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kudossi · 8 months

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Hello! Kudossi! Quick question, where do you find your fanfic chapter names? They're so aesthetic, and I need something for mine. So, that's why this ask exists. Feel free to delete! I don't mind.

I never get asks, so you've made my week, actually! Thank you so much for your question! Apologies for not getting to this sooner — I took an eight foot fall onto hard-packed dirt about a month ago and have been recovering since.

Anyway! Your question! My titles! I'm so pleased you like them. Really, maybe I should say this has made my month. That would be more accurate. :)

A lot of them are just things I've come up with myself (you will blaze like fire (and lack the oxygen to keep yourself burning); until the stars blink out; the moon glows softly tonight, my dear; etcetera).

The others are mostly carefully-chosen song lyrics! I pick particularly often from Fleet Foxes (through the forest, down to your grave; you will lift his body from the shore; i've met the myth hanging heavy over you; etcetera)

and Lord Huron (haunted by the letters of your name; to chase the sunlight mile after mile; let the rivers guide you in; etcetera).

Chapter names often come from some of my other favorite bands (Rainbow Kitten Surprise, Bear's Den, Everything Everything, etcetera), and though I love them, too, I avoid using some because of oversaturation (The Oh Hellos, Hozier, The Crane Wives, etcetera). I keep a list I update yearly where I track my favorite music and bands and such, as well as my top three songs from each. I call it Kudossi's Heckin' Good Music List [year]. Right now I can only find 2021's somehow, but I am recovering from severe injury, so I'm going to give myself a break on that one, lol.

Let me know if you'd like a full list or anything! I'm always happy to be able to help out where I can.

In related news, while I've been having a lot of health problems, I am deep into writing several works that should soon appear on my AO3 (also called kudossi) and have several starts to shorter works that I usually post here, so follow me there/stay tuned here for more warrior cats fic!

I'd also like to take this moment to thank everyone for being so kind. It makes me so happy to know that people enjoy what I write. <3

And thank you especially, @random-multifandom-nightmare, for sending an ask! It really does mean a lot to me. I hope this helped — please feel free to reach back out if you have any other questions!!

#not writing #ask #title name inspiration #brief mention of injury #song lyric titles #seriously i love getting asks this is the best #my main is kudos-si-do btw. if you want more than warriors content #fair warning once i get back to reblogging there will be a lot of psych content #i love that show #anyway i should probably stop rambling lol #how many times can i type etcetera in one post LOL

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spirit-of-a-kiger · 8 months

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Headcanons about how each member of the TADC cast feels about physical contact

Ragatha definitely loves touch the most out of any of the human souls. Her favorite kind of contact is hugs by far, but she’ll gladly accept any other form, too. She’s pretty bummed that none of the others are nearly as cuddly as her, but she respects their boundaries nonetheless.

Gangle isn’t nearly as cuddly as Ragatha, but she generally likes it. Her ribbons are very soft and silky and smooth, but her porcelain mask is her favorite place to be petted. She loves it when people pat her head, stroke her cheek, and most of all, when they wipe her tears. Sometimes, if someone comforts her while she’s crying, she’ll even snuggle up to them. Sometimes, she even loses track of her ribbons, and before anyone knows it, she ends up a tangled mess around the other person.

Jax is pretty neutral. If someone touched him affectionately, he would be confused as to why they would even want to do that, but he would allow it. They’d have to be pretty lucky for him to not make any snarky comments about it, though. Also, while he doesn’t care for it much normally, he would grow to really like it if it went on for long enough or if he was in need of comfort. He wouldn’t admit it, of course, but I’m picturing someone petting his head for a while, and eventually, he gets so relaxed that he lowers his ears, closes his eyes, and leans into it (kinda like in Bendy and the Dark Revival when Audrey pets Tom). He may even doze off a little.

Kinger is way too nervous to enjoy touch for the most part. Occasionally, he’ll awkwardly pat someone if he sees that they need comfort or if he just wants to show a bit of affection, but if anyone touches him, he freaks out. The only person whose touch comforts rather than scares him is Ragatha. He especially likes when she strokes the little cross atop his head. When Ragatha does so (provided there is nothing else going on that would keep his guard up), he kneels down and bows his head as though submitting to her.

Pomni is similarly afraid of touch. Currently, she spooks if anyone touches her in any way, though that may change once she’s been in the circus long enough to establish trusting relationships.

Zooble isn’t really scared of touch, per se, but they do find skin-to-skin contact disgusting. If you grab them and refuse to let go, they will go from struggling to attacking you with their antlers. Unfortunately, Caine doesn’t feel pain, so not even stabbing him in the eyes with a pointy, jagged horn deters him. Once whoever it was finally lets them go, they begin to shudder violently for however long it takes to get it out of their system (which usually depends on how long they were touched for – usually around 2-5 minutes, though it can certainly go on longer and has many times). During this time, their eyes are wide open, looking at nothing in particular, and they hold their arms out away from their body, as if even their own limbs are invading their space. For several hours afterwards, their personal space bubble is greatly expanded.

Bubble may be a strange, mischievous little gremlin, but he is also happy to be Caine’s lapdog. He loves being hugged and petted. Sometimes, he enjoys it absently with not a single thought behind his beady little eyes; other times, he will return it gratefully, such as by eagerly licking Caine’s face.

Caine is very touchy-feely. Since he doesn’t even understand that stabbing people hurts and scares them, he’s definitely not gonna know about more subtle concepts like personal space. (Heck, even some humans have trouble with that.) He often shows affection to members of his troupe by hugging them, swinging an arm around them, patting their heads, etc. Even the ones that normally welcome touch get scared when Caine does it.

#the amazing digital circus #tadc #tw brief mention of eye injury

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marrfixated · 2 months

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(More thoughts and drafting! Some weird formatting I know but it was all one block in my notes)

Emma is doing just fine. Average. It’s really not so bad.

She’s just been dealing with a lot of change. And with too many things not changing.

Which is… an odd thing to struggle with.

Because she likes hange. Daunting challenges. The unpredictable. Doing new things every day and never being scared of them. And she likes independence.

She had thought so, at least.

After the show, she had been hit in the face with just how… isolated she was. She had only had two friends before the first season, but she had left them behind. Her mother wasn’t doing the best, and she didn’t have any nearby family.

She found herself laying in her bed in the middle of the day most of the time, scrolling through her contacts and old conversations.

Or scrolling through her comments on TikTok.

A few weeks ago, she had tried some stunt involving a motorcycle and an inflatable pool. She probably wouldn’t have messed it up if her hands weren’t trembling.

(She had forgot to check the breaks, and wasn’t sure if they were working.)

(They were.)

