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mckiwi · 2 months

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Heat of the Moment

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"Heat of the Moment": Asia, 1982

Something is invading and killing the villagers of Jotunheim. Now sitting as king of Jotunheim, Loki reluctantly summons Stephen to help him save his kingdom. Stephen gets to prove magic isn't the only thing he's good at.

Genre: Comedy/Adventure/Murder Mystery

Characters: Stephen Strange, Loki Laufeyson, and Thor Odinson

Words: 3,191

"You mean you can't just 'abracadabra' your problems away?" Loki asks with feigned shock.

"Oh, please. First, Thor doesn't understand how e-mails work, now you apparently don't know what the term 'kidnap' means. Allow me to explain it to you, Your Royal Highness. 'To take someone away illegally by force.'" Stephen defines sassily.

"I have no concern for your Midgardian laws, Wizard," Loki says.

"You used the Bifrost to take me from my Sanctum! That's an invasion of privacy." Stephen chides, then adds, "And the preferred term is 'Master of the Mystic Arts.'"

"I didn't even want to summon you, initially!" Loki argues back.

"Well I'm here now, and it better be for good reason!" Stephen snaps.

"Trust me, it'll be worth your time." Loki says, ignoring Stephen's unimpressed look at 'trust me,' "you're a doctor, or at least was one, yes?"

Stephen, baffled at why that particular detail of his life was being brought up, asks, "Correct, but what does that have to do with you rudely kidnapping me?"

"And you are the current Sorcerer Supreme as well?"

"Actually, that would be Wong. Though I'm a sort of unofficial second-in-command," Stephen explains.

Loki didn't look as if he fully believed him, but carried on regardless. "I need your– your duty as a sorcerer– your assistance would be," he softly growls in frustration at himself, "you would be doing Jotunheim a great service if you would be willing to assist us in our time of need." Loki nods, satisfied with his request.

As amusing as it was seeing the silver-tongued god struggle for words, Stephen wasn't that cruel. "Fine, I'll help. What exactly is the problem?"

His agreement seemed to at least ease some of the tension off Loki's face, "You see, two villages have been invaded, all civilians either killed gruesomely or reported missing. And we have no information on the creature suspected of these crimes. No trace of them to identify. Rather impressive, I must say."

Any irritation Stephen was holding turned into intrigue, "Yeah, I'd say that justifies as a problem."

"To put it lightly," Loki agrees. "Oh, and I did also ask Thor to assist. As much as I hate to admit it, we'll most likely be needing him."

"No arguments from me," Stephen says with a nod. "Why do you need my help, anyway? You're intelligent. A fairly decent sorcerer, too, despite how much you seem to love daggers."

Loki sighs, "You and only one other have ever managed to trick me. Surely for an accomplishment such as that there's something to be of use from you."

"Thank you," Stephen says with a small smirk.

"That wasn't a compliment." Loki retorts.

"Sure it wasn't."

"It wasn't!"

"Brother!" That was Thor, striding into the room. "Strange! You will be accompanying us on our journey as well? Loki, I see you finally decided to get help!" Loki narrows his eyes at Thor's word choice. "The more the merrier! How does life treat you these days?" He sets a hand on Stephen's shoulder with such force he nearly stumbles over like a bowling pin.

"I'm doing pretty good. What about you?" Stephen asks.

"I'm also doing well, thank you. Brother, how's your reign been so far?" Thor turns his attention to Loki.

"All has been settled nicely with hardly any misgivings, our current predicament excluded of course. What of yours?" Loki asks with a hint of a prideful smile curling his lips.

Thor answers, "New Asgard is coming along nicely. Stark has been kind enough to help us get settled as our own establishment."

"I'll have to come by and visit soon, then. If it's all the same to you, I'd like to figure out who's killing my people now."

—————————

He had seen disturbing injuries in his time working at the ER, ranging from point-blank GSWs to a drunk man falling into a bonfire. (Charred skin is one of those smells you will never forget.) Never has Stephen seen something quite like this, however. The fire casts shadows across the walls as he crouches down to get a better look at the body. The Frost Giant man, albeit taller and bluer than the average male, has surprisingly similar anatomy to a human. "Even my interns at the hospital would've been ashamed of a Krocher incision like that," Stephen comments, hovering his hand over the sloppy gash. "About a 20° downward slope starting just under the rib cage. I'd say about 8 or 9 inches wide. I suspect an organ might be missing, too. You see the way the stomach caves in a bit more there?" He gestures to the area right under the ribs.

"Do you have any ideas of what could've caused a cut like that?" Loki asks, crouching down on the other side of the body.

"The stomach wasn't cut open, it was ripped open. I once had to treat someone who was mauled by a black bear. Looked a lot like this. It could've been caused by a claw, or dull instrument of some kind." Stephen explains.

Thor asks, "You suspect one of the other villagers could have done this?"

Before Stephen can answer, Loki chimes in, "They've invaded two villages. Surely a single person wouldn't be able to do this much damage."

"Probably a creature of some kind then. How many do you think?" Stephen asks.

Loki puffs his cheeks in exasperation, "How am I to know?"

"Not only were you born here, you're the king of Jotunheim. I assume you know what creatures live around here and if they come in packs."

"Oh what, so you knew what animals were around the place you were born?"

"I was a farm kid, so yeah, actually, I did. Had to know what to protect the cattle from." Stephen stands up with a huff to stand beside the lit furnace, watching the flames devour the wood inside, and lets the silence sit for a moment.

"Amazing how quickly fire can destroy," Loki comments, also watching the wood curl and flake away into the glittering coals below.

"Or preserve," Stephen challenges, "I don't know if Asgard or Jotunheim has the same custom, but on Earth, we sometimes choose to cremate our dead. The flesh will decay, but the ashes, however... the ashes allow us to keep them close without smelling quite so bad." Loki snorts softly at that. "Should we cremate this body?"

"We have our own customs that I'll see to after we get things settled," Loki says. The trio watched the flames in silence for a few moments. The fire crackled and ashes rose to land on a nearby dusty shelf. "What're you doing?" Loki asks as Stephen approaches the shelf.

He runs a finger across the wood, inspecting the layer of dust now coating his finger. "Did you know that dust is largely composed of skin cells?" At Thor and Loki's questioning looks Stephen announces, "I've an idea." With a sweeping of his hand, he gathers the dust into a loose but small golden cylinder. As he explains, the cylinder spins around rapidly, "this spell will act as a sort of centrifuge. It'll keep the skin cells in and kick the other particles out." As said, the spell released and only a few particles remained. Stephen draws the particles into his palm and slides his other hand over them. A thin, golden line follows. He pushes the spell forward and the line shoots out past the building, far past what they could see.

"Woah," Thor breathes.

Stephen allows himself a small, prideful smile. "No trace of them to identify, huh?" He asks, quoting Loki.

"Shut up," Loki says as start to follow the line.

—————————

As a Master of the Mystic Arts, Stephen is expected to have at least a basic knowledge of the nine realms, but he somehow underestimated just how frigid the place actually is. He's slightly jealous of the two æsir. Both Thor and Loki only wear their normal armor, yet still look completely unfazed. The snowflakes clinging to their hair is a mere fashion accessory to them. Meanwhile, Stephen is shivering even with four layers of thick clothing and the air itself hurts his face. His hands ache something awful, too. He can feel the cold metal beneath his skin and the way his blood vessels constrict around them. Thor's higher body temperature allows him to not feel the cold so harshly, and Loki's biology thrives in the cold. Goldilocks got it wrong this time. Being in the middle wasn't just right.

"The spell ends here," Loki breaks him from his thoughts. He didn't even realize the brothers had stopped walking. Stephen looks up from where he had been absent-mindedly stepping in Thor's larger footsteps in the snow, only to face the opening of a cave. The mountain range they had trekked the edge of hid the mouth like it was a sacred treasure to be kept secret. He probably wouldn't have even noticed it if Loki hadn't pointed it out.

"Where is 'here,' exactly?" Stephen asks.

"I would imagine this is the pests' place of residence. Perhaps the villagers that have gone missing were brought back here." Loki answers.

"Seems like a safe bet," Stephen concurs.

Thor says, "All-Father grant us strength and protection. Let us go, then."

"Wait, we're not coming up with a plan or anything? Loki, back me up here." Stephen cautions.

"What is that phrase you people of Earth use? 'Expect the unexpected'. That's our plan." Loki explains flippantly.

"That is not a plan. That's just... going with the flow." Stephen scoffs.

Loki smirks, "Let's hope you're a good swimmer then, Strange." Loki starts walking towards the cave's entrance with Thor at his heels.

"Oh for the love of–" Stephen sighs, but follows. These two idiots are bound to get themselves killed at this rate.

The cave was dark the further they went in. Stephen had cast a night vision spell on the trio so they could explore without drawing attention to themselves. At least by light, that is. Sound is another issue.

Loki hisses, "Could you possibly walk any louder?"

Thor huffs in a whisper, "I'm only walking as I normally do."

"We're trying to sneak in here, you big oaf. Key word there being 'sneak.'" Loki says.

"I am well aware of that!" Thor insists, and at least attempts to soften his footsteps.

