#brothers whump

[1whump-dump1]

Home and Away - Josh's brain injury

(btw, in the second last gif he tells his brother that he is scared 🥺)

...

You can find all the episodes that are shown in these gifs+more by searching the following titles on Dailymotion:

Home and Away 6319 5th November 2015 Home and Away 6320 5th November 2015 Home and Away 6321 9th November 2015 Home and Away 6324-6325 12th November 2015 Home and Away 6326 16th November 2015 Home and Away 6330 19th November 2015

[hellothereimaloser]

outsiders request? Sick Ponyboy and Darry and Soda caring for him? bonus points if you make ponyboy look really feverish and on the verge of tears

Lol do i get bonus points 🤩

[geevesthevieve]

Summary: Two scenes after the world falls down on them. Two different moments in time and in life where they wonder what they mean to each other. Two similar situations that reflect each other like mirrors as they face the heavy weight of potentially losing each other.

Two brothers carrying each other home.

----The first in a series of fics of Dick and Jason being there for each other.

(I wrote this months and months ago with a plan to have two parts. I will finally be posting that second part today!)

(Also, the amazing @ashrayus sent me the BEAUTIFUL art that she was inspired to make from the first chapter of this!!! I can't get over how talented she is! Definitely go check out her work!!!! 😍)

[sp0o0kylights]

Adopt a Jock Part 1 

Part 2 

Part 4

Shoutout to @bloomingconflagration for the title!!! And a HUGE thank you to everyone who left comments or gave suggestions!! I love you all you amazing, silly humans <3 <3 

There comes a time during a long work shift were your average overworked and underpaid employee starts to think they’re hallucinating. 

In Gareth’s case, it was when Steve Harrington walked through the doors of Palace Arcade, making a beeline right for him. 

“Gareth?” Steve asked, like he was the one out of place. “What are you doing here?” 

As if people just randomly stood behind the counter of retail and entertainment spaces with a nametag on. 

You know, for fun.

With a great deal of restraint, Gareth managed to hold the sass back, instead opting for a far more polite; ‘I work here, Harrington. What are you doing here?” 

Because no matter how much Hellfire had adopted Steve into its fold, Gareth could just not see the guy choosing to spend his free time at the local arcade. 

Not of his own free will, anyway. 

“Pick up duty.” Steve said, proving him right not even a second later. 

“Of what?” Gareth asked, puzzled, right before Steve’s name was shouted in stereo.

A miniature stampede took place as several children proceeded to swarm him like oversized puppies, most of them trying to talk at once. 

“One at a time, we talked about this!” Steve barked, loud enough to be heard over the commotion. “You’re giving me and Gareth here a headache!” 

He waved his hands in a “calm down” gesture, shaking his head and looking at Gareth in exasperation. “Probably giving the people in the video store next door one too, lord.”  

“Wait.” A curly-haired kid said, looking between the two older teens like he was watching the laws of the universe rewrite themselves in front of him. “You know Gary? How?”

“We are not close enough for you to call me Gary.” Gareth said dryly, for what felt like the fifteenth time that day. 

This was a regular battle between him and the kids who haunted the arcade.

(One had overheard Grant call him Gary the last time he was in, and ever since, every single child that graced this fine establishment with Cheeto-dusted fingers and candy-induced sugar rushes had decided to replace his actual name with his nickname.

The fact it clearly frustrated him only egged them on. )

“We go to school together Dustin,” Steve said, as if he were talking to someone particularly dense. 

“Yeah? You go to school with lots of people. You bitch about most of them.” Dustin fired back.”Plus Gary’s a total nerd. I bet you call him names.” 

"Hey, language!" 

Gareth’s eyes narrowed as he glared down at the little fucker. He was definitely going to remember Dustin (and equally going to watch and see what arcade games the younger teen played-- and top the score chart of every single fucking one.

He might be a nerd but he wasn’t gonna take that shit from a middle schooler.) 

“Hate to break it to you brats, but your babysitter here just joined our D&D club.” Gareth replied, if only to finally one-up the little bastards. “Our DM is building him a character as we speak.” 

(Which wasn't even a lie. Eddie was building a character for Steve. The guy just refused to give any input on grounds that he "wasn't going to play anyways." )

Abrupt and sudden silence, as several stunned faces stared at him. 

“Oh goddammit.” Harrington cursed, as the entire herd of children turned on him in unison like some kind of hivemind horror monster. 

“You joined the D&D club,” Dustin said slowly, outraged. “And you let them make you a character sheet, but you won’t play with us!?” 

“What the hell Steve!” The sporty-looking one whined, clearly hurt. “You won’t sit in on our games! You said they were lame!” 

“They are lame.” Steve defended immediately, pushing at sporty-kids head. It was fond though, the kind of gentle shove an elder brother gave to a younger one. It caused the kid's camo banana to fall into his eyes, which he adjusted quickly with a grumble. “Turns out the high school version’s cooler.” 

“He’s lying.” That from the bitchy one, whose arms were crossed over his chest, a glare on his face. “Steve probably paid Gary to say that” 

Gareth had seen that exact same stance on Steve at lunch that day, and wondered if the little asshole knew who he was copying when he did it. 

“Who cares about D&D?” This from the redhead, standing with another girl giggling in her ear. “I’m just amazed Steve has friends.” 

“Really Mayfield?” Steve said, looking almost betrayed. As if he thought she was going to be the one to defend him in this weird little showdown.

The girl leaning on her giggled harder, making Mayfield grin (even if she tried to hide it.)  She whispered something, which the redhead outright laughed at before repeating; “Adult friends even!” 

