Another Good Day

Another Good Day

Augusnippets day 8: reunion | found family | friends

Word count: 500

Trigger warnings: none

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“Honey, we’re ho-ome!” Brier trills, and doesn’t dodge the cloth snapped at the back of her head.

“Who are you talking to, there’s no one inside,” Yolotli grumbles, probably rolling their eyes. They start trundling forward; Brier steps aside in a practiced motion so her toes don’t get crushed.

“Maybe I’m talking to the house, Li-li! It’s my baby, I built it with my own two hands!” Brier says, stepping in after Yolotli. Rui, Piri, and Tal trudge quietly in her wake, with Karmic bringing up the rear guard—always so protective, especially of the young lives living under their roof.

“And I designed, wired, and warded it with my own two hands,” Yolotli deadpans, reaching under their chair for the bag there and depositing it on the dinner table as they go past it. “I am this house’s genetic donor just as much as you are.”

“And I furbished and powered this house with my own two hands,” Karmic drawls, gently settling Sor into a cat hammock. “My goodness, Brier, stop hogging all the credit of this designer baby for yourself.”

“Is that how babies work?” Ruika says, apparently still with enough energy to have interest in their conversation, instead of immediately flopping into his bed. Tal, at least, is going that direction—beelining for the shower first, though; good, his body would thank him for it later.

“Nice try, firefly,” Sym says, somehow managing to talk clearly around the bag handles in her mouth. She spits them out once she’d dragged the bag next to Yolotli’s, and continues: “None of these three are going to feel comfortable explaining that to you until you’re at least thirteen, so you’re in for a wait.”

Ruika’s eyes glisten, bottom lip wobbling tragically.

Sym only snorts. “Not even if you make that face, Rui.”

Ruika’s attempt to make his face even sadder is interrupted by Karmic casually ruffling his hair as he passes by. “You can improve your ‘woe is me’ face while you’re doing cooldown stretches,” Karmic says. “Follow along with what Piri’s doing.”

Piri glances up from the pretzel-like contortion she’s pulled her body into, and grins. “It’ll be fun, Ruika!” she chirps. “I don’t bite. Well, I don’t bite friends.”

Ruika stares at her for a long moment, then slowly turns to Karmic and very seriously says, “I think I might die.”

Brier bursts into giggles at that. “You don’t have to follow her completely!” she says, taking out another stack of containers from the picnic basket and setting them in the sink. “Just go as best as you can! You already did cooldowns at the park—this is just to kill time until you get your turn in the shower.”

Ruika pulls a face, but heaves a great sigh and edges around Piri’s toothy smile at his approach, plopping down and eyeing how she’s twisted herself with some trepidation.

Brier turns away, hides her dopey expression as she starts running the water. As the house sings of warmth, she hums along.

@augusnippets Path of Hurt

Day 10: execution/fake execution/begging for mercy

CW: minor whumpee, mock execution, government corruption, abuse of power, imprisonment, framed for a crime, future captivity

Itzal (he/him)

Word count: 756 (a bit longer but I couldn't resist)

The Champion taglist: @emmettland , @ostensiblywhump , @scoundrelwithboba

They don't listen when he says he hasn't killed anyone. When they shove the gag into his mouth and secure the strap at the back of his neck, Itzal realizes they're not going to listen to anything he has to say.

He doesn't want to die.

It didn't make sense. There wasn't a trial. No evidence given that tied him to the supposed death of whatever unnamed Lapis guard they mentioned.

Only twenty-four hours between Itzal getting brought down to this prison and learning they were going to kill him.

‘ “Rebels don't get trials,” ’ they had said, sneering laughs lapping up the tiefling's terror.

He cursed them. Would've trashed and clawed up his cell had the shackles at his wrists not held him down. Would've tormented the guards with illusions had his magic not been suppressed. All he had were his words and he used them. Such fragile pride they had that they'd waste time and resources to silence a seventeen year old vandal who dared to insult them.

Itzal's anger spat until they gagged him.

He realizes now part of that anger had been fueled by denial. Armored guards clutch his bound arms as they drag him towards the courtyard, and dread clutches his gut.