Stephen matches his pace to Thor's, "Hang on, watch me. Roll your feet like this. Heel hits the ground first, then you roll to your toes." He demonstrates and Thor tries to copy his movements. "My father used to go fox hunting when I was a child and would occasionally bring me along. He taught me how to walk through the woods without scaring the animals."

"I never took you for a hunter, Strange," Thor comments.

"I never did shoot anything. I would mostly just watch the birds and squirrels. It was peaceful out there. I would just tell my father nothing was out." Stephen whispers.

"Do neither of you understand the concept of being quiet?" Loki whispers back, giving the pair a side-eye Michelle Obama would be proud of. The ground beneath them starts to rumble slightly, only lasting a few seconds. A low groan echoes from the other side of the cave, which quickly leads to various more groans.

The three stare into the darkness. The darkness stares back at them.

Then blinks.

"Run!” Thor leads the way, with Loki in the middle and Stephen trailing closely behind. They maneuver through the tunnels as hound-like creatures with long claws chase at their heels. Stephen turns around briefly to cast the Flames of the Faltine, leaving a barrier of flames between the trio and the creatures. Much to Stephen's confusion, the creatures aren't deterred from the flames, instead, they seem to bathe in the warmth. It almost stops him in his tracks, but a hand grabs him around the wrist and pulls him along. He hears Loki mutter something under his breath, probably an insult, before the two are off to catch up to Thor.

They run through the tunnels until Thor comes to a sudden stop. He and Loki almost plow into him. Thor backtracks quickly from where he almost falls off a small cliff. Down below is a large ravine. The entire hoard of creatures scamper across small ledges alongside the walls. The floor is made of black, rough stone, and orange light leaks through cracks spreading throughout the stone. What catches their eyes though, is the giant creature in the middle. Over ten times the size of the other creatures, this one lazily has it's mouth open while the other creatures come by and drop small chunks of meat into it. He hears Thor suck in a breath beside him and follows his eye-line to see a Jötunn body tucked away into a crevice, its stomach torn open as one of the creatures roots around in his guts. It pulls out an organ. Smaller creatures, possibly the children, come and drag the body away, munching at the body's sides while doing so.

"They're eating the livers," Stephen says, lip curling in disgust.

Loki blanches, "No, Strange. They're feeding the livers to the Queen. The rest they eat for themselves.”

A pebble rolls across the ground, causing the three to whip around. A creature prowls closer, eyes dead set on Thor. Stephen casts Mandala shields at his fists, and the creature's attention diverts to him. He narrows his eyes in thought and dissipates the shields. The creature's attention is back on Thor. Stephen summons a heatless light in his palm, yet the creature’s attention remains on Thor. Stephen huffs a laugh, "They see in infrared!" The creature pounces at Thor, but Stephen uses the Bands of Cyttorak to contain it. It struggles and writhes in its clutches, but almost immediately calms when Stephen ignites flames around it. Thor and Loki circle as Stephen inspects the creature. Now that he had the chance to get a good look at it, he could see how its eyes were similar to that of a fox. "See, Loki? It does good to know the predators in your area. This one evidently seeks heat. That's probably why they sought out the liver. It's typically one of the hottest organs, and it matches with the type of cut we saw in the other victim."

Loki either doesn't hear him or ignores his comment, most likely the latter, and comes closer to the creature. "Varmesøker," Loki announces.

"Bless you," Thor says.

Stephen gives him a questioning look, "Varme-what? Is that what it's called?"

"Norns if I know. I just imagined it would need a name. Varmesøker means 'heat seeker.' Seemed appropriate." Loki explains. Stephen hums with approval while Thor nods.

"Now to address the Varmesøker in the room, what're we going to do with them?" Thor asks.

Stephen starts, "We could-"

"No," Loki interrupts.

"You didn't even let me finish!" Stephen protests.

"You didn't need to. You were going to suggest we lure them all to one place and kill them with the thing they love so much. Fire." Loki says.

Stephen gapes at him for a moment, "First of all, that was a bit morbid. Secondly... yea, kinda."

Loki sighs, "And that's why I said no. Your plans historically aren't the best."

"My plans have defeated the likes of Dormammu and Thanos, for your information. Do you have a better plan?" Stephen raises his voice slightly.

"Umm, guys?" Thor says.

"To lead them away we would need a heat source," Loki argues.

"Good thing we have three right here with us," Stephen counters back.

Loki raises a brow, "you're not suggesting we use ourselves to draw them away?"

"Loki?" Thor alerts.

"While using my magic, I have the highest heat signature. I'm suggesting I lead them away while you figure out where your people are." Stephen explains.

"That would never-" Thor's hand slaps over Loki's mouth.

"They know we're here!" Thor exclaims in a hushed whisper. Sure enough, one of the Varmesøkers is entering the cave while two more climb onto the cliff they are arguing on. Loki pulls the hand away from his face with a glare. All three creatures stare down Thor until their attention is brought to the fire encircling one of their companions.

Stephen whispers, "Thor, blast the floor in the ravine. You need to break it." Before either has the time to question his request, Stephen summons the Flames of the Faltine once again, except this time, he keeps it on his person and takes off running. The Varmesøkers are quick behind him.

"I'm going to figure out where they're storing my people," Loki tells Thor once Stephen's out of earshot then disappears with a gleam of green.

Thor huffs, "Guess I'll just stay here, then."

—————————

Thor observes the floor of the ravine carefully from his perch on the cliff. From what he could tell, the floor was composed of cracked obsidian, so the orange glow beneath it must be magma of some sort. He knew from his studies as a child that obsidian was a type of glass, so theoretically if he were to strike it with lightning, it would completely shatter. His main problem, however, was the Queen and other Varmesøkers still occupying said floor. As he prepared himself to unleash a bolt, he heard snarls and growls from at least three dozen Varmesøkers and running footsteps from a nearby tunnel, "Thor, do it now!" Strange yells.

With that, Thor let lightning surround his body.

—————————

"Thor, do it now!" Stephen yelled at the god. He didn't know why Thor hadn't yet opened the floor to the magma chamber below, but he needed it done now! He kept running through the tunnel, flame in hand, with the Cloak swatting away jaws that got too close. He was rapidly coming up with a plan B, but Thor must've heard his call and Stephen saw how lightning started to surround his body. It crackled around him, and the attention of every single Varmesøker in the area turned to him. Lightning blasted the ground below, and the obsidian fell away into the magma. Stephen ran up to the edge of the cliff edge, increasing the intensity of the ball of fire in hand, and dropped it into the chasm. The Cloak lifted him above the stampede of creatures as they fell after the fire, one after one, and into the firey pits below.

Thor and Loki join him on a nearby cliff edge, watching all of the creatures fall into the magma-like shooting stars. Loki speaks first, “I found a few surviving villagers. I freed a few of the less injured ones to help the others with the promise to return after dealing with the threat.”

“I’ll help you bring the others back,” Thor says. Stephen makes a noise of agreement.

Loki clicks his tongue and sighs, "I suppose that takes care of our murder problem, then. Looks like your plan did work this time, after all, Wizard.”

Stephen chuckles a bit to himself and does jazz hands with little effort, "Abracadabra!"

#mckiwiwrites #stephen strange #doctor strange #loki laufeyson #thor odinson #medical doctor stephen strange #jotunn loki #murder mystery #attempt at humor #alternate universe #post engame #nobody dies #background character death #description of injury #marvel #doctor strange fanfic #stephen strange fanfic #fanfic #marvel fanfic

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thepariahcontinuum · 1 year

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MARZ Rising - Chapter 87: The Set Up

You thought it was gonna be a quiet filler chapter just building things up for later....But then.

FF Net

Ao3

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swift-creates · 8 months

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@tbb-appreciation-week DAY 2: ECHO (09/04) — No Order 66 AU | Touching Foreheads | "This wasn't supposed to happen."

characters and relationships: Fives, Echo, (dream) mentions of Krell, Rex and Jesse

warnings: Umbara is its own warning, mentions of violence, death and PTSD, one real-world swear word

Notes: I've wanted to write a TBB!Fives AU for a while now, and now i finally did hehe. can you tell i love (hurting) these two

read on AO3

Grabbing tentacles, thick shadows, blue-gray fog, and screams. Fives had seen this in his mind’s eye far too many times.

They could only guess at where Krell would appear next, where he would leap out of the shadows and add to the 501st’s list of casualties with his quartet of lightsabers, four-armed strikes powerful even without using the Force. Fives pushed through the jungle, the terrain that would be difficult to navigate even if they hadn’t been shrouded in darkness. He remained on Rex’s heels even as blasterfire sounded in the distance, a wailing chorus of death overlapping with the repeated audio over the comms. His helmet’s display zoomed through the dark, narrowed in on Krell’s flashing blades slicing through flesh and plastoid. “He’s coming.” He fought down the dread, the nausea that still crept up his throat no matter how much he tried to train himself out of it, and knelt in front of Jesse, blaster at the ready.

