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promptful · 2 years

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50 Reasons to Share a Bed

I am SO SOFT for this. Call me basic, but it's my favorite trope. I love it so much. I will take any excuse to write it. DO NOT ADD.

WARNINGS: Illness. Kidnapping mentions. Injuries. Death/dying mentions. Vague spice.

1) Because you’re sick.

2) Because there’s only one bed, and it feels wrong to let you sleep on the floor.

3) Because I have the thicker blanket out of the two of us.

4) Because you won’t stop clinging to me on the couch.

5) Because you have a broken leg, and I don’t want the guilt of leaving you here all by yourself.

6) Because your health is deteriorating, and I don’t want to miss your final breaths.

7) Because you’re crying as if I’m about to disappear.

8) Because this is what we’ve done since we were kids, regardless of the adult implications now.

9) Because it’s so cold that I can see my breath, and tangling together is the best way to warm up.

10) Because your house was broken into.

11) Because you fear the dark, or what’s in the dark.

12) Because you’re scared to lose me.

13) Because your room is flooded.

14) Because I would rather you sleep here than with someone else.

15) Because you can’t afford a hotel room.

16) Because I prefer your heartbeat as my sound-soother.

17) Because I prefer your phone as my night light.

18) Because I prefer your weight to my weighted blanket.

19) Because you were kidnapped, and I won’t let anyone else get to you again.

20) Because I don’t trust anyone else to take care of you like I can.

21) Because you feel most protected with me.

22) Because what’s the difference between snuggling and hugging? (A lot.)

23) Because you’re visiting and need a place to stay.

24) Because we’re too caught up in the past to remember that we broke up.

25) Because we drank too much last night.

26) Because you fell asleep on my shoulder, and I carried you to bed.

27) Because my bed is the most comfortable.

28) Because you keep the nightmares away.

29) Because we’ve just married and we’re taking things slowly.

30) Because this is an arranged marriage.

31) Because I have nowhere else to go.

32) Because we don’t trust each other, we have no option than to keep one another close.

33) Because I’m dying, and I don’t want to leave any regrets.

34) Because I’ve been kicked out, and you’re the only safe place to go.

35) Because you’ve let me crash so many times before.

36) Because I love the way you wrap around me.

39) Because the little hums you make against my ear to send me to sleep also send warmth down my body.

40) Because your fingertips over my muscles send me to sleep.

41) Because your cat sleeps on my chest. (I’m not here for you… of course.)

42) Because it’s between you and the outdoors.

43) Because we’re making a mistake.

44) Because your breakfast is my favorite thing.

45) Because we’re best friends.

46) Because this is the first time I’ve ever seen you cry.

47) Because everyone else left you.

48) Because I’ll always be the one to patch you up.

49) Because there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.

50) Because I love you.

#writing prompt #otp prompts #prompt list #story prompt #writing prompts #creative writing #fanfiction prompts #rp starters #writeblr #cw: illness #cw: injuries #cw: death #cw: kidnapping #p.

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mmuffncakes · 3 months

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when the anatomy practice once again turns into Cal Kestis. Oopsies. (this one is actually based from an RP!)

#my art #cal kestis #jedi survivor #star wars art #cw: injuries #the poster in the back is The Hu as it should be #he's taking a selfie

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erlie · 2 years

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Fanart of this gorgeous Steddie fic that has hurt/comfort, slow burn, tragically himbo Steve, ALL the good shit!

Read here!

#Steddie #Eddie Munson #Steve Harrington #Stranger Things #Stranger Things fanart #cw: blood #cw: bruises #cw: injuries #art #fanart #the fic is SO GOOOOD #read it!#erli art

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fuzzy-ren · 10 months

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cw: slight nudity, injuries and light ff16 spoilers in the caption//

[ the unspeakable abuse ]

was thinkin about the possibility that at some point clive has seen jill's body scars, particularly the whip marks from the ironbloods' abuse against her during her time at the iron kingdom. :')

i don't usually draw these stuff, but i wanted to draw something different for once to keep my creative juices going.

