#cw injury and implied mcd

[goodlucktai]

16 for the dialogue prompts?

dialogue prompts

16. “God, I’m so sorry, it’ll be over soon, I promise.”

@dandywonderous im so sorry about this in advance 🥹

x

When they were little, and they started wearing masks because Mikey wanted to be like the heroes he watched in Saturday morning cartoons, Donnie asked Splinter to cut the tails of his short so they wouldn’t get in his way.

Leo thought that was a crazy decision, because if the tails were short they wouldn’t match Raph’s. 

“So?” Donnie said, unscrewing the bottom panel of the oscillating fan he stole from Splinter’s room. 

“So what?” Leo said. 

“So what if I don’t match Raph? I don’t have to,” Donnie pointed out, a seven year old at his most reasonable.

His twin blinked, then his striped cheeks puffed out, brow furrowing, fully not understanding the question. He wanted to do everything Raphie did, but denied it when anyone told him so. 

This certain proof of that behavior made Donnie smile, quiet and indulgent the way he only ever was for his other half, but only when it was just the two of them. 

Leo whined and kicked his feet but Donnie wouldn’t tell him what was funny. 

Those long blue mask tails are sodden and heavy as Donnie shifts them out of the way, leaving a sickening trail of red where they drag against Leo’s neck and shoulder. 

They’re pinned down, what’s left of the tunnel groaning and shifting around them, at least three Technodromes filling the sky outside. Donnie can feel the hum of impending doom in his teeth. 

“Hush, Nardo,” Donnie whispers, hand clamped over Leo’s mouth hard, even though it cuts him to have to do this. “You can’t scream, mellizo. Hush.”

His twin writhes, digging at Donnie’s grip with desperate fingers. His chest is heaving, eyes wild with pain. The rosy glow of Raph’s ninpo is all they have to see by as the projection hovers above them in case of another collapse. In the dim light, Donnie can almost pretend it’s mud he’s kneeling in, warm and slick and pooling at an alarming rate from the slab of concrete that Leo’s right arm has been crushed under.  

The safe zone has been compromised. It’s devastating, but not at all surprising. Two of their scouts didn’t report in when they should have, baseline humans who didn’t have a hope of resisting the Krang’s method of interrogation, so it was only a matter of time before the enemy came knocking. 

April, Mikey and Cass have been evacuating their people and transporting supplies in and out of sunny orange portals all morning while Draxum, Hob and Usagi guarded their every move with eagle-eyed vigilance. 

Donnie, Raph and Leo were holding the Krang at bay for every extra second that they could, but they stayed out there a second too long. 

Now Leo is bleeding and the Krang hounds are prowling, their horrible faces scraping the ground as they sniff out that rich source of life, and Donnie’s mind is blank with panic. They’re trapped, and if he lets go then Leo will scream and bring death down on them, and if he doesn’t then death will come anyway, with teeth and venom.

“Shhh, Lilo,” Donnie tries to soothe, imagining Leo’s sweet, bright ‘shhh yourself, Dodo!’ in place of the uncomprehending whine he gets in response. “God, I’m so sorry. It’ll be over soon, I promise.”

Maybe we should pray, he thinks wildly. Not to god, because that would be a spectacular waste of breath, but to one of the people who left the party early and might be willing to toss a miracle or two in their direction. Papa, or Gram-gram, or April’s mom. 

The red projection surrounding them begins to shrink. Slowly, making sure the rocks above and around them won’t shift, until the ninpo is just a warm glow beneath Raph’s skin. Donnie feels a rush of relief and anticipation—Raph has a plan, Raph will tell him what to do. 

Raph puts one arm around Donnie’s shoulders and cups Leo’s face with his other hand, stroking his cheek with the pad of his thumb. Blood smears beneath his fingers. His expression is hard to read in the dark underground. 

“You’ll be alright, big man,” Raph murmurs, all conviction, as if he can make it true out of sheer love. If anyone could, it would be him. Then he says, “Donnie, can you cut him out?”

The question makes his stomach lurch with nausea, bitter and acidic, but it’s a question that he can answer. After fighting in a three-turtle team for the better part of two hours, Donnie’s ninpo feels like coffee dregs left in the bottom of an empty pot. He has enough strength left that he could summon a tool for an emergency amputation, but only that. 

“Not quickly,” he says pointedly, “or quietly.”

Raph nods. He just sits there for a minute, holding them. They don’t have a minute and Raphie knows that but he’s just holding them. Donnie’s heart begins to race in a brand-new direction, some frightened thing in his very center sitting up and taking notice. 

Donatello has always been an incredible number of things, not all of them good or noble or worth bragging about, but above all else, at the end of each and every day, he was Raphael’s little brother. 

Donnie didn’t imitate him when they were kids—didn’t wear his mask tails long or find reasons to follow him around—but he was every firm hug Donnie needed to keep his skin from itching when life got too loud. He was an attentive, listening audience when Donnie had to talk about the things pingponging around in his mind without being interrupted or he’d scream. He was the large hands that held Donnie’s, the snaggle-toothed face that smiled in encouragement, when Donnie learned to walk. 

Donnie knew him fundamentally. Intrinsically. A textbook he never had to study, knowledge that grew up with him from the first moment he opened his eyes to the big, bright world. That’s how he knew what was about to happen the second before it did. 

