#stabbing mention

[puhpandas]

the worst thing about movie Vanessa is that she was terrified to rebel because of real and violent consequences and when she finally did her fears came to life. she was choked. she was talked down to. she was stabbed. she was hurt. and she was terrified through it all

she came back when it mattered most and saved abby and Mike but it put herself on the line. it wasnt just fear. it was a real possibilty. she knew what would happen. she knew how big of a chance there was that it would. and she still came back and paid the price for it because there were people she truly cared about in danger

I doubt she had anything like that before. I'm sure Afton had her so trapped under his thumb that she was never able to get close to anybody. she was never ever to make choices for herself. she probably is a cop to cover for him. shes probably never had a friend who survived long enough to trust. she makes me very upset and that halo imagery with her is so real

#please let her wake up so she can be okay and recover 🙏🙏 #she deserves it #fnaf movie spoilers #fnaf movie #vanessa shelly #thoughts #stabbing mention #choking mention

[redstainedsocks]

Getting wounded by an arrow is pretty funny when you think about it. Someone wants to stab you but from really far away

#silly stuff #stabbing mention #whump crack

[whumperofworlds]

Whumpee: I wasn't injured. I was lightly stabbed.

Caretaker: I'm sorry, you were stabbed?!

Whumpee: Lightly stabbed.

#whump #whump humor #whump incorrect quotes #source: brooklyn 99 #whumpee #caretaker #stabbed #stabbing mention

[superbfurbz]

#furby #allfurby #furby fake #furby community #furby wiki #puk #stabbing mention #emetophobia #ask 2 tag

[linkedspirit-fanartfunart]

[Image Description: A character reference based on the Hyrule Warriors Definitive Edition character screen. One one side, a burning paper describes Hero's Spirit. Hero floats on the other side with a small frown. The transcript of the character description is under the cut. End ID]

These ended up a bit too long to post all together... Especially because I decided to copy the game's methods of describing characters. So I'm doing them one by one.

Linked Spirit Backstory/Character References- Hero

Sky - Hope - Ordon - Wild - Forest - Bean - Wind - Engineer - Rinku - Smith - Mouse

Transcription:

"Hero's Spirit

The legendary hero reborn. They are a brave and determined young individual, with a nervous disposition. They have been on the streets of Castle Town for a large portion of their childhood. As they grew older, they made sure to try and provide as much help as they could for other children in similar situations. They befriended a young woman, sage of water, Marin, whom they are close with. One day, they were offered an apprenticeship as a Page under a Knight of Hyrule, Sir Dawn. They accepted, hesitant, but hopeful for the warmth of a home.

When monsters began to harass the fringes of the town and kidnap people, going just under the radar of more important knights while war brewed with other countries, this young hero-to-be sought to protect his people. The lovely Marin would be taken by these forces of evil. They rushed to her rescue. Only to be stabbed in the back... With a strange dagger that Marin claimed would separate "Link" from the "Hero's Spirit"... Now they are a ghost, with an ability to travel across time and space."

#linked spirit #loz au #legend of zelda #ls hero's spirit #linked spirit au #stabbing mention #character reference

[kuuyandere]

Would it make you happier if you hurt me? I'd let you. Punch me, stab me, slice me open, use me however you please. Do you want to kill me instead? Go ahead, just be the last thing I see before I die. Do it.

#yandere #lovesick #yancore #yanderecore #yandere aesthetic #yandere boy #yandere male #male yandere #irl yandere #yandere thoughts #obsessive love #obsessive love disorder #yandere vent #yandere blog #yandere community #your yandere #your love letters #Just please don't be angry at me. That hurts me more. #violence #stabbing mention #killing #murder

[crash-bump-bring-the-whump]

Whumpril 2024 - Day 14 - Urgent Care

I love whumperless medical whump SO much so this has been eating me alive

TWs: Surgery, awareness under anesthesia, gore, blood, stabbing mention

Tuesday night was going well, Liam thought. He'd only had to help with one surgery that night, and was forty-five minutes into his break when he was paged. "Emergency Room" flashed across the tiny screen.

With a sigh, he slid his hands through short black hair and stood. The rest of his mid-shift meal would have to wait. He was the only anesthesiologist on site at the moment, so whichever poor sap was showing up soon would need him there, just in case.

Pale blue walls passed by in a flash as Liam's shoes squeaked against the tile floors. His favorite nurse, Jesse, met up with him as he neared the emergency room where the others were waiting. "Doctor Beryl!" He said, stark white bangs pinned back, and nervous, light eyes meeting Liam's. "EMS is four minutes away. A young transgender male, severe blood loss reported, apparent knife wounds, it's looking bad."