He's going to die.

He tries so hard to fight. Bucks at the grasping hands until their grip is hard enough to bruise. Lashes out with his horns until one guard grabs one to force his head still. The blindfold around his head is wet with tears he failed not to shed.

He should’ve been more careful. Should've picked a safer, less public spot for his last graffiti run. Should've went home when his mother told him to and wait for a different day. 

His mother's face flashes into Itzal's mind. His father's. His little sister's. 

What's going to happen to them?

He won't even get to say goodbye. 

The screech of a metal door opening preceeds a waft of warmth as the sunlight hits his skin. The Crescentine sun is always harsh in the summer. The guards force Itzal to his knees in the dirt, latching the chains to a bolt in the ground so he couldn't stand. Couldn't flee. He balls his hands into fists to hide how much he's shaking. 

“Itzal Azarola,” a voice booms from behind. “For the crimes of treason, accomplice to murder of a government official, defacement of government property, government slander, and resisting arrest, you have been sentenced to death under orders from the Cerulean Constellate.”

Treason?

It doesn't seem real. It can't be real. This has to be a nightmare. He'll wake up home in his bed and be safe.

There's more noises. A rifle being loaded. His heart hammering in his chest. 

He will wake up soon. He doesn't want to die.

A click of the safety being released. A muffled sob escaping his lips.

He doesn't want to die.

“Fire!”

HE DOESN'T WANT TO DIE!

A trigger being pulled. 

A deafening blast sends him reeling, all other sound drowns under the piercing ring in his ears. His head throbs. His body collapses. He hopes it'll be quick. He hopes it'll be over before he feels it. He-

He's still alive.

The pain of a bullet tearing through his organs doesn't come. No smell of blood or burning flesh. The world still dark under a blindfold he can still feel on his face. Itzal is still alive.

More hands grab him. The chain is released from the ground and he is being carried away. His legs drag uselessly. His muscles feel like gelatin. His mind in a fog.

Why?

He should feel relief but instead there's a void. Nausea burning up his throat he has no choice but to force down because he's still gagged. 

What's happening?

Was there a mistake? Is he actually dead and his thoughts now are from his ghost trying to cling to life? Where are they taking him? He still can't see. No one's saying anything. What're they going to do to him now?

They drop him on hard stone. “Is this the one you wanted, Lady Matar?”

The blindfold is removed. There's a woman standing in front of Itzal. Short red hair and red eyes. Cloaked in the luxurious vestments of the Constellate. Lady Matar. High Martinet Scarlet Matar.

The master of judicial law stares down at the young tiefling, drinking in the tears on his face.

The way she smiles at him is the most terrifying thing he's ever seen.

“Yes. I will be taking him now.”

apparently people are now purchasing thick water to make slimes with because of a trend on tiktok

thick water is for disabled people who can’t swallow properly. stores usually have extremely limited supplies of it.

please don’t buy thick water for fun or to make slime with. it’s literally the only way some disabled people can drink anything. It’s not a fucking toy

words to use in whump scenes (other than agony)

Blunt force

Ache

Throb

Dull

Pulse

Clench

Gasp

Crack

Beat

Slam

Crunch

Numb

Stabbing

Slice

Burn

Fire

Tear

Twist

Pry

Rip

Recoil

Cradle

Ooze

Pour

Gush

Shudder

Shaky

Gunshot

Crack

Pulse

Burrow

Blinding

Dull

Throb

Stretch

Spread

Cramp

Coil

Numb

Ache

Whipping

Slice

Crack

Tear

Rip

White-hot

Numb

Shock

Burn

Tazing

Shock

Burn

Fire

Jolt

Cramp

Paralyze

Tremble

Gasp

Douse

Stutter

Blinding

Broken/dislocated bones

Crunch

Crack

Slide

Tense

Freeze

Numb

Shock

Pull/push

Throb

Pulse

Spike

hey

hey friend

dont kill yourself tonight ok

you have a really pretty smile and i know its not always easy to manage one but itd be a bummer if we never had the chance to see it ever again

youre really important and you matter a lot so stay safe and try and have a nice sleep