#not to mention the aftermath

[youngpettyqueen]

a lot of the time when I get BJ on the brain I tend to loop around to thinking about Period of Adjustment so while I'm on the topic of BJ's anger I do wonder how much of his meanness from that point onwards is his attempt to redirect his anger so that he doesn't physically harm anyone again

[cloudwisp]

Arranged marriage with Jing Yuan where weeks before the ceremony officiates the union of two souls coming together, you were curious about your betrothed husband and wanted to see for yourself who you’re marrying instead of hearing any more perceptions made about him. You decide the best method to go about this situation is to drop by unannounced where there’s not much room for formalities. Of course, you come bearing gifts in the form of premium dried tea leaves and snacks to make up for the reason of your visit, and you’re met with an endearing sight of the general dozing off with his fist gently resting against his cheek in his loosely cross-legged position. Your gaze falls on the precious little bird perched on his shoulder as he breathes in a steady rhythm and your heart melts just a tad.

At the sound of Yanqing greeting you and slightly bowing his head where he was off to the side practicing his swordsmanship, Jing Yuan’s ear immediately perked up at your sudden arrival and he forces himself to straighten up. You had caught him at a rather vulnerable moment and with a sheepish smile, he apologizes if he came across as lazy as he was merely taking a well-deserved break. Your doubts about him begin to slowly fade away when he invites you to join him, and you learn that he’s just a simple man loved by animals outside of his intimidating presence as the Divine Foresight.

[jarondont]

Aftermath (odypen fanfic)

TW: mentioned SA and (according to my friend) slightly (and I mean SLIGHTLY) suggestive

[I was pretty proud of this one so I wanted to share :D]

[credit to @dootznbootz for the Water Wife™ headcanon]

The palace halls were deserted this time of night. The two lovers had taken an evening stroll — more like midnight stroll — and were still drenched from the creek. It wasn’t her fault, she insisted — Odysseus started it. Had he never smugly commented about his “godlike looks,” Penelope might have not used her naiad powers and they both would probably still be dry. But no.

That lovable little bighead, she thought to herself, smiling.

“What is it?” he asked from beside her. She snapped out of her thoughts and glanced at him — then, seeing his cocky grin, looked back down. Her cheeks felt hot.

“Oh, nothing. Just thinking about how embarrassed you looked after the creek incident.”

“Did not!”

“Did too.”

“Did not!”

“Quit arguing like a child,” she chuckled.

He pretended to pout, softening his expression like a little pup as he always did to persuade her.

“Don’t make that face at me.”

His grin returned, wider this time. “Why not? Too gorgeous for you?”

She stopped walking and playfully shoved his shoulder into the nearest pillar. Before she could say anything else, he grabbed her arm and pulled her close. For a second, they stayed there, looking into each other’s eyes, barely able to breathe.

She eyed his lips. He eyed hers. She inched her face closer, almost closing the gap between them —

“Wait.”

Confused, she pulled back. “What?”

Odysseus was trembling. His breathing was shallow and uneven, his skin pale. “I just … I can’t.”

“Why not?” Penelope’s brows furrowed. “Odysseus, what’s wrong?”

He didn’t respond. His chest was heaving, his eyes flicking wildly from one spot to another — looking at everything but her. And he wouldn’t stop shaking.

“Odysseus. Ody, look at me.”

He did, but his eyes were wild.

“You can tell me if something’s bothering you. Did I do something? Say something?”

“No — no, I …” He trailed off, shaking his head.

“It’s okay, Ody. You can tell me.”

“Ca — ” his breath hitched. “Calypso,” he breathed, barely audible.

“What — ” Suddenly, Penelope understood. She’d heard that word before. Calypso wasn’t a what.

She was a who.

“Another woman?” Penelope took a step back. “Is that what this is about?”

No response. Just more ragged breathing.

“Answer me, Odysseus,” she spat angrily. “Who is this woman you slept with? Why did you choose her over me?”

His eyes widened more, suddenly flicking up to meet hers. “No! No, it’s not like that. She — ”

“What’s going on, Odysseus? What else haven’t you told me? What else are you hiding?”

“Penelope, listen — ” He paused, choking a little as tears formed in his eyes. “I tried to stop her but she — ” Suddenly, he dissolved in tears. “I’m so sorry.”

Oh.

Penelope’s heart dropped. He didn’t choose Calypso over her — no, the reality was much worse.

She stepped closer again. “Ody, it’s okay — ”

“No. No, it’s not. I’m sorry.”

Reaching out to touch his face, she repeated, “It’s okay — ”

But he jumped away from her hand like it was the point of a sword.

“Don’t touch me.”

She froze, realizing why he said that. “I’m sorry, Ody — ”

His expression softened. “No. I’m sorry. I — ” his voice caught in his throat as his eyes widened again.

“I have to go,” he said, slowly backing away.

“Odysseus — ”

“I’m so sorry.”

And he turned and sprinted away.

•••

“Odysseus? Ody, where are you? Odysseus!”

Penelope ran through the halls, almost tripping and cursing at her dress for being so long. She called her husband’s name over and over again, worry blossoming in her heart like a poisonous flower.

She checked the gardens. Nothing.

She checked the main hall. Nobody in sight.

She checked the courtyard. Completely empty.

Where was he?

Realization struck her — there was only one place left.

Panting, she knocked on the bedroom door. “Ody? Ody, it’s me, are you in there?”

No response. She was about to knock again but then —

Sniffle.

Her heart felt like it had been ripped into pieces. Just that one sound made her knees feel week. Odysseus was crying — because of her. Because she decided to do the one thing that made him uncomfortable — touch him.

Although, she thought, Odysseus had never acted like this before. If anything, they both loved curling up on that wedding bed of theirs and losing themselves in love. It made them feel … intertwined. Not just their limbs. But their hearts. Their souls. Like two olive bushes — one tame, one wild — growing from the same stem with their branches wound together so tightly that nothing, not even the wind or rain, could pass through.

Now, it felt as if someone was hacking at the wild branch with an axe, trying to cut him off from his stem and pry him away against his will. That someone was Calypso.

Or maybe — Penelope dreadfully thought — it was herself.

Either way, she could not let him feel like that any longer. She opened the door, stepping inside.

“Ody?”

Another sniffle.

She gently closed the door, then followed the sound to behind the bed. Curled up in a corner was the king of Ithaca — shaking, sobbing, choking on his breath with his head against the wall and knees tucked into his chest.

“Odysseus.”

A pained groan escaped his throat as he winced. His eyes were shut tight, his skin dripping with sweat and tears.

Her gut twisted. What was happening to him? “Odysseus. Ody, wake up. Please.”

“Enough, goddess,” he croaked quietly. “Please.”

