#oof this was angsty

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

It had only been a few hours since the glowing entity had sunk into Nightwings shadow while he was on patrol. So far, his symptoms were mild but concerning.

Batman had wrapped his eldest son in a big blanket as he shivered violently. Taking the thermometer out of his mouth, it showed he wasn't running a fever, but his temperature wasn't running any lower than normal either.

Which was odd since Dicks lips were blue.

"Do we have results on the blood samples?"

-Not much.- Red Robin answered through the coms, -this stuff is kinda like Lazarus water but only vaguely. If Ras is involved he's changed up the formula a lot-

Bruce looked down at his son, usually this would be the point where he would make a quip or joke of some sort, but there was nothing. Only his face contorting as his emotions swang to one extreme to the next, his eyes periodically flashing Lazarus green...

Aka Danny is badly injured and in his panic he sees Nightwing and thinks, "Safety" and that the hero wouldn't mind, so he burrows his way into Nightwings shadow to basically go into hibernation to fix himself.

Who could have possibly guessed that a super powerful entity forcibly entering someone's subconscious and staying there would have massive mental and physical consequences? Not Danny, apparently.

[hayden-christensen]

PREQUELS APPRECIATION WEEK 2024 DAY 1: PROTAGONISTS ▸ ANAKIN SKYWALKER

I don't like sand. It's coarse and rough and irritating, and it gets everywhere.

[pandagirl45]

My boyfriend helps me with so much unhinged ideas

Bucky wakes up in a 50s/60s/70s (not sure which) suburban neighhood (a fake world or dream state thing) and he is living an almost prefect life. Tony dressed in formal wear like usual but underneath is very catalog ready lingerie. It's all good until there are things that's aren't right and off. Then Bucky realizing it is not real because he remembers Howard being dead, Tony wouldn't marry him in a million years. A debate on if he can live and die here or wake up smell the ash.

[2aceofspades]

TW: Blood/Injury, Implied Death

_______________________________________________

With you

Lil one-shot I guess...??

_______________________________________________

After the dust cleared, it was dead silent. The air was thick with moisture from the dark clouds looming above them all. Someone, probably Raphael, yelled out something Two didn't quite process, his ears still ringing as his vision slowly cleared.

A faint blue glow flickered in the near distance, not too far from where Two was slumped on the ground. More muffled shouts rang out as Two attempted to collect himself, staggering to his feet and trudging over to the source of-

No.

Just the image alone was enough to bring Two collapsing back to his knees. Stupid, he thought.

"H-hey..." One's weak voice just barely got through to Two, snapping him right out of his thoughts.

He stared down at the dimming blue glow, watching it flicker and fade in and out. How the hell are you still here, breathing?

His thoughts became flooded in his head, even more so as he felt his arms cradle his brother's near-lifeless body.

"Did we win?"

Two felt his jaw clench at One's question, feeling frighteningly close to grinding his teeth until they were flat.

Did we win?

The question echoed in Two’s head, as if that would better help him process this moment. In any other instance, he would have deflected and scoffed at such an empty, meaningless question. Did it matter? he thought as he titled his head up, looking around briefly at the wasteland that surrounded them. It was over, that much was apparent.

"Yes,” he huffed, looking down at his brother in his arms as he continued, “Now, shut it and save your strength. Your heart-"

"I know," One croaked out in between a few sputtering breaths, interrupting Two in more ways than one. Two tried to ignore the cast-off of blood coming from his brother's mouth, despising the sickening feeling settling in his stomach as it hit his chin. One smiled weakly up at his brother, his eyes dull and unfocused.

How dare you, Two thought to himself.

His eyes flickered from One's exposed heart, bleeding out and hardly beating, and back to his brother’s face. His brother looked beaten, bloody...broken. It wasn't a look he saw from him often, if at all. It was that damn smile that he watched waver as One's heart beat softer and softer. What cruel irony, Two couldn't help but think, a metaphorical expression brought to life by his stupid, thoughtless, idiotic brother.

Two could still fix this. Even as he held his brother tighter against his own plastron and felt his shirt get soaked by the horrid mix of blood and empyrean; he thought to himself how he'd be the one to fix this.