#ff16 #final fantasy xvi #ffxvi #final fantasy 16 #jill warrick #own art #cw: slight nudity #cw: injuries

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scorchieart · 1 year

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Second to None

Characters: Belle, Chevalier Michel, Clavis Lelouch, Nokto Klein, Luke Randolph

Genres: Action, Suspense

Wordcount: 2.1k

A/N: This is a quick fic based on @the12thnightproject's Reverse Ask Game challenge! I chose 7 of Spades, and my prompt was “No Beta we die liek men.” I had the idea for this story sitting in my mind for months, ever since I started really craving Chevalier's faction to hang out more, and today was finally the day to execute it. True to form, I set a pomodoro timer for 3 hours and worked straight on this story with zero backtracking. I only quickly read it once over to check for grammatical & spelling errors (I hope I caught them all, those keep me up at night) but the rest is pure, raw Scorchie-brain. I only ask that you don't think differently of me after reading this, though I completely understand if you do...

Warnings: Fighting, mild descriptions of injuries, unedited work.

I tripped on the last step and met a facefull of gravel. I considered myself fortunate that I did not wear glasses, but in my current situation, the fact I wasn’t knocked out cold was a blessing.

Making sure I wasn’t bleeding—a blood trail was the last thing I needed right now—I picked myself up and ran in the direction of the forest. The stables would be too obvious for someone making an escape, and the palace grounds were crawling with soldiers and guards whose loyalties I did not have the luxury of time to decipher. I prayed no one would consider the looks-like-she’s-running-for-her-life woman grounds for suspicion as I swerved off the cobblestone path onto grass that grew grungier the farther I went.

Night frost and thorns pricked my skin as I burst through a patch of gangly rose bushes into the forest, but I didn’t dare stop and catch breath. My heart pounded louder in my ears with each hulking tree, looking more monstrous and mangled than the last. I think I heard an owl hooting from above, but my gaze was preoccupied with making sure I didn’t trip on anything else. I’d read about adrenaline sharpening senses while dulling others in the moment, but this is the first time I’d ever experienced it firsthand. Even if I couldn’t rely on my ears, at least my eyes were working overtime. And I could definitely do without the pain in my no-doubt twisted ankle slowing me down.

Roots and leaves, I told myself, just avoid the roots and leaves. I jutted my head in so many directions to avoid so many crisscrossing branches I was surprised it didn’t fly off my neck. Perhaps it was because my shoulders remained immovably stiff since I hightailed it out of the castle, but frozen muscles were a natural reaction to that lot chasing after you.

That insatiable lot and their thunderstruck faces all trained on you at once. I’d sooner fall face first into a giant cauldron full of sizzling gravel than wish to encounter them again. But runaways can never count on their wishes coming true.

Perhaps it was the cacophony of crunching leaves beneath my feet. Or that incessant owl hooting overhead. Or the fact that my attention was solely focused on advancing deeper without looking back. Whatever the reason, I was spotted. And I was wholly unprepared for what followed. One moment I was pushing a bramble of spiderweb-encrusted twigs from my path, and in the next I expelled the entirety of my breath out of my lungs in one go, my back knocked hard against the base of a tree, and numbing stars and a flash of red invaded my vision.

“Give it back,” a burly voice breathed onto my face. The overwhelming odor of honey and sweat punched my nose harder than the words. It seemed as though smell was my dominant sense at this time.

I wriggled my legs in an attempt to kick him away, but Luke surprisingly maneuvered his massive body to avoid most of the blows. The ones he couldn’t avoid hit him softly in the chest, as though they were little more than the beating of a butterfly’s wings. He didn’t get any closer, though, like he was waiting for me to tire and give in to his demands. But I wasn’t going to succumb that easily. As soon as my vision fixed to focus again, I would make a run for it. But just as I could start to make out the frenzied features on his face, a new smell entered the scene: the crisp, tart aroma of freshly plucked vetiver.