Krell was there faster than he thought, his symphony of slaughter following with a sickening crunch of breaking bones, stealing his brothers’ lives with his bare hands, throwing them into unforgiving tree trunks, slamming them into the ground. Fives’ breath caught as he flung Tup by the head, and the younger trooper went falling somewhere past Fives’ line of sight. There was nothing he could do but force the sick feeling down, keep firing.

Fives blinked and Krell was in front of him. No. No, this isn’t how it went- Panic shot through his thoughts as he was picked up in one monstrous hand, and another raised a blue-bladed lightsaber. No, no no no nonononononononono- Krell brought it down in a sweeping blow, and-

“Fives.” Rex was shaking him awake, but his voice was pitched wrong, like something from a dream, so familiar yet so foreign.

“Fives, ya snoozin’ bantha, wake up.”

That was definitely not Rex. He opened his eyes to see Echo staring down at him, the worry ridge between his eyes furrowed despite his light-hearted words. “You okay, vod? You were doing your sleep-wriggling thing again, but you looked… scared.”

Fives sat up and drew his hands over his face, delaying his response for just a few seconds as he struggled to pack the memories of Umbara back away in their little boxes in his mind. “Yeah. Yeah. I’m… fine. Just a bad dream.”

Studying his face carefully for a moment, Echo turned so his back was to Hunter and sat on the bed by Fives’ leg. “We both know your bad dreams are bad, Fives. What was it this time?” He leaned in closer, lowered his voice. “Was it Lola Sayu again?”

“No-”

“Rishi?”

“No.” Fives looked away, folded his blanket with shaking hands, hoping Echo wouldn’t notice. But of course, he did. He reached over and took it from Fives, folded it neatly in half, quarters, eighths. Set it aside in one of the Marauder’s storage compartments and put his hand over his twin’s.

“You know you’re shit at lying to me.”

“Language.” Rex would have said it, but Rex wasn’t here, so Fives said it, and it made Echo laugh.

“Calm down there, buir. Omega’s still asleep.” He leaned back against the wall, looking at Fives, waiting for him to go on.

“Umbara.” That made Echo’s eyes widen, and he scooted closer.

“Oh. Force. You okay?” he asked, softer. “I know you said it was rough.”

Fives huffed dryly. “Rough is one word for it.” He paused, and Echo waited. It took a moment, but he found the story making its way slowly out. Echo didn’t say anything when he was done, just sat close to him, leaned in and pressed his forehead to Fives’.

“I’m sorry.”

Fives closed his eyes, leaned into his brother’s warm comfort. “It’s not your fault.” “I wasn’t there,” Echo said simply.

“And I don’t wish you were. You’re better off without those memories, trust me.”

Pulling back, Echo was quiet for a moment. “I know. But I wish I’d been with you. Even so.”

“Yeah, well. We’ll never know what would have happened, so. No point dwelling on it.” Fives got up and stretched, then squeezed Echo’s shoulder before heading to the ‘fresher. “I’m fine, Echo. Really.” He didn’t look totally convinced, but nodded anyway.

They went around their day as usual, and occasionally Fives would catch his brother giving him a concerned look. He rolled his eyes. For Force’s sake, he’d said he was fine.

(But that didn’t stop him from crawling into Echo’s bunk later that night and snuggling as close to him as humanly possible.)

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rookthorne · 2 years

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A Grave Price | ʙᴜᴄᴋʏ ʙᴀʀɴᴇꜱ

Pairing; none Word Count; 1.3k Warnings; hurt/no comfort, major & background character death, graphic descriptions of blood and injuries, auditory hallucinations, WS!Bucky A/N; God, I am so sorry guys. Please don't hate me, I know I'm awful.

WHUMPTOBER MASTERLIST

A soothing voice was guiding him and to where, he did not know - but he knew he would be safe from the horrors that followed him.

Soldat’s target was dead, the body strewn in the snow amongst the rocks and boulders, but it didn’t come without a price.

Everything - everything - had a price.

Extraction wasn’t for another agonising few hours, and Soldat had to be on site. It was an order. Orders were to be obeyed. Pain did not come before an order, the river of blood surging from the wound in his thigh did not come before an order - his life did not come before an order.

The blood that leaked from his veins didn’t contain only his life essence, it held within it the control Hydra held upon him. With every step away from the deceased target, every single drop of blood that leaked from his wounds, he lost himself - lost himself and became a shell of someone he did not know.

Screams and shouts echoed in his ears and it disoriented him amongst the encroaching snowstorm, and for all Soldat knew, those voices belonged to people in the trees, their wailing cries a siren’s song for a dying man.

His training hadn’t prepared him for the possibility of death and the horror that came with it.

Extraction point. He had to get to the extraction point, he had to follow an order.

Through the strong wind and flurries of snow, Soldat stared at the line of trees to find the way he came, only to fall to his knees with a groan of pain.

“Nyet,” he growled fiercely, ignoring the way his voice grew weak. “Nyet, nyet.” His gloved hand came away from his side to find purchase against the white snow, and he gasped quietly. The snow, once so white, was now stained crimson with his blood.

“Bucky!”

Soldat’s head snapped up towards the trees to find the source of the voice, only to find no one there. “Nyet, nyet,” he repeated.

Determined, Soldat pushed himself to his feet again, ignoring the way the world tilted on its axis, and ignoring the way he had to gasp for air against the stab wound to his lung. The target hadn’t gone down without a fight.

Snow crowded his vision, but Soldat pushed on - he had to get to the extraction point, lest he get the chair and the burning halo. No.

“Bucky! Come home!”

The disembodied voice startled Soldat and he pulled free his rifle, taking aim at the tree line. “Kto zdes'!”

It was though his conditioning had completely abandoned him - calling to an enemy was suicide, yet, he did it. No one came into sight, there were no more calls that carried across the wind.

“Kto zdes'!” Soldat tried again, his fear turning quickly to anger. “Kto zdes'!”

A frustrated growl made its way up his chest and he grimaced, he did not understand the prickling of his skin, or the way his stomach was tied like a knot - tighter than those he used to interrogate.

Emotions were a weakness, and weaknesses will get you killed.

Extraction. Move.

Soldat shouldered his rifle once more, wincing against the movement that pulled at the muscles of his chest and side. “Dvigat'sya.”

His boots dragged along the snow, each stumble against a wave of vertigo almost tore an angered shout from his throat. The extraction point was not far from where he had landed the killing blow to his target, so why was it taking so long to get back?

“Bucky! Over here!”

“NYET!” Soldat roared to the wind, his eyes wildly looking around for the source only to see no one. “Ostanovi yego!”

The blood was draining from his wounds faster than he could staunch it, faster than his ability to heal, and the world was becoming grey and blurred. In an act of desperation, he pulled free his side arm and pushed on, no longer listening to the incessant calls of “Bucky!” in the wind.

It was a terrifying possibility it wasn’t coming from the wind, but his own mind.

Soldat stumbled and fell only two more times until the extraction point - a small shack no bigger than the cell that held him - came into view. The door swung open to admit him when he pushed against it, and he fell to his knees with a hiccuped groan of pain.

Blood drenched the front of his combat suit, the once meticulously kept black leather now slick and shiny, not with his target’s blood, but his own.

The rifle on his back clattered to the floor when Soldat ripped it away with a gasp of pain, and he wished the muzzle could be taken off, but that was prohibited - no one could touch the muzzle covering the bottom of his face but his handler, not even him.

“Bucky?”

The voice was right there, right in front of him, and Soldat looked up from his chest to stare into nothing. “Kto zdes'?” His voice came out as a wheeze, a strained sound that was so foreign to him and it unnerved him further.

“Come home.”

“Home,” Soldat repeated, his hand came to rest against his side on the now gaping wound. Blood pooled at his knees and he swayed slightly when his vision blurred. “Chto home?”

“Home,” the voice affirmed - a soft voice, Soldat realised. This wasn’t a handler.

Soldat’s vision blacked out and he blinked to clear it, an uneasy feeling settling deep in his chest. “Kto Bucky?”

“You are,” the voice said quietly, and if Soldat didn’t know any better, the voice was still coming from right in front of him; a comforting presence knelt down in front of him at the bitter end.

A hiccup wracked Soldat’s frame and he winced. His chest was constricting and his throat burned with something he had never felt before. The sudden feel of dampness high on his cheeks startled him, he didn’t understand.

“Time to come home, Bucky,” the voice whispered and Soldat stiffened with fear. Another hiccup tore through his chest and his eyes felt wet, worse than when they dunked his head into a trough of ice water. “Come home.”

Before he could stop himself, Soldat reached up with his trembling right hand and brushed the pads of his bloodied fingers against his cheekbone, pausing to examine the clear liquid like it was hazardous. Another hiccup barreled through his chest and he whimpered through the wave of pain it brought.

“You’re crying, Bucky,” the voice said quietly, and the constant use of the word Bucky was beginning to soothe Soldat in a way he did not understand. “I’ve come to bring you home. Come with me.”

“Idi domoy?”

“Home,” the voice repeated.

“Mne kholodno,” Soldat whispered back. The door slammed shut in the wind and he slumped back against it, his once taut and rigid frame slackening with the loss of blood.