The blood dripping down her face and the gash in her lip didn’t sting as much as it did watching the video.

She looked ridiculous, and she probably always did. It was better when she had someone else to do it with. Maybe she was losing her touch.

She didn’t post the video.

She turned back to dancing instead, which did feel less embarassing, despite the constant mocking feedback. Sure, the jokes were “funny”, but she didn’t care about any of it. She didn’t feel the rush, she wasn’t planning every day, and she wasn’t known or loved for anything.

Except for what she lost.

And, the show, to an extent.

-Ugh, she misses the show. She shouldn’t, but as stupid as it sounds, she missed doing crazy things and talking to people. Having a chance of winning. Beating everyone. Being cheered on. It wasn’t always great, but at least it was something. She misses doing something.

And she really misses Bowie. She missed Bowie, but she knows better than anyone that she can’t go back to that. They just- have better things to do now. He probably does.

He’s got Raj- which is great! And she’s happy for him! She’s happy for everyone. For Wayne, however he’s doing, for Julia, despite everything.

And Caleb. For having Priya.

Emma is jealous that Bowie gets to have someone.

Emma is jealous that everyone else gets to have someone.

Emma is jealous that, unlike everyone else, winning the show probably wouldn’t have made her any happier.

She isn’t sure what would.

#cw injury mention #(very brief)#writing her always feels weird because I like to explore things that weren’t at all touched in canon #because we only see her as angry at Chase or lighthearted and silly #but I think she’d feel sort of empty. especially with how much attention she would be used to and craving #with Chase and her millions(?) of fans #and you aren’t just angry and then happy.. like she would have a lot of guilt too #like e4s2 and when Bowie and her fought are what I’m going off of #plus she’s portrayed as a person who wants validation/social interaction/close relationships #and she doesn’t really have that #also you can’t tell me she loves TikTok and it’s so good for her mental health lol I use TikTok and nobody has ever thought that #but yeah it’s hard to analyze and elaborate on a character who’s been kind of wasted in canon #but still I think there’s so many fun ways to analyze her #original post #total drama #total drama island #total drama 2023 #total drama reboot #td spoilers #technically this is Priyemma based but I won’t tag it as such cus it isn’t obvious #I think Emma would have gotten really attached to her though.. arghhh #because Priya trusted her and supported her and liked her and she hasn’t actually had that before #and her missing Bowie… oomph it hurts #gah sorry for ranting lol but I love her #td Emma #Emma td #tdi Emma #Emma tdi #total drama emma #emma total drama

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adudelolwriting · 1 month

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true hate's kiss for chodark mayhaps????? please????? i think it'd be hilarious?????