"Well, good thing I already chugged half a monster, yeah?" Liam said, watching the dark glass of the sliding doors for the ambulance. "Were there any other victims?"

"No, no, just the one. And there's someone already on the way from the nurses' station to meet the...family member? Partner? Whoever the guy is." Jesse checked his watch as flashing lights and sirens screamed into the parking lot. "Oh—and you have your station set up?"

"Always. And we're still on for Sunday brunch? It's your turn to pick, Jess."

"You know it. My turn to pick, your turn to pay." Jesse's eyes crinkling with his smile was the last thing Liam saw before the patient was wheeled in.

A flurry of noise heralded the doors swinging open, and the EMTs rushed in, surrounding a gurney. Clothes had already been stripped away, leaving dark, scarred, bloodied skin open for scrutiny. Gloved hands and gauze kept deep, vicious wounds from letting blood rush forward. Long, black hair was tied back, and equally dark eyes were open and dazed. They wandered, lingering on faces, seemingly trying to follow the ping-pong match of orders and answers.

Liam fell into step with his colleagues as they swapped with the EMTs, replacing their hands and whisking the whole crowd down the hall to the trauma bay. They poked and prodded, setting IV lines and attempting to get answers from the man they worked on as they walked—no one seemed to mind when he couldn't quite answer.

The trauma bay doors swung open to let them into the pristine room, and Liam saw Jesse dart to the blood products. "Grabbing O-negative, two liters."

"Good, good, get the warmer going too. We don't need him going hypothermic." Liam called as the trauma surgeon started to scrub in. "And help Doctor Gene gown up."

He looked to Mariano then as the gurney came to a stop and Doctor Gene spoke up. "Doctor Beryl, start getting him under. His name is Mariano Ortiz."

"On it." Liam pressed sticky leads onto Mariano's skin, then pulled the oxygen mask from his respirator forward, catching Mariano's attention. "I'm Doctor Beryl, I'll be your anesthesiologist." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jesse double-checking the blood was being warmed and the infusion rate was set properly. "All you have to do is breathe and count backwards from ten."

Mariano didn't try to pull away, but Liam saw the peaks and valleys of his already-too-quick heartbeat quicken further. "Hey, hey, it's alright. You don't have to stay awake anymore." He said, pressing the cushioned plastic over Mariano's nose and mouth. "I'll be right next to you the whole time that you're asleep. Close your eyes, Mariano."

Mariano's expression never changed, but Liam smiled behind his mask as he watched him purposely take a deeper breath. Dark eyes grew visibly heavier, fluttering like his lashes suddenly weighed a ton. "That’s it. We have you." Not seconds later, he was asleep, and Liam shifted his attention to the monitors. He watched Mariano fall into deeper sleep, reaching to start tapering the sedative dose into something less heavy.

"Alright, he's under." Liam called, Doctor Gene began to take over and the techs began to swarm again. Electricity filled the air, everyone focused on their specific tasks, guided by Doctor Gene's easy demeanor.

"Analgesics being administered now, paralytic following."

"Let's find this bleed then, start the suction."

"Should we set up the curtain?"

"No, it'll be fine. We can't waste any more time."

Liam let it all fall away, his attention fixed on making sure that Mariano was breathing well as the others worked. Once his airway was secured and he saw that the respirator was doing its job, Liam sat back. Doctor Gene had the most intense job, but the junior doctors didn't call him the hospital's bloodhound for nothing.

Mariano picked a good day to get stabbed three times, at least.

He kept glancing between his three points of concern in regular intervals. Five seconds on his monitors, five on the actual machinery, then five on Mariano's face, always on the lookout for changes. It was routine. Familiar. It kept everyone who came through the operating room safe.

Thirty minutes in, Jesse spoke up. "...Does he look tense?"

One of the others hummed. "Maybe, what was his weight?"

"Two-seventy-one." Jesse answered. "Should we dose him a little more with the painkillers, Doctor Gene?"

"Yes, please. Ten more milligrams, to be on the safe side."

Liam gave the painkillers, watching how Mariano almost immediately started to relax again, then glanced back at the monitors. The numbers were looking good, he was breathing well, and color was even starting to return to his face with the fresh blood circulating through him. Liam breathed just a little bit easier.

Another page came through, almost making him jump. "Emergency Room" it read. "God dammit--" Liam groaned. "We have another coming in, someone keep an eye on the monitors, Doctor Gene knows what to do if he starts to decline."

He hurried out, tossing his gloves as he did in favor of new ones. The ambulance arrived, Liam accompanied the patient back, and after getting them under so that their broken tibia could be reset, he hurried back towards the first trauma bay. With the snap of fresh, clean gloves, Liam took his place at Mariano's shoulder again, and his heart almost stopped.

