#aftermath series

[pipsqk-art]

Cassie's Christmas scrapbook page, inspired by @glitchpunkz 's fic "The Happiest Day"

you've already seen it but...

ping

@pizzaperplexed

[rainyarcades]

Every time I see the aftermath series get love, I feel so so happy. Like, yall actually like this thing I made. And it's not like art-- art, I usually end up not liking so much. I wish I was better at it every day, it takes 2-5 hours of my time a day to create, and I don't put as much love into it every time. Writing I feel more confident with, it takes far more time and care, and I put my all into it.

Not to say I don't love creating art, or that no love goes into art at all-- It's just that so much love is poured into my writing that it means a good chunk more to me than my art.

So seeing people read it and appreciate it... it's the same feeling as people appreciating my art. No biggie. But when people actively get hyped for chapters, discuss the lore and mysteries, their theories, how they think characters will feel about certain things, etc... it makes me feel more loved than before. It makes me TRULY realise that people love this. That I'm doing something good here.

And when you're living in a pretty shitty environment and you're on the cusp of getting yourself together to escape all that mess, when every day is stressful... those words I read from people who adore what I write is the best thing to happen in a day, hands down.

It's thanks to readers that Whatever Happened to Tony Becker exists. It's thanks to readers that a third and final fic, Reprise, will exist. It's thanks to you all that I keep going, that I feel good about it! And I'm so so grateful for that.

Thank you all. <3

[luxaofhesperides]

the beginning - danny

0.

The Lazarus Pit brings Danny back.

The child who went into them, however, is gone forever.

Danyal al Ghul is the soul who should reside in this body. Danyal has a life still to live and Danny died ages ago, old and surrounded by loved ones, ready to spend the rest of his forever in the Infinite Realms.

Something's gone terrible wrong, he thinks rather wryly, squinting through the cold green water that surrounds him. An ache echoes through his body and he brings a hand—small, a child's hand that shouldn't belong to him— to his stomach, where he can feel a large wound slowly pull itself together.

Did I get stabbed?

He means to continue the thought, but a sharp pain hits his head, making him curl up. He gasps and air bursts from his lungs, water rushing to fill in the empty space. Danny chokes, panicking, as memories slide into place, the lives of Danyal al Ghul and Danny Fenton fighting for dominance in his head. His lungs burn, throat working futilely to push water out, but there's nothing to be done.

Danny is a child again, and just like last time, he dies young.

1. So.

Assassins.

Danny honestly can't tell if this is a step up or a step down from mad scientist parents. On the one hand: he knows they loved him, as clumsy as it was, even though they loved their work more. On the other hand: assassin cult sounds like something out of a fairy tale, and while cool, is definitely not safe for kids.

And Danny, somehow, is a child again.

This really wasn't what he expected when he woke up on the sandy bottom of the pit. He's in ghost form, which is an unpleasant shock, but at least its familiar.

He is also, if his memory as Danyal serves him correctly, nine years old.

Kinda sucks that he died so young this time round. Didn't even make it to the double digits before he was taken out of the running.

He can't remember what it was like being so small in his last life. He can't imagine how anyone would look at a child and run them through with a sword. It's a cruel world he's woken up in. It's made worse by the fact that he's alone.

At least being down here without needing to breathe is giving him valuable time to think.

Danny has lived a full life already. He didn't really need or want another one, content to be a full ghost in the Infinite Realms. But going back isn't really an option, now that he's in a new body. The kid he could have been deserves to live fully, and the least Danny can do is live that life for them.

It'll be hard, but Danny's sure he can manage a decent life for himself.

Being presumed dead will make his escape from the assassins easier, though he'll miss getting the chance to meet his new mother; assassin as she is, Danyal knows her not by her blades but by her soft lullabies and jasmine-scented hair. The loss of her child must be hurting her deeply, but it's necessary. If Danny wants any semblance of a normal life, he has to leave her behind.

Besides, he's seen enough death. He doesn't want to ever be the cause of it.

So, he needs a plan for this new life.

Step one: get out of dodge.

The rest he'll figure out on the way.

2.

Turns out assassins weren't the most shocking thing in this new life.

No, that honor goes to superheroes.

Genuine, honest to God superheroes! With powers and everything!

To think that Danny once called himself a superhero. Ha! As if! He's nothing compared to the likes of Superman or the Flash or even Green Lantern. They're in another league. Literally. They're part of the Justice League, which has a whole slew of other heroes, and Danny is possibly their biggest fan.

Not like that's weird; most people in this world are huge fans of superheroes. Makes sense, since they're the ones who rely on their protection the most.

It does suck to know that his background belongs to that of a villain. Assassins aren't known for saving people, after all.

Part of him contemplates becoming a hero again, taking up the role of Phantom and joining the ranks of Superman. But he's had many years to come to terms with the loss of his teenage years and the bitterness that came with it. That experience, that life once lived, helps him decide each time that being a civilian is the gift this life owes him.

At thirteen, Danny lives in a foster home with six other kids. He's the oldest and has his hands full taking care of everyone else while their foster parents work three jobs between them to keep them all afloat.

When his younger siblings play superheroes, he gladly takes the role of the villain, swooping in with a blanket to kidnap away an innocent bystander that has to be rescued. He falls over dramatically at the end of each fight and praises his siblings' strength and teamwork, making them puff up with pride.

It's all fun and games so long as it only stays fun and games.

Superpowers are cool and all, but his came at the cost of his life, his health, his future. He knows, better than anyone, the price of being a hero. He knows that even Superman carries heavy losses on his shoulders, struggles under burdens no one can see.

He's lucky that the small town he ended up in—Luray, Virginia—has no heroes or villains. Too small a place to be on anyone's radar, apparently.

His classmates often complain about how they wish they could live in a big city where there's more to do, more to see, superheroes flying through the streets to protect them.

Danny is happy where he is. It's quiet, and small, and nothing like what he's used to, but it's safe.

That's all he really wants.

3.

Here's something that stays the same no matter what world he's in: Danny is a magnet for trouble.

If the trouble stopped at bullies, everything would have been fine. Danny could handle Dash, and he could handle Justin just as easily.