Soldat didn’t have a home - never had a home - but the urge to rest where it was safe, where the voice could protect him, overwhelmed any sense of danger for asking another question. “Mogu ya otdokhnut'?”

“Yes,” the voice answered. There was a sudden pressure against his chest that made him look down, but there was nothing there; a phantom hand of comfort resting against the slowing beat of his heart.

“Yest' tsena?” Soldat asked shakily, but he didn’t feel scared - the voice was there, and it would protect him. His hands, metal and flesh, fell limp in his lap, and his head lolled to the side.

There was no strength left within him to fight the laxness of his muscles, nor the cold that nipped at his every last nerve.

“Yes,” they answered. Soldat went to open his mouth to speak, but only managed a slow, deep exhale. With his body still and his eyes glazed over, the voice continued solemnly. “It’s one you have wanted to pay, for so, so long, Bucky.”

Nyet = No “Kto zdes'!” = “Who’s there!” “Dvigat'sya.” = “Move.” “Ostanovi yego!” = “Stop it!” “Chto” = “What is” “Kto” = “Who is” “Idi domoy?” = “Go home?” “Mne kholodno” = “I’m cold” “Mogu ya otdokhnut'?” = “Can I rest?” “Yest' tsena?” = “Is there a price?”

You can imagine the voice as anyone - I’d give examples but that might ruin it. Lemme know who you thought of in a reblog. 💗

___________

Graphics & Header made by yours truly.

Masterlist | Library | AO3 | Wattpad

#whumptober2022 #no.27 #PUSHED TO THE LIMIT #stumbling #altprompt #stabbed #tears #marvel #fic #hurt/no comfort #major character death #background character death #graphic descriptions of blood and injuries #auditory hallucinations #WS!Bucky #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes oneshot #rookthorne's works #A Grave Price

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tsarisfanfiction · 7 months

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Carnage

Fandom: Percy Jackson and the Olympians Rating: Teen Genre: Hurt/Comfort/Family Characters: Lee Fletcher, Lizzy White (OC), Kim Ha-Yoon (OC) "Three deaths and twenty-six mutilations," or the immediate aftermath of the chariot race from hell, as experienced by one of the youngest kids in camp. Whumptober day 3, “Make it stop". Pre-canon this time; that throwaway line in Sea of Monsters about why the chariot races were discontinued has always intrigued me, so I figured why not try and explore it in a fic?

Lee was shaking. There were screams in his ears, some echoes from earlier that wouldn’t go away, the terror as everything went horrifically wrong, and some still shrieking now. Pain, grief, horror.

There was blood on his hands, splattered across his face and his mouth tasted of metal and it was disgusting but worse was the knowledge that it wasn’t his. It was someone else’s, and no amount of spitting could get rid of the taste.

Chiron was shouting orders, and Ha-Yoon, too. Lee tried to listen, but there was so much noise and his spine kept tingling because people kept promising that things were going to be okay, that things would be alright, but no-one was believing them.

Even without the tingle of a lie, Lee wouldn’t believe them. How could he, when there was so much blood, so much pain?

He could see the crushed head of Berta, the head counsellor of cabin six, long blond hair matted with blood and skull completely caved in. The one grey eye visible was glassy and sightless. She hadn’t even been in a chariot, but she’d been in the wrong place when the Ares chariot had careened into the stands and something had gone boom.

Lee was pretty certain Ramona and Xander were dead, too. The Ares chariot had been red already, but now it was liquid-red, and there was a single limp hand visible from the wreckage. It wasn’t attached to a wrist.

“Lee!” Hands grabbed him and spun him around so fast he almost lost his balance. “Lee, are you hurt?” It was Lizzy’s voice, and Lizzy’s tell-tale splash of dark pink bangs, but all Lee could focus on were the rest of the campers moving around, and the ones that weren’t, covered in blood and too still.

Ha-Yoon was shouting in English, he realised numbly. That felt wrong. His head counsellor never spoke in English.

“Lee,” Lizzy said again, and her hands cupped his face, forcing her to look at him. Her hands cupped his ears, muffling the screaming.

There was so much screaming.

He blinked up at his sister as her thumb started wiping at his face. “Are you hurt?” she repeated. Lee shook his head. No, he wasn’t hurt, just his ears ringing from all the screaming.

Lizzy’s orange camp t-shirt had red on the shoulder.

“Okay, good,” she said. “Let’s get away from here.”

She didn’t give Lee a choice, tugging on his arm until he followed her, stumbling across the wreckage of the stands.

There was so much blood. Lee saw Gabriel kneeling down next to Marisa from cabin five, his hand faintly glowing as he sang a hymn. The words were drowned out by her screaming, her one remaining hand struggling to free itself from Gabriel’s firm hold while the mangled remains of her right arm slowly knitted up.

Lizzy pulled him past. “Don’t look,” she ordered. “Look at me, Lee. Just me.”

That was easier said than done. Everything was carnage and Lee tripped over one of the new Aphrodite kids where she was cowering behind her head counsellor as the pink-haired girl called out to the rest of her cabin. It sounded like a roll call.

The Aphrodite chariot had been one of the first to flip, careening into the Hephaestus chariot which had then tangled with the Hermes chariot. Lee didn’t know what had happened to the kids in it.

He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

The Hephaestus and Hermes chariots had exploded.

He didn’t know what had happened to those kids, either.

Under his feet, blood-splattered stone turned to red stained grass instead, and he felt Lizzy pull him against her side, burying his face in her dark pink-purple dungarees. “Don’t look,” she repeated, but not looking meant he could just hear more.

Ha-Yoon was still yelling, sending runners to fetch ambrosia and nectar and anything else they could carry from the infirmary. Hooves squelched into the ground, and Lee know if that was the horses or Chiron kicking and tugging at the wreckage of the chariots.

The screaming still hadn’t stopped, even though the voices were turning hoarse.

Make it stop, he begged, but he couldn’t find his voice and Lizzy was still pulling him away. Please, someone, make it stop.

“Lizzy!” Lee heard Ha-Yoon shout. “I need Lee over here!” She was still speaking in English, and it sounded wrong.

Lizzy muttered something that didn’t sound happy, but Lee felt her change direction, tugging them towards their head counsellor.

“Lee’s too young for this!” she argued back as they stumbled forwards, and part of Lee wanted to rebel at that – he was nine, now! – but the world was still screaming and he just wanted it all to stop.

“Do you think I don’t know that?” Ha-Yoon snapped back. “Give him to me. I’ve sent Lauren and Michelle to the infirmary and I need you to go after them and make sure everything’s prepped.”

“Why don’t I take Lee-”

“I need Lee here,” Ha-Yoon cut Lizzy off. “Lee, come here.” Her words were short and abrupt, but she’d just switched back to Ancient Greek, and Ha-Yoon always spoke in Ancient Greek rather than English and that comforted Lee enough to peel away from Lizzy’s side and stumble across the short distance to his Korean sister.

She let him burrow against her jacket, even though the fabric was damp in places. It wasn’t as comfortable as Lizzy. Ha-Yoon was shorter than their sister, and Lee’s head was pressed against her shoulder rather than under her arm. “Lee, I know this is loud and scary, but I need your help,” she said, and he tilted his chin up until he could see her face.

“Mine?” he asked, wondering what he could possibly do in the face of so much blood. He wasn’t a healer like Mitch or Gil or Gabriel.

Ha-Yoon nodded. “We’ve got a triage system set up and I need someone to look after the people that are hurt but not badly,” she said. “You’re good at healing, so I need that to be you, okay?”

Lee swallowed but nodded his head. “Okay,” he whispered.

“Thank you,” Ha-Yoon replied, her voice softening a bit. “Wait here, okay? I’ll send the patients over to you.”

He whimpered as she pulled away, and felt her hand squeeze his shoulder lightly. He didn’t want to be left alone, but he knew Ha-Yoon wouldn’t leave him alone if she had a choice.

He also knew that Mitch and Gil had been in their chariot, caught in the backlash of the explosion, and that they hadn’t got up from where they’d crumpled.

Mitch and Gil were the best healers in camp.

His first patient was the new Aphrodite kid, barely injured but shaking just as much as Lee had been. Still was. He was pretty sure her name was Silena, and that the two of them were the youngest kids in camp. Her head counsellor, Belinda, was with her, and had a nasty cut on her arm that Lee hadn’t seen earlier.

It was something Lee knew how to treat – kids came into the infirmary with cuts all the time, usually after sparring with Ares kids – and Belinda obediently stayed still while he dabbed at it and wrapped it up with supplies Lauren had appeared with just after Ha-Yoon left him. Other campers came up to him, white-faced and red-stained but never with anything worse than deep cuts, and every so often Ha-Yoon came by to make sure his patients were listening to him.

Anyone who didn’t listen to Lee definitely listened to Ha-Yoon.

Eventually, the screaming died down. There was shouting, instead, and sobbing, but it was easier to listen, and to look, when he didn’t have patients to treat.

