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ashintheairlikesnow · 4 months ago

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Why Not Us?

CW: Memories of mass murder, some internalized dehumanization, survivor’s guilt

Misae made it to the little bedroom before the moon rose, thankfully. He nearly tripped over the strange mattress on the floor, the one they’d blown up with air and then thrown blankets and pillows on. It was meant to be his bed, he thought, which made sense.

Anaya might let him on the real bed, but not to sleep. Wolves, like dogs, slept on the floor. It would be lonely, but it would make sense. Almost nothing did, now. Sitting in chairs, eating pizza instead of having to shift to eat the raw meat thrown into the kennels, wearing clothes and being asked if he would like something to drink… they didn’t seem to know what he was, to understand.

He could hear them now, Eden, Anaya, and Vanessa, from down the hall. They talked and laughed, and Misae felt hollowed out at the sound, wishing he could be there with them.

Maybe there would be more pizza.

He laid one hand on his stomach. It felt… almost rounded. He’d never eaten so much or so well, not in all the life he had lived. He hadn’t had to fight over any of it, either. There hadn’t been the need to snarl and posture, or crawl on his belly and lick at an older wolf’s mouth, hoping they’d give him a few scraps out of pity or some dim affection.

The moon’s slow rise made him restless, bouncing on his toes as he tried to decide where he could safely change. The room was small, but he could fit under the big bed if he was smart about it.

But then the humans would get into the bed, and if the mattress dipped low it might force him back out.

The call to shift prickled under his skin, and Misae stripped his shirt and pants off before it could take hold and leave him confused and trapped in the cloth. He tossed the sweatpants and shirt onto the bed just as he felt his spine begin to bend.

It always felt so good, when the shift started. Like waking up after a good sleep, coming back to where you belonged. He had always been meant to walk on four legs, and the human side was only what he was allowed for good behavior.

He leaned over, a sensation like goosebumps running up and down his arms and legs, setting his hair on end. The healing wound in his leg throbbed but some of the pain felt more distant as he changed.

It wasn’t that the wound disappeared, it was only that his wolf body knew how it felt to be injured with silver far better than his human body did. It knew how to ignore the pain, how to keep moving, because to let the pain take you was to be singled out to die. Wolves who were too hurt to keep going were wolves that starved, his instincts knew it. Wolves who starved died.

Everyone died anyway. It hadn't mattered how good they were when Bill didn't want them any longer.

He shuddered and shoved that thought aside. He couldn’t think about his family, not now. It would overtake him and he’d just be trapped in the grave in his mind, even if his body was here still breathing.

He couldn’t think about dozens of flat blank eyes, frozen in mute horror. He couldn’t think about the warmth still lingering in the stiffening bodies pressed all around him, about how Nina had tried to cover him and hide him from the shots even as she had been bleeding to death herself.

Had Nina been his real mother?

It was possible. Their fur was the same, their eyes were the same. But some of the other wolves had fur and eyes like his, too. But... maybe Nina had been his mother.

Maybe she had known it, if only at the end, and tried to save the one pup she could.

The humans had tried to ruin them to each other, make them hurtful and hateful, but the wolves had found a way to love, anyway. In secret, when it was safe, and at the end when nothing was safe and it didn’t matter any longer there was one more way to love that Bill couldn't take from them.

It made no difference if you loved when you would lose each other anyway. In the end, the werewolves had loved each other, and it hadn’t saved any of them.

Except him.

Misae closed his eyes, stretching his shifting muscles and forcing himself to leave the dead behind, for now anyway. For as long as he could.

Bones cracked and broke beneath his skin, painlessly reforming. Misae dropped to a crouch and leaned his weight forward on his hands, feeling bare, vulnerable fingers change to rougher paw pads and clicking nails. He stretched his front legs until the muscles stretched and burned and sighed, contented by the feeling.

Canine teeth lengthened and his ears grew. He twitched one just to feel it, exhaling a rough sigh as his tongue briefly lolled out. Fur spread over skin like a blanket, a little patchy but still warming his chilly body, and the bed on the floor called to him. He was tired, and the killing back at Bill’s house kept trying to worm its way past his moments of comfort and warmth in this new place, with these new people.

If he laid still, it would catch up with him, and he didn’t want Anaya or Eden to hear how wolves mourned, how they cried. He didn’t know if they would still comfort him then, or if they would turn angry at the sounds, or learn to hate him. Bill’s family hated the sound of the mourning wolves, beat them for their weeping in human form or for their howls as wolves.

Who knew what regular humans would do?

Misae only knew that Anaya and Eden had been kind, so far. But so had Aaron, sometimes - Bill’s youngest son had been known to scratch behind a wolf’s ears when none of the other humans were looking. Even Austin had once bandaged Misae’s leg after he’d gotten it caught in a fence and bled.

