#graphic depictions of injuries

[thinking1bee]

You Haven't Failed Part 12

Requested by Anonymous

Pairings: Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Tags: Spidey!Reader, Venom!Reader, So Much Angst, Fluff, Established Relationship, Graphic Depictions of Injuries, Blood, Violence, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Smut

Everything Taglist: @ara-a-bird @alexawynters @sgm616

“Go, go, go!” Wanda screamed at Tony, urging him to go get help.

He tried to call multiple people, but so far, no one picked up. It was late at night, so it was natural that the Avengers slept with their phones off or silenced, and only a different kind of alarm could wake them up. That one would have to be activated by Fury. Venom snarled as Wanda tried to fight it back with her magic. Red wrapped around its body, but it was broken by a flap of its wings as it still charged towards them. Tony shot it with his repulsors. When Venom still didn’t slow down, he activated a panel in his back. Out of it came a gauntlet full of mini missiles.

“Sorry, kid,” he said sadly as he fired. The projectiles exploded on contact, and the alien screeched as its body warped around the blasts.

“Three minutes,” Tony promised as he looked at Wanda. She nodded and watched as he took off, his form disappearing into the compound in the distance.

She turned her attention back to you, to Venom. It stood up and rolled its shoulders. Smoke wafted from its body, but there wasn’t a scratch on it.

“Come on, Y/n!” she begged. “Fight it!”

Venom only laughed maliciously. “You have no idea how weak they were,” he began. Wanda clenched her jaw, her eyes narrowing furiously. “It was so easy to take them over. Their desperation. Their despair. They were drowning in it, and you were none the wiser!”

That made Wanda falter, her eyes widening at Venom’s words. She remembered what Osborn said to her. The symbiote feeds off the emotions of its host to bend them to its will. Is that what you harbored?

Venom cackled. “Love,” it spat, like the word itself was a disgusting thing to be uttered. “Such a useless human emotion. So weak. So distracting. It was almost too easy. Their love for you and their desire to never lose you again reeked of petty sentiment, but it was easy to use that against them, to let me take them over.”

Wanda thought back to the night you almost beat that prisoner to death, and the conversation that she had with you after. She remembered you telling her how it felt like you just got her back, even though she had been revived for years now. She thought that she understood, but maybe she didn’t comprehend just how deep this went for you. In all the times that she’s read your mind, not once did she see anything alluding to what Venom was saying. So, you either repressed this, or you hid it from her.

“детка…” she whispered sadly to herself.

“Did you know that they blamed themselves for your death?” Venom continued. Somehow, the monster managed to look incredulous, a nonexistent eyebrow quirking with disbelief at what it was about to say. “Their memories are interesting to say the least. There are fragments missing, holes where their memory had been too feeble to recall what happened to them. They harbor such great hate for themselves because of something that they were too weak to prevent. They genuinely thought that they could stop this Thanos.” It paused as it cackled. “Pathetic.”

Wanda couldn’t fight the tears that were gathering in her eyes. When she came back, the team had warned her of the changes in you and she didn’t think too much of it. It wasn’t like she didn’t care because Wanda cared about you and for you greatly. It was that everyone went through changes after the initial loss to Thanos. No one was the same. Even her. In her mind, she was going to accept you no matter what. The thing was that you were your usual self with the same sunny disposition that she fell in love with. When she came back, you had been protective at first, extremely protective, but she understood. If it had been you, Wanda wouldn’t have let you out of her sight and she reassured you as many times as it took to make you believe that she wasn’t going anywhere. Yes, there were changes, and she prepared herself to face them with you, but she didn’t know of your emotional turmoil. Hearing it was breaking her heart but hearing it from the symbiote made her feel as though she wasn’t attentive enough towards you. You hardly spoke about what happened after the snap, and while she did ask, you only told her that you couldn’t remember. Wanda didn’t want to pry, and she respected your answer all the same, but to know this was how you felt…hot tears trailed down her cheeks.

She needed to get you free from this thing.

Wanda wiped her eyes and took a steadying breath. She must control her emotions. She watched as the magic in her palms fluctuated wildly and she willed the energy inside of her to calm. There was a fine line, and crossing it meant accidently killing you. When Venom saw her ready herself, it cackled some more.

“Removing them from me at this point will kill them.”

Wanda shrugged. She knew what Osborn said. “They’re dead either way. If they stay there, they’re dead. If I remove them, they’re dead. At least with them removed, you won’t have a body to puppeteer.”

At that, Venom bristled, the smile slowly leaving its face. They said nothing more to each other, and Wanda watched Venom closely for any signs of movement. When she saw its wing twitch, she extended her arms, and with a yell of exertion, shot a thick column of red magic its way. It was wide, with the attack taking up the entire street. It wouldn’t be able to dodge it in time, so Venom used its wings as a protective shield. They folded in front of its body and flattened just as Wanda’s attack hit. Her red magic cut through, and Venom screeched in pain as her energy seared its black flesh. When the dust settled, she saw that Venom was still standing with half of its body missing, but what should have been empty space and scorched tissue were your limbs. Wanda could see your arm and leg right as Venom began to cover it in its own flesh, the damage healing as it regenerated. You weren’t gone yet and that was great news.

A loud crack of thunder made her jump, and she watched as Venom was struck by a thick bolt of lightning. Thor landed right beside her with a grunt. Tiny crackles of electricity surrounded his body as his eyes glowed a deep blue. He stood up with his Stormbreaker in his hands, but other than that, he donned nothing else besides a pair of boxers that said “Thunder” on one ass cheek and “Daddy” on the other. Wanda stared at him, her arms lowering.

“There was no time for clothes, Lady Wanda,” he said valiantly. “We need to get Y/n back.”

Wanda nodded and watched as Tony landed beside her.

“Was there only Thor?” Wanda asked him and Tony shook his head.

Right on cue, everyone heard a roar, and seconds later, a flash of green passed her peripheral vision before it landed on top of Venom. Bruce. He was quick as he snatched the alien by its ankle and smashed it repeatedly into the ground. Venom snarled, its arms flailing as it was smashed into the street hard enough to leave craters behind.

“Everyone is gone or out,” Tony told her. It was okay. They could do this together.

Venom began to stretch, its body thinning as it wrapped itself around Bruce’s arm. Bruce roared, but Venom was faster. It reached out with the top half of its body and dug its arms into the street to anchor itself. Then, it twisted, and Wanda watched as Bruce was momentarily handled like a rag doll. Venom was able to throw him several feet away, and everyone had to dodge his body before they were crushed. Venom spread its wings and screeched before it took to the skies. Tony, Wanda, and Thor followed it as they continued to fight. Tony kept shooting it with the small armory that his Iron-Man suit was modified with. Thor shot more arcs of lightning. Wanda used her magic, but she realized relatively quickly that their efforts weren’t getting them anywhere. Venom was absorbing their attacks and healing any damage made. Tony realized it too when he joined their side.

“Wanda, I don’t have any more of those devices or else we could use the sound to incapacitate this damn thing.”

Wanda took a deep breath and looked at him. “Get Venom to the ground. I’ll take care of the  rest.”

Tony nodded and left her side. He shot more blasts while Thor struck Venom with more lightning, but ultimately, it was Bruce that was able to get to the symbiote. He jumped into the air and snatched Venom right out of the sky. His hands crushed its wings, and Venom shrieked in pain as it thrashed in his grip. Brice twirled in the air to gain momentum before he threw Venom as hard as he could towards the ground. It shocked Wanda to hear a boom in the air, the sound barrier breaking before the ground cratered and quaked from the force of impact. Venom was slower to recover from this attack. Wanda watched as it tried to crawl from out of the crater only to collapse a second later. She took that as her chance, her fingers fluttering as red magic wrapped around the body it stole. She forced Venom upright and to its knees, and she restrained its arms to the street just slightly behind it, a thick column of red around the appendages. It tried to struggle but Wanda wasn’t going to let it go again. She regarded it with extreme fury in her eyes, the red shining brighter in them than anyone had ever seen before. She approached, her hand clenched into a fist, and as she got closer, Venom laughed.

“You won’t kill me, not with Y/n’s life on the line. Be reasonable,” it challenged. It continued to laugh, but that laughter died as Wanda conjured a very large, translucent bell. It was outlined in red from her magic, and it hovered just right beside her open hand as it rippled with power.

All Wanda needed to know was the volume and frequency of the noise she would need to create, and she now knew it because of Tony. Venom now looked at her nervously, its gaze shifting between her and the bell. She didn’t say anything at first. Her face was hardened into stone as she stared with steely eyes.

“Killing you is a mercy you cannot afford. You will realize, within the next few minutes, that what happens next, is me being reasonable,” she murmured in an unyielding voice.

Before Venom could retort, Wanda waved her hand, and the bell began to ring. The reaction was immediate. Venom screeched, and like last time, its body contorted in an effort to get away. Wanda tightened the restraints around its body as she continued to ring the bell. It swung from side to side heavily, just like a real one. The sound it emitted was loud enough to hurt her own ears, but she didn’t care. She couldn’t hear your voice, and she couldn’t see your pain, therefore, there was no reason to hold back.

“Come on, Y/n!” she yelled. She watched emotionlessly as Venom writhed, but despite the pain it felt, it was still able to speak.

“It’s too late!” it managed to spit out. “You’ve already lost them!”

Wanda faltered for a heartbeat, its words making her waver, but in that split moment, she understood. She was going about this the wrong way. So, as she kept ringing the bell, she changed tactics.

“You’re going to lose me, Y/n!” she screamed, the bell ringing louder and louder. “If you don’t fight, you’re going to lose me! You need to wake up!”

Tony, Thor, and Bruce all watched, their faces solemn and sad when they didn’t see any changes.

“Y/n, детка! I know you can hear me! If you don’t do anything, baby, you’re going to lose me! You’re going to lose us!”

Venom was already screeching in agony, but Wanda watched as its mouth began to open impossibly wider. It was like something unhinged its jaw, and half of its head began to unravel, the black tissue falling away to reveal a part of your face. Wanda watched with bated breath as you weakly opened your eye, and you looked around before your blurry gaze fell on her.

“Baby.” This was much quieter, gentler. “Please,” she begged, her bright red eyes filling with tears that spilled over. “Fight it.”

Instantly, your face crumbled, and a tired sob left your lips. “I can’t. I can’t.”

If Wanda thought you pale before, you looked ghostly now. “Let me help you, детка.” She wrapped more magic around Venom to keep it right where it was. “Let me in.”

More cries left you as you felt Wanda cup your cheek with a strong hand, her forehead leaning against yours as you felt her in your mind. You let her in. You let her see the parts of you that you never wanted her to see.

Part 13

[sissytobitch10seconds]

Febuwhump 3: Loss of Life and Limb

Fandom: Grishaverse: Six of Crows and Shadow and Bone Summary: Nina thought that she wanted to be a healer, she really did. Turns out that actual injuries from war are far more gruesome than any textbook ever explained. Warnings: WWII AU, mentions of war, graphic descriptions of injuries, implied character death, minor character death, and inhumane medical conditions Word Count: 1,504 Ship(s): Nina Zenik/Matthias Helvar

Archive link!

She flinched back into herself as she heard another massive shell go off a few meters away from the tent. She hated that the Germans had once again managed to surpass them in terms of technology, that England and America weren’t keeping up their end of the bargain to provide them with ways to protect themselves. She hated the fact that she had gone to school to be a nurse and had ended up dumped into an active warzone where she was performing life-saving surgeries in the middle of a mud pit with people screaming outside the canvas. Most of all, she hated that she couldn’t save them all.

Her thoughts barely had a time to settle in her head so they mostly focused on repeating themselves over and over again. She rushed through the tent so that she could get more of the bandages and the dull garrot that they had been using to cut off the circulation of soldiers that had massive wounds. The items refused to stay still in her quivering hands but she couldn’t bring herself to care.

She rushed back to the bed where she had been working. She put the items down on the cot behind her, though that wouldn't last for very long. Some of the other nurses that didn’t have a patients would be coming to clear the body away when they had the time. She had to focus on the boy that was laying in front of her, blood dripping down the edge of the cot.

“What’s your name, love?” she asked as she readied her supplies. She didn’t have time to wash her hands with soap, not when she could hear another round of ammunition dropping on the battlefield outside. She settled for lathering them with a thick, heavy alcohol that would hopefully kill all the germs on her hands.

“Jesper,” he grunted. He tried to push himself up on shaking forearms, his eyes already darting towards the open flap of the tent. 

That was her least favorite part of this. At least when she was working in the hospitals that were far too packed with civilians and war casualties she had the ability to lock the doors to stop her patients from wandering away. The first week that she had been out on the field, she had managed to actually lose her patient. “Oh, no you don’t!” she snapped as she pushed him back onto the bed. “You have a nasty wound on your leg, I’m not going to let you wander into the war just because you know people on that field. We all do.”

“My friends are out there!” he squawked, indignant and heady with the adrenaline from his wound.

“I know,” she snapped as she pressed him down into the bed with one hand. Her eyes flicked up as she saw another cot being carried into the medical tent. It was something that happened often when they were engaged in battle. People got injured, they had to come somewhere when they had lost too much blood to fight. They came to her and the other nurses so that they could try and stabilize them before they were sent off to whatever poor village hospital had to try and fit all of them in.

She felt her heart stop in her chest when she saw who it was. She would have been able to recognize the head full of blond hair cut to short military length, the shoulders so broad and muscular that they could hold even her girth, and the face so grizzled with loss that it was a travesty not to dwell upon it anywhere. She knew immediately who she was looking at even though she wished that she did not. “Matthias!” she shouted before she realized that it was the wrong thing to do.

“Matthias is in here?” Jesper asked, trying to push himself off the bed again.

His near-escape was enough to break herself from her thoughts. She turned back to him and pressed him onto the cot with one of her hands. She let herself be divided between the other side of the tent where her husband was being tended to and the patient in front of her. 

She knew a lot of the soldiers that were serving with the Allies, but none of them were as sacred to her as the man that they had just brought in. She had traveled all over the world while she tried to figure out what she was going to do, experiencing the life, language, and culture of all others. She had adored it even more when she was sharing the experiences with someone of that country, which was where Matthias had come in. The two of them had met when they were assigned to work together with a married couple during a tour of the countryside. He had apparently only gone on it in the hopes of seeing his old family farm, but had ended up with someone he was nothing like. They had argued and bickered for the first half before they eventually determined that was stupid. After that, they had fallen head over heels for each other. They had only married when they learned that he was going to be drafted, before Nina had even decided to become a nurse so that she could be closer to him and help with the war effort.

