#tw graphic injuries

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

IOU. - OC Story

pairing: OC!Victoria "Whiskey" Callahan x MootOC!Valkyrie (platonic) extra: Victoria "Whiskey" Callahan x Simon "Ghost" Riley words: 1.6k~ cw: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, torture and bodily harm (descriptive!), kidnapping, forced starvation, injuries, blood, use of weapons, thoughts of death/dying.

June 4th, 2021. Beirut, Lebanon 1156 hours.

"Valkyrie."

"Watcher."

"Where are you?"

"Currently getting falafel in a nice little food stand."

"So you're free?"

"Depending on the price, I might be."

"No government funds this time, Val."

"So you're paying for this out of pocket? How generous of you."

"Wiring you 25 now."

"Copy that. It just came in. Where's the target?"

"That's what I need you to figure out. One of my assets went dark in Turkmenistan."

"When do I leave?"

"Now."

"...Can I finish my lunch first?"

June 4th, 2021. Ashgabat, Turkmenistan. 2147 hours.

Val crouches down on the tiled rooftop, still warm from the sun that had shined down on it for nearly 16 hours straight during the day, their flashlight illuminating the path that indicated a scuffle, more than a few broken tiles, a few of them displaying bullet holes.

In their ear, an earpiece relayed the audio file that Laswell had sent, a voice they recognized very well coming through. The last comm Whiskey was able to send in before they went dark.

"WATCHER, COPY GODDAMN IT!"

"JESUS FUCKING CHRIST... THIS IS WHISKEY IN THE BLIND, IF ANYONE COPIES, PLEASE RESPOND."

She was out of breath, her voice uneven and loud, a clear sign that she was not just on the run, but definitely being shot at, if the loud bangs between the static of the lack of commands was any indication.

"MY LOCATION HAS BEEN COMPROMISED... ATTEMPTING EXFIL ON FOOT... CURRENTLY BEING PURSUIED... ENGAGING HOSTILES."

"SOUTHEAST BOUND... OUTNUMBERED... AND UNARMED... NEED NEAREST SAFEHOUSE LOCATION."

Valkyrie could hear the panic in the American's voice with each word she said. Val could almost picture it, each step she took, each rustle of clothes, each jump and vault she performed over the rooftops trying to make it across, as she was chased.

Restarting the audio, they started following the steps they assumed Whiskey took, through the broken tiles and gunshot holes, parkouring and vaulting walls and roofs, southeast bound, just like the American likely would've...

And the audio finished just at the same time as Val spotted it.

"AHHHHHHHHH! FUCK! FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK!"

A large bloodstain on the tile beneath their feet, an attempt at dragging herself away, before being caught, and lifted, the blood splattering as someone carried her off.

Looking around, Val's eyes fixed on the street across the building, both their hands coming to rest on their hips. "Now what?" They murmured under their breath.

June 8th, 2021. Darvaza, Turkmenistan. 0303 hours.

She didn't know how long it had been.

The only sign that time was going by was whenever she'd pass out from exhaustion and dehydration, only to wake up again with a bucket of water being poured atop her, or a cheek-bruising slap being delivered to her face.

It had been a while since she found herself in this situation... and it might have been the delirium setting in, but she couldn't help but feel that she was rusty.

She used to be able to withstand torture sessions much more easily. If they could catch her, that is. She used to see enemies coming much easier than she did this time.

Hell, had Simon really softened her up so much? Or was she just getting old?

Not to say she had gotten weak, or stupid. She hadn't. She had followed procedure and kept her mouth shut. She had told them little else than her full name, her service number and her birthday.

Anything else they wanted? They might as well kill her because she wouldn't speak.

But she had to admit that it was getting to her. She didn't know when it started becoming too much, but it had.

Maybe it was how stuffy and hot the bunker was, in the middle of the stupid desert, God how she hated the summer and the heat...

Maybe it was the waterboarding.

Maybe it was the nail pulling.

Maybe the finger breaking.

Maybe the punches to the stomach until she was puking.

Maybe it was the lack of sleep.

Maybe the barely sutured GSW to the upper right thigh, which, sure they had sewn up, to keep her alive for long enough to interrogate, but that was just about where their hospitality ended, because they didn't provide any pain killers and left it to fester, still in her bloody clothes.

Maybe it was the sensory nightmare that was the sweat slicking her skin, and, oh, how soaked her compression leggings were, sticking to the sensitive skin on her legs.

Maybe it was when they hung her upside down for long, endless minutes, hoping the blood rushing down to her head, coupled with the lack of food, with create a cocktail of dizziness that would make her talk.

