#tw:injuries

[untoldsoup]

This is Chapter Three part TWO! Please read chapters one, two and 3 (part one) FIRST!

Note: any derogatory comments about Mario being a little person will get deleted and you will be blocked.

PLEASE READ TAGS

Tags: tw:cartoon violence /tw:(mild) body horror/ tw:blood/ tw: injuries/ tw: minor character in danger/ tw: verbal abuse of a minor character/ tw: manipulation/ tw: major character death/ tw: minor character death/ tw:death threats

So happy I managed to get this update out on schedule. Thank you all for being patient waiting two months between updates, these pages take time! Anyway, this is the end of the flash back, we will be back to the present with the next chapter! And well, things are heating up, as you can see :)

I spent a lot of time on this, so if you like it, let me know! thank you all for reading :)

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Previous: chapter 3(part 1)

Next: chapter four part one

Start from the beginning Here!

This is a sequel, please read "Change" comic first!

[chtozaepta]

I have no patience and I am going to post one of AyrreAmyrre’s main characters because I love him to bits

And I’m so done with hoarding all the sketches without sharing them just because his design might be a minor spoiler

Here he is, the man, the legend, the dragon slayer, who got a bit too close to the dragon for his own good. I mean, what are the chances of engaging in a fight with a huge fire breathing lizard and remain unharmed right? Don’t judge him, he tried his best.

[spymeister]

»

--

It had taken two more strikes before the accursed creature had decided to go down. Four holes in total litter the tunnelrat's chassis- though no one of them are particularly life-threatening. Energon is already clotted and blocking the wounds- keeping the frame from bleeding out.

The viruses, of course, are making short work of formidable firewalls- pushing the other's defensive systems to the limit. He smirks quietly, watching each twitch and flinch of the slack faceplates as the corruptive programs worm their way. He allows himself to stretch up from the crouch he'd been in, dorsal appendage with its payload of venom and viruses swaying in the injection bulb above.

A secondary set of arms- ending in thick claws rest on his hips, while his primary set pull out a rather archaic, if intricate datapad. The messages, with their resulting viruses, have been sent- and read. Said viruses are weak, but they'll be enough to induce some paranoia.

Enough to make things chaotic for a while. Enough to let him do what he needs to do.

Enough to bring about the fruition of over twelve million years worth of plans.

Around him, the carnage of another war and another time drapes here and there- the scent of death faint, but still present. He soaks it in, idly observing the charred remains to see if he could possibly scavenge them for use.

He smiles to himself as the faintest ping of an old familiar presence makes itself known.

"Now," he murmurs softly, melodiously- to no one in particular. "The game begins."

[muse-legion]

Closed starter for: @moondustlings

Recently, he returned from another brutal skirmish with an encroaching gang that dared to threaten his turf —a cut above his eyebrow stung fiercely as a reminder of just how high the stakes were in their deadly game. Now, bruised yet unyielding, he pushed through the front door, only to be met with the surreal sound of laughter and music echoing against grimy walls—an unexpected Halloween party unfolding amidst the chaos. He’d grumbled when Alessa first proposed he act as her bodyguard for this frivolous affair. As flesh-toned vampires danced alongside ghoulish figures draped in tattered costumes, Bruno’s intense gaze drifted over crowded faces until it fell upon Alessa herself, radiant and intoxicating even behind her expertly crafted costume. The contrast between their worldliness clashed sharply—the eerie cheeriness against himself crippled with anger, waiting for fallout after today’s fight underlined everything wrong about where they both stood now together.

Guests weaved around him; oblivious to the real horror lurking within Bruno: fresh wounds adorned his skin like macabre badges from shattered allegiances, dispersed down back alleys only hours ago. He overheard guests gushing about what they assumed was fake blood, smeared across his forearm and chest—unaware this wasn’t merely makeup but proof painted dangerously bold in crimson hues, marking a victory of his own. Despite the injuries, he stood tall as he pushed through the crowd; his head held high and his expression didn’t falter for a second. Once he reached Alessa, cold baby blues intensely pierced through her own. “A Halloween Party? Really? What’s next? Going trick or treating?” Rhetorical questions uttered more to himself in passing, though he couldn’t help a slight roll of his eyes. Just what I needed. Bruno thought to himself, before he made his way towards the bathroom, entirely unbothered by the onlooking audience.

