“In my defense, I wasn’t aiming for her. I just fucked up and accidentally killed her in the crossfire. I probably should apologize for that at some point.”
#👻 guest muse: giratina. #👻 dashviewing. #gira vc if i WANTED to kill her on purpose i would have just obliterated her and her team w antimatter okay #she rly is against hurting kids bc she doesnt wanna be like assceus u kno. it rly was an accident #which is why when dawn and cynthia chose to leave she didnt chase them. if she was out for blood she would have just zapped them
Dawn’s time in the Distortion World likely would have been a lot worse without the Lake Trio there. In a strange way, they seemed to be protecting her, and guiding her through the maze that was the realm. It was hard for her to comprehend just how such a place could exist. When she’d try to look at the time on her Poketch, the clock was rapidly counting through the minutes and hours with no clear direction, and there were areas with very intense gravity and none at all.
She’d often see the shadow of Giratina pass by, and the presence of the legendary made the hairs on the back of her neck rise. After reaching the bottom of the Distortion World, she’d have her fight against Giratina. Giratina a titanic legendary, and she honestly felt like her team was nothing but flies bothering her. A rogue Aura Sphere was what Dawn was caught up in, ultimately killing her, and nearly her Empoleon as well. Cynthia intervened and made attempts to keep Giratina at bay, while Dawn’s soul separated from her body in that moment.
There was nowhere for her spirit to go, and no one that could come and collect it. For Dawn, it was like a weird out of body experience, witnessing the scene from a bird’s eye view. She saw her crumpled and bloodied body, and saw Cynthia’s Garchomp going toe to toe with Giratina. After a few moments, with nowhere to go, her soul returned to her body. Dawn was running on pure adrenaline in that moment, and was able to get up despite her injuries to withdraw. Cynthia also left, knowing full well there was nothing either of them could do to take down a member of the Creation Trio. She rushed Dawn out of the Distortion World and to a hospital immediately, Dawn and her Empoleon being rushed into surgery, as they’d both taken hard hits and lost a lot of blood.
Dawn’s recovery in the hospital was nearly two weeks. In that time, she only recalled seeing her mother visit once, if only to sign papers as Dawn’s guardian. Her friends, some of the gym leaders, and Cynthia would visit her frequently to check up on her, filling her in on everything that happened after they leapt into the parallel dimension. Galactic was falling apart with the disappearance of their leader, Johanna put on a sob show for the media to garner sympathy (if only they knew how she really treated her daughter), and everyone was in an uproar over her and their Champion vanishing.
After she recovered, Dawn resumed her journey. She now sported a long scar going down the middle of her chest, matching the one her Empoleon received in the fight as well.
#👻 headcanon. #death tw#long post#blood tw #btw she was like. 11 almost 12 when this happened #i wanna write so today might just b a lot of hcs dngnfh #dawn seeing her poketch clock rapidly go through all of the hours: oh ok that's fine
cw: blood, injury, cauterizing, referenced past abuse
“I don’t have the right equipment here.” Lee snapped.
“You have a fire, and I have a stick.” The captain said.
“A stick?” Lee drawled.
Please stop fighting. Kevia wanted to beg. All they could do was curl up closer to the captains chest and whimper softly. Their words were stuck somewhere in the throat under layers of pain.
“They’re going to bleed out,” Kevia flinched at the captains words, but she didn’t seem to notice. “We can only compress the wound for so long. What we really don’t have are proper medical supplies. This is all we can do for them.”
Lee grumbled, then drew her knife. For a fleeting moment Kevia thought she might stab them with it and be done with them, but instead she shoved the blade into the fire. She shot the captain a look.
“I have a better stick.”
The captain just shrugged, and tightened her hold on Kevia. She had been gentle with Kevia ever since they’d been injured, and insisted on bringing them along. It was new to them, they were fairly sure that the princess would have left them or, because they knew too much, killed them. Their weakness was only holding the captain back. Every moment they spent here arguing over the best way to close the wound was another moment the enemy could catch up. Kevia shivered against the captains hold, even though they were plenty warm.
“It’s alright dear,” the captain murmured. “This is going to hurt like nothing you've ever felt, but it’ll be over soon and you’ll be okay.”
Kevia wanted to laugh. How did the captain possibly think they hadn’t been burned before? Hadn’t they noticed the little burns across their shoulders and back? The large one on their foot? No. The captain had never examined Kevia like that. She didn’t care what Kevia looked like, if their skin was a clean slate or not. She didn’t look to the injuries she created like she’d made a piece of art.
