#half an hospital

[albonium]

17 days worth of clothes for temperatures from 0 to 30°C 🤪

[lanavecorona]

today i offer you tmnt art. tomorrow???? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[bluerosefox]

Drake Siblings

Have I read this prompt somewhere or was this a fever dream from my bored mind.

What if, now hear me out.

What if we bring up Dana Winters-Drake (whose confirmed to at least be alive in the DC verse but no one knows where she actually is)

What if instead of when she had a mental breakdown and getting committed to an Bludhaven clinc she wandered away before anyone noticed and by the time Tim or anyone did notice a lot of stuff started happening at once in both Gotham and Bludhaven (Steph dying, The Bludhaven crisis, etc etc)

Tim still tries to find her though but even with best resources it was like she just disappeared into the wilderness and the stress of trying to handle more and more problems get worse.

So when out of the blue, a couple of years later, he gets a call from an unknown number. On his private, only for friends and family, phone and when he answers he meet with a young girls voice on the other end.

A very young, maybe six or seven, girl who informs him about his apparently half-brother Danny Drake-Fenton. And how she loves Danny so, so, so much but knows her home is dangerous for him to be in.

Tim is stunned and before he could question her, she says Danny is Dana and Jack's baby and that her parents had adopted him years ago and put Dana's stuff that the hospital had away for him to look at when he was older but she just had to fight off their lunch from eating her brother and she knows he needs a better place to live and so she snooped around and found Dana's diary and that she had to unscramble the nonsense Dana wrote and found Tim's number with the words 'tell him about his brother Danny' hidden in it. And-

But before she could keep rambling she hears Danny screaming "JAZZY THE MILK WENT BAD AGAIN AND HISSED AT ME!"

Tim is left with silence after hearing Jazz yell to Danny to lock the fridge and step out of the kitchen as she gets the bat.

[blessyouhawkeye]

hey guys. getting real concerned buck is going to get shot this season. we got the well redux this episode, next episode we're getting lightning strike redux. there's only one other big buckandeddie disaster missing. and they've already started reestablishing eddie's capability as a field medic. therefore: buck should start wearing a bulletproof vest

[lunacias]

(Silence. CARPENTER tries to rally HAYWARD's spirits. She's afraid she's going to lose him.)

"All three of us - we can all go on living, Hayward. Just like you said."

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 198

Now Bruce was not expecting to reincarnate upon his death. At least he thinks he died, he’s pretty sure he did. There wasn’t any other reason for him to be a well, literal baby. Around two he thinks, which fits well with the fact that it’s around that time that babies start forming memory recall, if he, well, remembered correctly. 

But while he knew about reincarnation thanks to Shayera and Carter, he’d never exactly given it much thought towards himself. Because seriously, what were the chances of such a thing as him being given another chance? 

So he was quite surprised at his situation, experimentally opening and closing pudgy hands that looked well, just a tiny bit off. He’d never been that pale before, he thinks, even back when he never went outside like, ever. 

He turned his gaze towards the mobile above him with a sort of idle curiosity- a mixture of bats (ha) and other trinkets he wasn’t familiar with. It also caused him to get his first good look at his parent, asleep on a rocking chair right next to the crib. 

Huh. They had the same pale skin he did, albeit in the light it looked like it was slightly tinted blue, and while their hair was white they didn’t exactly look old. They looked surprisingly well rested for raising a toddler too, unless they had a nanny or something similar… He rolled over, managing to very shakily push himself to his feet with the help of the crib. 

Why was standing so hard as a toddler? And why did he have his memories of everything except how he had died anyway? 

His head whipped up from where they were staring at his feet when he heard a snort, finding his parent awake and standing. Somehow silently enough that he hadn’t noticed- or he was that easily distracted by the unfamiliar giddiness bursting in his chest. 

“Morning little bat,” his parent easily picked him up and held him while he inwardly sighed at the nickname. Of course his bat motif would follow him into this life. A low rumbling almost caused him to jump, his body relaxing before he could fully register the sound. The… purring? 

Oh. 

He wasn’t human this time around. 

[baby-xemnas]

tbh its great that bepo is a bear because we can get PDA like this

and noone bats an eye

this could never happen with a pair of human characters. let alone pair of male human characters.

