#recovery fan fiction

[daflangstlairde-art]

Gladiator (What if I Can't Let Go?), part 4 of the series I Still Feel Alive, is officially finished! At 43,624 words.

And so is the series! At 190,347 words.

I Still Feel Alive series summary:

Leo's stay in the Prison Dimension was not only longer, but a lot more painful, with only the company of a violent alien and the ghost of his future self. Miraculously, however, he survived, and his family got him out in the end. But then he—and the ghost—find they have to actually face and process the hardships they've endured. Along the way, they have to learn how to hold onto hope; how trauma most often affects you after the fact; how to be vulnerable and connect with your loved ones; what real strength is; and how to move on and live, amongst other things.

Feat. a lot of bad jokes.

Gladiator (What if I Can't Let Go?) work summary:

On pawns and queens, rabbits and wolves, and becoming the monsters that haunt us. Or, Leo has developed plenty of pretty good coping mechanisms, he needs to fulfill his quota on the bad ones. Anything to fill the absence that awaits him. Or, “Everything I've ever let go of has claw marks on it.” —David Foster Wallace

Writing Masterpost

[nehswritesstuffs]

HEART PIRATES WEEK 2024 - Day 2 of 9

I told myself last year that I was going to participate in Heart Pirates Week this year, and by thunder I'm going to participate in Heart Pirates Week!

Day Two: Shachi - Celebration

472 words; this prompt’s potential sfw disqualifier is swearing, but it’s no different from what you’d hear in middle/high school, so there’s that; this came so late bc I was very cocky and did not finish the draft in time for the whirlwind of the past few days I’ve had so my apologies; still very, very not beta’d, so don’t be surprised if this tweaks slightly later

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

He did it. The bastard actually fucking did it.

Okay, sure, he’d had his doubts about the plan from the get-go, something that had seemingly been cobbled together on a whim but Shachi knew was much older than that. It made sense that people who became Warlords did so for their own reasons, and not all of them pleasant, but after what Blackbeard had pulled in Impel Down and Marineford, one would think that the military was about to vet their candidates a bit better…

…and as it turned out, the bullying that Law did was barely even necessary. They were getting so strapped for bodies in the seats that they were more than willing to negotiate.

“Way to go, Captain!” Shachi cheered, knocking his tankard into his crewmates’ as they finished another toast. “Now we’ve got a universal pass to do whatever we want!”

“No, we don’t,” Law reminded him, the man sourly bunched up at the end of the table. Most of the crew was there and it was clearly making the room feel way too small. “As long as we don’t piss off the Government while doing shit for them, we’ve got a conditional pass. I still need to build the clout to get to where we need to go.”

“Always such a grump,” Shachi huffed. “Why are you like this?”

“Like what?” Law scowled.

“Always being gloomy before you know what the weather is—you haven’t changed since we were kids.”

“Can you blame me?”

“Yes.” Shachi stood and, after finding his balance, caught Penguin’s eye on the other side of the mess hall. “Oi! Peng! Cap’s got a lot to celebrate, doesn’t he?!”

“What… you mean more than strong-arming himself into the Shichibukai…?”

“Duh… like… literally everything!”

“Alright,” Law sighed, “you’ve had too much to drink.”

“Pshaw—as if,” Shachi scoffed. He threw an arm around Law’s shoulders and leaned into him. “I’m only four drinks in. I can go all night.”

“Can you not go while hanging all over me?”

“…and miss embarrassing you? No fucking way.” He gave his captain—who by all accounts was basically his younger brother at this point—a shit-eating grin. It was easy to imagine they were teenagers again, fresh off their first “fundraising” raid and so high on adrenaline they were all practically vibrating out of their skin.

…but now? While they had a Warlord to celebrate? The crew was going to fucking party until they couldn’t anymore and nothing was going to stop them, Shachi was going to make sure of it. He downed the rest of his beer and took his weight off Law. “Who’s up for another round?!”

Everyone in the mess hall, aside from Law, cheered. Shachi could see his captain’s face grow a little darker in blush and he knew he fucking nailed it.

[blitzsicedcoffee]

Chapter 1: "Just Hanging Out"

Summary: After the events of Apology Tour and the rest of Season 2, Blitz and Stolas decide to try a real relationship. But how much do they really know about each other? And how much of each other's past are they willing to endure?

Notes: I just had to write this whole summary again so I am tired. I have not had much motivation recently so these chapter releases will be slow.

[megsiepoo]

            "You were right, Shamura. I was greedy and careless. I didn't care what it took to get what I wanted back then. And what's worse, I hurt you too. I cannot hate you without hating myself in turn. I don't want to hate you." He gave a gentle smile, reaching up with one hand to wipe their tears. "Our whole family has made tragic decisions in the past. We’ve all hurt each other irreparably. I'd much rather spend the rest of our lives together being happy and rebuilding the bonds we once had." Shamura sagged as they released a shuddering sigh, nodding their head numbly.             "Yes, yes I would quite like that. I do not understand your relationship with the Lamb, but it brings me immense joy to see you, not only happy, but at peace. And I consider it a blessing simply to be part of your life again." They clapped their hands together, a bright smile returning to their face. "Now! Let's get you ready!"

Yee new fic up! I don't think I'm very good at fluff, but this was just a fun idea. Can't have happy good times without a little angst though!

Hope you guys enjoy! Feedback appreciated as always

[starlight-and-whiskey]

More People than Ghosts: Ch3 On the Wind

"On the wind the wolves are howling She cries 'they're drawing near' Turn around, turn around, my darling. No, the wolves are here"

- The Wolves • Watchhouse

Reminder for 18+ Part 1 Part 2 Part 4

A sense of accomplishment flooded Eleanor’s veins; a grin plastered on her face and her arms weaved around Arthur’s waist as she settled behind him atop his mare. She’d not managed to kill a thing while they’d been out hunting, but she’d gone out. She’d laughed, and for a few hours, she’d forgotten.

The day’s moments played over in her head on repeat. Arthur’s hand moving from her shoulder to fold around her waist, bracing her for the recoil. His lips so close to her neck that she could feel the warm puff of his breath against her jaw, could smell that comforting heavy musk of campfire smoke and tanned leather.

"Breathe slowly. Don’t snatch at the trigger.”

"Thank you", she beamed, giving his waist a gentle squeeze. Eleanor could feel the deep rumble of a chuckle through his back and smiled a little wider.

"Ain't nothing. You did good".

They'd been riding almost an hour when Arthur pulled his horse to a stop, keen eyes surveying the horizon.

"What is it?" She asked, unease tingeing her voice as she peered around his broad shoulder to look out across the hills.

"Storms coming in." He said, pointing to the distance. "See?"

She followed his finger to the looming dark cloud rolling steadily towards them, engulfing the sky. A distant rumble of thunder cascaded down the hills in warning.

"Looks bad. We'd better make camp. Ain't gonna get too much further before it hits."

Every last inch of self-confidence that the hunting trip had bolstered suddenly melted away as Eleanor scanned their surroundings, eyes wide. Making camp out in the plains? She couldn't. Leaving camp had been enough of a hurdle, but sleeping out? The last time she'd made camp they'd come for her. Smack in the middle of the night, being dragged from pleasant slumber by the rip of slashing knives through canvas, the glint of a blade against her throat as she struggled to separate dream from reality. Too scared to scream, to fight. And then…

"I can't..." she murmured quietly, her muscles frozen.

Arthur twisted to look over his shoulder, a hand absently falling over hers as it rested on his side, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"You can”, he nodded assertively. “I'm right here. You don't wanna be outside when that storm comes."

"I-"

"Do you trust me?"

She opened her mouth but no sound came out.

"Do you trust me?" He repeated, firmer.

Eleanor forced her eyes to meet his.

"Yes."

"OK, let's move." Arthur pulled Eleanor's arm tighter around his waist, holding her hand firmly at his naval as he kicked in his heels and spurred the horse on in search of a decent spot to make camp.

***

"Here's a good spot", Arthur said more to himself than to her, swinging himself down off his horse with measured ease. When he extended a hand up, Eleanor hesitated. He offered it again, nodding with eyebrows raised. You can do this.

As Arthur hammered in the last few pegs, spots of rain had already started to fall, the light becoming engulfed by dense black clouds.

Working quickly, Arthur set up his bedroll and blanket, holding open the flap of the tent. When Eleanor remained rooted to the spot, Arthur's eyes drifted to her shaking hands, and felt his heart squeeze. "Go on now. Don't be getting wet".

Wordlessly, Eleanor complied, crawling inside the small tent before Arthur followed, tying up the entrance tight against the howling wind.

Arthur searched for words, something to soothe her but came up blank as she sat awkwardly in the dim light, knees pulled up to her chest, wide eyes fixed on the entrance to the tent as if in a trance. As the moments passed, the temperature continued to drop, the rain coming thick and fast.