He was being tended to by some of the other doctors, people that she knew that she could trust even with her husband. She had to focus on the boy in front of her instead of thinking with the aching, gaping black hole that had opened in her stomach. Nina couldn’t think about losing her husband in the mess that she had fallen into. She had to try and save at least one of the Godforsaken children that had been sent to the frontlines.

“Bite down on this,” she instructed as she placed a clean rag into the mouth of the soldier. They were hard to come by in the mud-slick fields that the tent had been set up in but they tried to make sure that their soldiers weren’t also suffering from a stomach ailment along with whatever injury they had picked up while fighting.

“What?” Jesper grumbled around the rag that she had placed into his mouth.

Nina paid him no mind as she wrapped the garrot around his leg as tightly as it would go and then placed both of the wooden handles into one hand. She grabbed the bottle of alcohol that she had used to sterilize her hands and then dumped it down onto his wound so that she could clean out some of the grime. Just as she had suspected that he would, he let out a shrill scream into the cloth in his mouth and seized forward.

“I know, I know,” she immediately soothed. “You’re going to be okay.”

They were words that she had spoken a million times before and likely would have to speak a million times over. None of them ever felt like they would come to fruition, it didn’t feel like any of them were going to be okay. Their entire lives, the futures that were promised to them, had been ripped away by people that didn’t even know them. They would never have what they were assured they would get.

She reached for some of the things that she had brought over. She placed the bandages down between his legs and then settled her hands on either side of the break. She forced the bones back to where they were supposed to be, which caused Jesper to release another earth-shattering scream into his rag. She was so glad that she had learned to use the gag so that her patients weren’t biting down on their tongues when she had to set bones or sew skin.

She tilted her head up just in time to see the medic that had been working on Matthias pause. He switched out with another person, who began to plunge their fingers deep down into his chest so that they could find the bullet. While he was doing that, the first one that had been working on him sprang around to the other side so that he could pump the blond’s chest.

She couldn’t let herself think about what that meant, not when she was meant to be saving the life of someone else. She grabbed the ball of surgical sutures and then worked to get the wound closed now that his leg was back where it was meant to be. She paid no attention to the tears dripping down her face at the background idea that she could be losing her husband. This war had already cost her her parents, her mentor, and numerous other people that she had cherished. She wasn’t sure what she would do if it ripped out her heart and left her with nothing but the bleakness of an unknown future.

[achenetype]

Hihi can you please do a Luke x reader where it’s basically an unrequited love like reader is so in love with Luke and he has no idea so she moves on and years later she’s over him and confesses to him like a oh I thought you should know and the whole time Luke had been in love with her, kinda base it off that one TikTok audio where it’s like “I’m not in love with you anymore” “I never knew you were” 🩷🩷

OHH YOURE FEEDING MY ANGST BRAIN WITH THIS ONE. buckle up lets break some hearts

edit: this ended up being WAY sadder than i originally intended. i am so sorry anon oh my god

i gave you a rare gift (but you didn't want it) — luke castellan

pairing: luke castellan x fem!reader

word count: 2.8k

content: angst, major character/reader death, unrequited love, mutual pining, reader is part of kronos' army, luke and reader are doomed by the narrative, [Y/N] used (sparingly), alcohol mention, description of injury

listening to: bloodfest (from mizumono) by brian reitzell

You are twenty-two years old, sitting on the rocky beach of a lake somewhere in the forests of upstate New York. Light, gentle fog hangs in the air around you, and the only sound is the tap-tap-tap of Luke skipping rocks across the water.

Come dawn, the world will burn. The gods will be dethroned. Every demigod will either be free, or dead.

But now, at midnight, you are twenty-three and Luke turns to you. He's holding a small, squashed cupcake in one hand. "Happy birthday," he says, "to my right-hand man." He pauses. "Woman. Right-hand woman."

He holds the pastry out to you and smiles, but something behind his eyes is empty. Hollow. He hadn't been sleeping recently. As much as he tried to hide it, he couldn't stop you from seeing when he came to you every morning for a cup of coffee and to debrief for the day.

Perks of being the revolution leader's best friend, you think. His right-hand woman.

Luke's eyes flick from the cake to your face. "Do you like it?" He asks, and for a split second, you swear there's a note of hope in his voice. "I wanted to do something, y'know," he says. "Twenty-three is huge. It's a monumental age."

You nod, but stay quiet.

He pauses for a second. "You remember how you always said you wished you never had a birthday?"

When you were twelve, nearly thirteen, your mother drove you across the country to go to summer camp.

"It'll be like a road trip," she said, tossing your duffel bag into the back seat of her battered car. "And then, hey, you'll only stay at camp until the end of August, and then you can come back and go to school. See all your friends again." She squeezed your shoulder and pushed the car door closed. "How about that?"

"Sure," you said. "Super fun."

And it was; you were actually kind of excited. You'd never been to New York. It seemed a million universes away.

And it was your birthday tomorrow. Maybe this was a gift, something that your mother had put together to make up for the years of being too tired and too drunk to make a cake, or get presents, or anything.

Your mother put her hands on her hips and sighed. "You know how I feel about the attitude, yeah? Let's not do this today."

"I wasn't even trying to—" You cut off as your mother glared at you, her face tense. You knew that look: the biting-the-inside-of-her-cheek, trying-to-be-understanding, trying-to-be-a-good-mom-despite-it-all look.

You hated that look.

"Just..." She sighed. "Just get in the damn car, [Y/N]."

You did, fighting back the tears building in the corners of your eyes, and the slam of the car door closing was as loud as thunder.

Twenty silent minutes of city streets and highway merge ramps and cold, empty stretches of asphalt and concrete passed before either of you spoke.

"Mom," you said, thirty-three seconds into minute twenty-one, "I'm sorry for talking back earlier." Your voice was quiet, shaking, cupped in your throat like a scared animal.

She didn't answer, keeping her eyes fixed on the road.

"I don't like being like this, Mom," you said, looking over at her. The silhouette of her through the driver's side window, backlit by the streetlights, was shapeless. Impassive. "I don't like doing this with you all the time."

She scoffed.

You pulled your legs to your chest, tucking your head between your knees, and tried to find sleep.

You weren't sure how long you slept, but you woke up to the sound of music playing softly over the speakers. Exit signs whizzed past you at what felt like breakneck speed. You wondered, briefly, if you would break your neck if you jumped out of the car right now.

Ultimately you decided against it. You didn't want your mother's last words to you to be, get in the damn car.

That would make her feel guilty, you thought, and that guilt would make her hate me even more.

"I don't wanna fight," you tried instead, picking at a loose thread in the cuff of your jacket sleeve. "Mom, I'm sorry, okay? I don't want us to be mad at each other anymore," you said. A sob caught in your throat, heavy and wet and choking.

Your mother sighed and reached one hand from the wheel to tuck your hair behind your ear. "I know you don't, sweetie," she said. "I don't want to be mad at you either."

"Then why do you do it," you asked.

When she turned to look at you, her eyes were wet. She smiled, or tried to. "Sometimes, certain people just…can't help but fight," she said. "It's just part of who we are, I think."

"Did you fight with Dad?"

Your mother inhaled, quick and sharp through her nose, as she flicked the turn signal to right and guided the car down the exit ramp from the highway, her eyes locked ahead. "Yes," she said. "Sometimes. Sometimes I think that's where we get it."

You swallowed. "Do you ever miss him?"

She doesn't peel her gaze away from the road. "Every day."

The two of you made your way through bustling streets and across too many bridges to count. You thought you fell asleep again, for a minute or maybe a year. Maybe it was all a dream.

"Mom," you asked as she turned onto a worn dirt road, the sunrise barely stretching over the horizon, "why are you bringing me here?"

She didn't answer for a moment. Two moments, then three. Through the leaves, you saw one tree standing impossibly tall. A pine tree.

Your mother parked the car and turned to you. "Because I don't know what to do with you, [Y/N]," she said. "I don't know how I can keep you," she paused, "safe. How I could do this, on my own, in any normal way."

She got out of the car and grabbed your bag, shoving it against your chest. "Camp is just up that hill there," she said, gesturing in the direction of the large tree you'd seen earlier. "They’ve got people up there waiting for you."

"Mom," you said. "Wait, I—I wanted to talk to you—"

She shook her head. "I can't come with you, sweetie." She smiled, the curve of her mouth falling just short of her eyes. "You just remember that I love you, okay?"

At that moment, you knew: she was going to leave you here.

“No,” you said, tears rolling down your face. “No, no—Mom. Mom, please.”

“Before you go,” she said, her voice tight and sharp, “I wanted to give you this.” She reached into the back seat and pulled out a jacket, worn leather with patched elbows. “It was mine in college,” she explained, not meeting your eyes. Like she was reading from a play or book, and you were the unfortunate audience. “I figure, it doesn’t fit me anymore.” 

She pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Happy birthday, baby.”

It was the first time you had ever felt like your mother loved you. You knew she liked you, sometimes. But you were never quite sure if she loved you until that moment. 

And then she got back into the car with one final, teary nod. 

And you never saw her again.

“Yeah,” you tell Luke, shrugging. “I think I’ve got a pretty good reason, though.” Your lips curve into a smile.

He laughs and tilts his head. It’s a habit of his; he’ll say something and twist his neck just a fraction, narrow his eyes. A nervous tic that not even years of training and fighting and killing could stamp out.

You used to think about kissing his neck when he did it, but now you’re not sure whether you would know the difference between kissing and ripping his throat out. 

“True,” Luke concedes. You laugh, too, unrestrained and loud. “Gods, your sense of humor is dark.”

“You laughed first,” you remind him. He grins.

The cupcake he offers you, despite its lumps and smears of frosting, is pretty good. You split it apart with careful fingers and hand half of it back to him.

“You’re celebrating with me,” you laugh, “so you get half. That’s the rule.”

Luke simply smiles at you and takes the crumbling cake from your hand. “Whatever you say.”

You roll your eyes, grinning back. “Damn right.”

Luke’s laugh rings out again, sharp and bright against the night sky. Firelight flickers across his face, painting him in brilliant streaks of orange and gold. 

“After tomorrow,” Luke murmurs, pulling his knees up to his chest, “we can do this whenever we want.” The wind ruffles his hair almost fondly, floppy brown curls stirring and settling back against his skull.

You raise an eyebrow. “This?”

He gestures in a wide arc. “Be here, like this. Just be people, instead of demigods or heroes or revolutionaries.” Luke’s voice picks up, conviction surging into his words. “I mean, seriously—when was the last time you thought you would ever have a normal life?”

You’d never understood the demigods who joined Luke’s cause without knowing him. The plan itself seemed crazy—the only way anyone would follow it was if they knew their leader could pull it off. 

You have to know Luke to know he was capable of that, you think.

Until now. Now, you see what you think everyone else sees—a real leader, a revolutionary. A force for change with a silver tongue.

He makes it all seem so possible. You almost think he might pull it off.

Luke looks over to you. “We’re going to change everything,” he says. 

Almost.

“We’re going to change the rules,” Luke said, spreading the map over an empty cot in his cabin. “If we want to win, we need to be thinking six steps ahead of the enemy.”

A few of the campers huddled around the makeshift table shuffled and coughed awkwardly. 

“Every strategy’s been done before,” a tall girl with bubblegum-pink hair and an eyebrow piercing shouted from the back of the group. “How are we going to out-war the god of war’s kids?” 

Murmurs rushed around the table, soft and susurrant. There’s no way we’re going anywhere here. We’ve gotten our asses beat six weeks in a row. What are we even doing?

Luke smiled. “Ares is the god of war,” he said, “not strategy.” He slung his arm around one of the campers next to him and inclined his head in the direction of the map.

Quietly, almost too quiet for you to hear, he murmured into the girl’s ear. “Don’t doubt yourself, Bethy,” he whispered.

You learned three things in the ten minutes that she spent explaining your team’s new strategy—

—one, your team was going to kick some major ass—

—two, your strategist’s name was Annabeth Chase, and she was the smartest eight-year-old you have ever met—

—and three, Luke was right.

Annabeth’s plan took the rules of Capture the Flag and threw them out the window. She split the team into four subgroups, each with a delegated leader. Luke nodded along as she talked, marking the map with a stubby pencil. 

When Annabeth’s eyes, dark and piercing, searched the crowd and landed on you, you felt your heart stop.

“You,” she said, “are you good with a sword?”

You raised your eyebrow, pointing to yourself—just to confirm this genius child was speaking to you—and Annabeth nodded. 

“I guess?” You said, shrugging. “I know some basic stuff, and I’m good at disarming.”

Annabeth’s face broke into a smile. “Work with Luke on the first wave of offense.” She gestured to the map. “You two will take points B and B-one,” she explained. “My group will take the A-points. You wait for our signal to move in.”

You met Luke’s eyes across the table. Hey, you mouthed. 

His eyes flicked up and down your form. Hey, he mouthed back. You ready to win?

You smiled and nodded.

Good, Luke said, all teeth. Let’s go.

He stood and grabbed his helmet. You did the same.

“I’m [Y/N],” you said as you followed Luke through the forest. “We, uh—we met when I first got here, like, a year ago.” I was sobbing my eyes out because my mother abandoned me, you didn’t add. It was kind of pathetic. I think I threw up from crying so hard.

You suddenly hoped Luke didn’t remember meeting you, actually. That would be less embarrassing.

He turned and caught your eye. “You live in the same cabin as me. ‘Course I know you.” 

Of course he remembers.

You laughed, flushing red. “Oh. Yeah. Of course.”

The silence was so thick, you could have cut it with the sleek bronze of your sword.

In the end, it was Luke who broke the silence. “You wanna play a game while we wait out here?”

You shrugged. “Sure,” you said. 

“Twenty questions,” Luke replied. “So we can learn enough about each other to actually work together.” He smiled. “What’s your favorite color?”

“Low-hanging fruit,” you said, your voice just barely taking on a teasing tone. “It’s green.” 

Luke laughed, loud and full and bright. “Apologies,” he said; mirth crept into his words, staining everything with a tinge of that laughter. “I’ll go for the more gut-wrenching, intimate questions next time.”

You flushed red again. Intimate questions. What the hell does he mean by that?

“My turn,” you said instead. “What do you want to be when you get older?”

