#let me see

[aprocessionofthoughts]

He's a Phantom

whumptober23 day 27- let me see fandom- dp x dc TW- brief injury summary- Jason encounters the GIW

ao3 whumptober23 masterlist part 6 of DLM

They had been searching for an hour when Jason heard a commotion. He approached the noise and saw three men in white suits on the neighboring rooftop. 

His first thought was that they must be out of towners and that they were stupid to be wearing all white. His second thought was, oh shoot, they’re carrying weapons. Specifically they had weird, glowing green weapons.

He was about to call it in when all three men turned to him, raised their weapons and fired.

Jason rolled out of the way and took out his own guns as he continued to dodge their shots.

He fires off a few shots of his own and manages to hit one of the agent’s legs. But he doesn’t have time to celebrate this victory since immediately after one of the glowing green beams hits him in the shoulder. 

It burns. Jason stumbles back trying to avoid the rest of the shots, but another clips his side and another his leg. He crumples to the ground. It feels like acid eating away at him. His mind is going fuzzy with pain.

He needs to call for help.

He can faintly hear them discussing how best to get to where he is. He can’t let them do that. 

Shakily, he activates his comm. “O.”

“What is it, Hood?”

“I think— I think I found our bad guys…” he slurs.

“Hood, what do you mean?”

Jason can’t bring himself to answer. HIs whole body feels like it’s burning.

“Hood! I’m sending Nightwing to your location.”

Jason can’t acknowledge her. He hopes his brother gets here soon. He can hear the agents walking up the fire escape.

He tries to get up again, but he can barely move his arms.

Then he hears a shout and the sound of the weapons being fired again. There’s a buzzing in the air, the faint hum of electricity, and the cold bite of winter wind.

There’s the sound of more fighting, and he can hear the agents cursing. There’s what sounds like crackling ice followed by silence. Jason tries to move his head to see what’s happening, but all he sees is smoggy Gotham sky.

Then there's a face above him, ethereal in quality with glowing white hair and eyes that remind Jason of the Lazarus pit but brighter.

“What are you doing here?” The voice sounds familiar, but Jason can’t quite place why. He should know this person, but he knows he’s never seen anyone quite like this.

The kid, because now that Jason looks at him a little closer this person clearly looks young, sighs, and goes to place his hands on Jason.

Jason makes a noise of protest and tries to shift away.

“Calm down, let me see.” his hands settle on Jason’s torso.

Immediately, a cool feeling begins to spread, easing the worst of the pain.

“Who…” he manages before.

The kid gives him a strange look then focuses back on whatever he’s doing to Jason. “It’s me. Danny.” 

Jason’s mind blue screens for a moment. This looks nothing like Danny. But then, Jason looks a little closer, looks past the glow and white hair and green eyes, and he sees that the face is the same. Huh. 

“I’m going to take you back to your apartment. There’s not much I can do for your injuries in the middle of a rooftop.”

Jason can’t do anything to resist as the kid scoops him up as if Jason weighed almost nothing. Then a tingling sensation passed over him, and then they were flying.

--------------------------

A few minutes later, Nightwing arrives on an empty roof. “O, I don’t see him.”

There’s silence for a moment before she speaks. “His tracker is on the move, but it’s moving strangely. Almost as if… It’s almost as if he’s flying.”

“What?” Dick asks and then he hears a grunt from beside the building. He walks over to the edge and stares. 

There on the fire escape are three men dressed in white suits carrying strange weapons. But even stranger is that they’re all frozen in a thick layer of ice to the escape stairs, with the ice encasing them to their elbow and a thin layer over their mouths.

“I think we’ve got a bigger situation. I just found some men dressed in white suits frozen to the fire escape. And they've got some strange weapons.”

“Do you think they’re the agents after Hood’s kid?” Tim asks.

“Might be.” Dick answers.

“This might be good news.” Oracle says. “Nightwing, Hood’s tracker stopped at his apartment. I want you to head over there. Red Robin, head to the possible agent’s location. Try to figure out what you can and see if we need to call the police. I’ll send a message to B. His meeting at the watchtower should be almost over by now anyway.”

“Will do,” Dick and Tim answer.

Hopefully, they can find Jason and the kid, and this situation won’t escalate any further. But Dick has a bad feeling that things will only get more complicated.

#whumptober #whumptober 2023 #no.27 #Danny fenton #Jason todd #Tim drake #dick gayson #barbara gordon #jason is liminal #giw #dp x dc #dc x dp #dp x dc crossover #dc x dp crossover #fanfic #let me see

[waterwizardcat]

I want more interaction between sukuna and kenny, I need to know what happened during that one month before the fight with gojo, besides the"promise"thing i bet they played smash bros and mario kart together

#gege when #let me see #jjk #and uraume in the background being like god i wish we can fight gojo now i can't take this guy anymore

[breannasfluff]

Clipped Wings - P2

Whump Rating: 3.5/5 TW: burns, injury description

Link is huddled in the corner of his cell. The yiga dragged him in and dumped him roughly, promising to come back later. His wings—

Well, better not to think of that right now.

Haltingly, aching, he dragged himself as far away from the cell door as he could get. Now he huddles, trying not to move save for the faint puffs of breathing. His throat hurts where the rope choked him. The skin on his back is blistered and weeping from the burns.

He’s not flying again, but that means little, now. The yiga will be back and this time they’ll cut his wings off. Either he’ll bleed to death, or they’ll kill him to hurry the processes. Mipha can save him once, but not twice in quick succession. Nor can she bring back his feathers. Either way, there’s no escape.

What about Zelda? What about Hyrule? Will they have to wait for another hero to save them? Can Zelda hold back the Calamity for that long? Why are they stuck relying on him; an amnesiac who’s barely made it this far? He should have prepared more. He should have trained and collected more supplies.

Link got cocky on that rafter, didn’t he? Otherwise, he wouldn’t have slipped. He should have taken it slower. Or waited for a time with fewer patrols Or—

There’s a noise outside the cell. He flinches on instinct, which jostles his burnt skin. He can’t hold back the broken call, a mash of help, pain, fear! The noise grows closer. This is it, they’re going to drag him out and kill him, as many times as it takes before Mipha’s power can’t save him.

A shadow across the cell door and Link tucks himself into the wall, like they won’t see him in the small space.

“Oh, Link.” It’s not a yiga’s voice, but a girl’s voice. Younger, high-pitched. Riju. “What did they do to you?”