Eleanor flinched when something brushed her shoulder, snapping her from hideous memories. It had only been Arthur, tenderly draping the faded blanket around her shoulders.

"You were shaking", he reasoned quietly.

"Oh."

They huddled inside, sides almost touching in the cramped space as flashes of lightning illuminated the inside of the small tent, rain pounding hard on the canvas. At the deafening rumble of thunder, she flinched, nervous fingers fisting at the blanket, gripping it tight around her chest.

"It was storming when they took me", she said quietly, her voice barely audible over the pounding rain. "Couldn't hear a thing save for the rain. Couldn't see them in the dark. They just sliced open my tent and..."

Arthur remained silent as she trailed off, her stare never moving from the knots holding the tent flaps closed, tears welling in her glistening blue eyes.

"I used to love thunderstorms. They even took that from me."

Her now healed wrists ached something fierce, as though bound again in invisible shackles. She could smell the musty scent of mildew that had mottled the damp wooden walls of her small confines.

As her breathing quickened in her chest, Eleanor clawed at the soft grass beside the bedroll, focusing hard on the smell of Arthur inches from her in an attempt to ground herself.

You're not there. You're safe.

Soft grass. Black coffee. Tanned leather.

You're safe.

A flash of lightning lit up the tent for a brief moment, and Arthur recognised that wild, terrified look in her eyes once again.

You're with Arthur. You're safe. Soft grass. Campfire smoke. Sweet tobacco. You're-

When the closely chasing crash of thunder echoed suddenly through the surrounding woodland, Eleanor let out a small whimper through tightly clenched lips as the tears spilled over, curling further in on herself as vivid memories crashed over her like a tidal wave, threatening to swallow her whole.

Without thinking, Arthur wrapped his arms around her shaking body, pulling her firmly into his chest. To his surprise, she didn't recoil, instead grabbing at his jacket with shaking hands and burying her face into his shirt.

"You're okay" He whispered, pressing his lips into the curls of her hair as he cradled her head with a broad hand, his other arm wound tight around her shuddering frame. "Ain't no one gonna hurt you with me here."

Arthur heard the unmistakable hitching of breath devolving into wracking sobs as she finally broke down, his shirt quickly dampened with hot tears. It only served to make him grip tighter. "Shhh. You're alright. I got'cha. It's okay...you're okay."

They stayed that way for a long while, Arthur cradling her against his firm chest, rocking gently and humming a sweet melody until the thunder began to slowly creep away.

"Feel so stupid", she mumbled against the wet patch of his shirt, fingers finally loosening their grip. Her entire body ached, her head pounding.

Arthur smiled sadly, whispering into her hair. "Ain't stupid."

Gently, he pulled back, his calloused palm tenderly cupping her jaw to lift her face up, all red and blotchy. "You look exhausted", he said quietly, brushing away the last streaks of tears on her hot cheeks. "Still not sleeping?"

"No", she whispered, eyes averting his gaze.

Arthur's hand squeezed her arm. "Come on, lay down."

When she hesitated, Arthur nodded briskly. "I'll stay awake. You'll be safe."

Exhaustion finally won out and she complied, awkwardly laying back on the bedroll as Arthur wrapped the now fallen blanket over her.

"Would..." Eleanor began, before trailing off, puffing out a sheepish sigh and shaking her head.

"Hm?"

"No, it's nothing."

"Would what?"

"Would you hold me?" She asked meekly, feeling more like a child than she had done in decades.

Arthur smiled solemnly, brushing back her hair. "Sure."

Eleanor heard the comforting sound of Arthur's soft sigh as he lay next to her, shuffling to make more room for his hulking frame.

Despite her stinging eyes, Eleanor fought to keep them open, curling into Arthur's chest as he wound a strong arm around her shoulders, his other arm resting on her waist.

"I used to be scared of the dark", Arthur said quietly against the dark, his chin resting on the top of her head. "Back when my momma died."

Eleanor's brow furrowed, focusing on his whispered words and the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath her cheek.

"I was 5, maybe 6. She got real sick. My daddy, well... he weren't good for much." Arthur licked his lip, pausing for a moment and focussing on the drum of raindrops above them.

"He used to hurt my momma. She tried to hide it o'course, but I knew. Then when she died, he didn't have anyone to hurt anymore. 'Cept me."

"This one time, he-" Arthur cleared his throat, a little taken aback at how easily the words were spilling from his gut. He'd never told anyone before. Not Dutch. Not Hosea. Not even Mary. "He locked me in the closet. Slid a broom handle through the fixings and left...  Nearly three damn days I was stuck in there. Alone. In the dark. Felt like a lifetime."

Eleanor felt Arthur's adams apple bob as he swallowed thickly.

"I'm sorry", she whispered against his chest.

Arthur pursed his lips and pushed out a slow, steady breath, before sniffing hard and clearing his throat.

"Ain't told no one that before."

"Why you telling me?" Arthur's arms wound a little tighter around her body, wetting his bottom lip with the tip of his tongue.

"Thought it might make you feel a little less alone."

She considered the words for a moment, readjusting her body to press a little closer against Arthur's, giving him a subtle squeeze.

"Thank you."

[king-starscreams-fics]

Brain Fog

Megatron is recovering post surgery in the quarters that he shares with Optimus in their new lunar base. He has taken to writing, which has acted as an escape from his situation. Enter a new, hidden menace: Brain Fog.

Written for prompt 17 of Sicktember 2024: Brain Fog/Spaced Out – submitted early as per reasons given in the A/N.

Rating: General Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: M/M

Fandoms: Transformers Generation One Transformers - All Media Types

Relationship: Megatron/Optimus Prime

Characters: Megatron (Transformers) Optimus Prime

Additional Tags: early sicktember; Sicktember 2024; Brain Fog; Shock; Grief/Mourning; post operation; Recovery

Language: English

Stats:

Published: 2024-07-12

Words: 2,447

Chapters: 1/1

Stories list

[justalittleconfusing]

I am going to do something hard tonight. I am going to tell my story of being a survivor to try to influence my local school district policy for how they handle threats and violence against girls.

I spend the last three days reading incredible works by @corneliaavenue-ao3 and @whinlatter and @seriouslysam8 and @takearisk-ao3 and many others. And I know it may sound silly, but in the darkness of the night when I was debating if I should open these wounds, do I tell my story publicly and risk more shunning and ridicule, I found hope in reading versions of Ginny in these womens’ stories.

I think many of us who experienced things as younger girls are drawn to the character Ginny. We see Ginny’s survival after the chamber - how she never forgot, “lucky you”, but how she was able to forge forward and keep fighting as a role model and a path forward.

As a child of the 80s and 90s, we didn’t have role models of successfully speaking up. There was no Me too. We saw women who spoke up (Anita Hill, Monica Lewinsky, so many others) publicly shamed and torn down and ripped to shreds while the men who hurt them got to keep power.

It’s still going on. We are told it’s okay to “grab them by the pussy”, you can still be president. We are seeing Feminist become a dirty word. But at least now, more of us are sharing our stories and saying this stops with me. This isn’t okay and isn’t right. Change needs to come.

In Ginny, see saw the basilisk get slayed, our girl gets her dreams. Our girl is a warrior who goes on to live her dreams of being a sports star and live for herself. She married for love, has her family, has a career, and finds happiness and peace and love. The trauma may be there but it doesn’t define you.

And so, after reading all that Fan fiction and remembering the women who wrote it, and how so many of them have stories like mine, I am going to publicly speak at a school board meeting tonight. I am going to tell my story and try to stop the next generation from having to be forged in fire. I am going to say what’s wrong publicly and loudly and with all my heart.

Thank you to the writers.

[thatphantomtroupelady]

~A WEB OF GUILT~

Ingredients: kurapika x leorio, depression, alcoholism, recovery, hurt/comfort, angst

A one-shot with Kurapika having a bad case of revengicitis and Leorio subsequently having had enough of him pushing everyone away

word count: 1.5k

"I'll not be able to attend Killua's birthday party." Kurapika sighed, sitting down on the couch beside him. "I'm sorry but I have work to do. It was hard enough to find time for this meeting."

"Seriously, Kurapika?" Leorio frowned. "And what does that work include, huh? Blackmailing more people?"

Kurapika sucked in a sharp breath. "Yes." His eyes grew foggy. "Perhaps it does."

"Kurapika." Leorio shifted closer to him. "Kurapika, look at me."

"I-"

"Just do it."

Kurapika slowly raised his eyes to his.

"Have you ever stopped to think that maybe your clan would have never wanted you to turn out like this? Really, if someone else had survived instead of you, would you have wanted this path for them?" Leorio took his friend by the shoulders. "Be truthful."

"I wish..." Kurapika lowered his gaze once more. "I wish the Spiders killed me too. So I could die with them in peace."