[sollucets]

— evening sun, jane kenyon

as long as he lives one day, I'll live that day with him.

[heich0e]

au in which touya ends up having to watch natsuo put his hands all over you because you took something offered to you at a sketchy warehouse party that has you panting and whimpering and burning up and his own hot hands can't provide you any comfort but his little brother's cool-quirked touch can

[cometcare]

" BUT I'M STILL HOT LIKE HALLEY'S COMET !! "

[redstainedsocks]

I gotta tell you... Being hooked up to a bunch of machinery and being gently strapped to a table (for safety) is low-key unsettling even when the people doing it are nice and explaining exactly what's going to happen, when, and why.

Without being spoken to? While being forced? With no information? In a strange place? Surrounded by enemies or hostile people?

That shit would be frightening as fuck. The lack of control. The lack of answers. Feeling less important, less human, than everyone else in the room.

So do that to your characters. If you're into medical/lab whump you're hitting all the right notes with this trope. So go HAM. Do it MORE. It's perfect.

[pharawee]

Maybe you need to sleep longer and deeper, so you can see more details of your dream. You're the one who told me that this dream isn't like the others.

—I SAW YOU IN MY DREAM · Episode 11

[restlesschilled]

“But consciousness had gone slippery. Someone had oiled it up on me and whenever I reached out for it, it slid out through my grasping hands and plunged me back down into the dark.”

[nat-1-whump]

Whumpee was a capable magic user, having cultivated that skill their whole life. So, naturally, they took liberty in exercising it every change they got. From teleporting rather than traveling, to using telekinesis to carry heavy things, to using illusion spells to pull lighthearted tricks... it was a wonder they ever had any energy left to cast more spells at all.

However, they were injured and had to be hospitalized. The doctors put them on magic suppressants, warning them that using magic could be unpredictable, or even dangerous, in their vulnerable condition. It was safest to take their powers away for the time being.

Whumpee did not take this news well.

One evening, Caretaker went to visit Whumpee. Whumpee had seemed particularly upset with their loss of magic last time Caretaker visited, so this time, they brought them a stuffed animal. Hopefully it would comfort them, at least a little bit, as they recovered.

They expected to find Whumpee frustratedly picking at their bandages, or in a restless sleep, as usual. But when they opened the door, they found Whumpee knelt down on the floor, sobbing over a shattered mug.

Caretaker hurried to set the plushie on the bed. They crouched down next to Whumpee, and put a hand on their shoulder. "Hey, it's alright. I'll help you clean it up, and we can get you a new mug, okay?"

Whumpee sniffled. "I-I can't even fix a stupid cup..." They cried.

Caretaker instinctively glanced towards Whumpee's hands, worried that they'd cut themself trying to pick up the pieces. They were initially relieved to see that Whumpee hadn't, until they realized that Whumpee must have tried---and failed---to use a mending spell instead. That must be why they were crying now. "...Fix it? Whumpee, no... You can't. Not right now. Look, I'll go get a broom to clean up the pieces, and-"

"No, I want to do this..." Whumpee looked up at Caretaker, their eyes reddened and tearful.

"Whumpee, you can't, remember? They-the doctors, they put you on magic suppressants until you get better." Caretaker wasn't a magic user themself, so they wondered what it was like to lose magic powers after using them for so long. They figured it probably threw poor Whumpee's system all out of whack.

Whumpee considered for a moment. They looked at the broken mug, then back at Caretaker. "Wait, I think... I think I can force a tiny bit, just a little..."

"What do you mean, 'force?' Whumpee, I really don't think that's a good idea." Caretaker tried to take Whumpee's hands in their own, but Whumpee pulled away, focused on the broken mug.

Whumpee picked up a few pieces. They ignored Caretaker's protests and closed their eyes, chanting a mending spell under their breath. Their brow furrowed, as they seemed to strengthen their resolve to cast the spell.

To Caretaker's disbelief, a faint light began to flicker from Whumpee's palms, the glow peeking out from under the ceramic shards. A couple of pieces began to shudder, clinking as they seemed to gravitate towards each other.

Suddenly, the pieces went still. They clattered to the floor as Whumpee's arms fell limp. Like a reflex, Caretaker grabbed Whumpee and pulled them into an embrace before they could collapse into the pile of sharp pieces. The ceramic shards glittered in the light from the window, as if to taunt them.