“What — Odysseus, it’s me —”

“No!” His body twitched as if someone had sent a bolt of lightning through him. His brows furrowed in pain. “You’ve — you’ve hurt me enough. No more — no more games. Please, I beg of you.”

“Odysseus! Please! Wake up!” she cried, crouching down and desperately taking his face in her hands. She could feel tears forming in her eyes, clouding her vision. What must he have gone through to get this upset?

His eyes still squeezed shut, he jumped away from her touch. “Get away from me!” he yelled. “Please — leave me alone. Let me — let me have one peaceful night. One. Please —”

“ODYSSEUS, IT’S ME! It’s Penelope! You’re home, remember? You’re safe. Please, come back to me.” She choked, the tears flowing freely down her face now.

His eyes flew open as he jolted awake. At the sight of her, his breath hitched. “Penelope,” he whispered. “It’s you.”

She nodded, smiling through her tears. “Yes, my love. It’s me. You’re home.”

For a second, he was silent, taking in everything about her — her face, her electric blue eyes, now overflowing with tears. She held his gaze, watching him realize that this was Penelope — his loving wife. She’d never hurt him. Never.

Suddenly, he threw his arms around her, dissolving in tears again. She hugged him back, her fingers combing his sweat-soaked hair as sobs racked his body. She fought the urge to cry with him, knowing that she had to be strong for the both of them if she wanted to help him.

“It’s okay,” she whispered into his ear over and over again until he had somewhat calmed down. “You’re okay.”

He waited until the tears stopped flowing, then let go and met her gaze again. “I’m sorry.”

“No.”

“I’m sorry, Penelope.”

“No, I’m sorry. I made you uncomfortable. I won’t touch you anymore —”

“No!” he exclaimed. “No, please do.” His eyes glinted with longing. “Twenty years I have been starved of your touch. I can’t hold back any longer. I just — it’ll take some time for — for me to get used to it.”

“Take your time, my love. I’ll be right here by your side.”

He nodded, biting his lip as his eyes moistened again. Burying his face into her shoulder, he sat with her in silence.

After a moment, Penelope spoke. “If you ever want to talk about it —”

He shuddered.

“You don’t have to,” she stammered. “Talk about it, I mean. I know it’s hard. I know you’re hurt. But if you do —”

“No, I do. Just — give me a second.”

“Take your time,” she repeated.

A few seconds passed as he steadied his emotions. Separating himself from the embrace, he took a deep breath. He couldn’t meet her eyes.

“It wasn’t just Calypso. Before that … Circe.”

Oh, gods. Penelope felt dizzy.

“But at least I got something out of that. Hermes told me that for her to release my men, I — I had to allow myself into her bed. So I did, reluctantly.” His voice cracked. “It worked. She released my men and sent us on our way to the Underworld. I thought that would be the last of it.”

Penelope started to take his hand in hers, then stopped herself. But Odysseus looked down, then took her hand instead. She smiled at him comfortingly.

“Calypso was a different story.” He swallowed. “After my ship was struck down by Zeus, I washed up on an island. She greeted me, appearing kind at first. She gave me shelter, food, clothing, and company. One day, I told her that I must be on my way. But she —” He hesitated. “She had different plans. ‘I gave you everything I could. It’s time you repay me.’ I agreed. ‘Anything, goddess.’” He paused. “I wish I had known what she had meant.” His voice cracked again as he finally met Penelope’s eyes. “I’m so sorry, my love.”

She shook her head.

“I'm just a man, Penelope. A mortal. I was no match against this goddess. I’m so sorry. Every night, no matter how hard I resisted, she’d — she'd force me into her bed; every night after … her, I’d lie awake thinking of you — of how I betrayed you, even when you were waiting for me for all these years —” He choked, letting out another sob.

She wrapped her arms around him again as he whispered, “I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t, Ody.”

Silence fell again between the two as he composed himself. Penelope spoke again — “This happened … every night?” she whispered.

He slowly nodded into her shoulder.

“For how long?”

No response.

“Ody —”

“Eight years.”

Gods.

Now tears fell from her eyes too as his fingers dug into her back, desperately grasping for her affection. The realization that this — being forced to betray his beloved; not the monsters, the gods, or anything else he faced — was the worst he could have ever suffered.

For eight years. Penelope felt sick.

“I’m so sorry,” he kept saying, but she only shook her head.

Her heart shattered. None of this was his fault; why was he apologizing? And this was nothing like the Odysseus she knew. Odysseus was a hero — strong, brave, and cunning. No, this was … broken. A man who had been through far more than he let on; far more than he deserved.

Even heroes need to be consoled sometimes, she figured.

They sat like that for a while, taking comfort in each other. When they finally parted, they both felt different — healed.

All that was in the past now. They had each other now, as they always would. They were safe. They were home.

They were together. And that’s what mattered.

“Penelope?” Odysseus asked.

“Hm?”

“Thank you.”

She only smiled.

That night, the two of them fell asleep in each other’s arms — the two olive bushes, intertwined again at last.

Never to be separated again.

[shmorp-mcdurgen]

gee wiz, it sure is cool that Gordon survived the resonance cascade, I sure hope he's doing well

Finally decided to give Gordon a ref for my au Aftermath (which i've talked about here. Once.)

Also bonus:

[deskraven]

[hajihiko]

Family Business

[spacebubblehomebase]

Hello! So I have a question about your HHstargazer au. Was Charlie upset when Lillian and Lucious divorce, and is she still upset?

Have a wonderful day!!

When it comes to Charlie's reaction to the divorce, you know how she is. She's more likely to be affected by the feelings of the people around her rather than just concentrating on her own worries. Her mom had long been growing distant from them, so she was hardly surprised. Lilian looked rather assured of her choices and Charlie could adjust. It was just nice to see her mom look freed. Like she could start anew and be excited for it. But her father... Her poor father- Lucius -took it hard. She's always been closer to her upbeat dad than Lilian. But there was a period of time after everything was finalized that her dad just... shut off. From everyone and as close as they were before that, this hurt Charlie more than anything. More than the divorce even! She basically had to grow up relying on herself for 4 years. Without the power and influence her canon self had. (Which surprisingly made her less naive than canon Charlie. Experiencing all of humanity as a human herself without being sheltered and without bias. Both the good and the bad laid unfiltered before her.) Charline's dad was physically there, but he was barely holding on enough to be called emotionally or mentally present in her life. It was an awkward period for them and Charlie was only beginning to develop herself then too. She was basically the Octavia to Lucius' Stolas. Her temperment easily affected by mood swings and hormones like most teenagers. A sensitive, broody, and confused mess, both Magnes were. It was only when the father and daughter duo broke down their walls and reaffirmed how much they needed and missed each other that everything started changing again, but for the better. It was also at this time that they would later hire a most eccentric host into their home who calls himself Alastor. Hope this helps ya! ^v^

-Bubbly💙

[mrkgrl]

Can I still tag it with TW movie--- or uh... TW movie The Aftermath, maybe. I have so many more of these doodles/comics.