"Kurapika." Leorio's voice softened. "That's... that's a normal thought, you know. Sometimes, when it gets so hard, I start wishing the same. That doesn't mean it's okay though."

"Nothing's okay, Leorio. Nothing." A stary tear trickled down his cheek, dripping onto the cheap leather of the couch. "Everything's so screwed. I'm so screwed. If only I would have killed the Spiders back in York New City I- it would have been so much better. If the fucking Spiders hadn't killed my clan in the first place, everything would have been so fucking better."

"You can't change the past, Kurapika. But you can change the future. I want you to-"

"There's nothing left for me." Kurapika lashed out, getting up to turn away from him. "Nothing." His breath came out in irregular gasps. "My clan is dead. And soon, I'll die too. That's it-"

I'm here for you, Leorio wanted to scream, yet nothing came out. Instead, he felt a sudden heat of emotion in his chest. Sadness? Anger? Rushing forward, he grabbed Kurapika and pinned him to the wall with a kiss. Hard. Angry. Compassionate.

As the shock passed away, Kurapika shoved him back. "No." He whispered, wiping his lips with trembling hands.

Leorio suddenly felt ashamed. "I just-"

"Get out." Kurapika whispered, shaking his head as he struggled to breathe. "Leave."

"Kurapika, just listen to me-"

"Fuck. Off."

With tight shaking fists, Leorio walked out of the hotel.

_____

It had been a week since then, and Leorio couldn't stop thinking about it. He could barely sleep, tossing and turning all night- thinking about what he could do for his friend- or more than that? Was he more than that? Wasn't that just a hurried move? He had not truly meant the kiss part, had he?

The next morning, Leorio decided to quit running away from his problems. When dialling Kurapika's number didn't work, he drove back to the shabby hotel.

"Is Kurapika still registered in Room 203?"

The receptionist gave him a disgusted look. "Oh yea. Him. He's still here." Rolling her eyes, she turned back to the computer. "All I keep seeing from him are booze orders, booze orders, and booze orders." She dramatically counted on her fingers.

Leorio fought the urge to punch her. Or punch anything in general. Especially Kurapika.

Running up to his room, he knocked on the door. "Open up, you idiot!" When that didn't work, he tried the handle of the door. Easily, it bowed down.

"Hey! Why the fuck is the door unlocked, huh?!" Leorio yelled, entering the room. "You even there?"

His gaze travelled through the gray cement walls, the empty couch, and the herd of empty cans and bottles covering the ground. "Seriously, you drank this much in just a week?"

"Gosh this place stinks." He muttered. Failing to find him in the kitchen and the bedroom, he moved to check the bathroom. And there he finallt found him, curled up on the floor beneath the sink.

"What the fuck?" Leorio cursed under his breath, instantly crouching down to check his pulse. Stable. He had only passed out.

As gently as possible, he carried Kurapika to the bed, laying him on his side. Just in case, he also placed a bucket near him.

While waiting for him to wake up, Leorio decided to start cleaning up the place. There was no room service- guests were expected to clean up after themselves- only a janitor down in the lobby, always to be found sitting in a corner and playing games on his phone. Borrowing a few supplies from him, Leorio got to work.

First, the collection of empty cans and bottles. Tying it all neatly- along with some other trash- in black plastic bags, he carried it out to the dumpster in the back of the building.

"Cleaning up for your friend?" The receptionist rolled her eyes as he passed by. "Oh, how sweet. Or did he just call you over for a clean up?"

"None of your business, hag." Leorio rolled his eyes back at her.

The receptionist smirked.

When he got back up, he found a puddle of vomit underneath Kurapika's face. Cursing himself for ever leaving him alone, he began wiping away at his face and hair. Once satisifed, he carried him over to lie down on the couch instead.

He took off the bedsheet to wash in the sink, wiped the mattress, and continued his flow. After vacuuming the place, helping the unconscious Kurapika throw up once more, and a few smaller chores; Leorio finally settled down on the floor against the couch, feeling quite pleased with himself... but also, hungry.

"Alright, I'll just order takeout." Leorio mumbled to himself.

"Hungry." A weak voice replied back.

Leorio smiled, turning around to face him. "Finally awake now, huh?"

"Leorio..." Kurapika whispered, barely able to even keep his eyes open. "... I'm sorry."

Leorio felt his chest tighten. "We can talk about it later. Do you want some water?"

Kurapika slowly nodded.

By the time Leorio returned from the kitchen, Kurapika had pulled himself together enough to sit up, albeit still needing support from the backrest.

"Drink up."

With a small nod, Kurapika took the glass in his shaking hands. Leorio watched carefully as Kurapika drank it, ready to catch the glass during a potential slip of hands.

Kurapika returned the glass and curled up further into himself, anticipating another argument.

Instead, Leorio gently prompted. "Do you want to talk?"

Kurapika stared at his knees. "Maybe."

"Okay." Taking a deep breath Leorio sat down beside him, further away than he'd have liked. But he should give him space. "So... to be blunt, I think you should stop with your whole mission and find something better to do with your life. Thoughts?"

Kurapika back bowed further, nose touching the knees. "It'd be a betrayal." He whispered.

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because, and get this in your head, it's not your fault. It's not your fault the Spiders did what they did. Even if you were with them at the time, you would not have been able to save them. Yeah?"

Kurapika suddenly looked angry. "Yeah? What, yeah? You're doing the exact same thing I am- dedicating your life to lost loved ones. You're only working so hard to be a doctor because you feel guilty about letting your friend die."

"You're wrong."

"No."

"Yes." Leorio clenched his hands into a tight fist, digging them into his thighs. "There's a huge difference between what I'm doing and what you are. You wanna know? Sure. You're avenging the dead while I'm making sure what happened doesn't happen again. If I would be going for revenge like you are, I would have been trying to kill the doctors or politicians or whoever due to whom my friend wasn't able to get medical attention. But instead, I'm going to be a doctor. I'm going to be a good change in the world. It's a much less selfish cause than yours is."

"What now..." Kurapika's eyes dimmed. "You expect me to do what then? Be a bounty hunter? That's no better-"

"You're missing my point, Kurapika. If you really wanna deal with your guilt, you should do it in a healthy way. Being a bounty hunter isn't a healthy way either, at least for you. You could... you could maybe help conserve other small clans like yours?" Leorio smiled, proud of his own ideas. "Yeah yeah yeah! You could totally do that, Kurapika! It won't be easy to let go of your habits but won't it be a much better way to honor their memory?"

"...and the scarlet eyes? I should just let them stay in their dirty hands? And the Spiders... they should just- just roam around freely?"

"No."

"Then-"

"You will do all of that too. But not alone, Kurapika. Never alone again. We'll figure something out. There's Gon and Killua too. I bet they're way stronger now. We could add more people in the group. It'd work out, I promise. We'll do both the Spiders and scarlet eyes thing, and the clan saving thing. Just don't- just don't drift away."

"I don't want to involve-"

"Kurapika, we're friends. That's what friends do!"

Kurapika closed his eyes, taking a deep shaky breath. "Just friends?" He turned to look at him, a small smile on his lips.

"Is that- is that a... yes?"

Kurapika's smile widened and that was all the confirmation Leorio needed.

[summersnow82]

Oh, the Turtles You'll Meet: Part 7 of That Familiar Feeling

Or....

Leo does a deep dive into his counterpart's memories, and here we are. Enjoy.

Fanfiction_TMNT Bayverse/ 2003 crossover

Author’s note: Part 7 of That Familiar Feeling. Hello, my lovelies. Thank you for reading. I've got a few other fics I've been neglecting, so it may take a bit to get the next part written. Please bear with me.

.....

The first time they’d laid eyes on her she’d been an open wound; a massive, bloody, pulpy mess they could barely distinguish as female. The whirling vortex spit her out into the lab like it was trying to remove a bad taste from it’s mouth. Her body slapped against the ground, a motionless heap, and the portal closed; it’s business was complete.

The autodocs had their work cut out for them, and as Donnie was quick to note, had they been in another time with lesser technology they would’ve been burying a body instead of trying to heal one. It was weeks before she began to look human again, and even then Donnie cautioned against lowering the force field. Until she was stable he refused to move her.

“Do you think she’ll ever wake up?” Leo asked one morning as Donnie was running his ritual diagnostics.

“The autodocs have done some amazing work,” Donnie said, his hand waving over the tablet in his hand. “I think she’s got a chance.”

“I still say we shoulda dropped her at the hospital,” Raph grumbled. Leo said nothing, but he knew Raph was still grumpy over their experience with Dark Leo.

“She came out of a portal, Raph. That doesn’t intrigue you just a little?” Donnie asked.

Raph shrugged. “More like what happened to get her in that kinda condition in the first place. I mean, what the shell happened to her?”

No one answered that question. They’d seen a lot of terrible things, but nothing like the bloody pulp this woman had once been.