He stares, unable to process. What is she doing here? Why—how—

“Let’s get you out of there. Buliara took care of some of the guards, but we need to be quick.”

“Barta,” he rasps because the Gerudo shouldn’t be left here.

“Already free, and in better shape than you.” Riju is steadily working through a ring of keys on the lock, giving a little grunt when one works. She pulls the door open. “Once we get free, you can fly back to Gerudo Town and we’ll follow on sand seals.”

Link stares at her and shudders. Slowly, using the wall for support, he pulls himself to his feet. Everything aches and burns. Sharp stabs of pain on his back have him grunting, trying not to move his wing bones.

“Link? What happened to your wings?”

He only closes his eyes and shakes his head. He makes it across the cell and Riju backs up to let him out. Link doesn’t look at her face when he passes, but he hears her gasp at the sight of his back.

“Your wings. What…”

“Let’s go,” he rasps. If he ever comes back, he’s killing everyone in the base.

“Buliara was finding your supplies. Come on, we’ll see what we can do once we are free.”

The journey back is silent. At first, it’s for stealth, and then it’s because no one wants to address the topic of Link’s wings. The Gerudo may be wingless, but they have enough hylian visitors to understand the damage done.

The desert does little favors to his wounds. Sand sticks to the weeping burns, irritating with every brush of air. While they brought a potion, the wing skin needs to be cleaned of sand and dirt before healing will work. It does help his throat, at least, erasing the soreness.

Link follows Riju through a back entrance of the palace and down a series of corridors until they stop at a secluded room. There’s a large shallow pool, steadily fed with water flowing in and out through a trough in the floor. The shape is odd and, at Link’s questioning look, she explains.

“This was made with hylian wings in mind. Easier to bathe wings with room to spread them out. We…” she trails off and looks at Link, who stares back. “We need to clean your skin.”

“I can do it.”

Riju only shakes her head. “It’s okay to need help.”

“I can do it!” He clicks his teeth in an aborted snap. His wings start to rise, defensively before he freezes. Pain rolls across the damaged appendages, sinking burning claws deeper. It takes a long moment of breathing to get through it.

Buliara knocks and pokes her head on. “Does the voe need help?”

Link tenses further because if Riju was bad enough, Buliara isn’t even on the list.

Riju, ever perceptive, notices. “Nope! I’ve got it. Thanks, Buliara. Mind bringing some potions and burn cream?”

Her captain gives them both a hard look and makes a face, but retreats. Riju turns back to Link. “I’m afraid you’re stuck with me. Now, your back has to hurt something fierce. Let’s get you in the water, okay?”

She keeps up a steady chatter as she walks around him, nudging closer and gesturing as he automatically moves away. He’s herded to the pool where he finally pulls the remains of his pants off. Dressed in only his shorts—his shirt long gone—Link slips his feet into the water.

He can’t hold back the sigh of appreciation at the cool water; his legs may not be damaged, but it still feels nice. Then he slowly moves deeper, sitting in the water. Link’s feathers would normally be wet already, but now there’s only a strange lightness.

“In the water, Link. You need to clean the sand out and it will help the burning.”

Taking a deep breath, he makes up his mind and dunks himself backward, bringing his wings into the water. The water smacks his burns and he thrashes at the sensation, sending his head under the water. The tip of his wing bone smacks into the tile and he whines at the sensation.

Then Riju grabs his arms and yanks above the water, complete with a string of curses he’d bet good rupees Buliara isn’t aware her charge knows. “Link! Are you insane?”

He coughs to clear the last of the water. “Worked,” he grumbles. The burns on his back are positively snarling, but the parts that are under the water are slowly dulling the burning.

Riju sighs, small shoulder slumping. For all her maturity, she’s still young. She shouldn’t have to deal with this—with him. Link ducks his head. “Come on, turn around and let me see.”

Can he trust her? Does he have a choice? Finally, Link turns and presents his back for her inspection. She hums and he tenses, unable to help from glancing back to keep an eye on her.

“Some of these burns are going to scar, even with potion, but a lot of them will be hidden under feathers. Um. I need to wash some of this sand off before we use the potion. This will probably hurt, but I’ll be as gentle as I can, okay?”

He doesn’t want her anywhere near his back, but he doesn’t really have a choice. Link nods, although the chattering call of wary, danger, hurt repeats in a steady pattern. Gently, Riju wets a soft cloth and pats at the burns, trying to remove as much sand as possible. Despite the differences in situation, he flinches every time.

By the time Buliara comes back in, loaded down with bottles and creams, Link’s wounds are pronounced clean. He sits in the water, letting the coolness ease the burning. This time, Buliara and Riju work together to pour potions across his burns and dab them across his skin.

Only once does he ask, “My feathers?”

Buliara pauses, then continues her ministrations. “Give it time.”

Link nods and curls over his knees. Bare bone catches at the edge of his eyes where normally there’d be blue-gray feathers. Sickened at the sight, he closes his eyes. He’s alive and, for now, that has to be enough.

#let me see #whumptober2023 #linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu whumptober #breannasfluff #mywriting #lu wing bois #lu wing au #lu wild

[follivora]

jere remove those hands from the towel

#let me see #käärijä #kmeme

[downfalldestiny]

Under the rain ☔🌧️🖤 !.

#Rain #Under the rain #magic moments #magic destinations #magical world #downfalldestiny #downfall #life #Moon #Vibes #cold weather #Cold #Let me see

[dreamersbcll]

“You drew stars around my scars, but now I’m bleeding”

- whumptober, prompt no. 27

(hey. let me see. show me)

——————————————————————————-

There wasn’t a word for this feeling.

Doubt, maybe. Fear worked as well. Terror mostly.

But nothing quite like the word desperation would sum up this feeling.

Sam wasn’t an idiot. She knew that getting clean wouldn’t be a linear journey. Fuck, she had gone through this process at least four times, but she thought that it would be easier knowing that she was five years clean now.

Naturally, she was dead wrong.

It started slowly, like most things did. She would find herself staring at the liquor aisles in the grocery store just a little too long. It became increasingly more difficult to ignore the smell of alcohol at the restaurant she worked at, and her mouth watered more frequently. The itching started within a week of the first liquor aisle stare down, and it didn’t stop.

She couldn’t stop scratching. It was a consistent itch all over her body, and her nails couldn’t dig deep enough into her skin. Long scratches stretched across her skin, open cuts ripping each time she flexed her muscles. Weirdly, it felt good to bleed, and the pain kept her alert and aware of her surroundings.

