#above knee amputation

[rimbaudsleg]

Hanging empty tights leg

[ruin-run]

[amputeewomen]

Beautiful woman, shows great balance, dancing with a hula hoop. She is amazing.

[befuddled-calico-whump]

Augusnippets Day 22: Tearful Goodbye

cw: past torture, captivity

previous // Riot Kings AU Masterlist //

for the @augusnippets challenge // word count: 581

=~=~=

They cuffed his hands in front of him when he asked, and it's honestly more than Dan hoped for. He has five minutes alone, the pair of guards that will escort him to Mainfleet barricading the medbay door to prevent him from running.

He won't. He can't.

Wes has drifted in and out of consciousness for the past week; Swift had seen him to the brink of death, but he's held on. It shows on both counts. Bandages or bruises cover most of his skin, and one of the medics had shaved off his matted hair to get at some nasty head wounds.

That last bit may be the most gut-wrenching. Wes has had his hair dyed since they joined the Riot Kings; he's always taken care of it, always taken the time to re-color it when the brown started to creep through. The loss of it makes him look hollow somehow. Less alive.

Dan feels about as empty as Wes looks. The only reason he's on his feet at all is because he needs to be, because if he would've given in to the pain and exhaustion both of them would be doomed. He hasn't allowed himself a second to process much of anything yet. What he escaped, what he's resigned to, what he's left with.

Five minutes.

He's putting this off. If he thinks about it, he’s afraid he'll break down, have to be dragged away weeping. Dan tries to swallow the lump in his throat, and moves to the bed, cupping Wes’s cheek with a chained hand.

“Hey.”

When Wes’s eyes open, there's a clarity there, and Dan is glad. He doesn't think he could do this if Wes were locked in delirium. He reaches up to lay a hand over Dan’s.

“Hey,” he croaks, then frowns. “Wh’s wrong?”

They haven't been left alone together since day one, always a guard or a medic, or both. Or maybe Wes just sees it on his face.

“I'm..” He swallows again. The lump won't go away. “They're taking me today. “ I don't know if I'll see you again.

“What? Where?”

He's not going to sugarcoat it. “Prison, probably.” But he's not above lying. “I'll be okay.”

“Dan… th-they can't—”

“I don't have a choice.” He won't fight, won't run. He'll comply to the best of his ability. He squeezes Wes's hand, silent for a moment. “They're sending you home.”

“They're… no, Dan—”

“You'll be safe. I've been talking to the captain. As long as I comply—”

“Why would you—?”

“This is the only way.” If Wes is sent to prison, he will die. On Arrow, he'll be free. Monitored, but taken care of. 

One of the guards raps on the door, and a pang runs through him. Not now, not yet, don't—

His eyes sting, and he hurries to wipe away any tears. “It's time. I have to go.”

“Please. Please, Danny, please don't do this.” His fingers curl around Dan's, refusing to let him go.

“Promise me you'll stay out of trouble,” he says, like he's only going away for a little while, like he'll be right back.

He won't. He'll never…

The guard knocks again, but Dan ignores it, bending over the bed to embrace Wes, trying not to hold him too tight as the other man sobs into his shoulder.

“I'm sorry,” he breathes against Wes's ear. “I'm sorry.”

“Please don't die. Please… I need you to come back.”

“I will. I promise.”

He's not above lying.

[jophgrim]

OMG, an amazing stump

[kiwibirb1]

HOLY SHIT

ITS GONE. I CANT FEEL MY KNEE

THIS IS AMAZING

[lilnasxvevo]

I get that Dr. House did not want to cut his leg off and that it is his god-given right to decide what he gets to do with his own body but did anyone else watching House MD back when it was still airing ever just think “man just cut it off???? Like just cut it off”

[cinnabeat]

crazy how walking around for literally like 2 hours has made having knees unbearable

[rimbaudsleg]

Explaining his prossy

[izzy-b-hands]

Sometimes I get mad when I get stuck mid-draft bc I need to research something, but researching abt prosthetic legs and what sort of knees they can have (bc I think for this modern hotel au, Izzy would probably have had Ed and Stede help spring for one that has a fancier, unfortunately more expensive and heavier but seemingly easier to bend, knee)

Purely so that I can have Izzy give Frenchie a blowjob while under the front desk at the hotel has been just. A good time. There's a lot of options for these prosthetics and it's been cool as fuck to learn abt tbh

[amputeewomen]

Cute amputee woman lip syncing to a Chinese song.