[sera8273]

“I see now why you were so adamant into freeing your mortal now.” He joked as he smushed more insects in his hand.

When Athena practically promised that her Mortal would make everyone bleed he didn’t at all think that it would also, literally, include everyone.

Said Goddess was currently choking on those bugs of hers in her Talon whist shaking like she was having a nother seizure. Trying to stop any other laughs that hurted her so.

A gurgle of anger caught his attention as he stared in amusement at his now bandaged-up-like-a-mummy uncle.

“Shut….your….fucking…mouth….” He hoarsely replied when one of his tentacles twitched uncomfortably as he coughed up more blood.

Just like Athena, who became her more Owl like form and acted more like one with talons, feathers, and more beak like mouth. Poseidon was more sea creature like. Tentacles, fins for ears, gills for hands, and he was glowing.

A smack on the Sea God head made him stare directly into glowing yellow and irritated eyes.

“Fates above Uncle, when I say to not talk I mean it! That mortal did more damage than we all have realized. One more strike and he would’ve pierced through your skin-“

“Like a fish kabob!” A certain messenger piped in resulting in more laughter from the War God.

“Or worse, your heart and skull would’ve smashed open! Now drink!” Apollo finished hastily as he placed a mint-green and blue potion in the unwilling lips of his Uncle. Not at all caring if he choked on it or not.

“And to think that my own bloodline did that to you.” A chuckle escaped from Hermes who looked at his two other siblings. His eyes turned to pity as he saw his dear sister eyes twitch while her smile looked crooked, forced, and lopsided. Shaking his head, he stared at the War God who was feeding, or trying too atleast, feed their dear sister smashed insects, the only thing she could stomach at the moment. “As much as I despise you with every bone in my body, that was amazing darhling!”

Ares let out a ‘tched’ at that. “He had a lot- and I mean a lot of pent of rage mixed with guilt built up in him. I just gave him one final tipping point for it to break.” His eyes wandered to his bandaged uncle who coughed weakly. Another chuckle escaped from him. “I was not at all expecting for Athena’s Mortal to do that to him however.”

“I have never seen that much loyalty in one singular human before, and that’s saying something.” A certain peacock piped in while sipping at her wine. She was standing in a corner watching both Poseidon and Athena. Mostly the latter however. “And to do this for said loyalty, now that’s a deal.”

“Hah! I heard that he broke off Circe’s spell because he thought of his wife! No wonder Ody got pissed off when Uncle over here said that he would never see them ever again!” Hermes, now with a bag of popcorn, Hermes looked over to his uncle again. Rolling his eyes as Poseidon groaned in pain once again. “I still don’t get how he managed to even hurt you, more or less make you of all Gods bleed red.”

Said God let out a shaky pained filled laugh. “Don’t….fucking….start….with me…..” more blood flowed from his mouth. “He used…my own fucking- ack! Weapon….of all things!” Apollo stared at him with disregard as he turned to his siblings. “From what I’m able to gather. Our dear Athena was able to bleed red because she showed emotions:remorse, guilt, teasing, anger, and will power. Our Uncle also showed emotions, however, not ones that Athena got;Pain, Fear, a taste of his own medicine.”

Poseidon groaned once again in annoyance as Hera and Hermes laughed. Apollo shared a smile with them.

Ares watched and then commented - “Heh, now we just need to try that on dear old Father.”

[whump-in-the-closet]

yo you're sick you absolutely deserve those followers hell yeah -- for the prompt, something about a stoic whumpee and hurt/comfort, if you will?

thanks anon <2 literally too kind

now this is my type shit >:)

cw: savage beatdown, creepy whumper, hurt/comfort, stoic whumpee, gang beating up whumpee essentially

The moonlight cast watery, wobbling reflections on the shining concrete sidewalk until it looked like newly healed skin.

Caretaker tapped their steering wheel with an impatient tempo, scanning the road. The stolen car smelled of spilled alcohol and cleaning products and it did nothing to help their nausea.

In fact, they gagged.

They were in a near-abandoned part of town and the jagged edges of the buildings bit into the night sky, hemming them in. The telephone wires hung loosely, like dense vines, trapping anyone who dared to enter.

Caretaker cursed into the empty car. "Where are you?"

The light turned green.

Caretaker slowly drove forward, still scanning the road. Halfway across the intersection, they found him.

Rather, they saw a limp form and several shapes standing over it.

Caretaker pulled over to the side, slamming on the brakes. Bright eyes glanced up and reflected the shine of their headlights.

"Fuck. Fuck, fuck fuck-- Not fucking again."

***

Was red a feeling? 

Because it was all Whumpee could feel. Red. Throbbing in every single part of his body. Twisting and choking around his throat. Boiling up and purging until he vomited, on his hands and knees.

And still, they hit him. Someone kicked him in his stomach and he was back on the pavement-- face scorched. Here at least, the concrete was cool to the touch.

There had been too many to fight off.

He had tried at first. To fight back. To try and protect his face.

Their laughter was still ringing in his ears. They had ripped his hands away--

"Easy, killer,"

"Not so tough now, are you?"

Whumpee could barely register what they were saying to him.

Red. All red. 

Slithering and tightening and choking on the concrete sticky with his own blood, warm against his clothes and skin.

He wanted to slip into it, let go, fall into it, and never return. Never, ever come back. 

But even that was denied to him. They pulled him back to his feet, yanking his jacket off with rough hands. Hands that quickly turned into fists and steel-capped boots.

One grabbed him by his hair and shoved him against the wall. Leaning in close enough for Whumpee to feel their hot breath on his face, "Whumper sends his regards."

No.

God no.

"Says he misses you, pretty boy."

The silence built into a muffled scream tinged with a new horror. Whumpee didn't beg-- had never begged-- but he panicked then.

His antagonist slammed a hand against his mouth with casual irritation, "Oh, shut it."

In the distance, a car screeched.

The hand relented and Whumpee collapsed against the sidewalk, breathing raggedly, vocal cords ripped to shreds.

A new voice echoed like it was at the end of a long, long tunnel.

They scattered, abandoning Whumpee to the newcomer.

Whumpee didn't care.

Let the silence crush him. 

Please.

"Whumpee!" The voice was distorted and Whumpee couldn't quite place it.

Someone crouched down beside him.

A hand reached down– hovering over him– not again, please, not again. He forced himself up on his shaky hands and knees.

"Whumpee! What is this?" they persisted.

