#tw self injury mention

[pfhwrittes]

another part of my silly little werewolf au (that i will work on properly at some point) for you all.

TW: alcohol mention, minor self injury (reader chews on their paws), accidental voyeurism, fantasies of violence. 

author's note: let me know if i've missed any trigger warnings please!

--

they’re still here, the strangers that have made themselves comfortable in your territory. there are traces of them everywhere. the scent of an unfamiliar cologne and metal lingering in the air of the corner shop, an echo of the mohawked man’s laugh from the pub garden reaching your ears as you collect sticky abandoned glasses from what was formerly ed’s booth, the weight of four pairs of eyes on you as you pull pints or pour glasses of wine for the locals. 

you know why they’re here. even if they don’t know that you know. 

it makes your gums itch.

for the first time in a long time you stay home the night of the full moon, curled up tight in a ball on your bed, your nose tucked under your tail. you long to lope through the fields at the edge of the village, to snap at rabbits with their stuttering fearful heartbeats, to howl long and lonesome at the moon - calling for your family, your pack. 

your ears twitch irritably and you move to lick and gnaw at your front paw. the human side of your brain sighs knowing full well that come dawn you’ll be patching up raw knuckles and the tender broken skin of your wrist. it could be worse, you could shred your pillow. again. feathers are a bitch to get out from between your teeth. 

the sound of two voices drift through the thin pane of glass of your bedroom window and your lip curls around a low rumbling growl. interlopers. their voices are low, indistinct as they snoop through the neighbour’s front garden. the growl in your chest kicks up as you catch a snatch of their conversation. 

“for fucks sake, johnny. quit whinin’ and get on wiv it.” around the broad flat vowels of his accent you detect a fond sort of irritation that speaks of years of familiarity and affection.

“you’ve gotta be kiddin’ me on!” the other voice is exasperated but no less fond as its counterpart. “i’m no’ doin’ that here -” 

whatever he’s not doing becomes abundantly clear as you hear the sounds of a wet gasp and a long groan.

you snarl and bury your teeth into the softness of your pillow, letting yourself imagine that you’re sinking your fangs into an exposed abdomen as you ignore the wet slick sounds just beyond your window.

and they have the fucking nerve to call your kind animals.

-- tagging @kaadaaan

[attorney-anon-offtopic]

Crisis & Pain-Seeking Stims

So, I posted a while ago about stim toys for pain-seeking stims. I haven't found anything new, but I wanted to discuss that behavior because some of my NT friends have expressed concern that pain-seeking is a SI behavior.

For me and my autism, there are generally three types of crises that impact my ability to function: I get (what I call, anyway) overstimulated, repulsed, or overwhelmed. They can, and often do, overlap.

I get overstimulated when sensory stimulation reaches a fever pitch; I sort of feel like I'm a staticky balloon and other people (or sometimes animals or things) are pushpins that will pop me if the interact with the static field. When I am overstimulated, the answer is less stimulation, of course, but it is also different stimulation. This is where you might find me rubbing my worry stone on my bottom lip or the side of my thumb. Usually, this will last until I can change my physical state in some noticeable way, such as cooling down fully on a warm day or changing my clothes if I'm wearing a shirt with a high neckline.

I get repulsed when something causes a physical revulsion or rejection reaction in me. I feel sick to my stomach, shaky, and alarmed. When I am repulsed, the answer is to stop doing the thing that led to repulsion. Most often, for me, I get texture-repulsed by my food, and therefore have to stop eating whatever I was eating, or potentially stop eating, full stop. This is the easiest to deal with, but also the most frequent - I am extremely texture-sensitive when it comes to food.