“No,” Donnie says hoarsely. “Please don’t.” 

“Raphie’s gotcha,” Raph says warmly, the last steadfast and solid and remarkably kind thing left in the apocalypse.

He reaches down and presses the panic button on Donnie’s gauntlet. The alert activates with a bright pinging sound effect, echoing twice in their little disaster-made cavern as it’s received by Leo and Raph’s comms, and the Krang hounds nearby whine and bark in excitement. Their claws churn up earth and rock as they start to run.

Raph spares a second to press a kiss against Donnie’s temple, and another to Leo’s forehead, and then he’s gone. The light goes with him. Donnie shakes like a leaf, unreasonably cold, unable to think. 

Leo is half out of his mind by now, sobbing and jerking at his trapped limb, but all his agony is soundly drowned out by the brutal battle Raphael is leading far away from them. 

“Hush,” Donnie whispers, eyes stinging so badly he can hardly keep them open, tears dripping endlessly down his face. “It’ll be over soon.”

[highcaliberstupidity]

Brain had sad MCD/MCI Ghoap thoughts last night so now all of you get to suffer with me.

Ghost/Soap, straight-up angst, nothing but angst

CW - Implied Main Character Death/Major Injury (Ending is ambiguous, can be taken either way)

I see everyone always talking about the 'So you do like me' when Soap gets any sort of major injury or dies in a fic. But I have yet to see anything centered around the lines

"You have a heart?"

"A cold one."

So just, hear me out here, lemme cook

There's blood everywhere, and Soap's so, so pale. Med Evac is on the way, but there's no telling if they'll get there in time. He's weak, barely able to close his hands into a fist when he grabs onto Ghost's tac vest.

"Guess it wasn't so cold after all, eh Simon?" And it's whispered in a voice so hoarse and scratchy, a cracked, blood-filled smile weak on Soap's face.

"It was you, you asshole. Your the one that fucking warmed it." Ghost just hisses, trying to choke down a full-body sob. "So you don't get to fucking die MacTavish, you started this shit so now your going to stick around and deal with it!" And he's holding him so hard he'd be leaving bruises if Soap had enough blood in him to bruise with.

"Knew there was more to ya, a sweet, bonnie lad hiding under that mask." And Soap's grin is crooked, and his eyes are fluttering as his grip starts to loosen.

"Don't you dare Johnny, don't you fucking dare!" And Ghost can't stop it now, he can't stop the sob that shakes through him when he grabs at his face, and he feels like he's going to hyperventilate. "You keep your goddamn eyes open, do you hear me?!"

But Soap isn't really listening now, shivers wracking his sweating body as he lifts a hand up and gropes, weak and shakey at the edge of his mask.

"Can I see ya, just one more time, Si?"

And it's said so broken and pathetically, and Ghost wants to scream at him, tell him no because that'll make him stay if he can't see his face, he can't die, they can fix him. But he yanks it off anyway, and he can't stop the tears when he sees that sad smile on Soap's face.

"Please, please just hold on." Ghost chokes out the words between tears, turning his face into Soap's hand when it brushes weakly against his cheek, shaking.

"F-fuckin... b-beautiful.. S-Simon..." and then his hand slips away, falling limp, and Simon moves without thought, perfect autopilot taking over as he drops him into the dirt and begins CPR.

And he begs, sobs, and pleads with Soap's still form, heedless of his unmasked face and the rotor wash kicking up dirt and wind, of the voices and boots rushing toward them.

He has to save him, he has to fucking save him because he doesn't want to be cold anymore.

[lynnt1ny]

lyn's masterlist <3

Safe At Home Short Yungi fluffy oneshot 🎃 completed!

You're Magic To Me Woosan, multichaptered, my beloved, Prince!Wooyoung and Servant!San 💖 complete!

Backlog of fics to be put up:

Pitter Patter Woosan, oneshot Heavy angst, CW: zombies, MCD, implied suicide, guns, just violent in general; A fic solely designed to make you cry. ☹️ complete! Sign of the Times Woohwa, longish oneshot, Hogwarts shenanigans, CW: very implied homophobia, like almost blink and you'll miss it ✨ complete!

(more under cut, I'm just realizing this post may be getting long)

Watch Over Me Woosan, 2 chaps, written for a Halloween exchange, so creepy vibes (but also somehow quite fluffy? idk how I did this) CW: guns, stalking, blood and injury, referenced past kidnapping ❄️ complete! You're Insufferable Woosan, sequel to You're Magic To Me, 4 chaps, just fluff 💍 complete! Thank You for the Game Woosang, multichaptered, chess...? stuff...? GM meets a park hustler ♟ incomplete A Patchwork Story Woosan, multichaptered, "canon compliant" San falling in love over the years as an idol 🧩 incomplete Sunflower Woosan, multichaptered, Wooyoung Spider-Man AU! 🕸 incomplete

[whywouldisayprinter]

TW BLOOD

"I'm the one who was supposed to kill you. You promised."

"Don't cry for me my sweet Illumi. You can keep the money anyways."

"Oh shut up, I don't care about the money"

"My, I could almost think you care about me, my murderous husband~~"

"Shut up. Please....I love you."