“Once she’s stable I’d like to get her cleaned up,” Donnie said. “The autodocs can only do so much.” He finally raised his eyes from his tablet. His voice sounded tenuous as he asked softly, “Any volunteers?”

Mikey was standing right outside the force field’s barrier. He’d been unusually quiet when it came to their mystery patient. “I’ll do it,” he said, raising a hand to signal Donnie’s attention.

It didn’t surprise any of his brothers when Mikey followed through on his word. Donatello had laid out several thick towels on a stainless steel operating table, and the brothers gingerly transferred their now stable but unconscious house guest onto the towels. Her clothes had been tattered and torn, and there wasn’t much left, so they placed more towels over her body to offer her some privacy. Mikey washed her hair until the water was no longer brown from the caked on blood, and he delicately sponged her body clean. They would later lie and tell her the autodocs were capable of this work to spare her modesty, but if you’d asked Michelangelo he would’ve told you there was nothing remotely arousing about caring for someone so badly abused.

His care for her didn’t end there, though. When she’d finally woken up he’d spent hours outside her locked bedroom door just rambling. He talked about the Silver Sentry, the Turtle Titan, skateboarding, the future, their home in New York, life in the sewers, his favorite pizza – anything to give her a sense she was safe. It was a well known fact people who want to kill you don’t sit outside your door reading you comic books.

At least, that’s what Mikey told his brothers when they’d ask just what the shell he was doing.

Sometimes Cody or Donnie would join him. They all took turns bringing her food, and speaking (or in Raph’s case grunting) through the door, but Mikey was the consistent one. He was the one who heard her crying, or groaning in her sleep, and all too often, he heard her scream. He promised himself then and there he was never going to let anyone else hurt her ever again.

Of course, Mikey was still naive enough to believe every promise made can be kept.

…………..

When she finally did come out of her room for the first time it was when she suspected everyone would be sleeping. She crept around the penthouse taking in her surroundings, and only forgot herself when she looked out the window. The futuristic New York skyline was nothing short of breathtaking, and it was even more incredible at night.

“Pretty, ain’t it?” She spun, pressing her back against the glass, and stared at Raphael. He’d seen the looks before; the fear, the confusion, the disgust. Something about the way this woman was staring at him felt different, though. “I ain’t gonna hurt ya,” he said gently, holding his hands up, and taking a few steps back. “Began to wonder if you were ever coming outta that room. Ya hungry?”

Her eyes narrowed in confusion, and she frowned. “Is this,” her voice came out broken and raspy from disuse, and she swallowed hard. “Is this real? This place? You? Me?”

Raph nodded. “Yup. ‘Fraid so. Not a big fan of the future, but here we are.”

Her frown deepened, and she looked down. “Future,” she murmured. She looked up quickly, her eyes wide with fear. “There was a man,” she started.

“No man. Not here. You don’t gotta worry about him hurting you again. Promise.” Raph clenched his fists as he spoke. He’d had plenty of time to stew over just what kind of torture leaves a human body looking like a bloody wad of meat, and he had strong feelings of retribution.

She shook her head, and he noticed she looked more upset now. “No. There was a man with me. Tall, blonde, blue eyes. He must be here. He has to be.” Her voice was still broken and cracked, but it was getting louder with the stress of her words.

Raph frowned. He wasn’t the best with emotions, and an emotionally distressed woman was out of his wheelhouse. “Listen, lady, I’m tellin’ ya you don’t have to worry about it. You’re safe. There’s no man here.” He took a step forward, and she slammed her back against the glass.

“No no no no no no no no no no,” she cried, thrusting a hand over her mouth to muffle her cries.

He froze, suddenly quite fearful himself. He’d experienced fear before – shell, sometimes he even liked it – but he’d never witnessed anyone this terrified. “I ain’t gonna hurt ya,” he whispered softly, desperately.

She was sliding down the glass window, biting her knuckles to muffle her cries. “He’s dead. Oh my gosh, he’s dead. He’s dead. I can’t, I can’t, I can’t. Oh, God, please no.” Her pleas were rising in volume, and before he could react she bit her knuckle hard enough to draw blood, and let out a devastating wail. Her eyes squeezed shut, and she opened her mouth to scream again.

“Raph, what the shell?” Leo’s eyes were wide as he burst into the room with Splinter and Cody on his heels. Donnie and Mikey were seconds behind, and they all took in the woman before them in the throes of a full blown panic attack. “Miss?” Leo asked softly. He was moving slowly closer to her, and when she realized it she thrust out an arm, and scrambled away until she hit a corner in the wall.

“Don’t touch me, please don’t touch me. Please don’t touch me. Please don’t hurt me.”

“Leo,” Donnie cautioned.

“I won’t touch you,” Leo promised, crouching down to be on her level. “And we won’t hurt you. I promise.” She’d closed her eyes again, and was trying to get control over her labored breathing. “Our autodocs were able to heal you, but you’ve been out for weeks.” He tilted his head. No response. “Is there someone we can call for you?”

She shook her head, but refused to meet his eyes. “I need Sean. I need Sean. He has to be here, but he’s not which means he’s dead, which means they killed him too, which means…,” her voice broke off into a sob, and she buried her face in her hands. “I can’t do this without him,” she whimpered.

“I’m sorry,” Leo said gently. He felt helpless – what could he say to her?

“We could try to locate this Sean for you,” Donnie offered, and once again Leo was thankful his brother was so kind and gentle.

She shook her head. “If he’s not here… if he’s not here,” her voice broke again, and she tucked her knees up to her chin. “I can’t do this without him,” she repeated in a barely audible whisper before her sobs took control again.

………….

It was, unsurprisingly, Master Splinter who was able to calm her down. He moved slowly, kneeling down a foot across from her, and waited. When she did lift her head she gasped, hiccuped, and made a valiant effort to control her breathing. “You are safe here, Miss.”

She swallowed hard, wiped her nose on her sleeve, and nodded. “I know.” She hiccuped again. “Bad guys don’t save a nobody just to kill them later.”

Master Splinter tilted his head to the a touch. “I do not think you are a nobody. I do not think anyone here thinks that.” He paused. “I am called Splinter. These are my sons: Leonardo, Donatello, Michelangelo, and Raphael,” he said, gesturing to each of the turtles. “And this,” he waved a hand towards Cody, “Is Cody Jones, our benefactor, host, and inventor of the technology that saved your life.” He looked back at her, a gentle smile on his furry face. “May I ask what we should call you?”

Her eyes darted to the side, and she gave a shaky exhale. “Sean says we shouldn’t use our real names. It’s not safe, and…,” she stopped herself, and ducked her head again.

Donatello’s brow furrowed. “Does this have anything to do with the whirling vortex that spit you out a few weeks ago?”

She blinked, surprised, and sat up a bit. “I landed here?” They all nodded, and she looked even more surprised.

“We arrived here in a… similar fashion,” Leo said.

“Time travel,” Cody added, moving closer.

She sat up straighter, and her grip relaxed a touch. “You too?” Again, they all nodded.

“Perhaps now you would feel comfortable sharing your name with us,” Master Splinter suggested, but she still seemed hesitant.

“My friends call me Belle,” she said softly, tucking her head back behind her knees.

“It is an honor to finally meet you, Miss Belle,” Splinter said, giving a small bow. “I know you have many questions for us, and we for you. Perhaps this conversation would be more pleasant at the table with some refreshments.”

“I am a little hungry,” she admitted, almost as if she were embarrassed by it.

“I imagine you are. Let’s see what we have.”

She was bashful requesting food, hesitant to lift her head to meet the eyes of those around her, and very wary of any potential contact. She answered questions slowly, cautiously, and as briefly as possible, so Splinter took the opportunity to tell her the story of how he came to be a single father of four turtles, how he named them, taught them, and how they came to be here in the year 2105.

“When your portal opened up there was a spike in the seismic readings. It was brief, and most wouldn’t think anything of it, but I could certainly run a report to see if there have been any other similar spikes. Maybe Sean came after you when it was safer,” Donatello offered. Her eyes remained lowered, but a small smile graced her pale, cracked lips.

“Yes, thank you. I would appreciate that.”

“So this Sean guy’s a friend?” Raph asked, cocking his head to the side. He still felt strangely protective of the meek woman sitting across from him.

“He’s my best friend,” she answered softly. “He’s family.” Mikey noticed how she seemed to shrink further into her chair, and the fat teardrops that rolled silently off her nose onto her clasped hands.

“Here.” He held out a tissue to her, and she swallowed hard, accepting it without meeting his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m not normally like this. Before…,” she choked, and ducked her head trying to regain her composure.

“What did they do to you?” Cody asked softly.

“Cody!”

“Dude!”

“I’m sorry,” Cody said. “I’ve just never seen anything like…,” he trailed off, realizing how his words sounded. “I’m sorry.”