There was no other choice left.

“Good…” One let out the softest of chuckles, “…we…we can s-start over.”

Something in Two’s own chest faltered, even just briefly. It was enough to shut out the feeling of One’s pathetic coughs and wheezes against him. He watched how One's eyes dulled further, his gaze wandering away from Two's face.

Starting over? That wasn’t ever an option, not one that Two had ever weighed in his mind. He wasn’t sure if that was even an option now. After everything he had done, everything he sacrificed, worked for…his brother still wanted to burn it, bury everything down and out of Two’s reach. One wanted this win, he wanted the impossible.

“Impossible…” Two muttered under his breath.

He heard yet another faint chuckle. And then the dense silence that followed.

_______________________________________________

~bonus doodles~

(':

[turtleblogatlast]

Leo getting hit with a truth curse but instead of forcing him to admit to super sad or worrying things it’s things like “it was me who broke the remote” “I saw Mikey prank Donnie and helped hide it because it’s way funnier if he didn’t know who it was” “I rip my clothes to look more like Raph’s because he’s really cool” “my stripes aren’t even red they’re pink!”

[wordswhisperinthedark]

last kiss

(alt. versions below!)

(yes I did reference the iconic Promare CPR kiss for this😂)

[heroesriseandfall]

I know the Tim fandom trope of the Batfam not finding out about his missing spleen until later is mostly for angst and humor so it’s not necessarily worried about the technicalities—but just to be more serious for a moment, I think it’s unlikely Alfred wouldn’t notice a fresh surgery scar when he was wrapping Tim’s injuries from the fight with Ra’s, right after they reunited.

Given it was a recent emergency surgery, it would be pretty obvious I think? Especially since Tim kept clutching that area when he woke up, either from that injury or another one from this issue:

Red Robin #12

And Alfred had just spent the past few months having not seen Tim since the day he opened a grieving Tim’s bedroom door to find him gone (unless he saw Tim briefly during Blackest Night, but even still). Then Dick finally brings Tim back to Alfred unconscious and bloody…I just think Alfred would be giving Tim a very thorough checkup and would NOT miss a recent splenectomy scar.

All this to say this doesn’t mean people can’t ignore these details for fun but I think we could always be milking a lot more angst out of Red Robin #12.

[chobbleblog]

Every once in a while I will randomly remember a childhood show and this time it was Lab Rats. Went and watched some clips and part of the first episode and wow- the amount of abuse trauma ABC would have if this wasn't a comedy show aimed at kids-

[akaikali]

As much as I love the popular pairings in Fairy Tail (other than Miraxus because I hc Mira as ace lesbian), I love rarepairs just as much.

Lowkey based on my fic that has Jerza, Erzajane, and Jellaxus

Also if you couldn't tell, Jellal is my babygirl. I don't thank Hiro Mashima for much but I DO thank him for making Jellal the subbiest sub to ever sub

[afewproblems]

For the angst prompts ;

"You look like hell." "I feel like it."

Famous Eddie showing up on Steve’s doorstep years after Eddie left

Oooo love this idea, thank you very much for sending it Nonny! I hope you enjoy!

***

"So, he's back in town," Robin says instead of a greeting into the receiver, a leading lilt in her voice.

Steve sighs and knocks his head into the wall beside the mounted hand set, "yeah".

She hums, the sound crackles over the line like static in Steve's ear.

"You want me to come over?" Robin asks carefully, as though dismantling a bomb, picking through what to say as gently as she can, hoping it's right.

And Steve hates it.

He hates that even after all these years, Eddie Munson can get right under his skin like this.

It should have ended back in '88, when Eddie had left them all behind to 'make it big'.

Or at least, that's what the note had said.

The one in hastily scribbled blue ink, dropped on the cold and empty side of the bed that Eddie had left. Steve had awoken alone, with only the note and the smell of weed and cigarettes and sex on his sheets.

He had tried calling the trailer, only for Wayne to pick up and explain that Eddie had been planning this for weeks, 'didn't Ed tell you?'

Eddie had left for New York along with Gareth, Jeff, and Grant, bound for city lights and a better music scene.