Looking was a mistake, but Lee couldn’t help it. Marisa’s mangled arm looked horrible even after Gabriel’s healing, and at one point he saw Gil being run up the hill towards the big house on a stretcher, leg twisted the wrong way around and white poking up out of all the red. Mitch had stayed where he’d fallen for some time, even after Gabriel ran to him after finishing with Marisa. When he’d finally been stretchered away, Lee had seen something dark sticking out of his chest.

Slowly, things turned less chaotic. Most of Lee’s patients left him once he’d bandaged them up, heading for where most of the head counsellors were starting to organise clean-up. The ones that stayed tried to help him, or comforted each other.

But things were still bad. The lack of screaming didn’t stop the blood from being everywhere. The less injured campers moving around while the worse patients were transported to the infirmary didn’t stop others being dead.

Lizzy didn’t come back from the infirmary, but Ha-Yoon’s brief stops got longer and longer, until he had no patients left and just her for company, wrapping an arm around his shoulders lightly.

“Time to get cleaned up,” she told him. “And to get away from here.” She shooed him on ahead of her, towards their cabin, and didn’t let him stop until he was in the shower, a pile of clean clothes folded outside and waiting for him.

At the sight of the faint red swirling down the drain with the water and soap bubbles, Lee sat down heavily, wrapping his arms around his knees and cried, because there had been so much noise, so much blood, and he was only nine and people were dead.

He didn’t know how long he spent in the shower when there was a knock on the door, only that at some point the hot water had turned freezing. “Lee?”

He’d used up all the hot water. Lee sniffled. “Coming.”

Lizzy was waiting for him when he stumbled out, dressed in fresh clothes but unable to stop himself from snivelling. Her top was still stained red, but her hands were so clean they almost shone.

She was holding his headphones, the ones his dad had given him in a dream a few months ago and had been on his head when he woke up. “Do you need these?” she asked him. Lee snivelled again and reached for them, letting them close over his ears with a satisfying snap.

The bubble of silence they wrapped him in made him wish he’d had them earlier, when everyone had been screaming and everything had been too loud.

Lizzy tapped him on the shoulder, and he turned to look at her. She pointed at herself, and then the bathroom, then at him and his bunk, ending her pantomime with a shrug.

Lee curled in on himself a little more and nodded. “I used up all the hot water,” he admitted, his voice the only sound that ever got past his headphones and sounding a little tinny in the silence. “Sorry.”

Her laugh was silent, but the way she waved her hand told him she was telling him not to worry about it. She pointed at his bunk again, and Lee did as he was told, slinking over to it and curling up under the covers, even though it was the middle of the afternoon and he knew he wouldn’t sleep.

It was quiet, and there was no blood here.

In the safe cocoon of silence and blankets, Lee could almost pretend the chariot race hadn’t happened.

Almost.

#whumptober2023 #no.3 #“make it stop”#percy jackson and the olympians #riordanverse #fic #blood #major injury #background character death #graphic description of violence #percy jackson fanfiction #riordanverse fanfic #lee fletcher #silena beauregard #original characters #lizzy white #kim ha-yoon #tsari writes fanfiction

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drasin · 2 years

Text

Whumptember Day 11-12

Fandom: Mortal Kombat

Pairing: Kano/Erron Black

World count: ~1000

Warnings: blood, torture, death of background characters, injuries, graphic depiction of violence

Summary:

Black has been kidnapped and tortured, his only hope is Kano.

[prompt list] from @whumptember ! [READ ON AO3]

"Who the fuck is calling now!" The bright light irritated Kano in the dark room. He groaned and rubbed his tired eyes, still staring at the smartphone screen. The number was unknown, so his first instinct was to ignore it, but after reconsidering, he decided to press the green button and taunt whomever decided to wake him up in the morning. "The fuck you want?"

On the other side, he heard unclear noises, along with panting and distortion. It annoyed him enough to move the phone away from his ear with a grimace. He listened to the unreadable noises for a while, but quickly lost patience with the intention of hanging up.

"Kano-" Suddenly his faintly and quietly spoken name stopped him stunned.

It was a barely heard single sound, muffled by rustles and almost whispered, but it was enough... he knew the voice.

"Black? Is that you?" Startled, he put the phone to his ear again, turning the volume up to the top.

"The first warehouse ... to the east." Erron apparently wasted no time in any explanation or greeting. He began to mutter some nonsense, and his voice sounded exhausted. He tore as if he was running out of breath and was still incredibly quiet. "I need your help." The last sentence was almost unheard. And something Kano didn't expect to actually hear.

"What are you talking about? And wait, what help?" Despite his peculiar irritation at the very fact that the cowboy deigned to call him, a short laugh escaped his throat after this request. "You've got to be kidding me."

"Hurry-"

"You listen to me first. You have the nerve to call me after you stood me up last time. Do you have anything to add about that?" There was no answer. All he heard was a clatter and rustling. "You there? Black! You hear me?"

"What the fuck you think you're doing?" A male voice spoke. It wasn't Erron's and sounded as if in the distance.

Next came a gunshot and a loud moan that definitely belonged to Black now. This was followed by another crackle, more noise and then everything went quiet as the call was cut.

For a moment Kano stared at the screen looking for signs of a joke. However, since this was highly unlikely from the cowboy's side in a short moment he got off the bed, pulling on the first pants he could find rolled on the floor with the pair of shoes.

In a split second he grabbed his comms. "Kabal, get the boys. I want you in the garage in two minutes." He didn't wait for a response, clipping the device to his belt, along with several knives he collected from the shelf. "Damn you Black." Before he left the room he also picked up a gun, which he didn't even bother to holster. Then he moved to the exit hoping that the shot he heard wasn't fatal.

__________

"You don't know huh? Then why don't you tell me when you stole my phone bastard!"

Black couldn't defend himself from the punch to the jaw that the man landed on him. He groaned pitifully, dropping his head exhausted. His wrists were burning from the tightly tied rope behind the back of the chair, which was nothing compared to the pain from his shot knee. He slowly bled as his aggressor continuously battered him. That was basically the only thing keeping him conscious in this situation.

"Answer the questions!" A pull on his hair forced him to look up. Blood was flowing in streams from his nose, and in his mouth was only a metallic taste. "You think someone will come for you? You're a dead man! So start talking, and I'll be kind enough to kill you quickly!"

Erron laughed. "Eat shit."

He immediately regretted those words when his torturer stabbed him in the gunshot wound. Black whined in pain as his eyes inevitably glazed over with tears, blurring the view. He became extremely weak and barely registered the next words directed toward him. The man spoke something, but he didn't know if he was mocking him or maybe asking something.

Then a rough hand landed on his throat. He began to regain visibility but in return quickly lost oxygen. He could predict that the guy wasn't very patient and apparently preferred to kill him with his bare hands rather than finally get the information he needed. To his misfortune...

Black was finding it harder and harder to breathe, he couldn't catch any more air. He struggled but the grip only tightened, and his eyes grew dark before him.

Just as he was about to lose consciousness, a loud bang spread across the hall. He felt blood stains splash on his face, and the fingers clenched around his neck loosened as the thug dropped dead to the ground.

"Here's your knight on a white horse!"

Black took a deep breath refilling his lungs. With his remaining energy, he turned his gaze toward the hangar door, watching as the grinning mercenary headed in his direction. "You came..." He whispered weakly, with a strangely sincere relief in his voice.

"Of course, I wouldn't leave a dame in distress." Kano laughed at his own joke. "You look like shit." He sneered, taking his steps unhurriedly and examining Black's entire body. Whether judging his wounds or perhaps just enjoying the view, it was hard to tell. "Spit out the blood."

The command was clear, so Erron, without thinking too much, did as he was told. He leaned over to clean his mouth on the floor instead of on himself. Then his jaw was gripped by a warm hand that pulled him up into a wet kiss.

He closed his eyes, surrendering to that sloppy and deep moment of passion.

When Kano finished, he straightened up and apparently already managed to cut the ropes holding the cowboy to the chair. He shoved the knife back behind his belt and picked him up bride-style with a dorky grin.

Black hissed in pain as he felt his injured knee more sharply. "I hate when you carry me this way." He sighed helplessly as Kano arranged him in his arms to get a more comfortable holding position.

"Yeah I know, and I don't give a fuck."

Black smiled faintly and, exhausted by now, without any more resistance, rested his head on the mercenary's chest. "Fair enough."

#whumptember2022 #day eleven: I need your help #day twelve: torture #erron black #kano #mortal kombat 11 #torture #blood #graphic descriptions of violence #background character death #happy ending #kano x erron black #shortfic

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poorly-drawn-mdzs · 4 months

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Welcome to the Dungeons of Fear and Hunger.