Sobriety was a fickle thing. Just because Sam was years sober, it still was an untamed beast slumbering in the pit of her stomach. When it was ready to wake, it clawed up her body and sat in her throat, begging her to give in.

Nothing would taste better than a drink. She didn’t care if it was cold or lukewarm, fuck; she would even drink a hot swallow of alcohol. Anything to numb the terror that sat in her body.

Once it got to the point that she couldn’t stand the smell of cleaning products anymore, she knew she was fucked. It wasn’t long ago that she was taking swallows of Lysol just to tamp down the desperation tearing her apart. She wasn’t proud of it, not by a long shot, but at least everything went silent.

That’s what alcohol was, anyway. It's a way to turn down the volume and make everything tolerable. She could think clearly and make (what she felt were) rational decisions.

But she knew better now. She knows that drinking was only the start of a tumultuous period that would ultimately end with her death.

(Sam had promised herself that if she ever drank again, she would ensure it was her last time on earth. She couldn’t risk breaking her sobriety and living on to try again. She didn’t want to try again. She was so tired).

Instead, Sam stood in the mirror, letting the dim lights in the bathroom light up her reflection. She stared deep into those dark eyes, noticing how gaunt and desperate they looked.

Just give us a taste, Sam. One sip. One swallow. Give us a chance. We’re starving. Please.

“You can’t, You can’t,” she shakily whispered, her hands shaking against the porcelain sink.

Her reflection stared back, the person in the mirror cocking her head. Sam knows that person well. She knows what they’re capable of, and she knows what they want. Death and destruction were sewn into her bloodline, always there, always begging. All she wanted to do was to give in and dig up the bottle she had hidden in the back of the pantry.

Tara didn’t know about that bottle. Tequila. Sam’s vice. She had bought it on a stormy night and stayed up all night staring at the bottle. She watched the glass glisten in the moonlight, afraid to move. If she moved before daylight, she indeed would’ve succumbed to its silent pleas.

That was two months ago. She should’ve known the downfall was coming. She has an addiction, for Christ's sake. It never ended. The battle was continuous, and she couldn’t lay her armor down. For if she did, she would make sure that she died in battle, leaving Tara to pick up the sword and too-big armor to fight her own demons.

Sam couldn’t have that.

So she fought.

Breathing deeply, Sam swallowed, her mouth dry. She could feel a wave of nausea rolling through her stomach, the monster in her throat cackling at her weakness.

She looked into the mirror, pleading to the reflection. “You don’t need this. You don’t. Stop, just, please. Stop.”

Her reflection didn’t care. It took what it pleased and offered nothing in return. It wanted to destroy every single achievement and chip she had ever earned, all for the sake of a drink.

Pathetic. A servant to the drink. Absolutely pathetic.

“Stop, stop, please. Please stop. I’m good. I’ve been good. Please,” she begged, her nails scratching against the smooth porcelain.

She closed her eyes tightly, shakily breathing out. “Please,” she whimpered, her voice cracking.

Before her reflection could answer, the door slowly swung open, creaking on its hinges. Sam didn’t dare to turn around, afraid that if she left her reflection alone, she would end up with a bottle in her hand and swaying on the top of a bridge.

“Sam?” the voice whispered. Tara.

Sam screwed her eyes shut tight and tried to loosen her grip on the sink. It didn’t matter what she did, as she still looked insane, staring at the bathroom mirror in the middle of the night.

“Hey, Tara. Go back to bed, baby. I’ll be there at some point.”

Instead of turning around and leaving, Tara stood in the doorway, her eyes narrowed, and her eyebrows furrowed—her thinking face.

“Are you having… a moment?” Tara said slowly, carefully, as if Sam was diffusing a bomb.

In a way, she was.

Chuckling, Sam flexed her fingers, wincing at the stiffness. “Yeah, something like that. It’s fine, I’m fine. It’s all good,” she said nonchalantly.

Naturally, Tara saw right through her. “Are you seeing him again? Do you need your medications?”

Sam flinched at the mention of her father, noticeable enough for Tara to cock her head at the action. It had been a while since Sam had seen Billy. It seemed like her demons took a turn torturing her into submission, as right now, she was fighting the urge to break her clean streak. Delightful.

Breathing out, Sam opened her eyes, staring at her reflection. “Uh, no. Not him. It’s something else.”

Tara hummed in response and slowly walked behind Sam, her steps purposeful and loud enough not to spook her big sister. She got behind Sam, her reflection peeking out beside Sam’s. Unlike Sam’s shell-shocked face, Tara looked puzzled, her eyes tinged with somber emotion. Sam shook her head slightly, knowing she was caught.

She might as well come clean now. “I'm afraid, Tara,” she forced out, the words foreign on her tongue.

Her little sister cocked her head, her mouth downturned in a frown. “What are you afraid of, Sam? I'm here,” she paused, thinking over her words. “Show me, Sam. Show me.”

Sam bit down on her tongue hard enough to draw blood. “It’s in the pantry downstairs behind the rice and beans. It’s in that silver bag, the one I told you was a gift for Danny,” she whispered.

Without a second thought, Tara breezed out of the bathroom and went downstairs. Sam’s arms ached as she held onto the sink, but she didn’t move. She watched her reflection as she listened to Tara’s footsteps. The downstairs light flickered on, and the pantry door swung open.

Tears started to stream down Sam’s face, hot, embarrassed tears. She could hear Tara rummage through the dry food, and the bag's crinkling signified the end of her hunt. Sam bit down on her tongue, letting blood pool in her mouth, the metallic tang keeping her steady. Her tears of shame dripped onto her hands, making her grip slippery. It didn’t matter. Tara knew now.

She listened as her little sister made her way up the stairs, the silver bag crinkling as she walked. Sam closed her eyes tightly as Tara walked back into the bathroom, holding the one thing that would take Sam away from her.

Tara sighed at the state of her sister’s tear-stained face, her heart breaking in two as she saw the blood-stained corners of her mouth downturned. “Oh, Sam. Why didn’t you tell me?”

Sam laughed a bit, opening her eyes and watching the reflection of Tara taking the bottle out of the bag, her little sister’s face falling. Despite the anguish on Tara's face, Sam licked her lips, letting the blood paint her skin. Her mouth watered as the bottle gleamed in the light, and her heart raced. It was so close, within arm’s length. She could snatch it and down it within a couple of minutes.

