#Caught in the Snare

[zegalba]

Vilém Reichmann: Caught in the Snare (1941)

[bulinemulte]

you do it to yourself

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Introvert adoption

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[dailyayao]

[bonefall]

You could play with the dirty part of the canon description by having Slash and his people roll in mud to hide their scent.

Parts of the Code labelling using weapons/traps as dishonorable could have started as agreements made that Slash's people wouldn't keep using their old tactics, maybe forced on Thunder's Clan to keep them from becoming too powerful, if they DID fuse.

I'm more liable to just remove the "dirty" thing entirely honestly; I just think it's so shitty I'd like to nuke it from orbit, you get me? Every single time they want you to hate someone, they make them fat and/or stinky. I'd rather just put that kind of rhetoric in the mouths of cats like Clear Sky and The Wind Runner, a lie to demonize their enemies, not really based on truth.

I think I might take the trap stuff though; that actually fits in nicely with how ThunderClan's the only one that uses spears. I won't have it be code yet, though, that's going to come a lot later. First two commandments of the code are Borders + Mercy, followed by Law 3 when Riverstar dies in some decades.

Also gonna need a name for Slash's new group. Hey, maybe THESE guys can be called Warriors, actually. Warriors of the Forest, like what the first arc used to be called before it was renamed TPB.

[antipathy-arsonist]

do you think that hank has like an inner conflict about just like. running away.

and not like from the people after him i mean from EVERYONE.

maybe if he runs and never comes back everyone else's life will be better. i feel like he thinks the way he needs medical treatment near constantly is a burden on everyone around him. and maybe if he didn't associate with them anymore aahw wouldn't hunt them? (not true hank j is just the self blamer) maybe he wouldn't have to be constantly be revived anymore.

but oh. running away is a cowards path and they will lash out like a cornered rat before they let people veiw them as a coward

[citrine-elephant]

cracking out an idea i had with my previous hyperfixation (to explain why he always had his neck covered)

as many times as leon's been strangled, what if.... what if, scars around his throat. specifically from being garrotted.

[just-here-with-my-thoughts]

Day 1: Helpless / Caught in a Snare

@febuwhump prompt: Helpless @badthingshappenbingo prompt: Caught in a Snare

Fandom: The Bad Batch Characters: Cadet Crosshair, Cadet Hunter, Cadet Wrecker, Cadet Tech Cadet Batch as featured in my WIP fic 'Pieces of the People We Love' - haven't read it? All you need to know is that Crosshair is the oldest, and Hunter is the youngest! Word Count: ~935 Click here to read on AO3

Synopsis: Experimental Unit 99 are on a training exercise and struggling to shake down with their new member, CT-9931 ‘Hunter’.

Crosshair scanned the forest constantly, enhanced eyesight picking up minute details which would escape his brothers’ notice. Tech loped along on his left, tapping away at a scanner which showed a relief map of the terrain, and Wrecker was on his right, heavy gun swinging idly from his hand.

Hunter was a handful of paces ahead of the three of them, skittishly glancing about as he guided them through the unfamiliar training course. The newest addition to their squad was more at home in this wild environ than he was in the halls of Kamino, and even Crosshair was begrudgingly impressed by Hunter’s enhanced senses as he kept them unerringly on track, without once referring to Tech’s map readouts.

His gaze zoned in on the ground ahead of them, and he pulled up short.

“Hunter.”

The younger boy tuned at his name, brown eyes flashing curiously from beneath his unruly mop of curls. Realising Crosshair had stopped, he slowed his steps until he too was still.

Tech and Wrecker halted between the two of them.

“Problem, Crosshair?” asked Tech, glancing between them.

“Give me your vibroknife, Hunter.”

Hunter bristled, teeth baring in a snarl. “What do you need it for?” he asked, defensiveness clear in his voice.

“I just need it,” said Crosshair, holding his hand out demandingly. “Hand it over.”

Scowl darkening, Hunter glanced at Tech and Wrecker for support. Tech shrugged his confusion, giving Hunter a sympathetic look. Wrecker turned to Crosshair.