Once he finally reached his quarters, he closed the bathroom door behind his back without locking it properly, though he didn’t think it was necessary. For one, none of the guests would dare to cross the area available for public use and second off, there was enough security around to stop them if they did try anyway. Besides, everyone seemed to be busy indulging in the festivities to even notice he’d disappeared to attend to his wounds. — but he obviously didn’t count on an ever so persistent Alessa. “Don’t you have guests to entertain?” He asked in a rather curious tone of voice, trying to rid himself of her presence so he could get the bullet out of his sides, which was still stuck between his ribs.

[muse-legion]

He learned early on to navigate a world rife with betrayal and violence. Bruno watched blood spill as easily as wine during celebratory banquets—scenes etched into his memory that left him hardened but ever-watchful. Nothing shocked him anymore; surprise was a luxury he couldn't afford amid whispered secrets and looming threats. Hence, when Yaz staggered into his dimly lit sanctuary, shot and reeking of desperation, he merely arched an eyebrow at her audacity to seek refuge here—of all places.

"Yaz," he teased lightly, as she slumped against the wall gasping for breath from excruciating pain only partially masked by adrenaline. "You really should pick better spots to get shot." His voice held a mix of mirth and skepticism; how could someone so recklessly approach him? But deep down where sympathy intertwined with pragmatism lay remnants of kinship forged through past fights side by side on gruesome nights just like this one. "Probably for the same reason I wouldn't call them?!" Without hesitating further, Bruno sprang into action; years spent acquiring medical knowledge within darkened hospital corners, serving desperate criminals primed him for such situations better than any standard doctor’s practice would have allowed. Handing her whiskey first—a blend of concern laced with authority—he got straight to work. “This might sting." He warned her briefly, before he started to clean the wound. " And by the way, you really have to work on your manners and the way you're asking for help -- or else someone actually is going to let you bleed out next time.”

"Because yours was closer," Yaz countered with the best grin she could muster, given the circumstances. Swallowing thickly, trying to keep her composure despite the pain that shot through her every nerve. Vision doubled as she tried to focus on his frame. "Well, I got shot, and if you don't decide to help me any time soon, I might end up bleeding out, so please continue asking me more idiotic questions. Do you want to know why I didn't call the police?"

[osatokun]

Decided to put some of the Cairo chronicle pictures together! We're playing since march and I managed to make quite a few illustrations!~

For people who aren't familiar to my art - hi, hello, good day! I'm Osato ( Ghost Osa) and I play Vampire the Masquerade a lot. It's been almost 3 years since I created my first vampire, a new experience for me as I usually played female or agender characters, Charlie, 40 something years old insane but creepy sweet malkavian. During the first year of playing he met his love, a changeling Glinda-Sophia Dequir ( she is an npc) , and later on married her during the game. Current game takes place 5 years after the first game, with another Storyteller, and they are on the hunt, aiming to kill a "god" who once harmed their adopted daughter ( and many others) They also adopted 2 changelings and made one cat son! (also they are creepy creatures, not as sweet and cute)

[callme-harris]

Location: Oasis Night Club

Status: Open

@aurorabaystarter

Harris’ injury had been a bit worse than he had expected, but considering his last on he had; he had a tendency to undersell how bad things were now. The doctors had recommended he rest and be gentle with his left arm and shoulder as it healed. And yet there he was not long after standing in his usual spot in front of Oasis. His arm in a sling as he leaned against the wall. He still wanted to go to work cause he liked being out of the house, but he was still gonna take it easy. “ Don’t get any funny idea’s. There’s bouncers with two working arms that can handle any bullshit in there. I’m just manning the door tonight “

[aysun-demir]

It was right around shift change, which meant the nurses were all occupied with giving and receiving report. She'd heard a patient in the room across from hers calling out for warm blankets that she knew from experience wouldn't come for another half an hour yet. The first time she tried to ignore it, shift change also meaning she wouldn't get her top up on pain meds for a little while. Days of overexerting herself instead of resting was finally starting to weigh on her, the pain starting to set in. But by the third time she heard the person call out, she was swinging her legs out of her bed with a little grimace. Aysun was familiar enough with the unit to know where the warm blankets were kept, and luckily none of the nurses saw her as she went from the supply room to the patient room to drop them off. As soon as she stepped out of the room, she had to pause, leaning her good hand against the wall to steady herself against the sudden rush of lightheadedness.