"Thank-- thank you, I'm... I'm well." He hacked up blood and it spotted the concrete, dripping and crimson.

"Oh, Whumpee."

Why did they sound so disappointed?

"Whumpee, it's me, Caretaker." Their voice was low and calm. One hand slipped around his shoulders, already helping him to his feet.

Whumpee stopped moving. This was the harshest blow of them all. That Caretaker, with their ocean-green eyes and light smile, was here to see this.

Whumpee shoved them off. He couldn't look them in the eyes. "Please," he said, "Please leave me alone." His voice cracked.

Underneath the streetlight, Caretaker only sighed. They took off their jacket and threw it over Whumpee's shoulders. Still talking in that gentle voice, they said they were going to get him home and that it was going to be alright.

Whumpee clutched the jacket with a white-knuckled grip-- like it was a lifeline-- like it was the only thing keeping him together.

But when Caretaker stroked the top of his head– gently– the kindness broke Whumpee. He hated it. He fell apart for the second time that day. He cried silently, the electric colors burning behind his eyes. 

He didn’t resist when Caretaker wrapped him in a hug. Caretaker smelled of soft grass and their eyes were blurry with tears of their own.

Whumpee didn't know how long Caretaker held him, but when they asked, "Should we go home now?", he said yes.

He opened the car door by himself and spilled into the backseat, still clutching Caretaker's jacket.

"You good?" asked Caretaker softly, glancing back at him in the rearview mirror.

"I got blood on your jacket."

"That's.. that's the least of my worries." Caretaker started the car. "Anything else?"

"I can do the stitches by myself," muttered Whumpee. "But it's not that bad."

"It's okay if it is bad. I can help," said Caretaker softly and with a gentleness that hurt.

Whumpee didn't answer-- couldn't answer-- and the car ride was long and silent. Blood dripped from the leather and onto the carpeted interior.

[3-2-whump]

The Scent of Jasmine

<prev next>

Who's in the mood for some carewhumping after the emotional rollercoaster of almost dying? I know I am!

Thank you @whumped-by-glitter and @generic-whumperz for being awesome beta readers

TW/CW: aftermath of mock execution, trauma aftermath, extremely dubious consent, nonverbal whumpee, whumper turned carewhumper, dubiously consensual nudity, death threats, chastity devices (yes, it’s back), forced domesticity, food whump (sort of) (tagging it anyway to cover my bases), intimate whumper

The boss noticed Khaled’s grateful enthusiasm slowly fade into a catatonic silence on the drive home. He didn’t think much of it, though. Poor boy is just shocked is all, he told himself, we can work on that. He parked, got out of the car and led Khaled out of the garage and to the elevator.

His first order of business was to strip Khaled when they got home. The poor thing was soaked in melted snow and cooled piss. He was barely responsive as Thomas pulled him into the laundry room and slowly peeled each layer of clothing off his shivering body. “You need a bath, Khaled.”

Khaled didn’t reply, instead opting to stare at his bare feet with empty, starless eyes. I can’t blame him for being quiet. Anyone would be a little messed up after a mock execution, he figured. He sighed, gently taking the slave’s hand in his and leading him to the master bathroom.

Once inside, Thomas deposited him at the entrance and turned on the lights and the fan. Khaled stood silently watching him by the door as he knelt by the large, deep bath tub. “Come on in,” he beckoned. Khaled inched closer to the bath tub as Thomas poured a generous glug of bubble bath solution into the marble expanse and cranked the water full-blast, making micro-adjustments to make sure the temperature wasn’t too hot. As a finishing touch, he uncapped a tiny bottle of jasmine oil and dripped a few drops into the tub. The floral scent rose on the plumes of steam coming from the frothing tub.

Once the tub was full enough, Thomas turned off the tap and pulled Khaled closer to the tub. He effortlessly scooped the young man’s cold body into his arms, settling him on the edge of the bath tub before gently lowering him in. “I’m going to help you wash your hair and body. Nod if you understand me.”

Khaled faintly nodded, eyes fully closing as he slumped into the soapy water. “Good boy.” Nothing but a small, contented sounding whimper answered him. At least he’s becoming verbal again.

Thomas methodically washed the young man’s body and hair, being mindful of not getting any soap in his eyes as he massaged his scalp with the shampoo. He noticed the newly forming chafe marks on Khaled’s wrists as he scrubbed his body. All the while he whispered sweet nothings into his ear, like “good boy, you’re being so good right now, we’re almost done, I gotta rinse you off and drain the tub next.”

The awareness in Khaled’s eyes was flickering back on once Thomas helped him out of the bath tub and began towel-drying him. “Back with me, beautiful?” he teased.

“Mmm.” Inky dark eyes glittered up at him from dark lashes and damp strands of black hair as Thomas wrapped a soft fluffy towel around his shoulders.

“Yeah, good. Very good.” He procured something small and metallic from behind his back.

Khaled instinctively backed away as soon as he saw what it was. “Khaled,” he warned. It was all he needed to say for the boy to stay rooted on the spot. “I haven’t forgotten about you running around and getting an STD,” he explained as he wrapped the cock cage around Khaled’s privates. “And I’m still mad about it. But maybe I will let you out once we’re both all better.” He padlocked it in place and held the small caged appendage in his hand. “Or once I put that dumpster lover of yours under, like the horndog he is. Whichever comes sooner.” He marveled at how it was but a microcosm of Khaled’s greater captivity. As he craned his gaze upwards, he saw Khaled pout. “Oh, don’t give me that look –I’m doing this for your own good!” The boy smoothed his frown back into a neutral expression of apathy as he hid his eyes behind his lashes.

“That’s more like it. Now, can you change into your pajamas and wait in the living room until Master is done in here?” He measured out his words slowly and carefully, explaining it as if Khaled was a child again. Another quiet hum answered him. “Good boy. When I’m done, we can eat, and then we’ll watch whatever you’d like.” He gestured him out with a small wave of the hand, then hopped into the shower for a quick rinse off himself.

When he got out of the shower, towel-dried himself, and changed into a fresh pair of flannel pants and a wife-beater tank top, Thomas made his way to the living room, where Khaled sat on the floor, at the foot of the couch, gazing down at the carpet with desolate eyes. He was still wrapped in the bath towel. Seeing him there brought back memories of when Khaled was younger, when he would lean against his shins and let him brush his thick black hair. The memory brought back fond feelings in Thomas’ chest. He turned around and went back to the bathroom for a hairbrush.

Once he was done brushing his slave’s hair, they ended up sitting opposite each other at the dining room table, each with a plate of reheated takeout from a new Indian restaurant Tom had wanted to try. While the boss himself ravenously devoured the bhuna ghost, Khaled kept tearing the same corner of buttered naan between his fingers while staring apathetically at the murgh cholay.