Kevia didn’t laugh. They just grit their teeth and turned their head to the captains chest. They hated the vulnerability, the weakness, they showed. But the captain had insisted on holding them. Insisted they stop and help them before they moved on. So for once in their life Kevia was going to take advantage of that. And maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t come back to bite them.
“It’s ready.” Lee muttered. Kevia tensed. They had been burned before, so they knew how bad this was. But they let the captain roll them closer to the fire. Held still as the two women positioned themselves, the captain ready to uncover the wound on Kevias side, and Lee fingering the hilt of her blade. All Kevia did was grab a fist full of the captains jacket. If the captain noticed, she didn’t say anything.
A look passed between the two women, then they were moving. The captain uncovered the wound, Lee drew the knife from the fire and pressed it forwards, and Kevia screamed. The captain pinned them to the floor as they grit their teeth together. They tried to stop screaming, they really did. They tried to hold themself still on the floor. They tried to focus on their grip on the captains jacket.
It didn’t work.
Instinct took over and they thrashed. But soon a weight pinned them to the floor. The captain was on top of them, talking, and it took a moment for the words to filter in.
“-one. It’s done, Kevia, listen to me. It’s over but I need you to hold still, okay? Kevia? Can you hear me? It’s done.”
Kevia sucked in a gasping breath, opening their eyes to see the captains face leaning over them. They went as still as they could, but their muscles still twitched and spasmed, begging them to move away from the pain.
Kevia whimpered, and the captain smiled.
“There you are,” she said. She eased off of Kevia, but when they went to sit up she placed a hand firmly on their shoulder. “Stay put. We don’t want to you reopen that, let Lee dress it.”
Lee was beside Kevia, applying salves and muttered apologies. Kevia barely heard her. They stared dizzily up at the ceiling. The captain threaded her fingers gently through their hair and not for the first time, Kevia wondered just who they’d ended up with.
#im cut tf up #talking#tw blood#———————————————>#————————————————————————————> #literally bled everywhere all over the damn house on the walls floor everywhere #im ok but like.. have glass everywhere in me rn #theres a chunk in my leg i cant get out its just... a sharp bump #and my finger is all messed up geez. avoiding stitches with superglue and rubbing alcohol 💁🏻♀️
image descriptions: 2 drawings of a person, from the thighs up, standing & holding onto a hand & arm. The person is an older adult with pale skin & shaggy orange hair, a short mustache & beard, & wearing a long-sleeved green shirt & a navy puffer vest. They look over their shoulder warily, their pupil glowing yellow. They're holding onto a pale severed right hand with blood streaming down from it, & with their other hand hold up the stump of the arm with a brown cloth wrapped around it. They are lit by a sort of yellow flashlight beam, with the edges of their body & the background shrouded in darkness.
The second image is the uncolored pencil outline of the first, with the subject left a pale paper grey, & the background a darker grey. End ID.
So far, only the right hands of the victims have been found, but a forensic study revealed that the hands were removed postmortem, which brings the suspect victim count up to seven.
#traditional art#digital art#sketch app#goretober #lost in vivo #image described #lonely dog draws #blood/#dismemberment/ #day 16: amputation !!!!! #this is my design for the player character from The Wolf tape in LIV #which is what the caption is also from! #does this count as fanart. or original art. it's derivative art #i luv this tape so much it makes me so scared every time & i've already played it so many times YAHOO #also i think it's rly interesting... i want to know more abt the seven hands & the idols & wolf & the moon stuff & whatever. udjw=h@$djs.&%
holding myself back from kaleidoscope ethan winters
#listen to kaleidoscope by flower face. if ur in the right mind #crab speaks #re on main #like its. ok just trigger warning for the song ok #idk what to tw it for but like. #bugs and medical scenerios and being hunted and falling into madness and more bugs and flowers #and abandonment and falling into madness and loneliness and eating. #drawing ur own blood to examine it and taking things that numb u and nightmares and #like idk man . idk
Warnings: blood, injuries, taking care of injuries, blood loss, needles, stitching
Inch by inch, Zelda pulled her hand back when she realized Link would not help her from the horse after he had slipped from the saddle. To her dismay, the old, much-practiced gesture between them hadn’t survived his memory loss but she had no right to feel a sting at his sudden lack of manners. With a little bit of effort to keep her knees covered with her formerly white prayer gown, she followed—only to bump into him as soon as her feet touched the ground.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she squealed, putting a few steps between them. The awkwardness in the direct aftermath of her return from her fight with Calamity Ganon was palpable. She had offered words of praise, but they washed over Link as if she had spoken them in ancient Gerudo. The question of if he remembered her remained unanswered, leaving her biting her trembling bottom lip. Even on their ride from Hyrule Field back to the castle, they had barely spoken.