No, Eddie hadn't told him, but Steve didn't say that. How could he?

Instead, he thanked Wayne, his voice hoarse, and hummed something close to a yes when Wayne asked if Steve would make sure to drop by when he had time, the Pacers season had started after all.

"Steve?"

Robin's voice breezes through the phone again, jolting him back to the present.

"Sorry Birdy," he sighs, shaking the last memories of the Munson's from his mind, "don't worry about me, really".

She scoffs and Steve can almost picture the way she's certainly rolling her eyes, "I always worry about you Dingus, that's what I'm here for".

"I know".

They talk for a little longer, speculating on how much longer Clinton will last in office now that the truth has come out and which of them would host the finale of Seinfeld --'it deserves a special night Steve, we are taping it, getting as many snacks as we can, and indulging in some good old misanthropic comedy'.

He tells her goodnight after another half hour, and insists that he'll be okay.

And he will, of course he will.

It's been ten years since Eddie Munson set foot in Hawkins, and there was absolutely no reason for them to run into one another.

Well, sure, he still kept in touch with Wayne over the years --how could he not when the old man seemed to pull excuses to see him out of thin air.

Robin had always cautioned Steve on his continued relationship with Wayne, questioning why he insisted on maintaining contact with Steve.

But it was nice to have someone to watch the game with over a beer, the occasional barbecue in the summer and hell, Steve had even celebrated a Thanksgiving or two or three with Wayne Munson.

With Steve cutting off his own parents years back, it was nice to feel like he had still had someone looking out for him.

And really, there was no reason for Eddie and Steve to run into one another.

Steve would be fine.

***

It's almost a week after his call with Robin that the doorbell rings and Steve's world comes to a stop.

He's putting away the small grocery trip, and to call it that was a bit ridiculous considering the snack to fruit ratio, but Robin had been very specific about their Seinfeld watch party slated for the coming weekend.

Steve opens the fridge door to pop the milk in, tossing a, "coming!" over his shoulder as the bell rings a second time.

Steve hopes it isn't his neighbor again as he makes his way to the front hall of his small home. It would be her third time angrily telling him that the tree in his backyard had shed even more crabapples over the fence and into her yard.

And considering their postage stamp lots, where else was the poor tree going to do it?

"Look Mrs. Patterson," he says wearily as he flips on the porch light and opens the front door, "I'm going to do something about the branches this weekend--"

But it isn't Mrs. Patterson standing on his front porch.

It's Eddie Munson.

Steve blinks, feeling as though part of himself has been wrenched from his own body to watch from above. His palms are sweaty all of a sudden and there's a tightness in his chest that grips his lungs, he can't breathe.

Eddie tries for a half wave and a smile, but the effect is lost as Steve continues to stand in shocked silence.

He's thin; Eddie had always been on the lanky side but his shoulders were still broad and he was strong enough to lug his band equipment around. He's almost gaunt now, with deep set bags under his brown eyes. His curly hair hangs somewhat limp over his shoulders and he reeks of stale cigarettes.

But it's undeniably Eddie Munson standing at his front door.

There are so many questions, and Steve wants nothing more than to demand answers if he can manage to get the words out without yelling.

What are you doing here? Why are you here now? How did you know where I live?

How could you leave like that?

"You look like hell," Steve says instead, his grip tightens on the door frame as Eddie drops his head in a nod.

"I feel it".

His voice is slightly deeper, more gravely in tone now than it was ten years back.

But perhaps that's what screaming into a microphone and partying in New York for ten years will get you.

"How did you know where I live?" Steve asks after another beat of strained silence.

"Uh, Wayne, I ask him about you a lot and about half the time he'll give me an answer when he's not calling me a dumbass and telling me to call you myself".

"Wayne has been telling you about me" Steve says faintly, feeling as though he might be sick on Eddie's shoes.

Wayne, someone that Steve had been looking up to, getting advice from, and spending so much time with, had been doing so just for Eddie.

All this time.

Robin had been right to tell him to be careful.

"Leave," Steve whispers suddenly, making Eddie step back in surprise, "I don't want to see you, either of you, again".

"Wha--no, Steve, wait!"