Not taking her eyes off Tara’s grip on the bottle, Sam spoke carefully. “It’s not what I do, Tara. I suffer in silence. If I do it loudly, I’ll lose control. I can’t—fuck. I need it,” she whimpered, her hands slipping on the sink.

She loosened her grip, ready to turn around and snatch the bottle from her sister. If she did it quickly, she could lock herself in the spare room and let herself disappear.

But Tara was always a few steps ahead of her.

Before Sam could turn around, Tara had already unscrewed the bottle and poured it into the sink. Wide-eyed and bordering on a massive panic attack, Sam watched as her sister poured all her desires down the toilet, flushing it until the room stopped smelling like death.

“I— what the hell? Why, Tara? Why?” she cried, watching Tara cap the bottle and set it on the bathroom tile.

In a swift motion, Tara crossed the floor and pried Sam’s hands off the sink. Her little sister took Sam’s hands, firmly holding on as if Sam was about to bolt. She looked into her sister’s eyes deeply, digging her nails into Sam’s skin.

The pain felt so damn good, and it kept her awake. Sam matched Tara's breathing, following as her sister breathed in and out, her eyes never wavering from Sam’s.

Once she caught her breath, Tara loosened her grip and cupped Sam’s face with her hands. There, Tara searched Sam’s eyes, watching Sam’s every move. Still full of slight rage and overwhelming confusion, Sam stayed silent.

“I can’t have you leaving me again. I won’t allow it. I know you’re struggling; I’ve seen it for days. That-” she said, pointing towards the empty bottle. “That is just a way to torture yourself. Not anymore.”

Tara pulled her big sister into a tight hug. Sam sank into her embrace, tears of embarrassment soaking into Tara’s t-shirt. Her little sister hummed, swaying the two back and forth. Once she felt Sam limp like a rag doll in her arms, Tara spoke again.

“I’m here. It’s time for you to get your shit together. You’re five years clean. I’m not letting you throw that away for a drink. I’m here. Let's get through this together, yeah?” she soothed, rocking the two back and forth.

Sam nodded against her embrace, kissing her sister’s shoulder.

She didn’t take her eyes off the bottle until Tara dragged her out of the room.

They smashed it on the sidewalk the very next day. As they watched the glass explode across the pavement, Sam could feel herself breathe again.

#scream #sam carpenter #tara carpenter #carpenter sisters #whumptober2023 #let me see #ao3 author #scream vi

[skyward-floored]

Whumptober Day 27: “Let me see”

Can you tell I needed a little break from just Links... anyway Dot = Four’s Zelda. I subscribe to the theory that Four called her Dot even before lu cause she has freckles, cause it’s cute mostly. Seems like something he’d do.

Warnings: off-screen torture, injury, blood, a little violence

————————————————————

Dot usually considered herself calm in a crisis.

She’d dealt with three separate kidnappings/kingdom takeovers now after all, along with all sorts of other smaller problems, and was good at rolling with the the punches of life.

Whether they were at the level of demon bats that took over the kingdom and turned her to stone, or just knights having trouble keeping their swords sharp, she kept a level head and cheerful attitude.

But it was hard to stay composed when she could hear Link’s screams from somewhere outside her cell.

Dot hit her hand against the bars for the dozenth time as she heard another cry, ignoring the ache in her fists as her throat tightened.

She and Link had both been captured, by enemies Dot didn’t recognize, but that Link— or Four she supposed, did. He had finally ended up back in his proper time again, and Dot had been ecstatic to see her best friend after so long. The other heroes Link was traveling with had left them alone, but they’d barely even gotten away from the castle by themselves before they were surrounded by soldiers in red.

They’d been horribly outnumbered, and before either of them could do anything, they’d had scythes put to their throats, and been taken away in a flash of smoke and red tickets.

The enemy soldiers had left her almost entirely alone, though Dot knew Link was purposefully making sure their attention was on him. She hadn’t even heard what they’d wanted from them, but before she knew what was happening, Link was dragged away and she’d been tossed into a cell.

And she’d been here ever since, listening to Link scream with an increasing desperation.

She crossed her arms tightly over her middle as she heard another scream, wishing desperately she could help Link. Nothing she’d tried to get out so far had worked, but if she had to listen to him being hurt any longer while she just sat here and listened, she’d scream herself.

There must be a way out of here!

She aimed a kick at the bars, listening to them rattle with fear pulsing through her chest. Link’s screams had stopped for the moment, and she hoped desperately it was because they were done with him, and not because he couldn’t scream any more.

How she wished she could use her magic. But there was some kind of dark spell suppressing it, all around her cell, and she couldn’t so much as light up her pinky finger.

Another scream rang out in the distance, and she rested her head on the bars, feeling her eyes water. How could she get out of here? How could she help Link?

...Would he even still be alive once she figured something out?

The same noise of smoke and tickets reached her ears, and Dot startled, looking up. Two of the soldiers appeared outside of her cell, and one raised his weapon threateningly while the other unlocked the door.

“No funny business, your highness,” he said as they let her out.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” she said coolly, already looking around and wondering what the best way to slip away from the two was.

The two soldiers tied her arms behind her back, and marched her along the hallway, Zelda’s eyes darting around what she knew was an abandoned soldier’s outpost a fair distance from the castle.

But it wasn’t too far.

“Where are you taking me?” she asked innocently, and one of the soldiers chuckled a little.

“Your friend has been rather uncooperative. We’re hoping some... additional persuasion, will be helpful,” he sneered.

Fear tightened in Dot’s throat, for both herself and Link, but she swallowed it back, and tried to access her power again, even though she knew it would be fruitless.

But then she felt a familiar warmth at her fingertips, and blinked in surprise.

The spell suppressing her powers had only been placed over her cell.

Dot smiled just a little, and carefully burned away her ropes so when the moment came she’d have her hands free. She didn’t know exactly where Link was, so she’d have to bide her time for a bit until the soldiers took her to him.

Fortunately it wasn’t much longer before they stopped outside of a door, one without any way to see through it. The one soldier moved to open it, but then Dot moved, jumping backwards and letting the light in her hands burst towards the soldiers.

They both went tumbling backwards as the light hit, knocking into the wall and sliding to the floor. Neither moved to get up, and Dot smiled, glad she’d been practicing. Her powers were still a difficult skill to handle, but she’d been getting better.

The door opened then, and three more soldiers came out, immediately leaping at her as they noticed their comrades on the ground.

Dot used the same light to knock them all backwards, but one of them leapt out of the way, raising his weapon to strike at her. She gasped and scrambled backwards, and quickly thrust her hands out again as his weapon swung down.