I managed to roll onto my side just before Luke was shoved straight into the tree trunk. My entire body vibrated with rising dread as Chevalier grabbed a fistful of Luke’s cherry hair and pulled his body to face him. Flakes of bark chips stuck to Luke’s face as he glared back at his leader, and his angry huffing intensified with each passing second.

“I was here first,” growled Luke, wrapping his hands around Chevalier’s wrist and yanking it off. Chevalier only spared me a passing glance as Luke slowly rose to his feet and reached for his sword.

“If we are ranking validity by seniority, then I have you beat, Jumbo. I had been sitting in the office long before any of your arrivals.” Chevalier cleanly unsheathed his sword and pointed it at Luke.

“And since when did sitting on your lazy behind count as seniority?” Luke spat as the two began to circle each other. The section of forest we occupied could hardly be called a clearing, and my heart stuck in my throat at the thought of the damage they could do if they actually began to fight. I primed my knees and followed their movements, desperate to find an opening to escape before it all went down.

“That hardly constitutes a retort, coming from you,” snorted Chevalier. His eyes locked briefly with mine, a silent command of “I will deal with you later,” but I quickly turned away and focused back on the gallowing trees surrounding us. Just a second… one second is all I’ll need to slip away.

But my pleas were ignored. Luke kicked the ground and lunged at Chevalier, thrusting his sword directly toward his heart. Chevalier effortlessly sidestepped and punched Luke in the gut, sending him tumbling backward, coughing and sputtering. But Luke quickly recovered and launched again, this time aiming his swing for Chevalier’s head. With perfect timing, Chevalier ducked and jabbed the hilt of his sword again into Luke’s stomach, but instead of backing up, Luke released his own sword and wrapped his arms around Chevalier’s neck, bringing him to the ground with his superior weight as they fell.

This was my chance. I steeled my knees and grabbed the nearest trunk to me for support. Chevalier repeatedly rammed his elbow into Luke’s chest only a few paces beside me, and though it looked like Luke possessed the strength of a boa constrictor encapturing his prey, I could see his hold slipping as Chevalier persisted his attacks. I began inching away, my hand plastering to any tree I passed like a lifeline, my eyes glued to the struggle I left behind. I would only allow myself to tear away from the sight as soon as I could be sure they hadn’t noticed my departure, but just when I had passed my seventh tree trunk, a new contender entered the ring.

It was as though what I had been watching previously moved in slow motion. In an instant, something shifted in the trees behind the brawling pair, swift and nimble like an autumn gale. Branches and leaves shook in its wake, and the once hyper-focused Luke diverted his attention to the sound. Chevalier snatched the chance to give a final push and disentangle himself, knocking Luke out in the process, but as he reached to retrieve his sword, he was seized once more, this time from behind.

Nokto’s silver hair gleamed ominously in the pale moonlight as Chevalier stood, the younger prince’s arms firmly wrapped around his shoulders. Chevalier grabbed at Nokto’s hands and tried to pry them off, but Nokto only climbed higher on Chevalier’s back, using his legs to try and push Chevalier back to the ground.

Chevalier growled when Nokto jabbed a knee into the back of his thigh, but he didn’t yield. Instead, he raised himself to full height and rammed backward into the nearest tree, squishing Nokto into the trunk with all his might.

“Nokto!” I cried, but immediately regretted it. Nokto’s ruby eyes found me in the darkness and glared with the ferocity of a beast on the prowl.

“You… stay—” he wheezed, but before he could get out any more words, Chevalier silenced him with a backward headbutt into the tree. Nokto gasped and tightened his grip, but two more strikes from Chevalier slackened them entirely, and he fell limply to the ground to join the fallen Luke.

Chevalier wiped his face and stared at me, and I bolted from the scene as he reached for his sword once again.

My limbs stung as I zipped back through the bramble. Half-broken branches and fallen twigs told me this was the direction I came through previously, but I shuddered at the thought of returning to the palace after what I just witnessed. Now more than ever, I was assured that I needed protection, but could I be guaranteed to find it back at the palace? But with a bloodthirsty Chevalier only paces behind me, what choice did I have?