But the universe loves to escalate with Danny, specifically, which is why Danny had to reveal his powers when some villain-wannabe school shooter attacked his high school.

And to think he felt bad for Jackson when he didn't make it onto the track team.

Luray does not have a meta population. They're too small to have much of a population at all, and much of it is white which made him, half-Iranian, stand out even before he threw out a barrier of ice to protect his classmates a second before the gunfire began.

"Danny?!" his seatmate, Clarrissa, cries out in alarm.

"Everyone get out the window and run for it!" he orders, "I hold him back as much as I can!"

"You can't stay here!"

"Don't worry," Danny says, offering her a tight smile. "He couldn't kill me even if he tried. Now go!"

His classmates hadn't wasted any more time, sending him shocked looks as they escaped the classroom. A glimpse of his reflection in the window revealed glowing green eyes and blue mist wafting out of his mouth.

Looks like his time in Luray is up. He hopes his foster siblings won't be too mad at him for running away.

The gunfire stops, and Danny takes his chance to leap through his ice, intangible, and tackle Jackson, easily knocking the gun away from him.

"Monster!" Jackson spits at him, and Danny laughs.

"Bold of you to say that. I'm not to one trying to kill people."

He doesn't want to hear anything else that comes out of Jackson's mouth, so he knocks the guy out with a solid hit to a pressure point on his neck. Hopefully that'll keep him down long enough for the cops to get him.

Danny stands and means to leave, but something hits the back of his head hard and he's out before he realizes what's happened.

When he wakes up, he's strapped down to a table in what is undeniably a lab, and sighs.

At least he made it to sixteen before he went into another lab. Maybe in his next life he might even get all the way up to twenty before he's pulled back down here.

4. Though he has all his powers and a ghost form, that doesn't mean he is a ghost in this life.

No, he's fully a meta, which means meta-suppressing cuffs work on him.

It's not exactly a discovery he was hoping to have while locked up in a lab, but it's what he's got, so he has to roll with it. The cuffs are heavy on his wrists and around his throat, keeping him from escaping as a group of people in masks and lab coats bustle around, ignoring him.

His head is still foggy, though likely more from the drugs than the hit he took to his head.

He doesn't bothering talking to any of them; they don't see him as human, and Danny's dealt with enough of that in his past life.

Mad scientists love to talk though, so he still hears the gist of their plans: recreating the meta gene for normal people, making a profit from selling powers, getting rich and famous from their accomplishments. They had been using Jackson to get corpses for human testing, but they got Danny instead — someone they can harvest bio material for, a much better find than a couple dead kids.

If he had the energy to rage, Danny would have killed everyone in the room already. They planned to kill his classmates just for test subjects.

He doesn't want to be an assassin, but he'd gladly lean into those old lessons to make sure they never hurt anyone again.

But the cuffs and drugs do a good job of keeping him docile, barely able to think, as they transport him around to different locations and cut him open.

He's not sure how long it's been when they ease up on the drugs a bit. It still takes time for his body to work through everything, and he comes too with a throat that's dry and a stomach that hasn't had anything in it for quite some time.

The first thing Danny does when they start asking him questions is throw up on them.

If they wanted cooperation, they should have treated him better. This is fully on them.

It makes for a convincing argument for food and water and a bathroom break, at least, so he gets what he demands and takes care of his human body under the cold gazes of three scientists.

"You guys suck," he says conversationally. "Keeping test subjects alive is like basic knowledge. No wonder y'all suck at your jobs."

"Your comments aren't needed," one of the scientists says primly. "Get up. We need to study how using your powers affects your body."

They hook a bunch of different things onto him, then lock him in a glass cage and use the cuff around his throat to send jolts of electricity through him when he doesn't do anything. He throws a chunk of ice at them, watching as it breaks apart into small pieces when it hits the glass. The scientists scribble in their notepads, and when they look at him again, he flips them off.

He gets shocked again, but it's worth it.

The process repeats for another few hours, then he's pulled out of the cage, gets an IV stuck in his arm, and drops off into drugged oblivion before he has time to start throwing hands.

5.

It must have been months. Danny's not sure; it's hard to keep track of time when locked in isolation.

He knows he's fed at least once a day. He's been getting a tray of bland food at random times, but he's counted over 50 trays sliding through the little slot on the bottom of his cell door.

Turns out insulting scientists and their procedures is a bad idea, especially when he has the language to really bruise their egos.

So.

Isolation sucks.

But at least they don't drug him anymore!

The cuffs do their job of keeping him in place, and if he didn't have memories of another life to keep him company, he definitely would have lost his mind long ago.

There's other people in here, other metas. He's heard them screaming and begging for mercy. He's heard them go chillingly quiet. He wonders why there are so many superheroes in this world when not a single one has come to save them.

Surely at least one would notice metas disappearing and would investigate?

But no.

No one ever comes to save them.

So Danny needs to figure out a way past the cuffs, and then he can be Phantom again long enough to free the other metas and make every scientist involve pay for their crimes.

He just needs to wait.

He just needs—

6.

When Danny wakes up, the alarms are ringing. It makes his head pound, throbbing with each piercing sound.

He stumbles up, using the wall to keep his balance, and freezes when he sees that the door to his cell is open.

…Huh.

The hallway is bathed in red light when he steps out. No one's around. He wanders around the facility, searching for answers and only finds more questions.

There are other cells, also empty. Certain rooms have blood splattered across the walls and the floor, but no bodies. Labs are destroyed, broken glass on the floor. But every room is empty.

He wanders until he finds what must be a security room. There's a strange device dangling off a keychain on a rack, and Danny eyes it curiously. He runs his fingers around the cuff on his throat, feels the little depression where the collar comes together, and takes the rounded device. If it doesn't work, then it doesn't work.

But if it does work…

The cuff pops open easily, as if it hasn't been his greatest foe these past few months.

All at once, his strength returns to him. He has forgotten what it was like to breathe easily, to feel his powers come to his call so easily, to be reassured that he can take care of himself.

It's almost like coming back to life.

He transforms, settling back into his ghost form with relief, and flies through the facility in search of any other metas that may need help. He finds no one, but he does catch a glimpse of the outside.