Almost-black met Liam's eyes, searching, pleading almost. Mariano was awake. His pulse was speeding up. Mariano was afraid. He needed to move. If he didn't fix this, his patient might be traumatized.

Why hadn't anyone noticed?

"Hey Mariano, I see you. We had another emergency come in, but I'm here again." He said, leaning closer and resting a hand on his forehead. His voice was far, far steadier than he felt. He shifted himself to block Mariano's view of his own opened, bloodied body. "Eyes on me, now, I'm the prettiest person here anyway. I'm gonna help you get back to sleep."

Dark eyes locked onto Liam's and he nodded at Mariano. "That's it, I'm going to take care of you, just like I promised." He reached his free hand over to the IV bag that held the anesthetic cocktail. "This is going to hit you in just a few seconds, close your eyes now."

Mariano hesitated, and Liam started sliding his thumb along his brow. Back and forth, like he was trying to soothe a kitten to sleep, Liam kept up the predictable, gentle motion. He eased the dosage upwards, eyes switching between Mariano's face and the monitor showing his vitals. "I'm going to try to make sure that you don't remember this, I know it's not fun." Mariano's eyes started to drift closed again, and Liam felt his own heart start to relax.

He only leaned back again with a sigh when he was sure that Mariano was properly under again.

"C'mon Beryl, you know I'm the real beauty queen here." Doctor Gene teased, before his voice softened. "Sorry we didn't catch that."

"Well--can't say I blame you, those stabs were deep. It happens." Liam admitted. "How's he looking?"

"Just about got him done, then we'll head over for a CT, make sure nothing else is waiting to rear its head. Are you coming with?"

"The other one's a broken leg, and Anise has it locked down until the on-call gets here." Liam kept his hand on Mariano's forehead, watching as Doctor Gene started stitching up the last stab wound. "So yeah, I can actually keep my promise, now."

@whump-captain @whumpr @whumperofworlds @lektricwhump @cyberwhumper @bxtterflystxtches @inscrutable-shadow @honeybees-125

#whumpril2024 #whumprilday14 #day 14 #urgent care #blood #gore #awareness under anesthesia #surgery #stabbing mention #liam #mage of violence #I mean technically an ER is FULL of urgent care

[mysteriousubstance]

Watching YHS but being SO confused at the music,

As they're talking about how Sam STABBED Taurtis, the most serene music is playing

There's tense music for a bit...

But then when Grian is forced to pretend to be Taurtis, the calm music is back.

Such whiplash

#I've read some fics so I'm not Shocked at this #stabbing mention #An only watching the vids with Grian and it still makes a lot of sense because the explain as it goes #So that makes my life easier #yhs #Yhs grian #cori cries

[nonbinarycharmybee]

shadow: are you okay?

rouge: yeah why?

shadow: you were just stabbed.

rouge: *looks down at the knife handle sticking out of her stomach* ...

rouge (<- endometriosis haver): ... i KNEW i was right!

#im not tagging this. follower freebie. #headcanons #mine #stabbing mention #i never see hcs for endo so congrats rouge you're the lucky projection winner /hj

[whump-queen]

For the five sentence thing!

Whumpee let out a small whimper as [intimate] whumper entered the small catered-to room. With chains in Whumpers hands, Whumpee scoots further up the bed away from him, awaiting fearfully for whumpers plans.

The flick of a switchblade was all he needed to hear. The way the blue light flashed through Isaac’s dark green irises, glinting off of the edge of the blade as it clicked open.

Cool metal pressed against his neck, the edge digging in just above his hammering pulse.

That was all he needed to feel. He knew.

Today was the day. He was sure of it.

All those promises to cut him to pretty red ribbons weren’t for nothing.

Today was the day Isaac would finally kill him.

#not technically 5 sentences but here u go<3 #this is not part of a series I just got a very specific vibe for the whumper so #he told me his name apparently #which several of my ocs have yet to do #but this mf apparently has it so #idk name the whumpee ig <33 #I’m not sure if I’m supposed to include your sentence in my response but it was a great opener so I just continued help #below* #how did I sleep till 4 and I’m still exhausted mc #held at knifepoint #answered asks #akias asks #attempted murder #death mention #murder mention #stabbing mention

[just-antithings]

Absolutely horrible take of the day: "Your brain doesn't develop fully until 26, so empathy is hard for young people."

- discussing a teenager who STABBED SOMEONE TO DEATH

😬😬😬😬 also you don’t need empathy to understand that killing someone is bad?

#mod erin #ask #murder mention #stabbing mention

[ollieofthebeholder]

to find promise of peace (and the solace of rest): a TMA fanfic

Read from the beginning on Tumblr || AO3 || My Website

Chapter 99: February 2018

“Hello?”