[justreadingthings]

“The only thing I owe you is a lack of choices. So there you go, I’m paying you back.” YES MA’AM!!!! Good fucking riddance. We love a mob queen.

Earlier in this series I almost commented that Peaches and Bucky remind my of Hades and Persephone because deadly/sunshine, but now at the end and when I really think about it, Persephone was actually the mastermind in Hades while still being the goddess of spring. And isn’t that just perfect for them?

Also now I really wanna listen to Miss Americana and the Heartbreak Prince for some reason??? I’ve had it stuck in my head while reading this hehe.

And the ending????!!! Bucky has been head over heels for her for most of just life, so him admitting to having a ring is just perfect and sweet 💖 I loved reading through this!

Caught in the Fire 35 - The End [Bucky Barnes x Reader]

A.N: Omg the last chapter!❤ Thank you so much for your wonderful support my loves, it was amazing to have this journey with you! ❤ I love you so much! ❤

Pairing: Mobster!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Some people are meant to be together.

Warnings: Violence, death, crime, explicit language, dysfunctional relationships, murder, blood, trauma. This is an AU, friendly reminder that I don’t condone any of the actions depicted on this story and please read with care.

Series Masterlist

The beeping of the machine was the first thing that pulled you out of the haze of sleep along with a movement beside you. You scrunched up your face and stretched your back, hearing a small crack before you opened your eyes.

Oh.

Hospital.

“Morning, sleepyhead.”

Keep reading

[darylbae]

there’s just smth about daryl seeing you injured maybe a broken leg or even an amputated one from a bite and limping, someone holding you up as you walk. he’d almost run over to you and pick you up.

a dumb idea — daryl dixon 🩰

in which you were injured on a run, and daryl can't bare to see you that way without helping.

Rick had chosen you for a run, not alone, but for you to go. He'd seen you were quick, efficient with your melee weapons, and were probably one of the best choices. You were joining Rick and Glenn, Daryl having to sit this one out by Rick's orders. He hadn't cleared the prison in full yet, so he wanted Daryl back here to keep watch. Daryl and you weren't exclusively a thing, neither of you had spoken about it at all, but everyone else could see it was waiting to happen. You were currently just really good friends hiding your feelings for each other, or at least thinking you were hiding your feelings for each other. You were sat in the backseat of the car, happily talking to Glenn as the car rolled towards the gates. You glanced out the window to see Daryl, sulking at the gate yet picking his arm up to wave at you. You returned the gesture, a sweet smile on your face that Daryl had become addicted to. One of the many addicting things about you.

Your positive-for-the-end-of-the-world attitude had come to an end when you'd ran into a building to find some cover, the darkness of the building rendering you blind as your leg had been impaled by a broken bit of a glass shelf. You let out a cry, falling to your feet as Rick and Glenn rushed over to assist you. "You good?" "What happened?" Rick had turned a flashlight to your leg, seeing your jeans ripped and stuck to your leg with the amount of blood. You almost passed out at the look of it, the glass had lodged itself in there pretty snug. "We need to get her back, now," Rick demanded, wrapping an arm around your back and coordinating with Glenn to get you safely to the car. Rick had taken his shirt off and tied it around your leg above the wound, before beginning the drive back to the prison. Glenn had trained his eyes on you and your leg for most of the drive, making sure you were still alive and not dying back there. The drive felt like hours, you felt like closing your eyes but Glenn was adamant on talking to you. Telling you about Maggie, telling you about how sweet Daryl seems to be around you, and you knew it was a distraction tactic, to keep you awake and not looking at your completely blood soaked shin.

You heard the rattle of the gates as they'd slid open for the car, and you felt a short burst of relief to be back. "Dar..." You managed to speak, wincing as Rick had reached for your hand to pull you out. "Daryl." Rick and Glenn had their arms under yours, carrying most of your weight for you. Until Daryl had heard the commotion and come out to see what the fuck people were shouting for.