Or maybe, just maybe, it was when they tossed her on the back of a jeep and drove her out to the dunes in the desert and left her out there for what must have been multiple hours, under the scorching sun, feeling the sand burn against her face, her mouth gagged with cloth and hogtied like a pig, only to come collect her after a few hours, when she already had blisters of a nasty sunburn forming on the back of her neck, lower back and hands, after she had succeeded in rolling herself onto her stomach to protect her face and neck.

She barely registered the sound of gunshots outside the room, barely awake and shivering, running the nastiest fever of her fucking life, her head hanging low as she was tied to a chair in a room that might as well have been a furnace, baking under the hot sun and sand for the whole day.

The moment the lock is opened, Whiskey raised her head, her hair hanging over her eyes, her eyes squinting, trying to make out the shape at the door, but her eyes were too hazy and her head was throbbing.

"Back for more?" She used the last of her strength to taunt her kidnappers, like she had been for the entire time of her captivity.

She might have been worn down and at the end of her rope, but she'd go down her way... By being an absolute cunt until they put a bullet in her head to end her once and for all.

And when they disposed of her body somewhere in the desert, it wouldn't take long for them to be buried beside her. She knew Simon would make sure of it.

Simon... God, she missed him. What a terrible fucking start to their marriage. She was pretty sure this was not what a honeymoon in the desert is meant to look like.

"Holy shit, you look like crap." Was not the answer she expected, followed by the ropes binding her to the chair to be loosened.

Val knelt by Whiskey's feet, looking up at the brunette with knitted brows and compassionate brown eyes. "You alright?"

Valkyrie. Huh... Seemed like Laswell actually sent someone. Whiskey was starting to wonder if she'd just be considered a loss and left to rot here.

"Took your sweet time..." Whiskey croaked out, causing Val to chuckle and shake their head, their hands quickly undoing the restraints that kept her feet bound to the chair.

"Yeah, well, had to stop and sightsee a little bit, do all the touristy things... You know how it is." Valkyrie replied as they shifted their weight around and helped comb the hair off Whiskey's face. "Can you walk?"

Whiskey gulped a bit, dryly, and nodded, though, really, it was anyone's guess if she really had enough strength to make it from the chair to the door, let alone outside or to town or... god knows where they were.

Using her bloodied hands, she pushed herself up to her feet, wobbling violently from a mix of being light-headed and having been shot in the leg days ago, which caused Val's gloved hands to shoot forward to help stabilize her.

Whiskey knew better than to bat them off, especially now, when she knew she needed help. So, she wrapped an arm around Val's shoulders, and shifted her weight around on her leg.

"Thought you said you could walk?" Valkyrie teased a bit, causing Whiskey to groan and shoot them a look of pure rage.

"Shut..." The American grunted. "Just get me out of here..."

"Alright... Alright... Jeez, tough crowd." Val quipped as they began helping Whiskey out of the room and down the corridor. "You know, whatever you get paid for this, I hope you know it isn't enough to warrant going through torture..."

"Shut up and walk... or so help me God..." Whiskey grumbled.

June 8th, 2021. Tidworth, England. 1218 hours.

Val watched how the door to the helo was slid open, a couple of doctors and medics on the other side, already scrambling to help transfer Whiskey to a wheelchair, to take her in for further examination.

The doctors over at Izmir Air Station in Turkey, to which Val had taken Whiskey per Laswell's orders, had done little else than stabilize her and get her hydrated, fed and on medication, before transport was arranged back to England.

But they worried, of course they did. She was in a sorry fucking state... Even if she was alive and doing better than when Val first found her.

"Wait." She groaned at the doctors and raised her head to look at Val, beckoning them closer. "C'mere."

Val approached, only to have Whiskey's hand reach out to bring them close, allowing the American to whisper in their ear.

At first, they didn't know what was being said to them, just a string of nonsensical numbers that seemed to have no rhyme or reason...

Only for, as she pulled away, Whiskey to add:

"I owe you. Call me if you need anything."

for @superhero-landing because our OCs are basically ebsties from this point forth.

[somethingsomethingwords]

So, part 2 of this. Faster than I imagined, but I really wanted to share this one. I honestly just love it. Enjoy 💜

And just like that, war is over.

The last monsters either turn into golden dust or run away from the Gods' fury.

At camp, Seb managed to protect the children. They are all safe, unharmed. They are alive.

Sebastian feels like he could cry for a week straight, then fall asleep for two months and wake up, just to start crying again.

But he still has duties.

Between the traitors and the fallen, they are gonna need every hand on deck.

First step: reassure the children.