“Are you sure you don’t want any more food?” he asked again. “You hardly touched your portion.”

The boy merely shook his head.

“Come on, at least two more bites, Khaled,” he coaxed. “Give me at least two more bites before I put it away.”

Khaled cast him an empty, weary stare, not breaking eye contact as he tore off the weathered chunk of bread, dipped it into the curry, and ate exactly two more bites.

They ended up cuddling onto the couch together after dinner, a rarity in their household. Thomas man-spread on the couch and rested his arms outstretched along the back. Khaled, still wearing nothing but a damp bath towel around his shoulders, leaned against his side with his head resting on his chest. His hands curled around a steaming mug of chai, which he occasionally sipped as they watched a rerun of the AFC World Cup. Khaled didn’t cheer, or groan, or offer any commentary of any kind throughout the whole match. It was unusual for Khaled to remain this quiet and glum during a game. Thomas gently took the mug from his hands and set it on the table. “What’s wrong? Why are you so quiet this evening? Is it –oh, is it because of that little scare off the side of the road?” he guessed. Khaled pushed his weight up against him, just short of burrowing into the man’s side.

“I guess I scared you pretty badly, didn’t I? Look, I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I know now it wasn’t you, but I had to be sure. I promise I will never fake you out like that again.”

The young man remained silent as he leaned against his chest.

“If anything, you should be blaming that boyfriend of yours,” he continued. “I bet he never would’ve attempted that hit if he knew what I was about to do to you tonight. But, what’s done is done, and now you’ll never see him again.”

Khaled did not respond.

It took about an hour more of mind-numbing soccer footage for him to realize the boy had fallen asleep on him.

Oh. He softly smiled as he turned off the TV. He carefully got up and lowered Khaled onto the couch, disentangling the towel from his unconscious, nude form. He propped a throw pillow behind his head, then unfurled a fleece blanket and draped it over him, making sure his feet were covered and he was properly tucked in for the night. “Goodnight, Khaled,” he whispered, leaning in to plant a soft kiss on the side of the boy’s parted lips. “I… love you...”

Le Tag List: @kabie-whump @rainydaywhump @whumped-by-glitter @skittles-the-whumpee @generic-whumperz @bamber344 @there-will-always-be-blood @morning-star-whump @a-la-whump @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees @defire

[ancha-aus]

RealAgeAU Drabble - Bath

Hello!

Direct continuation from the prev Drabble 'Mud'! Taking place almost directly after.

First Drabble (original prompt by @spotaus ) Prev drabble Next Drabble

So we take off almost right were we left off, only like a small hour later.

*---------------------*

Nighmtare can't stop the purr as warm water goes over his shoulders to clean some of the worst mud away from the cravices.

Dust hums "Yeah I figured it would feel nice. feeling warmer?"

Nightmare nods and leans back against the hand on his spine. Dust had been supporting his spine ever since they got back and told him what happened. They went straight to the bathroom.

"Hah! Dusty using his magic hands?"

Dust shoots Killer and annoyed look from where Killer is sitting with his boxers on in the bathtub with Ngihtmare. Grinning widely.

"What? I also needed to get cleaned up!" Killer looks very smug.

Dust shoots Nightmare a look "How is it that you are 6 yet he is more childish?"

Ngihtamre grins and just leans more into the hold. The touch is gentle as Dust removes mud from the sensitive and painful spots. It hurts a little but not nearly as much as it used to hurt when getting cleaned, and no were near as much hurt as with the mud in it.

Dust continues cleanign his spine and ribcage slowly "It didn't get too far in. Seems like your sweater protected you from that."

Ngihtmare pushes closer to Dust's touch "Sorry for getting it dirty..."

Dust hums "No need. You didn't mean to get it dirty and even fi you meant to. It is just a sweater. Even so Cross is already working on cleaning it. It will be fine." He uses a small bucket to let some water wash away the soap.

Killer grins as he leans agianst the tub edge "Me next dusty?"

Dust doesn't even look up as he keeps washing Nihgtmare's shoulders "You can wash yourself."

Killer whines "But dusty~ Stuff may have gotten between my joints! Same like nighty!"

Nightmare rolls his eye lights but purrs when Dust starts washing his skull and neck. It is so nice and familiar by now. They always do this even if Nightmare knows that Dust knows Nightmare can wash that himself. Dust always takes time to carefully wash his skull and neck for him.

Dust hums "And Nightmare is six. which you are not." Dust taps his shoulder carefully "close your sockets nightmare. I am going to wash off the soap."

Nightmare nods and closes his sockets before feeling the warm water wash over his skull and shoulders. It feels amazing!

Dust smiles "there is the happy purring. much better." then softer "Can I wash your sockets?"

Nightmare considers it for a moment. He never likes seeing the others when he baths, he should be able to wash himself and it make sit easier to accept their help when he can't see them... But Killer is also in the bath and that is fine... Maybe he will be fine with it?

Dust is silent and waits patiently as Nightmare thinks it over. Ngihtmare ends up nodding and turning around in the tub to be facing Dust instead.

Dust gives a small smile before focussing on his face as he looks at his sockets from different angles. as Dust stares at him Nightmare just looks back at Dust. Unlike Killer, who is mostly naked and with just his boxers on, Dust is still mostly dressed. Dust had only taken off his hoody, scarf and gloves. So Dust just sits by them in loose sweats and a shirt. Dust gives a quiet hum "Yeah I can see some mud in there. I am going to try and get it out okay?" he looks at their basket of bathstuff and takes out some soft cotton swabs. Dust soaps them up before holdign hsi skull steady with a gentle hand by his skull.

Dust looks at him "Still okay?"

Nightmare frowns as he thinks it over. This should feel bad or dangerous. people near his sockets or skull is very bad news. But no panic or fear. He hums and mutters "it is fine."

Dust looks a bit surprised before grinning "Brave babybones." ngihtamre knows he is glaring at Dust but Dust just chuckles "okay. No eye lights."

Nightmare huffs but does as told. he turns his eye lights off and with them goes his side.

The darkness does make him nervous but he still feels the steadying hand of Dust on his skull. He hears Killer whine and mumble about unfairness and that he wants the spa treatment as well. And that Dust is so unfair to not give him one as well!

the cotton swab touching the inside of his skull and near his sockets is weird. It doesn't hurt but it is still weird. His hands shoot up and he grabs Dust's arms.

Dust freezes "too much?"

Nightmare shallows and forces the words out "It is okay..." he just.. needs this... just a reminder. it is okay.

Dust mutters softly "I will be careful."

And as he said he would. He is. careful and slow movements. with purpose. And It does feel better! discomfort and itchiness he hadn't been fully aware of just disappears with each gentle movement.