Light burst in the hallway, and Dot heard a cry as the soldier fell back against the wall, landing in a pile with the others.

Dot exhaled, then ran into the room with her hands up in case of any more soldiers. Nobody was inside though, and she sighed in relief, looking around.

Then she gasped, and ran to the other side of the room where Link lay curled on the ground.

It couldn’t have been more then a few hours since she’d seen him last, but he was a mess, tunic torn to shreds, blood staining what was left. Dot slid to her knees beside him, her horror growing as she took in all of the injuries that had been slashed or hit into his skin, and Link cracked open an eye, the other swollen and bloodied.

“H-hey,” he rasped, then his words broke into a thick cough, red speckling his lips.

“What did they do to you Link?” she gasped, and he closed his eye again, another cough escaping his lips.

“Wanted info... didn’t know half ‘ve what they were... asking. Didn’t tell ‘m,” he breathed.

He curled a little tighter around his middle, face screwed up in pain as the chains holding him clanked, and Dot tried to get a better look at what exactly had been done to him. His arms blocked off her sight though, and she gently nudged him.

“Let me see, Link,” she asked, and he shook his head, face still pale and drawn.

“Don’t need to,” he whispered, and Dot felt her worry grow to a nearly frantic degree as he broke into another coughing fit, a trail of blood dripping from his mouth. “‘M not...”

“Link, please,” she said, taking his hand. “I’m not going to hurt you, but we need to move quickly to get out of here, and I need to see how badly you’re hurt. Now let me see,” she begged, and he finally uncurled, shaking slightly.

Dot squeezed his hand, then gently pulled up his torn and bloodied tunic, breathing in sharply at the lines slashed into his skin, and the bruises beginning to form around them. It looked like they’d gone at him with all sorts of things, and she felt her stomach roll as she saw whip marks on his back.

“Oh Link,” she whispered.

He let out another thick cough, and Dot shook herself, getting to work on tearing strips from her skirt to use as bandages. She wasn’t the most knowledgeable in first aid, but she knew enough to at least stop the bleeding.

...she didn’t know what to do about the blood he was coughing up though.

Link stilled under her touch as she began, his hair falling in his face. The bandana he’d taken to wearing recently was gone, spots of blood on his forehead, and Dot tried not to think about it as she wrapped him up.

“Dot...” he whispered as she finished with the worst of it, and she looked at him, his face pale. He shakily raised a hand, and when she took it, he squeezed it. “You’ll be... faster, ’f you go without me.”

“I didn’t get this far to just leave you here Link,” she said firmly, and Link breathed out on a shudder as she quickly got to her feet, her considerably shorter skirt rustling a bit below her knees. “Don’t be silly.”

She ran over to the table by the wall, nausea twisting in her stomach as she searched through too many blood-stained instruments for the keys to unlock the chains. She finally located them by a pile of bloody knives, and quickly went back to Link, unlocking his cuffs.

He didn’t move much while she freed him, but he gave her a grateful look as she helped him sit up a bit more, holding tightly to her hands. They both sat there for a moment with their hands clasped, and Dot felt Link’s shake a bit in hers.

“Okay. Now we just have to find our way out,” Dot said reassuringly, and Link breathed out.

“Mm. Easy,” he murmured, head resting on her shoulder for a moment. He seemed to steel himself, then raised it again, looking determinedly out at the hallway. “‘Kay.”

Dot began to help him up, and Link‘s breath stuttered, but he managed to get upright with her arm under his shoulder. He had to stand still for a moment with his eyes closed, but once he reopened his good one, they slowly walked out of the room, and Dot relaxed slightly as they left.

The whole room had smelled like blood.

She mostly remembered the path they’d taken when the soldiers had brought them inside, and so Dot retraced their steps as quickly as she could with Link’s condition. He moved along with her as fast as he could, but he put more and more of his weight on her as they went, and soon Dot was doing most of the walking.

“Hold on Link, we’re close,” she whispered, and Link made a quiet noise in reply.

He wasn’t replying verbally to her questions any more, but Dot pushed away the fear and kept going.

Usually she was fairly removed from the more grisly parts of Link’s adventures. She knew they happened of course, she’d seen his scars and heard his stories, but it was so much different hearing your friend tell you with a smile and a laugh how he could barely walk, and actually having to help him walk while he coughed up blood.

The door outside came into view, two guards at attention, and Dot exhaled, stopping at the corner before it.

“I’m going to have to knock them away, hold on a moment,” she whispered, and Link faintly tightened his grip.

Dot quickly moved out of the shelter of the corner, and shot more light at the two guards. One was flung backward and hit the wall with a solid thud, but the other took one look at her and Link and disappeared.

A sharp wave of fear crashed over Dot, and she supported Link quickly to the door, sure that the other guard would be gathering reinforcements.

I don’t know how many more of them I can fight off like this, she thought frantically. She could feel herself growing tired from the repeated use of her magic along with supporting Link, and she didn’t know how many more beams of light she had left in her.

As if he’d heard her thoughts, Link let out a low groan, and coughed harshly, more blood trickling from his lip.

Dot gave his hand a tight squeeze, and pushed open the door, looking around in surprise at the fact that it was almost dark out. They’d been in there longer then she’d thought.

They hobbled outside, and Dot looked up at the pale orange sky, relief beginning to settle over her.

“Look Link, we’re out,” she said softly, and he gave her a very faint smile.

“You’re... ‘mazing Dot...” he murmured, a proud note to his voice, and he let his head flop onto her shoulder. “Love...”

A pop of smoke interrupted whatever it was he was going to say, and Dot gasped as no less then a dozen soldiers appeared and surrounded her and Link. Some were bigger then the others, holding large katanas, and Dot held more tightly to Link as one stepped forward.

“Did you truly think you could escape?” he asked in a low voice, and Dot took a step back.

“Well, I was sort of hoping, yes,” she said in a voice that was much calmer then she felt. “Why do you want us anyway? Link obviously didn’t know what you were talking about, so why don’t you just let us go?”

“Oh we’d barely started on him,” the soldier chuckled. “He has secrets we want, and we will get them. Though... perhaps he would be more willing to tell us what he knows if you switched places with him.”

Dot took another step back, and Link raised his head, his face furious as he glared at the soldiers.

“Don’t... dare touch her,” he growled, and most of them laughed.

“You’re in no state to stop us,” the large one said, doubtlessly grinning behind the mask he wore. “I’m thinking we start with those pretty freckles of hers, what do you think?”