"Whumpee!" Caretaker felt a warm trickle against their chest, and gently turned Whumpee's head up to see a stream of blood coming from their nose. They shakily pulled Whumpee up and took them back to their hospital bed, struggling to carry their limp body. After draping Whumpee over the blankets, they found a paper towel and began to clean the blood off their face.

Whumpee's eyes fluttered open as Caretaker wiped their bloody nose. "D-did I do it?" Their voice sounded distant and groggy.

Caretaker's heart broke. Whumpee sounded so hopeful. "No, Whumpee. Your cup's still broken. But you have to rest, okay?" They instinctively put a hand on Whumpee's chest to push them down, fully expecting Whumpee to try to pull themself out of bed.

Instead, Whumpee only stared up at them, defeated. Caretaker noticed the dark circles under Whumpee's eyes and was about to ask when they last slept, when Whumpee's gaze wandered past Caretaker to the floor.

Caretaker followed their eyes to where the fragments of ceramic seemed to glow in the fading sunlight. They felt they should leave Whumpee's side to clean it up, but now, such an action felt too... final. They figured it would only make Whumpee feel worse, watching the pieces they tried so hard to fix get swept up and dumped in the trash.

A sniffle from Whumpee pulled Caretaker back to the moment. They looked down to see Whumpee's eyes well up with tears. Wordlessly, they squeezed Whumpee's hand.

Whumpee pulled their hand away and curled themself up on the bed, hiding their face behind their knees. Their sniffling turned to full-on sobbing.

Caretaker gently stroked Whumpee's hair, trying to find the right words. "Whumpee... You need to rest. Nobody is expecting you to start casting spells again so soon. Not after all that happened."

Whumpee peeked over their knees. "It hurts. It feels like they took something out of me and it messed everything up."

"I know... But you'll feel better once you sleep, yeah? And the more you rest, the sooner you'll be recovered enough to handle your magic again." Caretaker pulled the blankets up to Whumpee's shoulder and handed them the plush toy they'd brought earlier.

Whumpee moved their legs away from their chest, exposing their face as they clutched the stuffed animal. Their momentary comfort gave way to worry. "What if I forget how to use magic while I'm in here, though? W-what if I'm never able to use magic again?" Their lip started to quiver.

Caretaker gave Whumpee a warm smile, though their eyes held a look of pity. "I'm not sure, Whumpee. I don't know a whole lot about magic... How it works, what it takes to learn it." They patted Whumpee's shoulder. "But whatever happens, I'll stay by your side every step of the way. I'll promise you that much."

A small smile formed on Whumpee's face. Though they still seemed worried, Caretaker's reassurance calmed their nerves somewhat. They closed their eyes, squeezing the stuffed animal against their chest.

The two rested quietly in the hospital room, the shadows stretching higher up the wall until the orange sunset outside had darkened to a rich purple. Once Whumpee dozed off, Caretaker swept up the broken pieces. They sat down next to Whumpee again and gently placed a hand on their cheek.

Whumpee mumbled contentedly. For the first time in a while, their sleep seemed... peaceful.

[jtl-fics]

Fluent Freshman - Part 22

PREVIOUS

Y’know how sometimes you have something that you need to do or something that you know is going to happen but you just keep…putting it off? Like you know at some point it is going to happen but you put it off over and over and over and over again? You’re getting increasingly anxious every time you put it off because you know it has to get done but you also know that the longer you wait the worse it is going to get. Finally, FINALLY, the anxiety is just a little too much and you end up having to deal with it.

You finally deal with it and the whole ordeal takes maybe five minutes tops and it was in no way shape or form worth the level of anxiety that you put yourself through. Like you worried about this for a good and long while and it wasn’t even that bad?

That is currently how FF feels about being stabbed by Andrew Minyard.

This is what he was so worried about that he had lost sleep, had nightmares, had lost weight, and had exacerbated his stress ulcers over.

Getting stabbed wasn’t anywhere near as bad as he had thought it was going to be. Maybe it was the fact that it was just a single stab wound instead of the Psycho levels that he had been imagining (Wow, showers were going to be so much less stressful now that he didn’t have to confirm Andrew Minyard’s location before triple checking the lock). Maybe it was the fact that he is PUMPED full of adrenaline from his fights against Jackson and Romero but the stab wound didn’t even really hurt at the moment.