The sky is so blue it almost hurts to look at. Part of the facility has been blown apart; rubble surrounds the place and the surrounding forest has been flattened. It looks as though a fight has moved through the area.

Maybe a superhero did come to save them? Rude of them to leave only Danny, though.

He continues his search, poking his head into different rooms and hallways. He finds a staircase going down and follows it into the basement. More labs greet him, and the glow of computers and strange vials of liquid leave him unsettled.

There's a green glow coming around the corner than reminds him of the Lazarus Pit he flew out of, once upon a time many years ago, and that's what draws him forward.

Tucked away in that familiar glow is a small body, floating in a tube of liquid. There's an oxygen mask attached to her face, but that doesn't stop Danny from recognizing her.

"Ellie?"

7.

Just like in one life, Danny is cloned. The difference is that this time, there's no reason for it, no insane godfather trying to recreate a version of him that will choose him.

No, this time it's from a group of scientists who should have known better, who decided to mess around with his genes, and brought his once little sister now daughter into such a cruel, dangerous world.

Danny barely remembers breaking the glass to get her out of there. He doesn't know where he found the coat to bundle her up in, flying out of the facility as fast as he could. He feels sick, knowing it's his fault that she's here now, forced into a painful, terrifying existence because he wasn't strong enough to save himself.

He's a runaway meta victim of mad science. He can't take care of her.

"I'm sorry, Ellie," he whispers to her, pressing a kiss against her head. "I'm so sorry."

She small in his arms. She barely weighs anything.

Danny blinks back tears and tries to find some place he can stop and rest, somewhere safe he can gather his thoughts and figure out his next steps.

This isn't like when he first woke up in this world, with both sets of memories.

This is Ellie.

She deserves more than just a wish and a half-baked plan for a better life.

She deserves a family that wants her, that can care for her, that can protect her. She deserves to grow up normally and not worry about destabalizing or being a replacement for him or being hunted down.

She deserves one life to be a kid and grow up safe and be whoever she wants to be.

Danny will never be able to give her that.

But maybe he can give her to someone who can.

8.

Danyal grew up with an assassin mother and a cruel grandfather who expected far too much from a child. He was taught to kill and be more weapon than child. He was taught the world was something for him to take, to protect, to water with blood.

Danyal was meant to be the next Demon Head, and the next Bat.

Danny knows he can't go to his mother. If they're both lucky, he will never have to see her again. Knowing his luck, he's already planning explanations for why he never went back to her.

Danny's father, on the other hand…

It didn't take much to put the pieces together. The notorious Bat is Batman, Gotham's vigilante and one of the founders of the Justice League. While a child would have been left confused by the many comments his mother made about his father, it was simple enough for Danny to line them up with what he learned about the heroes of this world and realize, oh, that's my dad.

It takes a few weeks of research, using public libraries with Ellie tucked securely in a wrap to his chest, but he's able to learn more about Batman.

The most important thing being that he has kids.

Of course, none of this is officially acknowledged, but everyone knows that the Robins are his kids. Current Robin, especially, likes to remind people that he's 'the son of Batman'.

Okay. Cool.

Danny has siblings.

Awesome.

He's… not looking forward to those conversations.

At least it means more people to look after Ellie. Assuming they take her in, which Danny's really hoping for.

But it's the best he can do, so Danny sets course for Gotham and hopes that just this once, everything will work out.

9.

Meeting the Bats of Gotham is a lot harder than he expected.

A week in the city and he's barely caught more than a glimpse of them. He can't dedicate a lot of time to tracking them down either, needing to break into grocery stores to get food for him and Ellie.

She's so quiet as a baby, and it terrifies him. She's only cried twice the entire time he's had her, and Danny spends every day begging her to hold on.

Time during the day is spent catching naps and researching common vigilante spotting areas in Gotham. He's got a map of Gotham taken from a library and has been steadily marking it up, putting stars in the best places to find a Bat. There are places all over the city, and Danny has no idea how to know which ones are the best.

The only thing he can do is wait at a different rooftop each night, clinging to Ellie, wondering if this is the last night he has with her.

On the ninth night, someone finally arrives.

"Step away from the edge," a voice demands.

Danny turns to see Robin approaching, hands held out as if to catch him. He's bigger than Danny was expecting. Which makes sense; most of the stories Danny got online are from when Robin was a kid, and it's been a few years since then. He must be a teenager now. Older, but still young.

"Robin," he manages to say, his throat tightening. It feels almost like there's a noose around it. It feels like that meta-suppressing cuff has clicked back into place, leaving him helpless.

"Step away from the edge," Robin repeats. "There is no need for this to be your last resort."

"But it is," Danny whispers.

Robin darts forward and wraps a hand around Danny's wrist, yanking him towards the center of the roof. "Why on Earth would you come up here? Surely you must have known that someone would stop you."

"Batman," he gets out. "I need to speak to Batman."

"What for?"

"I'm… I was told, once, that I'm his son."

10. Robin stares at him for a long moment.

Then he takes off his mask.

Danny knows those eyes: he sees them every time he looks in a mirror.

"Danyal," Robin breathes. "You died before I was born."

"I did. Are you…?"

"Mother told me about you."

So he has a little brother. If only he hadn't left first chance he got, he could have known his little brother, gotten away from that place before it hurt him too. Danny has made many mistakes since he arrived in this world. Missing a little brother is perhaps the worst of them.

"Mother…" Danny repeats. "She put me in the Lazarus Pit. I remember that. She didn't want me to die."

"I was born to replace you."

Just like Ellie.

So many mistakes repeating. He's never felt like more of a failure.

"Batman. Our father. He treats you well? You are safe with him?"

Robins brows furrow, but he nods, which is enough for Danny. "Yes. Of course. Isn't that why you're here now?"

"I'm not asking for me." Danny carefully, gently, unwraps Ellie. "I'm asking for her. Please, take care of her. She deserves more than I can give her. Ellie… she'd be your niece."

Robin's eyes are wide. He's frozen until Danny pushes Ellie against his chest, forcing him to lift his arms to hold her.

"Wait, what about—?"

When Robin looks up, Danny's already gone.

It's for the best.