Link let out a hoarse shout of outrage and tried to throw himself forward, but Dot stopped him as he broke into another series of thick coughs, nearly falling over.

She held more tightly to him as the circle around them shrank, the soldiers raising their weapons. Dot gritted her teeth, and dug deep into her chest, gathering every bit of strength she hadn’t used yet. Her hands began to glow, and Link’s grip on her shoulder tightened as she felt herself begin to shake.

The soldier who’d been speaking ran forward, and Dot shouted as she let all of her power burst out of her in a bright wave, throwing almost all of the soldiers back.

She felt her head swim, and despite how hard she tried to stay on her feet, Dot dropped to a knee, Link falling beside her.

Several of the larger soldiers began to get to their feet, and the one who’d been speaking grabbed his weapon from where it had dropped, standing with a menacing tilt to his shoulders.

“Valiant effort, highness,” he said in an amused, and slightly breathless voice. “But it will take more then that to stop the Yiga—”

He moved suddenly, just in time to receive an arrow to the shoulder instead of through his neck.

More arrows swiftly followed, and several of the soldiers disappeared into puffs of smoke, someone shouting that they were under attack. Dot watched all of this, feeling dizzy as she held on to Link, and tried to work up the energy to get back to her feet.

Come on Zelda, you’ve got to get Link out of here!

A shadow fell over her, and Dot had only enough time to look up and recognize it was a soldier, before he swung his weapon towards her and Link.

Dot cried out and immediately moved to cover Link, but instead of a sword hitting her, she heard a pained shout.

She looked over in surprise, and felt a relieved smile pull at her lips as she saw one of Link’s fellow heroes standing in front of her, sword blocking the attack. With one swift movement he forced the soldier backwards, and when he moved to strike again, the soldier disappeared to smoke.

He turned back to look at her, and she felt overwhelming relief roll over her as she recognized him as the one they called Sky, his face kind as he kneeled beside her.

“Are you all right?” he asked quickly, and she nodded, firmly shaking away her dizziness.

“I’m fine, but Link...”

“Oh Four,” Sky breathed, and Link raised his head, looking at him blearily.

He opened his mouth to speak, but broke into a coughing fit instead, more blood spattering his lips. Sky’s face turned more frantic, and he shouted behind him, two more of the heroes running over. They both wore blue, and Dot took a minute to parse them out as Wild and Wind.

Link’s head fell on her shoulder again, and Sky helped them both to their feet while Wild kept his bow out, keeping an eye on the battle around them. Wind pulled Link’s other arm around his shoulder since he was closer to his height, and they quickly moved away from the fight.

The sounds of shouting and swords began to fall away, and before Dot knew it, the other heroes were pulling to a stop, Wind carefully setting Link on the grass.

“Is he okay?” he asked worriedly, and Dot saw Sky swallow as Wild rifled in his pouch, finally lifting out a fairy.

“He will be,” Wild answered, and Dot took Link’s hand in hers as the fairy zipped forward, swirling around his chest and face.

The swelling at his eye went down, though it was still a bit off-color, and Link took a deeper breath as the fairy finished, blinking both eyes open. Dot leaned over him as he looked tiredly around, and a smile pulled at his cheeks as he saw the heroes, the expression only growing as he saw her.

“Hey,” he said, voice still a little raspy from his earlier screams, and Dot met him halfway as he tried to sit up, pulling him into a hug.

She set her head on his shoulder, and he did the same, Dot catching sight of the other heroes smiling nearby. She didn’t pay any attention to them though, and continued to hug Link, utterly relieved that it didn’t sound like he was going to suddenly stop breathing anymore.

He was okay.

“Thank you Dot,” he said into her shoulder, and she squeezed him. “Goddesses, I don’t know what I’d do without you. You saved my life.”

“Don’t worry about it Link,” she whispered back. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

“You too,” he murmured.

He squeezed her hand, and she squeezed it back, and they didn’t say anything further.

#the yiga can time travel too I guess... if the mailman can do it so can they #linkeduniverse #linked universe #lu four #lu dot #you can take this as zelink or not #I was thinking yes but if not that’s fine too #linked universe fanfic #whumptober 2023 #whumptober #day 27 #fic #let me see #writing from the floor #I’ll spare you all the rant that used to be here #suffice to say I’m not doing good #but at least I finished this *shaky thumbs up* #even if the ending is kind of eh

[muncedes]

let me in

#9 posts of what sir #let me see #the j cole profile picture is honestly very taa

[99point9percentwhump]

Whumptober 2023 day 27 - let me see

Sioux City (1994)

#whumptober 2023 #day 27 #let me see #beaten #blood #knocked out #cared for #field medicine #pain

[rd-eternity]

Whumptober Day 27: “You drew stars around my scars; But now I’m bleeding.” | Matches | Scars | “Let me see”

Words: 4.6k Rating: Explicit

Summary: Liam thought werewolves couldn't get scars, but he's seen Theo's before. When he gets another after a simple mission gone wrong, he finally finds out what pieces of Theo's past are permanently marked on his body.

The chimera’s eyes are fixed on his, chest heaving.  “I… Liam.”  He swallows.  “They made it so scars would stay on me, no matter how much I could heal.  It’s a reminder of failures.”  His eyes flick to Liam’s lips.  “Liam.” His thumb brushes a scar on Theo’s cheek.  “What’s this from?” “Surgery,” he says, voice thick, words barely coming out.  “Please.” “Please what?” His heart is racing so fast, Liam thinks it might explode.  “Liam, please just stop teasing me and-” The hand on Theo’s cheek wraps to the back of his head and pulls him down.  The sound the chimera makes is cut off when their lips meet.  Liam grabs him around the waist and pulls their bodies together, hips and chests fitting together, Theo’s back pressed against the counter.  It rucks his shirt up just enough for Liam to slide his hand up, rocking against Theo, who breaks away from his lips with a gasp.  Liam goes back in, kissing him harder, tongue swiping inside the chimera’s mouth when it parts open with a whimper.   When he pulls back, Theo steps away from the counter, chasing his lips.  Liam gives it to him, both arms going up the back of his shirt, clutching at his burning skin.  His own back hits the wall of the bathroom, next to the shower, Theo kissing him with everything he has.