Daryl saw you. Your leg, completely red from the knee down, being assisted into the prison. He wanted to help, he wanted to ease your pain even just a little. Dropping his crossbow to the ground, he'd paced over to you, relieving Glenn and Rick of their duties. "It's okay, I got ya," he cooed, "I got 'er," he'd lifted you, arms clinging to you as he led you to the cell block. "It's okay, sweetheart." Your blood loss wasn't fatal, thankfully, but Herschel was about to have you on the mend in no time.

You'd been allowed to rest, peeling your eyes open after having slept a while. The first thing you were aware of was the pain in your leg, which was thankfully still there. It was still light outside, so it must not have been long at all. A bottle of water and some pain meds were sat at your bedside, and you'd desperately taken them in order to ease your pain. "There's my girl." You heard, and Daryl had entered your cell and sat at your side. "How's the leg?" You chuckled. "It's seen better days." You could've sworn you'd spotted a smile on his face for a moment. "Were you scared? Did you think I was gonna die?" You teased, poking his arm and smiling innocently up at him. "No," he answered, "you're a fighter. I know that." There was something he was keeping to himself, you could see it in his brain. Almost as if he wasn't allowing himself to say it. It had been a tough process even getting to a friendly level with him, he had always kept his feelings to himself. But you liked to believe you were making progress with him, you wanted to. "What's on your mind?" You asked sweetly, your voice like honey, and he was addicted. God, he was addicted. He wanted nothing more than to have you night and day, for breakfast, lunch and dinner. But he didn't know the first thing about flirting, or even dating. "Nothin," he grumbled, and you sighed dramatically. "Come on, Daryl," you exclaimed, "talk to me. I need some sort of stimulation for my brain." Your voice was light, but you meant it. He paused, almost debating whether or not to say it. "I just care about ya, is all. When I saw ya bein carried in, my mind just stopped and all I wanted to do was make sure you were okay. Told Rick it was a dumb idea." You smiled, poking his arm again. "You care about me, that's sweet. I care about you, too." He grabbed your hand as it made contact with his arm, and just held it between his own. This was his way of expression, to show you how he felt without ruining it with his words. The pair of you just sat in silence, hands interlaced, a stupid grin on both your faces as you stared at each other. Adrenaline was pumping through your veins, a wave of confidence taking over you as you leaned up and pressed a small kiss to his cheek. Once Daryl had registered what you'd done, he'd turned his head, closing the small gap between you both for a delicate kiss. He was so gentle, his hands still holding yours firmly, and you wanted to do this forever. "I hope that speaks better than I do." He admitted, and you just laughed, resting your head on your shoulder. "Now get some rest, I don't want to see ya on your feet for the rest of the day."

[cripplecharacters]

Where to Start Your Research When Writing a Disabled Character

[large text: Where to Start Your Research When Writing a Disabled Character]

So you have decided that you want to make a disabled character! Awesome. But what's next? What information should you decide on at the early phrase of making the character?

This post will only talk about the disability part of the character creation process. Obviously, a disabled character needs a personality, interests, and backstory as every other one. But by including their disability early in the process, you can actually get it to have a deeper effect on the character - disability shouldn't be their whole life, but it should impact it. That's what disabilities do.

If you don't know what disability you would want to give them in the first place;

[large text: If you don't know what disability you would want to give them in the first place;]

Start broad. Is it sensory, mobility related, cognitive, developmental, autoimmune, neurodegenerative; maybe multiple of these, or maybe something else completely? Pick one and see what disabilities it encompasses; see if anything works for your character. Or...

If you have a specific symptom or aid in mind, see what could cause them. Don't assume or guess; not every wheelchair user is vaguely paralyzed below the waist with no other symptoms, not everyone with extensive scarring got it via physical trauma. Or...

Consider which disabilities are common in real life. Cerebral palsy, muscular dystrophy, stroke, cataracts, diabetes, intellectual disability, neuropathy, multiple sclerosis, epilepsy, thyroid disorders, autism, dwarfism, arthritis, cancers, brain damage, just to name a few.