-✨

oh my GODS this one started kicking my ass at the end . its OKAYYY i dont think its the best but whatever they cant all be winners am i right chat (sitcom laughing) . anyways here you go sparkle anon, hope you enjoy !! (ask game here)

~~~~~~~~~~

Dark had a curse.

Chosen knew this — the curse was to take Chosen's life. Chosen knew the risk of saving Dark, and then helping her. Chosen knew that, one day, the curse, the mission code, would act up, and Chosen would have to fight.

So, the two fought. Dark always apologized once she snapped out of it (typically after getting the shit knocked out of her), and Chosen always was there to help dress her wounds.

But… as the years went on, and as they retired, or settled down, or whatever you called it, Dark just got more and more antsy. Secretive.

Dark revealed his plan on a regular Wednesday afternoon. "We can take revenge, Chosen! We can finally make Him hurt, like He hurt you!"

"...No. You don't want this, Dark. I don't want this."

"But I did this for you! We can attack the Cursor that hurt you!" Dark gestured to the massive laser machine in front of her.

Chosen shook Chosen's head. "No. We're done with this, with hurting sticks, remember? We agreed."

"But He's not a stick!"

"No." Chosen's arms crossed, and Dark looked pissed. "I did this for you!" He repeated, and then he dove for the button. Chosen leaped to him, grabbing him and pulling him away from the button. The two fought, anger burning through Chosen.

How dare she, try and do this? Who does she think she is, trying to do this to them?

Dark wiggled out of Chosen's grasp, and hit the button. What looked like a nuke launched into the sky, breaking through the Outernet's sky and into an IP — One that Chosen knew too well. Before Chosen could think properly, Chosen blasted Dark through the wall in the house, and flew after the bomb.

Chosen had to spend a few days on Alan's PC. The… Virabots hurt Chosen — much more than Chosen thought they could have. Deep, long wounds were littered on Chosen's body, and something was preventing Chosen from healing as quickly as Chosen should.

Alan had some new sticks, apparently. Another hollowhead, named The Second Coming (of Chosen?), and a few regular sticks that looked like they came from Stick City, but more brighter. Noogai3 didn't tell them anything, because of course He wouldn't, but after just one look from Second, Noogai caved and told them everything.

Chosen has been spending most of Chosen's time in a weird, strangely blocky house on the PC. Noogia couldn't see Chosen from the inside, so it was better, even if He promised not to hurt Chosen and had apologized to Chosen.

But the thing was, Noogia shouldn't have to apologize, because He should have never done that to Chosen. The stick was bitter and spiteful towards the cursor. Chosen hated him. But there were also sticks here.

(Innocent sticks that nearly died because of Dark's revenge. Revenge Chosen never wanted.)

Chosen wasn't healing.

Yes, the bleeding stopped, but the wounds themselves would not heal. Blue, who was apparently the second oldest behind Second aerself, had put an IV into Chosen's arm as Chosen's presents turned the first level of this building into a makeshift infirmary. The kid explained that it's from a game, and it's supposed to help healing.

Chosen was grateful for these children helping Chosen. Tensions seemed tense — Chosen hopes it wasn't always like this, but who knows with Noogia.

The past few days, they talked to Chosen. A lot. It seems they've never been off the PC before, and were curious about Chosen's life. Chosen willingly told them the non criminal things, mostly what Chosen did in retirement.

Currently, Chosen was chatting to Blue, who was checking on Chosen's wounds, when a loud crash came from outside of the building. Chosen flinched — Chosen still wasn't used to all the noise the kids made — before screams rang through the room. Both Chosen and Blue froze.

Blue rushed out, telling Chosen to stay where Chosen was. Rolling Chosen's eyes, the IV gets ripped out of Chosen's arm (Ow.) before Chosen walks out of the building.

"Dark?!" Chosen shouted, seeing the bright red stick flying in the air with flames surrounding her fists. "What the fuck?"

Dark, upon seeing the stick figure, dropped to the ground, charging at Chosen. Chosen let out an "oomph", unable to defend against Dark's attacks. Dark never really hurt Chosen before — not physically, not leaving welts or cuts or bruises. But the Virabots left every cut and scratch and scar on Chosen's body.

The kids screamed in the background, trying to pull Dark off of Chosen, but it was no use. Dark was cursed.

Dark was cursed, and Chosen was tired. Chosen was just able to keep Chosen's arms up, shielding Chosen's face. After a moment of debate, Chosen grabbed Dark's face. It startled her, as her face was pulled down, and Chosen kissed her. "I'm sorry," Chosen muttered, and Dark stayed still, frozen. "I'm sorry that I could never help you."

"I… what?" Dark asked, blinking his eyes. They… they were normal again. Not full of ones or zeros that overtook his eyes when the mission code took over his body. "Why…" Dark's voice trailed off, a hand reaching to his lips.

#adude.writes #adude.requests #sparkle anon #animator vs animation #the dark lord #the chosen one #blue ava #kinda? pretty brief #noogia3 (mentioned once again)#chodark #shipfic #injuries #AHHH i hope this is okay . its like 4am rn and i dont have the energy to reread/edit it so #fuck i was gonna queue this for the morning but i accidently posted it early #oh well ill queue a morning reblog here + main acc

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mad-hunts · 1 month

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blood, sender cleans blood off of receiver.

'whenever you're a part of gotham's underground, it's just a rule that you're going to make some enemies, and that means you have to be prepared for anything.' that is something that barton remembers telling his kids once in an attempt to warn them against ever letting their guard down around other people — and somewhat of a mantra that he himself liked to abide by. which, seemed very relevant right now, seeing as he was staring down at the bloodied corpse of someone he originally thought was on his side. but it seemed like the man was quick to change his alliances whenever he was offered a better deal by another villain to be their new inside person and all they had to do was kill him before they could officially switch to working for them. or, perhaps former police officer would be the more appropriate way to refer to him now.

cyrus mitchell was his name. and for a while, he served as barton's 'inside man,' who would report back to him whenever his name was so much as whispered in gotham city's police station for a ridiculous amount of money. but having the ability to be three steps ahead of everyone would always cost you in one way or another. to be able to protect yourself and those you loved, barton did have this idea that you had to sacrifice something, as that seemed to one of the quickest ways to gain power over someone or perhaps even a whole system; both on a physical and mental level. though with that sacrifice came risk, since people like cyrus were obsessed with the idea of living the good life and whenever a new, better offer for work flew into their lap... they immediately wanted to take it. if only he hadn't gotten so greedy.

barton was still breathing heavily from all of the energy he'd just exerted while he was doing something rather unsavory to cyrus's head, which actually caused it to look like less like a head in the end and more like a mess of gore, as well as blood. all of the adrenaline that he had been feeling before was now something that he was beginning to come down from; which made barton to begin to really feel the aching that cyrus, the slimy bastard, had brought about in his legs when he had him pinned down to the ground stomach first for a good five minutes or so. so as you can imagine... with all of the craziness that had been going on around him, barton's mind had failed to remember that someone was actually supposed to be meeting him here soon.

mya, barton thought her name was? thus, he was rather startled by the other suddenly being in his vicinity — in his workshop — and failed to find the right words to say to her for a moment. barton put on his best smile then and tried to ease the tension in the room with a quip, ❝ ahh, right. you're here. don't mind him, he's just going to be hanging around for a little bit... up until i gather enough strength to pick him up and carve him like a thanksgiving turkey, ❞ a breathy, but also sadistic chuckle came from him as he reached for one of the rags that he typically kept near his autopsy table. that's when his vision suddenly stopped working on him and he had to bend over the table to keep himself standing. his eyes, particularly his left one, felt like they were their own individual fountains now as his body seemed to remember that... yes, that man had gone for his eyes and he was pretty sure, had probably cut deep enough directly below them to cause them to overproduce tears because they were damaged.