“Okay.” Steve said, clearly cutting the kids off before they could embarrass him further. “Thank you, unwanted peanut gallery, for all of that lovely commentary. Now go back to playing the games you little shits robbed me of all my quarters for, or we’re leaving.” 

Henderson’s eyes narrowed. “I thought you were here to pick us up?” 

“Oh I’m sorry, did Jonathan magically appear behind me in the last five seconds?” Steve turned around pretending to search the parking lot through the windows. “No? Then I guess we’re still waiting. Unless you, Lucas and Max want to leave first.” 

“You’re such an ass.” Dustin huffed, rolling his eyes. “Why aren’t you waiting in the car anyway?” 

“It’s raining, it’s cold, and I thought I’d come in to say hi to my friend.” Steve replied, so quickly it took Gareth a moment to realize what Steve referred to him as. 

He'd gotten the friend title before Eddie. 

His best friend was going to fucking freak. 

“Are you done drilling me or are you going to let Max kick your ass at DigDug again?” 

“Shit!” Henderson cursed, spinning to intercept the redhead as she bent to put a coin in said arcade machine. “Max, you said you’d let me keep my leaderboard score today! Max!” 

“I know you said you watched kids, but this wasn’t exactly what I was imagining.” Gareth said, slumping against the counter.  

(He'd been thinking of Steve watching much younger kids for one, and two, he was starting to get the idea the babysitter thing was used as an insult. 

Gareth knew a big brother vibe when he saw it.) 

Steve gave him a tired look. “Me neither man. Me neither.”

 Then; “You fucking owe me for that D&D comment, they’re never going to shut up about it now.”

Gareth winced. “Sorry. I was trying to help.” 

Steve blew out a breath. “I know. I appreciate the attempt.” 

Which was better than Steve bitching at him for it, not that he’d really ever done that to Gareth. 

The two of them hadn’t quite worked up the nerve to be playful like that with each other, though they had occasionally jumped in on opposing sides to arguments Eddie caused. Gareth figured they’d get there in time, but even with all the progress Steve made, he still had more off days than on. 

It was a fragile line to walk with him. Especially when there wasn’t a single member of Hellfire who wanted to ruin the progress they made. 

(Even if half of them would never admit to it.) 

“Steve?” A voice interrupted, quiet in a way that contrasted directly with how loud the rest of the brat pack was. 

Steve closed his eyes for a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose with his hand as if to starve off a headache. 

“Yes, Baby Byers?” He asked after a long, painful pause, turning to look at the saddest looking kid in the bunch. 

“Is there actually a D&D club at the high school?” 

The kid looked at Steve like he wasn’t entirely certain he wanted to hear the answer, but was hopeful for the outcome he wanted anyway. 

It was the kind of thing that pulled even on Gareth’s heartstrings, and he was almost immune to anything involving giant, sad eyes after a solid year of working at the arcade. 

(Never mind Eddie’s own puppy dog looks.)

Steve’s voice gentled, in a way Gareth had never quite heard him use before. “There is. You’d love it, it’s called Hellfire. I’m sure it’ll still be there next year when you come in as a freshman.” 

He nudged him with his shoulder playfully, smiling when the younger boy perked up. “If you’re nice, Garebear here might even put in a good word for you.” 

“Garebear?” Max repeated with a burst of laughter, appearing behind Steve like a fucking ghost. “Oh my god.” 

“No.” Gareth said, bolting upright from his slouch as he stared at her in horror. “Do not call me that.” 

“Sure thing, Garebear.” She outright cackled, as Steve sent him a wide-eyed, apologetic face. 

“What did you just call Gary?” The sporty one--Lucas, asked, a wide grin overtaking his face. 

“I swear to God.” Gareth threatened, as Steve took another dramatic look over his shoulder. 

“Hey look Jonathan’s here!” He yelled, jerking a thumb over his shoulder as he started quickly walking backwards. “Come on, dipshits, we're leaving!” 

“Bye Garebear!” Lucas and Max sang together, following after him. 

“Harrington!” Gareth howled, as Steve mouthed ‘Sorry’ over his shoulder, all but bolting out the door. 

“I like Garebear a lot better than Gary.” Another, random child informed him with a grin as he sauntered past, arcade tickets in hand. 

Steve Harrington, Gareth decided, was a dead man. 

Not even Eddie’s fucking crush on the guy could save him now. 

xXx

“Did you know Harrington has a literal pack of kids he watches?” Gareth asked a few hours later, messing with his drum kit as he set up for band practice. "He even drives them around." 

More than that though--he’d seemed almost normal around them. That was the most Gareth had seen the guy banter or act relaxed since Eddie had dragged him over. 

“He’s mentioned it multiple times.” Grant replied, tuning his bass. “You have ears Gareth, use them.” 

“Gareth? Listen?” Jeff teased as he dragged an amp into the garage. “I don’t think I’ll live to see the day.” 

"Oh screw you guys.” Gareth growled, winging a drumstick toward his friends for the insult.

Grant, long used to Gareth's tantrums (and Eddie's dramatics)  didn't look up from his bass.

Not even when the drumstick hit the wall with a bang!-- allll the way near the opposite end of the couch, entirely opposite of either him or Jeff. 

"As usual, your aim is dead on." Jeff appraised sarcastically. 

"Like I'd ever actually hit you." Gareth grumbled with a pout. "I was gonna say the kids are older than I expected."

He reached down, blindly fishing for another drumstick from the bucket of them next to his kit. 

He came up empty. 

"Hey Grantman." Gareth asked, tone changing to something mildly embarrassed. "Could I uh, could I get the drumstick back?" 

He got a flat stare back. "No." 

