#lots of angst in this one

[mothandpidgeon]

wip wednesday

Nobody’s tagged me but I want to share what I’m working on because it’s shaping up to be the longest os I’ve written…

Bfd! Pre outbreak!/Jackson!Joel Miller. You arrive in Jackson 22 years after the outbreak only to be reunited with your best friend’s dad, the man that stole your heart and broke it when you were fourteen– Joel Miller.

Here’s a taste.

Tagging some lovelies to share what they’re working on (no pressure obv) @ezrasbirdie @schnarfer @lowlights @ozarkthedog @freelancearsonist @joelsgreys @ghotifishreads

[stars-are-just-ghosts]

One Memory At A Time

(Written for @mamadore by request for my most recent one-shot prompts. Enjoy!) It was quiet for the first time in hours. Maybe not perfectly quiet, not silent. The heart monitor beside the gurney in the med lab was beeping steadily, there was a soft hum coming from the vent in the corner, and he could hear the hushed murmur of his friends speaking in the Cortex. Maybe it was too quiet, actually. Cisco could still hear the thumping of his own heartbeat in his ears, the tense rush and swell of his own breathing, the buzz of adrenaline and emotion that had finally worn off. Or at least the adrenaline had. Cisco was nothing but emotion now. Because Harry was… Cisco dragged his hands over his face, rubbing absently at the complete exhaustion he felt creeping in on him, sapping his energy, siphoning his will. He sighed heavily into his palms before slumping back into his chair, hands falling to his lap, eyes roaming up Harry’s resting form. He looked peaceful, honestly. There wasn’t a hint of agitation, not an ounce of anger or fear. Just calm. Just quiet. Sleeping was really the only time Harry’s expression wasn’t inundated with fire, with intensity. Now, in rest, he looked like he’d stepped just outside that fire but could still feel its warmth. Cisco reached forward carefully with his left hand, almost desperate to run his fingers through the untamable floof of Harry’s dark hair, but he forced his hand to move slow, to be gentle. There was a deep bruise from the right side of Harry’s hairline down to his brow, over his eye, and under the bandage at his temple. He could see the spots of blood peaking out of the white gauze like red pinpricks and knew Caitlin would probably need to change it again soon. Harry’s strands parted between Cisco’s fingers, and he stirred a little. His brows tensed, but then his face turned in Cisco’s direction as he let out a heavy breath and settled again, seemingly content to have someone stroke his hair in his sleep. Cisco could still picture the blood everywhere. Deep rivulets of it pooling on the floor around Harry’s head, soaking his hair, soaking Cisco’s knees as he slid on the floor to his side. He’d torn his sweatshirt off himself and balled it, pressing it into the gaping wound on Harry’s head, desperate to keep the blood where it was supposed to be. So much goddamn blood… He cleared his throat at the thought, pulling his hand tentatively away and standing. He needed to move, get the stiffness out of his joints, get the blood flowing. He’d spent so much time in that chair the last five days that he could probably draw every pattern on the well-worn cushions from memory. He paced to the far wall, stopping and hanging his head, closing his eyes as the tension in his back stretched out. Closing his eyes wasn’t a good idea. Because all he saw behind his eyelids was the explosion that had flung Harry like a rag doll into a concrete pillar. He could still taste the terror in his mouth, the absolute panic and fear that had raged through him at the sight of Harry crumbling to the ground, seizing and bleeding and… Cisco opened his eyes and sucked in a breath, lifting his gaze to the wall... (to be continued) - - - (Continue reading on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54468394 )

[paintedcrows]

Holiday Classics

Been thinking about Ford watching the 70s Animated Lord of the Rings Movies... (companion comic to this post!)

[nidbaesenpai]

Dare you say this love could just save you

[technically-human]

St. Hilarion's ghost story

[hinamie]

close again and closer still

[courfee]

17 December 1975 / 15 May 1976

[benevolenterrancy]

Scholarly peak is catching up on recent literature

[flwrstqr]

｡ꪆৎㅤ ENHYPEN HYUNG LINE WHEN YOU WIPE THEIR KISS OFF

🪽 ⋆ 𖥔 ݁ bfl!enha hyung line x fem!reader. kissing, petnames 𓈃 ๋ 826wc.

𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆 (이희승)

heeseung pouts instantly when you wipe the kiss he just pressed to your cheek, his brows furrowing like a kicked puppy. “hey, what was that for?” he whines, leaning closer to you with a playful glint in his eyes. you laugh, but he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you into him. “you can’t just wipe off my love, baby,” he murmurs, pressing another kiss, this time to your forehead. you smile and tease, “maybe you didn’t kiss me enough.” heeseung grins, leaning down to pepper your face with even more kisses. “better now, my love?”

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐉𝐀𝐘 (박종성)

jay raises an eyebrow when you wipe his kiss away, feigning offense as he crosses his arms. “oh, so that’s how it is?” he teases, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. you giggle, but before you can respond, he grabs your hand and pulls you closer, wrapping his arms around your waist. “you’re not getting away with that, baby,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your ear. he leans in and plants another kiss on your cheek, then your nose, then your lips, each one more lingering than the last. 

𝐒𝐈𝐌 𝐉𝐀𝐊𝐄 (심재윤)

jake blinks at you in surprise when you wipe his kiss, then breaks into a playful grin. “oh, i see how it is, sweetheart,” he says, stepping closer with that charming look in his eyes. “guess my kisses aren’t good enough for you, huh?” he teases, slipping his arms around your waist, pulling you snug against him. “don’t worry, i’ll just have to try harder.” he leans in, brushing his lips against yours softly, but before you can wipe it away, he cups your face with both hands, his thumbs lightly stroking your cheeks. “no more wiping this one, okay, gorgeous?” he whispers, his lips lingering near yours with a that smile

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐍 (박성훈)

sunghoon freezes when you wipe his kiss, his eyes widening slightly as his mind starts racing. “wait… did i do something wrong?” he asks, looking at you with a mix of confusion and worry. “was it too much? too soon?” he mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, overthinking every detail. you can’t help but laugh softly, reaching out to pull him back into a hug. “no, silly, i was just teasing,” you reassure him, resting your head against his chest. he lets out a relieved sigh, wrapping his arms around you tightly. “oh, thank god. you had me thinking i messed up, baby,” he says with a small smile, planting another kiss on your forehead.

[dclovesdanny]

DcxDp prompt

I’m feeling angsty, so here’s some angst.

Demon, twins, AU, where Danny did the whole thing where he died for his brother. I think it would be more angsty/dramatic if he died not by Damian’s hand, but by Ra’s for a punishment and just didn’t come out of the Lazarus pit, or if he was poisoned/killed by a traitor of the league, while saving Damian.

Fast-forward to after Damian has joined the bats, They go on a mission to Nanda Parbat. During the fight, Damian ends up being pushed into the water. He braces himself, expecting large amounts of pain.

Instead, he hears his brothers voice telling him that he’ll be OK, and that he is so proud of Damian. Damian can’t open his eyes, but he feels small, pushing him out of the pit. He opens his eyes to a small splash, as everyone is staring at him.

What everyone else sees is Damian falling into the pit, and then the pit stilling, looking like glass. Then a small child with white hair and pit green eyes guides Damian to the surface and then to the side. The farther from the middle of the pit he gets, the more he changes to look older, like Damian. He’s almost completely out of the water, placing Damian on the shore, when a monstrous being rises from the water.Damian is quickly set fully down, and the child wades back into the Lazarus pit, becoming smaller and younger as he gets close to the middle. He takes the other be hand, and they both sink into the water.

[leminaus]

is it ok to be a little selfish

[mrs-weasley-reid]

SPENCER REID the masterlist

❤️‍🔥 —angst 🧸 —fluff ✨ —nsfw

✿ Savory Kiss 🧸 ↳ a lot of things happened last night, but a shared drunken kiss between you and Spencer had your mind panicking.

✿ Power and Control ✨ ↳ Spencer finds an interesting remote on the ground, unaware of the power he holds.

✿ Unnecessary ❤️‍🔥🧸 ↳ silently suffering an unnecessary heartbreak over Spencer's "crush" on Agent Seaver.

✿ Slap & Escape series 🧸❤️‍🔥 ↳ friendships don't have to be cheesy and sappy; you and Spencer seem to thrive in harsh affection anyway.

✿ Regrets Sting ❤️‍🔥 ↳ you have always been there for Spencer. Turns out, he's never going to be there for you.