that's when he felt it. it must've been mya, because there was no one else here at the moment, who had taken the cloth from him and was now wiping at the blood running down his face. barton still couldn't see anything so he had to grope around blindly to loosely grab her other hand's wrist. a shaky groan left his mouth as red-hot pain ran through the areas that she was wiping clear of blood, though that was likely not her intention. he pulled on her wrist then and tried to bat away the hand she was actually using to help him, ❝ ugh, what are you doing? stop it. you're hurting me. ❞

another attempt to bat at her hand, and that's when he decided to try to open his eyes to see her rather than keep them closed. which proved to only hurt him further... great, just great, he thought. mya could kill him if she wanted to right now and he'd be utterly defenseless.

#furiaei #tw: blood.#tw: brief mention of gore.#tw: mentions of murder.#tw: eye injury.#HIII yes i have decided to make it so that barton has no choice but to trust her with this... what about it? / j #LMAO nah i'm just joking around but i hope you like my response to this and that you're having a great day!!

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meraki24601 · 9 months

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Rules

Whumpee could have beaten these guys 30 minutes ago. There were 6 of them, but they were only minions. A small group lurking in an abandoned warehouse once owned by Whumper. Weak enemies Whumpee could easily bash through without a scratch.

Well, let’s rephrase that first bit… 30 minutes ago, Whumpee could have beaten these guys.

Now, Whumpee just hurt. It was fine, though. The pain helped them focus. They needed it after so long. A fight was exactly what Whumpee needed. It was enough to make them sigh in relief.

“What’s that? Getting bored?” The man holding Whumpee up laughed in their ear. Their arm tightened around Whumpee’s throat, cutting off the last bits of air they could drag into their bruised chest. “I saw you back then. Back when Whumpee had you. I’ve heard the rumors about what they did to you. Even heard that since you were rescued, you’ve been, well, reckless.”

The man threw Whumpee to the ground at the other’s feet, “Is that what this is, Whumpee? Did you miss having Whumper’s hands on you? Did you want to feel pain again?”

Dragging air forcefully into deprived lungs is a familiar feeling. Whumpee can’t speak, but they shake their head with a low cough. They didn’t miss Whumper. It was a little odd waking up without needing to fear the footsteps outside their door and going to sleep with a full stomach again. That didn’t mean Whumpee missed it. They were relieved to be safe.

It was a good thing to not be punished after making a mistake. Relieving to be able to turn their head without nearly blacking out. They were starting to gain weight back. The doctor even allowed them to start working out and practicing going on missions with the team again instead of staying back and focusing on research.

Everything was… too much.

Whumpee had been with Whumper for so long. Of course, they’d never given up hope of being rescued. They didn’t let Whumper break them. It was just they had gotten used to living with Whumper. All the punishments and the lack of food hurt, but it made it easy for Whumpee to understand.

Now that they were free, Whumpee kept messing up. The rulebook they had worked so hard to memorize to survive had been thrown out the window. With nothing left to show them how to react or punishments to correct them when they were bad, Whumpee was desperate. Punishment. They needed to be punished. The pressure caught in their throat like a scream catching in their throat, making their skin itch.

A rough kick cracking a rib on their left side scratched that itch.

Yet, this was wrong. It still felt bad. Whumpee had taken much worse beatings from Whumper, but somehow this was worse.

Even as Whumper brought them to the brink of death, Whumpee had never felt like they would actually die. They’d felt safe knowing no matter how bad the punishment was when they screwed up, they’d be able to make it up tomorrow.

This was not safe. Whumpee had gone looking for pain. They could admit that now. But this was wrong. This pain wasn’t what they were looking for. It wasn’t here, or in “forgetting” to block a few hits during training, or taking a blade to their own body. They weren’t safe anymore. It was gone.

Whumpee could have beaten these guys before they had been taken, but now…

A loud crack echoed through the empty building as Whumpee’s head slammed into a wall. They had heard frantic voices approaching, but a new ringing in their ears drowned it out. It was as if they were drowning as the smell of blood washed over them. Darkness surrounded them. It was too much. Too much. Too much.

Then, it was over. The voices had been their teammates coming to rescue them. Whumpee had laid there, floating in the emptiness as they were rescued once again. Gentle hands carried them home and bandaged their wounds.

Once Whumpee had returned to their body enough to focus on the medic wrapping their side, the questions began. It was kind of a relief since their team had been forced from the room for the conversation. Whumper had never allowed more than one other person in the room with them when Whumpee was being punished. Having so many bodies so close to theirs when they were recovering from punishment was overwhelming.

The medic’s voice was soft and kind as they asked Whumpee the expected line of questions. “Do you know where you are?”

“Yes.”

“Do you remember what happened?”

“Yes.”

“Can you tell me why you were in that warehouse?”

“I found some of Whumper’s men hiding out and went in to fight them.”

“I see. You have some serious injuries. Some of them look older. Can you tell me how you got them and why you didn’t have them treated?”

“Punishments aren’t meant to be treated. They’re there for me to learn from.”

“Punishments? Is someone hurting you as a form of punishment?”

“No.”

The medic looked concerned and slightly confused. “I’m sorry, I’m not sure I follow. How did you get those injuries?”

Whumpee tensed. The world went dark around the edges, crawling toward the center like an army of ants. A hand on their shoulder made them flinch. Whumpee could see Whumper standing over them laughing, “Look at you. Lying helpless at my feet. Who did this to you, Whumpee? How did you get those injuries?”

“I’ll do better next time. I won’t break the rules.” Whumpee’s voice cracked as they forced down a sob. It hurt. Where- where were they? The darkness eased up as air was forced into their lungs, but they couldn’t recognize the bright walls or the soft bed. Or the people surrounding them. There were so many people. Noise. Pain. The smell of blood.

“I’m sorry, Whumper. Please, punish me. Show me how to get better.”

Hands pressed down on Whumpee, holding them on the uncomfortably strange bed. They didn’t fight. They didn’t react when they felt a pinch in their arm. They didn’t struggle when something was pressed to their face, covering their nose and mouth.

Finally, they knew what they were supposed to do. Whumpee would follow the rules.

#whump #whump fic #whump scenario #whump writing #whump tropes #whump ideas #whumpee #rescue #hiding injuries #brief mention of self harm #punishment #hurt/comfort #injury whump #past torture #passing out

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newts-and-sharks · 2 years

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ok, so i decided to post what i had for modern noodles here, its unfinished and kinda cliff hangs, but im not really feeling up to finishing this :/

starts under cut :P

Well, this was…unexpected.

One second, you were just sipping on some water, enjoying the beautiful scenery that was your backyard that you had put so much blood, sweat, and tears into. Quite literally, too. It was a long and very painful process to get your yard into the pristine condition it’s in.

Or it was in.

Before some sort of meteor crash landed into the yard in a fiery blaze, leaving a good sized crater in the middle of it.

Now, here you are, trying to put out a multitude of white glittery flames that had made their homes in the willow tree and among the grass with only the old, dusty gardening hose you had.

Great.