"That was it. You can turn on your eye lights again."

NIghtmare needs a moment to get his magic to respond and get his eye lights to return. It is brihgt for a moment but even his sight seems better than before!

Dust grins "There. Almost all clean."

Killer grins and leans over the side of the tub "Which means it is mine turn!" causing a big wave to splash over and for Dust to now have wet pants.

Dust looks down before shooting him a glare "You did that on purpose."

Killer gasps and puts a hand above his soul "me?! I would never! I am sooooo sorry for your pants!" he grins and winks "You could just lose them." and he wiggles his eye brows.

Dust looks very unimpressed and Ngihtmare agrees. Not one of Killer's best tries at flirting.

Dust just looks at Nightmare again "do you want me to clean your arms or do you want to do it yourself today?"

Nightmare frowns and thinks it over. He did his own pelvis and legs as always but it was harder than he remembers to get dirt and mud out of those spots. He just looks at Dust "Can you do it?"

Dust nods and starts getting the shower floof ready again. Nightmare holds out his arms and lets Dust do his magic to get the stubborn dirt out off his joints. Dust just seems to know how to do it as the dirt and mud easily disappears.

Dust nods and looks very happy with himself "There he is. All clean." he puts the bathstuff to the side and goes to grab the towel.

Killer whines again "come on dusty~ Please?" Killer grins as he turns around until his spine is against the tub and he looks over backwards over the edge with his skull upsidedown to look at Dust. It can't be comfortable. Killer grins "Please~ What if some of the stuff stays behind? What if I can't clean myself right?"

Dust rolls hsi sockets as he gets the towel and with an easy motions nightmare is out of the bathtub and wrapped in the towel. Dust pats him down carefully as he ignroes the whining of the adult behind him. Killer bemoans about this unfair fate and how he needs help from his friend and teammate yet Dust is cruel to not help him.

Nightmare is dry and Dust dresses him in his PJs. Dust lifts him up and shoots Killer a look "Don't destroy our bathroom whiel I am gone." and Dust leaves the bathroom.

They exit into their downstairs bedroom and Dust goes straight to their pillow and blanket nest.

Dust sits down and grabs a blanket and wraps it around him "comfy?"

Nightmar enods "yeah." Dust hands over his plushy and NIghtmare is quick to put her right by his side. Batsie is her name... Like the cow name Bessie because they are on a farm but with bat because... bat.

Not that it matters because Nightmare isn't going to admit he named his plushy.

Dust smiles at him "I need to go clean the bathroom and make sure Killer doens't drown and kill himself with his stupidity. Horror is-"

"right here." and Horror joins him. Horror smiles at Dust "Good luck with Killer. I got this."

Dust nods and leaves to return to the bathroom.

Nightmare moves his plushy around until he can use the wings to blanket him as well. trying to keep his hands free. horror hands him a plate and fork as he sits with him. Asking him how his day had been at his appointment.

nightmare eats and calmly talks about his day and all that happened. his soul calm and content after his bath.

--

Killer chuckles as Dust leaves wiht Nightmare. He should have actually cleaned up but come on! It was too much fun to hoke around with Dusty! Especially the tiny blush he had managed to cause!

Killer chuckles as he kicks the water up before leaning back to lay in the tub. Ah, baths are very nice. Maybe he should take more of them.

He just lays there to enjoy the water.

"Dont'drown yourself. Water and dust together make a mess."

Killer opens his sockets and grins at Dust who looks very unimpressed "I don't know. YOu seem fine with bathtime."

Dust rolls his eye lights "You know what i mean. Also get dressed weirdo. Have some modesty."

Killer grins and winks "oh? Is the most powerful monster shy about bare bones?"

Dust shoots him a look "Just clean yourself."

Killer leans dramatically over the edge of the tub "I can't~ What if i miss a spot? And how am I suposed to wash myself if i have to fully dress myself? I can't do both at the same time dusty~"

Dust crosses his arms as he glares at him. "YOu seriously still on about this?"

Killer grins "Sorry. can't." he leans forwards and shrugs his shoulders.

Dust lets out a long annoyed sigh "fine."

Killer blinks and looks abck at Dust as Dust calmly cleans the shower fluff of dirty water and puts new soap on it. "euh?"

Dust moves in his blind spot and a hand touches his shoulders and Killer just freezes.

He hand pushes him a bit forover and oh fuck. fuck... that.. that is that seem shower fluff on his spine and it feels so good and how are dust's hand so secure?!

He doens't know what to think. What does he do?! Why?! Why is dust washing him? Oh fuck it feels so nice? No wonder Nightmare always purrs up a storm after bathtime. Fuck keep in the purring. You are making this weird. it is just your homie giving you a bath that you have been asking him for! Don't make it weird!

He... hadn't realised how nice this was. this touch. Normally Killer is the one that hangs all over the others and starts contact. This is technically stuff that Dust started and it feels so nice is this what it is suposed to feel like?! Is it normal that Killer just wants to melt into the touch and wnats it to never stop?!

how is this so nice?!

Killer straight up had one night stands with others across the multiverse and that is NOTHING compared to how nice this is.

The fluff disappears and some warm, almost scolding hot how does Nightmare deal with this heat every bath and whyt does he like it so much? Goes over his back and spine.

Dust snorts and speaks "There. your spine and ribcage are clean now."

Killer glances back and Dust looks highly amused and smug as he collects the shower stuff. He puts it on the side of the bath before he gets up. He shoots him a look "The rest you should be able to manage yourself." and he leaves the bathroom.

okay while Killer is sad the contact ended he is also thankful that Dust left because there is a very very very obvious reaction to the touch and his boxers are not doing a great job hiding it.

What the fuck is wrong with him!?

*---------------------*

Killer having a bit of a gay panic. It was his turn. Also I have so little drabbles from his POV?! It is criminal

First Drabble Prev drabble Next Drabble

[chirpsythismorning]

I’m gonna be right there beside milevens cheering if there is leaks about casting for a young male teen, presumed by fans to be Will’s love interest, but for different reasons 😅

[hufflepuffwritingstuff2]

An Offer You Can't Refuse- Part 3

Part 2

Hero did not win. They woke up back in their bed, a few bruises blooming across their body, with the beginnings of a black eye. They groaned, sitting up.

“Ow…” Hero mumbled.

“How are you feeling?”

Hero jolted, and immediately regretted it, as that only served to aggravate their angry bruises. They turned their head- ow- and saw Supervillain sitting at their bedside. Their brows were knitted together, and their mouth was drawn in a thin line. Oh, Hero had really screwed up now.

“I, um,” Hero stammered, “listen, if you’re going to kill me- please just make it quick-”

Supervillain’s expression softened. They held out an ice pack to Hero.