In her haste to fill the emptiness between them, she offered another barrage of apologies.
Again, Link hardly reacted.
She held back a sigh, not wanting to push herself onto him so soon. It wasn't that he owed—she paused, frowning.
Only now Zelda saw that he was bent over, hand resting on his thigh. His short gasps for air rang through the afternoon.
“Link? What…?” She was at his side again in a beat.
“Just a scratch,” he muttered, swaying back and forth.
The realization that something was wrong started slowly, but then it hit her with full force. She hadn’t even asked if he was injured after his epic battle!
Oh, she was a fool. She had seen him flying through the sanctum like a rag doll and he had at least taken five or six heavy blows. He wasn’t impolite, he was injured! And she had been worried about his memory of all things.
With flying hands, she tried to find the source of his pain.
It didn’t take her long.
The underpart of his tunic was tinted dark red instead of blue, the fabric even glinting with telltale moisture.
“Link!!!” She tried to push his shoulder up so that he met her gaze, regretting the rash gesture immediately when he winced. She needed to calm down or she would get him killed with her mindlessness. Again.
“‘m just sitting ‘wn a bit,” Link mumbled, starting to walk towards the remnants of the old outpost where he had prepared a place to stay for them. A squishing sound shot her out of her stupor. Oh Hylia, she was not going to stand by when he was gravely injured again. This time, she had no Sheikah Warriors who would take him to the Shrine of Resurrection.
Tripping over a loose cobblestone, she caught up to him, offering him her shoulder to lean on. He waved her off. Why was he so stubborn? He was bleeding out, couldn’t he see that?
“Link. That’s not just a scratch. Your tunic is soaked, don’t play it off!”
His words were too quiet for her to hear. Dragging his feet, he entered the small room that had been part of the castle wall once and dropped to a bedroll. “Just need a nap, ‘k? Piggy had some ‘ancy moves.”
Zelda crouched beside him. “Don’t be ridiculous, we need to take care of this!”
“Have had it worse.”
“Yes, you have and you are not dying on me again, Link! I will not allow it!” Zelda was on the top of her voice when she pointed her index at an unscathed spot on his chest, but she couldn’t care less. The nerve of this boy!
“Do what ya must.” His head fell on the bed roll and he closed his eyes.
Zelda stared at him a moment too long. Was he just going to try to sleep? He hadn’t been at the verge of fainting, as far as she could tell—his breathing had kicked up a bit, but he wasn’t panting and he wasn’t confused. Reluctantly, she laid her palm on his forehead. A little heated, but not feverish.
“Hey.” His lashes fluttered open. “You’ve done that before, I remember that. Death Mountain.”
A laugh bubbled in her chest. “Yes. You were as stubborn as you are now.”
He hummed and closed his eyes again.
“I’m going to look after the wound now. Don’t move unless I say otherwise, alright?”
With pointed fingers, she rolled his tunic up, beyond the slash, up to where it was still blue. The fabric was heavy with blood. She took a deep breath, ignoring the iron smell as best as she could. She couldn’t afford a flashback to the last time, couldn't afford falling into a haze. Focus, Zelda.
A look around proved that he had at least not been careless in his preparations. Thank Nayru. Two bedrolls were spread out on the ground and just behind the newer one stood his pack next to some cooking utensils. With a last look at the ugly gap in his side, she secured the tunic above it, and wiped her fingers on her dress.
A muttered "left bag" came from her side, and she allowed herself a brief smile. At least, he accepted her attempt to take care of him.
To her relief, he had a first-aid kit, similar to the packs the soldiers used to have a century ago.
"You recalled the soldier's principles," she said smiling and waved the bundle while she came back to him.
"Soldier… what?" He peeked from under his arm that he had laid over his eyes. "Nah, got that from Sidon. Lad said I can't rely on his sister every time I get crushed."
Heat washed over Zelda's face when she examined the utensils.
"So… you don't remember everything?"
She couldn't stand another silence, so she took a cloth out of the pack and began to wipe up the sides of the wound. The flow of the blood had slowed since he had laid down, and as far as she could tell, the slight slur in his voice was not getting worse. Yet. It was hard to tell how much blood he had already lost on their way here—riding a horse had surely not helped.
"Well," he finally took his arm from his eyes only to stare blankly at the far-away ceiling of the outpost, "if I don't know what's there, I can't tell if it's all."