Not like you spent months, almost a year, making this yard the best looking damn yard on this whole shit show of a planet. Not like you have spent well over a reasonable amount of money on this small sliver of land. Not like you didn't toil tirelessly for months on end, landscaping under the sun, only for it to become carved out and set ablaze by this mystery aerial projectile.

Well, to be fair, it has been set on fire once or twice in the past, but that was because you had accidentally walked in on the pygmy drakes that had made their home under your shed. You’ve tried removing them, but that turned out not so well, so now you have some story time scars and new scaly neighbors that you feed from time to time.

But you have never seen fire like this. Usually fire is a shade of yellow, orange, or red. This fire was a platinum white, emitting yellow and blue smoke that would fade into the darkening night sky. Definitely strange, and definitely required some research later, but right now you have to get this fire out.

You were spraying furiously at the flames, and soon all of the flames had died down. You breathed heavily, the adrenaline still coursing through your veins as your hands shakily put the hose down and glared at the damage.

Well, the wyvern nest in the willow tree was safe at least. The tree was the first thing you saved from the flames, specifically because those wyvern eggs still had yet to hatch. Plus, that tree was still fairly young, and you were planning on having it around for a few more years at least.

A few branches were understandably burnt, some more than others- but that just meant you had to prune away the dead ends. Not too bad. The lawn however, had bald spots here and there, not to mention the large crater right in the middle. The pond was fine, it didn't look like it took any damage. But you could say goodbye to the Begonia, Lily of the Valley, and Dahlia flowers.

You sprinted over and salvaged as many bulbs as you could, and tried to find a few pips from the Lily of the Valley. You swiftly deposit them in a nearby bucket, and make a mental note to rip the charred and damaged flowers and stems from the ground sometime tomorrow.

You turn back around to deal with the crater in the center of your yard. The impact had sprayed dirt everywhere, as well as sent a few good sized rocks through the fence. You walk over to the dent in the ground, sighing in exasperation, only to jump when you see what was in the crater.

You quickly run to the shed, swinging the door open, ignoring the hissing drakes, grabbing your trusty shovel (and narrowly avoiding a bite from a particularly grumpy drake), and sprint back to the hole.

Brandishing the shovel, you experimentally and slowly dip the shovel inside and give a quick jab, pulling back just as quickly. The lump of…whatever that is, twitched, so it was reacting to external stimulation. That meant it was alive-

You try to wave away the smoke that was constantly pouring out of the crater, giving you more of a chance to actually see what you were doing. If there was a chance that whatever crashed into your yard was alive, you were going to try and bring it back to health. Yeah, it fucked up all your hard work, but just letting something die over that would be fucked up, too.

You gently prod around, carefully watching the formless shape for any negative reactions before scooping it out and gently laying it on the ground.

Well.

You were not expecting this.

In front of you were two oriental dragons. You thought those guys went extinct a long time ago, but maybe you were wrong-? There was a fluffy yellow one that appeared to have a crown of horns and a plated stomach, and dark blue-ish and white one with deer antlers and a glowing bulb at the end of its tail. Both of them had complex patterns of fur and scales, more complex than any other dragon you’ve ever seen. The most interesting thing about them was the area on their necks that appeared to be rubbed raw, like they had worn a collar that was way too tight for way too long. They looked almost sickly, skinny enough to see their bones, and they also appeared as though they hadn't slept well in about ten years. And they were so tiny, about the length of a small belt-

A sharp growl sounded from the tree. When you turned to look, you assumed that the wyvern would be growling at you, given that there was a fire and you were spraying water everywhere like a mad man. It was a stressor and you were the only human around, and you were directly involved. Of course the locals would be pissed. However, she wasn't looking at you-

She was staring, growling, and hissing at the two noodles in front of you.

“Hey, knock it off Becky, I'm trying to get them out of your feathers for you!”

More hissing, this time it was aimed at you.

“Hey hey hey! What did I just say? I am literally trying to get them out and away-” Geez, wyverns take ‘territorial’ to a whole new level. Becky’s partner, who you have dubbed Ron, poked his head out and started hissing too. You threw your hands up in the air in defeat. Why were you trying to reason with these flying lizard chickens. They can't understand you.

You step away from the dragons and quickly grab the nearby bucket, dumping out all the bulbs and pips inside. Once you return, you scoop them into the bucket as gently as you can. Any harsh or brash movements might injure these two even more than they likely are.

As you reach the back door, the wyvern couple give one more indignant screech, to which you give them a little bird over your shoulder. Even if they don't understand it, you feel a little less peeved off at them and their bad attitudes.

Once inside, you quickly get to work. You grab a few rags, a pair of towels, and make your way to the bathroom. You set the bucket down on the tiled floor and turn on the bath water. You're not exactly sure what you are doing, but you had to nurse an injured wyrm once, and these two looked kind of similar. Just cross your fingers and pray to the medicinal gods that you can do this.

You turn off the water once it is enough and carefully- CAREFULLY- pick up the yellow one, and very gingerly lower it into the shallow water. You did the same for the darker one, watching for any signs of obvious discomfort or pain. Their breathing was quick and shallow, which meant you had to act fast.

Once they had been placed in the tub, you took one of the rags and dipped it in the water. Gently, you cup the face of the golden serpent and wipe away the dark blood from the wounds you could see, but…

It looked like he had healed a little bit, like he had had these wounds for a few days now. Did he- or maybe even both of them- have fast self healing properties? You would have to pin that question for later, suddenly remembering that he could still get infected.

Quickly, you get back to work. His breathing was still ragged, but once he was clean, you laid him down on a nearby towel. You repeated this with his darker counterpart, noticing the awkward angle of one of his back legs. You would definitely have to fix that later. Even with self healing, if it was dislocated or broken, it could heal in the wrong way.

After you set him down on his own blanket, you drain the tub of the bloody water and initiate a health check. Usually, this was to deal with wyrms, lindwurms, and sea serpents, but again: you had no idea what to do. They aren't lindwurms, because those guys only have two front legs. These aren't wyrms, wyrms have no legs. And that goes for the sea serpents, too. So, this was entirely new to you.

For once, you are very glad that you grew up with two dragon vets for mothers. You could hear your Ma’s voice as you inspected the two:

‘First, check the head for any obvious signs of damage.’ Well, the blue one did have this sort of…weird thing going on with his face. Upon closer inspection, his face was half white and half dark blue. Nothing except some light scratches that seemed to have healed slightly, so it was safe to move on. Inspecting the golden one though, you notice a crack in one of his primary horns. It was small, but it might still ache when he awakes. You make a mental note to put some horn repairing ointment on it later. Neither of them seemed to be severely injured on the skin, so you moved on.

You check their eyes, pulling out a small flashlight from one of the nearby cabinets and gently prying their eyes open. The golden dragon's eyes were bloodshot and completely white. You could barely see the even paler pupil, and that was definitely cause for concern. You should take care of that first when you're done, but in the meantime you need to continue and make sure there was nothing else that required your attention first. When you checked his counterparts' eyes, it was a bit harder to tell. His eyes were a natural ruby red with a black sclera, so it was hard to spot any blood or cataracts. You couldn't check the dilation of the eyes for his friend, but this should be easier. After a quick check, his slitted eyes responded normally to the light.

