#tw: major character injuries

[untoldsoup]

Worked on this all day to make sure I could get this update out earlier than planned lol. Thanks for all your patience over the past 1.5 months waiting for this update!! Anyway big things coming in part two! Please read the tags for this before reading as some content can bother some people. Comments appreciated i worked so hard on this.

previous: chapter 1 and 2

next: here

This is a sequel! First comic can be found here.

[radio-writes]

It's about time for your blood to spill + you should sleep + we were soulmates

(Congrats on the 300 followers btw!)

Now, The Echoes Interlace

300 Followers Event

Warnings: Blood, physical injuries to reader, ambiguous major character death(s), angst

Tags: Alastor x reader, gn reader, relationship can be read in any way

MDNI

"You always have looked so pretty in red, Al." You hummed as your combed your fingers through his soft hair. You pressed your fingers against his scalp, lightly massaging against his antlers.

The light static that varied in volume crackled. "Fuck you." Alastor managed to say as his head laid on your lap.

His smile was strained—present, of course, as it always was, but strained. The trail of blood from his mouth dripped from his chin, joining the warm pool under both your bodies.

"Rude." You scolded him. Your breath coming out in a hiss as Alastor dug his claws into an open wound on your leg. 

"Must you continue to hurt me? You're already dying." You glared down at him as you would at a misbehaving pet.

You leaned forward, easily removing his hand from your body without much of a struggle. He only had so much strength left after all. 

"Fuck you." Alastor repeated, static morphing his voice this time around.

"Yes, well, I get that you're mad, Al." You continued your casual tone. "But it was about time for your blood to spill, don't you think?"

You grunted as you leaned your back against the cold wall again, sighing as the tension on the wound across your stomach was lessened.

"F—"

"Fuck me, yes yes." You cut him off. "Save your strength or you'll die out faster."

Alastor didn't mean to listen to you, but he just felt far too tired to argue otherwise.

Your hand returned to his head, damp with sweat and blood, and yet somehow still so adorably fluffy. Leave it to this guy to still look so presentable even when dying a second time around.

Your fingers scratched at one of his tufts of hair, causing it to give a slight, involuntary twitch.

"So they are ears." Your voice was soft. "I always assumed but was never really sure, you know?"

Alastor didn't respond. His red eyes continued to glare at you.

He adjusted his hands to lay over his chest. A weak attempt to slow his loss of blood. He didn't even have enough energy to press on it anymore.

"Hey, Al." You wheezed, breath slightly knocked from you. You had adjusted the way you sat so the demon could lay more comfortably on your lap. "Do you remember how we first met?"

"You told me that cheesy pick up line. How'd it go again?" Your hand paused as you tried to remember. 

A rather dashing demon slid up to you at the bar; charming, sharp smile, on full display. You've seen all sorts of sinners by now, but none so happy while rotting in hell.

You expected him to sell you drugs, or quite bluntly tell you to sleep with him. What you got instead was a very corny: 

"You must be buried treasure, because I am absolutely digging you." You let out a tired laugh, hand continuing to pet Alastor once more.

The sound of static crackling again was the only response you got. You think it meant fuck you. 

"Well you must be treasure as well, Al. Because it seems I'll be burying you tonight." You met Alastor's harsh glare with a soft smile.

"What? That absolutely was funny, you can't deny it." You defended yourself.

Alastor didn't think him dying was funny at all, actually, but he didn't exactly have any energy left to say that.

His smile was a tight, close lipped one, but you see his lips try to curl just a tiny bit in what you assumed would have been a snarl. 

"You always thought I was hilarious." Your own hand moving over the gash on your neck as if it was a mild inconvenience. You titled your head as you looked down at the demon on your lap. "What changed?"

Alastor merely glared at you.

Your eyes traveled down his body, staying on the deep wound oozing across his chest.

"That's not fair, Al." You laughed tiredly, eyes staying on his bloodied torso. "I always thought you were incredibly handsome—sinfully so really. But your attempts at killing me never changed that."

"Fuck you." The static over his voice was gone now. His tone was as spiteful, angry, and condescending as always, but much, much weaker.

Your eyes drifted back to his face. His smile was still present, but his lovely red eyes seemed more unfocused than they were a second ago.

Your hand in his hair stopped their movements. For a moment, the world was still as you wondered if your company had already left.

But it was merely for a heart beat, as a ragged breath from his lips snapped time back into motion.

You pealed your fingers from his hair, bringing them down to softly rub your knuckles down his cheek. He doesn't so much as flinch, but, you knew he would have had he been able to.

"Hey, old pal." You cooed softly. "You should sleep, you look so very tired."

His fingers on his chest twitched once, but you didn't get much of a reply anymore after that.

You sighed heavily. Your hands rested on his face as you leaned your head against the wall behind you, face craned upwards to the red sky that covered all of Hell.

Your own eyes closed, realizing just how tired and weary you yourself were.

Still, you were never one to be silent around a friend—or foe. It had always been unclear to you when it came to Alastor.

"We were soulmates, wouldn't you say so, Al?" You continued softly. "But in a funnier way, I think, where we were always meant to destroy the other."

Alastor's skin felt as it always did beneath your fingers. The stench of blood heavy as it always was around him. You felt his familiar eerie presence by you, as you always did.

And yet, you were unsure if he actually was still there. You were quite conflicted about how you were supposed to feel about that, truth be told.

"Fuck you, old friend." You sighed, eyes remaining closed, smile tiredly stretching across your own lips.

[aainiouu]

Just…

———

Buck gets reckless again, with his own life, and he gets hurt.

He gets hurt rescuing Tommy.

And when Tommy gets to Buck, him being little banged up but otherwise ok and Buck knocking on death’s door.

Buck grins and coughs out and he’s clinging to conciousness.

”I bet you didn’t see this coming, that actually, you would be my last.”

Tommy screams ”Evan! EVAN!?”

But Buck can no longer hear him.

———

Sorry?

[clangenrising]

Month 19 - Leaffall

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.