That didn’t make them any kinder when the werewolves broke the rules, rules no one ever said out loud but simply expected the wolves to learn by being beaten when they were broken until they figured them out. It had never stopped Austin from calling them all names, or laughing when they fought.

Human kindness always had limits.

Always.

Even as he became the first form he ever knew, the stalking werewolf that Bill had never been able to separate from the boy whose body the wolf shared, Misae knew he had to hide. Not from Anaya or Eden, who had already seen him as a wolf. Not because he feared them.

He had to hide because they didn’t know to fear him.

Misae’s nose turned black and scents exploded into the world around him. What had before been just the light smell of cleaning products and maybe a pumpkin-scented candle was now a collection of stories he could read in the air and along the ground. Vanessa had walked in here to set up the mattress, having forgotten to take her shoes off after getting the mail. Misae could smell the grass she had stepped on, scent the slight shift in her smell of frustration when it took a long time to get the air pump working to set up the mattress. He could smell, on the mattress, long months spent idle with no need to be used. The faintest smell of a camping trip, some time in the past - the last time the air mattress had been needed.

The way his sense of smell changed was always what gave away when it was time to find somewhere to hide, before the silver light could touch his fur and call to him. It would make him want to run, to howl and see if any other wolves were nearby to answer.

What would he do if they were?

He had known only his own family. He’d never seen any werewolves that didn’t huddle together in the kennels, fighting over the barest hints of kindness shown to them by Bill and his family. If he met a free wolf, he might simply lay down, show his belly, and wait for them to tear out his throat when they smelled the kennels on him.

Misae paced restlessly around the small room, limping and trying to keep weight off his injured leg, snuffling against the ground, tracing the hints of Eden and Anaya in here and then following the softer smell of Vanessa until he found the closet door was cracked open.

Perfect. Like a den.

He had to paw at it, whining softly with his ears flat against his head, looking nervously at the patch of moonlight that seemed to head inexorably in his direction. His heart raced beneath his fur at the sight.

Bill had always said, over and over again, never let the moonlight touch you. It was the only rule the humans told the werewolves, and taught to the pups before they were put into the main kennels. During the full moon, for three nights, they would huddle together inside big wooden boxes that formed a kind of den. Anyone caught outside the den, by Bill or by the cameras, would be punished.

It was the first thing Misae remembered learning, while still toddling around on four short legs, a few weeks after birth. Never let the moonlight touch you. He'd broken the rule running from the guns, from the grave of his family. He'd broken the rule running from Austin. But… that had been different, hadn’t it?

Hadn’t it?

Misae clambered clumsily over a pile of cardboard boxes, blowing harshly through his nose as things packed inside clattered around. He pushed at them with his snout until he had made for himself a sort of barrier, protecting him from the world outside this tiny space. He turned in a circle and then laid down, ears flat, shimmering amber-brown eyes watching the silvery light that cut across the bed through the open doorway.

Beneath his nose, soaked into the floorboards years ago, he could smell a hint of a rose perfume. Left by some other person, long before any of the familiar smells of Vanessa's life had entered this place.

The scent made him shudder, heart going cold.

Bill's wife Ada wore rose perfume.

The smell of roses, for the children in the puppy kennels, meant one of you might vanish that day. Ada sometimes took them, luring them out with treats and soft words until she could get the loop around their necks to pull tight, leading them on the leash inside.

She mostly brought them back, after sticking needles to take blood or give what she called 'medicine' that put the puppies to deep sleep and left them groggy and confused upon waking. She mostly brought them back.

But not always.

Rose perfume drifting on the air was sometimes all the warning they got before a pup disappeared.

The memories made him tremble and he whined softly, but quieted the sound as fast as he could. It was something all of them learned, not just how to hide from the moonlight but also how to be so quiet that none of the men and women inside the house could hear and think of them.

They all learned how to be, if only temporarily, forgotten.

Now Misae was the only left for Bill and his family to remember. He wondered if Bill would come for him, still. Try to find him. Or if, now that he'd outrun Austin, he'd let Misae go into a world where nobody was left to even love him in secret any longer.

It was Eden and Anaya he needed to hide from now. Not because they might hurt him, but because he might hurt them. Wolves were most dangerous when the moon was full, calling on their nonhuman blood.

It made them monsters - hungry, mindless killers.

Everyone knew that.

Bill made sure everyone knew that.

He watched the moonlight’s slow crawl along the small room until his eyes drifted shut and he dozed off, his tail flicking occasionally. Once the moon began to set in the morning, just as the sun rose, he’d be able to be a boy again. Until then, he could relax into the form he was far more comfortable in even if he had been painstakingly taught to fear what it was capable of.

He slept deeply enough to have fuzzy, formless dreams. He was beneath all of his family, trying to crawl out from under them. They called for him, cried for help, whined and whimpered and shouted and cursed.