"I know Illu. I love you too♡"

[phoebe-delia]

and rain will make the flowers grow

Yall. I am so so sorry for this. I am putting this fic under a cut for a reason. This is one of the sadder things I've written. CW: implied MCD/main character death, implied mutual pining, life-threatening injury. Based on "A Little Fall of Rain" from Les Miserables. (Btw, I recommend the original Broadway or London version, or better yet, the 10th-anniversary live soundtrack with Lea Salonga.) Enjoy? I guess? And again—I'm sorry.

"It's raining," Draco said. His voice was strained and thick.

Harry stopped what he was doing—only for a second—to look incredulously at Draco. "Is that really your main concern?" He tried not to look down at Draco's body growing heavier, at the way it shook against him. Harry shook himself into focus, gripping his wand and ignoring the pounding rain at his back as he cast spell after spell to Heal the boy in his arms.

The forest was quiet but for Harry's muttering and Draco's labored breathing, as if the air itself was recovering from the cacophony of spellfire and shouts during the skirmish with the Neo Death Eaters. One of the bastards had thrown a spell aimed at Harry and hit Draco, who had lept in front of him to take it. Harry dropped his guard for an instant, thinking only of catching Draco's collapsing body. The suspects had disapparated from the Scottish forest they'd been hiding in after escaping the Aurors for months.

Harry didn't know whether the drops on his face and glasses were sweat, tears, or rain, but he managed to keep his vision just clear enough to see whether his efforts were working. He ran through the spells in his mind, and tried calculating the number of Apparition jumps it would take to get back to St. Mungos; their portkey had been broken in the fight.

He was just about to try another spell—one he thought he remembered from one of the mandatory training videos they'd watched, when he felt a trembling, cool hand cover his own.

"Harry. 'S okay," Draco sucked in a breath. "The s-spell is—it's Dark. What we know can't...reverse it."

Harry gripped Draco tighter. "No—no Draco there has to be a way. Or I'll get you to Mungo's, I—"

"Harry."

His name sounded so lovely, so heart-achingly perfect from Draco, as if it'd been whispered across a pillow and not a waste of precious air. Harry's heart lurched at the sound. "You have to let me try," he said, his voice cracking.

He felt more than heard Draco swallow. "There's nothing...to do."

Harry closed his eyes. "I can't just give up—"

He felt Draco shake his head minutely. "Just—" Draco groaned a bit, eyebrows wrinkled in pain. "Just stay here with me. Be with me."

Harry didn't know how to respond, so he just fell silent. He did reach into his satchel and gave Draco one of their last pain potions, which Draco took with only minimal resistance.

"I used to imagine this," Draco said after a few minutes of silence, his voice much quieter now.

"What?" Harry whispered back.

"D-during the war. I thought I was...going to die. An' I wanted—" Draco let out a shaky breath—"to die in your arms."

Harry's entire body shook with the force of the sob that ripped itself from his throat. He squeezed Draco tighter against him. "Draco," he whispered. It was all he could say, all he could think.

"I love the rain," Draco said faintly, so much so Harry had to bend down to hear him. "Will you stay with me unt—" Draco broke off to gasp a breath—"until the sun comes out?"

"Yeah," Harry croaked. "I will."

[archies-litterbox]

Whumptober No. 4: Trust Fall

“Do you trust me?” | taken hostage | pushed

Summary: Out of desperation to prevent history from literally repeating itself, Douxie puts his neck on the line and makes a rash decision.

Words: 2043

A/N: I am way behind but here we goooooo! I’m actually planning on continuing this with another prompt fill, so I’m excited to do that once I catch up!

[CW: Intentional Self-Injury, Throat Slashing, Blood, Implied MCD? (I plan on doing a part 2 addressing the aftermath of his survival), Swearing, Skrael Being A Prick]

--

It wasn’t supposed to go this way again.

When Jim first restored Douxie’s memories of the future - telling him to hold out his hand for a tip when he’d been waiting on the boy at the cafe, only for the time-reversing trollhunter to touch that amulet to Douxie’s palm instead… and then placing a twenty dollar bill in his hand as well, bless him - the first thing the wizard felt was frustration. Why on earth and all things beyond did he go back this far?

Not even just before the Eternal Night, but - this time around, at least, which left implications of others thay Douxie did not have the energy to wonder about - only a few days after Jim first found the amulet in the first place.

Why not reverse time to right before that fight on the subway, so they could properly nullify Bellroc and Skrael’s magic long enough to handle the threat they posed before they ever got their hands on Nari?

Perhaps Jim had been desperate to save more, beyond that devastating day when they all lost so much saving the world… but with that desperation came risk, and even with all he’d lost, Douxie knew that.

But when he saw his master alive and well again, he found he couldn’t complain much. When he’d been woken from his healing sleep, he was ever the crotchety, surly old man who could barely see past his own motivation, but Douxie took that over a pile of dust - and a grimoire he had the audacity to write in draconic - any day.

He never told his master of his fate in the future - that he’d end up little more than a grimoire and dust that could easily be sucked up by a vacuum. Why did he need to know? Past, present, or future, Merlin Ambrosius’ ego was still strong enough that if it were a heartstone, it could power seven trollmarkets, and he probably wouldn’t believe Douxie anyway, least of all if he said Merlin sacrificed himself for an individual.