"What did I do to get stuck with such dramatic friends?" Jeff joked as he began moving all the amps he’d pulled in back into their usual places. 

They hadn't had time to unload anything other than the drums after their last show and the regret was real. 

"Eddie’s been standing on tables since seventh grade, you knew what you were getting into." Gareth fired back, making grabby hands for his drumstick. 

"And you never grew out of being that dorky middle schooler who snuck into Hellfire games and screamed we were all going to die every time anyone made a bad play." Jeff shot back. "Yet here I am, once again wondering if I should just permanently confiscate Eddie's snacks, your drumsticks, and now Harrington's fricken spatula." 

"One year. I am one year younger than you and you act like it's an entire century!" Gareth muttered, as Grant relented and leaned over to fetch said drumstick. 

"We all know Eddie chucks food at people, but what'd Steve do with a spatula?"  Grant asked as he tossed it back to Gareth.

He missed and nearly took out a cymbal in the process. 

"He had a snit while we were making chocolate roulade cause it wouldn’t roll right. Flung the spatula around so much it splattered whip cream on his ceiling." Jeff shook his head as he finished hooking an amp up to his guitar. "I had to rescue it from him." 

"His ceiling?" Gareth said in disbelief. "Wait, you were in Harrington’s kitchen?" 

"Yeah?" Jeff looked up to find his friends staring at him. 

Grant blinked. "The fuck?" 

“Can we just play?” Jeff complained, just as embarrassed as Gareth had been.

“No.” Gareth said, retrieved drumstick nearly falling from his hands in shock. “You don’t get to casually drop that you went to Harrington’s house to help him bake and then try to get us to play right after!” 

Jeff, who had done exactly that, blushed, skin darkening as he fiddled with his guitar.

“It wasn’t a big deal.” He said finally with a shrug, as if this was something he did all the time and not the groundbreaking revelation that it was.

“Did you meet his parents?” Grant said, sitting up from the couch. “What did his house look like?”

Jeff finally gave up the pretense of playing his instrument.

“I didn't, and it was kinda sad, actually.” He said, as if he didn’t live for this kind of shit. 

Gareth knew better than anyone how much of a fricken gossip Jeff could be. 

“His house was enormous. I only saw the first floor, and his kitchen is huge.” He set his hands apart at a good distance, showcasing just how large “huge” was, before continuing. 

“But it was weird. It was like a model home. No pictures on the walls, no art, no personality to the place at all.” 

“What are we talking about?” Eddie asked, finally returning to Gareth’s garage from where he’d been gathering up all the wires they’d thrown haphazardly into his van. 

“Jeff went to Harrington’s house.” Grant and Gareth tattled as one. 

“To help bake stuff for this Friday!” Jeff defended, the blush creeping back onto his face. “I was curious about his chocolate roulade recipe and he invited me over!” 

“When was this?” Eddie asked, staring at Jeff like he’d grown a second head. 

Or more likely, Gareth knew, in jealousy. But he wasn’t going to call Eddie out on that just yet. 

“Yesterday. We got to talking about it in the parking lot after school.” Jeff said with an embarrassed shrug. “He said he wasn’t the best at explaining how to do things and that he’d rather show me instead.” 

“Kinky.” Grant deadpanned, making Jeff sputter. 

“You sure you didn’t see his bedroom, Jeff? It’s okay if you fell for the ‘wanna see my music collection’ line. We won’t judge you.” Gareth waggled his eyebrows, ducking with a laugh when Jeff went to whack him. 

“Shut up, we just made the chocolate roulade!” Jeff’s ears were red now, and huh, maybe Eddie wasn’t the only person with a crush.  

“Guys.” Eddie reprimanded, tone warning. 

“Sorry Eds, you know we don’t mean it.” Gareth soothed. Of course, his best friend's anger was less about the gay comments or Steve’s reputation as Hawkin’s man whore than it was about Steve fucking Jeff (and not Eddie) but he had a feeling it wouldn’t be appreciated if he pointed that out either. 

Eddie didn’t respond, eyes already back on Jeff. "Details, Jeffery, give us the details!"  

He dropped onto the couch, flapping his hands at Jeff in his version of a "sit down" gesture. 

Jeff sighed, but repeated what he'd just said for Eddie as he took a seat on the edge of an amp, placing his guitar down gently. 

 "I think Wayne was right. I don't think anyone else lives there but Steve. Not full-time anyway." He finished. 

Which sounded like the best fucking thing ever until Gareth thought about it for more than two seconds. 

Tried to imagine what his life would be like if his parents and siblings were gone. Not for a day, or even a weekend, but always. 

How silent his normally loud house would be. 

Thought instantly that he'd be inviting Eddie, his friends, and hell, l even Wayne, over as often as they could handle. 

"The way he looked when I showed up, and how quiet he got when I left I just…" Jeff fiddled with his guitar’s strap. "I think he's lonely." 

The four of them sat in silence for a long moment as they digested that. 

“Hargrove kicked his ass right? And Byers?” Grant said finally, breaking the silence ad he stared up at the ceiling. 

“Old news.” Eddie replied absently, jiggling his leg.

“You think his parents were around for that?” Grant continued, slowly.

No one answered outside of Eddie's leg loudly jiggling faster. 

 "Did you see the kids hug him or anything?"

"They're like thirteen. I seriously doubt they're pestering Steve for hugs." Gareth answered flatly.  

 "So he got his ass kicked, his parents are gone, he was supposed involved in that whole has leak thing…" Grant trailed off with an air of someone who expected the end of his sentence to be obvious. 

“You’re doing that thing again where you think what you’re saying is obvious and its fucking not.��� Eddie grumped. "Just spit it out." 