The air was being slowly crushed out of him, and he desperately tried to get out from beneath the weight of their deaths, their memories.

He looked up to see straight down the barrel of Austin’s shotgun, the black within the metal circle, holding his death.

Found you, Austin said, softly. Time to go, Rusty.

Fingers touched the top of his head.

Misae?

He jolted awake and snapped out of sheer instinct, ears flat in a flash and teeth clicking together. He didn’t quite catch anything, but as his eyes opened, he saw Anaya looking down at him, eyes wide, her hand jerked back against her chest.

“Misae?” She repeated, voice a little shakier this time. She was wearing sleeping clothes, and Eden was just behind her, wearing only a pair of low-slung sweatpants that had Misae looking in jealousy at skin only scarred along the underside of his chest, two odd half-circle shapes that didn’t mean anything to Misae’s mind. “Holy shit.”

“DId he bite you?” Eden asked, an edge to his voice. “Anaya, if he bit you-... isn’t that how it-... it spreads?”

Misae curled up tighter, whimpering, his heart picking back up into a pounding race that made him dizzy. He tucked his tail as tightly as he could and looked up with his chin pressed against the floor, licking at his chops nervously.

“Naya? Did he-”

“No, he didn’t,” Anaya replied, frowning back at Eden, before dropping into a crouch. “And we don’t know that that's how it spreads, or whatever. Or even if it does spread. Who even knows what’s real and what isn’t about werewolves?”

“Before yesterday, I would have told you nothing is real about werewolves,” Eden said, hovering behind her.

“And you would have been wrong, wouldn't you. Besides, he was asleep. I woke him up, that’s on me, not him. Hey, Misae. Hey there, honey.” Her voice softened, and she shoved some of Misae’s barrier of boxes aside, until she could hold out her hand and lay it down with knuckles on floor and palm facing up, between them. “It’s okay, honey. It’s just me. Are you good? We were worried when we didn’t see where you’d gone. You were making some noise in here, I thought maybe something was wrong.”

Misae’s nose twitched. He eased forward, belly to the ground, until he could slowly lay his chin in her palm. She let one finger gently scratch at the soft fur there and he whined.

“He’s okay,” Anaya whispered. “I scared you, huh? You were having bad dreams, I bet. Don't blame you, this has been a really weird day. Just... the weirdest. Can I ask why you're here in the closet?”

“There’s a joke about being a closeted werewolf in there somewhere, but I’m honestly not awake enough to make it,” Eden said, but he moved back until he could sit on the bed. He didn’t quite relax, not yet, but the space helped Misae to feel a little safer. Eden didn’t look - or smell - angry.

“Oh, shut up,” Anaya said, rolling her eyes, but the corner of her mouth twitched into a smile. She wasn’t angry, either. “And don’t spend all night coming up with it, either. I don’t want to hear it when we wake up.”

“Well, now I have to come up with something. I have to come up with something and have it be the literal first thing I say to you when we wake up,” Eden teased, flopping himself backwards onto the bed and wriggling under the blankets, sighing happily when he was covered up. “Oh, this comforter weighs a ton. Perfect.”

“For someone who likes to sleep in the absolute wilderness like a caveman, you sure love a weighted blanket.” Anaya snorted.

"If I'm a caveman, that means you like a caveman." Eden grinned. "Ha ha, you're in love with a Neanderthal," He sing-songed. Anaya threw up a middle finger over her shoulder in his general direction, and Eden's smile only widened.

Misae wondered what a Nee-ander-tal was as his eyes flicked to the side, taking in the window, looking for the moonlight. To his relief, the curtains were closed.

The room was dark, now, except for a small lamp they’d turned on by the bed. There was no chance of the moon catching at his fur, calling him to hunt, to rip and tear and rend.

Misae pushed himself slowly onto his feet, ignoring his throbbing back leg. Anaya smiled at him, and it felt like a reward. His heart beat faster for new reasons, and he followed her as she eased back and away from the closet, pushing past the boxes.

When Anaya sat on the air mattress on the floor, Misae moved slowly onto it as well until he could lick at the corners of her mouth with his tail tucked underneath him. She laughed and pushed lightly at him, and he moved to lay on his side, paws curled to show her his stomach, baring his vulnerable throat.

“He likes you,” Eden commented idly from up on the bed. “Pretty sure that’s wolf for ‘you’re cool, let’s be buds.’ Also I think it means he thinks you're in charge."

"I am in charge," Anaya said, voice haughty, but there was laughter lining every word. "It's good that both you boys know it."

Misae shifted back onto his stomach and curled back up until his tail covered his nose. Anaya smiled at the sight, reaching out to scratch the top of his head. Misae sighed, eyes drifting closed again. He relaxed under the gentle affection. “There you go. All right, what matters is that you're okay. Let’s try to get some sleep, yeah? All three of us.”