“You can use my vibroknife, Cross,” he offered, unsheathing the blade which hummed to life. “Let Hunter keep his.”

Crosshair shook his head. “No, I need Hunter’s.”

Begrudgingly Hunter tugged the vibroknife from its sheath and held it out at arm’s length. When Crosshair didn’t move he muttered a curse and took a step forwards to close the distance between them, shoulders rising with tension.

Crosshair snagged the vibroknife and twirled it neatly between his fingers, a satisfied smirk spreading across his face. “Thanks, di’kut,” he said with a sardonic smile, not bothering to hide the creeping satisfaction of watching Hunter seethe.

With an audible snarl Hunter spun away from him, stalking forwards along the path.

The snare closed round his ankle, swift and decisive. Hunter was whipped into the air with a yelp, instinctively lashing out at nothing. Tech echoed Hunter’s yell with a surprised exhale, and Wrecker gave a bark of laughter.

“Hunter! You walked straight inter that one!” crowed Wrecker, picking his way carefully to the inverted clone and reaching out to stop him swaying. Hunter swore and swung at him, setting himself spinning as Wrecker leaned back easily to avoid the blow.

“We were warned of the potential of traps in the environ,” said Tech, peering up to follow the cable caught round Hunter’s leg. “I am surprised that none of us noticed it–”

He trailed off as he realised Crosshair’s shoulders were shaking.

“Ah.” He straightened his goggles. “Crosshair. Am I to take it that you did, in fact, spot the presence of the snare?”

“I am going to kill you,” snarled Hunter through bared teeth, although the effect was somewhat diminished by his inverted position and the gentle spin he found himself in.

Crosshair sauntered forwards, twirling Hunter’s vibroknife casually. “Shame you don’t have anything to cut yourself free with,” he taunted, leaning down so he was on eye level with the upside-down Hunter.

“Don’t worry Hunter, I’ll getcha down-” offered Wrecker, but was cut off by Hunter’s furious glare.

“I don’t need your help!” he spat defiantly, fixing Crosshair with a look full of loathing. “Give me my knife!”

Crosshair bared his teeth in a wicked grin, carefully holding the vibroknife in front of Hunter. The smaller boy lunged for it, reaching as far as he could, but his fingertips grasped empty air and he swung away.

Wrecker failed to stifle a laugh, and even Tech was covering his mouth with his hand to hide his amusement. Hunter’s face was slowly flushing crimson, though whether it was embarrassment or just the blood rushing to his head was hard to discern.

“What’s the matter, Hunter? Infallible senses didn’t notice the trap?” drawled Crosshair, an antagonistic smirk still painted on his face.

“You distracted me!” howled Hunter, thrashing about angrily. “You asked for my knife to distract me so I wouldn’t spot it!”

“Hmm, I guess I did,” the sniper gloated, tumbling the knife across his fingers once more before sheathing it at his belt.

“Awright Cross, you had your fun,” said Wrecker, smothering his grin as he shot a sympathetic look at Hunter. “Let’s cut him down.”

“Spoil-sport,” sneered Crosshair, starting along the path again. “Come on, Tech.”

Crosshair listened to the sounds of the other two as he walked away. There was a thud as Hunter hit the ground, a muffled, “I’ll kill him-”, and the sound of a scuffle as Wrecker restrained the furious young clone.

“That was rather unkind, Crosshair,” admonished Tech, falling into step beside his brother.

Crosshair discerned the truth of Tech’s amusement in his brother’s smile. His lips pressed thinly together.

“Now he’ll know better than to give up his weapons.”

“You’re his squad leader. He trusted you.”

“That’s the point,” said Crosshair, dropping his voice so that their words wouldn’t reach Hunter’s enhanced senses. “He didn’t like that feeling. Being helpless. Better he learned that now, with us, than… somewhere else.”

He risked a glance back to where Wrecker was carrying Hunter under one arm, the smaller boy squirming and cursing the whole time. His smile softened.