She was just contemplating whether she had it in her to make the short walk to her room when she saw someone approach from the corner of her eye. "Oh. H-Hello, um, your...Highness...?" she stuttered out, not quite sure how she was meant to address the Fae Queen and not really composed enough to think too much on it. "I'm...terribly sorry to ask but...do you think you could help me back to my room...?"

@nyraxodeyer

[aysun-demir]

"A wide bore needle in your vein is hardly a needle prick, and even if you don't care about getting blood on your things, we can perhaps have some consideration for the hospital staff who will have to clean and disinfect after you." The words were softly spoken, hardly confrontational by anyone's standards, but it was a far cry from her usual passive nature. In another circumstance his tone would've been enough to have her high-tailing it out of there with a mumbled apology, but being stuck in the hospital and being in pain was making even her a little testy. So she couldn't imagine how Song was faring. Blowing out a breath, Aysun stepped away from him, leaning heavily against a nearby cabinet. "Someone down the hall...they were calling out for water, I- the unit is swamped, the nurses are busy, and she's been asking for a while and I just- I couldn't...ignore her," she answered with a little shrug as she adjusted her sling. "I'm guessing you're leaving AMA...?"

"Eh, I have others," He shrugged her worried gaze off. Only for another sigh to break from his lips as he watched her attempt to open the drawer with her cast. "Aysun," He groaned out as she made her way over to him. "Stop. I know how to bandage myself up and, even if I didn't, we both know a needle prick hardly needs a bandaid. It will heal on its own and stop bleeding in a couple minutes," He point out. Yes, the smaller pricks tended to be the ones that bled more for some reason, but it was no more than a paper cut and, compared to his other wounds, was hardly the one to be fretting over. "Yeah. Home. Should I ask why you are up and about rather than doing what you ask your patients to do?" He countered with a curve of his brow.

[noriseyebrow]

I'm a bit tired/frustrated. This weekend has just been an absolute disaster. My mum's partner apparently lay on his floor unable to get up all night/day so the cops had to come. I felt sick so called in sick on Saturday, only to be texted by the boss to ask where I was. So now I'm worried I won't get paid. We did sort it out but still. I feel really bad because I'd NEVER just not turn up. THEN my friend asks to stop playing 2 games we play every week so I struggle with my abandonment issues (always do) all I hear is the 'I don't want to do the thing with you anymore' AND finally I get a text from my flatmate to say that my other flatmate/her tested positive for COVID and I take the test this morning and I HAVE COVID. Because her brother went out socializing and got COVID and gave it to all of us. I already have health issues. I think I'm gonna make some Cats 1998 gifs now so who are your favourite Cats and why?

[cozza-frenzy]

VENT ART UNDER THE CUT TRIGGER WARNINGS IN TAGS

I'll be good this time I promise I'll be different this time I promise I'll be stronger this time I promise Until it's not enough And it's always Never enough. I'm nothing special, and neither were they. In the end, we didn't make the cut.

[muse-legion]

After years of hard work and rigorous training, he finally achieved his dream—becoming a firefighter at Station 21. It was there that Jordan thrived; responding to emergency calls fueled his adrenaline but also came with its share of physical confrontations with danger. No one told him how much being a true hero would hurt. Scars grew from burns as naturally as they formed in his heart, whenever he lost someone on duty. While most injuries were patched up quickly at the hospital after particularly grueling shifts, this time fate intervened cruelly late at night, when some stitches reopened unexpectedly, following an incident during a massive warehouse fire earlier that day. Pain throbbed through Jordan’s side like the pulsating alarm bells signaling another emergency call—a stark reminder of both responsibility and vulnerability entwined in every firefighter's existence. His first instinct was to head straight for the hospital; however, it was after hours, and traffic along the main street would only delay him further amid flimsy promise of quick aid. In desperation—and perhaps out of sheer stubbornness—he decided instead to reach out to Nathan. Now sitting in the other man’s bathroom, he groaned through his gritted teeth at the stinging pain. “Someone’s set the old warehouse down the road on fire. We got it under control but it took a while. I was just on my way out when the ceiling came crashing down on me.”

And there was Nathan once again. He was sitting in the bathroom, having Jordan quiet sitting on the toilet as he slowly and careful took care of some of the man's wounds. Dating… I mean, Nathan didn't know if they were yet dating, there was no asking yet, but they had been seeing each other for awhile now, so Nathan didn't mind being the one taking care of some small wounds the man had, he didn't ask exactly what happened, focusing on cleaning it up and checking if it wasn't any serious before asking anything. But as he was almost close to finishing it, he looekd up at him. "So, are you telling me what happened?" He asked. Nate was not the best with guessing people's emotions, his whole life had been stuck inside of a room playing games, so this thing was news for him.