(masterpost for all parts)

[wotchernewt]

seriously though nothing can stop me from interpreting Real Life as canon just for how it progresses the canary curse situation. i'm obsessed with it. the curse gets broken in secret life and then in the very next "series", as much of a joke as it is, you get a situation like THAT. jimmy enters a mineshaft and everyone but him dies. not just his team, though obviously it's more significant because they were all red, but ren/martyn/skizz all get a mineshaft-death apiece. that canary's not doing his job anymore. he escaped his cage and made a break for the surface and everyone else is paying the price for it, and i for one could not be more proud of that little bird.

[thesummerstorms]

Okay, but I've been thinking about the parallels between The Last Olympian and The House of Hades.

Annabeth was the one who convinced Luke to kill himself. Obviously, it's a lot more complicated than that and ahe'd given him opportunities to change before. But in the end, it was only because of her and their promise that Luke was able to throw off Kronos's control during the battle in the throne room.

She's the one who convinced Percy to give Luke the knife. Luke killed himself with her blade and saved the world.

Then we get to House of Hades and Tartarus. And at the doors of death, Damasen tells Annabeth that she was the one who changed his mind and convinced him to fight his father. She's the one who tells Percy that they have to leave Bob and Damasen, even knowing they'll die. She cries and sobs and hugs Bob, but she makes the choice.

I'm just saying, after talking someone into to their heroic death twice, even though she had to do it, even though she mourns, even though she's not her fault-

She deserves to be a little fucked up by that.

[spicyvampire]

Great's Dying Brain vs Reality: Part of the undressing for Great & Tyme's first time

4MINUTES (2024) EP. 4 // EP. 6

[veveisveryuncool]

was it worth it was it worth it was it worth it...?

kirbtober day 02: revenge (late!!!)

[realbeefman]

house md episodes will have the characters casually mention some deeply devastating and traumatic event in their past that would’ve fundamentally altered them as a person and then it will never be mentioned again for the rest of the series

[wishchip106]

thinking about how when i first watched multiverse of madness and i saw Charles i went

“oh hey its that bald guy from xmen huh, was it professor x? no clue”

and then after becoming obsessed with xmen and i watched it again i went (when he was revealed)

“OMG ITS BABYGIRL HIIIIII 😻😻😻”

my priorities changed for sure

thinking about Erik in that world finding out his daughter (from another universe) killed his husband

damn 😔

we got live action banana chair

honestly, burn it

[immediatebreakfast]

I have noticed something when it comes to vampires bites in this book, or the concept of watching the vampire feeding itself. The book has said how the vampires feed, how the Weird Sisters feed, and how Dracula hunts his prey; however, so far, the actual act of biting and feeding is never described nor shown.

Jonathan sees the Count give the Weird Sisters a child, he hears it cry again and again, then everything goes silent as the horrifying implications hang over his head. Yet, there are no words for teeth sinking into flesh, of blood bubbling as it escapes the arteries, or pained expressions, the act that is so characteristic of vampires is... not seen in what is considered the Vampire Novel.

However, it fits, it fits a lot with how the gothic is constructed. We don't need to read how the Weird Sisters kill a baby in front of Jonathan's eyes, it doesn't need to be described because the implication, and the poiting towards what is happening away is far more terrifying. It creates a sense of helplessness that permeates everything around the biting. You can't save those children, they are already "dead" the second the Count grabbed them.

Weirdly enough, I thought that since Jonathan isn't being actively bitten in front of our eyes, then It could mean that the Count is not biting him to bide time with his new favorite "lady" before consuming him, but no.

He was either dead or asleep, I could not say which—for the eyes were open and stony, but without the glassiness of death—and the cheeks had the warmth of life through all their pallor; the lips were as red as ever.

The lapses of memory, the tiredness, the blurriness between what is real and what is not, Jonathan is suffering from these while he is slowly drained in moments that we don't even know about, but it happens. Dracula now has the warmth of life coursing through his body as Jonathan becomes weaker, his lips are red while Jonathan is more ghastly as the days go by.

I thought he might have the keys on him, but when I went to search I saw the dead eyes, and in them, dead though they were, such a look of hate, though unconscious of me or my presence, that I fled from the place, and leaving the Count's room by the window, crawled again up the castle wall.

The rage of the Count to see Jonathan try to escape once again despite the pure torture he has been subjected. How dare he keep fighting when his body gets weaker every day?

We may not see the bites happen since the aftermath of those bites is what is important. What the victim feels both physically, and mentally is the focus in the story; just because the bite is finished doesn't mean that the horror stops.

[kyeomssant]

aftermath ○ lee dokyeom

Being announced as a driver for Red Bull Racing was a dream come true and to do so alongside The Dokyeom━ she still thinks, to this very moment that this is a figment of her imagination and that any moment now, she’ll wake up, finding herself back in her driver’s room, getting ready to race for Prema and not Red Bull.

Everything she has worked for led up to this very moment, every hour she has spent practising, spending time on improving herself, burning bridges and losing people she once held close to her, all of the things she’s sacrificed to get into Formula One━ except, meeting Dokyeom ‘He goes by Seokmin off track’ Lee, was nothing like one would expect.

Seokmin Lee was not the sunshine she saw on the television, no big grin in sight, no kind eyes and warm words in vicinity as he stared at her, lips pulled into a thin line and eyes hard.

She should’ve known, after all, they do say, never meet your heroes

series masterlist

chapters:

i. welcome to the show ii. already over iii. first time iv. fare well v. who we are vii. anything but viii. fast times viii. read your mind ix. vicious x. lonesome xi. catharsis xii. there it goes xiii. into you xiv. sweetner xv. bad idea xvi. imperfect love

taglist.

@piastrylvr @hyperdramas

let me know if you want a tag

[how-much-for-a-whump]

Ateş Kuşları 37. Bölüm

Prompt: "Coma Aftermath"

Previous part here

source

[whumpypepsigal]

Whumptober 2023 | No. 19

Alternative prompt: Aftermath of Failure

1923 s01e02: “If I'd known I would have never split us up. I would have kept us together.”