[hmshermitcraft]

joel had a head. two arms. two legs. plain to see. he also had one pair of wings. it wasn't plain to see.

so he lied. he said he was as human as the sky was blue. and then when they asked about his antenna, something he forgot humans didn't have, he lied some more. one quarter ogre he said. said he loved shrek to seal the deal a bit more.

nobody needed to know about the remains of his wings, charred edges that stuck out like small pretty and shimmering blue pieces of burnt paper against scarred skin.

he'd never fly again. that was plain to see.

so nobody needed to know what happened or why.

that's how he liked it.

that's how he would've liked it.

because as like all things, grian knew. joel didn't want to know how or why, but he knew.

And yet, Grian never does anything about it. If anything, the guy seems more awkward around Joel for knowing. It's like a strange, unspoken issue neither of them dare bring up. Makes for some stupidly awkward conversations; Joel feels bad for all the friends he's dragged in to mediate.

And yet, when Joel is dealing with pain from the scarring, he spots Grian fleeing from his house. He doesn't think the guy saw Joel, and Joel finds a pot of cream that ends up working better than anything he's tried before left behind.

Joel leaves some flowers. As thanks. It's the best he has to offer.

[typicalopposite]

𝙴𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝙸 𝚃𝚛𝚢 𝚃𝚘 𝙵𝚕𝚢 (𝙸 𝙵𝚊𝚕𝚕)

BuckTommy Fic | M | 41,371 Words

Link to AO3 | Original Tumblr Post

Summary: They tried to tell him. They tried to warn him. He let his own inner voices be louder than the ones who were pleading with him to look at the damage he was causing. Then when he finally decides to listen… It's too late.

There is blood on his hands…

Tommy’s blood is on his hands…

Hello beautiful people! I decided to just make my normal Fic Post for this last one, so if you're just finding this fic, the ao3 link will take you to chapter one. If you're all caught up, the epilogue is posted to ao3 now I just want to thank you all for going along this ride with me! I really never expected it to become what it did, it was just a sad little idea I had... but I'm really glad I wrote it! <3

Tagging the OG's and then some that showed interest from the beginning. Hope you all enjoy it <3

@bucksxkinard @30somethingautisticteacher @girlwonder-writes @kinkley-are-adorkable-flirts @sira1420 @somethingaboutfirefly @ilikethe-internet @itsametaphorok @mannafromtevan @marvelousbuckley

@houseofevanbuckley @parrishjeanna @samar-arijjj @peppermintquartz @saraliiinn @sunset-bobby @onthewaytosomewhere

[all-the-gory-details]

My request: A Whumpee who's crying from pain being comforted by something or someone scary

TW: captivity, injury, choking, beating, death

The cellar was dark.

There was no light except the fading daylight that seeped through a small basement window, and even that would soon be gone.

Whumpee wrapped their arms tighter around themself, backing further into the corner furthest away from the stairs.

When Whumper had thrown them down here, it was still light outside. They had banged on the locked door, tried to reach the window so high up on the wall.

Eventually, Whumper came back.

They didn't dare make any noise after he left.

Their throat was still painfully sore from Whumper's hands. Bruises covered their body, and they were pretty sure they had a broken rib or two.

God it hurt.

"I'm sorry."

Whumpee's head snapped up, eyes searching the dark cellar. There... was nothing. Nobody there.

"H-hello?" They called out, voice cracking and hoarse, barely able to push out the word.

When the translucent figure appeared suddenly, only a foot in front of them, they couldn't even scream.

The ghost backed up, eyes widening in realization. "Don't be scared, I won't hurt you." Its voice was soft and sounded strange, like the words were being spoken from the other end of a long tunnel.

Whumpee shook like a leaf, wide, terrified eyes not daring to stray from the spector. "Y-you're a ghost-"

"I am."

"What... why? Why are you here? C-can you help me?"

The spirit seemed to deflate a bit, biting its lip as it shook its head. "I cannot. I am stuck here as much as you are. I'm sorry."

"You... stuck? What do you mean, stuck?"

The ghost looked up, eyes filled with sorrow. "You... are not the first Whumper has taken. I wish I could help you. The most I can do is tell you I know what you're going through."

Whumpee's eyes widened, tears welling up at the realization. Whumper had killed before... and they would probably kill again.

Only this time, it was their life on the line.

It was a few minutes before they could compose themself enough to speak again. They didn't know what to ask...

Finally, they wiped their eyes on the back of their hand, sniffling. "Does... does it hurt?"

"Dying? No. What hurts is what comes before. But it will end, one way or another. And I will be here no matter what. You won't be alone."

Whumpee nodded, sniffling. The broken ribs hurt so much. Being choked was worse. They couldn't imagine what else was in store. They didn't want to imagine.

Finally, after a few long moments, they wet their lips. "Can... can you hold me? Please?"

They looked up to the ghost, which hesitated for a moment before moving closer. It sat next to them, as much as a ghost could sit, and put an arm around Whumpee tenderly.

Whumpee couldn't feel pressure on their side or around their shoulders, but they could see it. Contact with the ghost felt tingly and warm, almost like a limb falling asleep, but without the pain of the pinpricks.

Whumpee sighed, leaning their head against the wall. "Whats your name? I'm assuming you heard Whumper say mine earlier."

The ghost nodded. "I'm Caretaker."

"Caretaker..." Whumpee repeated sleepily. "...thank you. For helping."

Caretaker smiled sadly as Whumpee fell asleep in their arms, gently stroking their hair with as much corporality as it could muster. "I'm sorry I couldn't do more, Whumpee. I'm so sorry."

[mika-writes-fanfics]

As It Was

Dabi x Reader Angst

Warnings/tags: angst, hurt/no comfort, brief mentions of burns, major character death, pre-established relationship, reader cares for flowers

Synopsis: Dabi returns to you after completing his life's mission, his body now badly burned and damaged. He wonders, will you accept him with open arms? Will you take what is left of him?