He watched her stand up, ears drooping as she climbed into the real bed, next to Eden. He watched her get under the blanket, laying next to Eden. He laid on the floor where wolves belonged, missing the warmth of his family. Missing the den. Alone, here, on the ground. Werewolves weren't meant to be alone - he knew that, not from Bill or Austin but from how perfect it had felt in the den, in the kennels, when they were all together.

Anaya turned off the lamp, and darkness overtook the room.

The humans, he thought, would be blind in the dark. Misae could see everything, though. He could see the silvery moonlight held back by the curtains, could see Eden’s chest rise and fall, slowing as he slipped into sleep. He could see that Anaya stayed awake a while longer.

He listened to her breathing, holding back his whimpers until it slowed and deepened and he knew he wouldn't wake her. He could lay here, alone.

Well.

Not entirely alone.

His family was here, even if they weren’t. They would never leave him, not fully, not all the way. Even now he could feel them nosing around him trying to find a comfortable spot. He knew the pressure of their bodies around him like he knew his own paws. He could feel their chill breath on his neck, the soft nuzzle of affection that he would never really feel again. He could sense snuffles and whines, jostles for position that sometimes ended with playful snarling and rumbling growls. He could feel Nina’s weight on top of him. Feel her body jerk with the shots she had taken that he hadn’t. He could hear them, in his heart, howling just outside the little house.

He could hear their cries, begging him to join them. He should have slept for the last time in the big grave with the rest of them. He had been meant to die with his family. He wasn't the fastest in his family, the smartest, the best hunter. He wasn't anything better than anyone else.

There was no reason for him to survive, no special ability or way of being he had that made him deserve this bed with its soft blankets when everyone he loved was quiet and cold in the ground, covered in dirt and decomposing now.

He hadn’t deserved to meet kind humans. He didn’t deserve to eat pizza until his stomach ached and sit in chairs. He didn't deserve hot water to clean the dirt and blood from his skin. Others in his pack had deserved it so much more, and they had been given silver bullets instead, and now...

Now Misae was the only one left who remembered them.

He closed his eyes against the way the darkness wanted to change shape, to make him see his dead family with all the blood and bullets. He listened to their wistful, spectral howls, just outside the window. Calling and calling and calling, crying to him and to each other.

Why you? Why not us, instead? Why not the little pups, why not the mothers, why not the older wolves who had been good for so long? You were never all that good. What about you deserved to live? Why not us?

Why was it you?

Anaya and Eden slept together.

Misae slept with ghosts.

@finder-of-rings @burtlederp @deluxewhump @scoundrelwithboba @shrimpwritings

@yassifiedinformation @wildfaewhump @whatwhump @honeycollectswhump @tundra-tiger

@dont-look-me-in-the-eye @there-will-always-be-blood @fangedcinnamonroll @pigeonwhumps @yassifiedinformation

#bleeding by moonlight fic #whump #whump writing #escaped whumpee #runaway whumpee #caretakers and whumpee #internalized dehumanization #werewolf #werewolves #werewolf writing #werewolf fiction #original fiction #original story #urban fantasy #referenced mass murder #survivor's guilt #nightmares tw #referenced child abuse tw

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cora-of-the-reef · 3 months ago

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-What Cora would see a humanoid Shellipup walk in. He’s in great physical pain and can barely stand up right. He’s got blood all over his clothes- “𝔖-𝔖𝔒 𝔘𝔐- 𝔄ℜ𝔈 𝔐𝔜 𝔇𝔄𝔇’𝔖 𝔖-𝔖ℑ𝔖𝔗𝔈ℜ? ℑ- ℑ’𝔐 𝔄 𝔅𝔘𝔗 ℭ𝔒𝔑𝔉𝔘𝔖𝔈𝔇- 𝔘-𝔘ℌ ℑ𝔐 𝔊ℑ𝔐𝔏ℑ! ℑ- 𝔇𝔒𝔑’𝔗 𝔘𝔖𝔘𝔄𝔏𝔏𝔜 𝔏-𝔏𝔒𝔒𝔎 𝔏ℑ𝔎𝔈 𝔗ℌℑ𝔖-”

(Translation: S-so um- are you my dad’s s-sister? I- I’m a bit confused- U-uh I’m Gimli! I- Don’t usually l-look like this)

Goddesses above, what did they do to you?

-Cora walks over to Gimli-

I’m no healer but I can ease the pain at the least… though that won’t fix it

-Cora casts a spell on Gimli, allowing him to feel less pain than before. Cora takes Gimli’s arm and leads him to Rudith’s room-

Try not to speak too much, it could cause you to vomit more. We don’t want the crystals to cut you on the way up…

-She knocks on Rudith’s door-

(Ooc: @herbesandseafoam ur child has tummy ache. Help)

#cora rp #just role(play) with it #thunder sparks #tw blood #tw vomit #tw internal bleeding #Ooc: she’s from the undersea and knows a lot about Shellipups #this is why she’s able to guess what have and will happen

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serickswrites · 4 months ago

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No Trace

Warnings: captivity, restraints, torture, unconsciousness, rescue, blood, blood from the mouth, mcd, hurt/no comfort

Caretaker's whole body ached. Everything ached. Everything had been aching for so long, they weren't sure if it would ever stop aching. They had been hog tied for so long, their hands and feet had gone numb. Their back ached from being stretched the wrong way. Everything was pain.