I get overwhelmed when social situations reach a point where I cannot process how to proceed. I feel staticky, again, but not like I'm going to get popped - more like I'm overinflated and will explode. When I am overwhelmed, my go-to response is usually skin picking, especially on my face and arms. What skin picking gives me is a smaller, simpler problem to focus on: the bump I just picked now hurts. However, skin picking is maladaptive (those new sores can get infected, and continually touching one's face is NOT how one reduces hormonal acne, which I still have due to PCOS), and I know that, so I try to practice harm reduction techniques. So, what I do instead is try to find a way to create the smaller, simpler problem to focus on (pain) without the risks - hence, pain-seeking stims.

Right now, I do have a few pain-seeking solutions - I have one of those acupressure rings that looks like a metal scrunchie, a strip of rough velcro, and a little textured gyro spinner from TikTok that has rough spikes on the outside, plus I have a couple rough "calm strips" style stickers. I always want more, though, because I sort of... get used to the texture, a little. Like, it's still rough, but it's a roughness I'm used to, so I don't register the pain the same way. I have to rotate, but sometimes (like this month so far) I need it more often, so rotating doesn't work as well because I only have a few options.

Side note: I also fidget more when I'm overwhelmed, so I also have a bunch of fidget toys to keep my fingers busy.

[incyrayinc]

Somewhat more up-to-date Veri WIP reference sheet

Updated the text in the upper half to be more clear (some of my rough notes arent specific enough and rely on context that I have but you don't)

[reginalusus]

Ah yes. When the protective dad-figure beats up the son-figure's past tormentor only for said tormentor to make a point(?), because the tormentor is the catalyst of Gotham's chaos, and seeing two pieces of the debris from said chaos come together to try and be less broken is amusing. The butt of Gotham's joke, if you will.

I just felt like illustrating a scene from a possible future Harvey-Jason-centered fic...

[antikr1sta]

(tw sh/blood/vent art) "i hate it here, i hate the smell and fluorescent lights, but most of all I hate you", he utters, gazing at his own face in the reflection of a dirty mirror; as both are only hanging on by a thread.

blood/injury tw ↓

..yeah.. i really really hate it here

[schrijverr]

I Didn’t Mean to Say I Do, but I Do. I Do. 32

Chapter 32 out of 50

Secret marriage of convenience buddie slow burn AU, where Buck and Eddie have been married for years so Buck could adopt Chris and no one at the 118 knows.

In this chapter, Buck wakes up to find no one except Chris and Eddie in his hospital room, the more time passes, the more he questions why no one else is there. Eddie has to explain what went down while he was out, before another bombshell is dropped on them.

On AO3.

Ships: Buddie (slow burn)