This isn’t even the worse thing that had happened to him this year!

That honor still goes to the joint winners of when his Step Family and mother found out that he had a full-ride to Palmetto and when he had tripped up the same step on the stairs at school three times in a row as people watched and laughed.

(Maybe also the solitary congratulations from his Grandma in regards to his graduation but FF doesn’t let himself think about that, won’t think about it.)

He wouldn’t necessarily call being in a state of ‘stabbed’ a pleasant time but Andrew was being so NICE about it.

“Stop trying to sit up you fucking idiot!” Andrew shouts at him.

Well….Andrew’s version of nice.

(This is the same version of nice that he had misunderstood for months at this point. Maybe FF is just enough in shock from the stab wound in his stomach that he’s starting to grasp the basics in the difficult language of Andrew Minyard’s niceness.)

Andrew had gotten off the phone with 911 and then started pulling off his own jacket before draping it over FF’s upper body, wedging his phone between his shoulder and his ear, and then Andrew started to apply pressure to his stomach wound.

Ow.

That is not a great feeling. This stabbing may eke out past the great triple trip of March 2010.

“No, take back your jacket. You’ll get cold if you don’t have it on.” FF argues because his own jacket is barely doing the job. Maybe it’s the cold pavement of the alley, maybe it’s the blood loss, or maybe it’s the cooling sweat he’d worked up but he is shivering pretty badly.

A thought occurs to him as he feels the weird wet stickiness of his own blood sticking to Nicky’s shirt. “Can you help me get my jacket off?” He asks looking pleadingly at Andrew, “It’s my dad’s. I don’t wanna mess it up with my blood.” He clarifies when Andrew looks at him like he’s a lunatic.

Except his second call must connect right then because Andrew’s answer is non-sensical to what FF had asked, “Neil, let Roland know the police and ambulances are en route.” There’s a brief pause and the pressure against his stomach increases as a muscle in Andrew’s jaw jumps. “Smith got stabbed.” He says and he looks angry, angrier than FF had ever seen Andrew when he’s talking to Captain Neil. There is another pause, more than likely Neil saying something or asking a question, “No, it wasn’t them.” Andrew grits out and the pressure on FF’s stomach hurts, “Just get out here, I need help with smith and making sure these two assholes don’t go anywhere before the police come and grab them.” He says before he pulls one hand away from Smith’s stomach (wow he really is bleeding isn’t he?) to hang up the phone.

Andrew’s gaze turns back to him fully, “You’re not moving an inch Smith, your jacket can be cleaned.” He hisses. “Now stay still and don’t fall asleep.” He orders.

Andrew seems stressed so FF complies. He can’t help but notice how Andrew’s hands seem to be shaking as the press down on his stomach. He kind of wishes he had a pillow or something for his head because he’s starting to feel a little dizzy. Andrew’s jacket would be safer from his blood if it was a pillow instead of a blanket. Still, FF would sooner die than spit on any of Andrew’s current efforts to make him more comfortable.

He looks at the knife sticking out of his stomach. Well, he might die regardless of whether or not he spits on Andrew’s efforts.

He needs to take his mind off this.

“Should we take it out and pretend the Dundee knife stabbed me instead??” FF asks letting his mind go to the first thought in his head so that he could be distracted from his own mortality. “I think it’s still under the dumpster over there.” He moves to point one of his hands towards where the knife had remained throughout this entire ordeal.

Andrew’s knee pinned his arm before he could move it, “Stop moving Smith.” Andrew reminded him before moving his knee. “We have to leave the knife in. You’ll bleed to death otherwise.” Andrew reminds.

“I guess that’s true, so do we just say that Romero got a handle on your knife and stabbed me?” He asks fighting his own shivers since he’s a little worried that any shaking on his part would just make the stab wound worse.

“I stabbed you Smith.” Andrew says looking at him with a furrowed brow.

“Yeah, I know,” FF agrees, “but we’re not going to say THAT to the cops.” He says and shock really is one HELL of a drug because he thinks he might have actually given Andrew Minyard an incredulous look with his atrophied face muscles. It’s either Shock or the knowledge that even if he irritates Andrew, what’s Andrew going to do about it?