#Fear and Hunger #D'arce Cataliss #Cahara #Ragnvaldr #Enki Ankarian #Unlike Dungeon Meshi - I cannot in good faith recommend this game to a broad audience.#My background with F&H goes as follows: I am hanging out with a friend. He says “hey try this game I've been playing.” I say “Okay!”#I have never heard of this game. I pick the mercenary. I go through 5 min of character history and background. I am mauled to death by dogs #It took me 4 resets to even get in the dungeon. But I finally get there. I am caught by a guard. He cuts off all but one of my limbs #I am forced to crawl around in a blood and corpse pit until the game tells me 'give up idiot'.#I reset. I am mauled by dogs again. I realize this is not for me but I am intrigued enough to go home and watch some playthroughs #And WOW what an interesting game it is! I really do appreciate games that blend their design philosophy with the theme it wants to set #This is a game about fear and hunger. And persevering. And penis (my god is there a lot of penis)#I recommend this to people who like extremely challenging games and can handle the many *content warnings* within this series #If the idea of Bloodborne/eldenring and undertale having a little RPG maker baby sounds appealing to you - give it a shot #It's made by ONE GUY and it's a great horror game. I am just really bad at it.#My friends just enjoy putting me in situations where I scream and yell. We don't talk about the corn mazes. Or the other horror game nights #Apparently I'm funny when I'm Scared!#As people who follow me on twitter might know; I am deep in the pits of this series right now. I will be back with more art.

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hellspawnmotel · 7 months

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remember when I did this?

well I did more

#deltarune #heathers #noelle holiday #kris dreemurr #pizzapants #susie deltarune #nooses tw #blood tw #suicide tw #hanging tw #death tw #art tag #first three were actually done a year ago but i never finished the fourth one until now #partially bc Background Hard but also i was like 'this might be too dark actually'#my friends were like its heathers of course its dark and then i showed them the sketch and they were like oh that IS dark #whatever its done i did it #ALSO this is important some people were confused with this last time: these are based on the MOVIE not the musical #like literally these are screenshot redraws from the movie but with dr characters lol #important bc since the musical makes betty and martha a composite character and in the movie theyre two different girls #and i wouldnt have put susie in the role of martha in the context of the musical. i probably would choose catti for that #and im also. not that fond of the musical. on the whole. for reasons #i do have like five of the songs from it on my showtunes playlist though LMAO #i may not agree with the story and characterization choices but i cant deny bangers #crossover

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hybbart · 22 days

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My piece for chapter 10 of @twodiamondhoes' fic Dirges in The Dark as part of the @hermitshippingbigbang. It's a supernatural western with amazing atmosphere and a lot of research done into the historical aspects. Go read it, it's one of my favourite fics ever.

I switched up my art style to fit the tone and had a lot of fun drawing this. I also tried to do my own research for historical clothing but I'm not the best at researching and at the end of the day chose to go with more identifiable designs than accurate.

It's been a long time since I drew a fight scene, too, I forgot how fun they are. I used some panelling styles I haven't used since my nuzlocke days for the action. This scene really felt like a movie to me it played so clearly in my head, I wanted to capture that movement. There were almost too many scenes to choose from that I wanted to draw.

#death #blood #spoilers #trafficshipping #hermitshipping #hsbb 2023 #solidaritygaming #tango tek #ethoslab #team rancher #fanart #fantasy #spooky #character #comic #background #art #colour #Hybbart

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wangxianficrecs · 9 months

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Casual Happenstance by Belzime

Casual Happenstance

by Belzime

T, WIP, 9k, Background Wangxian

Summary: After breaking up with ex-fiance Meng Yao, Nie Mingjue moves into a new apartment and gets pulled into friendship with the toddler down the hall and his single mother, Jiang Yanli. - “Are you going to stand here and argue with me or are you going to move out of the way so I can set this down?” Her face brooks no room for challenge. “Good, now step aside.” She sweeps past him and finds a space on his countertop for it. “There.” She turns around, hand brushing over Baxia’s head as the dog circles her knees. “Do you have any food allergies? Anything you can’t eat? You’re not vegetarian? Are you alright with spices?” ‘A little odd to ask after you’ve already bullied me into taking it,’ he thinks and says instead, “I eat just about anything.” He watches her relax and realizes she'd been worried, “Oh good.” She says, “I tried to make it a little more mild than usual; last time I made this soup I found out my brother-in-law was vegetarian and has terrible acid reflux. My A-Xian wouldn’t stop laughing, knew the whole time no shame or sympathy for not telling me!” Kay's comments: A very cute and fluffy modern AU with a friendship that I haven't seen explored in fanfic often: Nie Mingjue and Jiang Yanli! Nie Mingjue has recently broken up with Meng Yao and Jiang Yanli is Jin Ling's single mother in this. Jin Zixuan is alive, but there is drama, which I love, because yeah, I want to have Xuanli explored as a broken relationship too!) So, Nie Mingjue and Jiang Yanli! They strike up an unlikely friendship and Nie Mingjue helps out with Jin Ling and there's also some background Wangxian. Very adorable story! Excerpt: He knows her ex is a horribly awkward person, he assumes he knows where they live though Yanli has said he’s never been there. He isn’t going to do anything. It’s not his place to intrude. He’s going to see Xichen, doesn’t want to be late when the man shows up chronically twenty minutes early. But he can’t help brushing a little too close past the man on the way to the elevator. The man startles, turning towards Mingjue and revealing himself. “Mingjue-ge.” The man says and he’s never been easy to read, but the slightly rushed way in which his name came out and complete lack of change in facial expression screams to a specific horror Mingjue has spent most of his life trying to decipher from a different face. “Wangji?!” He chokes out, betrayal punching deep below Mingjue’s diaphragm. Wangji is VERY gay and certainly cannot be capable of having a child only to abandon him? He’s adopting, for Gods’ sake! “Mingjue-da-ge!” another voice shouts as a body drapes itself around Wangji’s shoulders and back. “What are you doing here?” The new man beams. He drops something into Wangji’s hand and Mingjue watches as his best friend’s baby brother’s ears turn bright red when their fingers brush, face unmoving. “Wei Ying.” He greets and motions down the hall, “I live here.”

modern setting, jiang yanli, nie mingjue, modern no powers, pov nie mingjue, dog baxia, single parent jiang yanli, family drama, background character death, hospitalization, domestic fluff, fluff, past nieyao, past xuanli, child jin ling, trauma, neighbors, friendship, misunderstandings

~*~

(Please REBLOG as a signal boost for this hard-working author if you like – or think others might like – this story.)

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bonefall · 5 months

Note

⭕️Hey Bones! Is it ok if you explain and/or elaborate how Crowfeather is abusive to Breezepelt if please?⭕️

I do KNOW that crowfeather is indeed, abusive to Breezepelt, due to the fact that he emotionally and/or physically neglected him - with child neglect being known to BE a form of child abuse - and I also heard that he slashed and/or hit him within one of the books, which I believe is in the book Outcast, in chapter 16.

But I also wish people would talk and be informed about it more within the fandom, because in the parts of the fandom I’ve known portrayed Crowfeather’s neglect on Breezepelt as negative and bad, but not in a way that made me think and/or feel: “Wow, that’s pretty bad. That’s…actually abusive.” I suppose? So I hope more people will talk about it more in that type of way.

Also, please be aware that I have NOT read PoT, OoTS, etc. or barely any warrior cats books, since the majority of the information I got from the series is from the wiki and the fandom, so that probably explains why I didn’t know this part of Crowfeather’s character is as bad as it actually is until now. Also, feel free to talk about Crowfeather’s abuse on Breezepelt I haven’t mentioned and/or don’t know right now as well if you want.

I’m SO sorry that if this ask is unintentionally quite long, and feel free to make sure to take all the time you need to answer it. Thank you!

OH LET'S GOOOO

Breezepelt is both physically and emotionally abused by Crowfeather. I'm not talking about only child neglect; he is screamed at, belittled, and even once hit on-screen.

The fact that Crowfeather both neglected and abused him is very important to the canonical story of Breezepaw. There's actually a lot more to this character than people remember! Even from his first appearances he displays good qualities, a strained relationship with his father and adult clanmates, and is clearly shown to be troubled before we understand why.

As many problems as I have with the direction of Breezepelt's arc (especially Crowfeather's Trial), his setup is legitimately a praiseworthy bit of writing from Po3 which carries over into OotS. To say that Breezepelt was not abused is to completely miss two arcs worth of books SCREAMING it.

BIG POST. Glossary;

INTRO TO BREEZEPELT: The Sight and Dark River

ABUSE: Outcast, Social Alienation, the Tribe Journey.

DARK FOREST: How these factors push him towards radicalization.

For "brevity," I'm not getting into anything post-OotS. I'm just showing that Breezepelt was abused, the narrative wants you to know that he was abused, and that his status as a victim of child abuse is CENTRAL to understanding why he is training in the Dark Forest.

INTRO TO BREEZEPELT: The Sight and Dark River

Our very first introduction to Breeze is when Jaypaw walks off a cliff in the first book of Po3 and is rescued by a WindClan patrol. He's making snarky remarks, and Whitetail and Crowfeather are not happy about it. Whitetail snaps for Crow to teach his son some manners, and Crow growls for Breezepaw to be quiet.

But our proper introduction to him is at his announcement gathering, when Heatherpaw playfully introduces him as a friend,

From the offset something's not entirely right here between Breezepaw and his father. He's cut off by Heatherpaw here, but he's touchy whenever his father is involved, and we're not entirely sure why.

Throughout Book 1, he's just rude, with a notable xenophobic streak. He's a bit of a mean rival character for Lionpaw, as they're both interested in the affections of Heatherpaw and make bids to get her attention, but nothing particularly violent yet.

