#tw:wounds

[arcatsk]

Whumptober Day 27 "Protection"

[dianneking]

It’s not too late if we’re alive (Brienne/Reader)

A/N: It’s Day Two of May Trope Mayhem by @duckprintspress​ and I’ve never felt so inspired to write! Today’s prompt is War Setting so you get a WWII AU Brienne x Reader fic, because why not! (thanks to @weemssapphic​ for our historical AU talk, that made me buckle down and write). As always, link to AO3 in title below.

Disclaimer: I didn’t have the time to properly research this, so there might be historical inaccuracies on technical stuff like how war hospitals were organized etc. Disclaimer # 2: I seem physically unable to keep my fics under 1000w, blame the angst, not me.

Tags: War, WWII, Hospitals, Wounds  (not graphic), Talk of Death, Talk of Bombing, Smoking, Second-person Narrator, Angst, Breakups, Angst with a Happy Ending, No use of Y/N.

Fandom: Game of Thrones Pairing: Brienne of Tarth/Reader Wordcount: 1258w

It’s not too late if we’re alive

Any day that passed, you knew it could happen. You were at war after all. Day in and day out the battles raged, and humans fought against other humans, machines against other machines, metal ringing against metal, their screams loud in the smoke-filled air. 

They fell in troves. Some made it to you, others weren’t so lucky. And you knew that Brienne was there in the trenches, amongst her soldiers, leading them, the first woman to ever serve in the British Army, the first one to rise to the rank of officer.

Every time you woke up from your fitful slumber, every time a wounded soldier was brought in for treatment, you prayed not to recognize her on the stretcher, not to see her cornsilk hair matted with blood underneath the helmet. One day your prayers went unanswered.

“Chief Nurse! Hurry! It’s the lieutenant-general!”

After all this time, her figure was still so achingly familiar to you as the litter bearer brought her in, her long limbs limp on the stretcher, soot and blood marring the uniform she was so proud of.

Up until now you had managed to avoid her, only catching glimpses of her when she came to visit the wounded, but now here she was, bare inches away from you. She was still beautiful, even with the inevitable traces of time and war. It took all of your strength not to reach out and brush your fingers against the soft skin of her jaw. You shouldn’t.

After all, the last words you had exchanged had not been the friendly sort.

*

“Will you at least promise me you’ll come back?” you had asked. She had already donned her uniform, and the coarse wool scratched your palm as you put your hand on her elbow.

“You know I cannot promise you that.”

“But I love you.”

Her face had hardened, as it always did when you told her how you felt. You had told yourself that she was simply unused to being loved. But a dark voice within you was starting to ask whether it was because she was ashamed of you, or frustrated with your clinginess. Whatever the reason, she never said those words back.

“You shouldn’t say those things so lightly.”

“Just because you refuse to accept my feelings for you doesn’t mean that they are not real.”

“You are young, but you were never naïve. This was never something that could last.”

You had been young at the time, true. You had never experienced heartbreak before. Even the simple act of breathing sent searing pain through your chest. Your eyes had filled with tears, and your mouth with rage.

“Is that all it was to you? Just something to keep you entertained between wars?”

She had not dared to answer you. To this day, you still wondered why. Was it because it had been more for her as well and she didn’t want to lie to your face, or was it because she didn’t want to admit that she, Captain Brienne of Tarth, paradigm of righteousness, had used you for your affection just for as long as she had needed a warm body?

You had been young at the time, and first love is never easily forgotten. Even if unrequited.  

*

“Is God so unmerciful then?” The sudden sound of her voice in the silence of the officers tent almost made you drop the bandages you were carrying. You turned to her, wondering if she was growing delirious due to the high fevers she was running. But her eyes, wide and feverish though they were, were trained on you, with razor-sharp focus. “Have I not atoned for my past mistakes with my deeds? Why must He torture me with cruel visions?”

Oh.

She thought you were a fever dream, one sent to torture her. You pretended it didn’t hurt. It shouldn’t have, not as much as it did. Not even if she had been your first love.

Your only love, corrected a voice inside of you that sounded a lot like your younger self.

“Lieutenant-general, I am not a vision. I am merely the chief nurse. You should try to rest. You have been injured on the battlefield.”

“Is…is it truly you?”

“It is. But I am only here to treat your wounds, not to dig up the past.”

“How are you alive?”

“How is anyone alive these days? Luck, probably.”

“I thought you died in the Coventry bombing.”

“I’m sorry?”

“I sent you letters, and you never answered. I came over last year, but nobody could tell me anything about you. Our house was nothing but a pile of rubble. I thought…”

“Oh, is it our house now? I don’t recall you showing any particular attachment to it when you left.” She was surprised at your vitriol, you could see it in the way her deep blue eyes widened, and in the uncharacteristically hesitation in her answer.

“Darling, I-“

You suddenly felt ashamed of how easily her mere presence could drag out all of your pain, making you feel like that day on your doorstep, watching her walk away, her military boots crushing your heart with each step.

“There are no darlings here. It’s Chief Nurse if you need to address me. But right now, I don’t have time for idle chatter.”