“It is late,” Master Splinter said. “And such matters take time to discuss. Perhaps you will feel comfortable enough to share with us at a later time, but please do not feel pressured.”

She nodded. “I…um…I know I’ve been an inconvenience to all of you. I promise I’ll be out of your hair soon.”

“An inconvenience?” Leo asked, arching an eye ridge, and exchanging looks with his brothers.

“We don’t have hair,” Mikey chirped. “I mean, Cody does, and Master Splinter has fur, but we don’t. Besides, a pretty girl like you is never an inconvenience.”

“I’m not pretty anymore,” she whispered. “Not after what he did to me.”

Again, the turtles exchanged looks, but no one spoke – they didn’t know what to say.

Finally, Cody said, “You’re welcome to stay as long as you need to. It’s been pretty lonely with just Serling and me. I appreciate the company.”

Later, when she was better mentally and physically, she would tell Cody how much his offer meant to her. In that moment though all she could do was bury her face in her hands and cry from relief.

[starlightvld]

Trading Pain for Panacea

Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender Rating: Teen Relationships: Sheith (Shiro/Keith) Chapters: 1/1 * Words: 3,695 * Status: COMPLETE

In a post-war universe in need of healing, Shiro gets sick, muses over his relationship with pain, and comes to some realizations. As always, Keith is there to take care of him.

... As he dragged himself into the apartment he shared with Keith on Atlas, he remembered pain. Every muscle, every ligament ached, and exhaustion weighed him down. Altas hummed in the back of his mind, and pressed forward encouraging thoughts of going to Medical. But Shiro had faced far more painful things than this. Surely he just needed some sleep. He managed to pull off his uniform jacket and collapse on the couch before passing out. He woke to a cool hand pressed against his forehead. "Stubborn man," murmured a voice he'd know anywhere. "Only you could sleep through something like this."

Read on AO3

Written for the @ficwip Hey, Sweetheart 2023 event.

[chthonic-cassandra]

I do have goals for 2023, but they all come down to "doing more of the things that make me happy and less of the things that make me unhappy."

[waveofahand]

Chapter 47: “Tearing out the Jagger Temptation”

In Chapter 47 of “Hello, Goodbye”:

Things are getting better between John and Paul. They couldn't have gotten much worse. But as we saw in the last chapter, things are beginning to mend between them, thanks in no small part to John Lennon realizing he needed to step up his game and John Dawson's helpful letter to Paul. He has a lot to say in his diary -- and the time, finally, to say it. Let's just say he's a man in love.... You can read it at A03. 

[primary-visions]

I would ask to request the difficult recovery promps:

*falls trying to get out of the room

&

*not enought medicine

Plz!!!!! ;3

Word Count 1223

Your head had been killing you for the last few hours. Normally, you could just take a bit of headache medicine and get better, but when you checked your backpack, there was nothing left in your little travel tin. Since your last use of the tin, you hadn’t refilled it. “Man,” you whined, rubbing at your temples hoping that would relieve some of the tension there. It never really did, but hey it was worth a shot right?

Sun looked over to you as you dropped your backpack. Your brow was pinched in pain and the tone of your voice had him worried. “Everything okay, Dewdrop,” he asked, coming to your side with a few other kids in his wake.

You forced a smile and nodded your head. “Yeah, yeah,” you said to dispel his worry. “Just a little migraine and I’m out of medicine,” you informed him. “I’ll be fine.”

“You don’t look fine,” he observed. “Maybe you should sit out at free play,” he said, earning a groan from a few of the kids.

“But we wanted to play dress up with them,” Amelia said.

“Now, now,” Sun started. “If a friend is feeling sick we don’t push them to play.”

“It’s fine, Sunny.” Waving your hand you tried to dispel his worries. “I can play dress up with you all today, Amelia. It’s just a little headache.”

Sun crossed his arms over his chest. “Moon and I don’t like it. If you’re not well, you need to rest.”

“I think it’s from eye strain. I have been on the tablet all day doing paperwork, Sunny. I can’t get out of that. But yeah, if it’s eye strain then playing dress up will help right?”

Sun tilted his head silently, in conversation with his counterpart. “Okay,” he said hesitantly. He reached out his hand and cupped your cheek gently. “If you start to feel worse, promise us that you’ll take a break?”

“I promise,” you said to Sun, patting the pack of his large hand with yours. “Thanks for worrying about me,” you said.

Over the course of playtime your migraine did not get better. In fact it began to feel as if nails were stabbing you through your eyes as the day continued. The throbbing in your head was so painful it was difficult to focus, but you were trying your hardest to keep Sun and Moon from noticing your discomfort. Especially with how they continued to watch you like a hawk for the rest of the day.

During nap time, Moon even made you rest a bit, which wasn’t really new. He always wanted you to take a nap with the kids during nap time, but once you were back awake your headache was even worse. “Feeling better,” he asked as the two of you walked over to the light switch.

“Huh? Oh, yeah,” you lied. “Never better, Moonbeam.”

Moon tilted his head noticing the way your voice rose with your lie. It confused him and Sun. Why did you do this? Lie to them about your physical well-being as if they wouldn’t know.

‘I don’t like it,’ Sun said to Moon in their headspace.

‘Me neither,’ Moon commented, watching as you shakily walked toward the light switch. ‘They are stubborn.’

Sun shifted back with a shimmer and a rotation of his head as the lights flicked on and stared at you as you squinted into the lights. “The lights aren’t too much for you are they,” he asked, stepping toward you, taking your hand in his own.

“I said I’m fine,” you chuckled out, pulling your hand free of his before walking toward where the children waited for the next game.

“You really think I believe that?” Hands on his hips, Sun stubbornly stood over you.

“No,” you said, shrugging. “I know you don’t, but you have to trust me. I know my body. This is just a regular old headache. Nothing to worry about.” Sun watched your retreating form and let out a sigh, following to start the next game.

At the end of the day, Sun had you sit out of cleaning duties. There were no ifs-ands-or-buts about it. He was not going to let you move from the security desk chair and every time you fidgeted he would turn his gaze on you. “Sun,” you whined. “Come on, this isn’t fair.”

“Your well-being is my priority,” he said. “Think of this as time out. For lying to me and Moon, for breaking your promise. Now just sit there and rest your eyes.”

You let out a groan, stretching your arms out on the desk. You didn’t even try to deny that you did break your promise and lied to both of them. Checking your fazwatch for the time and saw that it was almost time for you to head out for the night. “Well,” you said sitting up. “I’ll just see you tomorrow then,” you said, moving to get up.

Sun’s head swiveled over to you. “Oh, you think we are going to let you drive home in your condition? No sir-y. You’ll probably get into an accident. You can spend the night here,” he said matter-of-factly, giving little room for protest.

“Sun—“

“No,” he said, walking over to the security desk. “Just let us take care of you, Dewdrop,” he said, cradling your face in his hands again. “Humans are so fragile. We don’t know what we would do if we lost you. Now, come. I’ll help you get situated in the nap-time corner. Or would you rather sleep in the tower with us while we charge for the night?”

You looked Sun in the eyes. You realized there was no arguing with him over this. You weren’t going to win. He and Moon could be as stubborn as you could, you knew. He was faster and stronger than you, even without the migraine hindering you. “I haven’t had dinner yet,” you pointed out.

“We’ll walk you to El Chips. Maybe get you a cup of soup if that’s what you want to do first,” he said. You nodded and stood from the chair, a wave of nausea and dizziness crashing over you. The room spun and gravity took complete control of your body before Sun’s hands caught you, supporting your body.

“Maybe, I wait here,” you murmured out weakly, your head still spinning.

“Yes, that’s probably a good idea,” Sun said, pulling you into his arms and moving you over to the naptime corner. “Just rest here,” he said, tucking you in. “If you’re still hungry when we come back, we’ll help you eat,” he said, earning a groan of assent from you. As he left, Sun shut off the lights.

Upon returning to the daycare, Moon entered the darkened room, eyes easily catching sight of your resting form. Silently, he slunk over to you carrying a small cup of soup. He assessed your form, realizing you had fallen asleep.

Putting the cup down, he gently lifted you into his arms and took you up into the tower wanting to better keep an eye on you while he and Sun charged for the night. If you needed anything, he wanted to make sure he was there.

“Sleep well, Dewdrop,” he whispered as he gently tucked you comfortably into the blankets for the night.

[triscribeaucollection]

Anytime

It took two days for Inko’s fretting to ease up enough for her to approve another attempted training session after the villain attack. Izuku, at least, seemed to bounce back pretty quickly, insisting that he’d felt something when pushing Tenko out of the way and practically demanding the chance to try channeling it again.

Toshinori, faced with overwhelming youthful enthusiasm, put on his widest grin and of course agreed. When Izuku darted off to change into gym clothes, however, that expression faded into something much more concerned. Tenko made a point of sidling up to him and gently giving the man a nudge. “This is what he wants to do, remember?”