#thiam #archive of our own #fanfiction #theo raeken #liam dunbar #teen wolf #whumptober2023 #no.27 #let me see #matches #scars #smut fic #smut and feels #smut and angst #mostly pwp #fic moodboard

[effervescentdragon]

sewis + hugs that linger for just a second too long 🥺💜

katie beloved im so sorry xD im feeling cunty these days and your prompts are just too good for it 😅 dont read this one either, maybe ❤️

Nico watches Lewis.

Of course he fucking does. Some habits can't just be kicked easily, especially when the time spent doing them was longer than the time spent not doing them. And it doesn't matter how much time passess, or how many times Jenson calls him out on it, or how easy it was for him not to reach for cocaine every time he felt down in 2017. You don't spend over twenty years with Lewis Hamilton, half of those being his teammate, without getting into the habit of watching him.

Lewis was good at hiding things from everyone. He's had to be. Any weakness was exploited, and if he showed any hurt, it doubled back on him three times worse. Nico knows this, because by the end, he was the one who caused it. But Lewis was very good at hiding things from people, except if those people knew how to read him. Then, sometimes, one could find out if Lewis' car specs weren't to his liking by the way his face scrunched before the race and use it, or see when a comment affected Lewis more than he let on and press on the already tender flesh to distract him enough to make a mistake. But those things only happened if one knew where to look, and Nico always knew.

Namely, Nico used to watch him for other reasons too, but those reasons haven't been relevant for a while. And even if they were relevant, it wouldn't matter, because Lewis refused to look back.

Nico sometimes thought it was his greatest victory, making Lewis go out of his way to pretend Nico didn't exist.

Sometimes, though, it just felt like his biggest defeat.

So Nico watches Lewis in the paddock sometimes. It's hard not to, when he's so sure of himself, walking around with an easy expectation that the path before him will clear itself. The annoying thing is that it does, always. It makes Nico smile every time he sees reporters scatter, aware they won't be getting anything from Lewis, except some good pictures if they position themselves right.

It's happening now, too. Lewis is walking through the paddock, Angela in tow, and Nico has to admit that his styling today is good. Sometimes Lewis missess in his fashion expression, but as more time passess, the less it happens. These days, his styling is almost impeccable. A Sky reporter goes to intercept him, but Lewis doesn't even register him. He just walks past, unbothered, an easy smile on his face. The reporter's face sours. Nico knows he's been aiming for a soundbite about the latest war, hoping to provoke Lewis into saying something stupid, like only a rich sportsman can. It's fouble points if it's Lewis, though, because of course it is, and now they will have nothing.

Good boy, Nico thinks. Give them nothing. They'll make something up anyway.

Lewis' smile widens suddenly, and Nico looks ahead at what has caught his eye. He tilts his head when he sees Sebastian walking towards Lewis, Britta talking at him rapidly as he nods.

Nico leans back on the column and fixes his sunglasses. This will be good.

Sebastian doesn't spot Lewis until Britta elbows him almost imperceptibly. The moment he sees Lewis he grins, and they do the handshake-then-a-half-hug thing befor ethey separate and start talking animatedly. Except; Nico knows Lewis.

Lewis lingers for just a moment too long after the hug.

Nico grins. He can spot how off Lewis will be in his time after not hitting the curb right up to the thousandth of a second. He can damn well spot when Lewis lingers too long in a hug.

He leans his head back as he watches Lewis and Sebastian. He thinks they are talking about the GPDA meeting, if the way they're standing close and speaking lowly is any indication. The biggest giveaway is the subtle anger in Sebastian's face, though. It's been a long time since that expression was caused by racing; human rights it must be, then. He shakes his head and tucks a stray curl of his too long hair behind his ear. Nico thinks how he should get a conditioner, but that doesn't prevent him from seeing the way Lewis' fingers twitch.

"Oh," he gasps. "Oh, Lewis, you idiot."

It's good that nobody's near him, because that was a slip he can't afford. Not for his sake, and not for Lewis'. He shakes his head. He'll berate himself later; he has to watch now. He has to know for sure.

It's really in the small things, that's the fact. How Lewis doesn't stop smiling. How he brushes some non-existent lint from Sebastian's sleeve. How he mirrors Sebastian's posture. How Britta looks at him without him noticing, with pity in her eyes. How Angela doesn't, looking everywhere else to see if anyone is watching.

Nico pulls out his phone and pretends to type when Angela looks in his direction. He gives it ten seconds more before he looks up again than he would if it was anyone else looking, because Angela doesn't trust him, and she never did. He respects her a bit for that. Not much, but a bit.

He keeps looking until they part ways with a clasp of hands and wide smiles. Lewis' back is turned to him, so Nico can't watch him anymore, but Sebastian's face is now fully visible as he turns to Britta and continues talking.

It hits Nico immediately. Sebastian doesn't know.

That's... not quite surprising. Sebastian was always very good at ignoring certain things that were very obvious to people around him, always focused on racing first and foremost on race weekends. With the way his career has been going, Nico is pretty sure Sebastian has no time to think about anything else. Nico can't help a small smile at that. He's pretty sure Sebastian won't be racing for much longer. Nico doesn't know how to read Sebastian that well anymore, but some feelings are universal, and once you see them in the mirror, you never forget them.

What Nico doesn't know is how long has it been like this, and that bothers him. He has to know; has to figure out when it happened. He's missed it somehow, the moment Lewis' feelings changed, and that doesn't sit well with him. He doesn't know when it happened, but he knows Lewis.

Lewis is competitive. Lewis doesn't like to lose. Lewis likes a challenge. Lewis doesn't go for the easy option. Lewis leaves enough room on track to avoid collisions. Lewis doesn't back off, except when he does. Lewis doesn't trust easily anymore. Lewis will overtake first before he allows himself to be overtaken.

As Nico watches Sebastian, Charles Leclerc steps into his path with his media officer. The smile on his face is the perfectly polite, Monegasque born-and-bred blandness that still shows off his dimples. Sebastian stops, and says something that makes Charles laugh, and then pulls him into a hug.

They both linger just a moment too long.

Nico can't help but grin.

"Well," Nico mutters to himself. "Yes. That would do it."

#this is. i dont know what it is #i wrote it in 40 minutes bcs it wouldnt leave me alone #let me see #mean prompt thing #f1 rpf #effervescentdragonwrites #my writing #sewis #unrequited #brocedes #past #sebchal #implied #SORRY KATIE ILY

[poopydroopt]

let me see that titanium rod matt 😫‼️

#my husband #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #please #let me see

[skunkox]

I really wanna see more self indulgent drawings of people's listener characters. Like, I wanna see their wardrobe. I wanna see how they interact with their Canon partner. I wanna know what dumb shit flies out of their mouth. I wanna see these characters disheveled from following the plot.