You turned away from her, leaving her behind as she did to you so much time ago.

*

She found you some days later, as you were trying to enjoy the luxury of a short smoke break hidden behind the hospital barracks. She was still limping, but her skin had lost most of its sickly paleness, and she looked even more like the Brienne you used to know. The Brienne you used to love.

“How did you end up becoming a nurse?”

“I was told to do something useful with my life since I refused to marry. I did.”

“You…refused to marry?”

“Lieutenant-general, I hardly think…”

“Brienne. It’s Brienne to you. It’s always been.” You committed the mistake of looking up into her eyes, and instantly felt the irresistible pull they had on you. As if she had never left. You averted your gaze angrily and took a deep drag from the cigarette in your hands, trying to center yourself once again.

“What is your purpose here, Brienne?”

“I thought I had lost you, and I thought I would never be able to tell you. Seeing you here, alive, accomplished, breathtakingly beautiful, it…it felt like a second chance I never deserved to have.”

“Tell me what?”

“Not a day goes by that I don’t regret walking away from you. I’m sorry.”

The unexpectedness of the apology took you by surprise and you turned to her, only to find her much closer than you expected. The words you were thinking of saying died in your throat as you drowned in the maelstrom of feelings within her eyes. She hesitatingly reached a hand over to cup your cheek, as if afraid you’ll suddenly disappear, and her voice was low and broken with a heartache you instantly recognized. It was twin to your own.

 “I love you. I always have. I’m sorry I’m only telling you now. I know it’s too late.”

Her eyes swam with tears, and her face was suddenly getting closer and closer. You reached with a hand behind her neck and pulled her even closer, whispering against her lips, as if it was a secret meant only for her and her alone.

“It’s not too late if we’re alive.”

Liked it? You can find all of my fics on my fanfiction masterlist!

[aliasimagines]

time of dying // pietro maximoff

requested by a lovely anon 💕

Could I request a one-shot/headcanons of pietro reacting to you saving his life (dying instead of him)?

word count: 473

a/n: this is pure angst. im sorry (i am not)

warnings: blood, bullet wounds, death

You weren't a mutant, an enhanced, a super soldier or a trained assassin. You were just a person. A normal human being without any super power. 

But you were also an Avenger. And you swore to protect people and help those in need. 

So when you saw those bullets flying towards Pietro you didn't think much. You didn't need to. You just acted.

When the bullets hit, you didn't feel much. There was a sharp pain all over your body but it became numb real quick. 

"No, no, no.." you distantly heard the sokovian boy from somewhere close to you. 

He was ready to save Clint and the boy, he was ready to sacrifice himself for them. Nobody would miss him except for Wanda. And sure he didn't want to leave his only family left, she already lost so much, but Pietro ultimately knew that he would be missed less than the archer and eventually Wanda would overcome her grief. But this? You laying with bullet holes all over your body, bleeding on the floor, because of him? He didn't want this on his conscience. He did not want anyone to die for him. Because of him. 

"We gotta do something! Someone get a.." Pietro shouted with much panic in his voice but Cap shook his head, tears glistening in his eyes. 

You were already gone. It was too late to do anything. 

"No.. There's no.. No, we-" Pietro felt like that 10 year old kid again who was stuck under the bed, arms protectively wrapped around his sister, waiting for the bomb to go off. He felt just as useless and just as helpless as he did back than. There was nothing he could do. There was nothing he could do. There was nothing he.. 

A strong pair of arms grabbed him by the shoulder. 

"Son, I need you to look at me." Steve said fighting through his own tears and shock. "You have to go and get your sister. We need to leave, now!"

Pietro tears his gaze away from your lifeless body and looks at the man with a puzzled look. 

"Now, son!" 

Pietro swallows the spit in his mouth and runs towards his sister. She waits for him with open arms and a tear stained face. She feels Pietro's pain and wants to cry out but instead just wraps her arms around her twin and lets him cry on her shoulder. 

"Pietro.." she calls with her strong accent. "We need to go."

Pietro nods. She is right. He needs to get his sister to safety. So he runs. Away from Sokovia. Away from his birth country. Away from the horrible memories of their childhood. Away from everything. 

But he can't run away from the image of you, laying on the ground, dead. No. It's burnt into his mind forever. 

[husbandograveyard]

Hello! Recently found you le blog and I was wondering if I could I request an emotional reunion between ace and a female S/o who shows up last minute and saves him at Marineford? It could be hc, whatever makes it easier for you :)

Hi anon! Oofff angst with a semi-happy ending, love that! I hope you like this one, I know it’s a popular trope for the Ace writers and man do I love this trope, but I’m kind of nervous, hoping I can do it justice! Enjoy! <3

2nd person. Female reader. TW: Angst, mentions of death, wounds, fights and war. Obviously, spoilers if you have not seen marineford.

Saving Ace at Marineford - Ace x reader 

When you saw the articles, your heart sank and you thought it stopped beating for a bit. 

You had known this whole thing was a stupid idea, you had had such a big argument when he decided to go after Teach. And now you were regretting that so much as well. The kiss you had shared when he left was salty from your tears and rough because of all the anger that had mixed in with the feelings of love and desperation. 