“I heard a fight. I’m amazed you made it out in one piece.”

I foolishly whipped my head around to the soft voice, and found myself enclosed in a sheath of purest white. My head grew numb as disorienting fragrances of lavender and soil overpowered my nostrils, but two hands firmly gripped my arms before I collapsed.

“Oopsie! My dear, you can barely stand! You look like you’ve just seen a ghost… or worse.” Clavis’s dulcet tones whispered dottily in my brain, and I fought between the urge to rip away or remain trapped in his arms. Chevalier… Chevalier was coming… Clavis could protect me.

“What has you so frightened, little bunny?” he continued, turning me to face him. His golden eyes shone like lanterns to salvation. A safe haven just within reach. “Could it be you encountered something so terrible, so savage, so brutal that you cannot bear to repeat it?” His grip slackened only slightly, like a tamer easing an animal into his care. Into his trust.

“Tell me everything, give it all to me, and I promise I will make it all go away.” His gaze was all-encompassing, and his words comforting and inviting. It was an enticing offer, how could anyone refuse in my situation? I wanted to spill out my heaving guts to him, to pass on the torch of my burden to someone else, and above all take a rest. To leave this dark and foreboding forest before someone else showed up and led me astray, before someone broke this brief respite I somehow called my own…

Wait a moment, wasn’t Clavis one of the people I had been escaping?

I broke eye contact and looked over his shoulder. Chevalier emerged from a thicket of brush, looking seconds away from breathing fire. A hobbling Luke appeared on his right and a bleary-eyed Nokto on his left, the latter’s nose red and swollen like a ripened plum.

It was as if I’d woken up from the most dangerous dream. The dread of my situation resurfaced in an instant, and horror bubbled in my chest as I felt Clavis’s hand rummaging through my pocket.

I clutched Clavis’s shoulders, stomped my heel onto his foot, and jammed my forehead into his nose. Clavis let out a piercing shriek and released me, but as I pulled away, the object he’d grabbed from my pocket slipped out from my skirt and fell to the ground. A single cookie, now broken into dozens of pieces, lay on the forest floor. All four princes stared mutinously at its crumbly remains before turning to me.

I jerked myself out of Clavis’s reach and ran back. The castle was in view now; if I could just make it past those rose bushes and call for help—

Wham!

Something pink and soft collided with me as I reached the thorny bushes and I fell on my backside. Shaking my head from the dizziness, I looked up to see Yves rubbing his forehead, a frilly basket hooked in his left arm.

“Good grief, and I thought my faction was petty over the last sweet!” he said, helping me stand. “If you’d just stayed a minute longer, I was going to tell you I had a second batch in the oven.”

“You couldn’t have said that sooner?” Nokto yelled. My cheeks burned as he and the others caught up to us, their previously angry faces melting into vexation.

“Heh, sorry. Didn’t mean to go all dramatic on you all,” I said, clenching my teeth. Yves’s mouth gaped open as he watched his brothers limp over, and he squeaked in surprise when Luke deliriously walked straight into a tree trunk. How I wished news of this evening wouldn’t reach Sariel.

“You were fortunate tonight, simpleton, but now you know not to trifle with such matters in the future,” Chevalier said, as Luke pried himself off the trunk and dove for Yves’s basket while Clavis and Nokto compared their face bruises like trophies of war.

Yeah, I thought this was really fun. Thanks for the slumber party invite, Impromptu!

Taglist:@atelieredux @queengiuliettafirstlady @violettduchess @venulus @thewitchofbooks @leonscape @rhodolitesrose @venti-tangents @dear-sciaphilia @ikesenwritings @myonlyjknight @ladyofcrowsx

If you would like to be added or removed from my tag list, please send me an ask or a message.