“We’ll be heroes,” Luke whispers. “Real heroes. Not figureheads propped up by the gods.”

You wish you could believe him. He’s lying on the beach next to you, his head resting in the junction between your shoulder and your neck. Over the treetops, the stars are beginning to fade from the sky.

It’s almost time.

Your throat feels like someone has sanded it down to expose your vocal cords. This is a bad idea, you want to say. We shouldn’t do this. Tell me we can still not do this. 

“Wanna play twenty questions?” You say, crackling and hoarse.

Luke turns to look at you. “Yeah,” he murmurs. 

“My turn first,” you whisper. Luke nods.

You take a deep breath, in and out. “Are we going to die doing this?”

Luke inhales sharply. “Maybe,” he says. Slowly. Deliberately. “But we’ll do everything we can to make sure we don’t.”

“I got another question,” you say. Luke raises an eyebrow. His knuckles brush yours as you sit up.

“Are you scared?”

It’s your birthday. 

You think you’re going to die. 

Luke is kneeling over you, the palm of his hand pressed against the wet opening in your stomach where someone had caught you with a spear. The shaft of it is still sticking out of you, you think. You’re afraid to look down, afraid to see it. 

“No,” Luke gasps, “no, no, no.”

You watch as the gold fades from his eye, leaving behind the honey-dark brown you remember. His hands are slick with blood—most of it’s probably yours, it has to be yours. You’re bleeding out, after all. 

You tug on Luke’s sleeve weakly. “Hey,” you breathe. “Luke. It’s okay, it’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”

“No,” he says. “You’re—you’re hurt.”

“I know,” you rasp. “I know it hurts. I’m the one—” 

You break off as a cough sticks in your throat. It feels wet. Oily. Desperate to get out. You taste the blood in the back of your throat before you can even take another breath.

“—I’m the one who’s feeling it,” you finish, your voice tilting up at the end. A joke. Gods, your sense of humor is dark.

Luke laughs weakly. “Don’t talk,” he says. “You’re gonna be just fine, [Y/N], just fine.”

He meets your eyes. You see him realize it in slow motion.

Tell him. Tell him now. He’s never going to know otherwise—he could die any minute—

“Luke,” you murmur. “Luke, did you know I loved you?”

He freezes. “What?”

You cough again. Blood spills over your lips. “I loved you,” you repeat. “Since we were campers. Had the…the biggest, stupidest crush on you.”

Luke shakes his head. “No, no,” he says. “You—”

“You’re my best friend,” you continue. “Whatever feelings were there, you’re my best friend.”

Luke’s palm against your stomach is warm. It feels safe. It feels like sleeping side-by-side in the cabin, like shared meals and shared secrets. 

“Why are you telling me this?” Luke says, “why are you—why?”

You blink, just once, but it takes everything you have to open your eyes again after closing them. “Because I’m going to die,” you whisper. “And even if—even though I moved on, I wanted you to…to know.”

Luke bows over your body, pressing his forehead to yours. Tears slip from his cheeks and fall onto yours, driving little rivers through the blood smeared there.

He’s crying. Why is he—

“You idiot,” Luke says brokenly. “I loved you too. I loved you too.” He cradles your head in his lap, brushing your hair away from your face. “[Y/N], I’m so sorry.”

Your eyes slip shut.

I loved you too, Luke’s voice echoes. I loved you too.

[aftgficrec]

My Personal Favorite Fics EVER!! All Neil/Andrew

I hope I am doing this right! I just hit the share button on my bookmarked fics. Idk if any of these have been on here before (I have read a lot of fics and it gets confusing to know which ones I found on here bc there are so many good recommendations, or ones I found on my own. But these are 3 of my favorite fics that I feel like are the most well done!

• Everything's Alright by DarkD: This fic is unfinished but so worth the read!! It is a soulmates au, and in it Neil and Andrew are looking out for eachother since they are 6 and 7 years old. It completely changes their dynamic but manages to keep the characters realistic. I love the direction it was going, I hope the author finishes it, but even if they don’t what they have written so far is worth the read.

• If I Knew You by AceSirenSinger: This fic is soooo amazing!! It was posed pretty recently (starting January 2024 and finishing in May) and It shows a different direction with Aaron and Andrew’s bonding, and different reasons for them having problems with each other. It features writer/author Andrew and Law Student turned police officer Aaron. The writing is so high quality and it is a completely finished fic!! The writing to show the writing of the book Andrew has written alone is impressive enough to get you to read it. I love it so much, it also gives a more realistic approach to Neil’s life and trauma as well as gives you more of a perspective on the problems of Aaron’s life. (Even tho it’s an au and doesn’t show his life during AFTG)

• Deep blue ( but you painted me golden ) by Jeaneil_22: This fic is not finished but completely captivated my attention when I saw it. I was surprised I had not read it before (because I am obsessed with Raven Neil fics, and this is one of them) but then I realized it was posted within the last year or so. It’s completely underrated. It does have a lot of hits but the kudos count not being in the thousands is a crime against humanity. The realistic take on. Neil’s trauma and different things going on as he is still connected very heavily to the Moriyama’s is sooo interesting. And if you are looking for a fic where Neil is a victim of SA/Rape this fic is also a good one for you. (Though it does have a lot of trauma so mind the tags) I know a lot of people are looking for fics like that tho and it’s hard to find bc there is so much SA trauma in AFTG 😔

Thanks for the recs and for sharing your thoughts on the fics! Readers, all of these stories lean toward the darkest themes of AFTG. -A

Everything's Alright by DarkD [Rated E, 182901 Words, Incomplete, Updated June 2023]

Previously recced here

Souls weren't meant to be left alone, so they split, always looking for their other half. No matter how long it took, the moment a soul existed, it sought the one that would complete it. The main indication is, when one of the halves of the soul turns seven years old, an identical mark appears on both parts. Along with that comes a set of unique abilities that soulmates can only use with each other—for protection, for finding each other. Soulmates would never be alone.

tw: graphic depictions of violence, tw: child abuse, tw: torture, tw: blood, tw: gun violence, tw: homophobia, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced csa, tw: murder, tw: canonical character death

If I Knew You by AceSirenSinger [Rated T, 43145 Words, Complete, 2024]

Previously featured in this long andreil + aaron angst ask, our staff recs writers post, and as a random rec

Neil is imprisoned at sixteen years old for being the Butcher of Baltimore. Andrew obsesses, and Aaron obsesses because Andrew does, and everything goes wrong and raw and painful. Feat. the twinyards breaking each other’s hearts, and a decent amount of shade on the American justice system.

tw: implied/referenced murder, tw: recreational drug use, tw: implied/referenced violence, tw: implied/referenced torture

​​Deep blue ( but you painted me golden ) by Jeaneil_22 [Rated M, 163298 Words, Incomplete, Updated Sept 2024]

After the horrific incident that happened in the nest and the sound of Kevin crying, Nathaneil made the hard call and bargained with his life to get Jean and Kevin out, having no slight idea about the storm that was heading his way And after being missing for two years, Jean and Kevin swallowed the hard truth that Nathaneil might be dead somewhere To their surprise one day he appears out of the blue looking so much like their brother but nothing like Nathaneil at all Or Nathniel went on the run with his mother when he was 9 years old but three years later Nathan caught up to them and threw Nathaneil in the nest So we can say some things went a bit different .

NB: playlist for this fic

tw: dark, tw: gang rape, tw: dubcon, tw: human trafficking, tw: graphic depictions of violence, tw: suicidal thoughts, tw: assault, tw: flashbacks, tw: panic attacks, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: abuse and torture, tw: implied/referenced csa, tw: medication addiction and withdrawal, tw: recreational drug use, tw: nonconsensual drug use, tw: vomit, tw: homophobia, tw: canonical character death

[bucketwritingpail]

Voice Crack Pt. 1

Prolouge

Adrenaline coursed through Danny’s veins as he made the mad dash to Wisconsin. Vlad had been right, they had turned on him. He could still hear the shrill whine of his mother’s blaster as she aimed it at his chest. He could see the tears in Val’s eyes as she told him to leave before she destroyed him.

Danny blinked away the memories, the tears they had brought getting lost to the wind and the rain.

His injuries were screaming at him, vying to make themselves known. Wisconsin never seemed so far away. A searing pain, like a fire lit against the skin of his abdomen, sent him careening into the trees below. Branches and twigs tore at him as he fell, each clawing for a chance to leave their own mark on the ghost boy, stopping only when the ground itself rose up to meet him.

And suddenly he didn’t feel the pain anymore. He knew he should. There was a pool of something warm and wet spreading out from beneath him, which definitely wasn’t good. It could just be the exhaustion mixed with the adrenaline. Right? Maybe he just maxxed out on pain and his brain decided to turn off the voicemail. Except all that was worse.

This wasn’t the first time he’d been hurt, he could fix this. His bag had landed a few feet away, if he could get to the first aid kit he could put himself back together enough to get to Vlad. He was sure of it. He would be okay. He always ended up okay.

No matter how much he stretched, how much he told his body to just get the hell up and grab the kit, he couldn’t. All he could do was lay there as the pool of liquid beneath got deeper and deeper. He was going to die here wasn’t he? For real this time. No more second chances. No more transforming in back alleys, no more going back to being alive. This time he would just be gone.

He should have listened to Vlad. Or at least told him what he was planning to do. He should have listened to Jazz, should have taken more precautions, should have had an actual plan. There were so many should have’s, so many thing he could have done differently. But instead he put his faith in the ghost hunting fanatics. The parents who had accepted him in almost every other timeline, and now he was bleeding out, alone, in the middle of the woods, unable to even sit up. Helpless to do anything but think about all the things he hadn’t done right.

Then a light broke through the black. Small at first but soon blinding in the dark and the rain and the trees. For a moment Danny thought it might be that white light everyone warns you not to go towards when you’re dying. Which was ridiculous in this situation, Danny couldn’t even sit up much less move towards something.

Then it started moving towards him, and he worried just a little bit more.

But then there was shouting too, as the light got brighter, and footsteps. And people. Maybe he wasn’t dying. Maybe he was saved. He let his eyes close as the relief washed over him. Someone had found him.

There were hands sliding around his limbs, then he was moving. The pain bloomed across his body with a new vigour. Their movements were sharp and jarring. What little air had been left in Danny’s lungs escaped with a painful gasp, and a bad feeling formed in his chest that screamed danger, but he dismissed it. He’d been found, he was safe.

They finally stopped in a bright area and Danny was set down on a hard surface, the back of his head hitting hard against it and lolling to the side. Then there was a prick in his arm. It was hardly noticeable through all the pain, but it felt like a… a needle.

That- why was there a needle?

Danny forced his eyes open, just to check. He was sure everything was fine. He was- he was safe now.

The men in white suits milled around in his vision just as something heavy clamped around his wrists.

He was not safe.

A grinning face leaned in close as Danny tried and failed to struggle free.

“Sleep well abomination, you’ve got a big day tomorrow,”

Danny woke slowly this time.

The gradual return of his senses brought alot of pain though. He couldn’t even count all the places that hurt. He was sweating bullets, his sheets soaked through. (huh, sheets, those were new.) ‘

He was still breathing, that at least was a good sign. He focused on keeping his lungs doing that and his eyes stuck shut as he took stock of his surroundings, he was in a new place, he had to be careful.

The ever present smell of antiseptic was potent, barely masked by the faint citrus scent he had picked up on last time he was awake. There was also a faint buzzing in the air, accompanied by the slow beeping of medical equipment. He could exactly where each line pierced his skin to connect him to the accursed things. He couldn't feel anyone watching him though, making this the perfect time to escape.

In an Instant, Danny’s eyes were open and he began the arduous task of removing each and every one of those needles and tubes. Ridding himself of whatever poison those bastards were pumping into him. There was a ridiculous amount of them, monitoring literally everything that could be monitored, like whoever had put them in didn’t even know what they were looking for. Idiots.

Once they were all off, Danny swung his legs over the side of the cot he’d been put on. (No straps either, must be more security measures than he could see. That or they were getting cocky. Danny hoped for cocky.) Sitting up so fast had caused a headache to bloom behind his eyes, but he pinched it back, it was just another pain to deal with later.

This room was sparse but still a lot better than any of the other GiW holding cells he’d been in. In fact, it was set up more like an ICU than a holding cell. A row of cots lined one wall, and shelves stocked to the brim with medical supplies on the other. It was… different. They usually just shoved him back in a dingy cell that hadn't been cleaned in months, after messing with him.

“You’re awake.”

The ectoplasm in Danny’s blood ran cold, his breath catching. He had been certain the room was empty. His back was to the door, so he couldn’t see whoever had spoken, but his mind was wiring almost as fast as his eyes darted around the room, searching for an exit, any chance of escape. He couldn’t get caught. Not now that he’d been seen up and moving, trying to get away.

The walls were probably coated with a ghost repellent, no chance of phasing through them. No vents either. The door behind him would be the only exit, but with it blocked fighting would be his only way out. Could he do that? Could he have the energy to actually get out. There was no doubt there were more agents. Getting past whoever was in the doorway would only be the start. Could he do that? Really?

Danny forced himself up onto wobbly legs. He could. Fighting was what he did best. He’d had two years of practice. He took a steadying breath ( It was a real testament to his nerves that he hardly felt it past his chest) and turned around, coming face to face with… a girl?

She looked about his age, but with a sandier, more monochrome complexion. Her eyes though, they were a piercing, icy blue. They cut into him, sharp, critical. Danny felt himself wobble a little under that unnerving stare, but the girl didn’t say anything, didn’t move even, just stared.

Danny took a shaky step back, then another, keeping his eyes on the girl the whole time. Every step was harder than the last, every breath was worse. Each pass of air rubbed at his throat, stinging like the biting wind during flight. Each movement was a battle against gravity to maintain balance and to lift his feet just enough to shuffle backwards. His feet dragging against the course concrete, the cold of it sending shivers up his spine.

A stray power chord was all it took to throw his hard won balance to the enemy, and he stumbled. The backs of his knees collided with something hard, and gravity, ever unsatisfied, took hold and brought him down.

Searing pain struck like lightning through his body, Stabbing pains where his skin pulled and twisted across his chest. Fire burnt deep in his muscles, the tense pressure all along his arms and legs, he swore he heard popping. It all hit him at once, shoving the air out of his lungs in one dizzying wave. He gasped for air but that hurt too.