Author's note: I've been on a Hozier binge. "As It Was" from Wasteland, Baby! was giving me major Dabi vibes. This is kind of different from the content I usually like to write and read, but I felt so inspired I just had to write it. Word count: 1.1K

He’s now thankful your home is on the outer reaches of the city, tucked in a secluded pocket between the border of the forest and the concrete hell of the city. After what he’s done, there’s not a person in Japan that wouldn’t recognize his face. Had you not lived in the middle of nowhere, he’d already be arrested by some weak police officer or jumped by some rookie hero. 

It’s ironic, the thinks, that his opinion has changed. He hated it, at one point. You lived so far away from his shitty apartment at the time, meaning that every time he wanted to see you, he had to take the agonizingly long train rides. It was like you lived in a fucking retirement community since all the elderly would take the same train, giving him judgemental stares all the while. It pissed him off to no end. And if that wasn’t enough, being in the forest always reminded him of Sekoto. 

But still, he bore it all for you, back before he let his rage consume him. 

Before he devoted himself entirely to revenge. 

Before he started burning himself all over again. 

Before he fucked it all up.

Despite the way he left you, he hopes you’ll be kind enough to him to accept his return, to not instantly slam the door in his face.

If he even makes it to your doorstep, that is.

Each step he takes feels like a battle between life and death. These heavy and labored movements exhaust him, made worse by the state your driveway is in. Of all the days for it to rain, it just had to be today. The torrential downpours make the path harder to traverse. Mud clings to his boots with every trudging step he takes, threatening to suck him into the earth, burying him at his final resting place. 

The puddles of water settling in the tire tracks of your car show him grim reminders of his appearance, showing him glimpses of just how ghastly he’s become.

He’s a burnt husk of what he once was.

Nothing is left of him now that he's achieved his life’s purpose. 

The only thing that remains of him is this homing instinct to return to you.

To go back to the start. 

To give you what’s left of him.

To feel his final sensation of comfort.

To feel loved again.

He’s faced with the reality of how long it’s been when he finally catches sight of your home. In the year he was by your side, he never saw those Foxgloves bloom once, as he met you in the late summer. But now, judging by the towering violet, bell-shaped flowers framing the sides of your window, it’s been three years.

It’s in this moment that his mind replays the memory of the following summer, the one in which he noticed you agonizing over the flowerless plant beds. He remembers it, with surprising clarity amongst the mental fog. 

“Why do you bother taking care of those stupid flowers if they never fucking bloom?” He asked you, critically. 

“They’re foxgloves,” you answered. 

“So?”

“So, they do bloom, just biennially, and their flowering season just passed. You’ll see why I keep ‘em around in another year,” you explained.

The fact you even implied he’d still be in your life a year from then filled him with a sense of security. Whether you meant it or not, he took it as a promise, and kept it tucked in the darker reaches of his heart. 

Three long years have passed since he left you, since he abandoned you without a word. But he has known you have a patient side to you, he’s seen it in the way you always gave him space in his darkest days, how you allowed him the time to come back to you when he was ready, how you never took his frustrating habit of pushing you away to heart, weathering his toxicity with love and carefulness. Maybe, since you’re so patient, you have been waiting for him. If you welcomed those flowers despite their long absence, maybe you’d accept him, too. 

Normally, he’d sneer at the thought of you turning him into such a hopeless romantic, a weaker version of himself, but considering how there’s nothing left of him anyways, he’s fine with the idea. Maybe the positivity you give him would turn him into something beautiful again. 

He finally climbs up to your doorstep and stumbles against the door. When his shaky and weak hands turn the knob, expecting to be met with a locked door, it turns easily without resistance. Your door is unlocked, which in his state of hopeful delusion, he interprets as you waiting for him.

Maybe you knew he would come back.

You had made it easy for him to crawl back into your life.

Or maybe you just forgot to lock it. 

He swings open the door as he leans against the door frame. Any other time, the sound of the groaning hinges would grate at his ears, but right now, the sound feels familiar and comforting. It feels like nothing has changed, everything is as it once was.

He trudges deeper into your home, shambling past your living room and tracking mud all over your floors. There’s a pit of anxiety forming in his stomach the longer he walks through your home without seeing a glimpse of you. But it’s when he approaches the kitchen that he hears you humming, the sound calming his mind. 

His boots thud on your tiled floor, loud, and uneven. He sways as he walks, bumping into one of your dining chairs, the movement scraping the chair against the floor. Your humming abruptly cuts off at the sound and you turn to the source, on high alert, only to see him propping himself up against the walls.

A sharp gasp escapes your lungs. 

All he can see is you as the edges of his vision grey out. Against your better judgment, you rush over to him as his legs start buckling underneath him.  

He starts to collapse on the spot. You close the distance and open your arms around him, catching his fall and attempting to bear the brunt of his weight. 

Despite what he’s done, despite how he left you so suddenly, he can still feel your love for him.

It’s in the way you try to make sure he doesn’t fall, despite tripping being the least concern to him given his injuries.

It’s how your voice sounds frantic as you ask him if he’s okay if he can hear you, if he’s still in there.

It’s how you start to sob at seeing the state he’s in. 

You’re so worried about getting him to lie on the ground safely and checking his pulse that you fail to see him softly smiling at how you fuss over him, what’s left of his burnt face forcing out a peaceful expression. 

The last thing he hears, the last thing he feels, the last thing he thinks about, is you.

[sad-girl-hours23]

Sharing something I'm working on.

I love to read them, but I never thought I'd actually write a "crash that truck" fic. TW for Major Character injury

I'm still figuring out what this is & can be, but this literally came to me today after first, having a flash of Buck telling Tommy their relationship had "good bones." Cut to me listening to Don't Fear (The Reaper) a few hours later and well, this was born (my mind is a weird place, y'all)

Tommy stands with Evan in front of a Craftsman. He’s not sure he loves the boring, earthy tones but knowing Evan, he’s already imagined a thousand different ways to spruce it up. 

This is the fifth house they’ve looked at today and the headache forming at the base of his skull is urging him to finally just say yes to one. A voice in the back of his mind tells him he’s running out of time.