Finally, you went on to the final step: ‘Gently feel along the body for any lumps, bumps, or any other abrasions.’ You could only feel a few bumps, and those you could feel were from their ribs, which you fully intended on giving these boys a proper meal after, and the area on their lower necks that had been slightly rubbed raw, and it hurt just to look at it. It was a miracle they survived that crash when they were already this unhealthy. Whoever they belonged to previously had clearly not cared about these dragons in a healthy way, if at all. It made you furious, if it had been any one else's yard they had crashed into, you aren't quite sure they would be exactly welcomed and taken care of the way you are currently doing so. Their current condition would have left them defenseless against drakes, wyverns, true dragons, anything really. A rather common thing you noticed on the pale dragon was a swelled pyro sac, the organ that produces flames. The not-so-common detail that you noticed was that an agitated pyro sac was usually warm, and glowed like an ember. However this one was rather cold, and while it was slightly swollen, it didn't glow at all.

Well, that absolutely mystifies you, and you’d have to check in with your mothers’ about that.

You were surprised to find no burn marks. The crater, including themselves, had been smoking, and the fire all around them should have at least given them heat burns. But their scales were just really dehydrated, which is a miracle given the circumstances.

You reach into the cabinet under the sink and pull out the emergency first aid kit that your Ma gave you before you moved out. She insisted on it, saying that you would never know when you would have to take care of a dragon. Back then you were slightly exasperated, but now you were very grateful.

Aaaaaaaaand that’s all I got for Modern noodles, i got burnt out by the end and didn’t know where to take it, hence me writing swords and scales instead

#noodle au #dragon au #noodle moon #noodle sun #dragon moon #dragon sun #noodle sun n moon #dragon sun n moon #tw injury #tw brief mentions of blood

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chicabae · 2 years

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Whumptober Day 8- Head Trauma

Read on AO3 CB’s Whumptober Collection here

Top Gun

Slicemav

Ice hummed along to a song on the radio, some Top 40 pop song that is overplayed enough for him to recognize. The humming helped to distract him from the text he had received from Mav earlier that day. Two simple words, code purple, made his heart sink.

Slider had left the base early looking pale and shaky and Ice couldn't blame him. At first, he suspected it was a stomach bug going around, but when he called to check in, Slider's phone went straight to voicemail. An hour or so later, Mav texted the dreaded words and confirmed his fears.

Over the years, Ice was always accompanied by Slider. Where one went, the other surely followed. This included deployments, promotions, hell, even relationships. Ice never had to worry that he'd be alone, he'd always have Ron. Then Mav came along, and then all three never left each other's sides. The one time they'd been separated had resulted in Slider's current predicament.

Ice had just been promoted to Admiral and semi-hung up his wings. Slider was close behind, almost a shoo-in for the next round of promotions, but as a Captain, he was still sent on missions. Mav had become a somewhat guest instructor for Top Gun and was able to stay state-side more often than not, closer to them and home. Slider was deployed with a pilot in a similar situation, their RIO retired and needed someone for one last time before a promotion.

For a few weeks, it was fine. The reception was spotty at best, but Ice and Mav were still able to hear their partner’s voice every week or so. But then he missed a week. Then two. On the third week of silence, Ice answered the call on speaker with a terse “Admiral Kazansky”. Pete perked up in his seat, eyes widening. Slider and his pilot went down, hard. He crashed and they didn’t know. Ron crashed and was in a coma for weeks and they never knew.

At Ice’s silence, Mav took over asking questions, demanding to know why they weren’t informed. They were clearly listed as Slider’s emergency contacts, his medical proxies. Apparently, someone knew someone who knew about them; his connection to an upstart admiral and the Mitchell legacy. But it didn’t matter now. The call told them that Slider was finally stable enough to be sent to a state-side hospital, still asleep and injuries still classified. When they finally saw their third, they couldn't help but stare in horror. One half of Slider's face was wrapped in gauze and bandages, the other half was a mosaic of yellow-green bruises. The doctor approached and explained. When he and his pilot ejected, some shrapnel from his jet was flung into his helmet and lodged in his head. Thankfully, it didn’t go deep, but it still caused a skull fracture and more than likely sliced through delicate nerves.

They stayed by his bedside as often as they could. Tom held Pete's hand when the nurses changed his bandages. He couldn't help but tear up when the jagged cut running down Ron’s face was revealed. The row of thick black stitches ran from his hairline, crossed his temple, down his cheek, and curved back to his jaw. When finally he woke up, blinked around the room, and smiled at them, Mav really did cry and Ice wasn’t too far off.

That was years ago, and Ice is now a proud 3-star admiral and Slider is right beside him as a 2-star. His scar is still thick and prominent, but it adds to his intimidating reputation. To Ice and Mav, it reminds them that he survived, that he made it home. Even with the daily reminder of his last mission, Slider still has days like today, when it feels like his skull was being pried open and stabbed with hot pokers. His migraines first appeared a month or so after he left the hospital, Tom woke up to see Ron passed out in the bathroom, lying in a pool of his own vomit. Since then, they learned all they could; the warning symptoms Slider feels, how to help him if it hits unexpectedly, and how to soothe the worst of it.

Pulling into the driveway, Ice parks and quietly enters through the front door. The lights were all off in the house and it was completely silent. Even their black lab Daisy hadn’t rushed up to greet him. He walks down the darkened hallways until he gently pushes open the door to their bedroom. Daisy’s head raises up off the lump on the bed and swivels in his direction. She huffs and nudges the lump nearest to her and lays back down. Slowly, Mav’s head appears above the blankets and finds Ice silently coming over. When he finally made it to the bed, he saw the jigsaw puzzle before him. Mav was laying on his back, Slider's head resting on his chest as he lay on top with the smaller man's arms wrapped protectively around him. Ron’s face is drawn tight, pulling at his scar. Pete gently rubs his back, gently trailing his fingers from the back of Ron's neck to his shoulders, repeating over and over until he relaxes.

"Triptan?" Ice asks quietly, kneeling beside the bed. Mav nods.

"As soon as I came home," he murmurs. "He was crying today, found him on the floor. He couldn't even make it to the bed." Ron's grip tightens on Mav's sides before burrowing his face deeper into his chest.

"Daisy, good girl," a slurred rasp came out. Ice shushed him, not wanting him to wake up just yet, but he continued. "Ran outta pills, too late an'way." Daisy whines at the sound of her name, shuffling closer to Slider’s legs.

Damn, they'll need to order more. Slider always carried at least a few on him, letting him stop a migraine even before it could start. If he's late catching it, only a shot of medicine can help and they only keep that at home.

“Okay baby, we’ll order more,” Pete soothes, his hand coming up and resting on the back of Ron’s head. He sighs when Mav starts to lightly pet behind his ear, “How’re you feeling now?”

The bone-weary sigh their partner lets out has Tom on edge, ready to get anything he wishes. “Tired, head’s pounding but not like before,” Slider turns his head so he can look at the blond, “eye is still fuzzy, want to sleep more.”

Ice reaches out and strokes his tired face, leaning in and kissing Ron’s forehead near the top of his scar. As he pulls away, a plan for the night formed in his mind. “Okay baby, stay here with Pete and I’ll-”

Slider’s hand reaches out and stops him. “Stay Tom,” he whispers, eyes drooping, “Warm.”