His friend's head finally tipped back down from the ceiling, to face the rest of them. “Maybe the flinching is because no one ever touches him anymore unless it’s to kick his ass.” 

“Oh.” Eddie blinked, body going rigid. “Oh shit.” 

“That…would make sense. A lot of sense.” Jeff said slowly. 

Grant put on a face that read “Duh” loud and clear. 

“So what do we do about it?" Gareth asked after a moment. 

"Touch him, obviously." Grant replied, like he couldn't believe the drummer was even asking.

Gareth and Eddie shared a look while Eddie rolled his eyes.  

"The guy almost fell down the stairs last time I tried that." Gareth pointed out. 

Never mind any other time Steve got weird over the lightest of touches. Eddie couldn't even clap the guy on the shoulder without getting major side-eye. 

"No."  Eddie cut in, sitting up suddenly. His eyes had gone bright, "We're going to trick him into it." 

"We're going to trick Harrington into being okay with, what? Shoulder pats?"  Gareth echoed, like Eddie might hear himself if his words were repeated back to him. “You realize how stupid that sounds right?" 

"Shut up, listen. It's like getting a stray to trust you. You just gotta be calm and so obvious about it that they get confused and let it happen." Eddie had begun practically vibrating, causing his friends to trade uneasy glances. 

They knew that look. Eddie only got it when he thought up a plan that was going to cause problems. 

"Eddie, that makes zero sense." Jeff told him.

Gareth just shook his head, because only Eddie Munson could compare Hawkins golden boy with a fucking stray animal. 

Even if the guy kinda acted like one sometimes. 

"I just need an opening." Eddie continued, the little hamster wheel spinning in his head so fast the rest of the band could almost hear it. 

If Gareth had been told two months ago he was going to be sitting in his garage, discussing the best way to acclimate Steve Harrington to casual touch, he’d have actually smacked whatever idiot dared spew such nonsense with his drumsticks. 

"I did tell tell the kids today you were making him a D&D character." He said, before his best friend could truly go off on some half cocked plot. 

Eddie lit up like a kid on Christmas. "Gary, I could kiss you."

Gareth made a face. "Please don't."

He clapped hard before springing to his feet. "Huddle up boys, I've got a plan." 

"God help us all." Jeff muttered. 

(He huddled up anyway, any thoughts of playing guitar that night fully forgotten.) 

Bonus: 

"Why don't you just get high and watch a movie with Steve? You're a fucking cling-on when you're high." Gareth complained the next morning, when Eddie swung by to pick him up for school. 

Mostly because the plan Eddie had come up with was ridiculous.

 Eddie took both hands off the wheel, pressing them against his chest in mock offense while he stared at Gareth and not at the street. “That would be taking advantage of him and I, as a gentleman, would never." He gasped, dramatically. 

In his normal voice, he added: "Plus it doesn't count." 

“Eyes on the road!” Gareth yelped, swatting an arm. “And you know I didn’t mean it like that. People relax more when they're high and maybe Steve needs something like that as an excuse to allow it. Hell he doesn’t even need to be high, just you.”

Which Gareth personally thought was a very insightful thing to say, so of course he had to ruin it with; “or whatever.” 

"Do you recall how you kissed Jeff on the cheek when you were high and then spent the entire next month swearing up and down that you weren't attracted to men last summer?" 

"That was different. I was discovering myself." 

Eddie outright cackled. "Discovering yourself? What self help book did you pick that gem out of?"

"I was quoting you, you moron!" Gareth sputtered. 

"If I said anything like that then I was definitely high and it just proves my point. Steve would just be uncomfortable."Eddie stuck his tongue out. "So there." 

"Fine." Gareth sighed. "If we ever get high with Harrington, I'll sit in his lap."

Eddie's eye twitched. "No you will not."

Thrilled to have something to tease the elder metalhead about, a smile graced Gareth's face. "In fact, I'm calling dibs." 

"You can't call dibs on a lap! And besides, you don't even like him like that!" 

"So?" Gareth retorted. "It's a nice lap, looks comfortable. You don't want it, so I'll take it."

Eddie grit his teeth, grasping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles went white. 

"I know what you're doing Gary. This is some bullshit reverse psychology shit and I will not be falling for it." 

"Oh contraire, this is sibling bullshit, Munson. You want it, so I want it." Gareth crossed his arms and looked at Eddie smugly. "And unless you do something about it, I'm getting it." 

"I hate you." 

Gareth grinned, delighted. "I know." 

[funkytownwinchester]

Dean escapes his Djinn-cursed reality - Supernatural (S02E20)

[whumpypepsigal]

“Neither of us has ever been given the chance to choose anything.”

[whump-n-comfort]

two characters cuddling on the couch watching TV. despite the calmness of their surroundings, the show playing on the screen like normal as if nothing were wrong, they're both tense as brick walls. one is sick as a dog, wrapped in blankets, waiting for it to be over, and the other is worried out of their mind about how high that fever keeps getting, ready to load into the car and book it to the nearest hospital at the drop of a hat if need be. the tension only fades when the shivers of the ill one slowly die off, indicating the fever breaking after a hard battle won, the sickness finally leaving them so they can rest properly

[runby2]

hate : 1/1

[fan-dweeb]

When I say I want dabihawks whump, what I mean is I want Hawks to randomly FaceTime Dabi in the following scenario

Hawks: heyyyyyyyy Hot stuff

Dabi: Hawks???

Hawks: s-sorry. But I think- I think I might need some help

Dabi: Hawks??????

Hawks: ‘s jus’ a small scratch. But I can’t-

Dabi: Hawks??