“Are you alright?” The girl’s voice was much closer now. Danny opened his eyes (He hadn’t realized he had screwed them shut) to find her face mere inches from his.

He cried out, or he tried to. He felt the air pull from his haggard lungs. He felt it push through his throat, tearing and burning, but all he heard was a raspy hiss as he scrambled backwards over the cot he had fallen on, kicking out with both feet as he went. His first kick landed with a weak thump against something soft, the second sailed straight through the girl’s torso, sending a shiver through his whole body. Then he fell over the side of the cot, twisting violently and landing on his right shoulder, hard. He definitely heard popping this time as he rolled onto his hands and knees and scrambled away.

He heard her say something, but he wasn’t sure what. Probably an order to stop. Danny kept crawling. He wasn’t quite sure where he was going, he just wanted away. Preferably before reinforcements showed up.

He reached a corner and stopped. Two stone walls met seamlessly in front of him. The angle perfect and smooth, as if the room had been carved from the rock rather than built by it. Just like his parents’ lab. Just like the corner a much smaller Danny would tuck himself into while his parents worked.

This Danny wedged himself between the walls, tucking his knees up to his chin and his hands clasped behind his neck. He looked back. The girl was advancing on him, looking much less happy than before. Her form was blurring at the edges, particles swirling around her in an angry cloud, almost like smoke.

“Hey,” she said, voice tinted with a forced sounding sweetness to hide the rougher tone that sat just left of anger. Danny knew that tone, knew what it meant when people spoke to him like that.

We promise not to hurt you Danny.

We’re glad you're here Phantom, don’t worry it’s just a few tests.

I promise I won’t be angry, Daniel, just come here.

His body moved on instinct. He just grabbed and threw.

Whatever it was sailed right through the girl’s forehead.

There was a second when nothing happened, just silence. Then the cloud swirled faster and faster as she descended on him, filling the room in seconds. There was no more forced compassion. Her anger and indignity was almost tangible in the air. The overwhelming emotions pressing in on him as cold bursts of air tore themselves from his chest.

The girl was gone, but she was still there, swirling in the cloud as the pressure built and built. Danny clamped his hands over his ears and pulled himself into a tight ball. Hot tears ran down his face as he did everything he could to block it all out. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t- why did he think he could fight this. Fight them. It all ended the same. Always back on that table. Trying only made it worse. Why- Why -why whywhywhyw-

Then it stopped. The pressure in the room eased substantially, and it finally felt like he could breathe again.

“Robin!” the girl cried, her tone suddenly cheerier, “He won’t listen to me,” she whined, “I’m trying to help and he won’t let me!” there was a pause. Danny didn’t dare uncurl himself enough to see why.

“Secret…” Someone started

“What happened?” A slightly higher voice cut in. It was laced with a sort of clinical calm that set Danny’s nerves on edge.

The girl huffed, “Why are you mad at me? He’s the one that won”t let me help!” Danny flinched, he could feel the new eyes turn on him. He just wanted them gone. He wanted to be gone.

There was a deep measured sigh before the second voice spoke again. “We’re not mad at anyone,” they said in a carefully regulated tone, “I just need to know what happened so I can know how to handle this.” Handle? Was the owner of that voice his new handler? What happened to agent H? No, no it didn’t matter, he couldn’t go through anything like him again.

“Oh,” the girl said, “Well, he woke up again so I tried to talk to him, but then he, like, freaked out and attacked me. He’s not responding either.”

A hand grazed Danny’s back without warning, he threw himself forward and batted it away with a feral hiss. The hand pulled away and he shoved himself back into the corner.

“Did you fight him back?” the first voice asked. It was alot closer. Probably the owner of the hand.

“He attacked me.”

Someone sucked in a sharp breath.

“Thank you Secret, we’ll take it from here.”

“No problem Rob!” A few seconds passed before her presence was fully gone, leaving Danny alone with two unknowns. Not that three enemies was better than two.

What was her deal? She felt- well, she felt like a ghost. The way her emotion had felt so tangible in the air around her, that was unmistakably a Ghost Thing ™. But he’d never seen a ghost like her.Not only in the way she looked but also in the way she acted. Danny had definitely never heard of any right- minded ghost (Or as right-minded as any of them were) working with the GiW. What had they done to her?

Danny tensed as something was set down inches from his face.

“Hey.” The voice was a lot softer than it had just been. It was using that same tone. “Sorry about her, Secret isn’t too great with people yet.”

“Isn’t that an understatement,” the other voice snarked. Then there was a pause and a mumbled sorry.

“I’m Robin, and this is Superboy,” Superboy? The Justice League publicity stunt? What was he doing at a GiW facility? Danny loosened the tight knot he had curled into, just enough to peek at the two people kneeling in front of him. Sure enough, he recognised Superboy from TV. The Kryptonian was the one sitting closer to him. He looked more nervous than the other one. Robin, he had said, that name sounded familiar he just couldn’t put his finger on it.

“We’re here to help you in any way we can, okay?” the barest hint of a smile crossed Robin’s face. It was hard to tell if it was sinister or genuine. “We have water, if you would like it.”

Danny would be a liar if he didn’t admit how much he actually would like some. His throat was insurmountably dry which was only making breathing harder. A task that was getting more and more difficult by the minute. But that didn’t mean he could trust anything they gave him. It was probably drugged. That’s the only reason they would have to even offer. Afterall, ghosts didn’t need food or water, it was just a vanity for them. Or at least that’s what they would always say whenever he had begged for just a scrap.

Still, he couldn’t help but want.

The two were still watching him. And, well, they didn’t really look GiW. They were both dressed up in hero outfits. Superboy was obviously wearing his signature look with the jacket and the S crest. The other boy, though, was dressed like a traffic light. Yellow cape, green gloves and boots, and a red suit. Most of all though, they looked Danny’s age. What were they even doing here? This was all too bizarre to trust. Or… too bizarre to not trust?

Ancients, he was thirsty.

He risked breaking eye contact to let his eyes flicker over to the clear plastic cup they had placed in front of him. The liquid inside looked like water, but that was no guarantee. Slowly, he reached a hand out to snatch the cup. Neither of them flinched, just watched. The liquid was clear. Even with his senses dulled as they were, Danny’s were still better than most. There were no floating particles, no odd smells, no physical tells that this wasn’t just ordinary water.

He took a hesitant sip- a small one, just in case- and still nothing. It tasted like water, clean water, no dirt or minerals to hide the taste of the sedative. At least 80% sure that the water was just water, Danny downed the rest of the cup in one go, swiping the excess off of his parched lips with the back of his hand. The immediate relief on his throat was bliss, but he was still waiting for the other shoe to drop. There had to be a reason they had given him that.

Superboy took the cup and got up.

Where was he going? What was he doing with that cup? Had that just been a ploy to get his DNA? No that was ridiculous, if they wanted his DNA they would just cut him open and take it. But then why did he take the cup-

Then Superboy was back, the glass refilled. Oh.

Danny took the cup gingerly, eyeing the Kryptonian curiously.

“Can you tell us your name?” Danny’s eyes snapped back to Robin as he spoke. Strange. Shouldn’t they already know his name? Agent H had known his name, boasted about it even, used it against him. Were these people attempting an opposite approach? Pretending to be friendly to lure him into a false sense of security? That sounded like something they would do, but something about that thought felt wrong in an unexplainable way. Whether they were playing a game or not, though, his name, that was a powerful thing to give to people he didn’t know. They had given their names though. Obviously they were codenames, but still, that was more than he’d gotten from previous agents. They had never introduced themselves, Danny had had to learn their names by listening to conversations. So maybe…

“My..” name is Phantom, he said. Except, he didn’t. He choked on the first word, his voice was raspy and cracked and his throat felt weirdly full as he took a sip of water and tried again. “My-” It wasn’t even a whisper. His throat was burning as if set on fire. He was moving his lips, forming the words, but nothing was coming out. Even though he could feel the air moving through his throat. Robin only looked, disappointed? Sad? As he watched Danny struggle for his words.

Danny was only vaguely aware of his breathing getting faster and faster. Each breath bringing only more fire. His hands flew up to clutch at his throat, maybe to check it was okay, maybe to stifle the increasing speed, but there was something wrong. It felt wrong, it- One of his fingers slipped into a channel, feeling the ridges where his skin met with some rubbery material.

Ancients, there was a hole in his neck.

His lungs kept pulling in air at a rapidly increased rate. Why? He was a ghost, ghosts didn’t need oxygen. It was a non-necessity and all it did was hurt. He just- he needed it to stop.

“Hey, hey, breathe for me okay?” Robin said, trying to soothe him. Danny tried to look at him, but there was a light flickering just behind his head. It was just- on and off, on and off, again and again and again and again- Danny looked away. His gaze fell on Superboy. He was glaring at Robin.

“Here, try to match my breathing, okay? In for six, hold for three, out for six. Got it? Again.” Robin was demonstrating the technique, trying to get Danny to follow along. But Danny didn’t need to breathe, he needed to stop.

“It’s okay, you’re safe. We’re at Mount Justice, the old Justice League base. We rescued you on a mission. You sustained multiple injuries from your captors. Chiefly to your voice box, we had to install a laryngectomy tube so you could breathe, but you have to calm down before you damage it further.” If Robin thought that little infodump would calm him down, the dude seriously needed to work on his people skills.

It was only by some miracle that Danny managed to get it under control. He started by matching Robin’s pace, then slowing it down until he was hardly breathing at all. For some reason that seemed to worry them more than the hyperventilating. There really was no pleasing some people. He chugged the rest of the water to hopefully relieve his throat a little.

“Hey, hey, hey, you still need to breathe, okay? You can’t just stop.’’

“Back off Rob.”

“Not now Superboy, I know what I’m doing.”

“Yeah? Well I don’t think you do. Back off a little.”

Danny flinched away from the yelling, curling back into himself just a bit more. It would be nice if they could both leave, actually. Danny had a lot to process right now, and their bickering wasn’t helping. There was already so much noise, and their voices were getting louder, and that light was still flickering just at the corner of his vision. On and off and ON and OFF and ON AND OFF AND-

The door flew open with a loud bang, there was a streak of red and white light then-

“Morning! How are you feeling dude? These two bothering you? Are you hungry? Want a snack? I have Trail mix, Mars Bars, chips, fruit leather, and a granola bar. I just came form school though so they aren’t the good ones y’know? Just the gross high calorie ones that Max makes me carry around in case of emergencies. Actually- scratch that. You probably shouldn’t eat those unless you have, like, a suuuuper fast metabolism. They might, like, destroy your liver or something. That or give you the sugar high to end all sugar highs.” The boy was in Danny’s face before he had even had time to process his arrival. A buzzing started in his ears, getting louder and louder as the boy talked, his fire engine red hair bouncing with each wide gesture he made.

Danny pressed himself further against the wall, willing his body to just go through it already. Anything to get him away from all this.

The buzzing sound hitched, then something lurched in Danny’s chest, and suddenly he was falling. Falling through the cold stone and away from the noise.

He landed in what looked like a supply closet, amongst seemingly endless rows of dusty shelves and unopened cardboard boxes. It was dark, though, and the floor was cold, the chill was grounding. The buzzing had stopped, leaving him in total silence. It was nice. He almost didn’t want to try standing or leaving. Maybe he could just stay here for a bit.

He crawled under the nearest shelf and curled up with his back pressed against a heavy crate.He shivered as his exposed skin made contact with the frigid stone. The only thing separating him from the floor was the thin hospital gown he had been changed into at some point. The front was soaked with blood and ectoplasm, which were probably the stitches he’d popped earlier. He pulled at the fabric a bit to see if that was a now problem or a later problem. He settled on later. Just the thought of getting up now made him feel nauseous.

Which meant he probably wasn’t escaping anytime soon. Even with the new knowledge that walls were not, in fact, ghost proofed, if he didn’t even have the energy to sit up and look through a few boxes, then he definitely didn’t have the energy to phase himself out of the- Robin had said they were in a mountain? Yeah, that wasn’t happening. He couldn’t even feel the ectoplasm under his skin, the ever-present, comforting hum wasn’t in his chest anymore. That buzzing had been the closest thing he’d felt to it since that third week when they had started the operations.

One hand found its way to his neck, bare fingers ghosting over the uneven ridges left behind by careless stitches. He could still smell the rubber, feel the sting of the antiseptic, see the leering grin on his face as they poked around his chest cavity, knowing just where to squeeze to force a scream.

He shook his head to dislodge the memory. Ancients, Ancients help him.

—------

He woke up later, back in the cot. The lines were returned to his arms and face. The light was still flickering. There were no people.

There was a glass of water set on the side table, next to a note.

‘We’re sorry. You are safe here. We promise.’

Danny didn’t know what to believe anymore. He crushed the paper into a ball, and threw it away.

Ahhhh, i know its been literal months since i posted the og part, but ive been working really hard on this and i finally think im ready to post it? Maybe? It will not be a quick update schedule bevause im always changing things, but i hope you all like it.

[aziraphales-library]

Hi! I love this blog so much :0

I was wondering if you had any fics where Crowley's and/or Aziraphale's wings get clipped or broken?

Thank you! <3

Hello! We have a #wing injury tag you can check, and here are more wing injury and wing loss fics. Mind the tags on these, folks!...

7:41pm by CaspianTheGeek (M)

When Aziraphale disappears from Crowley's arms, the demon needs to find him. But it's not as easy as he would hope. "“Crowley. Crowley something’s wrong.” It was a whisper. Aziraphale’s eyes looked pained. He watched Aziraphale seem to shimmer in front of him. No. He tightened his grip on the angel. “Crowley, something is pulling me, I can’t. I can’t-” Aziraphale looked at him, fear growing in his eyes. His hand came up but it was already shimmering again. Crowley forced back memories of Aziraphale in a bar on the day of the apocalypse. “I’ll find you, Aziraphale. I promise I’ll find you.”"

To Build a Home by 1Lunabug7 (T)

They thought that they were safe, they had tricked the entirety of Heaven and Hell after all, but after Aziraphale suffers a traumatic event, leaving him mute and unable to move without assistance, Crowley realizes that they will never be safe. Now, he has to take care of Aziraphale and not crack under pressure. Will Aziraphale ever be the same again?! Or will Crowley lose him, as well as himself, forever?!

The Sins of Love by FeatherBlack (T)

Crowley goes missing for a decade and Aziraphale isn't sure whether or not he should be worried. That is, until Crowley crashes onto the floor of his shop in a state almost worse than death.