“I know,” his uncle murmured. After a moment, he went on, “I admit, until now I’ve held a, a rather rose-tinted vision in my mind of what Izuku with One for All will look like. It’s only just clicked, though, that he’s going to start throwing himself forward with greater abandon from now on.”

“He is the kid who threw a shoe at All for One’s face,” Tenko agreed in a dry tone, making Toshinori snort. “But I think UA will be good for him. If nothing else, Aizawa-sensei is very practiced at knocking hard heads together until his students learn to be careful with themselves.”

“An excellent point, my boy.”

---

So. Good news! Izuku figured out how to activate his new Quirk.

Bad news - turning it on at full power apparently shattered all the bone and muscle in his arm.

---

Tenko first met Recovery Girl when he was a kid, and visited her infirmary a few times during his high school years. During those brief visits, he’d never seen anything besides her gentle, generally kind bedside manner. Witnessing that grandmotherly demeanor turned from a passive to almost weaponized state proved to be... an interesting experience.

For one thing, she managed to thoroughly chastise both his uncle and cousin without once ever raising her voice or using foul words. Her Healing Quirk was of course beyond impressive, and watching her hold up a piece of candy close enough to Izuku’s face to make him go cross-eyed looking at it almost made Tenko burst out laughing.

“Are you going to make sure this doesn’t happen again on a whim, young Midoriya?”

“Yes, Recovery Girl.”

“Good. Take this and get out while I fuss at your father some more.”

Both cousins were rather red-faced as they stepped out of the infirmary, Izuku from embarrassment and Tenko from trying to hold back his amusement. The little old woman’s voice started up again right as the door closed behind them, but rather than linger to try and eavesdrop, Tenko went ahead and pulled his cousin along towards the elevator. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired,” Izuku admitted, listing a little to one side as he walked. “And, confused - Dad never said anything about this happening to him.”

Tenko hummed, thinking of the couple of pictures Gran Torino showed him once, of a very young and very tall and very buff Uncle Toshi in his UA gym uniform. “Pretty sure he was about twice as big as you when Grandma Nana first gave him One for All.”

His baby cousin pulled a face at that, and Tenko gave in to the urge to ruffle his messy hair as the elevator doors opened for them. “It can’t just be the difference in muscle mass, can it? I mean- the other Bearers, it isn’t likely all of them were the same size-”

“Ah, I’m gonna stop you right there. What is One for All, at its core?”

Izuku blinked at him, gaze going a bit distant as Tenko pushed the button for his personal floor. “...it’s a stockpiling Quirk.”

“Mmhm. Meaning, as each Bearer wielded it, One for All kept getting stronger with every generation. Uncle Toshi got it from Grandma Nana, and spent decades using and strengthening and adding more to the stockpile.” He paused for a moment to let that sink in. “You’re now carrying around more power than any other Bearer before you, Izu, so I can’t really say I’m surprised it’s proving to be overwhelming at first.”

“But I’ve got to master it, I can’t let Dad down-!”

Even as the doors opened for them, Tenko tugged on Izuku’s hair until the boy looked up to meet his serious gaze. “You won’t. You could decide to bail on being a Hero and just open up a bookshop or something, and he’d be proud of you. And so would I. What you decide to do with your life isn’t nearly as important as how you live it.”

“...but I’ve got One for All now,” Izuku muttered, hunching his shoulders a little. “I can’t just let it go to waste.”

Tenko shrugged, catching the elevator doors before they could close again and nudging his cousin out. “I mean, the whole point of all the other Bearers building it up was so that it could be used to beat All for One. Uncle Toshi did that. What you choose to do with it now is up to you.”

Izuku didn’t say anything else, as Tenko got him settled at the kitchen table with a mug of warm tea while the young man fixed them both some lunch. “...Tenko?”

“Mm?”

“Thanks.”

He shot a smile over his shoulder. “Anytime.”

---

I am still working on this next chapter for Double Take, but I promise it’s not abandoned - I just need to make it to the start of Izuku’s school year, and then some of my pre-written snippets will kick in.

[starlight-and-whiskey]

More People than Ghosts.

First OFC fic in a long time. Also posted on AO3. 18+ from here on out. TW for abuse, SA and PTSD. A long time ago I used to write frequently, now I'm trying to figurately get back in the saddle. The SA aspects and emotions felt were drawn from personal experience, so please don't come for me as I understand everyone's experience and coping mechanisms aren't universal. Prompts open should anyone find my brain ramblings satisfactory.

Battered and bruised, when Eleanor escaped the infamous Blackthorne gang, she didn't expect to fall into the arms of Arthur Morgan. But can you ever truly leave your past behind? Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Eleanor shivered, her body dangling from the floor, hands bound above her head with rope that cut into her wrists, the weight threatening to wrench her shoulders from their sockets. How long had she been held here? A day? A week? Her mouth was dry, her wrists raw and bleeding.

With the creak of a heavy wooden door, a sliver of light penetrated the thick soupy blackness of the cabin, blinding Eleanor for a moment. A brief offering of daylight. With a wince and screwed up eyes – one lagging with the heavy weight of bruising - she waited for her vision to adjust, as heavy footsteps and a silhouette approached.

"Tsk tsk tsk", came the gravelled voice, a calloused hand grasping at her swollen jaw. "Told my boys to leave your face. Such a waste."

The figure slowly came into focus as Eleanor squinted, one eye almost swollen shut. "No matter."

"E...Elias?" She stammered, heart stopping in her chest as his sour breath blossomed over her face.

Realisation coming thick and fast, terror prickling across her skin and she felt his warm breath against her neck.

"Missed me, sweetheart?"

6 months earlier

The air was still. The only sound that Arthur could register was the faint off tune singing of Uncle and the campfire crackling gently a short distance away. A few more hours and his turn on guard would be done.

Arthur leant against the knotted oak, his sharp eyes scanning the darkened edges of the forest, his mind churning as it always did when he found himself alone. The night was quiet, too quiet, as if the woods themselves were holding their breath.

A rustling in the underbrush caught his attention. His hands instinctively gripped tighter around the rifle, fingers brushing the cold metal of the trigger. The distinctive snapping of a twig echoed through the silence. Arthur held his breath as the rustling grew louder, squinting through the dark.  A rabbit? His exhausted mind playing tricks?

No. There. A shadow stumbling in the dark.

“Who is it?” Arthur called out into the darkness, already doing the math in his head at lightning speed. Last one still out in town was John, and he’d come back hours ago. Arthur himself had seen him, tossing a wisecrack over his shoulder as Marston had ridden his horse past the hitching post and straight into camp. Unless he’d missed something, all were present and accounted for.

Arthur opened his mouth to call again, but no words left his throat as the shadow took on human form, staggering into the dim light. For a moment, breath stilled in Arthur’s throat. It was a woman. Ragged remains of a night slip hung from her tiny frame, her face – glistening in the fading glow of a distance campfire - dirty and caked with dried blood. Her eyes, wide and wild, darted around like a trapped animal's.

Arthur cautiously dropped his rifle. As the woman took a step closer, his eyes glanced to her bare feet, slicked with red. Hair mattered across her eyes, she halted immediately as she caught Arthur’s eye.

"Whoa, there," Arthur said cautiously, raising a calming hand. "Ain't gonna hurt you."

The woman flinched at his voice but didn't run, the fingers of her shaking hands curled like talons. Her chest heaved with rapid breaths, and her legs trembled as if they might give way at any moment. His eyes traced the treeline for any sign of movement, for any indication of a trap or an ambush.

"Easy now," he repeated, his voice softer. "You need help?"

She nodded slowly, tears welling in her eyes. Arthur motioned for her to come closer, his posture as non-threatening as he could manage.

"It's okay" He said softly. She took a tentative step forward, then another, before stumbling. Arthur's arm wrapping around her and holding up her meagre weight. The way she flinched at his touch didn't go unnoticed, the way her chest heaved with terrified sobs against his chest. "I got you. Can you walk a little? Camp's not far."

She nodded, limbs shaking, and allowed Arthur to brace her as he walked her slowly into camp.

As they stumbled past the camp fire, Arthur shot a look at John's wide eyed expression.

"Go take watch, Marston."

"But-"

"This look like it's up for discussion?" Arthur cut in, an edge to his voice that even John knew better than to argue with. "Where's Bill?"

"Asleep, I think."

"Well, wake him up. Take him with you."

Arthur continued to guide the terrified women towards Dutch's tent, throwing a look back over his shoulder at John who was already shouldering his rifle. "And wake Hosea too. Send him to Dutch's tent. Now."

"Dutch!" Arthur called, pausing at the entrance. "You up?"

The tent flap opened, Dutch staring at the young women with wide eyes.

"What the hell is going on?"