Even if that individual was him.

Things had actually been going rather well, in comparison to the future-past Douxie remembered. Because Douxie knew the way to Merlin’s tomb, Jim hadn’t lost one of his close allies found in the son of Kangijar. Jim had still turned into a troll, knowing it was to prevent a time paradox arisen by his troll self meeting Merlin in Camelot, but on the trek to New Jersey, he had not, thankfully, found himself with any sort of corruptive shard in his chest.

But the Arcane Order was nothing if not an inevitable force - Douxie knew that from his year on the run.

They came after Nari, like they seemed they were always destined to do. Douxie, of course, came to Merlin’s side to protect her. She may not have known him yet, but that wouldn’t stop him from protecting his little sister. Nothing would.

Even without Jim’s corruption, which they thankfully avoided, the Arcane Order got the upper hand. He couldn’t remember the ruse he’d come up with this time to surrender “Nari”, or even what trade he’d wanted to make. Those were all menial details, thrown out the window to make room for panic when things went south.

Everything happened so fast, like a blur of things turning for the worse. Jim, Claire, Steve, Archie, all his friends that came for the plan - they’d been bested, collapsed in more or less of a heap against a wall of the Arcane Order’s ship. Some of them were knocked unconscious, and those who were awake were either too exhausted or hurt, or a horrendous mix of both, to keep fighting.

Merlin stood alone, seeing that every ally - every somehow-still-bright-eyed youth he’d brought to this fight - lay beaten by the eons-old demigods hellbent on getting their missing third back, regardless of how vehement her refusal was.

And Douxie…

He’d kept fighting with Merlin as everyone else went down, of course he did, but with one blow too many, the wind got knocked out of him, and the next thing he knew, he became quite well-acquainted with the ground.

He lay prone for a few moments, too shocked by the impact to spring back into action, and right as he started to move his hands again, he felt the cruel, relentlessly cold feeling of ice around his wrists, like… like manacles.

No.

He felt the same feeling around his ankles before they came together, held steadfast by the ice.

No!

He heard a laugh that sounded more like a hiss above him, like a hailstorm from the throat, and if it weren’t for the cold sensation brought on by the ice, he would have been more aware of the chill that ran up his back.

SKRAEL-

Before he could even start to struggle, Douxie was yanked into the air by the ice around his wrists and ankles. The wrist ice-cuffs snapped together behind his back and pulled his arms straight behind him, forcing his shoulders back in a stretch that was almost painful.

But he feared that “almost” was fleeting.

“Hisirdoux!” he heard Merlin shout below him. When he opened his eyes, the worried look on his master’s face, which so rarely ever housed such a vulnerable expression, made him wish he didn’t.

“I’m sorry!” he grunted, “This is my fault! It’s- GAH!”

A groan escaped his throat as Skrael lifted the wrist cuffs, pulling his hands up with them and wrenching his arms back.

Yep. Yep. The “almost” was gone. It was just painful now.

“And now, we have a new proposal for you.” Bellroc said in that perpetual growl of theirs as they put a firewall between the out-of-commission guardians and what was now a hostage situation in front of them. As if they had a chance to stop it anyway.

Oh, fuzzbuc-

He couldn’t even finish the thought in his mind. Like his wrists and ankles were coated in ice, his mind froze in panic when a blade of ice appeared mere hair-widths away from his throat. He could feel the cold air emanating from the knife, like hovering a hand over a chunk of ice. Douxie pulled his head back, stretching it as far as his predicament allowed because he was scared that even the pulse of his pounding heart could brush against the knife. Speaking of his heart, he tried to tune out it’s pounding in his ears as he strained to listen to Skrael’s demand.

“Give us Nari,” he said in that slithery voice of his, “or he dies.”

...No.

No, no, no.

He knew this. He’d seen it - he’d lived it before.

He hadn’t had a blade to his throat, but he’d been pinned down by the unrelenting hand of a corrupted, beastly Jim under the Order’s control, his life kept in the balance by that same ultimatum.

And Merlin refused either option. For once, he put an individual - put him - above the greater good. He fought, he retaliated to protect his apprentice, and that Green Knight killed him for it.

And now, it was happening all over again, and he’d - and he’d - no, no, NO -

“Don’t do it, Master!” he cried, “Please, don’t-”

With an eye-roll, Skrael flicked his wrist and Douxie felt an unbearable cold crawl over his mouth, stopping his lips from moving anymore. A gag. Skrael put an ice gag on him. Of course he did. It was Skrael, the little… prick.

Now, staring at his father through eyes clouded by tears, Douxie understood why Jim had gone back so far; understood his desperation to save as many of his loved ones as he could.

Because Hisirdoux Casperan could not watch Merlin Ambrosius die again.

Not if he had any way to stop it.

And he only had one, the only way he could think of; to take away the Order’s leverage, to make sure they couldn’t hold his life literally over Merlin’s head.

Looking past the flames cornering his friends, he eyed Claire. She was one of the only few still conscious, battered and holding Archie protectively. Both she and his familiar caught his gaze, and his eyebrows upturned.