Decide what specific type of condition they will have. If you're thinking about them having albinism, will it be ocular, oculocutaneous, or one of the rare syndrome-types? If you want to give them spinal muscular atrophy, which of the many possible onsets will they have? If they have Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome, which one out of the 13 different types do they have? Is their amputation below, or above the knee (it's a major difference)? Not all conditions will have subtypes, but it's worth looking into to not be surprised later. This will help you with further research.

If you're really struggling with figuring out what exact disability would make sense for your character, you can send an ask. Just make sure that you have tried the above and put actual specifics in your ask to give us something to work with. You can also check out our "disabled character ideas" tag.

Here are some ideas for a character using crutches.

Here are some ideas for a character with a facial difference (obligatory link: what is a facial difference?).

If you already know what disability your character is going to have;

[large text: If you already know what disability your character is going to have;]

Start by reading about the onset and cause of the condition. It could be acquired, congenital, progressive, potentially multiple of these. They could be caused by an illness, trauma, or something else entirely. Is your character a congenital amputee, or is it acquired? If acquired - how recently? Has it been a week, or 10 years? What caused them to become disabled - did they have meningitis, or was it an accident? Again, check what your options are - there are going to be more diverse than you expect.

Read about the symptoms. Do not assume or guess what they are. You will almost definitely discover something new. Example: a lot of people making a character with albinism don't realize that it has other symptoms than just lack of melanin, like nystagmus, visual impairment, and photophobia. Decide what your character experiences, to what degree, how frequently, and what do they do (or don't do) to deal with it.

Don't give your character only the most "acceptable" symptoms of their disability and ignore everything else. Example: many writers will omit the topic of incontinence in their para- and tetraplegic characters, even though it's extremely common. Don't shy away from aspects of disability that aren't romanticized.

Don't just... make them abled "because magic". If they're Deaf, don't give them some ability that will make them into an essentially hearing person. Don't give your blind character some "cheat" so that they can see, give them a cane. Don't give an amputee prosthetics that work better than meat limbs. To have a disabled character you need to have a character that's actually disabled. There's no way around it.

Think about complications your character could experience within the story. If your character wears their prosthetic a lot, they might start to experience skin breakdown or pain. Someone who uses a wheelchair a lot has a risk of pressure sores. Glowing and Flickering Fantasy Item might cause problems for someone photophobic or photosensitive. What do they do when that happens, or how do they prevent that from happening?

Look out for comorbidities. It's rare for disabled people to only have one medical condition and nothing else. Disabilities like to show up in pairs. Or dozens.

If relevant, consider mobility aids, assistive devices, and disability aids. Wheelchairs, canes, rollators, braces, AAC, walkers, nasal cannulas, crutches, white canes, feeding tubes, braillers, ostomy bags, insulin pumps, service dogs, trach tubes, hearing aids, orthoses, splints... the list is basically endless, and there's a lot of everyday things that might count as a disability aid as well - even just a hat could be one for someone whose disability requires them to stay out of the sun. Make sure that it's actually based on symptoms, not just your assumptions - most blind people don't wear sunglasses, not all people with SCI use a wheelchair, upper limb prosthetics aren't nearly as useful as you think. Decide which ones your character could have, how often they would use them, and if they switch between different aids.

Basically all of the above aids will have subtypes or variants. There is a lot of options. Does your character use an active manual wheelchair, a powerchair, or a generic hospital wheelchair? Are they using high-, or low-tech AAC? What would be available to them? Does it change over the course of their story, or their life in general?

If relevant, think about what treatment your character might receive. Do they need medication? Physical therapy? Occupational therapy? Orientation and mobility training? Speech therapy? Do they have access to it, and why or why not?

What is your character's support system? Do they have a carer; if yes, then what do they help your character with and what kind of relationship do they have? Is your character happy about it or not at all?

How did their life change after becoming disabled? If your character goes from being an extreme athlete to suddenly being a full-time wheelchair user, it will have an effect - are they going to stop doing sports at all, are they going to just do extreme wheelchair sports now, or are they going to try out wheelchair table tennis instead? Do they know and respect their new limitations? Did they have to get a different job or had to make their house accessible? Do they have support in this transition, or are they on their own - do they wish they had that support?