To Plant New Seeds by momentia (E)

It's sometime later, still dark or maybe dark again, when the door to his flat opens. He wakes, startles, then whimpers. Every tiny movement feels like the knives are still hacking away at him. Where was their cold efficiency then? No, they'd wanted him to suffer. They'd succeeded. "Oh." That voice again, and in the room this time. Crowley would weep, but he's not sure when he last stopped. "Oh," Aziraphale says again, "oh, Crowley." "They took them," Crowley moans, pitiful even to his own ears. "They took my wings."

Crossing a Line by Bookwormgal (T)

The world should have ended four years ago. That was how it was written. The Great Plan was very clear on that much. Six thousand years after the creation of the world, the Anti-Christ would arrive on Earth. And after his eleventh birthday, when he came into power, he would lead the demons into the Final War. All of humanity would perish while angels and demons clashed in one final glorious confrontation. But no one had accounted for a few little snags. Like a couple of traitors. Or a disobedient Anti-Christ. And then, as if the Apocalypse not happening wasn’t already bad enough, Heaven and Hell couldn’t even punish those to blame for that entire mess. That was unacceptable. If Michael couldn't have the promised War and if she could not kill at least the demon involved, then she would at a minimum make him suffer. She could at least make him suffer until he wished that holy water could end his miserable existence.

Behind Glass by EdosianOrchids901 (M)

After a summoning, Crowley manages to stagger back to the bookshop and collapse into Aziraphale’s arms. He’s incoherent, injured, and clutching a pair of bloody scissors. What exactly happened to him, and how did he escape?

- Mod D

[sabo-has-my-heart]

Haloo yellow helllloooooo

Is it alright if I ask for like Trafalgar Law x reader? It's up to you if you wanna make them male or female, I'm thinking of having a reader that can summon wings but with a price. Like the wings would literally rip out of their back, leaving a big scar and lots and lots of blood. It's not bad enough? The feathers are made of light steel but has sharp edges at the bottom. Making it more than painful... And I think it should be a curse so that you wouldn't have to think of a devil fruit? It's alr if you did, tho.

omg, this almost made my cry while I was writing it! As a note, Noroi means curse. I will also likely be creating the devil fruit I used in this as well as one based on her transformation (it sounds interesting to me). I made it more than just the wings, but there's reasoning for that... I'm gonna go cry now! (not really, but holy shit, this fic!)

Warnings: graphic depictions of injuries, blood, curses, angst, pain, hurt/comfort, GN!Reader

Word Count: 1675

     The first time he saw the scars, he was horrified. Two long, vertical lines down your back about where your shoulder blades were. Starting just above the shoulder blade and running down to your mid back. He wasn’t sure if the scars looked more like tears or cuts. You hadn’t answered him when he asked what they were from, you’d refused to tell him. After asking again and again, he began to assume that something horrific had happened to you, something you were afraid to talk about. Had you been captured and tortured? Had someone betrayed you? Had it been an accident of some sort? Did you even remember what had happened? Maybe it was so traumatic that your mind blocked it out, perhaps it was painful to remember. So he stopped asking, if it was traumatic, he didn’t want to risk an outburst or break down. 

     You remembered how it had happened, how you’d gotten this curse. A devil fruit, yet it wasn’t you who’d eaten it. The Noroi Noroi no mi. It allowed the user to bestow curses upon other people. Some minor, some… some like yours. Large metal wings, sharp blades that cut through your skin as they tore out of your back. Light weight yet strong, capable of propelling you hundreds, sometimes even thousands of feet in the air. The pain was like nothing you’d ever imagined before, the first time they’d sheared through your skin, you’d screamed in pain, falling to the ground. You’d lost consciousness, the pain too much for your mind to handle. You didn’t pass out from the pain anymore, but it still made you cry out in pain, it was still a blinding pain that left you shaking. With your wings fresh from your back, you looked like an angel of war, metal wings glinting in the sunlight as fresh blood dripped from the sharp tips of the ‘feathers’. Yet the curse didn’t stop there. With each activation, the curse progressed, as if to make your life an endless hell, maybe to ensure that you’d never just learn to deal with the pain. Metal that ripped out of your hair line, forming a beautiful silver circlet, yet dripped with blood, the red liquid running is streams down your face. A burning in your eyes, like acid, as they changed into an unnaturally bright blue, the whites turning a a lustrous ivory, like pearls. With each activation of your curse, you looked more and more like some sort of twisted, bloodstained angel of war. All you could think was it was only a matter of time before armor sprouted from your limbs, a cuirass of steel protecting your chest, until your body dripped with blood and you became a ‘true angel’ of blood and steel. Your worse nightmare. Horrific pain as the metal ripped through every part of your body, dripping with blood as people looked on in fear. What would the others think? What would Law think? Would they push you away? Or perhaps they might comfort you? Would they look at you in horror? Or would their looks turn to ones of sympathy? You couldn’t take that chance. You couldn’t risk losing those you loved most. 

     Now, however, you risked losing them anyway. Should you transform, you risked losing them as they pushed you away; but if you did nothing, you risked them dying and losing them for good, risked knowing that they died when you could have saved them. So with a pained cry, you allowed the metal to tear from your skin. Once more dripping with blood, you faced your enemies. Everyone’s eyes were on you, the scream, the transformation, drawing their attention. Pauldrons of metal covered your shoulders, your blood covered circlet dripping with blood, your wings glinting in the sunlight as the red liquid dripped from the tips to the ground. Unnaturally blue eyes glared at your enemies as the hilt of a blade formed at your waist. You could feel the metal springing from your skin in the same horrific fashion, yet this time, you didn’t care. This time, you took hold of the metal willingly, this time, you pulled it from your body as if the pain didn’t matter, as if what you had become was trivial. It left a gash in your hip, the hilt burned like red hot fire against your hand as you charged forward. An angel of war? No. A demon of blood, steel, and fury as you cut your enemies down. A metal blade, sharper than any man made sword, sharper than even Law’s scalpels or feather blades. Piercing and slashing through your enemies and suddenly, you were covered in blood once more, yet this blood was not your own. Chest heaving, you dropped the blade at your feet. All around you, bodies littered the ground, blood watering the earth and pooling at your feet. You closed your eyes as tears burned behind your eye lids. It was time to face the others, time to face their horrified stares and terrified faces. But you refused to do so as you were now, refused to face them as the demonic creature you’d become. The wings retracted, the blade on the ground seemed to gain a mind of its own as it turned into liquid metal and shot into your calf. Pauldrons pulled back into your skin, and circlet slipped back into your head. But more had formed during your battle. Blood stained vambraces folded back into your forearms and a gold trimmed tasset slipped into your waist. Your clothes had been shredded by the metal that had sprouted from your body and was covered in your blood. The wounds caused by the curse quickly healed, leaving more scarring. It was a bitter sweet ability of the curse. It allowed you to heal quickly, making wounding you difficult. Because if you bled out, the curse could no longer take hold of you. The palm of your hand now had burn scars and your eyes still felt like they were covered in acid. Still, still you turned to them. Their looks were ones of horror and sympathy, they cradled their own wounds, yet they stood up, hurrying over to you. Bepo was the first to reach you, pulling you close and wrapping his large arms around you, sobbing as he tried to say something that was lost in the sounds of his crying. Penguin and Shachi were soon wrapped around you as well, muttering apologies and words of comfort. Soon the entire crew minus Law was holding you in a group hug, words of comfort surrounding you. Tears ran down your cheeks, yet these were not tears of pain. They were tears of relief. They didn’t hate you, they weren’t turning you away. They were pulling you closer. You lost track of how long they held you before you all returned to the Polar Tang, the crew offering to cook, help you clean up, let you rest, whatever you wanted. It was shortly after you’d entered your room, before you got a chance to shower that Law appeared in your room. The two of you simply stood there in silence. He was the one you were most afraid of right now. Would he leave you? Would he hate you? Would he be angry at you for keeping it a secret? Law walked over to you in silence, gently taking your arm and examining the new scars.

     “Now I know why you didn’t tell me… are you… are you still in pain?” he asked, eyes looking at you in concern. 

     “They’re… tender. They will be for a few days.” you admitted, looking away from him. Law gently wiped some blood away from your arm with his sleeve before pressing a soft kiss to the new scar that ran up your entire forearm.

     “From now on, I’ll take care of you, You’ll never have to use this ability again. I… I won’t let you. As your captain, I forbid you from using it again, no matter the situation.” he said sternly, yet you could tell that his words were simply out of worry for your well-being. You could only nod as you stared into his eyes. While they were filled with sympathy and concern, they also shone with love. He loved you too much to let this happen to you again.

     “Let me help you.” he said softly, gently pulling the remains of your blood soaked clothes from your body before gently carrying you to the shower. He was more gentle with you than ever as he carefully washed the blood from your body, almost as if he was afraid his touch would tear your skin open again. Once you were clean and in fresh clothes, he ‘shambles’ed you to the dining room, the crew already having made your favorite. While they wanted to be there for you, they’d all agreed to leave you be, not wanting to make you feel like a freak by standing there and staring at you or asking you questions. They had questions, they wanted to care for you, but they knew it would be best if they treated you like normal, as if nothing had happened. To treat you like always so that you knew that nothing had changed, you hadn’t changed in their eyes. In a way, it was true, you hadn’t changed in their eyes. You were still you, still the same person who cared about them, still the same person they’d always cared for, who was part of their little family. They’d let you rest more often, they’d treat you with more care, they’d protect you more, but you were still you, even with your curse. Law would be the same. He’d treat you like he always had, yet at the same time, he’d be more careful with you, be softer with you. But you knew it was only because they didn’t want you to have to suffer that pain again. Only because they loved you. They still loved you. 

[adrift-in-thyme]

Whumptober Day 3: "Make it stop"

Read it on Ao3

- Wild & the Chain

- Summary: When Wild is captured by the Yiga Clan, Master Kohga decides to get his revenge

CW for graphic depictions of violence, torture, blood and injury, vomiting, and a character briefly wishing for death

----------------------

“Get up!”

Wild pries open his eyes just as a boot connects with his side. He jerks away with a hiss of pain. 

Of all the horrible ways to wake up…

The face of a Yiga assassin comes into view as his vision clears and he groans. 

Even better.

“I said, get up!”

Another kick that takes Wild’s breath away.

“Yeah that’s not the best way to get me off the floor,” he remarks, dragging himself into a seated position.

That earns him a sharp smack across the face. Wincing, he watches as the assassin bends down, unlocking his chains. They fall to the floor with a clatter. But Wild hardly has time to breathe a sigh of relief, or rub his wrists, or even to plan a quick escape. Almost immediately, the Yiga yanks his hands behind his back, then ties them tightly with a thick rope.

The coarse material rubs at his already raw wrists. It only adds to the cacophony of aches that have begun to arise now that he’s conscious. Wild blows out an annoyed sigh. As if he could forget how sorely he had lost his last fight.

Rough hands haul him to his feet and he stumbles. His surroundings go fuzzy and dim and for a moment he is certain he’s going to faint. But then it passes. And not a moment too soon. The Yiga shoves him forward and wrenches open the cell door.

The same one they’d thrown Barta into, Wild realizes dazedly. The thought doesn’t make him feel any more comfortable.

“Walk,” comes the sharp order, accompanied by another, hearty push. Stumbling on achingly numb legs, Wild starts forward.

He falls more than walks down the stairs. Between the Yiga’s forceful movements and the haze he has yet to pull himself out of, he can hardly keep himself upright. Even the journey across the main room is difficult.

Especially once he realizes where they’re headed.

“Master Kohga will be so pleased to see you,” his captor hisses, no doubt noticing the sudden increased tension in Wild’s shoulders.

“Didn’t I kill him?” Wild asks, with a forced chuckle. Maybe if he feigns nonchalance it will mask the thundering of his heart. He sends a furtive glance around the space, looking for anything that could possibly allow for a quick escape. But there is nothing.

…and no one. Save for the few assassins who leer at him from beneath their masks.

He swallows, hard. “I think I remember dropping his own weapon onto his head.”

That garners him a swift kick to the shins. He trips, only saved from face planting by the Yiga’s tight grip.

“You are a fool to think our master is so easily defeated. You on the other hand…”

The hallway narrows, then widens into a familiar room. He forces himself to take a deep breath.

“…you will meet your end today.”

Wild lifts his head as he walks through the doorway, heart situated painfully in his throat. Master Kohga sits before him, looking very much alive.

“You,” he snarls as soon as he lays eyes on the champion. “You cocky, undying little punk! You thought you had seen the end of the Great Master Kohga, didn’t you?”

Wild shrugs, a slight smirk on his lips. “I did drop a boulder on your head.”

The Yiga restraining him kicks his legs out from under him. He hits the ground with an “oof.”

“That-that is inconsequential!” Kohga replies, huffily. “I am more powerful than death! But for the pain you caused my beloved, loyal followers” – He rises now, stomping his foot along with every word– “You. Are. Going. To. Die!”

His captor’s grip tightens and he yanks on Wild’s hands. Wild falls back, head bumping against the assassin's hip.

“Shall I take him outside, Master Kohga?” A sadistic sort of excitement colors his voice. It makes Wild’s blood run cold.

Kohga nods. “Yes, take him. I do not wish to ruin my furniture with his blood.”

Again, Wild is hauled upward, though this time a vicious sickle finds its way into his back. It bites into his flesh and he fights not to let out a hiss of pain.

“Move,” the Yiga snaps and Wild stumbles out into the sun.

Kohga sits cross-legged over the crater Wild had been so certain he had plummeted into, hovering serenely just above it.

“Come forward, hero,” he sneers as Wild is shoved toward the gaping hole. “You will be pleased to find that I have perfected my art more than ever!”

With a snap of his fingers, a massive boulder appears above his head. Dozens of tiny spikes protrude from its smooth surface. Wild’s blood runs cold. Abandoning his more measured, methodical tugs of before, he begins yanking ferociously at his bonds.

But then, the Yiga drives his sickle into the back of his leg and all thoughts of an escape vanish. He chokes on a cry. His vision bleeds white. It’s all he can do not to pass out.

One, swift movement and the weapon is out of him, tearing through his flesh as easily as fingers through tissue paper. This time he screams.

He hardly registers it when the Yiga backs away, barely realizes that a large, stone door is sliding over the opening behind him, blocking any exit.

But Kohga’s shrill laughter pierces his ears like knives and he drags his head up to look at him.