Normally, nothing good followed someone yelling Hello into a seemingly empty room, especially something like, say, an archive in the basement of a two hundred year old building housing an institution devoted to the study of the paranormal and the supernatural. Conversely, nothing good ever came of answering a greeting cried into an otherwise empty room. Sasha had never forgotten the ancient American grandmother of one of her foster parents leaning down to peer at her through those gigantic coke-bottle glasses and impart a bit of wisdom to her: If you’re in the woods at night and you hear something call your name, no you didn’t. But the voice was Tim’s and he sounded panicked, and he would wake Melanie up if he kept shouting, so she at least needed to shut the door. Jon or Martin could tell him where she was and what was going on.

When she got up, though, and peeked through the glass window out of habit, she had a moment of panic. Tim was standing in exactly the same spot he’d stood to pick up the dropped tape recorder the day Jane Prentiss attacked, bending over in the exact same way, and for just a moment, the wild thought struck her: He didn’t see her! You have to save him!

Without thinking, she burst out the door of Document Storage and barely stopped herself from slamming it as she ran across the floor. “Tim!”

Tim looked up, and over his face spread a look of unalloyed relief. “Sash! Jesus, where is everyone? I thought…” He waved a hand at what was next to him.

Sasha’s brain caught up with the present. No attack, or at least not a new one. Tim wasn’t in danger. He’d thought she was, and the others, which was probably a reasonable assumption to make since none of them were present. As she got closer, she realized he was standing directly next to where they had done the impromptu surgery on Melanie.

“Melanie’s asleep in Document Storage,” she said slowly. “Mostly asleep. Jon and Martin are—actually, I’m not sure where they are. Probably doing first aid. Martin kind of got stabbed.”

“What? Christ Almighty.” Tim turned pale again. “I have to—are they in the office?”

“Maybe?” Sasha frowned, but Tim wasn’t even waiting for an answer. He was already striding across the floor, reaching for the door of the office—

“Tim, stop!”

Tim froze, hand outstretched. Sasha whirled around to see Jon rushing through the door connecting the Archives to the rest of the Institute. From the fact that he held two cups of tea, he’d obviously been in the break room; how he was managing to run without spilling it was beyond her.

She relieved him of Martin’s mug and set it on the desk. “What’s in there?”

“Where’s Martin?” Tim demanded, turning away from the office door.

“Back corner.” Jon closed his eyes and took a deep, shaking breath. “Tim, I’m—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to do that, I—”

“Jon, it’s okay, I get it. You’re under stress, it’s harder to control.” Tim held out a hand and took a couple breaths himself. “Can someone please tell me what the fuck is going on?”

“Melanie stabbed Martin,” Jon blurted out before Sasha could say anything. “She had a bullet from the ghost that shot her in India in her leg, it was poisoning her—he cut it out, but then Breekon o-or Hope, one of the two, turned up and delivered the coffin.”

“The Buried is in there?” Tim’s voice jumped an octave.

“Why only one of them?” Sasha asked at the same time.

“Yes, it—we, we got out of there, but…” Jon closed his eyes and clutched his mug of tea tightly, probably to stop his hands from shaking. “I—think Daisy killed the other one. That’s what Martin said. I—I was having a hard time following…i-it said something about paying our respects, and then said we might want to join our friend, and I—I panicked. I thought it was you. You weren’t here and—”

Sasha’s stomach twisted. Hadn’t she just believed the same thing—that Tim was in danger? God, what was it about today that they were both convinced they were going to lose him, be too late to save him?

Tim’s face creased in sympathy, and he crossed over to Jon, holding out his arms for a hug. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you—I overslept a bit, and I texted Martin as soon as I could, but—”

Jon set down the mug of tea and accepted the hug with a fierceness that belied the stoic, prickly exterior he’d tried to put on when he’d first joined the Institute. Sasha came over and joined them both, sensing all of them needed it. She also took the opportunity to subtly steer them a little further from the Archivist’s office. “Are you saying—what are you saying? Someone—something—is in there?”

“Daisy.” Jon’s voice was slightly muffled by Tim’s bicep. “Martin—he, he got its statement, sort of…e-extracted it, I guess? I don’t know how to describe it. He just…Looked at it, and kept—there was the static, and…” He took a breath and pulled back. “He’s, um, writing it down now. I think.”

“Just finished.” Martin’s voice from behind them made all three of them jump, and Sasha turned to see Martin coming towards them, a sheaf of statement forms in one hand and the patchwork cardigan he rarely wore dangling from the other. His shirt was torn and bloodied like Captain Kirk’s on an away mission, but much like Kirk, the wound appeared to be healed over already; unlike on Star Trek, though, Sasha didn’t think it was anything to do with the magic of television. There was a weariness in his eyes, but it didn’t seem like it was because he’d spent too much energy—more like he was just over everything right about now. “Tim, are you okay?”