@whumptober @whumptober-archive

[forwhump]

a/n; sorry !!!!!!!!!!!!! (either for the delay or the fact that I’m posting again depending on how you feel about me)(I’m from mountains, canada and I drove to prairies, canada & at one point completely out of nowhere my friend was like “you could hide a military base out here so easy” I was like 👀)(silas could literally be in flatlands, manitoba we don’t even know)

anyway LOL this is for the anon that asked for more outside pov !! I was actually looking for smth hal ‘cause I have a lot more lighthearted stuff & sort of caretaking healing things from hal’s pov BUT !!! I felt partway through june needed more screen time & I went back and wrote a lot of early stuff from her pov & this is some of that & it is TOO GOOD not to post !! more wren backstory 😏 but nothing good has happened to wren in his life so y’know

tw/cw: sexual violence, rape, noncon, transphobia, misgendering, graphic depictions of violence, serious bodily harm, forced imprisonment, captivity, mentions of kidnapping, sexual slavery, medical torture

outside pov, military whump, mentions of super soldiers

June has been in the unit for about two years — she thinks — when Point comes to escort her from the common room, and it isn’t unusual. Not at first.

She safely assumes it’s for combat or field training, which are two of the only three things she ever gets escorted from the unit for. The third is medical. She’s never seen anything else, she’s never been taken to any other part of the district, and the hair on the back of her neck starts to rise as Point leads her deeper and deeper into the labyrinth, farther and farther from familiarity.

“Sir?” She tries, and he doesn’t even look at her.

He leads her to a door at the end of a long, empty hallway. He stands with his back to it, finally looking at June. Something in his jaw twitches. “Against my better judgment,” he says, and has to stop, to calm himself, closing his eyes, breathing in slowly through his nose. When he opens his eyes again, he looks at her and says, “if I had another choice, you would not be here. You are about to become privy to information only my most trusted men have been entitled to. It is contraband. If, for any reason, my superiors find out, and she is taken from me, I will not be happy. And if I’m not happy, your employment with me will be terminated by means of your life. Do I make myself clear?”

June had never seen any farther into the district than the arenas, even further underground. This is a single, armoured door, at the end of a long, empty hallway, at the junction of more long, empty hallways. “She?” June asks.

“Do I make myself clear?” Point repeats, and June’s body nods with no help from her brain.

“Sir,” she says.

Point clicks his tongue, irritated, before he unlocks and unarms the door.

It opens to the worst thing June has ever seen in her life.

“Fuck!” She says, and she doesn’t mean to, taking a quick step back. She can see Point watching her, blank, from the corner of her eye, but she can’t look at him. She doesn’t want to look anymore but she can’t pull her eyes off the body laid flat on its back on the concrete.

The costume dress is ripped and stained, tulle and gingham soaked through with blood. The body is so emaciated that June can clearly make out every bone in its leg beneath its waxy, bruised skin.

She fixates on the long, white hair. Robin has the same hair.

“Oh my fucking god,” she says.

Robin speaks of him, still, but he hasn’t been the same since this place got to him. None of them are. He isn’t frantic in the same way, but he still talks about him. When Robin talks, it’s most of what he talks about.

When he’d been taken, escorted here, his brother had been with him. The artist. They’d taken him, too. The soldiers all staunchly denied him ever even having a brother with him, so June had always assumed he’d been killed at the scene. Robin had insisted as long as he’d been there — they’d taken his brother, too. He was here somewhere.

He was right.

June feels cold all over.

“I think her pelvis is broken,” Point explains, and she has never experienced the rush of emotion she feels now, wet and hot, like a tide that breaks in her chest.

“You think her —“ she starts, and it almost makes her gag. She has to take a long breath in through her nose. She still can’t look away. “You think his pelvis is broken?”

“No,” Point admits. “Her pelvis is definitely broken.”

“Oh my fucking god,” June says again, and her voice sounds really far away. Robin’s brother has been real this whole time and Point’s been keeping him as a pet. “Oh my fucking god. You raped him to death.”

“She’s still alive,” Point says, and he says it like she’s dumb. He steps closer to nudge him in the side with the toe of his boot and Robin’s brother makes a quiet, wet sound June has only ever heard from dying men.

She reacts without thinking, shoving Point away from him. He moves, but he sneers as he looks down at her. “Stand down, January.”

“Get the fuck away from him!”

One of his eyebrows lifts, menacing. She doesn’t like Point, and she’s never liked Point, but one of the things she’s growing to loathe is his almost cartoonish villany. His mood swings are goofy and violent and it sets her teeth on edge. “I own her,” he says, low and dangerous. He leans in close. June is a big girl — Point is a massive fucking man. She doesn’t want to be intimidated by him but he speaks like a threat and his breath is hot against her face. “I can do whatever I want to her. That’s not why I brought you here.”

June would be shivering if she let herself, which is interesting because she’s actually as hot as if she’s running a fever. The sweat is cold as it trickles down her spine. “Why did you bring me here?”

Point looks down at the blood dried on the concrete, at Robin’s bleeding, broken brother, and says, “I don’t know what to do.” He looks at June slowly and his face is completely void of any emotion that June knows or recognizes.

“What?” She says.

He looks down again, back up, and she still can’t read his face at all. “I don’t want her to die,” he finally admits.

“Oh my fucking god,” June says, and she doesn’t mean to. She doesn’t know what else to say. She knew Point was a mean bastard but she never would’ve thought he would’ve been capable of this. “You should’ve thought about that before you raped him to death.”

“She doesn’t have to die,” he says.

“What do you want me to do?” June cries.

He looks at her like she’s a little stupid, which is just mind blowing, and motions to Robin’s brother with one arm. The other is held at his back, at ease.

Wren.

The name comes to her out of nowhere.

Robin’s brother is Wren.

“You’re also female,” Point explains, and kind of tilts his head, “I think.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” June says. “So?”

He motions at Wren again.

June looks at him, too, and it’s so much more horrible now that he has a name. He’d had family before, loved ones, somebody who was worried about him, and that was bad enough, but now this small, bleeding thing, broken down the middle, has a name.

Wren.

What was their last name? Some other kind of bird, wasn’t it? Was it Heron?

“I don’t know why you think I can help him,” June says.

Point’s eyebrows lift. “I figured you would’ve dealt with your share of female hysteria.”

“Female hysteria?” June repeats. “He was raped to death!”

“She isn’t fuckin’ dead!” Point snaps.