@muse-legion

[ohghxst]

— dear all nations, OSKAR ASULF has crossed the city borders to edinburgh to the sound of DAYLIGHT by DAVID KUSHNER. the CLAN MEMBER of HALVEN MADSEN CLAN is known to be AGAINST making peace. HE reminds me of BLOOD STAINED TEETH, AND SCARS OF BATTLE STITCHED ACROSS SKIN; THE SMELL OF COAL AND IRON however did you know that DURING ONE OF THE RAIDS, OSKAR SPARED/SAVED A GIRL BY HIDING HER UNDER DEBRIS. HE IS ALSO FOR MAKING PEACE BUT FEARS HE WILL LOSE HIS PURPOSE IN LIFE ?

tw: death, illness mentioned, injury

[        statistics        ]        ⸻

full  name  :    oskar asulf

nicknames  :    os

age  :  29   

gender  +  pronouns  :    male  he/him  

orientation  :    heterosexual

[        appearance        ]        ⸻

height  :    6'0

hair    colour  :    brown

eye    colour  :    deep blue

dominant    hand  :    left

distinguishing    scars  :    small  scar  underneath  his  left  eye, many deep scars that run along his left leg from when they had to cut the arrows from his leg.

brown usually in some sort of braid. the only time it's not is when he is getting ready for bed. since getting injured now has a slight limp to his walk, he refuses to a cane. wears a scorn look on his face for the majority of time. tattoos decorate his body, one on each shoulder.

[        background        +        family        ]        ⸻

birthdate:  january  9th

rank  :  strategist, viking

mother  :    astrid asulf (deceaed)  

father  :    ubbe asulf  (deceased)

sibling(s)  :  n/a  

[        introduction        ]        ⸻

amidst  a  frigid  blizzard,  you  made  your  grand  entrance  into  this  world,  unleashing  chorus  of  cries  that  echoed  through  the  night.  your  arrival  was  not  without  its  challenges,  for  it  came  at  a  great  cost  -  the  life  of  you  dear  mother.  your  father,  once  a  loving  man,  became  distant  and  cold.  he  was  present  only  at  meal  times,  until  you  grew  tall  and  strong  enough  to  wield  a  weapon.  

warriors  ran  in  your  blood,  a  legacy  passed  down  from  your  father's  father's  father.  he  was  legend,  or  so  the  stories  went.  and  your  father  was  determined  to  carry  on  that  legacy  through  you.  he  trained  you  relentlessly,  never  once  praising  you  unless  you  were  perfect.  but  perfection  was  an  impossible  standard  in  his  eyes.  

when  your  father  fell  ill  and  passed  away  on  your  nineteenth  birthday,  you  were  left  to  fend  for  yourself.  you  joined  the  halven  madsen  clan  in  their  raids  on  england,  ,  not  for  the  sake  of  land  ownership,  but  for  the  thrill  of  battle.  fighting  was  all  you  knew,  thanks  to  your  father,  and  thanks  to  him,  you  were  a  force  to  be  reckoned  with.  

but  you  were  not  just  a  fearsome  warrior  on  the  field.  you  were  a  clever  one  too.  when  a  few  sharp  arrows  found  their  way  into  your  leg,  your  career  as  a  soldier  shifted,  you  became  a  strategist,  or  perhaps  you  were  already  one,  planning  not  just  the  next  five  moves  but  the  next  twenty.  though  you  now  walk  with  a  limp,  and  cannot  participate  in  battles  as  much,  you  are  far  from  an  easy  target.  

you  were  raised  to  be  nothing  more  than  a  warrior  and  a  warrior  you  shall  die  

[        hooks        ]        ⸻

it's been just bit over 7 months since his injury. while normally a grumpy person, his leg sometimes throbs  in excruciating pain making him in an even worst mood.

has always been one to outsmart his opponent. yes, brute force works just as well, but seeing the look of disbelief of being outdid on enemies brings a smile to his face.

is aware of the amount of hate he has gained over the years, and does not care.  

is only soft toward animals and very, and i mean very, few people. would rather be alone.

being raised for one purpose, oskar doesn't know what his plans are for the future should there be peace. secretly, he wishes for peace, but what does someone who smells of war do in times of peace?  

[ducitestella]

● – || @tragidies continued from HERE.