It was her turn to hum, determined to leave it at that. Skeptically, her gaze traveled from the gash on his side to the sewing kit in the first aid pack.
"Link? I… I think I need to stitch you up. You have a veritable slash in your abdomen extending even to your side." She leaned closer. "It's… it’s not too bad. I… I can’t see inside your, uhm, abdominal cavity, so therefore it’s unlikely you’ve damaged any organs."
A grunt was all he had to say.
"It's still bleeding. If we leave it like that, you might lose too much blood."
"Can't I sleep first? 'm tired."
Zelda glanced at his wavering eyelids. She wasn’t experienced in field care, but something told her that he better stay awake.
“No, I need you here with me.” With trembling hands, she pulled out a needle and thread, pushing the tiny end in the eye in the third attempt. She knew how to sew, but skin? “Why don’t you tell me something about your quest?”
“Thought you saw everything.”
So, he had listened to her little speech, after all. She tied a knot at the end of the thread and while her gaze lingered on his side, she pushed the nausea away. The sand seal plushie she got from Urbosa once had a slash in its belly, too. It was the same. She just had to think of fabric and wadding. Fabric and wadding. Fabric and wadding.
When she gently tried to push the gap together, Link’s head snapped up, causing her to lose the tension and releasing his flesh. A gush of blood seeped into the rag she had placed under him.
“Y’a not seriously sewing me together.”
The needle in her hand froze, and a little belatedly she pulled her other hand from his belly.
“I…” She swallowed harshly. “I was planning to. We have to close the wound as best as we can.”
“Yes? You have scars already from that treatment, don’t you reme—” She bit her tongue. He didn’t remember.
He collapsed on the bed roll. “That’s insane. Sewing skin.”
“I’m sorry, Link. The bleeding won’t stop and the risk of an infection is higher, too.”
The words rolled off her tongue, before it kicked in a second later: infection—oh Nayru, she needed to clean the wound! And her hands! How could she be so careless? With one hand, she searched through the first aid kit. There, the liquid. That was surely for disinfection. Yes, it smelled as sharp as liquor. She rubbed a swig of the alcohol onto her hands, ignoring how it burned in the little cuts she still had from their flight one hundred years ago. Oh, oh, Link wouldn’t like this. She hovered over the edge of the wound with a tinted cloth, but it was no use.
“This is going to burn. I’m sorry.”
With firm hands, she set to work, mentally deafening her ears to his muffled cries. She only halted when he hissed, “And I thought you stopped hating me.”
“What? I don’t…” That was his conclusion of the memories he had regained? Wiping one last time, she put her hand on his arm to reassure him, stroking him with her thumb. “I never hated you, Link. In the beginning, I just wanted to avoid you because you reminded me of my own shortcomings. I know better now.”
He slackened once she had stopped tormenting him, but she couldn’t tell if her words had reached him.
Even more cautious after the pain she just caused him, she picked up the needle and gently pressed the wound close again. Heart in her throat, she pushed the needle through the first spot of —oh Hylia— of flesh. Fabric needed a little seam allowance to keep it from fraying but skin? She placed the next stitch a little farther in the unscathed skin.
Link winced and tried to turn away from her. “Are you kiddin’ me, girl? Sweet mother of Farore, that’s a freakin’ joke. She's stitching me together like a bursted pillow.”
Zelda blinked her stupor away and pressed him back down on the mattress. Never in all those hours they had spent together had she heard him cursing. Well, at least he was talking and conscious. It could be worse. But she had better check his pulse. She fumbled with the needle until she had one hand free and laid her fingers on his neck. A little quick, but that thought was lost when his lashes fluttered shut and he relaxed under her touch.
She had to force herself to pull away.
Silently, she set to work again. She was a comfort to him. But was it because it was her, Zelda, or because he was injured and every caretaker would be welcome? It didn’t matter right now. One hundred years ago, she had pleaded to stitch his wounds when she couldn’t. Now, she would ensure to make it count.
Stitch, stitch, turn.
The gap had closed considerably and it became easier to work. She still loathed the sound of the thread driving through his skin, but at least she could see that her effort had an effect. The flow of blood had reduced to a trickle and she was optimistic that his body would manage the rest. That was, if he didn’t get an infection. Or if she hadn’t overlooked an injured organ underneath the skin. Or if he didn’t have more wounds she hadn’t discovered yet.
“Zelda?” Link whispered. Alarmed at his quiet tone, the use of her name, and the tremor in his voice, she rushed the knot she was about to make and shuffled to his face. “Is it really so bad?”