He looks at the covered porch and the decent sized yard and tries to picture a life here: coming home to Evan every day. His husband inevitably bringing home a stray animal, or three. Bringing home a baby, with tiny fingers and toes and Evan’s eyes. Watching their kids grow up. Growing old together.

Evan laces his fingers with Tommy’s, his hand burning against Tommy’s. Why’s he so cold? “I could see this being our forever home. It’s got good bones.”

It’s got good bones. Deja vu claws at the inside of Tommy’s brain. He really needs to take something for his growing headache.

Tommy laughs. “That is does, Evan.”

Evan tilts his head, furrowing his brow. He laughs, but it sounds wrong to Tommy’s ears somehow. “Since when do you call me, Evan?” 

The pain is growing brighter now, like flames licking at his skull. This is all wrong, but he can’t say why.

Evan walks toward the house. On the porch, he turns back to look at Tommy. “Are you coming?”

Tommy starts to follow, hears more than feels glass crunching under his feet. He sways, closes his eyes against the wave of vertigo that hits him.

He holds onto consciousness just long enough to think, where is that goddamn music coming from?

🞶🞶🞶

It’s just past midnight and somebody’s pounding on Tommy’s door. He opens the door to find Evan, his eyes red-rimmed and brimming with unshed tears. His face lights up and as if on instinct, he takes a few steps toward Tommy before his expression drops and he leans in Tommy’s doorway.

“Are you drunk? Did you drive here?” Tommy looks past Evan, but doesn’t spot his jeep.

“I may have had a few beers, but that’s besides the point. I took an Uber from the bar.” He looks at the ground. “My date left me.”

“You should go home, Buck.”

Evan’s head snaps up. He digs a finger into Tommy’s sternum. “Don’t call me that.” He clutches Tommy’s henley. “What happened to us? I thought we were good. Solid, you know?”

Tommy’s not drunk enough for this conversation. “Sometimes things just don’t work out.”

Evan pouts. “No. I don’t believe that. We—our relationship, it had good bones.”

It had good bones? Tommy bites back a smile. It’s been a month since they broke up, but he’s still as hopelessly in love. It doesn’t change the fact that he was what was broken in their relationship.

“I just want to talk. Please.”

Tommy sighs and turns back into the house. He looks back at Evan, still standing on his porch like a lost puppy. “Are you coming?”

🞶🞶🞶

Tommy’s head is pounding. His vision swims. His ears ring. The smell of gasoline fills his nostrils. He nearly retches.

He thinks somebody’s calling his name, but they sound as if they’re underwater. He can’t hear anything over the song blaring. He moves on instinct to turn the radio down, but he’s pinned in place. Oh. He’s in his truck. He closes his eyes and tries to remember where he was headed.

The sound of shattered glass brings him back to consciousness and a familiar face fills his vision. “Buck?” he croaks. “What—?”

He attaches the Jaws to the door of Tommy’s truck. “That’s Evan to you asshole,” he grounds out. “You were in an accident. But we’re going to get you out. You’re going to be okay.” He wrenches the door open. “You don’t get to die on me, do you hear me?” Evan cradles Tommy’s face in his hands before he’s being pulled away by Hen and Howie. He prays this isn’t the last time he sees Evan, face stricken and staring down at his hands saturated with Tommy’s blood.

Howie shines a light into his eyes as Hen checks his pulse. “How’s that fat head of yours?”

He groans.

“Sounds about right. Just stay with us, alright?”

The last thing he hears is Bobby yelling, “let’s get him on that gurney.”

[etherealstrike]

Tw hypothermia and major blood and visible ribcage

"It is sae cold..."

.

.

.

"Have ye seen mah brother.....Donald?"

[layraket]

Day 18 - Revenge

Character(s): Sky and Legend (LU)

Words: 446

Summary: Sky will do anything for his family, blood or not related. This time the first one was the reason of bloodshed

Whump scale: 4 (see the full scale here)

Warnings: Major Character Death, sliced bread and strawberry jelly used to describe violence, injury, derealization(? I didn't wrote this as that, but now reading it again I'm putting the warning just in case

-

Sky was too slow, always too slow.

Every time he tried to reach for the ones he searches for, each time he’s faced with the consequences of his slow pace.

If he was a second faster, if he decided to ignore that injury, he would be holding in his arms the one he desired to protect.

He would not be seeing Legend’s throat, open like a clean cut on bread bathed in strawberry jelly. The bakers being these stupid-looking-banana-obsessed assassins.

If his insults didn’t make sense, that’s because his head wasn’t making sense. The only thing that was as clear as the water that Faron protects and keeps as her terrain is that he’s angry.

Angry towards the ones that sliced his sweet, grumpy and still so young descendant’s throat. Angry towards himself for not being fast enough, again.

Voices were distant, someone was talking to him. Wavy hair, a blonde that reflected the light, almost making it look like it was shining, inexistent gusts of wind playing with it. Not a soft straight hair, darker blonde and parts of a soft pink.

He will never be able to see that hair without red tainting it ever again.

These voices, people he thinks, aren’t important right now. The ones holding him back weren’t important. His child was the priority.

Fi. Were was she? Her glow, easily seen across the room, got his attention. These fuckers hold her hostage, a light more closely resembling an orange one, but still her.

Running never was his stronger ability, but when he needed, he ran. Fast. Fi was in his hands, safe and powerful.

So powerful, so fast, that strawberry jelly turned to be the main toping for this amount of sliced bread.

Someone was talking, a topic about a stupid pig or something like that. He didn’t want to hear.

The bread was ready, strawberry jelly spilled all across the place.

He was hungry. He didn’t like strawberry jelly; a simple apple was enough to make him satisfied. His favorite apple wasn’t here anymore. Just strawberry jelly and sliced bread.

Someone else was talking, more people at once maybe, the voices were familiar. One wasn’t there, he knew why.

His favorite apple, the one that he had worked so hard to make sure that will grow to be sweet and strong. The bunny, fast and intelligent, ready for any problem presented in front of him. His descendant, losing his precious, young life. Even if the cut wasn’t in the throat, he was sure that no words would come out of him ever.