● – || He would apologize a thousand times over for separating from Karen . He [ [ p r o m i s e d ] ] he wouldn't , and swore to Karen that no matter what happened that they wouldn't be far apart . It was a promise he broke , but it wasn't his fault . The battle separated them , took them far from one another's sight . The entire time Fubuki fought and [ [ d e f e n d e d ] ] himself , ignoring his own injuries to focus on keeping those around him safe .

When it all subsided did he [ [ f i n a l l y ] ] make his way back to Karen . Out of the corner of his eyes he could see the blood on his clothes . A few cuts here and there , one on his cheek , but nothing too deadly . . . that he noticed .

" I didn't mean to get separated from you . . . I promise . I - . . ."

As he lifted his arm to rest on top of Karen's he winced , curling a cold , gloved hand into Karen's uniform . His other hand remained on his side . Something was bleeding . He'd be fine . He [ [ h a d ] ] to be fine . He didn't want Karen to worry that something wasn't fine . He was worried enough that they got separated .

" I- I'm sorry . . . it will not happen again . "

Fubuki looked down at himself at his side then lifted his deep , crimson-brown eyes to Karen . Even from beneath his light grey bangs , he couldn't lie . His face would show it before he uttered the words . Instead of saying anything , he lifted his bloody , gloved hand into Karen's line of vision as he leaned his forehead onto Karen's shoulder .

It was just a little cut . . . Or , that's what he was telling himself .

Please don't panic . . .

[muse-legion]

Special Agent Caleb King was known for his sharp instincts and meticulous approach to every case presented to him. He had always seemed destined for law enforcement; his father was a local sheriff, instilling in him a deep sense of duty and justice. Graduating with honors from the FBI Academy, Caleb earned a reputation as one of the best agents on the organized crime task force. His ability to read people like an open book helped crack numerous cases that stumped even seasoned professionals. While charismatic on the surface, he maintained an unsettling air of calculated detachment, which both impressed and intimidated his peers.

One fateful evening marked a turning point in Caleb's life: during what should have been just another routine bust on a suspected drug syndicate, everything went horribly wrong. The intel had been too clean—too perfect—and as soon as they descended upon their target location with his team in tow, they were ambushed by heavily armed associates waiting in hiding. Gunfire erupted all around them before any warning could be given; chaos reigned supreme while Caleb fought valiantly alongside his squad members but fell victim to scheming tactics laid by someone inside their own ranks. In the midst of firefights and frantic maneuvers through merciless alleys, it became clear that this wasn’t merely an operation gone awry—it was betrayal lurking behind every corner.

Just when escape seemed impossible and hope began fading along with blood pooling beneath him from wounds suffered during combat, Logan appeared and somehow managed to get him out of this seemingly hopeless situation. Surprised by the unexpected help, Caleb glanced up at the other whilst watching him attend to his wounds. “How did you know?” A suspicious tone of voice cracked through heavy breaths as he tried to remain calm. “No, I’m fine I guess. Didn’t know you worked in the medical field. What else is there I should know of?”

A Trap

starter for @muse-legion (Logan and Caleb)

This was so very unlike Logan, Logan was loyal and he did care about his family and men. He considered the people who worked for his family as family and did everything in his power to help them. He valued loyalty because that was one of the many trait he had that he showed and carried. To his surprise he found himself at this location helping the other. He had known Caleb was a spy and so he wondered why he had risked it and tried to help and save the other from a trap. This was not like Logan maybe there was something more to it. Logan was not someone who took risk easily, he was not too much ruled by his emotions and there was no way he would try to help someone who was trying to take him and his family down.

Logan was also someone who did not do feeling, he had always thought that he was unable to love and that he did not have a heart because he never loved anyone like that but here he was. His actions illogical and ruled by emotions. He tried so hard to denial that he had fallen for the other. He sighed as he had helped the other taken off their shirt and applied the last Band-Aid to their wound. One could sense the tension between them, it was finally at it's boiling point ready to explode at any moments. "There, thankfully your wounds are not bad and I do have some medical training," he spoke as he looked at the male for a moment and looked into their eyes.

"Thankfully my brother's forced medical training comes in handy," he spoke to himself in a low voice. "Does anything else hurt?" he asked looking and observing the male for any other injuries. Unaware his hands were on their chest.

[imagine-all-the-elves]

Imagine Tauriel cuddling you in her arms after you've been gravely injured.

Author: @thatkgrl