Mav snorts below him, “Not my fault sweetie, I’m the icebox of this relationship.” Slider nods in agreement.

Ice doesn’t realize he’s smiling at the scene until he’s shooing Daisy away so he can crawl in beside his lovers. He shuffles under the covers until he’s laying flush with Pete, Ron sluggishly moving so he’s haphazardly draped over both of them. Ice wraps an arm around his waist and holds him close. “Sleep baby,” he leans up and kisses Slider’s shoulder. “We’ll be here when you wake up.” The brunet hums and settles over their chests, breaths evening out as he goes back to sleep.

#whumptober2022 #no.8 #head trauma #migraines #top gun maverick #slicemav #mentions of vomit #mentions of plane crash #brief description of injuries #hurt/comfort #whump

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ohanahoku-ao3 · 7 months

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Whumptober Day 17

@whumptober Hope everyone enjoys this continuation from my fic for day 14!

Teen & Up - Gen - Teen Wolf

Holding On, Always Chapter 2

The pack had found him, and Stiles closed his eyes and listened as they fought his captor and the hunters she employed. The silence that followed was filled with a shout of his name, and Stiles opened his eyes to see his pack coming closer. Lydia reached him first, a key in her hand that she used to uncuff him. She and Scott caught him as he stumbled forward, but Stiles was suddenly too overwhelmed by their touch, and he pulled away with a cry. He tripped and landed on his backside, scrambling backward til he hit a wall, his breath coming hard and fast.

His body was screaming at him, injuries flaring with pain. The pack was staring at him in shock and worry, and behind them, he could see the female hunter on the floor. He couldn’t tell if she was dead or not, but he didn’t care much either way. He choked on an inhale, flinching away as Scott knelt down and reached for him. “Don’t touch me.” He rasped, voice raw and throat sore from screaming.

“Stiles, you’re hurt. Let me help.” Scott said softly, holding a hand out but not touching him.

A lump grew in Stiles’ throat as his pack’s love and worry reached out to him through their bonds, echoes of sympathy as they felt his pain. “I can’t- I-” Stiles sobbed, trembling as he curled in on himself tighter. The sensations grew stronger, the worry and fear that reflected his own tying a knot in his chest. He hated hurting them. He hated it. But he couldn’t handle the touch yet, even when he knew that immediate relief would follow it.

“Alright. It’s okay, Stiles. We’re right here when you’re ready.” Scott told him, the others murmuring in agreement as they all moved to sit down around him, close but not touching. Slowly, the feelings coming through the bonds gentled, the pack carefully wrapping Stiles in love and affection, helping him to calm down as he closed his eyes and rested his head against his folded arms.

Time passed, and Stiles shifted, pain flaring brightly and causing spikes of worry to filter back through their bond again. He didn’t lift his head as the exhaustion started to sink in, but eventually, he reached towards Scott, hand shaking as he laid it on the concrete between them.

A warm hand gripped his own, and Stiles instantly relaxed as the pain started to slip away from him, leaving behind only the love and affection of his pack. That was why he remained so loyal to Scott and brave in the face of torture. It was something the hunter would never understand, but most definitely something worth holding on for.

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convexicalcrow · 10 months

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Aww yeah the first part of the Lost Prince AU is done! For anyone waiting to read it now that it's complete, now's your time. <3

In this chapter, Cub finally arrives at Djesdjes, reuniting with Scar in, well. Let's say not the most ideal circumstances.

I'm going to take a couple of weeks to finish off part two before I start posting that bc I want it to all feel complete rather than just ad-libbing everything.

#hermitshipping #fanfic #the lost prince au #convex #cubfan135 #gtwscar #tw animal injury #but it's only a brief mention #tw blood/injury #also wound stitching #but it's not graphic

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denim-mixtapes · 1 year

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Doctor told me I can't lift my dominant arm above my head/shoulder if I can absolutely avoid it and gave me some stretches to see if they help. where is my cute fictional boyfriend to bring me tea and extra pillows and ice packs and give me a hug when I get anxious about the possibility of needing surgery!!!!!

#tw injury #tw surgery #even brief mention i gotta tag it just to be safe #mandy be talkin'#crying is more like it #I'M LOOKIN AT YOU MUNSON AND OR ALSO HARRINGTON #pls

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ninjastormhawkkat · 2 years

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Part 2/???? of my whacky dream

Tw brief death and injury mention, unreality???, dream

Suddenly I hear a cry for help. It sounded like Robby who everyone just called him the exposition guy. Like anyone else would I ran over to where I heard him calling SOS at. It was surprisingly a long way to walk.

And when I get to him found that he was stuck under some crumbling bricks and a tree????. he was hurt really badly band looked almost crushed. I didn't want to leave him there but I forgot my phone at home. Not that it would have helped much. Still getting the hang of using one

The nearest hospital was 10 blocks away. And the man had already passed out by the time I arrived. Logically Ik I couldn't lift up a tree that was big but I didn't want to risk the man dying.

I struggled for a bit, but then it started feeling lighter like paper. I didn't have time to process it much bc then I was talking to his family in the hospital waiting room

The guy was okay he just needs a few days in the hospital before he could be let go. The doctor said it was a good thing I dragged him out of the crumbling building before it collapsed. I tried to tell them what really happened but they just chalked it up to lack of sleep. It was 3 am by then.

and you know what they are probably right. I decided. I head home ready to scroll through Tumblr for another hour 💀- but then a note was taped on my door in dribbling hand writing, the paper looked a bit shredded.

It read:

I SAW YOU

2/???

This is getting more interesting.

#wordgirl #wordgirl au #melodythebunny #answered ask #wordgirl oc #wordgirl canon characters #exposition guy #tw: brief death and mentioned injury

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brutalmasks · 2 months

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“ it’s over. ”

shadows, which seemed to almost resemble dogs in appearance, but with sharp teeth and the same blaring white eyes that bunny mask herself possessed stopped in their tracks. she was on her way to punishing yet another person with the sickness in gotham before she was met with the sight of this red hood character once more. they were a man whom was guilty of running an underground dog fighting ring, and was going to (rather appropriately, she deemed) be ripped to shreds by her dog-like shadows for his crimes. it was a bit confusing to her at first that the red hood would want to stop her, but she supposed she could see the reason behind it being that the red hood didn't like her encroaching on his territory, or something along those lines. because now, bunny mask was being threatened with the business end of one of his weapons. a light sigh left her lips as she turned to meet the vigilante's gaze. the scent of iron was fragrant throughout the alleyway, most likely because she'd had to sever both of the man's achilles tendon's to prevent him from running with her claws: and thus, they were soaked with blood.

that was a common occurrence for bunny mask, however, so it didn't bother her any. she looked to the sick man and took note of his condition before speaking up. his eyes were starting to glaze over, like he was about to pass out. good. if he couldn't fight bunny mask back whatsoever, then this would be over quickly, ❝ mm — i am afraid there must have been some kind of been a misunderstanding here. i am helping to cleanse your city of the sickness, red hood, and yet you wish to condemn me to death? i could list numerous reasons as to why that would be hypocritical of you... seeing as you've been known to kill to protect people as well. and that is what i am doing here, save for that i am protecting animals from him. ❞ bunny mask stared the other dead-in-the-eye even as she pulled out a photo from one of the pockets of her dress. it was a polaroid of an injured dog that just came out of the dog-fighting ring they had, and what they'd done to that poor animal was hard for even an ancient spirit like her to look at.