Dabi: Hawks!

Dabi: Shit that’s a lot of blood

Dabi: You know bones are supposed to be inside your fucking body right?

Dabi: I’m on my way birdie, hang in there

[kittykatninja321]

Not to rehash this discourse so close to his birthday but genuinely what other mysterious unnamed trauma of Jason’s is Bruce referring to in bftc if not csa? We know that:

It’s something that happened to him

It’s something that happened to him pre-Bruce, so it presumably could’ve happened while he was an extremely vulnerable unsupervised homeless child

It’s something associated with secrecy and shame: Jason only told Bruce about it and freaks out about Dick playing his hologram talking about it

It’s something that affected him profoundly, Bruce says it left him “broken” (ugh side note: hate this language) and he seems to get retriggered by it being brought up again

What other trauma is coded like this besides sexual assault? Like genuinely I have yet to hear an answer that fits as well or better

[jasmines-library]

Hii! Sorry idk if your okay with this, if your not, feel free to ignore! <3

So I was wondering if you could do youngest batsib reader, who’s not really part of the family yet? Okay so, they’re a criminal like catwoman, they only steal from people who deserve it and just kind of a troublemaker around Gotham. They have electricity powers. They’re parents died at a young age and they ran away from the orphanage because they didn’t want to get adopted. They’re actually really smart, and know a lot of martial arts to help them get by. Anywaysss, I was wondering if during a place they were trying to rob, blow up for some reason. And it lead to them being knocked out and injured. Someone from the batfamily came across them and instead of turning them into the police, they take them to the batcave and patch em ip before putting them in a cell. They wake up and the batfam interrogates them, they find out they’re a kid and knows their secret identity (because he’s really smart) and after a bit, Bruce offers to take them in, and train them to be a vigilante. Reader is reluctant and doesn’t really trust them but they’re getting really tired of sleeping on the streets so they reluctantly says yes.

My Way Home Is Through You

Note: This was fun to write, thanks for the request anon!

Warnings: Minor undescribed injury, theft, none really, fluffy found family fic.

Word count: 1.7k

⛤ BATFAM MASTERLIST ⛤

You slunk along the sidewalks, clinging tightly to the walls as though a small child might do to their mother in a crowd of people. Hiding away in the shadows was nothing new to you, you had been a nobody for years. Constantly running, never settling in one place for too long before you were slinking off again and finding a new corner of Gotham to call your home for a few miserable days before the cycle started again. At first you had tried to cling onto the last shreds of your parents that you had left. You hung onto your name but soon that began to get you into trouble when the orphanages kept trying to pursue you and ‘bring you to a new and loving family’, so it was back to being just another face in the crowd. Just another ordinary kid trying to navigate their way through a big city.

Except…you were more than that. In your time alone you had discovered you had quite a knack for stealth. It started off when the nights became too cold and the growling in your stomach was so overbearing that it drowned out all other senses. You were still small, which you used strongly to your advantage, weaving in and out of the sea of faces before slipping small pieces of food under the hem of your raggedy sleeve that was far too long for you and dangled below your fingers. After that it soon became easy enough to steal other things. Just enough to get by. A ring here, a gold watch there. Small items from the cruel and the unworthy that you could pawn off for a little extra cash. 

There was something else about you though that helped out just a little bit. It was one of the reasons that you had spent so long trying to hide away. See, when you were young you discovered that there was something different about you. When you focused hard enough, you could feel the electricity channelling through your veins and sizzling at your fingertips. You learnt to manipulate it, to bend it to your will and it quickly became very useful when picking locks. You used it to fry them seamlessly before sneaking in and if worse came to worse, you could stun the police when they came thundering after you shouting profanities and threats and they ran, never to catch you with your nimbleness. They had tried to set the vigilantes on you more than once and you knew very well that their eyes were always on you, following your every move just waiting for the perfect moment to strike because you had seen them. Sometimes in the uniform. Sometimes not. As much as they tried to be they were much less subtle than they thought. 

When you reached the complex it was dark. All of the lamp posts nearby had flickered sporadically before burning out completely, so you hopped up the steps blindly before crouching down in front of the locks. You then outstretched your hand and took a deep breath, letting your body relax to feel the current dance in your veins and settle on your fingertips. You then directed the current towards the lock watching as it fried before swinging open. You darted in pushing it shut behind you and then set to work around the house. It was small and shabby with mould growing in some of the corners by the windows. It crawled up the walls, a darkened stain that emitted a putrid smell when you got a little too close. The floorboards cracked and groaned as you moved around the plot, weaving in and out of the furniture that had been strewn across the room. It was clear that someone had left in a hurry. You were shuffling around the unmade bed, reaching for the safe when you heard it. 

Tick. Tick. Ticktick. tickticktick.  