STAB HIM?

“You’re going to lie to the cops?” Andrew asks, “I STABBED you Smith.” Andrew repeats.

“Yeah, I know!” FF repeats back, “You stabbed me on ACCIDENT.” FF makes sure to use the same intonation that Andrew had used to emphasize the word Stabbed. “Jackson wanted to stab me on PURPOSE. You saw that knife Andrew.” He tries to gesture towards the knife again but again Andrew’s knee pinned his hand.

He could use his other one but the reminder to stay still is enough.

“I still stabbed you.” Andrew says removing his knee again when it’s clear that FF wasn’t going to try and gesture again.

“Well, if I was going to get stabbed by anyone, I guess I’m glad my first time was with you.” Andrew let’s out a bark of a laugh that sounds more like it was punched out of him than anything, “Honestly, I don’t think Jackson would have given me his jacket afterwards or try and help me keep my blood in my body.” He says and it feels like a victory (not a both hands in the air victory cry level victory but it was close) when Andrew’s face settled into one of faint amusement.

“Probably not.” Andrew agreed, “He doesn’t seem big on Aftercare.” He says.

FF doesn’t know what that means but nods like he does, “So, Romero got a hold of your knife during our tussle and he’s the one who stabbed me. Okay? That’s the story I’m going to stick with no matter who asks me.” He looks Andrew in the eye.

“Alright Smith,” one of Andrew’s hands leaves his stomach and clasps around his shoulder and FF can’t help but notice how neither of Andrew’s hands are shaking anymore. “We can lie to the police.” He squeezes FF’s shoulder.

“Nice.” He says and lets his head fall back onto the concrete. He hears a siren in the distance and hopes it’s coming for him.

They sit in silence for maybe 30 seconds before the door slams open and only Andrew’s hands on his stomach and shoulder keep him from shooting straight up in a panic. Captain Neil seemed to take in the scene at lightning speed but it was Andrew who spoke first, “You left Aaron and Nicky with Roland?” He asks.

“Yeah I did,” Captain Neil confirms and FF can see the moment that his eyes land on the knife handle jutting out of FF’s stomach, “Andrew, what are we going to tell the police?” Captain Neil asks and FF could already see Neil crafting a lie to cover Andrew. That’s one of the things that FF likes about Captain Neil and Andrew’s relationship. He thinks it’s nice that both of them have someone who no matter the circumstances would be there with a shovel to help bury a body. He even thought it was nice when he thought it’d be his body!

“The second guy stabbed me.” The lie comes out smoothly which is good because he is planning on committing to it and Captain Neil blinks and looks at him, “He got hold of Andrew’s knife during the tussle.” He adds.

Captain Neil looks to Andrew, “You said it wasn’t-“

“I guess Smith can lie to a liar.” Andrew interrupts.

Captain Neil’s eyes widen before a wicked grin spread across his face that made FF just a little uncomfortable but only because Andrew’s grip on his shoulder suddenly tightened and his nostrils flared the way they did before the two usually started speaking in Russian.

He can handle being stabbed, he cannot handle being in shock and pretending that he doesn’t know what the two of them are saying to one another.

“Can you tell Nicky I’m sorry I got blood on his clothes?” He asks and both Captain Neil and Andrew’s gaze snap away from eye-fucking each other. He looks down and the clothes are black and they haven’t moved the knife so the wound is plugged still but yeah there’s definitely blood seeping into the shirt, not to mention the hole. “Could you tell him I’m sorry about that?” He asks.

“You are going to tell him yourself Smith.” Andrew hisses, “You are going to be fine. Do you understand me?” He asks before turning to Neil, “Can you bunch your jacket under his legs, it’s better to keep them higher than his head and heart?” He asks.

Aw.

Andrew is just so nice.

He can’t BELIEVE he thought Andrew wanted to hunt him for sport.

He’d apologize for thinking that but he thinks it’d be better to just let that particular misunderstanding go unmentioned.

Captain Neil bunches his jacket up and puts it under FF’s legs before he goes over to check on Romero and Jackson. In the corner of his eye he sees Captain Neil pause at the sight of Romero before moving over to Jackson.

“Why is he in these?!” Neil asks baffled.