“He’s dying right now!” June cries. “You know that or you wouldn’t have come for help. What the fuck do you expect me to do? Really?”

Rage simmers in Point’s face for only a second. It’s gone just as quickly, replaced by something shier, almost more bashful. “Word is,” he says tightly, “you were a big…female advocate during your time. I thought you might’ve —“ and he cuts himself, exhaling sharply. “I thought you might’ve known somebody who’d been…hurt like her before. I thought you might know what to do.”

“They died,” June says.

“No,” Point says.

“Yes,” June corrects. “I worked around a lot of men like you. They were always civilians, always young, and they always died. Always.”

“You just let them die?” Point says, like he’s horrified by that.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” June says. “He needs a doctor. Have Medic —“

“No.” When he’s not speaking with too much emotion, Point doesn’t speak with a lot. Still, this is the flattest June’s ever heard his voice.

“Oh my god,” she says. “I know what to do and that’s what I know. If those girls in the field had been allowed access to a doctor they might not have died. They would’ve had a fucking chance, at least. What do you think is —“

“No,” he says.

“You’re really just gonna let him die here?” She protests.

“She’s contraband,” Point says, flat. “I thought I made myself clear.”

“So?”

Point looks her up and down once, lip curling disdainfully. “On paper,” he says, “she was terminated on site.”

Something shivers in June’s chest and makes her breath rattle. “Oh my god.”

“She is an unsanctioned pet,” Point says, “and —“

“Oh my fucking god,” she says. She takes a step away from him and she isn’t sure when she had gotten so deep into this room. She doesn’t like it, but she’s standing between Point and Wren and she can’t bring herself to stand anywhere else.

He kind of rolls his eyes at her. “And —“

“So he was always going to die here!” June cries, and the spike of hysteria in her voice surprises even her but this is fucking unbelievable. This is unreal. This place was a hellscape when these men were just working guard detail at a fucked up mad science program making super soldiers.

She should’ve known better. She was in the military, and she knew what those men were like. Point was right, kind of; she didn’t really work as an advocate, she just got a nickname. She used to fight, physically fight stationed doctors to try and get them to help the girls the soldiers always left behind. But they were always locals, civilians; the military’s doctors weren’t authorized to help them.

She should’ve known they’d never just be working guard detail.

She just never would’ve thought they’d be keeping a fucking sex slave in the basement.

What the fuck?

“What the fuck!”

Point exhales through his nose. “Yes,” he agrees.

June puts a hand to her chest and her heartbeat is like gunfire. Robin had been so hysterical about his brother when he’d gotten here, but he’d been going through withdrawals. June had never doubted that he was real, like Hal had, but she really thought they’d killed him, and that Robin had probably just blocked it out. That he’d completely forgotten it after the lobotomy, or whatever the hell they did to him.

He’d been real this whole time and Point had been keeping him as a pet.

“Oh my fucking god.”

“I don’t want her to die,” Point admits again, and June can feel it under her hand, the way that makes her chest constrict.

“At this point it’s probably the least you can do,” she spits, and her head is spinning.

“No,” Point says, and she hates that she agrees with him, but he’s right.

She can’t let him die down here. Not like this. “He needs a doctor,” she says.

“No.”

“That’s all you can do!” she protests. “There’s no other way to help him! You broke his fucking pelvis. He probably needed a doctor six months ago but if he doesn’t get one now he’s going to die. If you don’t want him to, tell Medic.”

“They’ll take her from me,” Point says.

June throws her arms up. “Then he’ll just be dead!”

Point looks down at her for a long time and she looks right back. She thinks he’s probably trying to intimidate some hidden medical prowess out of her, but she’s serious, and at some point he sees it in her face. His lip curls back from his teeth and he leaves. Without a word, he leaves, and he locks the armoured door behind him.

“Fuck,” June says out loud, and she doesn’t mean to. Her voice breaks.

But they’re alone. At least they’re alone.

Slowly, she turns to Wren, and slowly, she sits beside him. “Hi, Wren,” she whispers. He doesn’t respond and she doesn’t really expect him to. Slowly, she reaches out to him, brushing bits of crusted hair out of his face. He looks like he’s probably really beautiful, and he looks young. He looks so young that it makes June nauseous and she has to do everything in her power to keep her voice soft and calm and sweet. She wants to scream for him. She wants to cry.

She starts to push his hair out of his face and his eyes don’t open but he flinches with his whole body. “It’s okay,” June whispers. “It’s okay. I’m not gonna hurt you. My name’s June. I’m a friend of your brother.”

It stirs something in him. His head turns slowly against the concrete and his hair is so white the parts dried with blood look like they’re rusting. Blinking open his eyes, he looks up at her, and he has eyes so much darker than June was expecting. He has really, really dark, really wide eyes, bloodshot and bruised underneath, and he looks up at June from beneath wet eyelashes and it makes him look even younger and she cries with him, then. She can’t help herself.

“Robin?” He asks, but just barely. His voice is really small, but when June strains to hear it, she can hear Robin’s accent, softer and sweeter. “He’s alive?”

“Yeah,” June agrees, smiling wetly, “and he’s clean. He’s all big now, looks like a real cowboy. They fixed his teeth, too. He’s got a great smile.”

He chokes out a wet sound that June only realizes is a sob when a tear clears a track in the grime on his face.

“I know,” she agrees softly. “Really seems like you got the shitty end of the deal here.”

He makes another choked sound and June likes to imagine that in another life, he got to laugh towards the end. “I’m gonna die,” he says, and June can hear it in how thin, how wet his voice is, that yeah, he probably is, “aren’t I?”

“I think so,” June whispers. “I hope not.”

He chokes out another sound, another sob. “I think I want to,” he whispers, and his brittle voice breaks. “I don’t wanna do this anymore.”

“I know,” she agrees. “I think I would, too.” He moves his head, tips his face up towards the ceiling, and strips of flesh have been peeled from the side of his throat. She takes his hand so carefully, and she doesn’t look at the bruising around his wrist or every one of his broken fingernails. “I don’t think I’d want to be alone,” she explains.

He makes a choked sort of sound. “I’m never alone.”