“Little idiot,” he muttered, with something close to affection.

[change-the-rules]

throwback appreciation for eloise's 'seriously?! Seriously?!' face while observing cressida's swooning dramatics with the prince

[vincentvalenfine]

when the adhd boredom sets in and you're ready to start clawing your skin off just to stave off the hollow feeling of pointlessness

[whump-tr0pes]

Lux in Tenebris, Medieval AU - Trail of Blood

@badthingshappenbingo

I completely forget to add the the bthb part. Red X for posted, white X for requested! Send in your requests! If you don’t see a prompt here that you already requested, please send it again!

This AU grabbed my brain and didn't let go. Many thanks to @newbornwhumperfly for enabling me in the DMs

Masterlist

AO3

Contents: demon whumpee, implied wounded animal (that doesn't happen), caught in a snare, blood, mild gore, mild finger whump, begging, misunderstanding whump, accidental self-harm (to escape the snare), rescue

~

The forest was loud today. Ilya picked their way through the underbrush, eyes sweeping along the ground as they searched for white-capped mushrooms on the forest floor. Above them, birds called to each other, and wind brushed through the swaying treetops. The buzz of insects gave the air a heavy quality, even though the afternoon was cool. Still, the basket on Ilya’s arm was still nearly empty. They still had a long afternoon yet of gathering to go before they could return home.

The noise felt almost… oppressive this morning, though. The birds seemed to be shrieking in alarm instead of their usual singing, and Ilya could hear the din of tree branches crashing together in the wind – but when they looked up, the crowns of the trees seemed to shake with little more than a slight breeze. They bit their lip and looked down for another mushroom. They tried very hard not to think about the whispers they’d heard in the village, whispers of an evil that had come to these woods in the last fortnight, evil fleeing the cleansings in the south. They bent to pick a mushroom and add it to the basket.

An inhuman screech cut through the forest.

Ilya shot upright, heart hammering in their chest. The sound came from their left, from a dense spot in the undergrowth. Their breaths came faster, faster, and they found themself moving towards the sound. They strained to hear something else. They tightened their thin cloak around their shoulders and crept, trembling, through the underbrush. Had they imagined it?

They almost turned back when another sound cut them to their core: a wail, long and drawn out and raw. It sounded… almost human.

A wounded deer, I bet, Ilya thought with a sinking heart. A hunter probably missed his mark. They set their jaw and moved toward the sound again. If they could at least put the creature out of its misery, that would be a kindness. And if it was small enough, they might be able to drag the animal back to their hut themself.

As they drew closer to where the creature was, Ilya could hear the sound of desperate thrashing in the undergrowth. A low, guttural moan reached Ilya’s ears as they pushed past a thick wall of branches. They bit their lip and prepared themself for the sight of a mortally wounded animal.

They bit back a gasp when they saw the creature wasn’t a creature at all, but a boy, with his right leg caught in a hunter’s snare.

He was filthy, his skin streaked with mud and blood, and tears had left tracks in the dirt on his cheeks. Sticks and leaves were matted in his hair. His clothes were torn. The snare cut deep into his lower leg, which was a mess of torn flesh and oozing blood. He heaved a ragged sob and tore at the snare with broken, bloody fingernails as Ilya watched with wide eyes.

Ilya took a step forward on shaking legs. A twig snapped under their foot. The boy’s head shot up, and Ilya had the sudden, horrifying realization that the boy was not a boy at all.

The boy’s pupils blew wide in terror, black taking up nearly the entire eye. Sharp fangs flashed, even in the afternoon shade. He flung himself back and away from Ilya, only to be caught by the snare. He cried out and bared his teeth at them, clawing at the ground and sobbing with every breath.

“Obsecro,” he croaked. “Non appropinquant.”

Ilya swallowed hard and stared at the creature in front of them for a long moment. He had dark circles carved under his eyes, and he trembled as if he was freezing. The flesh around the snare was swollen, enflamed. His eyes were strange, but there was such sadness in them, such pain.