“I’m—yeah. I didn’t mean to scare you all.” Tim glanced at the door of Document Storage. “I was coming to…Jon said Melanie stabbed you?”

“Tensions were…a bit high this morning. Yesterday, too, I think, but I wasn’t there for that one. Sasha had told me she stormed out in a huff after a fight yesterday afternoon, and she didn’t have her phone…I was getting ready to, um, use the Eye to find her when she showed up. I made the mistake of—no.” Martin shook his head firmly. “No, it wasn’t a mistake, she deserved to know I was going to do that, I can’t—anyway, she didn’t react well to me telling her what I’d been about to do. Everything escalated and I still don’t know where she found the knife, actually, but she ended up impaling me.” He gestured vaguely at the rent in his shirt. “To her credit, that did seem to shock her out of her rage. Long enough for Sasha to chloroform her, at any rate, so we could take a proper look at what was going on. It was the bullet in her leg, from when she got shot in India.”

“I thought she said there wasn’t one!”

“She said the doctors didn’t find one. I’m not entirely sure they could have found it to begin with. It was…I mean, it was real enough, I managed to get it out, but it was deep, close to the bone, and it definitely, um, had a somewhat complicated relationship with reality. We got it out.” Martin nudged the tray on the floor with his foot. “Probably ought to burn it later, if we can. It’s the Slaughter clear enough. She’d already been Marked by her encounter with whatever Sarah Baldwin stirred up at Cambridge Military Hospital, but—”

“Um—about that.” Tim held up a finger. Somehow he managed to look both sheepish and distressed, which was truly an expression only Timothy Stoker could pull off. “She was probably Marked a lot earlier than that.”

Martin stared at Tim. “What do you mean?”

Tim hesitated. “Gerry’s told you about his flashbacks, right?”

“Yeah,” Martin said slowly. Jon nodded, too.

Sasha shrugged. “He hasn’t, but Melanie did once, in one of her rants. They’re not just dreams, right? He’s reliving the moment?”

“Right. Well…they’re not always his, either. He doesn’t usually know—it’s a bit complicated, you’ll have to ask him to explain. But he had one yesterday, a really bad one, and it wasn’t his…moment he flashed back to, it was Melanie’s. She was at a…a lion dance, I think? Something like that? Anyway, one of the…lions…was attacking the musicians, and they called her for help and gave her a knife and she killed it. There’s probably more detail, but…” Tim took a deep breath. “It was before her mother died.”

“Jesus. She was seven.” Martin turned pale. “She was Marked that young? No wonder that bullet took hold so fast.”

“So fast? It’s been a year,” Sasha pointed out.

“And she hasn’t been feeding it constantly. Not really. If I’d known it was in there I never would have let her help fight the attacks off, but even with that the infection shouldn’t have spread that far that quickly.” Martin stared down at the sheaf of papers in his hand. “God, I should’ve Looked at all three of us for Marks years ago, but I just—I-I assumed I knew all the encounters we’d had. Gerry never really…got that close, before he had us in tow, and Melanie never talked about it, so I just…”

“It’s not your fault,” Jon protested. “Anyway, even if you’d known, what could you have done? You were children, Martin.”

Tim nodded. “If anyone should be apologizing, it should be me. I should have just called and told you what was going on, but…”

“I was already getting out the first aid kit when you texted.”

“Still. I should’ve reached out sooner, maybe I could’ve stopped this.”

Sasha raised an eyebrow. “How?”

“See, Gerry finally realized this morning there’s kind of a pattern to his flashbacks,” Tim explained. “Every time one comes up, especially one that’s not his originally, it’s usually been something that’s been a problem not long after. Like, right before you got kidnapped by Trevor and Julia, Martin? Gerry had a flashback to Daisy knocking someone out outside a bar and dragging him to a remote clearing to murder him, or, well, take him out, I guess, because he definitely belonged to the Slaughter. And he told me after you got back that he’d had a flashback about coming home himself just before you and Daisy turned up. So when he…woke up or came back to the present or whatever you want to call it, he realized there was…probably something Slaughter-related going to happen today. He had an appointment with someone about some books that he couldn’t cancel, so I said I’d handle it.” He looked down at his shoes. “Guess I handled it badly.”

“You didn’t,” Sasha argued. “You texted as soon as you woke up, didn’t you? Even if you’d called, it would have been too late at that point. You couldn’t possibly have got here any faster than you did, and it was all over by then. If something had been planning to attack us, or intending to attack us or whatever, you’d have made it in time to help us fight it off, I’m sure—certainly enough time to warn us about it—but how could any of us have known it would actually come from Melanie?”