But the door is already closing, slammed against Eddie's hands that knock and knock, pleading with him to open the door, to just hear him out.

But how can he?

It wasn't just Eddie showing up after all these years, but on top of that, everything that he thought he had with Wayne had all been some ploy to help his nephew keep tabs on him.

He'd let himself be hurt again, by another fucking Munson, one he thought he could trust.

Steve locks the door and flips off the porch light, uncaring of the muffled curse from the other side of the wood.

He doesn't want to hear what Eddie has to say, after all, Eddie hadn't cared enough to stick around all those years ago.

Why should Steve?

[artiststarme]

See You Later, Big Brother

Well @hannahhook7744, your prompt is distracting me at work, I hope you like it!

~*~*~*~

Steve was never very close to his brother. With ten years between them and too little hobbies shared, their relationship seemed more forced than voluntary. Even still though, they were family. Steve knew that if he needed him, Phil would be there to help (as seen in the many times he looked the other way with Steve’s speeding and horrible driving). 

That’s why it hurt so horrendously when he found out that Phil had died in the earthquakes. 

Steve felt numb. Frozen. Dead inside and the most alone he’d ever been. His only family, besides his parents that had moved away without ever looking back, was dead. Never again would Phil pull him over for speeding and let him go with exasperated threats. Never would they silently eat burgers across from each other in a small diner booth while sipping on butterscotch milkshakes they both denied were their favorite. And never again would they talk about boys or girls with stuttered pronouns and nervous glances searching for the other’s acceptance. 

What hurt even worse though was the loss of what they could’ve been. Phil had seen him as a bratty kid, King Steve, and the traumatized version of himself that he was after the Upside Down. But he would never see him as an adult, as someone he could be proud of. They wouldn’t get a chance to grow closer or become proper brothers in a status they never quite reached. 

Perhaps worst of all was what Phil could’ve been thinking when his patrol car fell into the fiery cracks in the earth. Did he know that Steve loved him? That he looked up to him as a role model? That he loved having him as a brother? Steve didn’t tell him any of that enough, never showed his appreciation, and he sure regretted that now. And now Steve wouldn’t get the chance to tell him. Nor would he have a chance to apologize for all the harsh words he spewed at Phil during their last fight. He wouldn’t get to tell him that he didn’t mean anything he’d shouted at him. Steve would never get to make it up to him or earn his forgiveness. 

No, now Steve had to live with the fear that his older brother died alone, in pain, and thinking he hated him. 

He spent the next week recovering from the bat bites on his sides, avoiding probing questions from the Party, and visiting the comatose Max in the hospital. He knew better than anyone how she felt now. If Vecna was still around, he would target Steve and feast on the pain suffocating him. An all-consuming pain only someone who’d lost a sibling could feel. More than ever, Steve wished that Max was awake, unhurt, and present. She would understand Steve’s feelings of turmoil of losing Phil much like she did with losing Billy. Even as he begged her from her bedside though to awaken, she stayed frozen with her eyes closed tight. 

She would die just days later. 

Steve had to plan two funerals just two days apart. One for his estranged brother and one for the girl he saw as his sister. He didn’t cry at either. His eyes were far too dry from crying so much in the privacy of his crypt of a home to spare any tears in the light of day. 

He would grieve his family, his blood brother and the sister he’d adopted. He would watch the youthfulness and innocence of the kids melt away in their grief. Eventually though, Steve would move forward although the scars, just like the divots in this sides and the silvery line encircling his throat, would remain as a reminder of the pain he had to suffer all too young. 

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[nethhiri]

Marooned: Chapter 36

Kid x FemReader x Killer

Warnings: Violence, rape, mental anguish/ trauma response

Almost Awake

The sickening sound of splitting wood caught everyone's attention. The faces above you all turned. You were on some kind of weird high, an adrenaline rush, or maybe what Kid had said earlier sparked some semblance of happiness. Whichever it was, you could feel it in your soul that you could fix that mast. It looked like you had made a mistake by not taking out the last harpoon. By taking the chain from the projectile, it had an unrestricted range, and some asshole used that opportunity to hit your mast. You tried to get up and run towards it. Instead of moving forward, Kid used his powers to push you out of the way. You were still tangled in chains, making it easy for him. It was too far and the mast was falling too quickly for you to get there in time. Something within you commanded you to try anyway. 