Their pain didn't compare to Whumpee's though.

Caretaker couldn't see Whumpee. But they could hear Whumpee. Could hear every whimper, every cry of pain, and every single blow Whumper inflicted on them.

"It's going to be ok, Whumpee, someone will be coming for us soon," Caretaker had said hours ago when Whumper had left the two of them alone.

"Y-Y-Yeah?" Whumpee finally managed to rasp out. Their voice was so hoarse, no doubt their throat was painfully raw from all the screaming.

"Yeah. You just need to hold on. Someone will find us."

"I....I don'ttttt know. Hurtsssss."

Caretaker's heart hurt at the sound of despair in Whumpee's voice. "Don't lose hope, Whumpee. Someone will find us soon. I just know it."

Whumper had returned not that long after and had resumed torturing Whumpee. Caretaker had yelled and hollered at Whumper, but Whumper paid them no mind. They only had eyes for Whumpee.

The next time Whumper left, Whumpee hadn't responded to Caretaker. Caretaker knew Whumpee was still alive because they could still hear Whumpee's wheezing breaths. Perhaps Whumper had tortured them until they fell unconscious.

Caretaker hated the silence. It was painful. Painful as they waited and listened for Whumpee's next breath. Painful as they waited and hoped for help to arrive. And painful because there was nothing they could do but wait and hope.

The sound of the door banging open had Caretaker jumping. They had to get Whumper to hurt them. Had to get Whumper to give Whumpee a break. They had to. "ME!" They shouted. "Hurt me!"

"We're not here to hurt you," an unfamiliar voice came.

Relief flooded Caretaker in waves. They were saved. They were saved. Whumpee was saved. "Thank you. Thank you. Thank you," Caretaker repeated over and over. Whumpee was safe. Help was here. Help had arrived.

"My friend," Caretaker said as a pair of boots came into their field of vision, "how's my friend?"

The person knelt down. "Let's worry about getting you out of these ropes for now."

"Please, help my friend!" Caretaker tried to struggle, but they couldn't move.

"They're being helped, don't worry. Let me help you."

"Are they ok, please, tell me they're ok!" Caretaker said as their rescuer disappeared from their field of vision.

"Yes, they're fine. They're being helped. Are you hurt?"

Caretaker sagged with relief. Whumpee was being helped. Whumpee was going to be fine. "No. Not really."

Caretaker could hear boots thundering into the room. They tried to crane their neck to see what the commotion was, but their rescuer began to talk to them again. Caretaker answered all of their questions. Though the other rescuers were loud, it took all of Caretaker's concentration to answer their rescuer's questions.

"There you go, all free," the rescuer said as they cut through the last piece of rope keeping Caretaker down. "Move carefully, I imagine you've been tied up for a while."

Caretaker's limbs were on fire as feeling came back. They cried out with pain. "Are you sure you aren't injured? Let me check you out."

"I'm fine," Caretaker hissed. "Whumpee. I need to see Whumpee."

Before their rescuer could stop them, Caretaker quickly rolled over and began to crawl towards where they thought Whumpee was. They took a stumbling step as they rose. Whumpee. They wanted to see Whumpee.

Caretaker froze once they finally lifted their head and could see Whumpee. "NOOOOOOOO!" Caretaker screamed, their weak limbs nearly giving out.

Whumpee lay on the ground, arms splayed out to the sides. They were completely still and unmoving. Blood dried on their nostrils and ears, but was still wet on their lips. But what had Caretaker screaming, had Caretaker crawling their way over, was Whumpee's eyes. Whumpee's half-lidded, lifeless eyes.

One of the rescuers that had gathered by Whumpee peeled off, attempting to stop Caretaker. "You don't want to see them like this, let me--"

"I NEED TO SEE THEM!" Caretaker sobbed.

The rescuer nodded. "Let me help you over to them, then."

Caretaker was too weak to fight against the hands that helped them to stand. Too weak to fight as they were guided to Whumpee's side. And they were too weak to fight as they could finally see all of Whumpee.

"I'm so sorry," Caretaker sobbed as they took Whumpee's hand in theirs. Whumpee's fingers were cool and limp. "Please, Whumpee, please."

Caretaker turned to one of the rescuers. "Do something! Help them! Please, do something!"