They both seemed to catch onto his intention, judging by the raise in Archie’s little grey fur-brows and the way Claire covered her mouth and started to shake her head, and he hoped they saw the apology in his eyes.

“You will not harm the boy!” he could hear Merlin shout as he took deep, quick breaths. He had to do it, and he had to do it now, before he fought back, and the Order-

No, he had to do it now. Now now NOW-

He drew his head back.

“Not while I draw brea-”

He threw his head forward.

For a fleeting, fleeting, fleeting moment, all he felt was cold - a freezing sensation, plunging into his neck and making him choke against the ice.

But it preceded only agony.

Even though the blade was made of ice, it felt like his throat was on fire. A searing feeling ripped through his neck, and he would’ve screamed, if not for both the ice still clamped on his mouth and the - the - the -

He went limp, feeling the hauntingly metallic taste of a sickeningly warm fluid fill his mouth, still frozen over so he couldn’t spit up the… the blood.

He’d done it.

Douxie went limp in the ice restraints, putting more strain on his arms and making them ache that much further. But it was nothing compared to his throat.

As he looked to the ground, he could feel blood dripping down his neck, and he could see it dripping down, down, down onto the floor below. It almost mesmerized him, almost drowned out the wailing from Claire, the yowling from Archie, and the desperation in Merlin’s voice as he shouted the boy’s name.

“HISIRDOUX!”

Oh, Douxie remembered how it felt to feel as desperate as Merlin sounded; he remembered feeling all but crushed under that stone hand, watching Arthur - damned Arthur - plunge that sword into his master’s abdomen. Yes, he remembered that desperation from the moment he watched Merlin Ambrosius die.

As apologetic as he felt, as he could manage to feel… there was also a sense of relief he found in being not the watching, but the watched, for he knew the greater pain.

“Ack!” He heard Skrael squawk, though he sounded so far away now.

His restraints shattered, likely from Skrael’s shock, and gravity claimed him.

With the ice over his mouth shattered and gone, a mouthful of blood spurted from Douxie’s mouth as his breath got ripped from his lungs before he could even try to gasp. He felt the wind blowing past him as he fell and he fell and… he stopped falling.

He felt warmth around him, and although his vision was spotting now, he could see the green aura around him, slowing his fall and gently, gently, gently lowering him to the ground.

Merlin’s magic.

Over his slowing, heavy heartbeat, he could hear the clanging of metal against the ground, over and over, hurried - his Master’s armored footsteps, rushing to him. Of course.

After an eternal few seconds, the green glow around him went away, and with it’s departure came a new sensation; the feeling of two arms under his knees and back, and the feeling of an armored chest against his side. Merlin’s.

Douxie leaned his head against Merlin’s shoulder as more of his blood poured down his chest, seeping into his hoodie. Even though his eyelids felt so, so heavy, he looked up at Merlin as they fluttered.

It was okay, really. Even as he saw the terror in Merlin’s eyes - a feeling he would never be used to seeing in them - as he looked down at him, it was okay.

Because he saved him; he protected him from the fate of that godawful future-past; he took away the chance for the Arcane Order to ever hold his life over Merlin’s head.

Well, Douxie thought, if it has to be me this time… 

His eyes fell shut.

...It’s not so bad to die in my father’s arms.

[codevassie]

Superpower TS Fic Recs

[***Let me know if I’ve missed anything on the Content Warnings!]

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[*Leave these authors Comments, please and thank you!]

What You Can Stand by manyfandomsonelog

Status: Incomplete, Work In Progress

Summary:  Virgil tried so, so hard to avoid becoming a supervillain. He really did. But when your superpower is literally manifesting a person's worst fears, it's a hard thing to avoid. Still, he really, really tried. Even when his own parents feared him. Even when the whole school feared him. Even when he hated himself and his Propensity so much that he wanted to give in. He might've succeeded, if he hadn't met him- Roman Reyes, AKA Roman Spectacular, AKA The Prince, AKA the worst thing that has ever happened to him (which is saying something).

Relationships: Prinxiety, Logicality 

CW: Psychological stuff, nightmares, bullying, physical harm, spiders, panic attacks, suicidal thoughts, brief discussion of racism, self-hatred,  bomb, explosion, blood, injury, bad/abusive parenting, imprisonment, fire,  homophobia, pedophilia mention, discussion of child abuse, evidence of physical abuse, sexual innuendo, anxious thoughts, death, funeral, flashback, reference to sex, fairly aggressive arguing and yelling, public speaking, secondhand embarrassment

My thoughts: My quarantine savior!!! I started the fic like a week into quarantine, so I really mean that literally. The characterization is absolutely fantastic--I love seeing all of them interact. It’s so natural and fun and interesting. The plot is also just wonderful--one thing keeps happening after another and these guys just cannot seem to get a break. The pacing is awesome, and whether it’s a character or plot chapter, you just can’t look away. Log is such a fantastic writer and a wonderful person, so if you like awesome prinxiety, superpowers and secret identities, trust and betrayal, humor and angst, you really need to read this one! 