And he looked so, so frightened.

“It’s alright,” Ilya said, voice low. They gently placed their basket down beside them. “I’m going to help you.”

They took one step toward the creature, then another. He didn’t move, didn’t seem to even breathe, just watched Ilya with those wide, terrified eyes. Ilya closed the distance between them, heart pounding. They did their best to ignore their fear, ignore the thought that perhaps this was the evil that the others had warned about lurking in the words. Carefully, they knelt beside the frightened creature. Still, he didn’t move. Ilya could see he that he was shaking harder, though. The leaves beneath him shuddered.

Ilya slowly reached out a hand towards the snare. The cord was thin, but strong, strengthened with horsehair. They had never paid attention to snares before, but they knew they did damage. Now they knew how much. They did their best to loop their finger under it, but it was far too tight. The creature hissed as Ilya worked at the snare, fumbling at the knot. They peeled back the scraps of his pant leg, wincing at the dried blood that glued it to the skin. Deep puncture holes dotted the flesh. Confused, Ilya glanced at the creature, before they realized: he’d been trying to bite his own leg off.

They tried to untie the snare from the tree it was tied to, to no avail. They tried pushing the tree over – they would have had better luck lifting a boulder. There was one more thing they could try.

They reached for their belt and pulled their small knife from its sheath.

The creature shrieked and recoiled from Ilya’s touch. His hands scrabbled in the deep leaves as he tried to drag himself away from them, keening so loudly the birds flew from their perches in the trees.

“No, shh,” Ilya murmured as they brought the knife to the creature’s leg. “I’m trying to—”

The creature whirled and snapped at Ilya, his teeth crashing together a millimeter from their hand.

Ilya reeled back and landed on their elbows. The knife flew from their grip.

The creature was in a frenzy. He tore at his leg with his teeth and nails, drawing blood until it ran in rivulets onto the forest floor. Blood smeared on his lips. The sound of his frantic sobbing cut Ilya down to their very soul. They forgot their fear and reached for their knife.

“Stop,” they breathed. “Stop, you’re hurting yourself… stop!” They staggered forward and pinned the creature down. He was bigger than they were, but as soon as they fell on top of him, he went rigid with a horrible wail. Ilya slid the knife between the snare and the creature’s leg and snapped the cord with a jerk. They rolled off of him and scrambled away on their hands and knees, just as he did the same.

He staggered to his feet and took off with a limping sprint into the woods, leaving behind a trail of blood and broken branches. Ilya’s heart was a blur of motion in their chest. They fought to catch their breath, swallowing over and over. Tears ran unbidden down their cheeks. Their hands were streaked with blood, and they wiped them hurriedly on the fallen leaves. They stared at the knife that lay on the forest floor beside them. For a long moment, they considered leaving it behind.

It’s a good knife, they thought finally. I can at least trade it away.

Their hands were shaking as they went to pick up their basket of mushrooms. Perhaps there would be enough left to gather on the way back home. They found the trail again and quickly made their way back to their lonely hut on shaking legs. They didn’t look behind them once, but they didn’t look at the ground much, either.

~

~

Translation of the Latin line:

“Please,” he croaked. “Don’t come near.”

@womping-grounds , @free-2bmee , @quirkykayleetam , @walkingchemicalfire , @inpainandsuffering , @redwingedwhump , @burtlederp , @castielamigos-whump-side-blog , @whatwhumpcomments , @whumpywhumper , @stxck-fxck ,  @whumps-the-word , @justwhumpitwhumpitgood,  @inky-whump ,  @orchidscript , @inkyinsanity , @this-mightaswell-happen , @newandfiguringitout , @whumpkitty , @pebbledriscoll , @im-just-here-for-the-whump , @endless-whump , @grizzlie70 , @oops-its-whump , @kixngiggles, @1phoenixfeather , @butwhatifyouwrite , @carnagecardinal , @laves-here, @mylifeisonthebookshelf , @wolfeyedwitch , @batfacedliar , @also-finder-of-rings , @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump, @extrabitterbrain

[couriernewvegas]

wait back to rant . esp because ppl going through that process are experiencing something very similar to transitioning trans people of different experiences like . my main consideration when i went off t was like hm maybe i should look into voice training and like . there are so many trans ppl especially trans women out there making resources and are open to sharing them so it’s like lowkey diabolical that radfems and conservatives try to convince detransitioning ppl especially people who were tme or afab or whatever that trans ppl and especially transfem ppl are like the root of all their woes

[hrokkall]

What are some ships or concepts you wished more people in the Inscryption fandom would explore?