I'm ass when it comes to ecsecuting anything as planned, but it makes me hella happy to see other people's listeners.

Lemme see your yurrivoice characters. Show me your Redacted Audio listeners. I need this shit, bro.

#redacted fandom #yuurivoice fandom #redacted listener #yuurivoice listener #redacted fanart #yuurivoice fanart #let me see #gimme pls

[evillittlebirdie]

Salvation (Kar'niss/Tav)

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight

The land is scarred.

That much Tav could tell without being as "harmonious" with nature as Halsin.

Tav sensed the despair pull at her body. She tried to ground herself with happy memories. 

Her younger siblings. Icing a cake for a birthday. Licking the spoon. It's sweet. 

Grief choked this place from the inside out. Once Tav learned of the curse's origins, she couldn't help but feel compassion for the broken man on the throne. General Thorm did what he thought was right to bring his daughter back.

"A stream once ran through here," Tav pointed out. She crouched down near the groove. She ran her fingers along the meander scar and nodded knowingly. Pity.

There was no one to make a birthday cake for her.

Tav's anxiety over her new companion kept her awake most of the night. Kar'niss could take care of himself. He was physically intimidating. No one would mess with him. But still, Tav felt uneasy about not laying her eyes on him since he retreated to the cavern's depths.

"My, my, someone has their head in the clouds," Astarion remarked with a cheeky, inquisitive smile. "You're usually so talkative while on these adventures."

Tav sighed. Astarion could always figure out when something was going on with her. "The drider… Kar'niss. Do you think I made the right choice?"

Astarion hummed lowly. Despite his nonchalant exterior, Astarion always tried to be a close confidant. Tav knew he was brighter than he let on. He was worth more than his exterior beauty and shallow charm. "That all depends on what you want the outcome to be. If you want a pet or not. I personally would have preferred a cat." He chuckled to himself despite Tav's annoyed expression.

"No one else would have given him another thought. Then again, no one else would have bestowed mercy on a vampire spawn." Astarion softened momentarily. Tav liked to see his face when he wasn't trying to defend himself. He had lovely, round eyes.

"Do try to restrain yourself next time, darling," Astarion warned. "Before you know it, half of Faerûn will drop off their abandoned monsters on your doorstep."

***

Kar'niss didn't like the idea of Tav being so far away from camp. He couldn't see her. His strength was limited, so he could not follow her. But if the battle Tav raged the day he met her was any indication, she could hold her own.

"Your Majesty," Kar'niss whispered gently even though She did not reply. Old habits die hard. Kar'niss wanted to believe she was still listening to him even though her Chosen was near.

He wanted to beg and plead. "I'm weak, so weak," He admonished himself. His hands were wrung. His pedipalps scratched the air nervously. Kar'niss dared to wish, dream, and hope. The Queen, his Majesty, might one day honor him for his devotion. By serving Tav, he served Her. That much was clear.

He still remembered his obstinance. Tav felt empathy for the abomination he was and sought to heal him. And he pulled from her and growled at her like a beast. Tav should have beaten him for his impertinence or at least forced him to crawl behind her.

Still, he was relieved to hear her voice hours later. She called for him, and he rushed to the mouth of the shelter.

But when he approached the threshold, he saw the Pale Elf standing next to Tav. Kar'niss couldn't help himself but growl quietly. The elf reeked of cologne and pomp. He forced himself to disregard the elf, and he bowed his head towards Tav.

"Kar'niss, I'd like you to meet Astarion. He's one of my companions. You might have seen him during the battle," Tav introduced, her words careful.

Kar'niss remembered the elf who picked up His Majesty's lantern. Another growl rumbled in his throat before he acquiesced, "I remember, Mistress."

Astarion raised his eyebrow before his eyes darted at Tav. She returned the nonverbal cue with a shrug. "Well," Astarion cleared his throat, "Let bygones be bygones. Welcome to our merry band of misfits." 

The drider did not respond to the Astarion's banter. He didn't know what the elf sought to gain from it. Kar'niss was never familiar with the other pilgrims and True Souls at Moonrise Towers. They saw him as a monster and wanted nothing to do with him. 

"Is he always this conversational?" Astarion questioned sardonically. 

Tav rolled her eyes in response before taking another step towards Kar'niss. The drider's forestalling stance lessened once Tav closed the distance between them. Tav extended her hand to him. Her hand was small, calloused from weapons used, but delicate still. A soft chirp hiccuped in his throat. He hesitantly reached toward her with his clawed hand. He balked once he saw the difference and yanked his hand back, taking a few steps backward. 

"Gods, he's as bad as the owlcub," Astarion muttered before walking towards Kar'niss. "Look," he insisted, "Once Tav has taken you under her wing, she won't lay a hand on you. She's not going to hurt you. She's...sweet like that..." Astarion turned to Tav, and a small, almost invisible smile crossed his face.

Kar'niss could feel resentment burn in his chest. Even more, as Tav responded with a lenient chuckle. "Smoothtalker," Tav replied, her eyes glancing to Astarion before returning to Kar'niss. "You don't have to take my hand if you don't want to. I just wanted to show you something Astarion helped me with." 

Reluctantly, Kar'niss nodded, "I will see whatever they wish to show me." It would be disrespectful to defy Tav just because Astarion had his hand in whatever she planned. 

Pleased, Tav walked over to a nearby tree with Astarion and Kar'niss following her. Kar'niss looked at Astarion, watching with envy as he strolled. 

Kar'niss was handsome once, like Astarion. Captivating even. Kar'niss never paid attention to veneer vanity. He was a devout follower of Lolth with aspirations of clergy. Male clerics were as rare as True Ice, but Kar'niss believed he could be one. He was punished for his arrogance. 

 Kar'niss watched Astarion's stride and attempted to move with such swagger. But with his many legs, he felt inelegant on his feet. The Queen promised him wholeness. If he proved his devotion, he would be a full elf again. He would walk unmarred. 

He would be absolute.

#whumptober 2023 #no.27 #You drew stars around my scars and now I'm bleeding #matches #scars #let me see #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 fanfiction #kar'niss/tav #kar'niss

[omgiamwish]

Whumptober 2023 Day 27 - "Let me see"

#whumptober2023 #no.27 #let me see #mp100 #mob psycho 100 #art #blood #injury #hanazawa teruki #teruki hanazawa #reigen arataka #fan art #artists on tumblr