Rewind by ravenclawicecream 

Status: Incomplete, Work In Progress

Summary: When a group of superheroes show up to kill him, it's just another Wednesday for Virgil Messana. After five years of being on the run, he's used to the idea people want him dead. That fact is just an unfortunate side effect of having the power to destroy everything you touch. What does surprise him, however, is when he finds himself agreeing to join those superheros and become part of the team. It's not long until Virgil learns that all the heroes have chapters of their lives they'd rather keep unpublished, along with events they'd rather not relive. And, as he spends more time with the team, he realizes that he may know certain members much better than he'd originally thought. Virgil longs for a moment to figure everything out but by then it's too late. He's already caught up in a bigger scheme; one where they no longer have the power to control their own destinies. With every movement monitored and every action proven to be calculated, the lines between allies and enemies blur, leaving Virgil caught in between. When the stakes are inevitably raised, the remaining heroes must do all they can to change the future of the world. But time has always been a cruel master, and sometimes the only answer is to rewind.

Relationships: Loceit, Logicality, Prinxiety, Remile

CW: Major Character Death, Murder

My thoughts: Gosh, I wish this one got more love. It’s probably the MCD tag, so understandable, but also take into consideration the time travel tag and perhaps give it a chance? I feel like this fic is setting up for so much, and I cannot wait to see how it all goes down. I have so many questions for this fic which is always a good sign (so many that I may have freaked the author out with my WALL of questions on chapter three don’t worry about it /j). Please. Read. This. 

Powerless by patentpending 

Status: Complete

Summary: “People like us,” Logan had once remarked to Virgil. “Are statistical anomalies.”(Almost) Everyone in the world has powers. As for those who don’t, well, they’re such a small part of the population - only 0.04% - why would anyone care about them?Ever since he realized what people mean when they call him Powerless, Virgil Sanders has tried to fight back against the system that oppresses people like him, Patton, and Logan. When Patton’s bakery is targeted in a hate crime, he finally snaps. With the help of a mysterious sponsor, Virgil becomes a villain, ready to remake a broken society. The only thing standing in his way is the world’s most Powerful (and infuriatingly charming) superhero: The Prince, who is hiding the fact that his gilded life isn’t as perfect as it may seem.

Relationships: Prinxiety, Logicality, Roman/Female Fanon Character 

CW: Classism, Unreliable Narrator, Thinly Veiled Criticism of Society,  emetophobia, violence, gun mention,  implied suicide attempt, dub-con, mentions of blood, graphic depictions of a riot, non-graphic description of a wound, possessive and abusive behavior, kid being kicked out of the house by parent, kidnapping, kinda torture (?), body horror, gore, graphic descriptions of injuries, emotional abuse, police brutality, pain and injury, burning building, swearing, vomiting, murder, panic attack, dysphoria, misgendering, minor character death, major character death, self deprecating talk, mentions of suicide

My thoughts: Well, doing a TS superhero rec without Powerless is just treason. I don’t know--I’m trying to figure out a way to describe it and instead launching up to pace around the room with an instant replay of different scenes in my head. I mean, the grocery store chapter?!?! This stuff lives in my head rent free. The characterization, the banter, the tension, the motives--I can’t describe it y’all. Just, if you love yourselves (love yourselves, please <3) then just go read it. Or reread it. Do that for yourselves. 

Waterspout by Greenninjagal

Status: Complete

Summary: "Hail!” The boy says all smug smiles that Virgil immediately hates. “You’re Recluse aren’t you?”As if there was some other spider themed weirdo who clung to buildings in their free time.“No,” Virgil says, because he can. *** Virgil finds himself stuck on the side of a building in a rainstorm and is helped by an annoying-admittedly attractive-guy.

Relationships: Prinxiety

CW: Mild cursing, storms

My thoughts: This one is very cute. Virgil is a spiderman-like hero who went up a waterspout, and down comes some rain trying to wash him out. Roman comes to help, they banter a bit, and, maybe, there’s a little surprise at the end. I would not mind more of this AU. In fact, I would love it. But that should not discount how wonderfully made a oneshot it is either. The author wrote it perfectly for the length it is, presenting the charm of the characters, great plot and symbolism, and left me wanting more at the same time. Definitely go check this one out. 

Technically. It’s A Secret by supervillain 

Status: Incomplete, Work In Progress

Summary: Virgil Storm, the adopted son of a reality TV star with telekinesis was born without a power. That's been a problem for him all his life. His only friend is Patton Vega, his only chance at romance the irritating Cros Corson--until he gets a job at a top-secret facility, playing babysitter to a bunch of kids with dangerous powers and even more dangerous minds. Kids who happen to be exactly his age.Yeah, this is going to be a piece of cake, especially when the enigmatic villain Believe (aka Roman Torres) takes a liking to Virgil. And even worse, when Virgil starts to more than like him back. Pull in some evil mad scientists, a plague created to decimate the world, a murderous villain, an obnoxious stalker, and the greatest Kinetic the world has ever known, and you're in for a hell of a ride.

Relationships: Prinxiety, Logicality 

CW:  Anxiety attacks, arson, murder, minor character death, blood, spiders, being eaten alive, falling, death, sleeping, fighting, cop mention 

My thoughts: I’m behind on this one, and I wanted to catch up on it before I posted this rec list. Today is the last Friday of the year though, so I decided to just go ahead and do it. I love this fic a ton so far, and I can’t wait to read more. I can tell the author put a lot of thought into writing the world and characters, and that the plot is interesting and deliberate. There’s mysteries unfolding which intrigues me So Bad. It’s a super interesting one, so I’d say go read it!