The sound was daunting, getting faster and faster as you scrambled to find the source, overturning chairs and throwing them to the floor as though they were nothing then tearing up floorboards. It was too late when you found it ticking away impendingly. The timer blinked by quickly as it neared zero and you were neft with no choice but to try and get as much distance between you and the weapon. The meagre metres you had out between yourself and the bomb hardly made any difference at all as it ignited flinging you across the room. Wood splintered around you as the concrete cracked and crumbled in heaps which you skidded to a halt on. You felt like you were going to hurl as your head thudded against the debris with a sickening crack that made your vision swam before all of the colours merged into one and you knew nothing more but a dark and heavy silence. 

~~~

“Move it! Go!” 

Nightwing shoved his little brother rather harshly in the shoulder to urge him forwards. Word had just reached them that a small house on the outskirts of the city had suddenly exploded and the number of casualties was currently unknown. Dick always seemed to get a sudden adrenaline rush whenever an emergency came in and not matter how fast he moved he always felt as though he could never get there fast enough even if he was hurtling through the city at an alarming speed. 

He had to swallow back his alarm when they skidded to a halt at the scene. There was nothing really left of the building besides a few odd shaped pillars of concrete and pipes that were strong enough to survive the blast. The rest of the building was a dismal load of ash and dust that rose in ribbons as the wind lifted up the pieces that were small enough and carried them away into a cloud of sky.

Nightwing pushed his way through the crowd that had gathered and ducked under the police tape despite their protests. His heart nearly stopped when he inched his way around what used to be a bed but was now a cluster of broken timber buried under a pile of rubble because he spotted your figure sprawled out across the floor. He skidded to the ground and began to pull the pieces of clutter away from you, grimacing at the sight of the blood that came away on his fingers.

Red Hood dropped down beside him just as Dick Grayson brushed some of the dust from your face and sudden recognition washed over him.

“Hood.” He said over his shoulder. “I think you better call B.”

~~~

Your head felt like it was going to explode when you woke up and there was a stabbing pain in your side but when you moved your hand to slide the hem of your stop up you were cut short by a metal handcuff securing you to the wall next to the bed you had been placed in. Shuffling around awkwardly you managed to push yourself up into a sitting position to gauge your surroundings better. The cell you were in although small was rather well lit and surprisingly homely. Too bad you had no intention in staying. You had planned to use your powers to fry the handcuff, but when you tried to summon the electricity you were left high and dry when nothing happened. 

“That’s not going to work.” A figure you hadn’t noticed in the corner of the room told you when you began to try again. 

Frowning at him, he folded his arms and leaned against the wall. “Power suppressing cuffs.”

Rolling your eyes you slumped defeatedly. You should have figured as much. 

“What were you doing in there?” He asked, narrowing his eyes at you from behind his infamous cowl. 

“That’s none of your business.”

“I think it is, kid.”

You turned your gaze away from him and picked at the skin around your thumb. “It’s not that I wanted to be in there. It’s what I had to do.”

The vigilante stepped forwards and took a seat next to you. “Go on.”

“I needed the money. I can’t go to anyone so I have no choice but to find my own way around problems. I was gonna pawn the jewellery off. And besides it’s not like the guy owned it in the first place. He was the one that stole it from the jewellers last week.”

“How’d you know that?” Batman frowned. That information had only been revealed recently.

“I get around a lot.”

He pursed his lips. “What else do you know?”

You could have grinned like the cheshire cat right there and then as you began to list things you had learnt. 

“I know that you still haven’t caught that guy who escaped from Arkham last month. I know that you’ve all been watching me. Oh and I know that you are Bruce Wayne.”

The man faltered. “What? How?”

“You’re less subtle than you think.”

“Or maybe you’re smarter than you think. What d’you say your name is kid?”

“I didn’t.”

He sighed, watching you in silence until you eventually gave him your name. 

“You’re something, Kid. I’ll give you that much.”

“Thank you…?”

“How would you like to stay? We would train you to become a vigilante like us.” The question was so sudden that it made your head spin.

“I can’t ask that of you.” You told him. It was more of an excuse really. You weren’t sure if you could trust him or not.”

“You’re not. I’m offering. A warm place to stay, a family to care for you.”

A smile twinged at the corner of your lips. That was something you had longed for for so long but had never seen that it had slipped to the back of your mind forgotten. 

“So, what do you say, Y/N?”

“I think I would like that.”

[just-whump-and-suffering]

Power Rangers Dino Force Brave

[aethermint]

So did the fanfic writers and duffer brothers just forget about the severe injuries on Steve's arms and back or??? Like no way can he just soccer mom that shit 2 days later.

[kybercrystals94]

As It Happened

Read here on Ao3!

Whumptober 2024 - Day 28 - Prompts: Denial // CCTV

Rated: G | Words: 798

“Do you think Hunter’s going to be mad?” 

“Why would he be mad? He’s coming to bail us out of holding. I’m sure that this is at the top of his bucket list, right next to having a migraine.” 

“Your sarcasm is not helpful.”

“Wrecker asking dumb questions isn’t helpful.”

Echo stops pacing the cell to loom over the three commandos sitting on the narrow bench. “None of you are being helpful,” he tells them. “None of you have been helpful all night!” 

“Are you implying that this is our fault?” Tech asks, adjusting his goggles and glaring up at Echo through the tinted lens. “Because if my memory serves correctly, and it does, it was you that escalated the situation exponentially.” 

“That’s what I remember too,” Crosshair says, smirking. 

Wrecker nods. “Me too.” 

Echo gapes at them. “Oh, no. You are not telling Hunter that this is my fault.” 

“And you are not telling Hunter that it was ours,” Tech says primly, crossing his arms. 

“Well, it’s somebody’s fault,” Echo declares. “And I know for a fact it wasn’t mine.” 

“Maybe it was none of our faults,” Wrecker suggests. 

“Because that’s believable.”

Wrecker frowns. “Why does everything have to be our fault? Why can’t we ever just be in the wrong place at the wrong time?”

Crosshair scoffs, “Have you met us? No one’s going to believe that kark.” 

“Your black eye certainly does not help matters,” Tech agrees. 

“Oh, and your split lip does?” Crosshair shoots back. 

Echo groans. “Okay, enough. We need to come up with a cohesive explanation for what happened.” 

“But we don’t even know what happened!” Wrecker cries. “Not really.”

“I know what happened,” Tech says. 

“I am not taking the fall!” Echo reiterates. “Stop trying to throw me under the speeder.” 