Somehow, seeing Link anxious doubled her own worries. As long as he was cracking jokes or swearing like a sailor, he gave her the feeling it wasn’t anything serious. That his gaze was slightly unfocused now didn’t help to keep the memory of his dull eyes from a century ago at bay.
“No, no!” Why was her voice so high? You are going to be just fine. Oh, no. She squeezed her eyes shut and forced herself to breathe. “The wound is closed now. I stopped the blood loss. Stitched up wounds require a healing process from one up to three weeks.” There, science. She could do that. “Since the lower abdomen is an area that you move inevitably, I would guess we can’t remove the stitches for two weeks.”
"'m cold, Z-zelda."
"Okay, okay." She dropped the needle, pulled his tunic back, only to reverse the action and search for her tool again. Having a needle lying around in a sleeping space was no good idea. "I'm… I'm going to start a fire. I want to wash the skin a bit and look for other injuries."
"Just gimme a flame blade."
The kettle she had picked up in the meantime rattled to the ground. "What?" Either he was starting to get delirious or his good reasoning had taken a blow as well.
Vigorously, she shook her head to herself. What would that even be? A sword with a hot blade? No, she needed to boil water to clean him and to warm him up.
Kettle. Flint. Fire.
He didn't move much while she worked, but when he did, he moaned and winced. The sound pierced her soul and soothed her at the same time.
"I can't smell the food you're cooking," he murmured, eyes wide open, displaying too much white around his irides. "That's bad. That's a bad sign."
"Link, I'm warming water to wash your skin. You are going to be—"
"—just fine. I know, I know," he muttered and Zelda's heart broke clean in two.
By the time she had prepared everything, he dozed off again. She checked his temperature with her palm. He was hot to the touch, covered in a thin layer of cold sweat even. Hylia knew when the wound had opened so much that it became critical while his horse trotted towards the castle. Why didn't he say something right away?
With too much vigor, she pushed the stained tunic aside and began to clean the edges of the now closed wound. Thankfully, it had been a clean cut. Ganon had probably hit him with one of the guardian axes. An open wound without clear edges would have been impossible for her to close. Now cautiously, she looked for more damage. At his other side, in the area of his ribs had formed an ugly bruise. How did he stand up after that one? The blow must have taken the air out of his lungs.
"Link?" She tapped his shoulder after she had removed most of the dried blood. "Can you lift your waist a bit? I want to wrap the wound, too."
She had to poke him two more times, but then he obliged and she could bandage him properly. There. Right now, she couldn't do much more for him. She cleaned her hands, pulled the bloody rags out from under him, and tried to wipe out the stains of his bedroll. A last look confirmed that he slept again, so that she could finally take care of herself. Off with the sandals and the bracelets. In Link's pack, she found a brush and after she had washed the grime from a century ago off her face, she slumped on the second bedroll. If only she had her clothes nearby… She stood up and peeked through the window towards the castle. No. She couldn't leave Link and her wardrobe was surely not in any condition to help her. Maybe Link had…?
He had spare clothes. A lot. Glancing bashfully at his sleeping form, she changed into some casual trousers and a simple tunic. The colorful lining of a Rito jacket caught her eyes. That would keep him warm.
"Hey," she kneeled beside him. "You should change your tunic, your's is full of blood." Stroking over his forehead, she added, "This one will help you to stay warm."
When he showed no signs of waking up, she combed through his hair. "Come on, I'll help you." She leaned in to speak louder. "Link, your tunic is soaked. I bet that’s half of the reason you are so cold. Let me help you to change." Pressing her eyes shut, she whispered, "Come on, show me that you are with me."
Cool fingertips at the hairline of her nape startled her, sinking further in her blonde curls until his thumb rested next to her ear. Surprised, she blinked her eyes open.
“Zelda,” he rasped. And then nothing else. Instead, he unmistakably pulled her down, down until her face was close to his and her lashes surrendered to the momentum.
He kissed her.
Clammy, calloused, pale—but a kiss nonetheless.
Even so close she could barely make out the words he was uttering after his hand had dropped back.
The only thing that kept Zelda sane while she stared at him was the quick, but constant up and down of his chest under her. His skin was covered in a cold sweat and pale because he had lost a lot of blood. But he was breathing, his pulse was strong. He was not dying. He was not dying!
He was not dying and he had kissed her.
“Link?” she tried, whispering. Nothing. He laid there, bloody tunic and matted hair, as if it hadn’t happened. Reluctantly, she covered him with the Rito jacket. She would try to get him to change later. Eventually, she sat back and hugged her knees, letting all the thoughts she had pushed aside rain down on her.