[thoughtsonhurtandcomfort]

The barbed wire content finally got the better of me and I decided to try to write a little something.

CW: captive, barbed wire, restrained, suspended, blood, injury, non-human whumpee, wing whump, temporary implied MCD (but not actually)

Rescuer POV

Feat my OC Cloe, who is a creature I don’t have a name for, but he is smol (as in short and frail, but not Tiny) and has small feathery wings. There’s a pic of him on my OC Masterlist.

The team easily takes out the guards in the facility; there aren’t many, and they’re just hired meatheads, not trained professionals. It’s late at night and whoever runs the place isn’t here, nor are they expecting anyone to show up.

They move in smoothly and silently, weapons raised. They’re here because they caught word of creatures being taken here to be killed - probably for their horns, wings, blood, and whatever else to be sold on the black market.

People like them are why this team exists. They’re a group of highly skilled, good-hearted humans, who seek to prevent harm coming to other beings.

Once the building is secured and they are sure no guards remain, they split up and begin checking the cells.

To their disappointment, though it isn’t entirely unexpected, every room they enter is either empty - shackles and chains, blood stains, a tray with a half-eaten meager meal here and there, but no creature - or worse; the victim is inside, and already dead, just waiting to be harvested for parts.

“Hey boss!” one team member calls out. “Check out this one.”

The boss - a muscled, stern but caring woman with short hair and scars from a lifetime of fighting - hurries over, followed by her teammates.

On the door of this particular cell, a piece of paper is taped up. The words are scribbled on in pen. There are bloody fingerprints where the writer held down the page to write.

It reads, Useless - Discard

“What the hell...” her stomach churns. What could possibly be inside that the humans deemed not even worth harvesting?

She slowly, cautiously opens the door. Two of her teammates flank her on either side, lanterns raised to see better in the dimly lit cell.

A chorus of gasps echoes in the empty space. Well, almost empty...

Something is suspended in the middle of the room, looking for a moment like an angel with its arms and wings spread wide in greeting...but it’s neither of those things. It’s just another unfortunate creature, and oh, what have they done to it...

For it isn’t suspended with rope, that would seem merciful compared to this. No, it’s something much worse. The leader steps closer and her breath catches in her throat when her worst suspicion is confirmed.

The pitiful creature is held up only by barbed wire.

The wire runs down from a bar on the ceiling. It wraps first around each of the creature’s small, feathered wings, holding them spread wide, the pale feathers stained dark with blood, some fresh, some dry. It continues to his fragile wrists, wrapped tightly several times, digging in to create deep wounds before traveling up each slender arm.

The wire continues down the creature’s whole body - wrapped around its neck like a collar, around its emaciated torso, its hips, then down around both legs, binding them together, and then finally wound several more times around its ankles.

Barbs cruelly pierce the pale, fragile skin all over. Thin rivulets of blood trickle down its body like raindrops on a window pane. There’s a slow drip...drip..drip...of blood from the tip of the creature’s toe, forming a puddle on the ground.

The creature is small - thin and frail, probably not even four feet tall. Its wings are small, too, much too small to fly.

Its head is slumped forward, the only part of it not restrained. Messy hair covers its face; the leader brushes it aside to reveal tear-stained cheeks and chapped lips.

“It hasn’t been dead long,” she says, voice choked with emotion. For all the horrors she’s seen, somethings still move her. This poor little creature - deemed useless by its captors - made to suffer like this for no reason, no reason at all.

“Poor thing,” one teammate says, reaching out to pet one of the wings.

The wing twitches under the touch, and the group all go silent and still, staring at the creature. At its chest, which now that they’re paying attention, they can see rises and falls, so, so slightly. Barely at all. But enough.

The same teammate who pet the wing reaches up and gently presses two fingers to the creature’s pulse point, just above where wire circles its neck. He recoils in horror.

“Oh god - it’s alive!”

----

To be continued??? If anyone wants???

[voiceoffenrisulfr]

On The Tide Masterlist

Bucky Barnes, but make it ‘Environmental Activist AU’. And also queer. Always queer.

Chapter One - “We are like islands in the sea, separate on the surface but connected on the deep.” Trans!Bucky – known here as Winter, because everything links back to Multitudes, okay? It started it all – gets a job fighting for the innocents of the ocean – and seems to be of particular irritation and interest to his new Captain.

Chapter Two - “The heart of man is very much like the sea, it has its storms, it has its tides and in its depths it has its pearls too.” Winter's true nature is revealed, the Captain finds him a hinderance and an optimistic bastard, but the sailor’s rough exterior is stripped  away a little. CW: Vomiting (seasickness), surgery mentions, historical physical trauma mentions

Chapter Three - “We ourselves feel what we are doing is just a drop in the ocean. But the ocean would be less because of that missing drop.” The Captain is a reluctant caretaker, looking after a needy newbie who is under the weather and desperate for affection and comfort. CW: brief discussion of traumatic, historical injury; sickness (non-vomiting).