There was a rush of heat through your body as you slammed your hands down on the deck, desperately wanting to prove your worth, to earn the place Kid already said you had. The wood of the deck touched the mast, so the rule of contact was still in play, but maybe it wasn't as strict as you initially thought. A brilliant, almost-white light zipped from your body to the mast, the wood panel of the deck rattled with the energy that was passing through it. At the base of the mast, where it met the deck, the light exploded upwards. Wood creaked as small green tendrils erupted from the splintering portions of the wood, rapidly growing thicker and winding around the entire girth. The vines pulled the mast straight again, tightening around it until the broken ends met. Tendrils from either end joined and wove together, re-establishing the connection in the wood.

It felt like you were in a lucid dream. You knew you could do whatever you wanted, but the second you thought about not being able to do something, it would all be over. You couldn't say how you knew, you just did. While you still had control over your power, the vines came away from the mast, which had fused back together, and twisted together into one large vine. Moving as if it had a mind of its own, it wrapped around the tail of the harpoon and pulled it out, the hole left by the removal rapidly repairing itself. The vine whipped around, tossing the projectile back where it came from. There was a loud, sharp impact, followed by the entire front of the rock-face crumbling and falling into the sea with a roar. 

The vines dried up and crumbled, leaving the mast without a single trace of where it was broken. The light that enveloped the mast flickered out at the same time you fell forward, face colliding with the deck. This was beyond exhaustion. High reward comes with high cost. The cost in this case was passing out instantly. The amount of power that you'd let forth was more than you could withstand, having not practiced enough, or at all, since you were discovering new things only in extenuating circumstances. 

——————————————————————————

A blistering heat beat down on you, too dehydrated and sunburnt to move. You were so hungry. How long had it been? Your body was in screaming pain constantly for the first few days. You couldn't move then due to the injuries, and now you couldn't move because you were too weak from not being able to move in the first place to get nourishment. If you had enough liquid in your body, your wounds would be oozing and pulsating, surely infected by now, but you barely had blood pressure enough to be conscious.

Why were you sliding? There was something wet and hot on your hands. It hurt. Opening your eyes was too much of a struggle. You were being dragged somewhere, by the mouth of a creature. The teeth weren't sharp at least, most of them anyway. When you stopped moving, you were lying on something very lumpy, very uncomfortable. There was a sweet smell in the air. You felt around. There were different objects, most small, underneath you. Some were squishier than others. Bringing one to your face, you gave it a cursory sniff. FOOD! Your eyes snapped open, one with excruciating pain that instantly brought tears to the surface. You gorged yourself on the fruit, eating until you felt like you would throw up, in case this was the only food you would get your hands on for a while. One of the fruits was particularly delicious, though, oddly, only for the first bite. The rest of it tasted disgusting.

The next time you opened your eyes, there were golden ones staring back at you, hot breath steaming up your face, with tusks on either side of your head. Scrambling to get away from the beast, you didn't even notice that you had energy and you were't hurting anymore. To this day you weren't sure whether Mini was trying to help you or if you were in her food pile because you were food. She saved your life either way. And you learned that if you followed her around, you could poach fruit from her pile, occasionally trying to pay her back when you could afford to. Sometimes you wondered what would have happened if she had been the one to eat the devil fruit.

Abruptly, your dream changed and you were back in the underbelly of the ship, pressed up against the wall with Kid behind you. You were living through a replay of your adventures with the officers from the other day. When you blinked, without warning, the wall shifted until it was the floor and you were held down, clothes being hastily yanked off. The faces of the Kid Pirates morphed into the ones of your captors. This wasn't a dream. This was a nightmare. 

This was the first night of your captivity. You expected what was about to happen. It was not hard to guess what sort of agony they would put you through as a woman on a ship full of men. There was no way you could mentally prepare for it, but you had wished for more time to regardless. The first night you had fire in your veins and you fought like hell, repeatedly kicking people off you, biting them, punching, scratching, anything you could do. But they were persistent and had more numbers than you had energy. 