#ikemen series #ikemen prince #ikepri #belle/emma #ikepri belle #chevalier michel #clavis lelouch #nokto klein #luke randolph #ikepri chevalier #ikepri clavis #ikepri nokto #ikepri luke #scorchie writes #cw: fighting #cw: injuries #unedited

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enchi-elm · 10 months

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(Anyone who remembers this scene from S01E03 Of Cabbages and Kings knows he totally deserved being tied against a tree, but I still think it's hilarious. Of all the hackneyed attempts to restrain a man. And if anyone seeing this out of context is unsettled, please know that he sarcastically claps in this situation.)

Posting this just to share the link of an article that talks a bit about the real Simcoe and the impressions he left on those he interacted with in the American Revolution.

I always found his characterization funny. Samuel Roukin, the actor, is amazing and TV Simcoe is a irreplaceable character that enriches the show in rewarding ways (and drives, like, a third of the plot, at least in Season 1). But certainly the history I grew up knowing did not paint him as the cheerful sociopath that he is in the show XD

Anyway, for Villain Monday of Turn Week 2023, enjoy reading about the man behind one of the most unhinged portrayals in the show (though, of course, he is in excellent company.)

#turn week #turn week 2023 #captain john graves simcoe #cw: injuries #let me know if there's a better content warning I should use #cw: blood

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hopeamarsu · 2 years

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Congratulations on your follower milestone! You deserve every one. Can I request something with Flip getting injured, finding his way to you, and you taking care of him? Not an unhappy ending please but otherwise do with it what you like! Please and thank you

Thank you so much!

I'm sorry it's taken me a hot minute to get to it, but I hope you enjoy a little tender moment with Flip and a new acquaintance of his.

Ember of a dying flame

Flip Zimmerman x nurse!reader (gn, Flip calls them sweetness)

Rating Mature

Word count 1,3k

Warnings: Injuries, blood, dislocated finger, first meeting, it's sort of fluffy in a way

Summary: Flip is trying to find his way to Ron's new place, he's gotten injured and help is needed. Why do all these doors look the same?

Flip Zimmerman has never been so happy to round a brick building and see his partner's apartment building's front door greet him like an oasis in the middle of the desert. His legs scream in agony, but the burst of energy he gets from seeing the relief up ahead carries him over and inside.

He knows he must be leaving bloody handprints from the way he hugs the walls as he stumbles forward but at this moment, Flip doesn’t give a shit. His only priority is finding the door that belongs to Mr. and Mrs. Stallworth, so the cleanup crew can bitch and moan to him later.

There! He’s only been here once, helping Ron and Patrice move in after they didn’t feel safe in their old place anymore, but he thinks he recognizes the ornament hanging from the door. His better hand, the one not supporting his ribs, lifts weakly and he bangs on the door before slumping against the wall to support himself.

His eyes fall closed, his breathing labored as Flip waits for Ron to come to the door. It seems to take an eternity but finally, the door opens. But the person opening the door is most certainly not one Ron Stallworth.

“Oh shit! Are you okay?” The sound bounces in his skull like the loudest of rallies and Flip winces. His eyes are pinched and the headache threading the claw its way out of his eye sockets is not helped at all by the voice, beautiful as it may be.

“Stall… Stallworth?” He grits out, hoping that this is just his injuries making him hallucinate and it’s just Patrice he doesn’t recognize at the moment.

“I’m sorry, Ron and Patrice are away for the weekend. I’m their next door neighbor. What’s your name, what happened?” There is a professional tone in the voice. Flip fights back the urge to groan as it hurts his throat. Of course, he forgot Ron was taking Patrice out this weekend in style. The man had only bragged about some tickets for a concert a few cities over the entire week.

“Sorry for the dis…” he begins to apologize but the voice is suddenly closer, smoother, and kinder than before, repeating the question of what happened to him. It’s also more quiet, like the owner of the voice knows how he feels. Curious, Flip risks a peek. He is nearly thrown on his bruised ass when he gets a look at you.

While you might be dressed in scrubs, you look divine to him, the backlight from your apartment casting a glow around you that Flip has surely only heard about back when he was a young lad still attending the synagogue with his parents. You are surely a figment of his hallucinations, his brain must’ve gotten scrambled when it hit the ground.