They are four in total. The son of Apollo and the Hypnos kid are hugging so thigh he can't tell where one ends and the other starts. Then there is a daughter of Hephaestus that's just staring ahead, eyes wide and unseeing. The last one, the smallest one, his little sister, has a too heavy sword in her hand, and stands between her friends and Seb's back, the last line of defence if he was to fall.

When every threat is gone, he turns around to see all the kids are now crying, small bodies shaking with a weight that no one should bear, especially this young.

Sebastian falls to his knees, not caring about his wounds, and silently opens his arms.

The children rush to him, and the hug is like a balm for his battered heart.

This is why he stayed, to protect their futures.

When he disentangles himself from the hug, kids still clinging together, he looks around.

No one has returned, and he doesn't know what these old half burnt half destroyed wooden buildings could do to help even if they had.

He is about to stand up and start some sort of triage zone for the wayward wounded, when he feels his pant leg being pulled. His eyes meet the eyes of the son of Apollo, who left the arms of his friend but not their hand.

"I think we should go to the city"

He is shocked by this. The idea of bringing literal children to a battlefield horrifies him. He is about to firmly shut down the idea, when his sister speaks.

"We are useless here. There, we can help" as if it's normal, even expected, for these preteens to witness the horrors of the war.

"No, I'm not taking you. It's too dangerous" he hates the idea so much.

"We can help. We have to. We can heal them, or help them sleep" says the small child of Hypnos, and he hates that they are starting to convince him. After all, he has his own reasons for wanting to be there. Namely a pair of green eyes and two of the cutest dimples ever.

The last kid, the one that still hasn't spoken, is the final nail to the coffin.

"I know where we can find a car" she simply says, starting moving towards Hades knows where.

He'll just have to follow them and drive then. He doesn't even have a driving licence, for fuck's sake.

So he makes a plan. He is taking the children to the city. But first, he stops to prepare five bags with as many packs of ambrosia, bags of nectar and gauze as he can.

After giving one to each of the children, they start walking towards the car. There is no point in just waiting around, he tries to convince himself.

The car ride is bumpy, but nobody complains. They are all silently preparing for what they'll see, and storing all the energy they can master.

He leaves the car somewhere, and starts just going. He will find what he is looking for soon enough. It's destiny, after all, and he promised.

After two turns, they can see an improvised medic camp.

With his hands full of the smaller ones, he gets closer.

The first to notice them is Lewis. The son of Apollo looks exhausted, face pale and hands glowing. But when he is near, they just hug for the longest second ever.

"Seb, what.." starts saying Lewis, but his own brother interrupts him.

"We are here to help, Lew. I can help with small wounds so you can focus on the big ones, and Oscar can help people sleep, if we can't help them" Lando sounds so logical, and Sebastian really hates everything that led to this moment.

Lewis looks at the kids, then nods, sad.

"Ok. But I want you to never separate from each other, ok? You four stay together" the four demigods nod rapidly, only to disappear in the chaos.

Seb goes to follow them, but is soon stopped by Lewis.

He just looks at his friend in the eyes.

"Where is he?" he finally asks, needing to know what happened to Charles.

"I don't know. We saw you, well him, coming with your armour and making plans with some of the Athena's kids, then splitting his group and attacking" Lewis slowly shakes his head.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" he will not be useless as he was for the actual fight.

"Yeah, go find him. Bring him back, or carry his body back to us" with one final nod, Lewis disappears, going to heal as many people as he can.

Sebastian starts walking. He sees friends impaled and foes torn apart. A blond head without half of its body makes his heart stop. He thinks he recognises every body he sees, and he'll never be able to forget a single second of this, but none of them is the son of Aphrodite.

He keeps walking. He goes on and on and on for what feels like centuries, then a small sound makes him turn his head towards one of the lateral streets. There, sitting with a child under his right arm and another one with their head on his leg, that's where Seb sees Charles.

From this far away he can't tell if he is alive or not, so he moves as fast as his leg allows him towards the trio.

He must make some kind of noise, because the child quickly turns her head towards him and raises Charles' dagger, the black metal shiny in her shaking hands.

"Arrêtez-vous. Stop there, don't come closer" says the kid, shaking with fear but still protective of the other. Sebastian feels his heart warm just a bit. His lover has always been able to inspire absolute loyalty even after just a few minutes of people meeting him.

So he stops, and drops to his knees.

"Bonjour, je suis Sebastian. Charles est mon petit copain. Can I get closer, so I can help him?" he hopes his french is not so bad that the girl can't understand him. Charles was giving him lessons, but when he heard him speak his native language there was very little attention dedicated to learning, and a lot of focus on kissing.