“For her, maybe,” Jon said softly. “Even if you’d called and told us about the…flashback or whatever in time to give us warning, we’d have just been more worried about Melanie and she might have done worse.”

“Like stabbing someone out on the street,” Martin added. “Someone who wouldn’t heal so quickly. And if you’d just texted me with ‘The Slaughter is coming’ or something, I’d have panicked about what was going on with you two. They’re right, Tim. You did everything you could possibly have done. This isn’t your fault, or Gerry’s.”

Tim didn’t look convinced, but he did at least drop the subject. “And what were you saying about the coffin? Breekon and—or Hope? Not both?”

Martin shook his head. “Daisy killed one of them. I—I don’t know how much they really think—thought—of themselves as separate, they were always Breekon and Hope, a unit, even before they called themselves that—they were always one being in two, rather than two in one. But the surviving one is the one that usually spoke first, so I guess he’s Breekon.”

“And Daisy killed Hope. Fitting,” Sasha said under her breath.

Not under her breath enough, because Martin turned an extremely sharp look on her. His eyes flashed briefly, but his voice was mild as he corrected her, “Daisy killed the thing that was pretending to be Hope. That was never what he really was. Only what he called himself.”

Sasha held up her hands. “Fair enough. But…Breekon…delivered the coffin…to you?”

“Yeah. Probably hoping to get revenge by convincing me to go in there to rescue Daisy,” Martin said, sounding and looking tired once again. “I mean, it’s my fault she’s in there in the first place—”

“It is not,” Jon, Tim, and Sasha all said at once.

“I’m not going to argue with you about this.” Martin looked as though he very much would like to do exactly that, though. “Point is, it’s probably meant as a combination temptation and threat. Breekon is pretty much the strongest surviving aspect of the Stranger right about now, and he’s missing half of himself—you could hear when he was talking to us that he’s still expecting someone else to say the next sentence—which is probably why it’s taken him seven months to be strong enough to get through the Institute’s defenses and into the office. But he’s still making the effort to threaten us—me—and probably figured I wouldn’t be able to resist the urge to go into the pit after her.”

Sasha didn’t bother asking if Breekon was right. From the look of pure, abject fear that flitted through Jon’s eyes, there and gone in a second, she knew it was—that the second Martin had unfettered access to that office, he was going to attempt to sacrifice himself for Daisy, because that was what he always did and it was worse now that he thought it was his job.

“So which one of you made Breekon go away?” Tim asked, obviously thinking the same thing and knowing not to poke at it.

“Martin did,” Jon said. “I tried to, but…i-it didn’t work, any more than it worked at the House of Wax. I, I’d hoped…I don’t know.”

Now it was Martin’s turn to have fear run across his face. “Don’t lean into that, Jon. Please. I—I don’t want to risk losing you, too.”

Jon bit his lip and shot a guilty look at the door to Document Storage. Sasha’s stomach twisted unpleasantly again as she realized how close she had come to losing Melanie to the Slaughter. Well, not losing, necessarily; Martin was still Martin despite being an avatar of the Beholding, and Gerry was still Gerry despite being an avatar of the End, so the likelihood that Melanie would still be Melanie after becoming an avatar of the Slaughter was…okay, lower than if she’d been falling to a less destructive power, but still a possibility. Still, if she’d leaned into it without them noticing, without anyone to check her…

“Martin,” she said suddenly. “Melanie ought to be waking up soon. Why don’t you go in and sit with her while you record that statement you…extracted? That way you can get some privacy, somewhere that isn’t the tunnels and making you weak, and when she comes round she can see for herself you’re okay and you two can…talk or whatever.”

Martin stared at her. Sasha stared back at him, keeping her expression as blank and innocent as possible and hoping the lack of static meant he wasn’t looking into her head. After a too-long moment, he nodded. “You’ve…got a good point. Will you three be all right?”

“We’ll be fine,” Tim assured him. “And if Gerry gets here before you come out, we’ll clue him in and send him in too. This seems like a day for sibling time.”

His voice cracked slightly on the last words, and Martin’s forehead creased in obvious sympathy. He reached over and gave Tim a tight hug, then kissed Jon’s cheek and headed back into Document Storage.

The moment the door clicked shut behind him, Jon turned to Sasha. “All right, despite your…recommendation, I have to ask. Why did you just happen to have chloroform on hand to take Melanie down? And isn’t it illegal to purchase or sell?”