One of them knelt down next to Caretaker, putting a gentle hand on their shoulder. "They succumbed to their injuries before we got here. There had to be massive amounts of internal bleeding. I'm so sorry."

Succumbed to their injuries before help arrived. Whumpee had died hours ago and Caretaker hadn't even known. Caretaker had lied to Whumpee. Had given Whumpee false hope. Had Whumpee died hopeful that help would arrive at any moment? Caretaker stared into Whumpee's empty eyes. There was no trace of Whumpee in those eyes.

"Where's Whumper?"

"They're gone. They left no trace. It's like they didn't even exist. If you weren't here, if Whumpee wasn't....well, like this, I would have guessed this place had been abandoned for years."

Gone. Whumper was gone. Whumpee was gone. Everything was gone. Caretaker squeezed Whumpee's fingers tightly. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry."

Tags: @mousepaw @jumpywhumpywriter @knightinbatteredarmor @hufflepuffwritingstuff2 @anightmarishwhump

@steh-lar-uh-nuhs @celestialsoyeon @st0rmm @ay5ksal @pedro-pedro-pedro-pedro-pe

@artisticdemon

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wellthisissomething · 3 months ago

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AI-Less Whumptober Day 28 - Internal Bleeding/Needle and Thread

Duel - Ep. 3

Kkondae Intern - Ep. 8

Fireworks of My Heart - Ep. 5

Seobok (2022)

Heavenly Idol - Ep. 6

Previous 28/31 Next

#whump #whump gifs #asian whump #ailesswhumptober2024 #ailesswhumptober day 28 #whump community #whump tropes #internal bleeding #stitches #needle and thread #tw blo0d #chinese drama #kdrama #injured #seobok #heavenly idol #fireworks of my heart #duel #kkondae intern

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t-errifier · 2 months ago

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survived my final shift in the pharmacy

#i fought with this old lady who works there then she thought her mother died so she left #and i gave her a hug & told her i hope everything is ok - what a real turn of events #ℕ𝕆 𝕆ℕ𝔼 𝕄𝔸𝕂𝔼𝕊 𝕀𝕋 𝕆𝕌𝕋 𝔸𝕃𝕀𝕍𝔼 / out of character.#smoking tw #family death tw #death tw #( her mother did not pass away she is just having internal bleeding & is suffering severely rn )#medical tw

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whumpetywhump · 11 months ago

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The Sign - Ep. 8

#the sign #thai drama #bleeding #internal bleeding #blood from the mouth #stabbed #sort of #self sacrifice #human shield #collapse #cradled #parting words #crying #tw death #billy patchanon #babe tanatat #whump #thai whump #asian whump

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angel-dust-addict · 2 years ago

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@radi0activesmile continued from here.

Alastor didn't understand. That didn't surprise Angel, really, but it did frustrate him. Alastor did not understand. He didn't understand how this worked, he didn't understand how Val worked, he didn't understand Angel's history with the other overlord. That wasn't surprising. But it was frustrating.

"Damnit, Al, that's not the point." The comment didn't come out sounding sharp or angry. Rather, there was just an unspeakable fatigue in Angel's voice. A sort of exhaustion that went clean to the bone. "I know what Val's like. I been wit' tha bastard fa' almost 50 years. Ya really think this's tha first time he's pulled this shit? Nah, babe. He's done this a few times. He gets pissed 'cause I'm gettin' too independent'r some shit, so he reminds me'a my place. I gotta go back, toe tha line a little, show 'im I've learned my lesson... He still ain't gonna be happy wit' me, but if I show 'im I rememba' who owns me, he'll leave me tha hell alone. Much as he eva' does, anyway."

Finally he looked up at Alastor. When he did, there was no anger in his expression. He just looked tired and stressed. "I don't want'cha involved. Not any more'n ya already are. I know ya ain't weak. That ain't tha point. I don't wanna be tha reason ya get hurt. I don't want'cha puttin' yerself in danger if ya don't gotta."

His miserable gaze dropped back to the bubbles. "'Sides, it's safa' fa' me, too. He'll just get pissed if I don't show. An' that'd basically be tellin' him I ain't learned a damn thing."

And that he might not survive. If Val thought he had lost control of Angel, the moth would kill him. It was that simple. He was much more valuable to Val alive, but not if Val couldn't control him.

"This ain't even tha worst thing he's eva' done." That comment was almost too quiet to hear. "'S betta' ta just keep 'im happy 'til we figuah out how ta get rid of him."

He didn't want to think about what else Val had done to him in order to maintain control. That was too much to think about, especially right now. He knew Alastor wouldn't like being told no. But it was safer to tell the stag no than to try to tell Val no.

So he would go back. He would go back and he would play his part and they would figure out how to kill the moth. But for now, he had to go back. Whether or not Alastor thought he should or not. This was not a fight he wanted to have, but it was also a risk he did not want to take.