The little one does a one eighty. She widens her eyes and drops the blade.

"You are Seb? He was talking about you before falling asleep. I tried to talk to him, but he said he was tired" the kid is now almost crying.

Seb walks closer and kneels in front of the girl.

"You did a wonderful job staying with him and protecting him. Now I'll take care of him" he tries to comfort the kid giving her a smile.

Then he looks at Charles, and everything stops.

His face is pale and with a bad cut from his eyebrow to his chin touching the left eye and his mouth and barely missing his nose; his chest, now free from his breastplate, is slashed open and his right leg lies at a strange angle.

And he has no idea what his internal conditions are.

When he goes to touch him, Seb sees Charles' right eye opening.

His lips mouth his name, but he emits no sound. Then his head minutely moves toward the body on his left leg.

How are they doing? I can't see, Charles seems to say. It breaks Sebastian's heart all over again.

When he looks at the body lying, he can see they are pale and not breathing.

He looks at Charles and shakes his head. Twin tears fall from his eyes, one salty water and the other bloody.

He slowly reaches towards the body, and lifts their head from Charles' leg to the pavement.

"Hey, what do you think about helping me carry him to the medical tents? There my friends will help him" he says calmly to the girl.

She starts shaking her head, and he frowns.

"I can't go back to camp. I have been bad. I followed my sister. I knew she was wrong but I still left. I can't " she starts crying, and starts to stand up and leave.

"Pierre, don't" starts Charles, trying to stop her.

Sebastian and her both stop breathing when he lets out a pained whine.

"You didn't hurt anyone and it's not your fault for your sister's choices" explains Sebastian, taking her hand and lightly squeezing.

Together, they manage to make Charles stand up, then as carefully as he can, Sebastian picks him up. He starts walking slowly towards the tents, two different hands holding his orange t-shirt, but he accelerates when he distinctly feels Charles' hand going lax.

They quickly reach the improvised hospital, and there Seb quickly finds Lewis already looking in their direction.

When he gets close enough, he deposits Charles on a makeshift operating table. He wasn't going to leave his side, but then he remembers Pierre.

Her big eyes are now watery, and he can clearly see she is holding her right arm.

After a silent conversation with Lewis, he takes her to the other kids.

Logan and Oscar are napping, while Lando seems to be rapidly falling asleep. Yuki stands guard, her face firm and fists tight.

When Lando sees Seb, he suddenly stands up.

"You're back" he says simply, half happy half surprised.

"Yes, and I brought a friend. She is Pierre, and she has a cut on her arm. Can you help her?"

"There is no need" says Pierre quickly, shaking her head. But the boy won't let go of her left hand, holding it tightly but gently, so Sebastian leaves them together.

He walks around the tent, not really seeing anything, too focused on where he needs to be.

When he reaches Lewis, his face tells him everything he needs to know. The situation is bad, and the son of Apollo doesn't know if Charles will survive.

Sebastian feels all the bones in his body shatter. After everything that has happened, he will get his happy ending.

He and Charles will go to college, studying environmental science and architecture respectively.

They will find an apartment and move together.

This is not the end. It cannot be.

So he just sits on a chair next to the table Charles is lying on, Lewis still stitching him up and muttering curses as much as prayers, and he himself starts praying to whichever divinity can help, no matter what pantheon they belong to.

He just needs this one favour, this one miracle.

Sebastian doesn't know how long he sits, but it must have been a while. So long he even falls asleep. He only wakes up because the kids arrive, looking dishevelled and tired. So he drops on the ground and just opens his arms. They are soon filled with little bodies.

After shuffling for a bit, they settle down. Skin contact is so needed and appreciated.

He spends the rest of the time watching in front of himself without seeing, and carding his hand through somebody's hair.

He only startles when Charles begins twitching.

He gently pushes the kids off his body, and goes to hold the other's hand.

He is now trembling so much he almost falls off the table.

Then, when he seems to have calmed down, Charles lets out the most animalistic scream of raw pain, back painfully arched, and collapses on the table.

[nanakorobiyaokii]

endo saw his pretty cute face and said "I can never win against him" ꉂ(≧▽≦)

[aventurineswife]

HEYYYYYYY if I can may I ask for Aventurine, Sunday and Dan Hang protecting reader when they get badly injured protecting them please ( I’ve been desperate for some angst and comfort recently with them 😭😭 )

“If I Fall, Let It Be for You”

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Sunday x Reader, Dan Heng x Reader, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Protectiveness, Sacrifice, Vulnerability, Emotional Conflict, Guilt, Platonic or Romantic Love, Selflessness, Inner Struggles.