Warthin sneered down at you, "You want to free all our merchandise? Fine. But your body will be replacing them. All of them." 

"At least put me on my stomach so I don't have to look at your ugly, repulsive faces." You spat. "Couldn't take me in a fair fight so you resort to this? Cowardly. Pathetic."

He landed a heavy boot on your neck. "Cowardly and pathetic is hiding in the shadows and ambushing marine ships."

"It's called a strategy and you're mad that it worked," your voice was strained under the weight on your neck. "You could never be half the captain that I am."

"That you were." He increased the weight pressing down with emphasis on the last word.

You were gasping for air. Maybe if you could taunt him some more, you would pass out and didn't have to be conscious for what was going to follow. 

He took his foot off. "I know what you're doing. I want you to be conscious for this. Van Kossa likes when you scream." 

"Speak the devil's name and he shall appear." You turned to see Van Kossa standing just outside your holding cell, Giemsa at his side. "Testing merchandise is my favorite part." The cell door opened and they stepped in. 

Your eyes bored into his. "You will regret this. My journey will not end in this cell nor on this ship."  You tried once more to free yourself from the hands that held you down. "I will hunt you all down and rip you limb from limb. I fucking promise you that!" 

Van Kossa was on top of you, pressing himself against you. "Come now. Let me look at those pretty eyes." He turned your head to force you to look at him. "You know I like the hate burning behind them. It really turns me on." 

"Get off of me. You're a disgrace to marines." You heard the clinking of a belt being undone.

"You would know more about that than I."

You shuddered as you felt his disgusting hands defile your skin. You forced your mind to be somewhere else as he told his goons to hold your legs farther apart for him. It was easy to ignore. He had a comically small cock. Must be why he was so eager to show off his 'power' over you. 

"If you're good, I might just keep you for us," he taunted. "I'll ruin you."

You hadn't noticed you were laughing until he hit you across the face. "Ruin me for who? A fucking ant?" Blood pooled in your mouth.

"Shut up, whore!" 

You spit on him, bloody flecks dotting his enraged face. A spark of hope lit within you when he got off you and stormed out of the cell. You must have hurt his feelings.

"Not even worth raping. Do whatever you want with her."

The spark was snuffed out rather fast. Because it turned out everyone else down there did not hold that same opinion. And unfortunately none of them had microdicks either. It wasn't so easy to tune it out. Try as you might, you couldn't keep from screaming either, as they got more and more violent with their actions. At least it was you and not some poor girl that they had stolen. You doubted many had lived through this initiation to be sold later. This was probably held special for you. You were strong. You could fight and kill. You could survive. 

——————————————————————————

You were screaming when you opened your eyes, trying to sit up and being unable to do so, limbs fighting against restraints. The nightmare fogged your mind and you weren't sure if you were still asleep or not. Your ankles and wrists were held down, pointed to the four corners of the bed, just as you had been held down that first night. Were you still there? Was everything up until now a dream? You were trapped again, shaking as fear ripped through you. Hot tears ran down your face and your heart was racing so quickly you couldn't breathe. It was dark and you were alone. In your panic, you forgot about your devil fruit, or you didn't think you had one at all. 

Someone heard you, or was coming to check on you, because you heard the door open. There was still a purgatory between the nightmare and reality that you were trapped in. All you could tell was that there were two male voices. The light from the doorway gave them an outline and no face. The light was obscured as someone else came in. You pulled at the restraints harder.

"Get away from me," you growled. 

You could feel one of the shapes hesitate and then come closer.

"Don't you fucking touch me. I'll bite your dick off just like the last guy." You were shivering, not because you were cold, but in anticipation of your skin crawling with someone's touch. You didn't respond to your name when it was called. Your body hyper-vigilant, ready to strike if given an opportunity, much like a sea snake, your namesake. You jerked when you felt a hand on your shoulder. "I said keep your filthy fucking hands off me," your voice went high-pitched and broke at the end. 

You felt the shackles come off simultaneously. Coiled and ready to strike, your muscles tensed. Listening for movement, you planned to attack whoever was closest to you. You didn't hear anything, yet arms enveloped you from behind, very strong arms. You bucked and kicked and screamed until a hand covered your mouth.