#radi0activesmile #v: happy hazbin #cv: red bleeding blue #chained #tw: abuse #tw: violence #tw: rape #tw: assault #cw: abusive relationship mention #tw: internalized victim blaming #dead dove do not eat

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erabundus · 1 year ago

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rolling around the idea that when he sustains severe injuries, there's a chance you may actually glimpse tiny flashes of electro emanating from the wound as ren's body acts to repair the damage. it doesn't happen often — only in situations wherein the trauma is extensive enough to expose his inner workings. visually, it isn't unlike sparks shooting from a malfunctioning machine.

#𝟎𝟎𝟒 : 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘴𝘢𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘴𝘰 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥. ◟ hc .◝#body horror tw #( ironically it's actually a good thing because it means he is healing from the wounds )#( it's like the opposite of him bleeding purple )#( ren bleeding purple = his internal power source has been damaged and the bleeding needs to be stopped immediately )#( ren fizzling like purple pop rocks = everything is working as intended )#( on another note!! hi hello i've been training at a new job for the past couple weeks and i'm FINALLY done tomorrow!! )#( so i should have much more time to write moving forward!! )

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friendlylocalwhumper · 1 year ago

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whumptober alt. prompt no. 2: aftermath of failure

“Please, ple-, please, I can’t…” Chapped lips rasp out the faint, desperate words. Tear-beaded lashes flutter slowly. Quinn’s chin wobbles as they try to keep pleading, but can’t find the breath to.

Scar-ridged hands swipe over Quinn’s body quickly, harshly, healing magic seeking out the worst of the damage. They arch up when he presses on their stomach and finds tension that shouldn’t be there. Internal bleeding is bad, especially if they’re already pale and breathing weakly and crying from the pain.

Across the room, Tank lies vulnerable, too, rolling the back of his skull back and forth on the ground. His arms are limp under misshapen shoulders, one of his hips jutting out wrong, his chest purpling from busted ribs. He howled so loudly with each injury that Major’s head is still throbbing. If Major listens very closely, he can hear his big boyfriend moaning deep in his throat.

The brushing at Major’s hip distracts him, and his hands fall from Quinn as he turns to see that it’s Remy’s fingers brushing up against him, reaching feebly. Those big, kind eyes are full of fear, but not recognition. Blood drips down Remy’s cheek from his nose, from the corners of his eyes, from his ears. It sticks his back to the floor, too. Remy healed everyone, healed as much as he could, accepting the lashes from the whip as he went just for the chance to help his friends. Eventually he ran out of magic, and with that exhaustion came the blindness, the bleeding, the frigid skin and fading hearing.

Riku and Sonia lie in a pile where they were trying to protect each other. Sonia fought well, even better than Tank did, but when one of their captors lit up a cigarette, something in her posture changed and she got sloppy, got easier to pin. Major didn’t see what was done to the girls, but they’re being quiet and still and it’s freaking him the fuck out.

The burns across his body hurt, hurt a lot, but he almost feels numb to them right now as he sits heavily and looks over each friend, thoughts slow and jumbled. He just doesn’t know what to do.

Soft fingers keep knocking against his side. They find a shredded sleeve and tug on it, trying to pull him closer. Major jerks away from Remy’s touch, stomach flipping with guilt.

“Please,” Croaks the healer who lost his sight and hearing and too much blood from being too generous. Major slams his hands over his ears and squeezes his eyes shut, knees folding up to his chest.

He can still hear Quinn’s low weeping, and how it’s getting more and more feeble. He can hear Tank’s near-silent whines - he won’t even ask for healing, he doesn’t want anyone else to get hurt for him. The girls are too quiet, the captors are gone but not for long, and Remy’s still grasping at him.

The downed healer says something. Major growls in frustration and slides his hands up into his hair to pull on it, tugging frizzy locks in opposite directions. It makes his headache worse.

“...for me,” Continues his soft, drained boyfriend. Remy’s voice is cracking. “Ignore the - can you hear me? The pain. The, if anyone’s d-, dead… look for what’s gotta get fixed, now.”

Major tugs harder and grimaces through the burning of his scalp. Hits the side of his own head once, twice, trying to make his brain work.

Remy has found Major’s thigh and has laid his palm on it. “Bleeding out, cracked skull, ribs bending wrong, internal bleeding.” He’s rubbing Major’s leg in small swipes of his thumb. “Look at who has that.”

Reluctantly, the overwhelmed healer looks over at each body, reading tension and amount of blood spilled and varying levels of consciousness. Tank’s in so much pain, he deserves to be fixed up first, he always gets fucked up so bad protecting everyone - but Quinn’s stomach is full of blood and they’re fading, it looks like - but Riku, Sonia, are they dead or just halfway there?

He reaches down and snatches up Remy’s hand, crushing it in an anxious grip. Remy’s face crumples with discomfort and sympathy. “Weakest breaths, then.”