Warnings: Graphic injury, Blood, Violence, Desperation, Guilt, Emotional distress, Death-related themes.

A/N: Hope you like this!! 🫣

The battlefield stretched before you, a blur of smoke and chaos. You had acted on instinct—throwing yourself in front of Dan Heng to block a strike meant for him. The blade tore through your side, pain radiating through your body as you stumbled.

“[Name]!” Dan Heng’s voice, usually so calm and composed, cracked as he caught you in his arms. His eyes widened, a rare display of emotion breaking through his stoic mask.

You gave him a weak smile, your hand clutching the bleeding wound. “You’re safe. That’s all that matters.”

His jaw tightened, and his grip on you was firm yet trembling. “You should never have done that.” There was an edge to his voice, sharp and laden with guilt.

You tried to speak, but the pain was overwhelming. Darkness crept at the edges of your vision, and you felt yourself fading.

“Stay with me,” Dan Heng ordered, his voice softer now but no less desperate. He cradled you closer, his usually steady hands pressing against your wound to stem the bleeding. “You can’t leave me. Not like this.”

He carried you swiftly to a safe spot behind the ruins, shielding you from the chaos. His spear, Cloud-Piercer, stood guard nearby, its sharp tip still dripping with the blood of your enemies. Dan Heng tore a strip of fabric from his coat, fashioning a makeshift bandage to stop the bleeding.

“Why?” he asked quietly, his gaze fixed on your pale face. “Why would you put yourself in harm’s way for me?”

You managed a weak chuckle despite the pain. “Because I care about you, Dan Heng. Even if you keep pushing people away, I won’t stop protecting you.”

His breath hitched, and for a moment, his usual reserve cracked. “I don’t deserve it. Not after everything I’ve done… everything I’ve failed to prevent.”

“You’re wrong,” you whispered, your hand reaching up to brush against his cheek. “You’re worth it to me.”

Dan Heng’s eyes softened, guilt and sorrow mingling with something deeper—something he had tried so hard to suppress. He didn’t speak, but his actions spoke volumes. He leaned into your touch, his fingers brushing your hair as if trying to commit every detail of you to memory.

“I won’t let anything happen to you,” he promised, his voice low but resolute. “Not again.”

Dan Heng stayed by your side, his spear within reach, ready to defend you from any further threat. The battle raged on around you, but his focus never wavered. He wasn’t just protecting you now—he was protecting the fragile hope you had given him, the chance for something beyond the weight of his past.

And in his quiet way, Dan Heng vowed to repay the trust you had shown him, no matter the cost.

The echoes of the gunfire still reverberated in the empty corridors, a cruel reminder of the chaos that had just unfolded. Aventurine stood frozen for a moment, the world around him slowing to a crawl. The usually confident smirk plastered on his face had vanished, replaced by a rare expression of raw, unfiltered fear.

You lay crumpled on the ground, your blood pooling beneath you. You had thrown yourself in front of him, a human shield against the sniper's bullet that had been meant for his chest.

“Why?” Aventurine whispered, his voice trembling as he knelt beside you, his gloved hands hesitating before pressing against your wound. His pristine, gold-adorned sleeves soaked in crimson as he tried to stem the bleeding. "You absolute fool. What were you thinking?"

Your eyes fluttered open, a weak smile playing on your lips despite the pain. "Because I knew you'd never let yourself be hit," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. "You're too important... too smart to take risks like that."

Aventurine let out a bitter laugh, one that sounded more like a sob. "And yet here you are, bleeding out because of me," he muttered, his tone laced with guilt and frustration. "You're supposed to stay out of the crossfire, not throw yourself into it like some kind of martyr."

The mask he wore so effortlessly in high-stakes games and political negotiations shattered in that moment. He was no longer the composed strategist, the man who always had a plan. He was just Kakavasha—terrified, helpless, and desperate to keep you alive.

“Stay with me,” he commanded, his voice shaking as he pulled out his communicator and barked orders for immediate medical assistance. “You don’t get to leave like this. Not here, not now.”

Your hand weakly reached up, brushing against his cheek. "I trust you, Aventurine," you whispered, your voice faltering. "You'll fix this... you always do."

His eyes shimmered with unshed tears as he pressed his forehead against yours. "I’m a gambler, not a miracle worker," he admitted softly, his usual bravado nowhere to be found. "But if there’s one thing I never bet against... it’s you."

The minutes felt like hours as he stayed by your side, murmuring reassurances that neither of you believed. His mind raced, calculating odds and outcomes, but none of his usual strategies could guarantee your survival. For the first time in years, Aventurine felt powerless.