✿ Tricky Blunder (Regrets Sting part 2) ❤️‍🔥🧸 ↳ mistakes always reveal what the heart really craves. And Spencer wasn't an exception as he desperately makes things right with you.

✿ Sweet Addiction 🧸✨ ↳ Spencer always felt afraid you'd be too sweet for him. Turns out, you were just the right spice he needed.

✿ Say Don't Go ❤️‍🔥 ↳ nothing hurts more than the fear of losing you.

✿ Purple Silk and Laces 🧸✨ ↳ why does an UnSub get to have you like that but not Spencer?

✿ Doctors Across the Hall 🧸 ↳ sleep-deprived and traumatized, Spencer Reid attempts to pin the blame on his innocent new neighbor (he can't).

✿ Choppy Sticks 🧸 ↳ feeling embarrassed by his shortcomings in his chopsticks skillset, an eager Spencer Reid turns to you for a lesson.

✿ Shakespearean Rose 🧸 ↳ Spencer Reid silently admires the new psychiatrist on the floor.

✿ Made His Mark ✨❤️‍🔥🧸 ↳ a shivery trip to a liquor cellar turned into a steamy secret between friends and a not-so-subtle reveal between a small herd of colleagues.

✿ Just Say When ❤️‍🔥 ↳ you always choose Spencer Reid, but is it the right choice?

[steddiehyperfixation]

don't you forget about me (steddie fic)

saw this post and was inspired to write something angsty <3

The first thing Eddie is aware of when he wakes up, before he even opens his eyes, is the dull, aching pain throbbing through pretty much his entire body. The second thing he’s aware of is that someone is holding his hand. 

“Eddie?” The hand in his tightens its grip as Eddie begins to stir; the voice it presumably belongs to sounds immeasurably relieved, yet only vaguely familiar. 

Eddie groans. His eyelids flutter, blinking awake, and he groggily rolls his head to the side to get a look at whoever had spoken. 

The voice sighs again, “Oh thank god-” 

“Harrington?” Eddie’s eyes fly open wide now as they land on the mystery man sitting beside him on the edge of the bed - a man he most definitely is not close enough with to be holding his hand, and a bed that is most definitely not his own. He snatches his hand away. “What the hell are you doing? Where am I?”

“Ed-” Another man’s voice, this one just as relieved and infinitely more familiar. It fills Eddie with relief too as he looks to his other side to find his uncle Wayne rising from a nearby chair to come up next to him. 

“Wayne, what-?” His surroundings are becoming more clear. “What happened? Why am I in a hospital? And why the fuck is King Steve at my bedside?” Eddie tries to sit up only to gasp and wince in pain as the dull ache in his sides sharpens to near agony at the movement. 

“Take it easy, son.” Wayne’s hand lands on his shoulder, gently but firmly pushing him back down onto the pillows. “You were hurt real bad.” 

“Yeah, I got that,” Eddie grumbles out. He sucks in a deep, intentional breath and exhales slowly, the pain beginning to dull again now that he’s settled. His questions are still largely unanswered, though. Blank mind reaching desperately for any logical piece to this bizarre puzzle, he turns an accusing glare to Harrington. “Did you land me in here? Is that why you’re here, some sort of weird guilt thing?” 

Harrington’s looking at him like a kicked puppy. “What? No, I-” he falters, takes a shaky breath and swallows painfully like he’s trying not to cry. “You don’t remember?” 

“I don’t remember what? Will someone just tell me what happened?” Eddie’s confusion is rising more and more into agitation with every second he remains without an explanation. 

“What’s the last thing you remember?” Harrington asks quietly.

“I was driving home from school, just found out I wasn’t gonna graduate again.” Eddie frowns as he thinks back, still trying to put pieces together. “Did I crash my car? Is that it? I was emotional and not paying attention and got into an accident?” 

Yet again, he receives no answers. 

“Eddie, what month is it?” Wayne asks instead, his tone dangerously measured and serious. “What year?” 

“May…” Eddie says warily, “1985.”

His words hold a weight he doesn’t understand, landing heavy on the others in the room and thickening the air. It sends a chill of dread down his spine, the way his answer etches concern deep into the lines of Wayne’s face, the way Steve Harrington seems to take it like a blow to the chest. 