Chapter Four - “The sea, once it casts its spell, holds one in its net of wonder forever.” Winter gets in an altercation for his ‘laziness’, and his Captain comes to his defence. CW: Implied risk of violence

Chapter Five - “The cure for anything is salt water: sweat, tears, or the sea.” Winter almost makes a dire mistake, and Lieutenant Tyne shows exactly why he’s the Captain. CW: Threat to life, drowning, loss of consciousness, vomiting (seawater), firearms and GSWs, sharks, shark finning practices.

Chapter Six - “There’s nothing more beautiful than the way the ocean refuses to stop kissing the shoreline, no matter how many times it’s sent away.” Things are tense after the accidental kiss, and Lieutenant Tyne learns more about his newest recruit. CW: Mentions of homophobia and criminalisation of homosexuality, vague references to theoretical SA.

Chapter Seven - “A smooth sea never made a skilled sailor.” The ship prepares to dock for repairs, and the crew reduces by one. CW: homophobia, transphobia, mentions of institutional homophobia and the death penalty.

Chapter Eight - “The Sea is a Desert of Waves, a Wilderness of Water.” A friendly face is found in the back alleys of an Indonesian town, and Win's safety is compromised. CW; Discussions of finning and endangered animal trade. Implied drugging, implied kidnapping/ransom.

Chapter Nine - "The sea is emotion incarnate. It loves, hates, and weeps. It defies all attempts to capture it with words and rejects all shackles." Winter’s captors reveal their true intentions. CW (contains spoilers!); Kidnapping, torture, physical abuse, slave sale, non-con virginity auction.

Chapter Ten - “The sea has never been friendly to man. At most it has been the accomplice of human restlessness.” Winter, Greg and Neri do what they do best, with both expected and unexpected results. CW (contains spoilers!); Dead body, canon-typical violence, gun use, graphic violence, risk of MCD, implied sexual violence, human trafficking references.

Chapter Eleven - "Every Time I Slip Into the Ocean, it's Like Going Home." The boys live with the after-effects of the kidnapping, and how to move forward… Together. CW: Discussion of gunshot wounds and captivity, non-graphic medical care, smut, AAAALLLL the smut. Full smut warnings in prompts.

Chapter Twelve - "If You Want to Know How Much I Love You, Count All the Waves in the Sea." It's the final chapter ;-; Everyone's favourite Pretty Ship Boys celebrate their freedom. CW: Smut, in varying degrees of BDSM-ish-ness.

[voiceoffenrisulfr]

Becoming Spider-Man Masterlist

Welcome to our intense daydream/series of loosely sequential one-shots about what would happen if Peter Parker were a trans guy, inspired by rileys_cosplay on TikTok. The initial chapter comes from an interpretation of one of their videos – hope you enjoy it! (T)

Divider by @sweetmelodygraphics!

Chapter One - Penny Parker's New Suit Penny Parker comes out of the closet and into a new suit. Set immediately following Civil War. Mostly non-AU, aside from the obvious transness and uncharacteristic behaviour (every good story needs an antagonist, after all).

Chapter Two - Peter Parker Gets a Haircut The one in which Peter needs a haircut, and Tony hits a steep learning curve. CW: Transphobic abuse, neglect, physical violence.

Chapter Three - Peter Parker Signs Some Papers The one in which Peter signs some papers, and Tony has to talk about Feelings. CW: References to a shitty guardian, but nothing specific.

Chapter Four - Peter Parker is not a Morning Person The one in which Peter is not a morning person, and Tony is.

Chapter Five - Peter Parker Has Needs In which Peter needs things, and Tony realises his privilege.

Chapter Six - Peter Parker is in Trouble In which Peter gets called to the principal's office, and Tony takes his first faltering steps into fatherhood.

Chapter Seven - Peter Parker Makes a Move In which Peter Parker has to move out, and Tony doesn't know how to deal with his Feelings.

Chapter Eight - Peter Parker Meets the Team (Offically) In which Peter Parker tells everyone who he really is.

Chapter Nine - Peter Parker Has a Problem In which Peter's body does what it does, and Tony doesn't know how to help. CW: periods, brief mention of SH

Chapter Ten - Peter Parker Makes a Decision In which Peter has to make choices, and Tony is ready to help.

Chapter Eleven - Peter Parker Takes a Step In which Peter has an appointment, and Tony did some research. CW: Trans medical discussion; minor, hypothetical discussion of self-harm and suicide, but nothing particularly heavy.

Chapter Twelve- Peter Parker Sees the Future In which Tony has something to show him, and Peter assumes the worst. CW: Mild discussion of hypothetical illness.

Chapter Thirteen - Peter Parker Goes Away In which Peter disappears, and Tony loses everything. CW: The Snap.

Chapter Fourteen - Peter Parker Wakes Up In which Peter comes home, and Tony makes a choice. CW: Implied Major Character Death.

Chapter Fifteen (a) - Peter Parker Says Goodbye In which Peter has to start to heal, even if he doesn’t want to. CW: Major Character Death, suicidal ideation, historical SH, Grief.

Chapter Fifteen (b) - Peter Parker-Stark Says Hello In which Peter Parker-Stark finally gets to go home. CW: Major Character Injury, risk of MCD.