“If I were you I would run,” he says, voice nearly brimming with excitement. “Because the time for vengeance has come!”

He begins to swing the boulder over his head. With each trip around it gains momentum, growing closer and closer to the moment when it will break free and careen straight at Wild.

Come on, get up. You’ve got to move.

Gritting his teeth, Wild forces himself to his feet. Pain shoots through his leg anew, like a thousand tiny shards of glass have entered his wound. A scream breaks through his parched lips. His lungs burn, breath coming too fast, heart beating erratically. Stars explode before his eyes.

And still the boulder spins. The motion makes him dizzy.

On trembling limbs he stumbles forward, bile rising in his throat. But each step is sheer agony and he’s slow.

…much too slow.

When the boulder flies free, he can’t evade it. It collides with his body and he goes flying. Pain erupts within him. It steals his breath, propels forth a shout of shock and agony, makes his extremities go numb. He can hear his bones cracking even over the rushing in his ears. His vision goes blindingly white, then spotty, then dangerously dark.

He hits the ground, crying out at the agony of the impact. And the boulder comes down with him, crushing his prone body.

Somewhere, Kohga is laughing. The boulder disappears, retreating back to its owner to prepare for another round. Wild knows he should get up, knows he should at least attempt to run. But all he can do is lie there, trying to breathe. Trying to stay awake.

Blood gurgles in his throat and he pitches sideways, gagging on it. Against the blurred sand, the liquid looks far darker than usual. Almost black.

Like the blood of the Shadow, he thinks dazedly.

He doesn’t get much farther than that thought. Because once more the boulder shoots forward. This time it rolls into him more than flies, shoving him against the far wall and pinning him there.

He doesn’t have the strength to scream, even as the spikes tear out chunks of his flesh and his shattered bones protest this newest assault. He yearns for oblivion that refuses to come.

“So, hero, how do you like it?”

It hits him again, smashing him against the cool stone. He gags on blood once more. It drips into his eyes, runs in rivulets down his face, pools in the gashes that run along his body. 

“Painful, isn’t it? Well, that is what you did to me!”

Wild teeters on the edge. Of death or unconsciousness, though, he isn’t sure. Death, he hopes.

(Though at the same time, he doesn’t, because that means he has lost the battle again, failed everyone again, but sweet Hylia he just wants this to stop. Please make this stop.)

And it’s clear now that there will be no other escape.

Your brothers aren’t coming for you. Even if they are, they’ll be too late.

It’s already too late.

“But the mighty Master Kogha prevails over pain and death! You, however, are weak! Weak, weak, weak!”

The boulder retracts and Wild watches it dimly. One more hit is all it will take. He is certain.

So much for coming back to life.

He can see bone, he realizes, shining gorily from his left arm. It is at a strange angle too.

Must be broken. 

It certainly isn’t the only thing. But somehow, that hardly seems important at the moment. 

His eyes slip closed. Everything hurts. The only other time he felt like this was when he collapsed on Blatchery Plain.

I’m sorry, Zelda, for putting you through this again.

I’m sorry…

“Champion!”

A shout rings out across the space, protectively furious and wonderfully familiar. There’s a scream and the sound of something heavy hitting the ground. But the blow he expects doesn’t fall on him.

Instead, gentle hands lift his head, cradling it. He blinks open swollen eyes to see the blurred face of Twilight hovering just above him. Legend and Sky appear over his shoulder, seconds later.

“Twi.”

Clumsily, he tries to reach out with his less injured arm, eager to touch him, to prove that he is real. But his body refuses to follow his commands. He doesn’t have to worry, though. The rancher’s hand easily finds its way into his.

“I’ve got you, Wild,” he says, and there is pure fire in his tone. “You’re safe now.”

A head of familiar pink hair leans over him. Gentle, trembling hands nudge his chin upward. 

“Here, you’ve gotta drink this.”

Potion is poured down his throat, lukewarm and burning. But the magic of it begins its work immediately, zipping purposefully toward the worst of his wounds.

Wild swallows it with an effort. Then, he drags his eyes back up to meet Twilight’s. “Kohga?”

It is hardly a whisper, yet they hear it anyway.

“Dead.” He thinks it’s Sky who answers, though his voice doesn’t quite have its usual tone. It is a brittle thing. Dangerous. “For good this time.”

Wild tries to grin, but finds he isn’t quite up to it. “Good,” he mumbles instead. “Tired of his dumb belly.”

Twilight’s lips quirk the slightest bit. Gently, he brushes aside Wild’s bangs, wet with blood and sweat.

“Well, he’s never gonna touch you again.”

“Now, rest up,” Legend says, shakily. “We’ve got this handled. You focus on not dying.”

Any other time Wild would laugh and tease the vet about his blatant caring. But all he can focus on is the pleasantly numb feeling that has begun to spread throughout his body, and how warm Twilight’s embrace is as he scoops him carefully off of the ground. His eyes slip closed of their own accord. Before he even realizes what is happening, the darkness swallows him and he is gone.

[evilwriter37]

Rated: explicit

Warnings: graphic depictions of violence, rape/noncon, blood, injury, gore

Relationships: Viggo/Hiccup, Dagur & Toothless, Hiccup & Toothless, Astrid & Fishlegs & Ruffnut & Tuffnut & Snotlout, Astrid & Toothless, Dagur & Fishlegs

Chapter Word Count: 1,838

Summary: Hiccup is taken captive by Viggo instead of being left to go free. Unlikely alliances will form as Dagur, Toothless, and the Dragon Riders fight to get him back. In the meantime, Hiccup is at the mercy of Viggo, a man who has none to give.

[the-stars-in-between]

DAY 2 : Again.

Luffy relives the worst day of his life, over and over again.

I wasn't inspired by today's prompts so I chose one of the alternatives: Time Loop. Since I didn't have time to write everything, I'll post loop by loop as I go along, instead of all at once. This story is quite hard to read (and write), so pay attention to the warnings and take care of yourself above all <3 Trigger Warnings: - Graphic Description of Violence - Blood and Injuries - Burns - Major Character Death Fandom : One Piece (Anime & Manga) Character(s) : Monkey D. Luffy Relationship(s) : Monkey D. Luffy & Portgas D. Ace Words Count : 1,548 No. 2: ALTERNATIVE  Time Loop

First Loop

Luffy struggled to retrieve Ace's Vivre Card that was slipping from his fingers. It was in front of him, just inches away, and yet unreachable. He didn't really know why, but he had to retrieve that Vivre Card. It was important, it was a part of Ace. He couldn't lose it. Nothing else mattered. The outside world faded into the background around him — the screams of agony, the smell of blood and smoke, the corpses he was stepping on to escape — leaving only the small burning piece of paper in his field of vision. 

(Ace had been burned by Akainu. His big brother, the one who always walked two steps ahead of him, unreachable and strong , the living embodiment of fire, had been burned . Sabo had died in the flames of an explosion. Luffy had forgotten it, but big brothers could burn too.)

Luffy's hand finally closed around Ace's Vivre Card and the panic that clouded his mind subdued. He had succeeded, Ace wouldn't leave him.

He had promised.

“You won't leave here alive!”

Luffy looked up and met Ace's desperate gaze. Why was Ace looking at him like that? He should be happy, Luffy had his Vivre Card back.

“Luffy!”

The flaming fist of Absolute Justice charged at him, invading his field of vision until all he could see was flames — stories whispered by a campfire, the burn of the Grey Terminal fire on his skin, Ace's arm around his shoulders in the middle of winter — and bloody red.

Oh.

Luffy wanted to move, should have moved, but he couldn't. The world was so fast when he was so slow, exhaustion slowing all his movements to the very core of his bones.

(If his crew was there, he could have rested for five minutes before going back into battle, but Luffy was alone .)

Suddenly, without Luffy understanding what was happening — he was so tired — Ace was in front of him, smiling sadly. Luffy's eyes widened in horror as he noticed the fist through Ace's body. The smell of burning flesh hit him in the face and Ace vomited blood, a retch shaking his entire body.

Akainu stepped back, removing his fist from Ace's body carelessly, Ace's guts falling to the ground, bloody and steaming. There was a hole in Ace's torso, where his lungs should have been. The skin around the wound was burned raw, sizzling with blisters and peeling away to the bone. And amidst the mess of ruined and damaged flesh, hidden behind his broken ribs, his brother's still beating heart. 

Thud, thud, thud.

Luffy focused on Ace's fading heartbeat, clinging to his brother's last breath of life. Ace wasn't dead yet! Luffy could still save him. Luffy remembered yelling at Akainu who was raising his fist once more to finish Ace off, but he didn't remember Jinbei and Ace's friends intervening.

Everything vanished when Ace fell to his knees in Luffy's arms. Luffy caught him, his hand red, red, red when he looked at it after touching Ace's back. Luffy placed his hand on the wound, trying to stop the endless bleeding. Ace slid into Luffy's arms, his head falling onto his shoulder, and Luffy tightened his grip around Ace, refusing to let him go.

"I'm sorry, Luffy," Ace struggled to say, choking. "I'm so sorry, I stopped you from saving me properly. Forgive me.”

Ace was breathing heavily, just talking, draining him of his meager strength. Blood was dripping down Luffy's shoulder in large drops.

"What are you talking about? Stop talking nonsense!"

Ace wasn't dying, Luffy could still feel his heart beating between his fingers. Ace wasn't dying. He couldn't die. He had promised. He couldn't die.

"Someone!" Luffy begged, screaming until his vocal cords broke, feeling the heat leave Ace's body. “Heal his wounds! Save Ace!”

Luffy didn't like the cold. Cold meant being alone in the night, cold meant an empty place in the treehouse. Cold meant Death.

"Luffy stop," Ace said weakly. "My time has come. He burned me from the inside out, I won't make it this time.”

And Ace was never weak. He was bold and brash and mean at times, a raging fire. Never weak, always strong. Ace was the reason Luffy survived Sabo's death. Because Ace was strong where Luffy wasn't, learning to be kind and caring for Luffy.

Ace was strong .

Luffy wasn't.

“No! You promised”! Luffy refused, understanding what his big brother meant. “You told me Ace, right? You said you wouldn't die!”

Because Ace was strong but he was also stupid. He forgot obvious things sometimes and Luffy had to remind him. Like the fact that Luffy loved him. But if Luffy reminded him of his promise, then maybe Ace wouldn't die.

“You promised,” Luffy stopped himself from sobbing. Ace didn't like whiners.

“You know, if it wasn't for Sabo, if I didn't have a little brother like you to watch over. I wouldn't have wanted to live.” Luffy's heart clenched painfully in his chest. “No one wanted me after all. So it's completely normal.”

Ace clung to Luffy like a lifeline, as if Luffy was the only thing keeping him alive. Luffy was terrified that he wouldn’t be enough to keep Ace alive for a little longer.

“Oh right, if you ever run into Dadan again, could you say goodbye for me?” Ace laughed softly, his laughter cut off by a coughing fit. “It’s strange, now that I’m about to die, I feel like I miss her.”

Ace’s breath was labored, his voice hoarse. And Luffy didn’t dare look — because if he did, he’d have to face his big brother’s dying face — but he was pretty sure Ace was crying, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

“I only have one regret, and that’s not seeing your dream come true. But I know you, you’ll get there, that’s for sure.” Ace and Sabo had been among the first to hear his dream, among the first to believe in him. “You're my brother after all.”

Luffy had two brothers. One had been dead for over ten years, the other was dying in his arms. Who was going to believe in his dreams now?

And yet Luffy couldn't do anything. He was frozen, afraid that the slightest movement would make things worse. The only thing he could do was hold his brother in his arms as he died, hoping that Ace would feel all the love Luffy had for him.

Ace was loved. He had to know that, right ?

"As we promised each other back then, I have no regrets about the life I led."

This time, Luffy couldn't help but protest. This wasn't how it was going to end. It couldn't be.

(Ace's heartbeat was getting slower and slower, more and more rare.)

"No, you're lying!"

"No, it's true!" Ace insisted, his fingers digging painfully into Luffy's shoulder with a surprising strength for a dead man. “It seems that what I always wanted in the end wasn't fame or glory. But just the answer to my question. Why did I come into this world? "

Ace had always been haunted by his past, by the past of those who had come before him, that of his parents. But Luffy didn't live in the past, he didn't care who Ace's father was. What mattered was the present, what mattered was that Ace was Luffy 's brother.

Ace was Ace and that was all that mattered. Ace had always been enough.

"Luffy, I want you to listen to what I have to say and tell the others afterwards," Luffy knew at that moment that his brother's words would be his last. He wasn't ready for that. “Even though I've been a good-for-nothing my whole life, even though I carry the blood of a demon.”

The fighting raged around them and yet it had never been interrupted. Ace's family fought to give them one last moment, one last hug.

"Thank you for loving me!"

Crying, Ace formed a smile on his lips for the last time. Ace collapsed in Luffy's arms, his hand falling from Luffy's neck where Ace had clung to during his final moments, leaving a trail of blood along Luffy's cheek.

Ace fell to the ground, alive one moment, dead the next, and Luffy screamed out all his pain and sorrow, inaudible amidst the horrors of war. Ace was dead.

Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. 

Ace was dead.

Ace.

Was.

Dead.

Ace was dead.

Years of memories flashed through Luffy's mind in a split second - all ending with the same tragic phrase "thank you for loving me", all ending with Ace's death - shattering his psyche to the last piece.

They were always meant to end up here - Ace, dead and Luffy, helpless - there was nothing Luffy could have done to change things.

“ACE!!!”

In the end, when the darkness reached out to him, Luffy welcomed it willingly. Luffy fell into nothingness, hoping to never come out. Not if it meant living in a world alone.

Click. Again .

[wayward-sherlock]

goodbye stranger.

They’d already made it to the end of the world. There was no point in waiting, not anymore — Will was almost certain that if he waited any longer, the words he wanted to say would be his dying ones, melting on his lips with warm blood and his last breath.

Will loved Mike.

And now he was going to kill him.

will's been taken by vecna. he's killed mike hundreds of times, and he has no idea which one is going to be real.

for @bylerween2023 day 4!