When the medics finally arrived, he refused to leave your side, riding with you to the emergency unit despite their protests. As the doors closed behind them and the sterile lights flickered above, Aventurine made a silent vow.

No matter the cost, he would ensure you lived to see another gamble, another day by his side. Because without you, even victory would feel like defeat.

The clash of blades and the sound of explosions filled the air, but Sunday’s focus was solely on you. The two of you had been ambushed, and though he had held his ground, one stray attacker had slipped through his defenses, aiming for his unprotected flank.

You hadn’t hesitated. You’d stepped in without thinking, intercepting the blow meant for him. Now, you lay slumped against a ruined wall, clutching your side as blood seeped through your fingers.

“Why... why would you do that?” Sunday asked, his voice trembling as he knelt beside you. His eyes, usually so calm and composed, were wide with panic. He pressed his hands over yours, trying to stop the bleeding. The glow of his halo seemed dimmer, as if it mirrored the dread coursing through him.

“You needed protecting,” you gasped, a weak smile crossing your lips. “That’s what friends do, right?”

“Foolish,” Sunday whispered, his tone a mixture of frustration and anguish. "I am the one who should be protecting you." He gently brushed a strand of hair from your face, his gloved hands trembling. “You shouldn’t have to suffer because of me.”

Your hand reached for his, squeezing weakly. "You’re worth it."

Sunday’s breath hitched, and for a moment, his dignified mask crumbled. "No one is worth losing you," he admitted, his voice barely audible. “Not even me.”

The world around the two of you seemed to fade away as Sunday focused solely on keeping you conscious. He whispered soft reassurances, his usually formal tone replaced with a raw, desperate plea. “Stay with me,” he urged. “I’ll fix this. I swear it.”

Using his limited healing abilities, Sunday poured his energy into stabilizing you. The effort left him visibly drained, his face pale and his breaths labored, but he refused to stop. "I’ve seen too much suffering," he murmured, more to himself than to you. "I won’t allow it to claim you."

As reinforcements arrived and medical aid was administered, Sunday stood by your side, his presence a steady anchor amidst the chaos. When you were finally safe, he let out a shaky breath, brushing his thumb across your knuckles.

"You risked yourself for me," he said quietly, his eyes softening. “But know this: I will never allow you to come to harm again. You are too precious to lose.”

In that moment, you saw a side of Sunday he rarely revealed—a man burdened by the weight of his ideals, yet willing to fight against them for the sake of someone he cherished.

[lavendergalactic]

☆ 　vincent layouts + dividers!

event prize for @ribbonrabbitdaycare f2u w/ credit, reblog appreciated

dead plate gets me so inspired guys (also this isn't a new post layouts i just thought i'd upload the diviers too in a special way)

[indieyuugure]

The Mutation Situation!

A Mysterious Chemical: Ep. 1, Ep. 2, Ep. 3, Ep. 4, Ep. 5, Ep. 6. Ep. 7

Unveiled Disasters: Ep. 1, Ep. 2, Ep. 3, Ep. 4

Dudes, Tunes, and Mutagen: Ep. 1, Ep. 2, Ep. 3, Ep. 4, Ep. 5

Fading Fantasies: Ep. 1, Ep. 2, Ep. 3 Ep. 4. Ep. 5, Ep. 6

A Cure to a Curse: Ep. 1, Ep. 2 Ep. 3, Ep. 4

To support me in my coming projects, go to indiey.locals.com and become a supporter!

Updates are every Saturday! :]

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[a-scary-lack-of-common-sense]

What is the lore on the cast on his foot?

It’s from the same car crash that gave him the chip in his tooth!

Basically, when Ford blasted his brain with Project Mentem, it reacted very badly because: 1. His head wound from his previous (attempted) surgery wasn’t fully closed, and 2. He had tampered with the machine to make its effects more potent.

But, then I thought to myself: wow, there is no way this motherfucker realistically survived malnutrition, sleep deprivation, mutilation (from Bill), a botched auto-brain surgery (in unsanitary conditions) AND getting basically electrocuted until his brain scrambled. I mean, plot armour is cool and all, but this seems a little excessive.

So, I was like: how can I get this guy to go to the hospital without having to call an ambulance to his place, and accidentally reveal the existence of the portal to the authorities wayyy too early in the timeline?

Solution? Hit him with a car.

[No blood version.]