‘DAD!’ So, this is what Gaepora meant when he told him that one day he will understand?

[lunarosequarts]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Gravity Falls Rating: Mature Warnings: Major Character Death Characters: Stan Pines, Ford Pines Additional Tags: Major Character Injury, Character Death, Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Dying words, Apologies, Emotional Hurt, I'm Sorry, Blood Loss, Blood and Injury, Tears, Sibling Love, Stan Pines Needs A Hug, Stan Pines Angst, Young Stan Pines, Mullet Stan | Early 1980s Era Stan Pines, Stan Pines Has Issues, Stan Pines Has Self-Esteem Issues, Stan Pines Has a Bad Time, Stan Pines-centric, Ford Pines Has Issues, Stanangst, Young Ford Pines and Stan Pines Series: Part 1 of Only Hurty Summary:

Stan is dying on the street, in his final moments he drags himself into a phone booth to call his brother for the last time.

[linkedspirit-fanartfunart]

Warning: This page contains semi-realistic graphic injuries & discussions of character death

[Image Description: A 8 panel colored Legend of Zelda AU comic  “Linked Spirit”. Panel 1: Princess looks at a book, Hope hugging her from behind, looking over her shoulder. "Spirit, look over here," Princess says. Hero points their thumb at their self, "What? Me?" Hope looks at them flatly, "Yeah you Ghosty. Princess found a book about you." Panel 2: "This book has some details about how different spirits are created. Some are separated from their bodies by magic," Princess explains, gesturing at Hope. Hope stands next to her, eyes wide exclaiming "Don't tell them that-" Princess ignores him, "I've seen that before with Link." Panel 3: A dark purple ooze climbs into a purplish armor shoe. Princess continues "Others are lingering spirit s of the dead." Panel 4: A purplish Iorn Knuckle stands in the background, posed like a statue in the background by a window. Hope, in the foreground, is turned away from Princess, arms crossed, pouting. Princess holds the book up for Hero to see, "Unlike ghini you don't seem to be fueled by dark energy, rather... you seem more like these... strong, magically charged spirits who have a lingering role in the world..." Hero lifts a hand to their mouth, brows furrowed. Panel 5: "...I'm not dead..." Hero says, appearance changing to look like Rinku after Link's Awakening, "No. No. I'm- Im the first one. I-" Panel 6: Hope says "Look, my spirit experience was a magic accident. You’ve kinda got a knife in your back. Pretty sure you’re KERK” she gestures a slice along the neck with one hand, leaning against the table. Princess frowns, fist at her sides "LINK Don't say it like that?!" Hero looks on, one hand on their chest, eyes wide. Panel 7: Hero's appearance changes to look like pre-ressurection Breath of the Wild Link, heavily injured, hair cropped short in the back. They gesture at theirself with both hands, shouting, "This isn't what being dead feels like!" Panel 8: Hero's appearance shifts between LA Rinku, BotW and their usual look, looking down, eyes wide and startled, holding their hands loosely together against their chest "...How do I know that?" End ID]

masterpost

First- Previous (27) - 28^ - Next (29)

[clangenrising]

Month 15 - Newleaf

Battle With Razor Pt 4

It wasn’t long after the start of the battle proper that Razor made a break for it. Goldenstar couldn’t believe the absolute cowardice on display, especially from a leader. He didn’t call a full retreat, he just looked around, seemed to come to a conclusion, and fled. 

“Come on,” she’d barked to Orangestar and the two of them had bolted after him. Luckily, his size and the jingling of his bell made him easy to follow. 

“He’s going deeper into the woods!” Orangestar shouted. 

“Why would he do that?” Goldenstar called back above the noise. They burst from the throng of cats in pursuit of Razor’s fleeting tail tip. 

“I don’t- Ah!” Orangestar cried out and fell to the ground. Goldenstar whipped around to see the ginger cat she had met in the city pulling roughly on Orangestar’s tail. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” he growled, reeling her in. 

Goldenstar dropped into a crouch. “Orangest-”

“Keep going!” the other leader ordered, rolling over to kick at the tom’s face. “I’ll catch up with you! Don’t lose him!” 

“Got it,” Goldenstar nodded and pivoted again to charge deeper into the woods. Orangestar was right. The point was to kill Razor. If they let him go, the whole meeting would have been for nothing. 

She bounded through the woods after his scent trail and the faint jingling sound of his bell. The massive tom left a path of broken twigs and scattered leaf-litter in his wake that wasn’t hard to spot. As she raced through the trees, her mind was also racing. He was barrelling west, north-west, deeper into EarthClan’s territory and away from the city. Why would he do that? It wasn’t like he was headed for their camp. How would he have even known where it was? If they kept going, they would eventually run into the river but she couldn’t imagine he would run for that long. 

She couldn’t hear the bell anymore. She paused, looked around, and realized that the trail had vanished too. She looked around at the trees, tried to figure out if he had jumped up one, but that didn’t make any sense given where the trail had ended. It was as if, in the middle of a clearing, he simply disappeared. The fur along her spine prickled with unease as she padded carefully to the end of the trail, mouth open to find his scent. He was close, she was certain, but where exactly? The muffled breeze was blowing against her face but there was no trace of him on the wind. The smell of mulch and growing green things was distractingly strong. 

“Where are you?” she mumbled under her breath, eyes flashing around the clearing. She turned around to try retracing her steps and there he was, looming behind her. She gasped in a particularly undignified manner, puffing up to twice her size. 

Razor laughed. “Did I startle you?” 

Goldenstar lunged. There was no time for fear or conversation. She raised her claws to swipe at his face, aiming to blind him, but he reared up and slammed one of his heavy paws into the side of her head, sending her tumbling into a gnarled root. She groaned and heaved herself to her feet but he was on her again, laying multiple swats on her skull in quick succession. The world spun dangerously. 

“Shh, stay down, girl,” he soothed, one giant paw pressing down on her throat, claws unsheathed. She coughed and clawed blindly at his leg to no result. She quickly realized that he hadn’t been taking the fight seriously before. She had underestimated him, the one thing Scorch had told her she should never, never do. 