Instead of looking around, Major closes his eyes and listens, now. Quinn’s breathing is pretty bad. Tank’s is choppy with pain. Riku’s is quiet but even with focus. Sonia’s - he can’t hear it.

Remy’s hand is thrown aside, Quinn shoved out of the way as Major throws himself onto his feet and then skids to his knees beside the pile of two girls. Rough, impatient hands tear Riku up and back, violently unwrapping her arms from around the smaller girl. Riku whines in stress but can’t resist being manhandled, clutching at the stab wounds down her thighs.

Curled up on the floor is Sonia, short black hair ruffled, knuckles swollen, ankle twisted. Her eyes are closed and her chest is still.

He shoves two fingers up under her jaw, presses a palm over her heart, checks if her skin’s still warm. The heartbeat is weak, and… her body jolts once, weakly. An unconscious, spasmodic attempt to breathe. He yanks her jaw down, reaches down unflinchingly to try to find an obstruction in her throat, but there is none. She doesn’t react to him searching. Flustered with distress, aware that her brain could be taking damage already, he just plants one hand on her throat, the other over her lungs, and pours out the first burst of healing magic that he’s dared to use here.

The magic is soaked into her throat, tugged in by the injury, and he figures out after a second that something in there broke. The trachea or whatever. She was strangled, and everyone was too busted up or busy taking their own beating to save her.

“Fuck,” Mutters the healer, and he focuses fully on fixing the small bone. It’s less than a minute before her body rocks, tenses, and then she coughs once before sucking down a ragged breath. Her blue-tinged lips go purple.

If he’d waited another minute, if Remy didn’t help him figure out… he has to keep working, fast. Major leaves Sonia curling up on her side and choking out confused sobs, not even bothering to get to his feet, instead crawling in a wild rush to get back to Quinn. Like Remy said, internal bleeding. His hands press down over the tense stomach and pour in magic to close internal wounds, seal up organs, redirect blood where it should go. Quinn tries and fails to scream with the deep ache of it.

His own nose itches. Major swipes at it with the back of his hand and finds blood. As soon as Quinn’s stomach feels squishy like it should and they’re trying to form words, he abandons them and goes to Tank.

He didn’t even see the shape of Tank’s face from over there. Crooked jaw, crushed eye socket. It looks like he can barely breathe around the trickle of blood down his throat. One eye blinks blearily up at Major, but he doesn’t reach for his boyfriend.

Scarred hands pour out healing magic until the jaw thunks back into place, and the eye socket takes on its old shape, and the left shoulder uncrunches, and the right shoulder pops into its joint, and the hip grinds slowly until it too can be shoved back into its place. It’s odd that Tank isn’t screaming, howling in the thunderous way he did earlier. Major’s cloudy eyes flick up to inspect his boyfriend’s face, only to find that it is stretched in a scream.

A cold, twitching hand rises to feel at his own ear, and comes away bloody. Major backs away from his latest victim and swipes again, paranoid, only to find more blood dripping down from his earlobe.

Movement in the corner of his vision catches his eye, and he finds Remy trying to rise, stuck to the floor by his bloody flayed back. Nausea settles heavily in his gut and Major crawls over, slower than before, to grab his other boyfriend by the shoulders and pin him, healing him simultaneously. The golden light flows down to mend Remy’s back, and there again Major sees screaming that he can’t hear. Remy can’t hear it, either. Nearby, Quinn flinches from the sound.

Blood splatters on Remy’s cheek. For a horrifying moment Major wonders if somehow his skin was punctured from the inside as if there were an alien infesting Remy’s body. But then another small splatter appears, and he realizes his nose feels clogged. Still bleeding from there, then. At least Rem’s almost unstuck from the floor, almost able to get up and cower if he needs to.

Pain explodes in his back, and with an undignified screech that he can’t hear, Major collapses onto Remy. He’s dragged off and flipped over to gasp and blink up at the guy standing over him with a crowbar.

They can’t be back for more already. Everyone was almost dead. Major tosses his head side to side to watch as the other captors find each of his friends where they lie and drag them up, or start a new beating, or pin them to the floor. He might be yelling, might be cursing, he’s not sure. His throat aches already from whatever he’s doing in protest, but it’s hard to tell if it’s coming out coherent at all. The end of the crowbar rests against the underside of his jaw, and Major falls silent, aware of just how easily that dense metal could turn his head into soup.

He can’t hear anyone being hurt, can’t quite see the new damage with the new fuzzy dark spots floating in his vision, but as the crowbar is raised over him, Major knows that all that healing was pointless. He didn’t save anyone.

#whumptober2023 #no.30 #aftermath of failure #oc #writing #gore tw #near death tw #broken bones tw #internal bleeding tw #loss of senses tw #quinn #major #riku #sonia #tank #mine #captivity #torture

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