“I’m sorry,” she says softly. “Do you want to be alone now?” His fingers tighten around June’s, almost frantic, and she says, “it’s okay. I’m not going anywhere.” She squeezes his fingers as much as she’s comfortable, which is just barely. “Couldn’t get very far if I wanted to.”

She’s crying, but that feels rude. What does she have to cry about? She tries to wipe her eyes with the back of her other hand and says, “I’m really sorry this happened to you.”

He doesn’t say anything but his fingers are still shaking so June knows he’s still alive. He’s so cold she thinks it would be hard to tell, otherwise. She doesn’t think she’d let go of his hand either way.

They sit there for such a long time that June thinks that Point’s left them both to die. She holds Wren’s hand and cries for him when he isn’t conscious to hear it. When the door is finally opened again, she jumps so hard it feels like it throws something out in her back.

Jumping to her feet, she keeps Wren safely behind her as Point filters back in, face blank. Close at his back is Medic and June sobs out loud.

She would go as far as to say she likes Medic. A trauma surgeon, Medic is a good doctor and he’s kind to them. He’s a prisoner, too. He doesn’t want to be there, either. Him and the entire rest of his team are fitted with collars, flickering at all times with dangerous red light. Insubordination will lead to electrocution which will lead to death.

Medic is a prisoner and he’s one of if not the only person down here with any sort of humanity left. He reacts to Wren like any normal person would — with horror.

He recoils so hard it makes him take a step back, and he bumps into June. Neither of them acknowledge it. “What the fuck?”

Point opens his arms, dismissive. “Fix her.”

“Who is this?”

“Who cares?” Point says. “Can you fix her?”

“What the fuck?” Medic repeats, ragged. “What did you do to her? Who is this?”

“Robin’s brother,” June says, and Medic looks at her with eyes blown wide with horror.

They blow even wider with realization. He looks at Point slowly. “What the fuck?”

“You’re wasting time,” Point says. “She’s dying.”

“His pelvis is broken,” June tells him quietly, and Medic sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth.

“Fuck me,” he says. He rubs his face slowly, but if there’s one thing June likes best about Medic, it’s that she respects him. When he lowers his hands, he looks at Point. He says, “get the fuck out. Take June back to the unit, and stay the fuck away. If you try to see him at any point while he’s in my care, I will fucking kill you. You understand?”

Point’s lip curls back from his teeth. “You’re in no position to tell me what to do, doc.”

“Then maybe we’ll have Weaver come down here and take a look at him instead,” Medic says.

Point snarls, actually snarls, like some kind of fucked up beast, and the way the sound reverberates through the room is deeply unsettling. But he takes June by the arm, and he turns.

June turns to look over her shoulder, but Medic closes the door between them. As she turns back around, she sees it’s because Point tried to look back, too.

She doesn’t say anything to Robin. Maybe that’s the wrong choice, she isn’t sure. What would the right choice be? Would she wanna know, if it was her? What if she’d been lobotomized?

She doesn’t say anything and she doesn’t see Medic for months. When she does she’s sitting in a bed in the medical bay, trying to peer around for any sign of him. The medical bay, unfortunately, was designed for privacy; the size of a large airplane hanger, there are enough beds for a small army but spaced out far enough that June can’t peer end to end.

When the door is pushed open and Medic lifts the corner of his mouth at her, she has a bullet in her arm but she forgets that it hurts and blurts, “is he okay?”

Medic smiles a little more properly and the relief that crests in June’s chest almost makes her start crying out of nowhere. “No,” he says, “but he’s getting there. He’s alive.”

“Oh my fucking god,” she says, and he laughs. “Can I see him?”

“Let’s get this bullet out of you,” he says, “and we’ll see.”

A few months after that, somebody new is introduced to their unit. Like every other time, they don’t know until the guards show up with them. The new guy, this time, has long white hair, the same colour as Robin’s.

June cries pretty uncontrollably.

Robin doesn’t cry — can’t, maybe? — but June cries enough for him, too.

[mechazushi]

Spoilers for Chapter 117

GUYS, GUYS, GUYS, Guys, guys !!!!

Hear Me Out....

KafHoshi.... is fated reincarnated soulmates / doomed yaoi.

Kafka's ancestor and Hoshina's were good friends up until a certain point. The stress of the upcoming battle was straining their relationship and it all came to a head when Hoshina's ancestor said "You're not fit for this clan."...

It would be the last thing he said to Kafka's ancestor before he died.

While Kafka's ancestor got injected with the souls of a tortured thousand, Hoshina's ended up regretting his last words so much that he prayed to be reincarnated at a point where he could meet Kafka's and be the friend he should have been until their last moments.

Now I'm just imagining Kafka not being able to look Hoshina in the eye after the fight. Not in a "you doubted me once, you'll doubt me again." Sort of way, but in a "I can't be with you because it will happen again." Sort of way.

GOD, the angst is delicious.

[whumpspicelatte]

A Mouth Filled With Blood: Terry in "King's Counsel"

Set about four days(?) after Two Steps Back

Juno belongs to @echo-goes-aaa / @echo-goes-mmm

Warnings: Depression, suicidal ideation, implied past dubcon/noncon, implied past abuse, fear of future noncon, mild accidental self injury (twice), fear of becoming like past whumpers?

Time passed. The week ended. Juno healed enough to return to his crate that he still preferred to sleep in when not in their now-shared bed in his eight-months-new king’s room. Terrance finally, finally got to take off the gloves. The court was even finally beginning to cool down a bit from their thwarted feeding frenzy. 

Juno watched Terrance like he was going to tear his throat out with his teeth, and that wary gaze had banished Terrance from his own rooms like he had four ravenous, white-faced ghosts nipping at his heels. 

What had he done to earn that? What had he done to make Juno fear him? 

….had Juno seen what he’d done to his advisors? Had he scared his boy? Was that why Juno seemed to think Terrance was going to hurt him? Why Juno was looking at him the way Terrance might have once looked at-

No. No. He wasn’t his mother, he wasn’t his father, he wasn’t his older brother. 

He wasn’t. He wasn’t. 

…was he? 

Terrance rested his head in his hands, elbows braced against his desk. Nothing felt quite real since he’d settled Juno back into his rooms. As if he were walking through pearly white mist and everything he touched were made of solid smoke. 