He participates in the beloved Kitty Olympics and gets buried in liquid dirt with Lionpaw, basically a rite of passage for any arc.

(And Nightcloud has a cute moment where she watches over them until they fall asleep)

As the books progress, the relationship between Crow and Breeze visibly deteriorates. They start from being simply tense with each other in The Sight, to the open shouting and hitting we see in Outcast.

In the very first chapter of Dark River, we learn where his behavioral issues are really coming from;

Crowfeather.

Breezepelt is getting xenophobia from his father. Occasionally he says something bigoted and his dad will agree and chime in, and those are the only positive moments they have together.

(Note: In contrast, Nightcloud explicitly pushes back against xenophobia, chiding Breezepelt for his rudeness to Lionpaw in back in The Sight, Chapter 21. The Sight is the book where a lot of "evidence" that the Evil Overbearing Woman is actually responsible for the rift between father and son but. No. She's not. Though she can be overprotective; Crow and Breeze have a bad relationship when she's not even around in Breeze's first appearance and even his Crowfeather's Trial Epiphany refutes it. Anyway this post isn't about Nightcloud.)

So he starts acting on his bigotry, accusing cats in other Clans of stealing, running really close to the border. What's interesting though, is that this is not entirely his doing. The first time we get physical trouble from Breezepaw, DUSTPELT aggressed it. Breezepaw and Harepaw were just chasing a squirrel and hadn't yet gone over the border at all.

We learn that WindClan is teaching its apprentices how to hunt in woodland, and tensions between the two Clans is starting to escalate as ThunderClan isn't entirely trusting of their intentions.

The second time, fighting breaks out over him and Harepaw actually crossing the border and catching a squirrel. WindClan is adamant that because it came from their land, it's their squirrel. So it's as if Breezepaw is modelling the aggression around him, learning how to behave from the older warriors and his father.

When he joins Heatherpaw and The Three to go find Gorsetail's kits in the tunnels, he's grouchy towards the ThunderClan cats, but very gentle with the kittens. Notably so. When Thistlekit is dangerously cold, he cuddles up next to her, and even assures Swallowkit when she's scared,

Through this entire excursion, he's the one in the comforting roles for the kittens. Breezepaw is the one who is taking time to tell the kits they'll be okay, that he'll protect them, and physically supporting them when they're weak, even when he's terrified.

And it's always contrasted to Heatherpaw who's way more 'disciplined,' as a side note. It's a detail I'm just fond of.

All this to point out,

Breezepelt displays his best qualities when he's away from the older warriors of WindClan, and he's at his worst whenever he's near Crowfeather. Even while he's essentially just a bully character for The Three to deal with. He's gruff but cooperative when it's just him and Heatherpaw interacting with The Three, but mean when there is an adult to please.

We're getting to the on-screen abuse now, but Po3 actually sets up Breezepaw's troubles and dynamics well before it's finally confirmed that he is a victim of child abuse.

ABUSE: Outcast, the Tribe Journey.

In Outcast, Breezepaw's problems have escalated into open aggression towards cats of other Clans, and is now a legitimate concern for his own safety. Yet, he's spoken over by older warriors, and reprimanded at nearly every opportunity, right in front of the warrior of another Clan.

Squilf just asked the poor kid how his training was going, and then Whitetail JUMPS to talk over him so she can complain, RIGHT in front of his face.

They can't even wait until they're alone to grumble something rude about Breezepaw, who is still just a teenager here;

They taught him already that a bit of prey that runs off their own territory still belongs to WindClan, encourage him to blow past borders in pursuit, and started a battle with ThunderClan over this. And then they're pissed off at him for being aggressive, thinking it's deserved to scold him in public.

When Onestar announces that he wants Breezepaw to go on the Tribe Journey, he's devastated by it...

Because he thinks WindClan doesn't like him, and he's right. He's gossiped about, torn into in front of a ThunderClan warrior, and even his own dad doesn't want to be around him. It's clear that Breezepaw's impulsive "codebreaking" behaviors are a desire to prove himself, and once you realize that, the way that he's being alienated is heartbreaking.

But Wait!! Hold on a minute! Where did he get a "patrol of apprentices" from to confront the dogs with, exactly?

Simple. Breezepaw CAN make friends! He actually values them a lot! So much that it's the first thing Crowfeather snaps at him over, out of frustration that his son is also being forced on this journey with him. It's an angry response to his child having emotional and physical needs, resentment that will continue all journey long.

Note that it's plural, friends. Breezepelt has multiple friends, at least one who is not Heatherpaw, and she promises to say goodbye to them.

Up next, they state over and over, Crowfeather and Breezepaw do not like each other. Crowfeather resents being around him and dealing with his rudeness, embarrassed and angry, and Breezepaw is absolutely miserable being sent on a journey to the mountains with a man who hates his guts.

The whole while, Crowfeather is brooding longingly about Feathertail, already thinking about her as soon as he kitty-kisses Nightcloud goodbye, his eyes looking somewhere distant. He makes a jab about loyalty when Breezepaw doesn't understand why they're helping the Tribe.

Breezepaw gets smacked after he's "shoved" at Purdy and acts rude to him, while the other three manage to be polite (while still having internal dialogue about how stinky he is).

Without so much as a, "cut that out," Crowfeather raises his paw and hits him. Breeze is quiet after that.

I don't give a shit how rude your teenager is being. Do not hit kids. Being throttled on the head is not okay.

In spite of the Three not liking Breezepaw, or even Crowfeather, they're constantly noting that their arguments are not normal, and that Crow is a cold, unsupportive father who digs into his kid constantly, and the only time he ever DOES "discipline" his child it's through immediately smacking him.

At one point, the apprentices get hungry, and decide to foolishly hunt in a barn that they know has dogs in it against Purdy's warnings. Once again, JUST like the first two books, Breezepaw is more friendly when Crowfeather is not around.

EVERY time he is alone with cats his own age, he's grumpy but cooperative. Even enthusiastic at times! The minute Crowfeather is in the picture, he's nasty.

Naturally, the dogs show up, but Purdy rescues them. Though Brambleclaw also chews his kids out (and i have strong opinions about bramble's parenting style for another time), Hollypaw is taken aback by the contrast of what a scolding from Brambleclaw looks like vs how Crowfeather reacts.

The narrative is desperately trying to tell you that the way Crowfeather treats his son is not normal.

And then Crowfeather is pissed off that Breezepaw is exhausted from running for his life from hungry dogs,

And he's constantly losing his shit whenever Breezepaw says something as innocuous as "dad im hungry"

Then, Breezepaw is made to watch his dad pine over the grave of a woman who died long before Crowfeather was even considering his mother for a mate. What he feels is jealousy, because he knows his own father doesn't love him anywhere near as much as he loves the memory of Feathertail.

This really goes on and on and on. The ENTIRE trip is like this, with Crowfeather treating Breezepelt poorly, giving him a smack before even verbally warning him, pushing him past his limits and blowing up on him when he asks simple questions about eating or resting.

It all comes to a head in this one exchange, towards the end. Hollypaw ends up snapping at Breezepaw for his rudeness, before having an epiphany.

It's explicit. Crowfeather's emotional abuse, his "scorn" for Breezepelt, is what is driving a wedge between him and all of his older Clanmates. Between EVERYONE in Breezepelt's life who wasn't already his friend. This awful treatment is only making him worse and worse.

Realizing this, she has more sympathy for him, but it's too late. He continues to be rude to her because he feels insulted, and her patience completely runs out. She's just a kid. They're both just kids. She's not responsible for fixing him when he's pushing everyone away at this point.

That's the end of Breezepelt in Outcast. It can't be helped anymore. Any spark of friendship they had together in the barn, or in the tunnels, is gone.

As the series progresses, Crowfeather continues to refuse any personal responsibility for the mistreatment of his son, even pinning all of Breezepelt's behavioral problems on Nightcloud. He is a cold, selfish father who only ever thinks about his own pain and reputation.

DARK FOREST: How these factors push him towards radicalization.

Everyone talks about the Attack on Poppyfrost, which happens in the first book of OotS, in oversimplified terms. YES he is going after a nun and a pregnant woman. I've never said that's not Bad.

But no one talks about "WHY", and that reason is NOT just that he desires power like so many other WC villains. Breezepelt makes his motivation very clear on the page.

Escalating to violence was about making Jayfeather feel the way that he does.

When Breezepelt says that he wants Jay to be surrounded by "lies, hatred, and things that should never have happened," he's talking about the way HE grew up, knowing his father never wanted him, and that his Clan HATES him as a result. Killing Poppyfrost is about trying to frame Jayfeather for her murder, so ThunderClan won't trust him anymore.

When Jayfeather points out the simple truth that what Breezepelt is saying doesn't make any goddamn sense, his hatred "falters." He's blaming his half-clan half-brother for his own treatment because of the reveal, but totally failed to consider that JAYFEATHER'S ALREADY GOING THROUGH IT... so his response is just this pitiful, "s-shut up, man."

Then the ghost of Brokenstar and Breezepelt bounce him back and forth between them like a beach ball for a bit until Honeyfern's spirit shows up.