Harrington exhales sharply as if he’s been punched, standing abruptly and taking a few stumbling steps back. Wayne says, “It’s April of ‘86, Ed.”

Eddie’s blood runs cold. “No. No, it can’t be.” 

“I’m gonna go tell the nurse you’re awake,” Harrington mumbles, his voice strained and his eyes glassy with barely held-back tears. 

“I’ll go,” Wayne offers, pushing himself away from Eddie’s bed. He gives Harrington a meaningful look, though what that meaning is, Eddie can’t decipher. 

Harrington turns his devastated gaze to the older man. “But, Wayne, he doesn’t-” 

“I know, kid.” Wayne gives a sad smile and places a sympathetic hand on Harrington’s shoulder as he passes by. “Just talk to him.” 

Eddie is thrown off by this familiarity between them. Since when were those two close? He feels like he’s entered some sort of parallel universe where everything is just ever so slightly wrong. It leaves an itch beneath his skin, uncomfortable and out of place, like he no longer quite fits in his own body, in his own life. He’s lost 11 months, apparently, and this world is no longer his; he doesn’t know where he fits into it anymore. 

Wayne leaves the room, and Eddie wants to protest: Don’t leave me here with this guy I don’t know in this time I don’t know, please, you’re the only thing that feels safe and familiar! Anxiety is crawling through him like a thousand tiny bugs in his veins. He wants to scream, he wants to cry, he wants to run. Anything to shake this feeling loose. But he’s confined to this bed, trapped both by his pain and by all these machines he’s hooked up to, and he sure as shit isn’t going to have a breakdown in front of Steve goddamn Harrington. 

Instead, Eddie resigns himself to this situation and casts a sideways glance at Harrington who very much looks like he’s also trying not to have a breakdown. “I’m freaking out, man,” Eddie says finally, hating how shaky and pathetic his voice sounds. “I swear to god, Harrington, if you don’t tell me what the hell is going on…” 

Harrington worries his lip between his teeth as he hesitates. “It’s a lot to explain.” 

“Yeah, I bet,” Eddie scoffs out a humorless laugh. “I’m missing nearly an entire year, of course it’s a lot to fill in. Unless I’ve been here this whole time?” 

“No.” Harrington shakes his head. “No, you’ve only been here about a week. I- I don’t know why you’re missing so much time, the whole Vecna thing only started like a week before that-” 

“Vecna?” Eddie interrupts to question. “What does any of this have to do with the D&D campaign I was planning? And, also, how the fuck do you know about that?” 

Harrington closes his eyes for a second and takes a breath, like having this conversation is the most painful thing he’s ever had to do. “I’m not talking about D&D, Ed. Vecna was a real-life monster from a real-life alternate dimension we called the Upside-Down. The kids only called him Vecna because we didn’t know who he was at the time and he, like, cursed people before he killed them, but he was actually Henry Creel, which is a whole other fucked up story.”

“Okay…” Eddie doesn’t know who ‘the kids’ are and he’s skeptical of the way Harrington talks so factually about monsters and dimensions and curses existing in the real world, but he does remember his uncle telling him stories about the demonic tragedy of the Creel family, which is the only thing that makes any of this even halfway believable. It still doesn’t explain how Eddie wound up in the hospital with his entire body feeling like it’d been run through a blender, though, or why the former king of Hawkin’s High was hovering over his sickbed. He gestures for Harrington to continue. 

“I never wanted you to get involved in all this Upside-Down shit,” Harrington’s voice breaks. He steps closer to Eddie’s bed again, and he looks so so sad as he stares down at him that it makes Eddie’s own heart ache, just a little bit. Harrington’s hand twitches at his side as if he means to reach out for Eddie but then thinks better of it, running the hand through his hair instead as he continues, “I tried to keep you from it for so long, I really did, but then Vecna killed Chrissy in your trailer and the whole town blamed you and you were just a part of things then, there was no getting around it. You helped us fight him - Vecna. You kept his army of bats off our ass while we weakened his body and El weakened his mind. If it weren’t for you we never would’ve defeated him and we certainly wouldn’t have all made it out alive.” Harrington’s gaze softens, as does his voice, his next words almost a whisper, “You were a hero, Eddie.” 