[achenetype]

What would happend if Raven reader never left the nest?👁️ Love ur writing

THIS SPARKED SOMETHING IN ME OH MG GOD

MDNI; implied sex, hand wavey consent, abuse, raven-typical cult behavior and stockholm syndrome, riko is his own warning, injury/violence

listening to: sea, swallow me by cocteau twins

you can’t leave the nest, for a multitude of reasons. some of the other ravens still see their families; they go home for a weekend or for spring break every once in a while. they cite living close to the university, their parents being concerned or overprotective.

your family lives thousands of miles away and they hate you, so you stay at the nest. winter break, spring, summer. you know how edgar allan university looks baked in heat, drenched in rain, blanketed in snow.

riko moriyama and kevin day become your lifeline. he never leaves either. you spend more time together with them than you do with any of the other ravens, running perfect laps on castle evermore’s perfect court until all three of you are out of breath. you suck sparkling air into your lungs and laugh on the way back to your dorm, riko’s arms around your and kevin’s shoulders. perfect, perfect, perfect.

riko becomes captain and that perfection turns icelike and cold. he pushes everyone to their limits, especially himself. you and kevin push back. most of the other ravens are too scared to, but the three of you are perfect perfect perfect, the three of you are brilliant and nothing can stop you.

nothing can stop you until riko shatters kevin’s hand and you spend hours picking up the pieces.

nothing can stop you until riko shatters at the same time as your arm, when he does the same thing to you.

you spend weeks in recovery. riko sits at your bedside, murmuring apologies. murmuring we had to make it look believable, murmuring im so sorry.

your arm heals. clean break. clean hole where kevin used to be. clean, perfect number one, riko moriyama.

you still love him, which you’re not sure is a fact or a weapon. he is too tangled in you to separate what you are from what he is, and who hasn’t been cruel, in the nest? who hasn’t broken someone else to get ahead?

you have. riko has. this makes you a perfect match.

neil josten, newly rechristened nathaniel wesninski and number four, leaves as soon as he appears. some part of you resents him for it but a bigger part is, selfishly, grateful for riko’s attention to be back on you. you want your place by his side back—you want your life back.

you can’t leave the nest even when riko beats jean within an inch of his life. you can’t leave when that girl from the foxes appears and whisks him away, when riko breaks a window and punches a hole in the wall and screams about how his perfect court is falling apart.

everything is falling apart, you want to tell him. everything is falling apart and we can’t do a damn thing about it.

(instead you kiss his knuckles and help clean the glass off of the floor. instead you murmur distractions: how good his form was today, how pretty he looks with blood in his teeth, how you want him to shove you up against the court wall and take whatever he wants. you’d give it to him anyways. you’ve given it before, given everything else.)

(you fall asleep that night feeling hollow. riko’s arms around you and his head on your chest are no comfort. you want to hate yourself in a new, sick way, something that sways in your stomach and makes you want to puke or slash your wrists open like one of the freshman backliners did last week.)

(you want to hate yourself, but you can’t.)

and you can’t leave, either.

[aftgficrec]

Can you please suggest fics where neil and bee have more interactions. Or even ones about andrew and bee talking about neil or anything else

Btw I really really appreciate everything yall do! God bless you.

Here is what we found for you. -A

Neil/andreil talk to Bee:

Neil goes to therapy here

‘we softly stir the violence’ and ‘Healing’ series parts 1 & 3 here

‘“I wish I'd never…”’ here

‘Andrew Minyards Crystal’ here

‘pain our brain has made’ here (updated)

‘not to blame for falling’ series and ‘sidelines’ here

‘on the tip of my tongue (say something)’ series here (completed)

‘Andrew and Neil's guide to getting better’ series here

‘True Love Waits’ series here

‘Cyberstalking’ here

‘Promises’ here

‘A Taste of Your Own Medicine’ here

‘The Massive Continuity of Ducks’ and ‘Ghost of You’ here

‘A collection of Andreil one-shots’ ch 3 here

‘I Don't Know’ here

‘The Destination Was Always Forever’ (updated), ‘Minyard-Josten Rivalry’ (updated), ‘sunrise, abram’ series, ‘and in a flash, it's gone.’ series part 2, and ‘Stay Where I Can Reach’ here

Andrew talks to Bee about Neil:

previous ask here

‘Unspoken’ here

‘AFTG Drabbles’ parts 1 & 8 here

‘Paper Cut Hearts’ here

‘the shuffling of cards’ here

‘words can't warm the windows of my soul’ here

‘The Hand That Needs Me’ here

‘Mother Mannequin’ here

‘Anything’ here

‘the icarus to your certainty’ here

‘No straighter path than to struggle’ here

‘Can we can pretend like we're (not) in love?’ here

Neil Josten is Not Fine by Anonymous [Rated T, 3362 Words, Complete, AFTG Then & Never 2024]

After weeks of nightmares and an embarrassing discovery, Neil finally decides to pay Betsy a visit.

tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: nightmares, tw: bedwetting

i'll take anything you have (if you could throw me a line) by ifitmeanslosingyou [Rated M, 923 Words, Complete, 2024]

the sunrise can be pretty, neil thinks, but instead of the pinks and oranges washing him with ease, neil can’t help the panic at the thought that he’s been up here for longer than he planned to he wonders if anyone has even realized he left the dorms in the first place, wonders if andrew even looked when neil left the bedroom, wonders if he gave up, wonders if he finally came to his senses and realized neil was more trouble than he’s worth wonders if the roof of the court is high enough that the fall would kill him day 31: asking for help | therapy | “i’m alive, i’m just not well”

tw: suicidal thoughts, tw: implied/referenced self harm

help, I've lost myself again (but I remember you) by abitsillygoofy [Not Rated, 5320 Words, Complete, 2024]

“Neil we have to talk about it,” Betsy said “I don’t think so” Neil replied “Nope, not happening” He popped the p at the end trying to make the woman mad at him. “You just tried to kill yourself, so I think we have to have this talk” Betsy didn’t seem bothered by his act and kept her nice, neutral facial expression, but unlike on his session looked worried too. or Neil wakes up in the hospital after his suicide attempt and has to face what he did.

tw: suicide attempt, tw: self harm, tw: blood

keep telling me that it gets better (does it ever?) by phan_taloon [Rated M, 15415 Words, Complete, 2022, Locked]

Previously recced here

AU where Neil never met the Foxes, with a little less mafia and a little more pain for Neil when he ends up captured by Nathan for months, and has to deal with the consequences by himself. He ends up in treatment for chronic pain with opioids, and let's just say opioid use is tricky when you're alone and in pain; one thing can lead to another more easily than it seems.

tw: drug addiction, tw: drug overdose, tw: withdrawal, tw: suicidal thoughts, tw: implied/referenced self harm, tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: vomit

an acquired taste the asbestos is lovely by cyanica [Rated M, 6617 Words, Complete, 2024, Locked]

“What did you take?” Andrew demands. Neil wonders if Andrew will taste all that is wrong with Neil when he kisses him. He wonders if Andrew will recognize it. Andrew knows what it is to hurt himself, and this must be familiar. It’s deja vu, Neil thinks, if only a little bit worse, a little more terrible. Neil shakes his head, groaning into the toilet, “I don’t want to tell you.” Andrew pulls out his phone, and Neil can already hear it dialling when he says, “You can tell the paramedics.” Or; “Cigarettes,” Neil says. “I ate your cigarettes.”

tw: self harm, tw: overdose, tw: pica, tw: eating disorders, tw: vomit, tw: blood, tw: mental breakdown, tw: implied/referenced abuse

If it means protecting you (I’ll pay my dues) by Intangibel (duskbutterfly) [Rated T, 125462 Words, Incomplete, Updated April 2023]

Previously recced here

What if the threat of Aaron being charged with murder was more significant and Neil found out that he could prevent Andrew from having to be at the trial if he were to testify. What would he be willing to sacrifice to achieve that? What if instead of refusing to testify for Aaron, Neil decides to make a deal with the FBI to become their witness against his father if they’ll backstop his current identity. He thinks it means signing his death warrant and losing the Foxes. Betsy, Aaron and the Foxes are determined to convince him it doesn’t have to be all or nothing, his father’s people are coming for him and that’s not even starting on what Andrew will have to say about Neil choosing to martyr himself.

tw: graphic depictions of violence, tw: child abuse, tw: torture, tw: blood, tw: scars, tw: vomit, tw: implied/referenced drug addiction, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced csa, tw: homophobia, tw: conversion camp reference, tw: reenactment therapy with noncon

The Sun Still Rises by mordax [Rated E, 474451 Words, Incomplete, Updated Oct 2024]

Previously recced here

Somewhere on the road, Mary Hatford gets pregnant with her second child. When she passes, she leaves behind not only Neil, but his toddler brother. Survival is difficult without also raising a kid. Worn out and desperate, Neil still somehow ends up at Palmetto, only this time, he brings his four-year-old brother with him.

tw: violence, tw: anxiety, tw: panic attacks,  tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced self harm, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: drug use, tw: involuntary sedation, tw: reenactment therapy with noncon

NB: find fanart for this fic by @/elidanus on twitter here

Ain’t it fun by jemejem [Rated T (we say M) 30672 Words, Complete, 2018]

Neil can't sleep. Andrew can't feel. High school is going well for the both of them.

tw: homophobia, tw: mental breakdown, tw: anxiety, tw: depression, tw: suicidal thoughts, tw: suicide attempt, tw: implied/referenced self harm, tw: scars, tw: ptsd, tw: psychological trauma, tw: flashbacks

I been here all along (so why can't you see?) by alexcherry [Rated G, 8691 Words, Complete, 2021]

Andrew leans on the counter beside Neil's thigh. "Where do you want to go, Josten? What favor do you need from me?" Neil looked at Andrew and steeled himself. "I want you to come with me to the next therapy session with Betsy posing as my boyfriend." "Like one," Andrew thought for a moment. "Couple therapy?" Neil perked up. "Yes! Exactly, and then we see how long it takes her to find out we're not connected at all."

tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: implied/referenced murder

If You Need Shelter by AfraidOfBananas [Rated M, 2642 Words, Complete, 2021]

“The boy is staring at Neil with a startled expression like he’s just seen a ghost. Well, maybe he has. Neil hasn’t felt alive for a very long time.” Or.....Neil meets Andrew while he’s on the run

Family by BlueJay26 [Not Rated, 9420 Words, Complete, 2021, Locked]

The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb. Three adults who certainly proved this was true, and their (sort of) children who realised a family isn't always linked by blood. Also known as, how Abby, Bee and Wymack earned their family's love and trust.

tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: internalized homophobia

Art

Abby and Betsy art by @rainbowd00dles 

Betsy 💕💕 art by @neroholik

Mom and Dad and Mom art by @llstarcasterll

Betsy and Abby 💖 art by @jeannemaybedarc

Betsy Dobson cosplay by @/toobeetofunction on instagram

@drbetsydobson instagram account/moodboard

[chopper-base]

Plan 99

Day 7 of @tbb-appreciation-week

I will be posting the days I missed. I just need to get my shit together.

MAJOR SEASON 2 FINALE SPOILERS

Summary: Tech finds himself alive but in the empires hands. Extremely injured and alone, he can only hope his brothers managed to escape as he fights to escape with the help of a brother long lost.

Prompts: Fix-it, nightmare

Warnings: A lot of blood, body disfiguration, nightmare, graphic character death in nightmare, non-consensual body modification, trauma, major injury

(Pls let me know if there are other tags I need to add!!!)

Chpt1 | Chpt2

Chapter 1

"Plan 99."

Tech had calculated every possible outcome to his current situation, and in every one, his team, his brothers plummeted to their death. He knew there wasn't a scenario that he made it back up to the rail car. He knew one way or another, he was going to fall. He made his decision without a second thought; he wasn't going to let his family fall with him. The fear in Wrecker and Omega's voices was prominent, weighing heavily on him.

"Don'tchu do it, Tech,"

Tech knew under Wrecker's helmet, he was watching him, his eyes pleading. He knew the realization was setting in on his brother as Tech raised his blaster, "When have we ever followed orders?"

Everything seemed to slow as he pulled the trigger, the blast hitting its mark, severing the connection between the railcars. The line kept him tethered to the plummeting car, Tech now free falling, his eyes glued to his brother's armored form growing smaller and smaller as he disappeared into the fog below. Wrecker's devastated scream burned into his mind as the wind whistled past him, the reality of his situation finally fully hitting him. He reached up, turning off his com, not wanting to hear Omega's desperate cries.

Tech always knew death followed the batch everywhere they went. Always sitting in wait, ready to take them and yet, they always found a way back. They always found each other again and they never let the fear of death stop them from completing what they started. But as the ground below grew ever closer, Tech found himself fighting the fate he had accepted merely seconds ago.

The rail car above him was just waiting for the solid ground, waiting to crush the pilot under tons of metal and machinery. Tech reached down, disconnecting his line, trying to position himself away from the car. It was then that Tech finally looked towards the ground, the fog clearing enough for him to see the dense forest below him. Through the mess of branches, he noticed a river, flowing heavily between the thick canopy. He managed to change his trajectory enough to put the river below him but between him and the water was still a whole lot of tree.

He didn't have time to think of how to slow himself down before he hit the first branch, snapping harshly against his thigh. There wasn't time to regret not having armor on his thighs before he was hit by another branch crashing into his side. He never felt the third as his consciousness was ripped from him, leaving his limp body to crash through branch after branch.

Tech awoke seconds later to a burning in his throat, a freezing blanket seemingly wrapped tightly around him. He realized in fear that the burning was water, forcing its way down his throat, filling his aching lungs. The rushing river around him made it almost impossible to tell which was up. He began to kick, swim as hard as he could, hoping to reach the surface. Excruciating pain shot down his right leg the moment he tried to move it. Biting the inside of his cheek to keep from inhaling more water, he continued to kick through the pain. His hand broke the surface first, his head quickly following. He coughed, trying to force the water from his lungs and trying his best to keep more out as the rapids pushed his head below the waves once more. He fought to get his head above the water once more, spotting the edge of the river over the white water rapids that continued to beat down on his already aching body.

His foot brushed against what he assumed was the river bed, trying to use it to push himself towards the shore. The river's rapids began to calm, making it easier for the pilot to swim closer to the edge. He finally began to feel the solid dirt of the river bed as he half crawled half dragged his way out of the river, collapsing in a heap of drenched armor.

He pried his broken helmet off his head, unable to stop the agonizing scream at the burning in his eyes and the sharp pain shooting down his arms. His limited vision was swimming, white spots dancing across what he could see. He started to notice the lack of vision on his right side and it wasn't long before he realized he couldn't see anything out of that eye. He slowly reached up, his finger brushing over his goggles. He let out a pained hiss as his finger met the broken lense, finally realizing his problem. The lenses had shattered and had pierced into his eye.