“Please tell me your name.” You implore gently, taking stock of the numerous injuries littering the male barely standing at your front door. His blue flannel is ripped in multiple places and he holds his stomach protectively. You can already see a bruise forming on his hairline even under the black mane that falls to his shoulders. One of his fingers is twisted unnaturally and you grimace at the idea of how much it throbs. What the hell happened to this man?

“Name’s Flip and uh,” he squints a little, maybe the lighting in the hallway is too much and you twist in the doorway, a universal sign for him to enter. There is a nagging feeling deep inside you that screams of not letting strangers into the apartment but you know Ron is a detective and this guy oozes the same energy. Combined with the unique name you’ve heard in your neighbor's stories, you are quite certain this is Ron’s partner and you loathe the idea of not helping when he clearly is wounded.

“… got mugged.” He finishes lamely and even you can tell he is lying about that. But you don’t call him out, explanations can come later. When Flip still doesn’t move, you do and slip under his armpit and wrap your own arm around him. He grunts, half in surprise and half in pain, but together you make your way to your living room.

You begin rooting through your bags, explaining that you work as a registered nurse at a nearby hospital and volunteer at the homeless shelter during the weekends when he eyes your belongings suspiciously. Once you have everything you need, including a large glass of water for him, you begin cutting his shirt to pieces.

Flip tries to protest when he sees the scissors but you shoot him a stern look that wordlessly tells him to stay put unless he wants to put more strain on his ribs and surprisingly, the tall detective slumps deeper into your couch cushions and lets you cut away the flannel and the white undershirt.

You hiss, seeing the mass of black and purple already splotching his chest and ribs, and press gentle fingers around them to see if you can feel anything broken. Flip hisses a few times, a sharp intake of breath between his teeth, but otherwise, he remains seated until you straighten your body.

“Nothing appears broken. But I’d like to wrap your ribs up just in case. Are there any other injuries that require more immediate attention?”

Wordlessly, Flip holds out his hand, the one with the wonky finger. You nod, sitting on the small couch with him. “Not going to lie, detective, but this will hurt. I’ll need to set it and that means pulling it. Are you okay with me doing that?”

“Go ahead, sweetness,” the nickname slips out in his surprise at your guessing (knowing?) his profession but you don’t react to it outwardly, even if you feel the warmth spread through your stomach from his deep rumble and affectionate name.

You are not going to lie to yourself, even under all the blood and bruises and pain, the man is gorgeous to look at. His chest is wide, a small amount of hair covering his pectorals, his shoulders filling the space around him. The trail that leaves his navel and travels under his Levi’s call to you like a siren song but ogling your patient is unprofessional, even in the most unnatural of circumstances.

You grip his hand, most certainly not thinking of the way his hand completely engulfs yours, and shoot him a pointed look. “You ready, Flip?”

At this moment you wish you'd have something to place between his teeth but you don’t. But you can offer him some comfort, so you guide the not-injured hand to your waist and feel him grip it weakly. “Hold on tight,” you tell him quietly, and Flip nods, a dazed look in his eyes that has nothing to do with pain.

You count to three in your mind before pulling sharply, feeling the joint pop back into place. His hand squeezes your flesh and he groans out loud, head tipping back immediately. Had it not been for the bruised look he’s sporting, this image might’ve bordered on indecent. The way his Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows will live in your dreams for a long time.

“All better?” You murmur, your own husky tone low.

“Mhmm, yeah. Thank you sweetness,” Flip’s burnt amber eyes flip open and capture yours in a lock you hadn’t expected but one you welcome eagerly.

Like embers dancing on a dying flame, his eyes move over your face and you return the motions, committing his beauty in memory. There is a sense inside you that tells you this is only the beginning of your story with Flip, like the embers know the flame will rise again and the knowledge makes you brave. You lift his hand, pressing a soft kiss to his knuckles, feeling the heat when he repeats the action slowly.