“It’s a weird sex alley Captain Neil! I don’t know WHAT to tell you!” Yeah he’s definitely going into shock. The sirens are getting closer though so he’ll probably be okay.

***

The cops all have a bit of a laugh about Jackson’s cuffs until Neil tells them exactly who they are taking into custody. Neil could admit that he’s a little irritated with Andrew that at no point did the man clarify that the people who FF and Andrew were dealing with were Romero and Jackson.

Those are his father’s goons.

“They were here for me.” Neil says to the police officer and Andrew’s hand tightens in his, “They tried to take Smith because he’s my friend.”

They had decided on their story before the cops came. FF had no idea who any of these people were and was just defending himself. He’d gone out to catch his breath in the alley when Jackson had shown up. Neil had asked how in the world FF had handled Jackson on his own but FF must have been getting kind of loopy from blood loss because all he said was, “He told me to sing so I did.”

Neil can find out the full story later.

The important part is.

“Jackson went after Smith but Smith won the fight.” Neil says looking at where the cops are trying to decide how to get the fuzzy pink handcuffs off of Jackson to get him in the far more secure police issued handcuffs.

“Your friend said that you and he took out Romero together. That Romero is the one who stabbed him with your knife.” He says.

“Yes.” Andrew answers simply and Neil squeezes his hand as a reminder, “I went out to grab a smoke and Romero followed after me. Romero got hold of one of my knives in the struggle and stabbed Smith.” Andrew says with his usual deadpan affect.

“Yeah that’s what your friend Smith was saying too.” The officer says. “Well, I’m sure the FBI will want to talk to you all further but for now it’s a pretty clear cut case of self defense and no one but your friend has any serious injuries.” The officer pats Neil on the shoulder and Neil manages not to shirk away from the touch. The officer retracts his hand, “You guys are free to go tonight.” He says and turns back towards the car where a dazed Romero is in the back seat.

“Where did they take Smith?” Andrew asks since they’d been shepherded away from Smith the moment the ambulance had come. They hadn’t been able to ask which hospital Smith was going to be taken to so they could go and get updates.

“Lexington.” The cop answers, “Go on and see your friend. He seemed pretty loopy he kept talking about some beauty contest thing when he was getting loaded into the ambulance. I’m sure he’ll be a riot on painkillers.” The cop goes for a joke but it twists something in Neil’s stomach to think of FF so out of it that he’s talking nonsensically.

He feels Andrew’s hand stiffen in his and knows he’s not alone.

“Thanks.” Neil says before they head towards the front of the club. The club had been emptied out when the cops had come so Roland was babysitting Aaron and Nicky for them while they talked to the cops and FF was loaded out to the hospital.

In a way it’s almost a blessing that Nicky and Aaron are both so blasted that they aren’t comprehending any of what’s going on. They’ll have to drop them off back at the house before they go to the hospital. They’ll beat Wymack there easily even after the interrogation and drop off.

FF had asked them to call Wymack to let him know what was going on “I gave him the rights to make health care decisions for me if I’m incapacitated.” FF had said so Neil texts Wymack the hospital and the address after Andrew rattles it off for him.

“I don’t like that you hid it from me.” Neil says in the car.

“They wanted to kill you.” Andrew won’t apologize.

They still hold hands on the drive back to the Columbia house.

Andrew takes care of getting Aaron into bed while Neil helps Nicky.

Nicky who looks at Neil with a loopy smile and Neil hurts knowing that tomorrow when Nicky finds out about tonight and how he was too blasted to do anything to help FF.

Andrew and Neil reconvene in the Maserati and make their way to the hospital before either of them realize the issue.

“What is the name of the patient you’re looking for an update on?” The receptionist asks.

Both Andrew and Neil freeze.

Fuck.

MASTERPOST FOR ALL PARTS OF FLUENT FRESHMAN AU

NEXT

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The requests to be added to the tag list keep being spread out across a few different areas. If I missed you please just ask again in the replies I promise I just missed you.

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[stevesbipanic]

What if Steve actually doesn't remember most of his time in the bunker due to head trauma so he doesn't remember much of the torture but Robin remembers hearing every scream, remembers thinking he was dead when his limp body was dumped beside her and Steve wants to help her through it, they share the same trauma but sometimes Robin feels Steve got the easy way out getting to forget it.