“I’m not angry with you, Snow Angel,” he said, “though I am a bit upset you ignored my instructions.”

Hero cautiously took the ice pack and held it up to their swollen eye. They used their powers to make the pack a little colder.

Supervillain grabbed a glass of water and two small pills off the nightstand. Hero eyed the pills warily.

“they’re not drugs,” Supervillain said, “just pain relievers.”

Even if they were drugs, what choice did Hero have? They took the pills and swallowed them with the water.

“I’m afraid your little stunt has forced my hand- I’ve had to increase your security,” Supervillain said, taking the empty glass from Hero, “but before we get into anything else, let me apologize.”

Hero blinked in surprise.

“I gave my men strict orders that you are not to be harmed under any circumstances,” Supervillain said, “the henchman who apprehended you seemed to have forgotten that. You won’t have to worry about them anymore, however. The only thing they’ll be doing now is fertilizing my plants.”

Hero’s face went pale. So now someone was dead because of them.

“Oh, Snow Angel,” Supervillain sighed, “what am I going to do with you?”

“You could start by telling me why the heck you brought me here in the first place!” Hero shouted, “I can tell you right now I’m not going to be your living weapon!”

“Who said you were?” Supervillain asked, quirking an eyebrow.

Hero sputtered in disbelief.

“It’s very heavily implied- it’s- it’s- if it’s not that then what for!?”

There was an all-too-convenient knock on the door, and Supervillain was more than happy to take the opportunity to go open it and forget about Hero’s question entirely. A henchman walked in, pushing a cart full of breakfast food inside. Supervillain thanked them; the henchman nodded and left the room. Supervillain sat back down at Hero’s bedside and set a tray from the top shelf of the cart in their lap.

“That isn’t drugged either,” Supervillain said, reading Hero’s face.

Hero’s eyes bounced from the tray of food, to Supervillain, to the food, to Supervillain, and finally back to the food. Hesitantly, they took a very, very small bite… and melted.

“Good, isn’t it?” Supervillain smiled.

“Mhm…” Hero agreed.

Their mouth was in heaven, and before they knew it, the plate was empty.

“Judging by the state of this-” Supervillain held up the cleared plate, “-someone was indeed hungry. First you sleep for almost a whole day, then this. It’s a good thing I bought you when I did, you’ve been neglecting yourself.”

“Wha- I have not been neglecting myself!” Hero protested.

“Hm,” Supervillain hummed, “I’ll be the judge of that.”

Supervillain took the tray up, setting it back on the cart and pushing it to the side. They got up, holding their hand out to Hero. Hero eyed it with a puzzled expression.

“Wouldn’t you like to see the grounds?” Supervillain prompted.

Hero blinked. Yes, actually, they very much would. If they knew the layout of Supervillain’s home, the easier it would be to escape it. Hero took Supervillain’s hand and slid on some slippers that had been left out for them. Supervillain smiled and led Hero out of the room.

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[shmorp-mcdurgen]

Aftermath: Yellow Eyes

Gordon has trouble sleeping, even months after waking up in the hospital after the Black Mesa incident. Worse yet are the things he's been seeing since then.

CW: Drug mentions

Notes: A little over 2000 words, and another short Aftermath story, as a treat

Dyson Spheres.

Incredible, unfathomable structures built to harvest the energy of the stars; large rings of an intelligent being’s design, orbiting the star it imprisons. The rings each hold enough energy to power entire civilizations, those very civilizations being made up of things man currently doesn’t know, or will very well never understand. What remains out in the distant reaches of the universe remains a mystery, one that humanity may never even come close to grasping within its feeble minds and sense of what is reality. What even is reality? Is it something set in stone, the very pieces of it being placed together like a cosmic, fractured puzzle, with the full picture slowly being revealed? Is it something that fluctuates like the waves of the great seas, something that humanity can get so close to understanding, yet every time it goes the right path, the road ahead becomes twisted and deformed like tangled ropes, with humans having to begin the process of entanglement anew. 

The Dyson sphere appears so simple to the mind, the concept feeling like the natural next step in power production, yet at the very same time it feels so grandiose and impossible for it to be fully understood. What happens when something far greater than humanity has already found out the very concept of what reality is, bending it to its will and making the improbable and incomprehensible perfectly understandable to their greater minds? Would humanity fall to the greater power? Will they adapt to the new understanding of the universe, or will they perish like a rabbit ensnared in a hunters trap, doomed to thrash and attempt to free itself, only to realize it doesn’t have the strength nor the understanding to ever truly be free? Perhaps if we look at the stars long enough, they’ll finally meet our gaze; only then will we learn if our eyes will see the splendor of the cosmos or if they’ll burn like everything else.

Gordon stared at the messy drawings in his journal, depicting Dyson spheres and alien planets, ones that he could only imagine being out there, somewhere, in the infinity of space. His eyes stung from the cold air around him, with it being hard to remember if he’s even blinked once within the last few minutes. His glasses had slid down his nose, nearly falling off before he pushed them up with one of his thin, calloused and scarred hands. He was unsure of what time it was, or even how long he'd been awake, though the exhaustion creeping up on him, along with the headache he felt reverberating in his skull, were enough to deter him from wasting more time thinking too hard about too many things at once. He carefully shut the journal, shoving it into one of the drawers in the desk before standing up. His right shin ached, sending a sharp pain up his leg as soon as he placed his weight on it. He brushed the pain off, reaching for the wooden cane that was leaning against the side of the desk’s top.

When Gordon left the office, he glanced down the hallway he stood in, seeing the light from the lamp placed in the living room pouring through, barely reflecting off of his green eyes before he turned around, opening one of the doors of the hallway. He flicked on the bathroom light, being greeted to the mirror above the sink, with the sight of who was staring back at him from it making him let out a soft sigh. He first noticed how disheveled he looked; His hair was uncut and unclean, pulled back into a lazily done ponytail, and his beard was no longer a clean-cut goatee, but instead a messy, stubbly mess. He was still wearing the hand-me-down green sweater Eli had gifted him right when he got out of the hospital a couple months prior; God, had it already been that long? Despite the sheer mess his appearance was, his eyes were the worst part. They appeared darkened by the shadow under his brows, the bags under them telling how little sleep he’s gotten for him. The once bright, hopeful look in his eyes was now a hollow, dark glare. He examined the face of the man who he was surprised, yet disappointed, survived things that have made full armies fall, all before he shook off the feeling and opened the mirror, revealing the medicine cabinet behind it.