What about *other* characters? Your character isn't going to be the only disabled person in existence. Do they know other disabled people? Do they have a community? If your character manages their disability with something that's only available to them, what about all the other people with the same disability?

What is the society that your character lives in like? Is the architecture accessible? How do they treat disabled people? Are abled characters knowledgeable about disabilities? How many people speak the local sign language(s)? Are accessible bathrooms common, or does your character have to go home every few hours? Is there access to prosthetists and ocularists, or what do they do when their prosthetic leg or eye requires the routine check-up?

Know the tropes. If a burn survivor character is an evil mask-wearer, if a powerchair user is a constantly rude and ungrateful to everyone villain, if an amputee is a genius mechanic who fixes their own prosthetics, you have A Trope. Not all tropes are made equal; some are actively harmful to real people, while others are just annoying or boring by the nature of having been done to death. During the character creation process, research what tropes might apply and just try to trace your logic. Does your blind character see the future because it's a common superpower in their world, or are you doing the ancient "Blind Seer" trope?

Remember, that not all of the above questions will come up in your writing, but to know which ones won't you need to know the answers to them first. Even if you don't decide to explicitly name your character's condition, you will be aware of what they might function like. You will be able to add more depth to your character if you decide that they have T6 spina bifida, rather than if you made them into an ambiguous wheelchair user with ambiguous symptoms and ambiguous needs. Embrace research as part of your process and your characters will be better representation, sure, but they will also make more sense and seem more like actual people; same with the world that they are a part of.

This post exists to help you establish the basics of your character's disability so that you can do research on your own and answer some of the most common ("what are symptoms of x?") questions by yourself. If you have these things already established, it will also be easier for us to answer any possible questions you might have - e.g. "what would a character with complete high-level paraplegia do in a world where the modern kind of wheelchair has not been invented yet?" is more concise than just "how do I write a character with paralysis?" - I think it's more helpful for askers as well; a vague answer won't be of much help.

I hope that this post is helpful,

mod Sasza

[katyawooga]

sevika week – day three, shimmer

— nsfw warning

shimmer was the most dangerous and the most passed around substance in the undercity. many people abused it, others discovered certain medicinal benefits. sevika was a completely different case.

you still weren't completely sure how the partial-cyborg thing worked with sevika's arm, and you were weirdly curious about the blood-to-shimmer ratio in her system. nevertheless, her chemtech arm and her capabilities while under the strengthening influence of shimmer really turned you on.

"so, tell me again how your arm works? like, you just think and it does whatever you want?" you swooned when she got all geeky and nerdy about her arm.

"i feel like i've told you a million times, cariña," she chuckled, sitting you on her lap on the couch of your shared apartment. "well, anyway, singed had to amputate my arm when it got damaged from the explosion, but he made sure to keep the important nerve endings intact..."

your eyes lazily followed where she pointed at different parts of her bionic arm, getting mesmerized seeing the neon purple liquid flowing through the mechanical veins.

"and the shimmer," you snapped back into reality after zoning out. even just her voice and how she got all technical got you going. "you never use it around me. what does it do to you?"

sevika paused and placed her human hand on your waist, caressing down to your hip.

"you don't wanna know that, mi amor," she assured you, thinking that was the end of the conversation.

"no, but i do," you insisted, shifting in her lap to straddle more comfortably one of her muscular thighs. "tell me, mamí. what happens when the shimmer gets into your system?"

your heart was already racing and that familiar, and welcoming, heat was pooling in your lower belly. she locked eyes with you, her grey gaze meeting yours with a smirk.

"i barely feel like myself. this sort of... passion, and the urges that take me over are impossible to ignore."

sevika's touches were slowly becoming more purposeful, her human hand giving your ass a gentle squeeze.

"what urges?" you asked, your eyes practically sparkling. you hadn't even noticed the slight rocking that you were doing against her thigh. she scoffed and glanced across the room, where she kept her cross-body belt of shimmer capsules.