Words are unneeded. His hand, still cradled in your hands, pulses and time slows down to a crawl when you both explore each other in the dark glow of the lamp in the corner without a hurry in the world.

(please let me know if you want to be added or removed from the list any time!)

Everything taglist @clydesducktape @miraclesabound @10blurredsmoke10 @caillea @princessxkenobi @sixshooter665 @amneris21 @greeneyedblondie44 @beecastle

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#hopeamarsu milestone celebration #flip zimmerman #flip zimmerman fanfiction #flip zimmerman imagine #flip zimmerman x reader #flip zimmerman x you #cw: injuries #cw: blood #fluff #my writing #hopeamarsu

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phoenix-flamed · 10 months

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On a much more serious note in terms of headcanons --

(Spoiler: this will contain graphic explanations of injuries relating to death by decapitation. I'll tag it as well as I can for these things, but just in case, reader discretion is advised.)

So, regarding what happened at Phoenix Gate. The tl;dr of the situation is, of course, that after Elwin was uncovered amidst the rubble, he was taken to Sanbreque, where he was then consigned to life as a Branded.

Let's go a bit more in-depth about this, starting with him being alive.

He was beheaded, straight up. That's one of those "oh shit" types of deaths where there's just no plausible way that the person can survive the wound -- not when it's complete decapitation, as was the case for Elwin. I'm of the personal opinion that his death in that moment was significant enough to the story not to tamper with it.

Fortunately, Rosaria's Eikon just so happens to be Phoenix, and I'll be damned if I'm not going to seize the opportunity this provides for me to it's-magic-I-don't-gotta-explain-shit him being resurrected.

Going to emphasize that word: resurrected.

Elwin died. He was very, very dead. So what I've always turned to for the AU verse where he "survives" is the fact that Phoenix's power is over both life and death. However, as we saw with Joshua when he was working to heal Tyler's wounds, this is not exactly a, "use magic and the wounds suddenly disappear" type of power. Not only does it take time to heal the wounds, its use does seem to impact Joshua physically, and with deeper wounds like the one Tyler suffered, it also appears to cause physical pain to the recipient as the wounds are in the process of healing. So it's less of a magic bandaid that instantly makes everything better, and more of a magical surgical procedure that mends the injury.

What this means for Elwin is that his resurrection would not, and could not, have been instantaneous. Now, obviously there would need to be an order of operations to this: Elwin's head would need to be reattached first and foremost, at least enough for the blood to be able to start flowing again. Based on what we saw with Tyler, my headcanon is that the mending begins from the inside and works its way outwards. So things like the spinal cord would come together first, followed by the veins and arteries, the muscles and tissue.

Once the neck and head are reconnected enough that bloodflow, breathing, etc. can all resume enough that life can be sustained, that is when Elwin was resurrected.

Now, remember what I mentioned up there about the healing working from the inside-out? Imagine waking up, even just barely, to the sensation of the remaining muscles and the layers of skin surrounding your neck essentially stitching themselves back together bit by bit. You have no anesthesia to numb the pain, and you have no idea what's going on; all you know is that you can feel every fiber reattaching to itself with such agonizing slowness.

That's what Elwin was enduring while the fight between Phoenix and Ifrit was going on.

I've mentioned in another headcanon post that he has a scar circling around his neck from the decapitation. Expanding more on that fact, while the scar doesn't normally hurt per se, at least not any more than any other deep scar would -- it is a psychological reminder of the pain that he felt during his resurrection process, and of everything that happened during that night, as well as everything that happened as a result of that night's events. This manifests as a psychosomatic burning sensation throughout the scar.

#Headcanons #TW: Gore #CW: Gore #TW: Decapitation #CW: Decapitation #TW: Trauma #CW: Trauma #CW: Body Horror #TW: Body Horror #TW: Injuries #CW: Injuries #TW: Injury #CW: Injury #If you need any other tags placed on this PLEASE PLEASE let me know #I don't mind placing more tags on it for people who need it asdflkjs

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