"Need your help. I already called for Hosea."

"Come in, my dear." He said softly, holding open the flap. Arthur felt her hand tightly squeeze him and her muscles grow rigid.

"It's okay", he said quietly, squeezing her shoulder gently. "You're safe here."

Slowly, Arthur guided her inside, easing her down into the small wooden chair before peeling off his brown leather jacket and wrapping it around her shivering frame. Now bathed in the glow of lantern light, Arthur’s jaw gritted at the sight of her. What presumably would have been once a white cotton slip, hung from her shoulders in tattered rags, stained and speckled with patches of dried blood. The woman’s eyes were dark hollows, cheekbones prominent against the gauntness of her face and smudged with dirt. Despite her face being absent of injury, her legs were mottled in a patchwork of black, red and sickening green bruising that no doubt extended beyond her clothing. A scrap of her nightdress tied clumsily around her thigh in lieu of a bandage. Arthur felt his fists clench.

"What's your name?" he asked gently, crouching in front of her.

She looked up at him, swallowing hard. "Eleanor," she whispered, her voice cracking. “Eleanor Moore.”

Dutch nodded. "Alright, Eleanor. You're safe now." Those words were all it took for the woman to clutch the jacket tighter around her body, head bowed in silent sobs.

Dutch motioned to Arthur for his canteen, who handed swiftly it over. Eleanor was drinking greedily, her hands shaking as droplets of water rolled down her chin, when the tent flap opened again. Hosea stood there, jaw slack as he took in the scene. “Christ”, he whispered, eyes soft and sad.

"Found her wanderin' in the woods. Looks like she's been through hell." Arthur answered the unasked question.

Dutch's expression softened, “Miss Moore, what happened to you?”

Eleanor looked around at the faces watching her, lips trembling. She took a deep breath, her voice barely more than a whisper. "I was taken… by a gang. I..I don’t know how long. They...I-" she broke down in tears. “What gang, my dear?” Hosea asked quietly. “Who took you?”

Eleanor hesitated, fear flashing in her eyes. "The Blackthorne Gang," she said finally. The air in the tent turned icy as Hosea and Dutch exchanged wide eyed looks.

“Miss…” Dutch said softly. “You got any family? Some place we can take you?”

She took a shaking breath, eyes closed. "No. Not anymore."

Arthur cast a knowing look at Dutch who sighed through his nose and nodded.

"You can stay with us until you figure out what you wanna do. If you want to. Ain't no one gonna hurt you here." Dutch placed a closed fist on his chest. "You got my word on that."

The air grew thick with tension. Eleanor swallowed heavily; her breath unsteady. “You got women here?” “We do.” “Do…”, she swallowed back tears as the words stuck in her throat, not daring to look up. “Do you hurt them?”

Arthur clenched his jaw, anger simmering beneath his calm exterior. “No.”

All four of them looked up suddenly as another figure bustled into the already crowded tent. “Mr Marston said you might need- Oh my God”, Miss Grimshaw gasped as she pushed her way inside, fingers shooting up to clamp over her lips. Eleanor huddled further into the chair. “You poor thing.” “Miss Grimshaw”, Dutch announced, “this here is Miss Moore. Had a spot of bother with the Blackthornes. I need you to get her cleaned up. Find her some clothes. Some food. Someplace to sleep. Do not leave her side.” Susan nodded, regaining her composure and smoothing down her skirts as Dutch turned back to Eleanor.

"Go with Miss Grimshaw, she'll get you bathed and clothed and fed. I'll send the reverend to check you over. Them cuts will need tending." Susan held out her hand but Eleanor’s eyes remained terrified, locking onto Arthur’s. “It’s okay”, he said softly, nodding. “Go on.” Unsteadily, she rose, allowing Miss Grimshaw to wrap an arm around her shoulder.

As Susan held open the tent flap, Eleanor cast a wary look over her shoulder, eyes fixed on Dutch’s face and voice trembling. "Elias. He won't be happy when he finds out I'm gone. I can't go back. Sir, please. Please don't let them take me back."

"You are safe now, Miss Moore. Now, we got a lot of men with a lot of guns. Ain't no one gonna take you anywhere you don't want."

***

Arthur grimaced at the blood slicking his fingertip and wiped his hands roughly on his pants. "You see her wrists? Damn animals had her tied up."

“The Blackthorne’s”, Dutch growled lowly, hands on his hips. “Who are they?” Arthur asked. Hosea dropped into the wooden chair. “You ever tangled with them, Dutch?” “No. But I heard plenty.” “Somebody wanna tell me who the hell they are!?” Arthur asked again, voice raised. “What did she mean when she asked if we hurt women?”

Hosea looked from Arthur to Dutch, then back to Arthur, pushing out a heavy sigh as he recalled the stories he’d often heard but had hoped couldn’t be true.

There’d been stories for years. The same grim tales. Women vanishing without a trace. Different states, different circumstances. Taken from their homes in the dead of night, a swathe of bodies left behind. Some from camps, tents left cut open and ransacked. Sometimes snatched right from the streets in broad daylight. But one name remained consistent. Elias Blackthorne. No one had believed the stories, of course. The Blackthorne’s were outlaws, sure. But everyone put the tales down to Elias bolstering his own notoriety. Even when whispered stories of broken women luring other outlaw camps into an ambush, leaving scores of men decimated with no female bodies to be found began circulating, no one really believed it. There was honour amongst even thieves after all.

The stories that Hosea had dismissed as exaggerated campfire tales now seemed all too real. He had seen the haunted look in Eleanor’s eyes, and knew.

"What you think?”, Hosea asked, rubbing at his exhausted eyes. “A spy? You’ve heard the story about how he brought down the Flynn boys.”

"Arthur?" Dutch asked quietly.

"No."

"Me neither."

Arthur wet his bottom lip, pulling out his tobacco tin. "What about this gang. If they send folk after her?"

"Didn't we have this exact conversation when we found Miss Jackson?"

"I suppose so."

Dutch smiled. "And my answer remains the same. If they come, we fight. And we kill every last one of them."

[neko-naruto]

Serving size

Summary: Grief affects people in different ways, some people can keep on trekking the next day, some people lose themselves and can't get out without help, Ky is one of the people that can't keep on keeping on through grief.

Warnings: Character death, vague gore, starvation, depression, slight overeating, check tags for further warnings.

Authors Note: I don't usually write fics that touch on these topic, but if you're going through a rough patch related to them, reach out, I know its hard, but, it'll get better. Reblogs are appreciated as always.

He rarely did this.

Let himself eat enough that is.

He didn't like it when he let himself 'pig out' as the third king put it last time Ky did so.

So he was constantly on the verge of being to hungry to focus, to fight, to exist, but he managed despite his emotions sometimes coming undone because of it. His family didn't know this, the other kings didn't know this, they simply assumed he always ate little for his frame to stay perfect; even though he almost didn't get enough to stay in shape. Some nights he would wake up shaking and clenching his stomach, because it ached with how little he ate, and then, despite knowing it was his castle, he would sneak to the kitchen and take mere crumbs.

But when Dizzy fell in battle, he full on starved himself, refusing to move, refusing to eat, refusing to do anything until Sin forced him to. He was sickly, his skin thinned out to the point veins bulged, his once toned frame deflated, and he looked a bit caved in. For months Sin had to force him back into a loose sense of schedule, when to eat and when to sleep, it took weeks for Ky to start feeling hungry again. He still looked sick, he never fully recovered, but his Gear cells did just enough to cover it up, did just enough to finish the recovery and make him look healthy.

Ky promised himself he would never let himself go without food for that long again, he promised in front of Sin, Sol and the few others he could trust would be around to ensure it. They made sure he ate a healthy serving three times a day each day, and he felt like he was overeating due to hears of under-eating, when they weren't around he didn't eat. He regained his muscle mass from almost nothing, Sol enforcing a protein and mineral rich diet made sure of it, and he did put it to good use like he used to.

Sin fell next, and Ky was there to see it, he was there to see his own son be gored on a barbed staff, there to hear those pained cries. The fight ended in a holy man forever marred with the blood of a murderer, he didn't care. This time he held out for a week before he stopped eating again, slowly dropping portion sizes and pounds once again; he just felt so guilty, and it manifested in odd ways he supposed. Sol had to help him out of it and did so sooner than Sin, force feeding bites of meat and potatoes while pinning him to the dining hall table until he remembered the eating was a necessity, not something one should be penalized with.

It took only a few weeks for Ky to fully recover this time around, most likely because Sol didn't wait as long as Sin did. The muscles went down again, but they trained around that instead of against it, focusing on Kys agility instead of brute force. His body was forever fragile now due to relapsing into starvation, so he would have to rely on his speed to avoid getting hit as much. Every training session would be followed by a meal to make sure depleted energy was restored and that potential hunger was quelled; Ky still ate servings a bit to small to truly fill himself up, no one noticed.