So this is what happens: Ford wakes back up in his underground lab, disoriented, confused, and overwhelmed. In his dazed delirium, he somehow manages to leave his shack and finds himself staggering around in the woods aimlessly. Then, he walks into the road and gets hit by a car. He is sent to the hospital, and he gets a little bit better with their treatment so that he isn’t on the brink of death (although they were unable to pry the metal out of his head without causing serious issues). But ultimately, he freaks out when he wakes up in the hospital like a week later and instantly ditches the place, rushing back into the town streets. His injuries weren’t fully healed by the time he woke up though, so he was stuck with the cast and the chip in his front tooth.

[st-hedge]

On the topic of mgr! I finally found the will again to mess around with the mgr/automata crossover au 💪 I was comparing the credits for mgr and automata since they were both cobbled together by platinum games and of course there was a lot of crossover but confirming it felt so satisfying (Wahooo- that’s why the games fit together so well! It’s like they were meant for a crossover). Alas more design thoughts for this au. I wish I finally had a tag for this stupid fucking ass idea

[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

[pangur-and-grim]

here’s how my broken leg looks, if anyone wants to see!

I can’t make my foot go straight, so it’s still bent at this angle. not the most dramatic looking injury possible, but you can kinda tell that it’s fucked

[fizzypipz]

Jack Conte - Yeah Yeah Yeah

[magickkart]

Oops. Sorry. Corrupted your assistants accidentally :/

[clangenrising]

Month 19 - Leaffall

Content Warning: This piece includes content that may be triggering to some viewers. See this post for details.

Prev | First | Next

Lakepaw was trying to sleep, her head aching and her skin clammy, when the night was split by sudden caterwauling. She jolted out of her nest, head swimming, as a cacophony of screaming voices flooded into the den from outside. 

“What’s going on?” Sagetooth groaned weakly, trying to sit up.

“I dunno,” Lakepaw whispered. Steadying herself, she crept quickly and quietly to the mouth of the den, staying low and light on her paws. Out in the clearing, a horde of cats was engaged in combat, hissing and clawing at each other with bloody muzzles and fur between their claws. Lakepaw’s eyes widened in fear. 

“It’s rogues!” she whispered back to Sagetooth. “There’s rogues in camp!” 

“Fox-dung!” Sagetooth spat under her breath.

Lakepaw tried to pick familiar faces out of the storm of fur and teeth. There, Yarrowshade dodged blows from two separate kittypets. There, Pantherhaze tumbled with a black and white cat twice his size. There, Ospreymask grabbed a kittypet by the ear and tore him off of Slatepaw’s struggling form only for another cat to lunge for the apprentice’s tail as soon as she was on her feet. The warriors were outnumbered and fighting tooth and nail to keep their heads above the metaphorical water. 

“Get off me!” Lakepaw heard Yellowkit screaming and her gaze whipped to the nursery where a scarred smoky tabby was struggling to lift the kit by the scruff while another kittypet pursued Bluekit deeper into the den. 

“I have to go help them!” Lakepaw said, looking back at Sagetooth. The old healer had heaved herself from her nest and tossed the moss from her forehead, stumbling back to the herb stores with a wobbly step. She didn’t seem to register what Lakepaw had said and suddenly she wasn’t so sure if she should leave Sagetooth alone. 

“This way,” she heard a stranger’s voice close by and instinctively pressed herself against the wall of the den and out of sight. “Their herbs are stored in one of these dens.” 

“Not this one,” another voice said from somewhere to the side -- Goldenstar’s den, most likely.

Lakepaw backed away from the entrance, tail bristling and tried to make herself as big as she could. If the rogues got to the herbs, cats would surely die of injuries. She couldn’t let that happen. Besides, Sagetooth was back there, heat-stricken and vulnerable. Lakepaw took a slow deep breath and tried to remember everything Floodstrike had taught her, deeply grateful she had been putting in extra battle training hours lately. 

Two kittypets pushed their way into the den, the first of them a smallish brown tabby with a dark mask and a silver collar. He narrowed his eyes as he saw her, back arching slightly. The other, standing a step behind him, was a white, snub-nosed tom who raised his brows and cocked his head, an amused smile on his face.

“Aww, she’s trying to be intimidating,” the white cat purred mockingly. “Should we take her with us too?” 

“If you want to deal with her, be my guest,” the tabby scowled. “I’m going to do what we came here for.” He took a step forward and Lakepaw hissed loudly, rearing up on her toes. 

“Stay back!” she spat, “You’re not allowed in here!” 

“Oh no,” the tabby said sarcastically, “I guess we’ll have to turn around.” Then he glanced over his shoulder and said, “Casper?”  