“I’m glad we could get some time alone,” he continued, his other paw trailing feather light along the ridge of her sternum. “A girl like you deserves special attention, don’t you think?” 

Goldenstar snarled and he chuckled to himself. As her vision started to clear, his face swam into view, silhouetted against the blood red light filtering in through the canopy above. His too-white smile spread like a menacing butterfly across his face, his pale eyes roving intrusively over her body. Goldenstar knew that, pinned as she was, her hind legs wouldn’t reach any part of his body that would matter so she settled for curling up to try and kick at his leg in a desperate attempt to dislodge it. 

Razor’s smile widened and he pressed harder on her throat, drawing blood and cutting off her air. Her body panicked at the sensation and she thrashed her body as hard as she could against his weight but there was nothing she could do. He was too heavy and seemed unfazed by the claw marks she was leaving on his legs. 

“This is my favorite part,” he purred. “I think it’s just adorable: the moment when a creature realizes there’s nothing she can do. If you stop struggling, this will be easier for both of us.” Goldenstar tried to hiss at him but there was no air in her lungs. She gaped helplessly, starting to feel darkness encroaching on the edges of her vision. Razor frowned and very slightly lifted his paw to allow her to gasp for air. With the immediate threat of death removed, her eyes shut tightly and her body went slack, save for her chest which heaved over and over again as she greedily gulped down air. She couldn’t think straight.

“That’s it,” he said, “stay with me. As fun as it would be to see you choke and squirm until you turned blue, that’s too good for you.” His free paw trailed down from her sternum to her stomach. As it went, he unsheathed his claws and Goldenstar yelped as they scraped her skin hard enough to draw blood. 

“No,” Razor rumbled,  “you thought you could take what was mine and get away with it. But nobody,” and here, he sank his claws deeper into her belly and twisted them, causing her to nearly bite through her own tongue, “gets away with stealing from me.”

“I didn’t steal anything,” Goldenstar choked out around the blood now pooling in her mouth. “She couldn’t wait to get away from you!” 

“I know,” he laughed and Goldenstar nearly gagged. “She’s always been a flighty little bird.” He dragged his claws across her stomach and flicked them out of the flesh, tearing it away in a spray of dark blood. Goldenstar whined in pain and threw her eyes upward to try and focus on the branches of the tree, hoping it would distract her from the overwhelming pain.

He purred at the sound and kept speaking. “But she’s always known her place. It was your influence that fooled her into thinking she could live without everything I gave her.” He lifted his bloody paw and swiped his tongue between his toes, grinning down at her all the while. 

“You tortured her,” Goldenstar spat, trying to thrash again. 

Razor’s smile contorted into a furious snarl. “I love her!” he shouted, slamming both paws down on her throat. “I’ve shown her more kindness than she’d ever known! More kindness than a jealous little bitch like her deserves!” He sank his claws into her neck, that look of bloodlust back on his face. Goldenstar gasped and felt an uncomfortable flutter in her windpipe as the air escaped around his claws. If she didn’t do something soon, she was going to die. 

She kicked her hind legs up at him again, scrabbling at his now bloody arm. She twisted her head to try and sink her teeth into anywhere on his body she could. He snarled again and sank his claws in even further. 

“What could you possibly give her?!” he roared. “I am the Speaker! I am excellence personified! I am the most powerful cat alive! What are you?! You’re nothing!” The world was growing dark again, his voice fading as blood pounded in her ears and her focus started to drift uncontrollably into the void. She had failed. Tears welled in her eyes, not just from pain but from the shame of knowing she hadn’t been strong enough to protect anyone. The cold earth was leeching all of the heat from her body. Her paws started to grow stiff and numb. She couldn’t find the strength to lift her legs anymore. 

Distantly, she registered that Razor let go of her throat and heard him shout, as though at the end of a long tunnel, “Dammit! Don’t you dare die yet!” 

In one last act of defiance, she ignored him.

[aftgficrec]

Hi! I was wondering if you know of any fics that explore the friendship between Andrew and Kevin? Especially how they became close after Kevin came to the Foxes with a broken hand. I just think their friendship is so interesting, and I am so curious about how it started. Thank you!

@lynntjeeee and @sayonara-you-weeaboo-shits: These asks overlapped, so we combined them and separated fic types with subheads. The last ones under ‘you may also like’ don’t fit neatly but still hold the main ideas found in pre canon Kevin & Andrew stories. Unfortunately most are not very long. -A

also see:

‘a foxhole collection…’ Chapter 30 here

‘The gentle violence of loving you’ and ‘I Don't Know How to Breathe’ here

‘I came for the safety (stayed 'cause you made me feel)’ here

‘Searchlights’ here

‘Trust Me’ here

you may also like:

Andrew loving toward Kevin: friendship or kandrew here

Andrew & Kevin here

kandrew fluff & smut here

Kevin centric here

‘breaking every finger, praying that it makes me clean’ here 

‘do you care?’ here

‘Have a Kevin of the day’ Day 2 here

‘They All Burn the Same’ here (updated)

‘a lot's gonna change’ here

‘splinters beneath our nails,’ ‘Not again,’ and ‘Reasons’ here

‘Just Short Of A Fairy Tale’ here

‘the prince in the raven tower’ here

‘white soap’ here

‘Pieces of Ideas for Works’ ch 12 (also ch 43) here

‘Cross the Board and Crown Yourself Queen’ here

Rescue Me by Demiwitchwoodwalker [Rated T, 4564 Words, Complete, 2022]

Part 1 of Someone(s) To Stay, part 2 here 

“I can protect you, from him and yourself,” Andrew said in a tone Kevin couldn’t quite place after a long moment filled with nothing but the muffled noise of the game playing on Kevin’s laptop. “I can help you stay instead of running further or back.” Kevin stared at him then, finally letting himself actually look at him, and the same feeling from before returned, feeling like a hand clenched itself around his lungs and heart. He pushed his laptop closed, the game’s audio abruptly cutting off, and turned slightly to face Andrew, whose expression had shifted back into the grin that seemed to constantly be present in the day and whose eyes looked almost dead. Kevin’s lips parted, words rising in the back of his throat, but he couldn’t get them past his tongue. How was he supposed to do this? The memory of Andrew the night before floated through his mind again, when he was as close to sober as he could get, more vulnerable than Kevin felt he’d ever seen a person despite the fact that Kevin was the one halfway through a breakdown. "Why?" --- Aka, how Kevin and Andrew make their deal. (Potential triggers are listed in the tags, please be careful!)