Sasha thought about lying, or avoiding the question, but something about Jon’s expression said he already had an idea. “Second question first, absolutely, and no, I’m not telling you where I got it. And as to your first question…it wasn’t for Melanie. Not originally, anyway. It was for Martin.” She dropped her eyes and held up a hand to forestall his reaction. “It’s for his own good. I just—I got worried about him, and I worried that he might…go too far. I talked it over with Tim, one day when you two were out somewhere, and we both agreed that we needed to have a backup plan to, well, take him down if he got dangerous. So I, um, did some research that probably got me put on several international watch lists.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Any watch list that would have put you on, you’ve probably been on since before I met you.” Jon sighed heavily. “I won’t pretend I’m happy about it…but I won’t pretend I don’t blame you, either. You’re right. Precautions are…smart. And I’m pretty sure Martin will feel the same.”

“You’d know.” Tim rubbed his hand over his face and glanced at the door to the Archivist’s office. “New question…what are we going to do about that? We can’t just leave it in there.”

Jon hesitated. “Martin suggested maybe taking it up to Artifact Storage, but…”

“Nope,” Sasha said with a shake of her head. “Last memo from Peter Lukas’s office, remember? ‘If resources are needed from another department, send the request in a memo and it will be sent to you if deemed necessary.’ No visiting around. We can’t just take things up there. And I don’t think putting a blatant artifact of the Buried up there would be ‘necessary’ in his opinion.”

“We could always just take it up to Basira’s office,” Tim mumbled. “She’s the only one that wants Daisy back so bad.”

“Tim!” Sasha said reproachfully.

“What? I’m just saying, She got all pissy about her being left behind, even if she did the leaving too.”

“Yeah, but—” Sasha and Jon said in unison. They looked at one another, and Sasha realized—to her surprise—that they were probably thinking the same thing. She gestured for Jon to go ahead.

Jon nodded, then turned to Tim. “She won’t go in after her. She prides herself so much on being logical and calculating…she won’t consider it worth the risk. She probably wouldn’t believe Daisy was still alive in there, let alone that anyone could safely get in and out. And if she climbs in, she won’t have anything to help her climb out again.”

Tim looked back and forth between Jon and Sasha, then evidently decided not to ask questions. “Fine, but…we have to do something to keep the others away from it. Martin thinks part of his duties as Archivist is to take all the danger on himself, no matter what that means, in the slim hope it might make things a little safer for any one of us, and he’s still blaming himself for Daisy whatever he said. Melanie will probably feel so guilty about Marking Martin and being…you know, all Slaughtered up for months on end that she’ll try and atone by going after Daisy, and Gerry feels like he has to protect his younger siblings, which right now includes you two. And if any of them go down there, you know they won’t be coming back up. It won’t let them go.”

“You’re right.” Jon stared at the door to the Archivist’s office.

Sasha definitely did not like that look on his face. “Jon. What are you planning?”

“No,” Tim said, voice full of foreboding. “No, absolutely not, no way in hell. You are not—”

“I have to,” Jon insisted. “If Daisy is still in there, still alive—she doesn’t deserve that, nobody does, Tim. I’ve been Marked by the Hunt—”

“By Daisy herself!”

“Which means it should be easier for me to find her,” Jon pointed out. “You two don’t have that.”

“And how do you plan to find your way back out again?” Tim demanded.

Sasha’s mind raced. It was a bad idea, of course it was, but Jon was right—someone was eventually going to go down there, someone had to go down there, and logically, it being Jon made the most sense. On the other hand, Martin would absolutely throw himself into the coffin after him if anything happened…

Martin. That was it.

“Martin,” she said out loud. “You two have been saying it for ages—you ground each other, you anchor each other. He’s got part of your heart and you have part of his—maybe not literally, but fuck it, these things are more than half metaphor anyway, right? Once you find Daisy, all you have to do is remember Martin and you’ll be out in no time.”

Jon straightened and smiled a little, the way he frequently did around Martin in their saner, less stressful moments. Tim looked unhappy. “You don’t know it’s going to work.”

“It’s the best chance we’ve got,” Sasha said. “Not like he can leave a literal part of his body out here as an anchor. Can’t cut off a finger or toe or whatever.”

Obviously picking up on where she was going with that, Jon gave a thoughtful shrug. “I suppose I could ask…try to get hold of Michael and see if he’ll let me talk to Jared Hopworth. I don’t think he killed him, so if he’s trapped down there, maybe he could, I don’t know, pull out a rib for me to use as an anchor. If you think me having something physical will be better.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you two?” Tim scowled. “Trusting the Distortion or the Boneturner would be the height of stupidity, trusting both of them is so far above stupid it’s bordering on insanity, and it’s not like you just know where your bones are even when they’re not part of your body, or kids would know what happens to their teeth when they fall out.”

Jon crossed his arms over his chest. “Then you agree. Martin as my anchor is the best bet.”

“Obviously that’s the best bet.”