“Why not? Hunter won’t be as mad at you.” Wrecker picks at the dried blood on his knuckles. “This is only the first time you’ve been arrested for anything.” 

“The worst you’ll get is the look,” Crosshair says. 

Tech adds, “And a heavy sigh.” 

“Oh, wow, how benevolent of you,” Echo retorts, crossing his arms. A beat of silence. “Wait. How many times have you been arrested?” 

“Irrelevant,” Tech says. “Although I am merely guilty by association on all occasions.” 

Crosshair and Wrecker sputter protests in unison, a mixture of, “You are such a kriffing liar,” and “That ain’t even close to true!” 

“Forget I asked,” Echo groans. 

**

“Seems it was a misunderstanding,” the officer says after reviewing the footage with Hunter. “Your guys weren’t at fault.” 

“That woulda been good of you to figure out before I came all the way down here,” Hunter says. 

The officer shifts uncomfortably from one boot to the other. “Yes, sir, apologies for the inconvenience. I’ll go get your boys out of lockup right now.” 

Hunter smiles at him with a show of teeth that is anything but friendly. “I’d appreciate it.” 

The officer disappears, and Hunter takes a steadying breath and closes his eyes. His head is killing him, and he’d gotten the call about his idiot brothers right after he’d finally managed to doze off. They might not be at fault, but they always seemed to be in the middle of trouble. Naively, he’d thought that Echo would be a voice of reason during their shore leave while Hunter was incapacitated. 

He hears his brothers coming from the back of the station before he sees them, their rowdy voices already aggravating his migraine from afar. When they come through the door, they all go quiet, watching him watching them. He can tell they are trying to decipher to what degree he is upset with them. He gives them a look. “Fun night?” he asks. 

They exchange glances. 

“Not particularly,” Tech admits. 

“It wasn’t our fault, boss,” Wrecker pleads. 

Hunter sighs. “Alright, c’mon,” he grumbles, turning to lead the way out. Once they’ve reached the street, he checks his chrono. “Night cycle’s still young. Get out of here. But if I get another call from the station, I’m leaving you there to rot until morning, got it? I don’t care who’s fault it was.” 

The four looks of utter surprise he receives almost makes the trip down worth it. 

“Really, sir?” Echo asks. “You’re not angry?” 

“Oh, I’m angry,” Hunter corrects him. “Just not at any of you…yet. Please don’t make me regret this.” 

His brothers don’t wait for him to change his mind.

Even after they disappear from sight, his senses follow their distinct, excited voices amongst the noise of the streets a moment longer. Part of him wishes he could join them, but mostly, he looks forward to a few more hours of having the Marauder quietly to himself. 

And he trusts they’ll at least try to behave themselves.

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[queenie-ofthe-void]

A Desperate Fool - Part 3

Part 2

The comfort is here! This is just a morsel of the Nancy chapter, which means even MORE comfort with a pinch of angst.

~~~

It took a few weeks after Max and Lucas’s surprise visit for Eddie to work up enough courage to fly to Boston to knock on his sister's door-- technically sister from another mister, but he doesn't think that matters much.

Nancy's always believed in him, encouraged him to follow his passions no matter where it took him. Because even if you try and fail, Eddie, then at least you tried, and she’d always be there to catch him. In this case, maybe his passions took him a little too far.

It’s been almost eight months since they’ve talked, and he’s worried she won’t be there this time. Nancy is the fiercest person he knows, ready to stand up for what’s right regardless of the consequences. Hell, it’s what made her such a successful journalist. 

Which is why he’s worried he’ll buckle under the same scrutiny. This isn't a little mistake she can lecture away. Eddie has well and truly fucked up. If he could barely get through conversations with Robin and Max and Lucas, he has no idea how to navigate a conversation with Nancy Wheeler when she wants answers.

Before he can chicken out, the door’s ripped open by the woman herself. She’s different than he remembers. Her hair’s grown out, long and straight without her signature perm. The light pink pajama pants and matching pink slippers soften her edges. She looks good, aside from the bloodshot eyes.

This counts the fourth time Eddie’s ever seen Nancy cry: her freshman year when their cat died, a particularly nasty blow out between her and Mike before she moved for college, and two years ago when Jonathan finally proposed– happy tears, thankfully.

Now she’s standing here, staring at him through red-rimmed eyes and drowning in an oversized Corroded Coffin crewneck. He’s absolutely gutted at the sight. Only the fourth time she’s ever cried, and it’s his fault.

Another hard reminder of his many mistakes.

“Nance, please, can we talk?” He doesn’t know what to say that’ll fix it, but he has to try, she’s too important not to.

She suddenly throws herself at him, practically choking him with the grip of her arms around his neck, and for a moment he thinks she’s about to fight him. But her hand’s cradling the back of his head, and her other’s fisted in the back of his jacket. 

Nancy clings to him and shoves her nose into the crook of his neck. He wraps her up in a fierce hug in return, holding her as she shakes against him.

“Edward James Munson,” she says, forcing the words out around the tears, “I am so, so fucking mad at you.” Nancy lets go of his shirt just to emphasize her point by socking him in the shoulder. Only to grab at him again, like he’ll disappear if she lets go.

“I know, Nancy. I’m sorry.”

She coughs, and Eddie can feel where her tears have soaked his hair through, sticking it uncomfortably to his neck. “I missed you so much.”

He lets out a ragged sigh of relief. She still loves him, even after everything he’s done. Nancy Wheeler is too good for him– the whole world, really– but especially him. He doesn’t deserve someone like her, a sister like her, but he’s also selfish. So he holds onto her tighter, hoping that when he lets go she doesn’t change her mind

She leans out of his grasp to look him in the eye. He doesn’t know what she finds, but Nancy eyes are soft around the edges, filled with love, and she shoves his shoulder again. Not hard though, so she laughs when he dramatically falls backwards clutching his afflicted arm to his chest. He moans and groans, bottom lip jutted out in a firm pout as he bats his eyes at her, waiting for an apology.

“You’re such an asshole,” she says, but she’s smiling at him now and holding out her hand to help him up. He takes it, of course he does. Eddie relaxes, knowing that even though it's his fault she's cried, Nancy Wheeler will always be there to catch him whem he falls- metaphorically at least.