“That doesn’t sound like me,” Eddie says, like that’s the least plausible part of Harrington’s story. And, really, it is. He can wrap his mind around a lot of things: a murder in his trailer - sure, Forest Hills always was a shady place; the whole town accusing him of being a killer - yeah, of course, that tracks; even an evil wizard from another dimension with an army of bats - fine, okay, why the hell not. But Eddie Munson is no hero, and he’s definitely not any sort of fighter either.

“No, you never did think so, did you?” Harrington mutters with a sad sort of fondness and the barest trace of a wistful smile. “But it’s true. Dustin was in danger and you didn’t even think twice. You ran right into the fray without a second thought, sacrificed yourself so that the rest of us might survive. Those bats nearly killed you, b-” he breaks, choking on whatever word he was going to say. His eyes swim with yet more unshed tears. “I almost thought they had killed you, you know. I thought you were dead when I carried you out of the Upside-Down,” he admits shakily, choked up and barely managed, “and even when I brought you here and you were stable, I was still so scared you wouldn’t wake up…” 

Eddie doesn’t know how to react to any of that information or to such a display of emotion. His own hands twitch now with the urge to reach out and comfort him, but he too denies that instinct. He tries for humor instead, something lighter, cracking a grin and teasing, “Aw, Stevie, I didn’t know you cared.” 

Harrington makes a sound halfway between a sob and a laugh. “Oh, Ed, you have no idea.” 

“We were friends then, weren’t we?” Eddie guesses now, carefully. It’s rapidly becoming the only possible explanation for the guy’s behavior around him. “Before all the Vecna stuff?”

“Yeah,” Harrington manages, forcing a small, sad smile as his eyes finally overflow and streak his cheeks with tears. “Yeah, we were good friends.” 

~

Wayne reenters the room then with a nurse in tow, and Steve quickly turns away and rubs his hands over his face. He needs to pull himself together; he can’t break down right now, not yet, not here. 

He listens, distantly, as the nurse asks Eddie a bunch of questions and then tells the rest of them that she needs to take him in for some tests to determine the cause and prognosis of Eddie’s amnesia. He watches, numbly, as she wheels Eddie’s entire bed out of the room. 

Steve can barely hear, barely see, his emotion clouding his eyes and roaring in his ears. He stares blankly through the open doorway and struggles to swallow down the ever-rising lump in his throat. 

Wayne’s voice rumbles from somewhere beside him, but he can’t quite make out the words. “What?” 

“I’ll take that as a no, then,” Wayne says, the sound reaching Steve’s ears a little clearer now. “I asked if you were alright.” 

Steve shakes his head. His voice comes out coarse and raw, “‘Course I’m not alright.” 

“Right, ‘course you’re not,” Wayne echoes. He follows Steve’s mournful gaze to the door Eddie had disappeared through. “What did you tell him?” 

“Told him he was a hero,” Steve croaks, “...and that we were good friends.”

“Ah…” Steve’s vision is so blurred behind a thick layer of tears he can’t see the sympathetic frown on the old man’s face, but he knows it’s there. “At least he’s alive, kid,” Wayne tries to be comforting. “You can always start over.” 

“Yeah, I know, but I don’t- I don’t want to start over, I just want-” Steve chokes back a sob. He just wants Eddie.

It’s a horrible thought, but Steve almost thinks that this just might be worse than if Eddie really had died… Because how is Steve supposed to handle the fact that his boyfriend of 9 months no longer knows him? How is he supposed to cope now that the love of his life looks right at him and no longer sees him?

He closes his eyes, presses the heels of his palms into his eyelids, inhaling a shaky breath and exhaling an even shakier sigh. Steve whispers, “It feels like I’m losing him all over again.” 

(part two is here!)

(also on ao3)

[technically-human]

A commission for @pipwasreal based on their wonderful ficlet so if you want to know what happens next, go read it!

I usually go with more muted colors for backgrounds, but I felt that with all the magic and sudden stuff happening, bright colors would be best! so that was really fun

Oh, Charles...

[caprart1]

Don't you hate it when your artist doesn't want to draw your other eye so they smash your face

[hinamie]

congrats on your recovery n all yuuji but unfortunately for you I thought the scars were cool >:/