❝ this is what that man was doing in his free-time. training and coercing these innocent creatures into fighting each other, for entertainment. is this not one of the most horrible thing's you've ever seen? ❞

#greatfailure #ahh... this one has got some heavy content in it related to animals so just be warned #tw: mentions of dogfighting #tw: brief mentions of animal cruelty/injury #bunny mask has been shown to protect innocent creatures of all kinds and i just remembered that her shadows kind of look like dogs so #yeah. i could always write something else if this makes you uncomfortable though i hope it doesn't #i don't wish to make anyone feel unsafe/uncomfy here

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allroundher · 10 months

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uh oh, the filler coverage is talking about cr.icketing families & the child surpassing the parent & i am once more being so normal about the whole braithwaite legacy & penny and tom (and their dad, who always gets overshadowed)

#tbd.#ooc.#i KNOW they make a big to-do about tom retiring after his injury #waxing poetic about carrying the legacy of tommy braithwaite #talking about how of course he'd be a great player when he has a man like that teaching him as a kid #(penny gets a brief mention - probably as an 'and ofc his dad also must have taught him; as he taught penny as well')#and i do just think abt the family legacy & how differently people interact with it wrt penny and tom #w/ tom it's expected; it's a natural progression and he was never going to be anything but a stunning player #but penny's been fighting every day of her life to have a right to that legacy #extra indulgent but when they make a doc about the power siblings then you'll see!! YOU'LL ALL SEE!!!!#anyway when penny becomes one of the world's best players and she does it all w/o a lick of help from tommy #it's her dad and a list of women a mile long & 'well i always wanted to be the next c.harlotte e.dwards didn't i?'#i'll write a proper post abt this one day .

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altruisticalastor · 4 months

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↳˗ˏˋAlastor x Readerˊˎ˗ ↴

☒ Summary: You tend to Alastor's wounds after the fight with Adam. The weight of almost losing him nearly breaks you.

☒ Warnings: gn!reader, hurt / comfort, implied established relationship, descriptions of injuries and stitching them up, mentions of anxiety, the reader cries a bit, comforting!alastor, and also soft!alastor, one kiss, non-sexual undressing, soft touches

☒ Word Count: 1,010

All you could think of the moment the battle ended was Alastor.

The last you saw of him, he was going head-to-head with Adam. But witnessing Nifty stab the lowly man made you worry something terrible happened to Alastor.

The moment you had a second to breathe, you rushed toward the Radio Demon's tower. A trail of blood leading toward his sanctuary sent a wave of fear down your spine. Your steps quickened at the sight, and all the worst-case scenarios flooded your mind.

When you swung the door open, the view of Alastor blanketed your body with a cold sweat in the weight of a moment. He was doubled over the control panel, ears pinned flat to his head as the crackle in his voice echoed through the space with each breath he took.

"Alastor!" You cried out, rushing over to his side in an instant. The sound of you calling his name caused his head to whip around. You wasted no time assessing his injuries, scanning your anxious gaze over his frame.

"Worry not, my dear," Alastor coughed, blood spilling down the corner of his mouth. Your eyebrows knit in concern as you began raiding his radio tower, frantic to uncover a first aid kit. "Of course, I'm going to worry- you're bleeding all over the place!" You exclaimed, letting out a breath of relief as you found the emergency medical kit.

Hastily, you began pushing Alastor's torn overcoat past his shoulders. The injured man simply gazed down at you, a weary smile decorating his visage. "Darling, I can handle this myself," Alastor clamored through gritted teeth, stopping your hands with his own before you could start unbuttoning his dress shirt.

You shot your head up to meet his gaze, frustration evident on your face. "No, you can't! You need to let others help you when you need it! Stop trying to handle all these battles on your own. Please, Al," Your voice softened toward the end of your sentence. You didn't want to shout at him while he was wounded so badly, but Alastor's stubbornness got under your skin. Especially now.

Alastor closed his eyes for a brief moment, taking in a shaky breath before releasing his grasp around your hands. "Alright, my darling... I won't stand in your way any further," His voice was barely above a whisper as he presented you with an apologetic look. You offered him a weak smile in return before undoing the buttons on his blood-soaked shirt. Peeling it off his frame with great gentleness.

Your eyes widened in fear as you finally saw just how gnarly the gash across his torso really was. Your hands shook ever so slightly as you began threading the needle you uncovered in the first aid kit. "Tell me if it hurts too much, and we'll take a break." You expressed softly, eyes meeting his crimson ones. Alastor only nodded at you as he gritted his teeth harsher than before, bracing for impact.

Alastor's grip on the edge of his desk tightened, leaving deep claw marks in his wake. You tried to make the stitching process as painless as possible, but there was only so much you could do. "I'm almost done, my love. You're doing so well," Alastor endured the grueling treatment, letting out a breath he wasn't even aware he was holding as you finished patching him up.

You generously applied ointment before wrapping gauze all the way around his frame. Alastor let out a hiss as the bandage came in contact with his gash. "I know, my love... just hold on a little longer for me," You snuggly secured the gauze before bringing your hands down. You grasped his hands. Clutching his large palms comfortingly as you beamed up at him.

"There, now you're as good as new." You quipped, massaging the pads of your thumbs into the back of his palms. Alastor grinned wearily, his crimson eyes holding much adoration for you. "Thank you, my darling... I reckon I should apologize for being so uncompromising before," A slight chuckle escaped his lips as Alastor squeezed your hands right back.

You let a laugh of your own fill the room as you leaned in closer. "Ah, don't be... I'm just glad you're okay," Before you could catch up, your head came flush against his shoulder. The adrenaline finally wore off, leaving your body shaky and weak. Alastor didn't miss a beat. He gripped your hips to stabilize you instantly. "My dear, are you alright?" His voice was laced with concern, radio static crackling out ever so slightly.

Tears began brimming in your eyes before you could stop them, and a lump formed in your throat. One that you couldn't seem to swallow down. "Sorry, I just..." A hiccup shook your body as your hands came up to his chest, being careful not to graze his injury. "If you would have died... I couldn't bear it!"

Alastor felt his heart ache at your sorrowful cries. Your solemn words only added fuel to the fire. One of his hands unhurriedly came up to the back of your head, cradling your neck as Alastor cooed at you. "Oh, my dear," He allowed you to sob into his shoulder for as long as you needed, only releasing his grasp around your head when he heard your cries fizzle out.

You slowly pushed yourself back against Alastor's chest, sniffling softly as you looked up at him. Before you could process it, Alastor captured your lips with his. Pouring all of his love into the chaste kiss. Your heart fluttered as he rubbed soothing circles into your hips. Your worries seemed to melt away from his embrace. Alastor was your everything, and the fact that you nearly lost him today scared the fuck out of you.

Alastor pulled back unhurriedly, still keeping his face close to yours. He nuzzled his nose against your own before he whispered, "I'm not going anywhere, my darling. You're stuck with me for all of eternity. I expect you haven't forgotten that already!"

#hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #alastor #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #alastor x you #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel x y/n #hazbin hotel imagine #alastor imagine #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fluff #alastor fluff #alastor angst #hazbin hotel angst

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