And now you realized that might very well have been the very last kiss the two of you shared. Whitebeard was of course going to save his son, but would it be enough? Would you be in time? 

The war was a mess, people fighting right and left, people dying, screams echoing all around. It was chaos. It was terrifying. And yet, you had only a little time to process it before your focus shifted to the one man you came here to rescue. Everything else became a blur. 

So far, you had been able to do very little. Breaking through the frontlines was nearly impossible. Luckily Ace’s brother seemed to be doing an okay job in getting to him? It seemed so weird because he didn’t seem that strong. And yet, he was so close to the platform, so close to Ace regaining his freedom. 

Your heart burst with joy when you saw that he was free, but the struggle was far from over. Getting out of there and out of harm’s way was still going to be a difficult thing. 

He was so close, you were ready to jump into his arms and apologize a thousand times over for the way you said goodbye, apologize again and again and express your love. To hold him close and to make him promise to never ever go away by himself. 

But then Akainu came dangerously close, and you could see all your plans fall to pieces right in front of you if he was going to do what you predicted he’d do. 

Your body moved of his own, hot lava grazing your left leg as you pushed the two brothers out of the way, surprising the two of them and their attacker.

Red-haired Shanks arrived to stop the war before Akainu could go in for a secondary attack. 

Not that you noticed. You were too busy clinging to your boyfriend, touching his face, his freckles, your lips following your hands, smothering him with kisses. It took him a hot minute to figure out that it was you, and before you could say anything, he was just holding you tight. 

You broke down in sobs, no idea of what was going on around you anymore, clinging to him desperately as he created a little distance to look at your face and wipe away your tears, looking at you in what you could only think was a mix of adoration and surprise. 

“Ace I’m sorry I-” 

He interrupted you by pressing his lips to yours. Your worries melting away as you felt secure in his arms, all the noises of what was going on around you slowly becoming silent as if the world was just the two of you. 

“I am sorry for worrying you y/n.” his voice was not nearly as steady as he had hoped it would have been. He sounded exhausted. 

“Don’t be sorry, just…. don’t ever leave again” 

“I won’t”

[banshee-grove]

His arrows were refreshed, with five sticking out of his quiver. His left side still hurt, but at least he now had some antibiotic cream on it to help after some unsightly colors began to ooze out of it. He had the last half of the tube tucked among his arrows. All was well, as his stomach rumbled and he searched for something easy and eatable to kill. He’d been hungry and hunting before. It was just part of survival to him, and this was possibly among the best fun he’d had in the arena. He loved to challenge himself.

But it didn’t take long for his own hubris to get the better of him. He was sure he was on the trail of what appeared to be a hefty rabbit when he suddenly found the ground give out beneath him. He hit the bottom of the hole hard, but he wasn’t about to let himself just *lie there*. He could feel his scabbed over wound on his side and his arm reopen, but the splitting pain was only temporary as he shoved himself up into a crouched position to face who else was in this hole with him.

@pebblexchiffon​

[cnsystem]

images made by dumb whore (me)

wanna do some more funny doodles but i forgot abt these and dont think i posted them!

this is simply what i think Vader Eloha looks like. Also Unmasked Zacherie. and the bitch (batter)

[aerlyse]

An old doodle I did because of a dream I had. In this dream, this poor nice guy was being attacked and he was trying to survive as he could. That Evil-Enemy(tm) wanted the wounded guy to free some power he had and was taking him to the limit in order to force him to use it, but the wounded guy didn’t want because by freeing that power, he would lost control of himself and become a demon. When the wounded guy was near his end and he saw he was unable to stop the Evil-Enemy(tm), which was destroying everything around, he ended acceding to use that power, turning into a powerful bloodthirsty demon.

The feelings in that dream were very strong. The sadness and despair the guy felt when he saw he had no choice but to surrender to what he didn’t want to become got to me, and I wanted to draw it ;.; … -------------------------------------------

Un boceto antiguo que hice por un sueño que tuve. En el sueño, este pobre personaje estaba siendo atacado y trataba de sobrevivir como podía. Un malvado-enemigo(tm) quería que el personaje liberara un poder que tenía, y estaba tratando de empujarle hacia su límite para forzarle a usarlo, pero el chico herido no quería hacerlo, porque si liberaba ese poder, perdería el control sobre sí mismo y se convertiría en un demonio. Cuando el personaje herido estaba cerca de su fin y vio que no tenía forma de detener al malvado-enemigo(tm) , quien estaba destruyendo todo a su alrededor, acabó usando ese poder, convirtiéndose en un poderoso y sanguinario demonio.

Los sentimientos de ese sueño fueron muy fuertes. La tristeza y desesperación que el chico sintió cuando vio que no tenía otra opción que rendirse y hacer lo que no quería me llegaron, y quise dibujarlo y tratar de plasmarlo ;.;…

[shokujin-art]

I tried to do a comic about how Omen met Warren (it was too long so I didn’t have the strength to finish it) so here have one of the biggest scenes I prepared for it <3