"It's me. Stop!" The voice seemed familiar. It had to be a trick. 

Finally, the lights came on and you calmed down a little. It wasn't a cell. It wasn't a marine ship. The people with you were Kid Pirates, four of the most notorious ones. One of them had a black eye and another had bruising around his nose, like it was recently broken. You had all your clothes on. The only thing that hurt was your head. 

The captain sent the two with bruises out of the room, telling them he and Killer could handle it. That was who was holding you, Massacre Soldier Killer. He spoke softly, kindly by your ear, "I'm gonna put you down but you have to stop fighting." 

You nodded and he set you to sit on the edge of the bed. You pulled your knees to your chest and sobbed quietly into them. You had fully believed you were back in the holding cell. A hand gingerly settled on your back, rubbing it. Killer was softly telling you where you were and what had happened, drawing you out of the panicked state you were in. Not surprisingly, it was Kid's poor judgement that decided to strap you down to his bed. With your concussion, you were out cold, imprisoned in your own mind. The nightmares you normally woke up from were on repeat. You could only remember the most recent one, but according to them, you had been thrashing around so much in the gurney, Kid was worried you were going to keep falling out and hurt your head worse. The bruises on Heat and Wire were courtesy of you. It took all four of them to strap you down. Even then, you managed to land hits on them. It worked briefly. You had calmed down for several hours. Then you were right back at it. It was hard to watch, which was why they left you alone, waiting by the door in case you woke up. They just didn't expect you to wake up like this. It wasn't their fault, they didn't know your whole past.

Next Chapter

[feyd-meowtha]

Once he was done he stepped down off the stage, nodding at Rosie who had gone to take his place. His hair was wet with perspiration as he waded through the crowd, hands reaching out towards him, strange faces telling him he did a good job grabbing at his shirt and tearing at his hair, but he felt at peace. Over the last hour and a half Bucky had almost forgotten about Gale and Uli and Brady, his focus back inside himself for the first time in weeks, truly centred. Gale ruined all of that just by existing.  Bucky’s heart did a strange, lurching thing as their eyes met, Gale tucked into the back corner of the room and seemingly alone. He had done some shopping since he started getting paid and he looked good, decked out in a navy shirt and light-wash jeans. When he got closer, Bucky saw that he was wearing someone’s old bowling shirt, several sizes too big and cropped at the bottom, the raw hem hanging just below the top button of his jeans. Dale was embroidered on the front pocket in swooping red letters and Bucky had to smile at that. Then he imagined how it would look when Gale reached up, the hem rising just enough to show just a shiver of toned midriff. In spite of the fact that Bucky was burning up, he shivered.  “Hey,” he said, leaning close to be heard over the din of the music. Gale looked surprised but he didn’t flinch away, that was something.

(Ch 6/?, 41,948 words, please heed the tags!)

[partywiththedevildude]

Tianshan really out here cockblocking Zhanyi left and right

[turtleblogatlast]

[ cw: experimentation / slight body horror implications / ]

Every time I think of the “Bad Hair Day” episode, I’m always a little thrown off by how off-putting it is when looked at from a distance. Like, in that episode Leo is just wanting time to rest for once. That’s it. He just wants some rest and relaxation.

And he’s so desperate to get it that he makes a deal with some random guy to basically uh. Be experimented on. In a way that definitely doesn’t seem all that pleasant in the process!

But hey, at least it works out well and Leo’s happy with it, right?

Then, finally thinking he’s getting the rest he worked for, he instead essentially becomes a host for a parasite that is embedded into his skull. And gets blamed for the actions of the adult that took advantage of his wish for rest.

Like????? I can’t help but feel just a touch of horror at the theming here. Leo just wanted a trip to the spa…

[bubbleteasing]

Heads up!

I took myself on a little (and much needed) last minute vacation with my family, so I won't be updating anything in the following days.

But! I have been getting new ideas!!!!

I already had a very angsty fic in the works that I planned to start posting after finishing 2x1 and butb but this vacation gave me the inspo I needed to write an additional fic with classic Sans...