"d'you want me to show you, preciosa?"

you nodded immediately, and she gestured for you to bring her the shimmer. you obliged, and she took one of the capsules and inserted it into the compartment of her arm.

"this is a smaller dose, i don't wanna hurt you, baby," she said, revving up her arm to inject the shimmer into her bloodstream and through her body. her bluish-purple scarring that stretched up the left side of her neck and her face shone bright as the shimmer dispersed in her system, and you could've sworn her eyes flashed magenta.

sevika grunted and shook her head, looking intensely into your eyes. you had never wanted her to put you through the mattress more than right now.

you kissed her first and she held an iron grip on your waist, guiding your hips to grind against her thigh. her groans sounded strained and distorted, but god, it was hot. her tongue shoved its way into your mouth, tasting every inch of you that there was.

"bed. strip." she ordered, panting once you had broken away from the kiss. you wasted no time in doing what she wanted.

you were naked on the bed as she walked over to you, towering above the bed and stripping herself of her own clothes. the urgency in which she did it caused her to rip through her shirt and her pants, and it only made you throb harder. she grabbed the harness and the most impressive strap-on dildo you owned and donned it proudly. she climbed onto the bed and stood on her knees in front of you.

"is this what you wanted, mi bebé?" sevika growled, running the tip of the toy through the lips of your soaked pussy. "to see me like this? so powerful?"

you couldn't help but moan and whine at the sight of her above you, the way she pulled you closer by your ankles.

"y-ye–"

you were cut off by the sharp thrust she made, making you gasp. she stayed buried in you, her thumb reaching down to circle your needy clit.

"yeah? you wanted your mamí high off shimmer to fuck you?" she questioned, pulling out slowly then snapping her hips right back in, just as deep.

"fffuh..." you whined, your head falling back against the pillow. "yes... yesss v-vika..."

once she got the answer she was looking for, she chuckled to herself and continued to fuck you. she had never used this much force before, and the sounds of skin-to-skin had never been so loud. she had you gripping the sheets, blabbering nonsense, and drooling from the corners of your mouth.

"fff– vika, i... c-cum, i'm gonna cummm..." you whined, your words coming out like stutters from the rhythmic and unrelenting thrusts into your weeping pussy. "ple-ease..."

the stamina sevika gained while on shimmer was insane. she laughed at how you were close.

"you really wanna cum now, baby girl?" she taunted, leaning down to kiss and suck on your neck. "and ruin all the fun? hell, i ain't stoppin' 'til i can feel the bed's legs giving way."

that comment alone had you clenching tightly around the clear silicone toy. your brain felt like mush from the roughness. sevika pinched and toyed with your clit and pushed you even closer to the edge.

"i'm cumming, i-i'm cumming, ssse... sevika...!" you reached up and gripped onto her human forearm as you came harder than you have in a long time, whining out her name and several profanities as you tried to calm down. but her efforts weren't slowing down.

"when did i say this was over, mi vida?"

@sevikaweek

[milksnake-tea]

━━ star-shaped .

War was never pretty. Death comes for both enemy and ally, and even as a healer, you cannot save everyone. Wearied by the war that seems to drag on for years, with no victory in sight, you join Jiaoqiu at the campfire for a rare moment of peace.

jiaoqiu x gn!reader

contains: based on leaks abt jiaoqiu's character stories !! but honestly its kinda implied in the quest but idk. has death, war, depictions of injuries and diseases, things are rough, can be read as platonic or romantic !!

word count: 1.7k

a/n: i love this man and his potential because goddamn war stories??? in my hsr??? sign me UP. also this was inspired by The Things They Carried by Tim Burton that i was forced to read in highschool. i loved the soldier death scene in that book so YEAH

taglist: @sh0jun , @themoderatelyawesomeninja , @xphantasmagoriax , @rainswept , @lucensei , @akutasoda , @naraven @camellia-rabbit , @scribs-dibs , @apathicace

The man you killed had two eyes; one was closed, and the other a star-shaped hole.

You wake when the sky is still dark and the sun bathes the other side of the planet. Harsh winds beat unrelentlessly at the tent’s folds, and hail pelts at the sturdy fabric.