He should be happy, shouldn’t he? Juno was alright. He didn’t have to deal with his advisors anymore. The ensuing ripples through court had finally begun to calm down. For the first time in years, he didn’t have fresh bruising to layer upon the yellowing and purpling flesh hidden under his robes. He no longer had to wear silks and fabrics which could fall off his body with just the tug of a hidden ribbon. 

Nobody touched him. Nobody hurt him. 

…nobody touched him, not since he’d emerged from the council room with Juno half-dead in his arms. Nobody. 

Nobody at all. 

He closed his eyes, trying his best to banish the burning threatening to make him tear up. The inner lining of his throat began to swell. 

What was wrong with him? Something had to be wrong with him. Nobody else seemed to struggle with just getting up in the morning. Nobody else seemed to spend hours in the bathtub, trying to even gather the resolve to get up and dry themself off. Nobody else had to spend an entire day unable to get out of bed not out of pain, but simply from the mental exhaustion of doing his duty the rest of the week. Not that he knew of. 

Something was wrong with him. So very, very wrong. But what was it? 

Did anyone else ever fantasize of going under the bathwater and never coming back up? Of a punishment having gone too far, having dug too deep, having hit something vital, of bleeding out on wood and stone? Of one day falling asleep and never having to wake up? 

He shouldn’t be entertaining these thoughts. If he died, with no viable candidate to inherit the curse and the kingdom, Rhodantheia would implode at the breaking of the curse. Not quite literally, but with the resulting wave of cataclysms…

Terrance couldn’t be a second King Raphael II, no matter if the vile man were his namesake. He couldn’t let himself be the last of his line. 

Even if it eventually meant marrying, now that it was unlikely to end in his death. 

He… he should get on with that, shouldn’t he? Finding a bride. A mother to his children who could raise them well. Who was…was fertile. Willing. Capable. Who would… would use him…

Terrance choked down bile, hands cupping his mouth. 

Later. Yes, later. He could do that- later. 

Plenty of paperwork he still had to do now. The prospect of marriage could wait for another day. 

He groped around for pen and paper and threw himself into his paperwork in the hopes it would help him flee from his own thoughts. Deaden his mind. Allow him to be useful. To be worth something beyond his blood and bones and flesh and-

And- 

His fingers shook too hard for him to properly scrawl his signature, forcing him to set the inkwell pen down and press his open hands against the wood of his desk. 

Enough. He was fine. He was fine. 

Maybe, if he repeated it enough times, he would begin to believe it. 

He was safe. Juno was safe. Everyone was safe. 

He squeezed his eyes shut, tilting his head back against his seat. His hands clutched the edge of his desk, knuckles white. And yet still tremors ran up his hands. At any moment, someone was going to come through those doors. Antoine or Ser Beauchene or Elodie or Wethoras or- or one of the others. Someone was going to slip inside, see his state, grab him by the shoulder, twist him over their lap and- 

What was wrong with him? 

They were gone. They were gone, and they weren’t coming back. None of them were going to hurt Terrance again. None of them were going to get even a chance at hurting Juno again. 

Juno…

…Juno, who feared him, now. 

It took a moment for him to realize that the blood filing his mouth behind his thinly pressed limbs leaked out from his tongue instead of another person’s flesh, that the ache in his teeth was from him grinding them together instead of his canines and molars breaking another person’s bones. 

It took a moment after that for the sting to hit his senses. 

Ow. 

He breathed in, breathed out. Inhaled, exhaled. In, and out. In, and out. 

Shaky fingers pried themselves off varnished wood to knead at silk-covered knees instead. Terrance lowered his chin to protect his barred neck. Focused on the air whistling in and out of his nose.

He pried his eyes open to stare down at ink printed over paper. 

Right. Work. 

He…he had to work. 

Terrance picked up the pen, set it to paper, and did his best not to cry. 

His mother would be so very angry with him to know how much he had cried these past few years, after all her work to yank such an undignified habit out of his skull like a loose tooth. 

She would have never let things get so bad with the council. 

The council had respected her. In a way they never had him. In a way that they might never respect him. Especially now. 

The door creaked open, and Terrance couldn’t help but flinch, sending a sharp jagged scrawl across the paper he was signing. Damn it all. Why had he done that? Why did he keep on ruining whatever he touched-

A soft, wrinkled hand glinting with rings laid itself on his fist, and only then did he notice the sharp sting of his nail digging into his palm. When he set his hand flat on the table, he spotted blood under his nails. 

Damn it. 

His gaze drifted up to meet the Duchess’s own eyes, lined with subtle makeup to hide the tired shadows beneath. Dread pooled in his gut. The wetness along his lashes felt like the first symptoms of poison in an empty cup. 

A king does not cry. A king does not let others know that he had cried-

Delphine Valentin’s hand cupped his cheek, and Terrance couldn’t help but flinch at the graze of her soft skin, skin prickling for the sting of a slap. But all she did was let his head rest in her hold. Let his thoughts fizzle in his head, empty out of his skull. Let him melt. 

Quiet. 

Finally, finally quiet. 

Her thumb ran beneath his eye and drew away wet. Distantly, he recognized the heat trickling down his cheeks. But all he could focus on was touch. 

It had been a little over a week since anyone had touched him. Anyone at all. Nobody had touched him since he’d brought Juno for healing. His hand hadn’t brushed against another’s skin since Juno had first woken up. 

He’d gotten spoiled, having his boy press into his side to sleep every night, having Juno’s calloused hands wrap his fingers around a warm mug on the daily. 

Gods, he missed it. 

And he didn’t know if he’d ever get that back. 

If he’d ever get back the one person in over a year to touch him without ill intent-

His vision blurred, a rough sob leaving his throat mangled and bruised. Soft lips pressed against his forehead. The Duchess’s voice rippled through the air like water, but he couldn’t make the slightest sense of it, burned out by the warmth of her hand bleeding into his skin. 

His eyes fluttered shut as he was hauled up into someone’s side, glove slipped off for a gentle, wrinkled hand to take its place. Leading him somewhere. He didn’t know where. He just knew he was being touched. 

He didn’t know when would be the next time he’d get to be touched.