He pulled the goggle strap over his head, carefully pulling the broken goggles away from his face. He let his arm fall, dropping the goggles falling beside him, trying to breathe through the burn in his chest.

"Well isn't this interesting," a voice called, bringing Tech to turn his head lightly to where it had come from. "Here I thought we were coming to collect a body. This is quite the surprise.”

The next few hours became an unintelligible blur as what Tech assumed to be TK troopers moved him from the river bank onto a transport. His chest burned with every shaky breath he stole of the ship's recycled air. He wasn't sure when it happened but eventually, a mask was placed over his face, breathing becoming ever so slightly easier. Every shaky breath left a painful rattle in his chest, his own wheezing echoing in his mind. There wasn't a single word spoken around him that made sense in his head. The voices sounded as if they were underwater, the slight rocking of the ship causing more nausea to set in. He couldn't bring himself to open his eyes, every movement causing blinding white pain to stab through his eyes. He opted to focus on his breathing, trying to steady the painful intake of oxygen to his burning lungs. He had long forgotten about the pain in his limbs, all his focus on trying to stay awake; to stay alive.

The noise around faded to almost nothing. The hum of the engine vibrating through the ship was the only thing that kept Tech from slipping into the darkness that called to him. Tech didn't know how long he lay there, unable to feel anything but the stinging in his lungs and the cool air that he forced in. Tech couldn't even flinch when a hand landed on his shoulder ever so briefly, his body refusing to respond to any command. The engine must have been shut off at that soothing vibration Tech had been holding onto so tightly vanished. The stretcher he was on began to move, and Tech wished so badly to know where. The air around him became colder, leaving the pilot to hold on to that chilly sensation as he fought to keep that sliver of consciousness. He wasn't sure if he was truly conscious. He couldn't hear a single thing, his eyes refused to open, his burning lungs were the only thing he knew to be true. That question was quickly answered as several hands appeared over his body, moving him. The stretcher beneath him disappeared only to be replaced with a hard surface. Something touched his neck, something he couldn't place. He felt as his last remaining sliver of consciousness began to be torn away from him. As much as he tried to fight it, the darkness enveloped him, swallowing him whole.

"Don'tchu do it, Tech."

Wrecker? Tech looking around him, greeted only by darkness.

"TECH!"

Omega? Her screamed echoed in his head. He turned again, searching for his sister but all he was met with was her terrified screams. He called out to her, his own voice all too loud. He turned one last time to be met with a sight that left him biting back the bike in his throat. Omega's small body lay before him, blood pooling beneath her, staining her blonde hair a dreadful shade of red. He ran towards her, only to realize he wasn't moving. No matter how fast he forced his legs to go, she never got closer. Her eyes were locked on his, terror written on her young features. He couldn't do a thing as he watched that bright light leave her eyes. He watched her body fade away as her name escape his lips in the form of a broken scream.

"Tech."

Another voice echoed around him. He whipped around only to be met with a pair of broken eyes. Crosshair stared at him, unmoving. Blood was streaked across his black imperial armor. A shattered helmet lay discarded at his face.

"I thought we never left our own behind?" Crosshair's voice cracked, broken as he stared at his younger brother. "...why? Why did I get left behind?"

Tech's voice caught in his throat, any hope of an explanation was left to the wind.

Crosshair stared at him, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, leaving it to dribble off his chin. "You abandoned me."

Tech couldn't even bring himself to cry, watching as his brother broke before him. Those once sharp eyes now held nothing but pain. He too began to fade, leaving Tech to reach out for him, his mouth open in a silent scream that never came.

The ground beneath him seemed to fade, leaving Tech to plummet down. A painted sky of red formed above him as he fell. Clouds of a sickly gray dotted the bloody sky, staring down at him as he fell. His back hit something solid, leaving him trying to scramble back to his feet. He froze as he noticed the scene that surrounded him. His squad, his brothers lay scattered around him. Their bodies bloodied, disfigured in all the worst ways. Their glazed eyes were all pointed at him, driving daggers into his soul.

He fell back to his knees, blood soaking through his blacks, staining his white armor red. His eyes fell on the small body between his brothers. Omega's limbs were bent in directions they should have never been able to, blood flowing freely out of her mouth. Her eyes. Those young innocent eyes stared right back at him. Her mouth was open in a terrified scream that never came. The scene around him began to vanish, leaving Tech to stare at where his Vod'ika once lay. He opened his mouth, a broken screaming echoing around him. He screamed until he couldn't, leaving him to curl in on himself, sobs wracking his body.

Why couldn't he have saved them? Why wasn't he able to save his family?!

Tech's eyes flew open only to be squeezed shut immediately at the pain that flared through his entire body. He wasn't sure how much time had passed, only that he felt too much all too quickly. His entire body seemed to spasm as pain ripple through his chest leaving him wanting to scream only to choke. Something had been shoved down his throat, forcing him to breathe. Tech was able to force his eyes open again just enough to see light. He was floating. Something was suspending him from above and it was then Tech recognized the cool liquid that was surrounding him. He forced his eyes open a little farther, recognizing the transparisteel of a bacta tank surrounding him. He stared at the blurry room before him, unable to place how he ended up here. His vision was limited, leaving Tech to focus on the confusion of his whereabouts. His vision on his right side seemed… wrong. Colors seemed to register differently on his right side which led to more confusion. He attempted to move his hand towards his face only to be met with pain rippling up his body in excruciating waves. His entire body felt as if liquid fire had been pumped through his veins. He choked around the tube in his throat, wanting nothing more in that moment than to be able to scream. His chin fell against his chest, his eyes screwed shut. He fell limp, letting that karking tube push and pull air from his burning lungs. He pried his eyes back only to wish he didn't. He had been stripped of his blacks, leaving him feeling exposed. But what had him forcing back the bile in his throat was his leg. His right leg was gone, leaving a metal prosthetic in its place. The skin around the prosthetic was red and swollen, the tortured nerve endings leaving him to stare in what could only be described as horror. He forced his gaze away, trying to assess the rest of his body. His entire body was littered with scars, some he recognized from previous missions, and some that clearly were still healing. The pain slowly subsided as did what consciousness he had. He only caught a glimpse of a person entering the room before he found himself fully enveloped in the darkness.

[acourtofladydeath]

Take These Broken Wings: All Your Life

It's here folks, the climax of this story. Cassian follows through on his plan, causing a cascade of events throughout the House of Wind. Azriel’s life will never be the same.

This chapter includes blood, self harm, self mutilation, graphic depictions of self harm, panic attacks, and dissociation. New tags have been added on AO3 for this chapter, please read them in their entirety before you proceed.

Please consider your own health before and as you read.

If you or someone you know are struggling, there are resources that can help. You are not alone, and things will get better even if it doesn't feel like it right now.

My overwhelming gratitude to @pippsmcgee, @chunkypossum, @secret-third-thing, and @queercontrarian for their constant support and assistance editing this chapter.

Start reading "All Your Life" below the cut, or on AO3.

The air in Nesta and Cassian’s room was stiff and suffocating. Before the attack, they’d slept every night with the window spanning the length of their bedroom cracked open. Given the location of the house and the nature of its residents, almost every room had a window that opened large enough to fit a person through. Now the windows were closed16973, much like Cassian’s demeanor since the trial. Not being awoken by a cool mountain breeze had been an adjustment for Nesta, and the implications of its absence choked off what little air remained. 

“Are you sure you don’t want me to get someone to stay with you?” Nesta asked Cassian for what felt like the hundredth time. Gwyn needed her urgent assistance in the library on a task for Merrill, and it would be the first time Cassian had been alone since the trial. They still hadn’t talked about what happened that day. 

“No, I’ll be fine,” Cassian responded from his seat by the window. The view before him was full of snow-capped peaks, freshly kissed by the rising sun. He didn’t look up as Nesta walked over to kiss his forehead in goodbye. Cassian flinched away just as her lips touched his skin. It was subtle, but Nesta felt it all the same. 

She pulled her hand back from his shoulder and tucked it into the small pocket of her dress. Nesta clenched her hidden fist hard enough to feel the bite of her nails as they pressed through the soft flesh of her palm. Nesta secretly hoped that maybe a moment alone would help Cassian work through some of… well, whatever he was thinking. 

Cassian just gazed after the clouds that floated by, his eyes full of an emotion that Nesta couldn’t quite place. She walked toward the door and looked back, only for a moment, and took in her mate. Her eyes glanced at the disheveled bed where Cassian had lain for a greater part of the past days before skating across the braces on his wings to gaze upon his quiet façade. 

“I’ll be gone for less than an hour, okay?” She didn’t tell him how to contact her. He knew how, but Nesta knew he wouldn't. Cassian had barely spoken to her. She couldn’t blame him, not after everything the Camp Lord’s had said about him and forced Nesta and Azriel to reveal.

“I love you, Cassian.” 

Uneasy about Cassian’s potential response, Nesta quickly left for the library. Something inside her twisted, and she wondered if she had made the right decision. 

When the door closed, Cassian forced himself to gaze unseeingly out the window for a minute longer. She couldn’t know, couldn’t suspect. It would ruin everything. Once he was sure he could no longer hear her footsteps, Cassian stood on unsteady feet and walked toward his bedside table. 

Inside were the vials of medication that Madja and the healers had been using to try and piece his body back together. But what did any of it matter if his soul was broken? What good were their attempts to heal him if he had no heart left to try and survive? If he couldn’t be a male worthy of the people he loved most?

No, Cassian thought as he shook his head. He didn’t want to die- he had too much to live for. But he couldn’t live like this anymore. Not as a broken, cripple of an Illyrian, forced to carry the weight of his failures on his back every day. Cassian had to cure himself of this sickness, and so they had to go. 

His wings had to go. 

Cassian’s hands shook. He knew what he wanted to do, what he had to do, but the task was still monumental. A curse slipped from his lips as Cassian nervously fumbled the vials. There were only two he needed… one of which he’d stowed away for this exact purpose. The drawer contained so many concoctions that the healer hadn't noticed the extra he’d included.

His healing journey had not been easy. Madja explained early on that the sheer amount of damage meant large masses of scar tissue would accumulate through his wings as they healed. The best way to treat them and prevent further loss of function would be to regularly remove the accumulated scar tissue. Every day since, the healers cut into his wings and carefully stitched them back together, over and over again.  Madja and the other healers used faebane to slow the healing process and decrease the amount of scarring left. During each procedure, they massaged and manipulated the incisions to slow the scar tissue. The process was incredibly painful, but the pain wasn’t what scared Cassian.

He could handle pain.

What he couldn't handle was the absolute failure he had become. He’d failed his mate and Azriel when he’d allowed those Lords to take stock of their private relationship in front of Windhaven. He’d failed his soldiers when he’d allowed his personal feelings to come in the way of being their general. He’d failed Devlon when he let the male fight for him instead of defending Devlon’s life, telling him to run. He’d failed Rhysand, robbed him of a functional General of the Night Court with wings to command the Illyrian legions. And he’d failed himself from the second he let his guard down and thought he might be able to find common ground with the other Camp Lords. 

A moment later, Cassian found the bottles he needed. He’d carefully planned and managed to convince each new healer that the last bottle was gone so they would send for more. In the week since the trial, Cassian had siphoned off bits of the faebane to a separate vial when he took each dose. He’d taken less than he was supposed to in an attempt to amass enough for his plan to work. Between what he’d saved before and the new vial the healer had dropped off at his session last night, Cassian finally had enough. 

As he tucked both vials into his pants pocket with trembling fingers, Cassian took one last longing look out his bedroom window toward the sky. Toward the sanctuary he’d never be able to visit again. 

Nesta wouldn’t be gone any longer than absolutely necessary, so Cassian had to work quickly. His hands shook as he worked the harness around his wings. He’d made sure Madja and the other healers trained him to take them off without assistance. He’d assured them it was only in case of emergency, but he’d known it was all leading to this moment. 

It took him longer than he wanted to admit to remove each brace from his wings. Knowing he didn’t have much time left, Cassian stripped his shirt and laid it next to the braces on the bed. But he took the time to do one more thing. With his shaking fingers, Cassian wrote a short note for Nesta and Azriel, which he placed between the braces where they were sure to see it. 

As he left the room, Cassian pulled an oiled sword from the wall beside the door. Unsteady feet carried him to the bathroom down the hall, his useless wings dragging on the floor behind him. He wouldn’t sully his and Nesta’s bathroom with this act. And besides, he needed to be able to lock her out and this bathroom was easier to blockade. 

Cassian stumbled into the bathroom, still not used to the weight of his limp wings behind him. He placed the sword on the sink counter and stared himself down in the stone-ensconced mirror for a few seconds. Before he could second guess himself, Cassian shut and locked the door. Moments later, he’d stacked a sturdy trunk, a pair of shelves, and any other moveable piece of furniture in front of the single door into the bathroom. 

This bathroom was relatively small compared to the one connected to his bedroom, and though he’d moved most of the furniture there wasn’t much room to maneuver. A bath took up most of the wall behind him. To his left, though he dared not look through it, was a large window. The light that shone in through the panes danced across the blade before him tauntingly.

Even though he was certain that this was the right decision, none of this was easy. Cassian’s ragged breathing sawed out of his chest as he approached the vanity. With one hand he fumbled in his pocket and drew out the two vials full of faebane. 

It should be enough. It had to be enough. 

Cassian looked up at his haggard reflection in the mirror for a moment. He took in the bags under his eyes, the atrophy in his muscles from being bed-bound and injured, and the sallow skin from his lack of regular sun exposure. His once vibrant curls hung limp and greasy on his face. And his wings- one of the great prides of his life- now hung weak and lifeless off his back, as if they were part of his broken soul. Cassian had to cut them off before they infected him further.

He took one shaky deep breath and as he exhaled slowly, Cassian cut off his bond to Nesta completely. For the past several minutes he’d been pulling away slowly, not enough to notice, but hopefully enough that his complete separation took more time to register. I’ll come back to you, he thought, this is all so I can come back to you, to both of you. With sturdier hands, Cassian uncorked and downed both bottles of Faebane quickly. And before he had another moment to think, he lifted his sword. 

Bracing one hand tightly on the sink, Cassian hefted the weapon up and over his shoulder, placing it at the base of his wing joint, closed his eyes, and began to cut.

Continue the chapter on AO3.

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