I'm honestly not a big ship guy unless it's either really compelling or really funny. But as for concepts, I really wish people would just get a little weirder with stuff. I know that's a vast generalization—Inscryption as a game is already weird as hell by merit of existing—but I want to see more headcanons/writing quirks that are like "Leshy has parts of every animal, not just cervids—so he has leg spurs like a cricket and gets pin feathers in his fur like a bird" or "Video game logic applies ever so slightly in that characters can learn to reach into the code and pull out the assets allotted to them from hammerspace" or just... whatever the hell is going on with Magnificus in general. I love it when the universe the characters are in is already So Damn Weird that anything goes/the quirks of the world itself impacts those living in it and they hardly even notice because that's just Everyday Life.

Also just generally blue and orange morality stuff. Too much "the Scrybes are evil in a way that can be easily understood" and not enough "the Scrybes aren't evil in a clear-cut way but obviously SOMETHING is wrong here in a way that is So Much Worse than I originally preconceived." Fun stuff

[blackwood4stucky]

bleak are the heavens, darker the gods | aspen blackwood

Descend into the doppelgänger-verse where tales of the heavens are bleak and the gods are even darker. From the master weaver comes the story of a lineage steeped in blood and chaos.

──────.·:·.☽✧ ☆ﾟ ✦  ☆ﾟ ✧☾.·:·. ──────

✧☾.·:·..·:·.☽✧ in his house beneath the sea, he waits dreaming of you

A chance meeting with Lloyd sends Steve down a road darker than even the path of night.

──────.·:·.☽✧ ☆ﾟ ✦  ☆ﾟ ✧☾.·:·. ──────

✧☾.·:·..·:·.☽✧ i won't die from the salt that you pour in my wounds

Dr. Jack Benjamin always thought himself to be a good surgeon. When he loses another patient on his operating table, it sends him down a path befitting his ancestors.

──────.·:·.☽✧ ☆ﾟ ✦  ☆ﾟ ✧☾.·:·. ──────

next up: bound by blood, thy lovers kiss spells death

coming 2025 as part of the Love Like No Other - Dark Romance Bang: casting a spell on your heartstrings, you're caught in my snare

@darkerthegods

[7rabbi7s]

INTERMISSION

ALRIGHT, CHUCKLEFUCKS! THINGS HAVE SLOWED DOWN BETWEEN DYING AND DEATH, SO WHAT BETTER WAY TO GET THE BLOOD PUMPING OTHER THAN MEETING SOME SOCIALLY ANXIOUS AND UNSTABLE PEOPLE?

YOU GUYS KNOW THE RULES BY NOW. REBLOGS AND LIKES ARE WAYS WE TELL WHO WANTS TO WRITE WITH US. WE'RE HAMMERING THAT DOWN, IF YOU INTERACT WITH ANY OF OUR POSTS WE'LL BE IN YOUR DM'S READY TO PLOT. DON'T INTERACT UNLESS YOU ACTUALLY WANT TO WRITE WITH US.

RIGHT NOW WE'RE FEELING JAY AND CONNOR THE MOST, BUT FEEL FREE TO TELL/TAG/MESSAGE US WHO YOU'D PREFER. MUN WILL BE LISTING MUSES BELOW.

[tinydumpsterfire]

Happy New Year shit heads!!

Greta had a wonderful last word as she had Tate arrested! After all the fucked up shit hes done and said i hope the boys treat him well in prison!!

#a great end to the year