Some of your comrades, fellow healers, sleep soundly as they can on the battlefield, while others work tirelessly in the makeshift hospital next tent over, keeping an eye on injured and diseased soldiers’ conditions.

Fire crackles outside. The sound is sharp, yet barely audible over the snow storm.

With a sigh, you pull your sheets off of you and as quietly as possible, make your way outside the tent. You aren’t going to get much sleep anyway - you might as well do something useful.

The man you killed resurfaces in your mind. He had two eyes - one closed, the other a star-shaped hole.

You pull your fur-lined coat closer around you as you step out into the camp. Snow crunches under your boots and you have to hold your hood in place to shield yourself from the hail.

To say that this planet is freezing would be an understatement. Here, the cold chilled you from your bones to your skin, seeping into your veins and leaving icicles in its wake. Frostbite was an everyday occurrence here; you’ve had to amputate more toes and fingers than ever in your life.

A silhouette sits before the fire, their back turned to you. As you get closer, you make out tall, Foxian ears and the same winter coat you’re currently wearing.

“Jiao?” you wrinkle your nose as you near, suddenly slammed with the strong scent of chili. Your comrade acknowledges you with a brief flick of the ears, but nothing more.

You don’t blame him. This war has been a harsh one, with less soldiers returning to camp every time they’re sent out. Unknown territory and harsh weather conditions made the battles long and exhausting, and healers could only do so much.

Not to mention, time passed so quickly yet so slowly here. You don’t know how long it’s been since you’ve been stationed, but it feels like several lifetimes.

Everyone is tired. You can see it in the hollowed cheeks, the eyes that have grown numb to death, and the despondent numbness that has overtaken the camp. They no longer cared who won or who lost. All they wanted was to return home in one piece.

The man you killed had two eyes. One was closed, and the other was a star-shaped hole.

You sit down next to Jiaoqiu on the log. The Foxian makes no move to push you off, only shifting to the side to help make room for you. Hugging your knees to your chest, you stare blankly at the drifting embers that dance in the air.

Jiaoqiu absentmindedly stirs at his soup. It boils in a small pot just above the fire, the thin liquid a red so bright it’d be threatening… if you had the energy to be threatened.

“It’s late,” you say into the crisp silence. “You should get some sleep before the sun rises. You’ll need it for tomorrow.”

Even as the words leave your mouth, you know it’s pointless. In war, sleep is something you have to force your body into. You have to lie down in the tents, look up at the fabric sky and listen to the hustle and bustle outside as soldiers are carried in and out, and close your eyes to the screams as yet another frostbitten knight has their arm cut off. You have to put yourself first, even for that small second, and allow yourself rest while your comrades fight on the front lines.

Sleep is a luxury that no one can afford. It is an escape. It is shameful.

And from the looks of Jiaoqiu’s darkened eye bags and mindless stirring, it’s a sin he won’t be partaking in tonight.

And neither will you.

Your gaze falls to the small bag of spices lying next to Jiaoqiu on the long. You can see peppercorns, cloves, fennel, cinnamon, and… star anise.

You look away.

The man you killed had two eyes. One was closed.

“How are you faring?” Jiaoqiu finally speaks. He doesn’t look at you and keeps his eyes on the flame.

Another gust of wind runs through you.

“As well as anyone else is, I suppose.”

Jiaoqiu swirls the soup with one hand. A bubble bursts and sprays the snow in little sizzling red freckles.

“How about you?” you ask.

The snow has already covered the soup’s spill by the time Jiaoqiu replies.

“As well as one can be,” he mutters. His hands, gloved with thick leather, clench once before relaxing.

A hollow chuckle leaves you. You sigh, kicking your legs out onto the snow and leaning back on the log. You look to the sky, to the cryptically beautiful cosmos. Blues, purples, and reds merge together like watercolor clouds above you, and small, white stars bejewel them.

Stars… Your gaze becomes lidded.

The man you killed had two eyes. One was a star-shaped hole.

“Do you think that man had a family?”

If Jiaoqiu was surprised at all by your question, he didn’t show it.