~~~

Part 4

[geevesthevieve]

Deleted scene/alternate opening from "Back to Back" ch. 2

The times when his brain betrayed him by flinging him back into that hell begotten warehouse were always at the worst possible moments.  

It started with him removing his helmet, which was also horrid timing. The filters had a nasty habit of clogging if not regularly cleaned out, which caused the thing to overheat. He’d been sweating as the stuffy air practically had him choking for the past ten minutes. So he’d taken the first opportunity he could and unfastened it, tucked it under his arm, and took clear, blessed breaths… Or as clear as one could at an old, musty factory left to decay with the useless ‘Keep Out’ signs doing nothing for the homeless and the addicts just trying to stay out of the cold or get their fix in peace. Clearing them out while they’d been doing a sweep for the latest wannabe supervillain’s traps that she’d left around this side of town had taken way too long and now Jason just really wanted a cigarette.

Then he heard the beeping. 

Maybe it was the tone or maybe it was how it started soft and got louder and faster with each tick. But Jason’s heart-rate followed suit, ratcheting up.

His vision darkened around the edges and the crumbling plaster and chipped stone became desiccated wood where he was barely managing to drag his mangled body across the floor, his shattered bones shifting as they scraped along the warped, splintered surface. Every fiber of him screamed. His mouth filled with the coppery tang of blood, shaping around nonsensical words that had probably been some pointless desperate plea to anyone that might be around to find him. 

The only reply he got was the ever increasing beeps.

“Hood! Get down!”

Louder and louder, high pitched, grating down on his ears. More insistent like it wasn't the only thing pulsating through Jason at that very moment…well, there was always the laughter. The maniacal laughter and the thud of metal against his ribs. 

It was going to stop soon and then the burning would envelop him. Blisters would form and burst in a matter of milliseconds. His eyes would melt and the world would go dark, but the lightless fire would continue to devour him. It would be fast, but it would take eons. 

“Jason!”

Then he’d be gone again.

Something hard slammed into his side, knocking him behind a pillar, right as the last beep sounded, and the blue and black figure that had shoved him to the ground blew past him as the bomb exploded.

It was bright and hot just like before, and then there was nothing.

Nothing.

Then… 

Ringing.

Piercing ringing replaced everything else, rattling against his skull, making him tremble. Jason blinked hard and coughed as more dust and smoke filled his lungs. He waved his arms in front of him and rammed his elbow into something hard, sending a tingling shockwave through it. He cursed, but his tongue tasted like chalk and dirt. He also was aware that he hadn’t even heard his voice when he’d spoken. 

Pushing past the raucous coughs, and spatting out the powdery taste in his mouth, he managed to somewhat settle the hard thrumming battering against his chest. The constant chiming continued going strong against his eardrums. He clapped his hands over the sides of his head and waited until other sounds started to wash the ringing further back. Then he opened his eyes again, letting them adjust to the new darkness. He squinted around for his helmet, but it was nowhere within his current view. There were only fallen columns and the crushed rusted machinery from whatever had used to be assembled here. 

Jason slowly eased himself up, dodging around the cracked pillar he’d been sheltered by, and gasped as a sharp pain shot up through his abdomen, along with a harsh creaking from his ribcage. His clanging head pounded, and the air hit an open wound at his scalp. He brushed his fingers along it and stared blankly at his bloodied hand when he brought it back around.  

He’d just had to take his helmet off.

Blinking hard, he again tried to do a scan for it in the rubble. It had his comms in it. He hated the little earpieces that went directly in his ear, but he was regretting not having one as a back-up. He needed to let the others know what had happened. Most of the bats were on the other side of the city. It had just been him and—

An icy wave poured down Jason’s back.

“Oh, shit.” He stumbled. He wasn’t sure if it was over some debris or just from his still spinning head. He just managed to catch himself on an overturned conveyor-belt—or what once might have been a conveyor-belt. He barely took the moment to clear the lingering vertigo that had his stomach flipping over too. Bracing himself on his elbows, his eyes raked over the landfill of a factory with much more fervor, the cold flooding through his veins with the force of a burst dam. “Dick!” He yelled out into the dark—screwing protocol. 

There was no reply.

Jason's heart thudded loud again, warring against the remnant ringing. There was enough awareness in him to recall his brother slamming into him. Dick might have actually been speaking to him before that, probably shouting at him to move or something before he’d jumped into action. A blur of the Nightwing suit being flung away seared across Jason’s mind’s eye.

“Dammit.” His chest rose and fell too rapidly. “Dammit!” Shoving himself off the conveyor-belt, he staggered over in the direction he thought he’d seen Dick fly.

---------------------------------

---This is just what the title says. It's from my fic "Back to Back". This was initially how I'd started the second chapter, but I realized it wasn't paralleling the first chapter like it was supposed to. So I scrapped most of it an kept some of the pieces. It's not much different. I just sort of skip this part and summarize it in the actual fic 😁 But I was going through a few things, while working on a few other new fics (I really hope to be able to post soon) and found this. So... figured I'd post it for fun!---