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

broken wings by diabolicalandderanged [Rated G, 4625 Words, Complete, 2023]

Highlights of the year Kevin Day joins the Foxes as assistant coach!! Including: making the deal, meeting Wymack and taking down Riko

tw: implied/referenced abuse

Escape by 38booksonmyshelf [Rated T, 3430 Words, Complete, 2023]

The night Riko broke his hand, Kevin's only thought was that he had to get out. He went to his father.

tw: implied/referenced abuse

From Bones and Ashes by ScriptaManent [Rated T, 3006 Words, Complete, 2023, Locked]

Kevin has a mental breakdown during the weeks following his injury. He’s “safe” with coach Wymack but he can’t do anything, he can’t even hold a fucking glass and it pisses him off. He knows Riko is out there, looking for him (well, not yet, but he knows he will eventually). Kevin drinks to forget but his mind keeps going back to Riko, to that night when he broke his hand and when Jean collected him, to that night he got out of Evermore without looking back, and to that night he knocked on Wymack’s door, a living mess barely able to think straight. Then, without even a knock on the door, a first glimpse of hope manages to get him back to the surface, at least for a while.

tw: violence, tw: assault

take off your clothes and disappear by lackingsoy [Rated T, 3075 Words, Complete, 2020]

They recognize each other from the start. A yes, a no, and a maybe between Day and Minyard.

tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: implied/referenced violence, tw: alcohol, tw: medication addiction, tw: withdrawal 

Silver Crimson Black by sweetlikesugar [Rated T, 1076 Words, Complete, 2019]

Kevin can barely stand. He keeps swaying from side to side, vision blurry. Whether it’s sweat or tears he doesn’t know, and he doesn’t want to know. All he knows is the sickening rage, boiling and curling like a poisonous snake. He’s mindless with it, he’s feral with it.

TWO. by mostly_maudlin [Rated T, 2944 Words, Incomplete, Updated June 2024]

The Foxhole Court is the only place in South Carolina that makes sense to Kevin, but it lacks the discipline, rigor, and partnership that kept him grounded for years. Over four nights at the court in the spring of 2006, Kevin attempts to recreate the only life he knows how to live.

tw: implied/referenced abuse

oh icarus how do you fall (so hard and so pretty) by wxltedrxses [Rated T, 1008 Words, Incomplete, Updated Feb 2022]

An analysis of the rise and fall of Kevin Day

tw: alcohol abuse/alcoholism, tw: implied/referenced abuse

don't want no other shade of blue but you / no other sadness in the world will do by snnycarisi [Rated G, 1713 Words, Complete, 2024]

For just a moment, he could pretend that this man was Jean, that they were both free to do something as frivolous as go dancing, that they were both free at all. He imagined that those were Jean’s hands on his waist, Jean’s breath on his neck, Jean’s body heat making his cheeks colour. That Jean would even want this — want him — after everything he’d done was possibly the biggest fantasy of all. --- After a drunk encounter with a stranger at Eden's Twilight, Kevin calls Jean.

tw: implied/referenced abuse

tfc!written word au by @unkingly [Tumble Fic, 2016]

in a world where what someone believes about you is written on your skin, Andrew and Kevin make their deal.

Andrew & Kevin hc by @filippa-kosta [Tumblr, 2018]

I want to talk about the significance of Andrew & Kevins relationship bc tbh I think it's devalued and misinterpreted a lot, despite the fact it's hugely significant to the series, vital to the plot, & important to Neil

andrew and kevin’s individual recovery arcs… meta by @ketterdamns [Tumblr, 2017]

kandrew/kandreil:

Make Me Believe That You Need Me Most by sambutwithbooks [Rated E, 10598 Words, Complete, 2022]

The problem was that Kevin expected exy to be enough.  Most people went through life without finding a calling, without a modicum of the talent Andrew had and still found ways to live normal, fulfilling lives. Exy- and the comfortable life it offered- should have been enough to tempt and satisfy any rational person.  And maybe that was his first mistake- believing that Andrew was a rational person. 

tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: implied/referenced alcohol abuse/alcoholism, tw: explicit sexual content

Take me as I come (or discard me like the rest) by elias_day [Rated M, 9675 Words, Incomplete, Updated Dec 2022]

Kevin’s breathing picks up. “What would you take for your protection?” “It’s not like you can offer much,” Andrew says. It’s true. What could a broken man like Kevin Day offer him? A man crippled by fear, someone without the backbone to stand on his own feet? Nothing. He could give Andrew nothing. “You’re wrong.” ___ Kevin never thought he could keep his end of the deal with Andrew. Turns out in the end, he did. Only not in the way he thought. A.K.A pre-canon KANDREW turned post-canon KANDREIL with lots of pining and emotionally repressed lack of communication

tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: nightmares, tw: vomit, tw: ptsd, tw: recreational drug use

What is love when it's never fully consumed? by CamilleDuDemon [Rated T, 10522 Words, Complete, 2021]

5+1 significative moments in the relationship between Andrew and Kevin, before and after Neil Josten's sudden arrival at Palmetto State University.

tw: medication addiction, tw: implied/referenced abuse

Temperature of Healing by ReeseMH [Rated M, 5482 Words, Complete, 2024]

Kevin Day, picked up by Andrew Minyard, hand broken and eyes glossed over because he is dead. There is nothing for him, and he doesn't even remember using his good hand to dial that number, coughing up blood before he could tell Andrew where he was. He didn't even know where he was going but the lights of the highway are pretty, and even though he is dead... he's not alone for it.

