the challenge.

"Ha! I win, you guys!"

She grinned down at them, her tail held high.

"Fine, fine," Claykit grumbled. "Rabbitkit is the winner!"

"Yes!" she cried, hopping into the air excitedly.

That was when things took a turn for the worst.

As she landed, her paws skidded across the boulder's surface. The wind threw her off balance as she tried to collect herself, pushing her to the edge of the stone. She tried digging in her claws but there was no use; there was nothing to hold on to...

This part of the memory warped, replaying in slow motion, every heartbeat hammering into Wolfpaw's mind.

Rabbitkit clung to the edge of the boulder, a look of terror on her small face.

She slipped, dropping down past the top of the cliff and just barely catching herself on a narrow ledge.

The other kits panicked, unsure of what they could do to help. Lilackit leapt to her paws and ran to find an older warrior who might know what to do, but she never found them; in her haste she had gone the wrong way.

Wolfkit and the triplets gathered at the cliff's edge, trying to grab Rabbitkit with their outstretched paws. She was beyond their reach, though, and they didn't know what else to do but to call for help.

Wolfkit glanced anxiously at their surroundings, hoping for something, anything, they could use to rescue her sister before it was too late.

The older kits dashed into the woods, searching for a branch or vine, maybe.

Leaving Wolfkit alone.

Making her the only witness when tragedy struck.

Rabbitkit couldn't hold on forever, and the ledge was too small to stand on, even for the little kit. Her body grew tired, and her claws began to slide off the stone.

"No! Hold on, Rabbitkit!" Wolfkit cried.

"I can't," came the soft, pained response. "Goodbye, Wolfkit."

Twin yellow eyes met one last time as Rabbitkit released her grip on the cliff.

She plummeted down the face of the wall, crashing into rocky ledges in her descent. Every impact of her small body against the hard, unforgiving stone was like a claw stabbing into her sister's heart.

"No!" Wolfkit shrieked, lunging forward and almost throwing herself over the edge. She gazed down in horror as her sister's body finally hit the ground and lay still.

Rabbitkit had fallen a great distance, but not enough to hide from the panicked witness the damage that had been done to her fragile young form.

Wolfkit mewled pitifully at the sight of her little sister's broken, beaten body, at the ever-so-faint and fading rise and fall of her side, the last dying hope that she could have somehow survived.

Wolfkit had never been so terrified in her life.

A rustling behind her made her whirl around, finding her mother approaching from the trees.

"Mother!" she screeched, "Help! Rabbitkit fell off the cliff! We need to go get her!"

Sparrowthorn went rigid, shock and apprehension filling her eyes. She darted to the boulder beside Wolfkit, searching for her younger daughter.

Her gaze fell upon the broken kit at the bottom of the peak, and she inhaled sharply, drawing away from the edge.

Heavily, she sighed, "There's nothing we can do for her now, Wolfkit. She's gone."

The scruffy she-kit's eyes widened ever further in alarm and anger.

"How do you know?" she demanded. "Maybe she's not! Maybe we can still save her!"

"Wolfkit... It's too late. There's no way she survived that fall. And even if she did, she would be broken beyond repair."

"So what?" Wolfkit yelled hysterically. "We could take care of her, and Canyonbreeze could fix her up, and-"

Sparrowthorn cut her off, grabbing her by the scruff and dragging her back from the cliff's edge. She turned away and carried her remaining daughter back to camp.

"You're just gonna leave her behind?" Wolfkit shouted, rage and grief coursing through her.

She received silence in response.

After that day, a deeper coldness had grown between Sparrowthorn and her kit.

When they returned to the clan, she told them what happened, leaving out Wolfkit's protests and her own refusal to go back.

The other queens expressed utmost sympathy, and no cat was allowed to play on the peaks of the cliffs ever again. All the kits were badly shaken, but none so much as Wolfkit.

~~~

Wolfpaw found herself wondering yet again how things might have gone differently.

Could she have done more to save her sister? Could she have climbed down and retrieved Rabbitkit herself?

She sometimes wondered what might have happened if she hadn't gotten distracted.

There were days she wished she would have kept the lead, that it would have been her who reached the boulder first.

Would she have had the sense not to let her excitement get the best of her?

Probably not.

Could it not just as easily have been her who was lost that day? Should it have been her?

There was no point asking herself these questions, and she violently shook them- and the memories- from her head.

Her destiny lay ahead, not in the past.

The troubled apprentice slowly rose from the dusty ground and padded over to the den, avoiding eye contact with Splinterpaw and Claypaw.

Climbing into her nest, she settled down for some much needed rest, hoping her sleep wouldn't be filled with nightmares.

~~~

Chapter 8

[killemwithkawaii]

Read Before Interacting 💬❌

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~This is an 18+ blog that contains explicit sexual, violent and generally disturbing/triggering content. These are works of fiction and are for entertainment only. Remember: always keep it safe, sane and consensual IRL!

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[see under the cut for trigger warning tags]

~All NSFW posts are tagged as ‘#sorry steve’, put under the appropriate community labels (as of October 2022), and are tagged with the following citrus scale (as of March 2022):

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Trigger Warning Tag List:

(All begin with ‘tw’. Please feel free to ask me to tag anything not on the list, and let me know if ever miss a tag on a post!)

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