“Does it matter?” He takes a small taste of his soup. Despite it practically glowing in red, he doesn’t seem satisfied. “He was the enemy, need I remind you.”

You close your eyes briefly. “But I’m a healer.”

“You are.” Jiaoqiu opens his pouch and dumps in the rest of his chili rations - what for, you don’t know nor do you care to know. “You are also a soldier of the Xianzhou Yaoqing military. War always ends up in casualties, you know this. So did the soldier.”

There’s a bitterness in his tone that makes you wonder if he was talking to himself as well as to you. Your eyes soften.

“You did what you could, Jiao,” you offer. You want to put your hand on his shoulder, but you aren’t sure if that is appropriate, given the circumstances. “What happens outside the camp is beyond our control.”

Jiaoqiu sighs. His hand tightens around the ladle.

“Then what’s the point?” he whispers. His brows furrow, and his eyes open - a gem of amber reflecting years worth of grief and hopelessness. “What purpose do I have as a healer if I cannot stop my patients from hurtling towards their deaths?”

He turns to you, searching your face for any sort of answer that could satisfy him, that could reassure him that there was meaning, there was a point, that all of those bandages and surgeries and amputations weren’t for naught.

But you cannot answer him, for it is a question that no healer knows the answer to.

“You gave them another chance at life,” you say softly, unconvincingly. “That’s all that matters.”

“Even if that life is destined to end regardless of what I do?”

Dead eyes meet dull ones.

“What happens outside the camp is beyond our control,” you repeat blankly.

The man you killed had two eyes.

Jiaoqiu searches your gaze once more, before ultimately giving up. The amber of his eyes close, and he returns to the cauldron.

In a feeble attempt to console him, you go against your earlier thoughts and rest a hand on his shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze. But with the roughness of your gloves and the cold limiting the dexterity of your hands, it isn’t much - but it’s enough.

Jiaoqiu glances at your hand, then back at the cauldron.

“Do you feel bad?”

You blink, a bit caught off guard by the question, but you settle down soon enough.

“No,” you say after a brief pause. “He would’ve killed us if I hadn’t killed him.”

You lean forward, resting your head in your palm as you watch the flames swallow up what little tinder the others managed to collect.

“I’m just glad to be alive.” You don’t sound like you believe it.

Jiaoqiu’s ear flicks. You hear him stand up and scoop some of the soup up into his ladle, and dash out his tongue to taste it. His tail swishes, and his eyes widen momentarily, amber flashing like lightning.

A smile, a weary, tired, but grateful smile, slips onto his lips.

He turns to you, vitality returned, even if it’s just for a moment.

“Try this,” he says, holding the ladle out towards you. 

You eye it warily. The liquid drips down the sides of the ladle and drops down onto the snow below, sizzling the second red touches white. You didn’t think it was possible for the soup to get even redder, but Jiaoqiu somehow did it.

“I won’t die if I eat it, right?” you try to joke. Jiaoqiu huffs, his breath steaming in the air.

“You doubt my cooking capabilities?”

You shake your head. “No, but whatever you have in there doesn’t exactly look… edible.”

And yet you’re already leaning forward to taste his concoction. Jiaoqiu carefully holds the ladle still as you take a sip.

Instantly your senses are flooded with pure, unyielding heat. Fire blazes on your tongue, searing your throat and bringing tears to your eyes. Your stomach burns, and for the first time since you’ve come to this planet, you stop shivering.

It’s painful.

It’s exhilarating.

“It’s delicious,” you praise despite the coughs that wreck your being. “Although… did you have to add so much chili?”

Jiaoqiu hums out a laugh. “But that’s what makes it special.”

You don’t bother denying it. Instead, you laugh alongside him, eyes crinkling with joy instead of pain after years of constant war.

You’ll have to return to the war eventually. The sun is already beginning to rise, and soon the soldiers will be awakened to go out into battle once more. You’ll have to take over for your comrades who had spent the night in the hospital.

But you don’t have to do it just yet.

For now, you just want to enjoy this moment, this second of normalcy and peace in the battlefield.

The man you killed had two eyes.

One was closed.

The other was a star-shaped hole.

reblogs w comments are appreciated !!