Breezepelt's childhood abuse and social alienation was a hook that the Dark Forest latched onto, to reel him in. His anger at his half-brother is so obviously misplaced that its absurdity was something Jayfeather pointed out.

We soon learn that it's the Dark Forest who's planting that ridiculous idea in his head;

The narration is SCREAMING, "The Dark Forest is validating the anger he feels towards his father, and redirecting it towards The Three." He's described as 'kitlike,' Tigerstar's eyes are compared to a hypnotizing snake.

This prose could not make it more obvious if it drove to your house, beat you with it, and then spoon fed you the point while you were hospitalized.

At the end of this scene, Tigerstar sends Hawkfrost to recruit Ivypaw. This scene where Breezepelt is being lovebombed, and the command to start grooming Ivypaw, ARE LINKED. That was a choice.

A VERY GOOD choice! Again, as many issues as I have with OotS, its handling of indoctrination is unironically fantastic, and it owes a good amount of that to the outstanding setup of Breezepelt that was done back in Po3. And that setup doesn't work if Crowfeather was merely distant.

Breezepelt was abused by his father, both verbally and physically. It drove him to be more aggressive to prove himself, modeling the battle culture around him. The adults of WindClan judged him based off Crowfeather's responses, shunning and belittling the 'problem' teenager, which eventually drove Breezepelt to the only group that he felt "understood" him.

In a book series that is RIFE with abuse apologia, this is one of the few times that there's any behavioral consequences for abuse and the narrative holds the perpetrator accountable for it.

But people hear Crowfeather's deflective excuse in The Last Hope where he says he never hated him, blames Nightcloud for everything, and just lick it up uncritically.

Gee whiz, I wonder why the guy who never blames himself for any of his problems would suddenly say it was his ex-wife's fault. Real headscratcher!

(Crowfeather's Trial then goes onto, for all my own problems with it, also hold Crow accountable as the reason why Breezepelt turned out like he did. But that's a topic for another day.)

#This is headcanon territory here. But one day I realized I can read Breezy-P with BPD and he became a blorbo.#Never been able to unsee it and it massively endears him to me... Breeze Pelt Disorder...#I actually REALLY hate how his arc was resolved and strongly feel that he should have progressed into a bigger problem #But I equally strongly feel that being redeemed is the ideal ending for him #so if it was between him being pure evil/redemption death or the awful halting we got at the end of oots....#I'd pick the halting over him being pure evil or a redemption death.#I think BB made me REALLY fall in love with him. He's my sweet cheese. My good time boy.#Bones when he sees an angry black cat: ''i can fix you. first i must break you. but then i can fix you''#Like. what i dislike about where he went is that even if your anger issues came from abuse. you STILL are responsible for your actions #but in the end getting that Shitty Dad Approval fixes him. Not his own growth or self-reflection.#it feels like BREEZE gets his agency stripped away for HIS ABUSIVE DAD'S character arc #It retcons in a reason why Breezepelt is not still a problem and then he faded into the background.#while Crowfeather continues to get supporting roles and every now and then Breeze now looks at him fondly #BLECH.#Crowfeather #Breezepelt #Abuse #Child Abuse #Warrior Cats Analysis #And now you know anon!!

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carnivalcarriondiscarded · 6 months

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thinking about Eddie & hyacinths again

#as you can surmise im Perfectly Normal about it #this man doesnt make me insane at all. nope.#trying out some new coloring and texture and background things...#on a side note. and i say this so lovingly bc theyre my favorite flowers #FUCK DRAWING HYACINTHS ALL MY HOMIES HATE DRAWING HYACINTHS #that was hell on earth.#ANYWAY THIS DUDE IS NEAT I HOPE HE DIES #nah im jesting im Jesting. am i tho #dead or alive i want him to experience unimaginable horrors and then die ten times and come back Normal #bc eddie strikes me as a 'dying would fix them' character #whether its a real death or a perceived death or Youve Been Dead The Whole Time death dont care dont care #i need him dead on the ground for at leeeaaaast five minutes #id be frothing at the fucking mouth. ragh #scribble garnish #welcome home #welcome home puppet show #eddie dear #originally this was gonna be a Very bloody little piece #but then my brain went 'hey. symbolism. what if the blood was flower petals. from hyacinths'#and ohhhh i couldnt pass that up #i wish i did! i would have had a lot more fun drawing a gruesome injury rather than Those Damn Flowers!#i dont know why ive latched onto the hyacinths outside the post office but my brain wont let go #ITS JUST SO SPECIFIC. why why whyyyyyy put that specific flower by this specific guy #especially flowers with Those Meanings and That Myth #*violently shaking the site* WHAT DO YOU MEANNNNNN #ok im getting myself too worked up i need to touch grass or poke the fire

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br-disaster · 8 months

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NMJ survives the qi deviation AU

#nie mingjue #nie huaisang #nie brothers #cql fanart #mdzs fanart #his death is very important to the narrative and development of characters but have you considered #the fact that i love him and i want him to retire and live happily ever after #i have shamelessly used this background on 3 different drawings

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rookthorne · 2 years

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Lucidity | ʙᴜᴄᴋʏ ʙᴀʀɴᴇꜱ

Pairing; none Word Count; 704 Warnings; hurt/slight comfort, WS!Bucky, graphic description of background character death, graphic description of blood A/N; Lana - this is a short one! you say. To which I reply with; yeah, I know, hell has frozen over.

WHUMPTOBER MASTERLIST

God worked in mysterious ways, they knew that when they worked on him, experimented on him. Little did they know they would meet their maker at the end of a titanium hand, blood-stained, and vengeful.

The Asset’s order was to move, so he stalked the winding hallways.

The Asset’s order was to kill, so he discharged his weapon without hesitation until blood painted the walls, and a body hit the floor.

The Asset’s order was to wait, so he waited, and waited, and waited.

Never any deviations, never any abnormalities, never any hesitation - until the moment he was left too long without supervision.

His handler refused his usual weaponry, instead, he was handed a blade with a serrated edge and a bound handle. It was weighted, perfectly balanced in his hand when he swung it between the vertebrae of his target’s neck.

Their shout of pain cut short with the small pop of bones dislocating and he slumped at The Asset’s feet, where blood pooled faster than a river. Dully, he noted he had punctured an artery, which meant a mess.

Extraction went according to plan, each step-in motion like a well-oiled machine as the van drove away from the scene. Police hadn’t even arrived, and that meant he had completed his mission, almost to perfection.

If only there wasn’t a mess.

The potholes in the road made the van jerk to and fro, but The Asset remained impossibly still, his gaze entirely honed on his hands. Both of which differed, but were coated in crimson; flesh turned red, titanium stained maroon.

His hands - the fists of Hydra - were a weapon at their command, but they were interwoven with the body and soul of a man that never, ever, gave in. No matter what, no matter the cost.

But The Asset didn’t understand something - how the hell could the blood of another man staining his hands cause this? How can he feel as though he was looking at his hands, through the eyes of another man so struck with terror, that a roll of nausea bubbled in his own gut like poison.

How?

“Soldat!” The Asset’s gaze snapped upwards and to the side to find the doors wide open, an expectant guard with a rifle awaiting his departure.

His boots slammed against the metal of the floor and thudded against the cement when he landed smoothly, expectantly, in front of the guard. He did not dare speak, not when the muzzle was still digging into the skin of his face and into the bones of his skull.

“Decontamination,” the guard barked and The Asset barely resisted the urge to flinch. “Now!”

Obediently, The Asset stalked towards the base, carefully watching the guards he passed for any sign of torment. Decontamination was painful enough - but it was better than the chair.

The dried blood on his right hand cracked and flaked when he flexed it into a fist, and he marvelled at it briefly, the sound of his footsteps halting for barely a moment. There was a flash of a vision - no, a memory? - where a hand, one of flesh and bone, was holding his, but there was no blood. Only the soft feel of another man’s hand on his own.

“Move!” A voice ordered behind him and he startled. What was that? “Now!”

He started walking again, but his gait was off kilter, a slight change in pace and willingness to follow orders.

Lucidity was a rare gift - one that only came when he was away from the chair too long.

The blood that stained The Asset’s hands only brought more of Bucky Barnes to life. His hands - he could not stop staring, even when the stock of the guard’s gun connected with the back of his skull.

“Move it!”

Bucky was on him faster than the guard could draw breath.

The plates of Bucky’s fingers whirred when the bones and ligaments of the guard’s neck audibly crunched under the pressure, and Bucky growled with satisfaction; one less monster. The blackened essence of life seeped like ink from the guard’s orifices, and it collected in the seams of Bucky’s hand.

It was a start. A new ink to write his story, no matter how bloodied and horrific it may be. The Asset, their Soldat and weapon, was going to take them down from the inside, and Bucky would not stop until the earth was black - soaked - with their blood.

Graphics & Header made by yours truly.

Masterlist | Library | AO3 | Wattpad

#whumptober2022 #no.24 #blood covered hands #marvel #fic #hurt/slight comfort #WS!Bucky #background character death #graphic descriptions of blood #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #rookthorne's works #Lucidity

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