He pushed empty pill bottles to the side before grabbing a semi-transparent orange bottle with a white cap, one that had his name on it. He opened it, taking out the last two pills before swallowing them, all before slamming the bottle on the countertop beside the sink and closing the mirror. He looked down, not making eye contact with himself as he turned away, back into the dark hallway as the bathroom light was shut off behind him. When he limped into the living room, only barely using his cane to support his weight, he heard rustling coming from the kitchen nearby. He stared into the dark room, catching short glimpses of a green light coming from inside before he approached, flicking on the light to see if he could see what was there. He walked around one of the kitchen’s counters, hearing the rustling getting louder before he finally saw the culprit; A small bug-like creature biting and clawing at a pack of off-brand cookies. Gordon sighed, realizing it was nothing but his pet Snark, or Stanley as he called him. Gordon placed his cane against the wall, letting out his breath as he crouched down, his right leg nearly giving out as he did so, to pick up the dull red and black shell of the oversized bug, causing it to let out high-pitched squeaks as it was held up. Gordon stared at its one, giant glowing green eye before he held it against his chest with one hand, using the other to pick up the torn packaging of the plastic cookie container; no wonder the vet said that Stanley was slightly overweight.

Gordon tossed the container into the trashcan as he left the room, flicking the light off as he limped towards the living room couch and the lamp resting beside it. Stanley hopped out of Gordon’s grasp, landing on the couch cushions before Gordon sat down beside where it landed. He rested his hands on his jean clad legs, before reaching up and removing his glasses, rubbing his eyes with the other hand as if that would help ease the exhaustion. Stanley chirped and squeaked as it crawled around the couch, moving up and onto the back of it when Gordon turned his legs to lay across the entirety of the couch. He adjusted himself until he was mostly comfortable, using one of the cushions to support his head and sore leg, all before he lightly placed his glasses onto the coffee table in front of the couch. Stanley rolled off of the back of the couch, landing on Gordon’s stomach, making Gordon let out a breath and wincing slightly when he felt Stanley’s claws digging into his stomach, luckily not enough to leave any cuts. He lightly caressed the back of Stanley’s shell as it laid down on top of him, its eye closing before Gordon leaned back, reaching for the lamp’s pull-cord, and shutting it off.

.

.

.

Gordon heard static before his eyes had even opened, the harsh sound ripping him out of deep sleep more effectively than any alarm clock ever has. When his eyes opened, he glanced towards the pale-blue light of the television near the front of the room, seeing it was tuned to a dead channel. Gordon was tempted to get up and shut it off, but his arms nor legs made any attempt to move from their spot on the couch. In fact, nothing could move aside from his eyes, with a wave of paralyzation hitting him at that moment. Gordon’s heart thumped in his chest as he tried not to panic, knowing it to just be a temporary paralysis that would leave him at any moment, though the longer it took, the further he delved into feeling trapped in his own body. As he desperately tried to move a single one of his limbs, he froze, eyes staring at something he could barely see through his blurred vision. Next to television stood a tall man, one that was barely visible through the darkness behind the bright light of the static. Gordon could make out the outline of its white dress shirt under its dark coat and tie, but Gordon’s eyes fixated on the two bright yellow eyes staring back at him in silence. The man didn’t move, feeling close to a bizarre statue one might find in a museum somewhere, feeling so lifelike yet so surreal and fake at the same time. 

Gordon was unsure whether the apparition was real or simply another hallucination, yet his body had already made its decision that it was a threat, trying desperately to get Gordon out of harm’s way, yet remaining unmoving aside from a few minor twitches. Gordon finally managed to free his arm, reaching for the pull cord before turning the light on, his head turning to face where the man was, only to find him gone, as if he was never there in the first place. The TV was off, with the static’s sound and light disappearing when the light returned to the room. His breathing heaved his chest, making him ache with every harsh breath he took. He sat up, eyes fixated on the place where the man once stood, almost as if he expected him to reappear the second he blinked. However, his attention was drawn away when he looked down, seeing Stanley prodding at his foot with one of its claws, its antennae twitching all the while. Gordon glanced back up, thankful when he saw nothing out of the ordinary before he leaned over and let Stanley crawl onto his hand, holding it up and placing it back onto the couch cushion beside him.

“Gordon?”

The sound of someone else's voice nearly made Gordon jump out of his own skin, his hand instinctively reaching for a gun holster he didn’t have around his waist. Gordon’s tension was relieved however when he saw who the voice belonged to: Barney. Barney was standing in the hallway, covered in a blank gray t-shirt and sweatpants, with his tired eyes staring back at Gordon, with an emotion that was unreadable. 

“What are you doing up so early,” Barney asked, “I thought you were the one to sleep in all the time.”

Gordon tried to think of an answer, feeling his throat become tight when he didn’t have one, at least not one he wished to share.

“Also…I thought I told you to keep that roach in its pen while you stay here.” Barney pointed at Stanley, who was in the process of crawling underneath the couch beside Gordon’s foot. 

Gordon looked around, not seeing where it had went before letting out a breath, messily using sign language to say; “Put him back later.”

“Why don’t you put him back now,” Barney said with a stern tone, “I don’t want to come back from work to see it raided the pantry again.”

Gordon looked to the side, deciding to not bring up the torn up cookie container at that moment. Gordon stood up, a wave of nausea hitting him at once as soon as he did, causing him to fall back onto the couch, sitting there until it started to wane again. Barney’s slightly annoyed gaze softened when he watched Gordon rub his eyes, tiredly reaching for his glasses to put them back on.

“...You look like hell.”

Gordon was aware of that sentiment already, making him not feel a need to respond.

“You sure you’re good to work with Doc today?” Barney questioned as Gordon tried again to stand up, this time succeeding in not collapsing. “You know, I can always ask him to give you a day off–”

“Fine.” Gordon signed. “I’m Fine.”

Barney stared back at Gordon before letting out a slight scoff. “I suppose I can’t really tell you what to do, huh.”

Gordon glared at him, not noticing, nor caring, how harsh the look appeared. It didn’t last long regardless however, as right after he began to look for Stanley to put him back in his pen, whistling to try and get its attention. Barney continued to stare at Gordon from the hallway, tired eyes only barely concealing his worry before he turned back towards his room to get ready for his job at the hospital. When Gordon heard the door close, he looked back at the hallway, brows slightly furrowed as he thought to himself. He didn’t expect Barney to understand exactly the things he had been experiencing since he woke up, and the very thought of telling him, risking the very friendship Gordon had been treasuring since he could remember, made him feel ill. Of course, the ill feeling could have also come from the tension he felt in his chest, but it didn’t matter regardless. Barney deserved better than to be dragged into another man’s mess, anyway.

Thus, by choice for once, Gordon remained silent.

[earthspark-shockwaves-reduction]

actually I find it so funny that they made a whole new bot named aftermath instead of actually showing the aftermath of s1