He still woke up hungry, he still fell asleep hungry, he still fought hungry and worked hungry and lived hungry even though he didn't have to.

And it didn't start like this, it wasn't always about grief, mourning and loss triggering starvation for him, it only started when he became truly important. When he realized he had to be presentable, when he needed to be a figure people could look up to and rely on, that's when he started to thin out his meals. Then he had a family before then, he would usually go back for seconds, after Dizzy and Sin became part of his life, he had to stop eating as much; he couldn't let himself even appear mildly gluttonous in front of his wife, nor his son.

Then Sol died, and this time, he wasn't there to see it, he didn't even learn about it until it was the beginning of a meal and Chipp had dropped by with news. Upon being informed of this, Ky went to stand up, full plate in hand (truly full, a proper serving size), walked over to the closest trash can and tilted it. He pressed his fork to the pile of mashed potatoes, gone, then the meat, he doesn't deserve it, fruit, to sweet for a failure, he's shaking but he doesn't notice. When he returns to sitting across from Chipp, plate empty, he sees the expression and its worried, he didn't expect to see someone worried about him for doing what was right; people who fail get penalized for it, and he failed to keep his family safe, so his penalty wasn't eating.

"Why did you do that?" Chipp asked gently as he rested his fork by his plate, he didn't feel like eating anymore, he didn't like eating when no on else was.

"I, I don't deserve to eat if I fail," Ky explained, all the work Sin and Sol had put into to making sure he knew that wasn't true coming undone in a second.

"That isn't true you know," Chipp said, nudging his three quarter full plate to Ky, hoping, hoping so damn much the first king would take it because going to sleep hungry isn't good.

"If you fail, you get a punishment, correct?" Ky asked, gaze slipping from Chipp and the plate of food, he hadn't eaten since eleven and now its nearly seven, he's starving.

"Yes, but, food isn't something you should punish yourself with Ky, everyone eats, you should to," Chipp said, practically pleading with Ky to just take the plate and eat one thing.

"Only for a week, that's how long the punishment will last, I'll have snacks, you don't have to worry Chipp," Ky said, confident in the fact he wouldn't starve himself for longer or no less.

"I'll be back this time, next Saturday, if you haven't eaten anything by midnight, I'm bringing you to a doctor," Chipp said, taking a few more forkfuls of the gourmet spread that had been assembled, his plate only had a quarter left on it, he would usually finish it, but he wasn't feeling the hungriest today.

"You really don't have to," Ky said as he gathered the plates and utensils, carrying them to the kitchen, "I don't even know why you care about this so much."

"I dated your son you know, before he died," Chipp said bluntly, Kys eyes widened just a bit, unaware of the fact until now, "do you know how much it tore him apart Ky? How much he sobbed and screamed and broke shit for you? He was distraught, and you didn't even notice, it was horrible Ky."

"He was good at hiding his emotions when he was sad," Ky said, although his statement was true, he still felt hurt at the fact his son didn't trust him enough to show off his partner.

"Ky last time you lost someone important you nearly died, Sol and Sin told me about it before they were killed," Chipp said, Kys form tensed at the phrase, "and even if they didn't everyone could tell you were malnourished whenever you went out in public."

"Chipp, you have three minutes to leave before I ban you from entering this castle ever again," Ky said, he had hoped no one would've noticed his lack of nourishment whenever he made public appearances, turns out he failed to hide it; he looked to Chipp, the ninja glared at him.

"I won't let you die of starvation, even I have to do so forcibly Ky, I'll see you on Saturday," and with that the ninja left, soft footsteps turning to silence as Ky left to wash the dishes, a maid could've done it for him, but sometimes it helps him relieve stress to scrub with steel wool until his fingers are raw.

One day, Ky is fine, he didn't eat anything, he's done this twice before, he'll do it again.

Two days, Ky is fine, he ate a piece of bread, he's overeating again, a failure doesn't deserve bread.

Three days, Ky is fine, he drank water instead of eating, he's being a good failure.

Four days, Ky didn't leave his room, he slept the day away, he didn't eat or drink anything at all.

Five days, Ky isn't fine, he wants to punch something, his muscles are mostly gone, he's weak.

Six days, Ky stopped feeling hunger, even if he did, he wouldn't eat, he's to guilt ridden to eat.

Seven days, Ky is fine, he drank water, he knows his body is tearing itself apart, he doesn't eat.

A knock on castle doors, Leo answers to find Chipp standing there, outfitted in something no one sees him in anymore. He gets a wary glance over from Leo, he can't help but fidget, as he stared down by ice blue eyes.

"Do you have any business with any of the kings?" Leo asked, tone heavy and intimidating to most, Chipp only straightened his posture.

"Yes, last weekend I said I would return around now to see the first king, Ky Kiske that is," Chipp said, keeping his tone clear and free of cracks to try and sound professional.

"Is that so, because Ky never mentioned a ninja would be visiting, nor did any of us see it in his planner, which he leaves lying around for anyone to see these days," Leo said, he went to close the door on Chipp who didn't even try to stop it until the last second, jamming his blade between the slabs of wood, "I'm not sure you got the message, leave."

"When was the last time he left his room?" Chipp asked, tone stern, but with a slight wavering underneath.

"Hell if I know, I'm not his babysitter," Leo said, pushing Chipps weapon away along with the ninja who just let the door slide shut, he turned to leave.

Then he took a running start before taking a leap onto the wall, grasping helplessly at the smooth marble, trying to find a grip when there wasn't any. He slid down to the ground, gave a small groan of annoyance, he started to circle the castle, seeing if there were any trees that reached to a high window. Only one tree reached as high as he had hoped, but the bark was smooth and the branches thinner than desired, he could scale it, possibly. So he took another running start, digging his blade into the wood where he clung to the tree, swinging himself a bit higher and yanking out the metal, gripping the branches.

He climbed slowly, branches threatening to give with every few inches he scaled, he was sure someone was staring at him through a window. He didn't really care though, so long as he could get high enough up to make sure that Ky had eaten anything he would be satisfied with himself. Sure, this tree was suffering, keening under his meager weight, and swaying back and forth as he somewhat circled it, forcing metal through wood when his grip threatened to give. He really did feel bad for doing this, but as soon as he reached the foliage, he could breath easy, no one could see him, but he had to contort his body awkwardly around the branches.

When he reached the window, the tree was swaying aggressively in the wind and Chipp was feeling the mildly nauseated because of it, like he was on a boat. But there it was, his goal, the window two floors below Kys room, the first king slept in the attic, and he just had to find the hidden door up after he got in. So, without thinking if it was safe, he launched himself at the window, pulling up his shoulders a bit and twisting so he wouldn't shatter the glass with his face.

Shards went flying and some of them tore his skin, one even tore open his fishnet undershirt in a spot, it was mostly small cuts that didn't bleed to much. He stayed perfectly still for a few seconds, no footsteps, no one nearby, he raised to his feet before starting on his trek, only in search of a staircase. Footing light and swift, breathing controlled and silent, he made it in a very small amount of time, and only got almost caught once, up the stairs and now he had to search.

It was shockingly serene as he walked around, even as he allowed a bit more weight to enter his steps, the quietness soothing, but bugging him slightly. The carpet was red, a rich crimson, the walls were white, marbled pillars and some panes of glass stained in faux murals; a very classy joint to put simply. Then he found it, at the end of the ever curving hallway, a small turnoff that led to a hatch in the roof, he pulled it down and climbed up.

To say he was displeased at the sight was an understatement.

It was dark, light barely shone in from a singular blocked off window, even with his vision being acute in darkness he had a hard time seeing (he recently he got real glasses for the day). He saw stuff strewn about everywhere, he saw half empty plates on the ground, he knew they were never full, what he saw was explicitly nothing like Ky. He stepped closer, quiet and somewhat labored breathing could be heard and the barely discernible rise and fall of a blanket. He didn't dare pull it off, he knew he shouldn't, but how else could he make sure that Ky wasn't wasting away as much as last time?

Chipp simply cleared his throat nudging the bedposts with his foot to jostle it, he got a groan in response.

"Did you eat anything?" Chipp asked as Ky slowly sat up, pushing aside the sheets, still fully dressed in his usual outfit.

"No, failures don't deserve food," Ky responded with, he meant it come out sharper than it did.

"You're wrong, now get up, its lunch time," Chipp said.

The first king glared at him until he tried to stand up, his body hurt so much, his expression gritted, his body swayed. In an instant Chipp was at his side supporting him, the blondes body still shook, his bones were a bit pronounced and his skin felt delicate. Slowly, oh so slowly, Ky hobbled to the ladder, Chipp had to help him before they started on their way down to the kitchen.

"I'm still not going to eat," Ky said, he meant it, he really did.

"I know that," Chipp responded with, he would still try to convince Ky otherwise though.