tw: major character injury, tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: anxiety, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon

invisible machinery by grainpatron380 (onesourfish) [Rated T, 2445 Words, Complete, 2020]

Andrew drags his mouth southward and doesn’t bother with apologizing for imagined horrors or future ones. Doesn’t bother to say, I won't, I couldn’t, I would never do something like that to you. Can't promise it. Months before Neil arrives at PSU, Kevin has a nightmare. Andrew questions him.

tw: nightmares, tw: violence, tw: implied/referenced abuse

I Am Ready Now by IKnowWhoYouAre_Damianos [Rated M, 6477 Words, Complete, 2019]

The problem is, he doesn’t hate him. He wants to. Wants to hate this monster so badly, wants to feel the urge to kill him like Andrew does, wants to drive out to West Virginia and waltz onto the court, choking Riko to death until his eyes turn from black and white to red, his skin from tan to blue. But he can’t. Kevin thinks about his relationship to Riko when he was still at the nest. He thinks he's falling. But someone will catch him this time. Can he let go?

tw: domestic violence, tw: explicit sexual content, tw: assault

kevin day prefers the night by thewintersolstice [Rated T, 3027 Words, Complete, 2021]

Part 1 of aftg: everything's the same except kandreil's real, duh. series

Months after breaking his hand and arriving at Palmetto State, Kevin's still struggling with leaving Evermore and Riko's still got a ghostly grasp on him. Andrew takes him for a drive. “Snap out of it,” Andrew says, simple again like it’s easy, and pushes hard fingertips into his skin until finally, finally Kevin can breathe, can fight the sick roll of his stomach and he shuts his eyes, focuses on the warmth of Andrew’s palm until it’s gone again. He pulls away and Kevin hears the press of the bed as he stands up. “Let’s go.”

Oh Captain, Let’s Make a Deal by takitalks [Rated M, 3690 Words, Complete, AFTG Mixtape Exchange 2023]

An exploration of Kevin and Andrew navigating this stand off pre-canon, with a sprinkle of getting together.

Broken promises by ok555 [Rated M, 10783 Words, Incomplete, Updated June 2024]

Kevin doesn't know if he will ever forgive Andrew for what he did to get information about Neil on their ride to Baltimore. What will Andrew do to try and win his forgiveness? Will he even care? Andrew doesn't believe in regret, but what if just this once he does?

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

you may also like:

higher ground by darkoceanbottom [Rated T, 6085 Words, Complete, 2021]

Kevin Day and identity.

tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: canonical character death

Roaring Like Beasts Full Of Rage by Sashe [Rated E, 30713 Words, Incomplete, Updated June 2024]

The PSU Foxes' luck takes a turn when they take in the Raven's injured goalkeeper Andrew Doe. Andrew isn't exactly happy to be there, treated as a spectacle by the media, an outcast by his new team and a let down by the family that never wanted him. He's especially not happy about the new striker recruit, who no one else seems to think is supicious. or Roleswap canon divergent where Raven!Andrew has a broken hand and Wymack has been raising Kevin.

tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced csa, tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: implied/referenced self harm, tw: implied/referenced psychological abuse, tw: implied/referenced drug addiction, tw: panic attacks

The Truth Hurts Worse by mcmeasle [Rated T, 2742 Words, Complete, 2024]

Kevin chattered on as Andrew opened the door and tuned out the cadence of his voice, Kevin’s full attention on Andrew. Immediately, Andrew locked on to the man with bright red hair sitting in his desk chair, feet thrown on top of the desk with ankles crossed, tapping an impressive looking knife blade over his fingertips. “Welcome home,” the stranger said cheerily, a sharp smile wending its way onto his lips, icy blue eyes locked onto Andrew. —- Or Butcher!Neil makes a house call

tw: violence, tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon

decline of the empire by drewdrugs [Rated T, 1507 Words, Complete, AFTG Mixtape Exchange 2024]

Kevin embraced the idea that, even he had never been taught by his father, he was learning to lose now. The structures of his coliseum were crumbling and there was nothing that could be done to stop it. This time, Andrew couldn't do anything for him. Or at least that's what he believed.

tw: recreational drug use, tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: implied/referenced self harm

NB: this last one is the culmination of Kevin & Andrew’s deal from the very beginning

Interesting by ashestoashes7 [Rated T, 6632 Words, Complete, AFTG 2024 Olympics]

Andrew decided to make the Exy Olympic Finals more interesting. No one else knew what to do with that, not even his own teammates, but Andrew and boredom was a recipe for the unexpected. After all, it was not every day a goalkeeper slammed the ball down the court and bathed the opposition in red.

[hmshermitcraft]

(Tw gore, self-hatred)

Everyone knows Something Bad happened to Etho when he used to eat redstone.

Everyone knows it did something to his face. It's why he wears the mask after all.

No one knows how lowly he thinks of himself since.

He's so stupid! Of course the radioactive dust wasn't safe to eat!

And he's so goddamn ugly. Most of the skin around his mouth is completely dissolved, his teeth are permanently stained red and the little skin that is left is covered in red stains that he can't figure out if they're redstone, blood or both. And his eye. Gods, don't even get him started on his eye. He can't see out of it, and it's ugly?

Joel was the first person to see his face since The Incident. It was an accident. During Double Life, Etho took his mask off for a minute, and Joel happened to walk in. Etho thought for sure Joel would hate him. After all, he hates himself, why would Joel think any different? But Joel doesn't care. He thinks Etho is beautiful, scars and all. He just wishes Etho could see it.

-purple heart but i'm on a laptop and emojis aren't working rn ;-;

Etho is just Etho. Why would Joel ever judge him for that? Yeah, he's a little worried about if it hurts - solely 'cause they're teamed together, that's the only reason, duh - but... he's not going to judge Etho for his face. Plus, it's hardly like Etho is the only one who did something stupid in his youth. Joel used to be green.

So, yeah. Joel thinks Etho is hot, mask on or off. What's Etho going to do about it, huh?