“Good, it’s settled then.” Jon opened a desk drawer and pulled out two things—a small tape recorder and a strip of pictures from one of those photo booth things you sometimes saw at carnivals or in shopping arcades. He tucked the photo strip into his pocket and gripped the recorder, then looked at Tim and Sasha. “Tell him where I’ve gone, and that I love him. I’ll be back soon. I hope we both will.”

“Be careful, Jon.” Sasha hugged him.

Jon hugged her back, then turned to the Archivist’s office and walked up to the door. He squared his shoulders, took a deep breath, and pulled the door open, then closed it firmly behind himself and was gone.

Tim blinked hard, then looked at Sasha. “What the hell did I just agree to?”

Sasha should probably feel guilty about the way she and Jon had manipulated Tim into acquiescing to the scheme, impromptu though it was, but she didn’t. It was their only option, and they’d had to get him on board with it somehow. “The only chance we’ve got to make this right.”

Tim swallowed and turned to look at the closed office door. “Hope you’re right, Sasha. I really hope you’re right.”

#ollie writes fanfic #tma fanfic #the magnus archives #to find promise of peace (and the solace of rest) #sasha james #tim stoker #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #panic #blood mention #stabbing mention #manipulation #guilt #mention of non-consentual medical intervention

[incorrect-quotes-egos]

Comments under an image of a really hot knife cutting bread

Wilford: Imagine stabbing someone with this knife.

Schneep: It would instantly cauterize the wound, so the person wouldn't bleed, so it's not very useful.

Anti: if you want information it is

King: why would you STAB a person when you can have TOAST?

#jse #jse egos #jacksepticeye #jacksepticeye egos #markiplier #markiplier egos #wilford warfstache #wkm wilford warfstache #adwm wilford warfstache #ahwm wilford warfstache #dr. schneeplestein #antisepticeye #king of the squirrels #incorrect quotes #incorrect ego quotes #incorrect egos #stabbing mention #tw stabbing mention #ask to tag

[falseroar]

((Eric makes the mistake of going to Wilford for advice on how to ask someone out))

Wilford: Oh, that’s easy! First you’ve got to get their attention.

Eric: Um, maybe we could avoid anything to do with, uh…knives or other weapons?

Wilford: Ah, of course, that’s more for your meet cute scenarios, accidental stabbing and whatnot. No, how about we play a little pretend and say I’m you, and I’ve just walked up to the person you’re looking to get to know better. That would be you, but not in an existential kind of way.

Eric: O-okay? Again, no stabbing or, or shooting please….

Wilford: Well hello there! Are you from Tennessee?

Eric: Oh, I know this one! Because I’m ‘the only ten you see’?

Wilford: Nope! It’s because I noticed a bit of a Southern drawl in your accent, reminded me of a guy I knew back in the day.

Eric: But…but I don’t have a southern accent?

Wilford: Yeah, neither did he.

Eric: What…? I-I’m sorry Mr. Warfstache, but, but that doesn’t make any sense!

Wilford: Exactly! The less sense the better. But what kind of accent do you have?

Eric: Uh, I-I’m from Ohio, so I guess…

Wilford: Ohio! And you made it out alive?!

Eric: Y-yes…?

Wilford: And just like that, I know two more things about you than I did before!

Eric: That I’m alive?

Wilford: Which isn’t always a guarantee when I start talking to someone, so good to know. And you can use that information to keep the conversation going, you see?

Eric: I…I think so? So you’re suggesting I…confuse people to get them to talk to me?

Wilford: I call it the One-Two Confusion Fusion! Sometimes. Actually, I’ve never called it that before and never will again. What were we talking about?

Eric: That I should go find someone else for advice on asking someone out?

Wilford: Probably. I hear Dark’s been on a date or two, maybe he’s got something?

Eric: Y-yeah, maybe…

Wilford: Although I do think that one involved a gun at some point. Maybe we should just skip straight to small arms training?

Eric: I, uh…I wonder if Mark is busy…

Wilford: Oh yeah! He’s the one who brought the gun to the date!

Eric: …

Eric: He what.

#markiplier #terrible dating advice #wilford warfstache #eric derekson #fanfic #random dialogue #terrible pick up lines #ADWM reference #gun mention #stabbing mention

[staticmonstera]

quick michael shitpost doodle thing

#michael distortion #tma #tma shitpost #doodle #stabbing mention #cw blood #*stabs archivist in a silly way* #dont worry hes jsut being a little bit silly. just a dad. #tad #fuck #i cannot spell for the life of me! #fast typing is a burden #the magnus archives #and then watch this get more notes than my serious art of him

[punch-out-facts]

Punch-Out!! Fact #2

Don Flamenco probably wouldn't like it if you stabbed him in the stomach and left him to bleed out and die at a Wal-Mart parking lot in Indiana

#punch out facts #punch out #don flamenco #gore mention #death mention #stabbing mention