The white cat shouldered his way past the tabby and prowled towards her, grinning. Lakepaw knew she had to move. She bunched her legs underneath her and lunged at his face, swatting at him with a series of quick claw strikes. He hissed and reared back before headbutting her squarely in the nose. She cried out and thumped gracelessly onto the ground. Her pre-existing headache throbbed nauseatingly and she nearly gagged when a heavy paw pressed down on her abdomen. She vaguely registered the tabby picking his way past her with careful pawsteps. 

He opened his mouth to scent the air as he ventured deeper, saying to himself, “Alright, now where are those-” 

He cried out suddenly as Sagetooth’s familiar hiss sounded over the noise of a solid thwap. Lakepaw tilted her head to watch the kittypet recoiling, blood pooling over the bridge of his nose. Sagetooth had apparently been waiting around the corner and now she struck out again, scraping her claws against his cheek. 

“Get out, you faithless, snake-hearted kittypets!” the old healer snarled, swaying on her feet. “Begone! And may StarClan curse you for all your days!” 

“You backwards old hag!” the tabby spat back and struck Sagetooth on the side of the head so hard that her face collided with the wall of the den. With a loud thunk, she slid to the ground, groaning weakly. 

Lakepaw twisted and bit the paw pinning her down as hard as she could. Casper yanked it back with a hiss of pain and she scrambled to her feet then charged the smaller tom. With a leap, she sank her claws into his back and the two of them toppled under her momentum. The tom cried out, flailing his legs in her direction, but she clung tightly with her forepaws and rabbit-kicked as hard as she could with claws unsheathed. His flesh tore under her blows and another wave of nausea overtook her just long enough for the tom to wrench himself free from her grasp. 

“Insufferable little-!” the tabby puffed up as he got to his feet, looking like he’d just suffered a terrible indignity. 

“Lakepaw, run,” Sagetooth managed to say, shifting her weight as she tried to stand. 

“Ah, ah, ah!” the tom said as if correcting a naughty kitten and smacked Sagetooth sharply on the forehead again. She crumpled to the ground but that didn’t stop him. He kept raining blows on her head one after the other after the other. Lakepaw screamed and lunged for him but Casper intercepted her with a hook of his claws, pulling her tight to his chest. She thrashed, vision blurring through tears, but couldn’t seem to free herself. 

“That’s what you get!” the tabby shrieked with one final strike. “How dare you lay your paws on me?!” Lakepaw held her breath and strained her ears but Sagetooth didn’t even moan. A tense silence filled the den, contrasted by the sounds of battle still raging outside. Lakepaw desperately blinked the tears from her eyes and nearly burst into tears again when she saw the blood dripping out of Sagetooth’s nose, the healer’s eyelids moving sluggishly over her fully dilated pupils. 

“Sagetooth!” she wailed, paws shaking. 

The tabby took a deep, slow breath and let it out shakily then ran his tongue over his paw like he had dirtied it by touching her. When he straightened back up, he was wearing a placid smile as if nothing had happened. 

“Right,” he said to himself, glancing over at the cat holding Lakepaw captive. “Are you really going to bother with that thing?” He frowned at her in distaste. 

“Maybe,” Casper shrugged. “We’re here for their kits, aren’t we?” Lakepaw trembled against his chest, too afraid to move. 

“We’re here for the exalted kits,” the tabby scoffed. “This one’s a savage through and through. Look, she’s already bitten you. Just be done with her and help me with the actually important work.” 

“Fine,” Casper sighed and suddenly teeth were in Lakepaw’s throat. She gasped sharply, clawed at his face and kicked at the paws holding her still but they didn’t budge. With a tug of his head, he ripped something in her neck and then dropped her to the floor, stepping over her with a few quick strides. She fumbled to stand but collapsed again, slipping in her own blood as it soaked her fur all the way down her right foreleg and pattered into the dirt. 

“Everything gets destroyed,” the tabby said. “I don’t want a single usable leaf left.” 

“Whatever you say, Sardine,” said Casper. 

Lakepaw crawled across the floor, feeling dizzy. It took all of her strength to drag herself over to Sagetooth and gently rest their foreheads against each other. 

“It’s… gonna be okay, Sagetooth,” she murmured, closing her eyes so she could focus on the words. “We just have to hang on… It’s gonna be… okay…” Sagetooth didn’t respond. Lakepaw sniffled and tried to purr, hoping that maybe -- just maybe -- that would be enough to keep Sagetooth awake until someone came to help them.

UPDATES: - Sagetooth and Lakepaw are killed by rogues.

[wintersoulwitch]

Seeming - The Burial / In the Earth (2021) AO3 ¦ YouTube

[bisasterbuckley]

i'm so sorry for this 🫣

911 as text posts 44/?