Warnings: ableism mention, emotionally abusive parents mention, insecurity, self loathing, injury, homophobia mention, referenced near death experience

~~~

Chapter 32: Breaking the News

Buck feels groggy and bone tired as he tries to pull himself to consciousness. A part of his brain registers beeping and the sterile smell of a hospital – which he is very familiar with due to the line of work he’s in, his kid and the injury prone people he surrounds himself with – but it’s not yet connecting that to what that might mean.

He is yanked out of his limbo by Chris, who half clambers on top of him as he yells: “Papi! You’re awake!”

Behind him, he can hear Eddie call out: “Mijo, be careful! He’s hurt,” while Buck fully opens his eyes and clicks the pieces together that he’s in the hospital, because he’s hurt.

Once he has the realization that he’s injured, the dull ache that comes with being medicated hits him with full force. He hasn’t been in a hospital like this since he was a teen, but he still knows the feeling well and gathers that he’s broken a bone at least.

With momentous effort he moves his arm, hugging Chris to his chest as he lazily croaks: “Hey, buddy.”

“You’ve been asleep for forever,” Chris complains. “It was so boring.”

“Because he had to rest,” Eddie explains, with a gentle tone that informs Buck he’s explained it a hundred times before, as he appears on Buck’s other side. He holds a glass of water so Buck can drink with a: “Here.”

“Thanks,” Buck smiles, taking a sip. He knows that he got stuck under that engine, but he barely remembers anything after he was pulled out from under it, except the blinding pain. He desperately wants to know what happened, but he doesn’t want to traumatize Chris by asking.

Oblivious to his inner turmoil, Chris happily says: “But he’s done resting now, right?”

Eddie, however, is a little more in tune with Buck, so he says: “Well, he’s not done resting, but he can be awake for a little bit. But he’d probably like a snack for breakfast, so why don’t you and Carla go pick out a chocolate bar for him?”

Chris pulls a thinking face for a moment, considering the request from his perch on the bed next to Buck. On the one hand, picking out a chocolate bar is fun and a highly important task to a seven year old, on the other hand, he doesn’t want to leave Buck’s side.

Buck’s heart melts a little and under different circumstances, he would have loved nothing more than to keep Chris there, but he does really want to know the verdict. So, to encourage Chris, he says: “You know daddy has horrible breakfast taste.”

That makes Chris giggle and he whispers way too loud to actually be a whisper: “He does, he wanted a Bounty.”

“Oh, that is bad,” Buck agrees, pulling a face, wanting to muffle his laughter and failing.

“Yeah, yeah, I can hear you,” Eddie mock complains, as he moves to lift Chris off the bed. “Go have better taste than me, huh, buddy.”

“Don’t worry, daddy, I’ll find you something better too,” Chris informs him cheerily with a bit of little shit thrown in, before he and Carla leave the room.

For a second, Buck meets Eddie’s eyes, the two of them sharing a fond smile at Chris’s antics, before reality sets in again. Scared and tentative, Buck says: “I, uh- I remember it being bad. What did the doctors say?”

Eddie hesitates for a second. Eddie never hesitates like that, so Buck braces for the worst. “Uhm, well, you’re now the proud owner of one titanium rod and four cobalt-chromed screws. Surgery went okay for how you were looking coming in. They’re expecting you to walk again.”

Relief washes over him, mixing in with confusion. “But that’s great, right? Why are you still looking like you got sentenced to the gallows?”

“It got pretty close for a second there,” Eddie admits, looking shaken. The only time he ever looked like that is the day Buck met him at the Johnson farm. Softly he says: “They nearly amputated, you’re gonna have chronic pain for the rest of the life. You’re gonna walk, but they’re not sure if you’re gonna work, Buck.”

“Wh- What?” Buck chokes as he struggles to place the information.

Remembering the accident, he knew it was bad, I mean, he got tossed out of an exploding fire engine that then landed on him. He assumed it would be bad, further confirmed by Eddie sending Chris away to break the news, but that… that is a lot.

He’s been in a lot of accidents, but he’s always come out unscathed. It’s ridiculous with the line of work he’s in, with what he sees every day, but a part of him never believed something truly bad could actually happen to him, yet here he is, faced with the reality that that just isn’t how the world works.

If he’s honest with himself, it’s not even the chronic pain part or the nearly amputated that gets to him. He knows that chronic pain is nothing to sniff at, and he’s absolutely not looking forward to figuring out how bad it’s going to get, and while loosing a leg would have been a massive adjustment, it’s not the end of the world. No, what gets to him is that they’re not sure he’s gonna work again.

When Eddie says it, he knows it’s about firefighting. Both of them know that this is his job. He might have only started because it was the best option with his level of education and the income they needed, but he fell in love with it.

Buck is a firefighter to the core.

It’s not as if he’s only a firefighter of course, he’s a father, a brother, a friend, even a husband – though he tries not to think about the last one too much, because it always messes with his heart – but those are personal. In his profession, a firefighter is all he wants to be.

But just because he wants to be that, doesn’t mean he’ll get to. The doctors aren’t sure he’s going to work again. If he wants to be a firefighter, he’ll need to re-certify after an injury like this and he might never make the cut again.

Then he’ll have to find another job. A new job. A job he’ll probably hate, or at least won’t be as good as what he has now. He’s done it before, many times already, but the thought alone is still enough to make him feel ill.

“Hey, don’t- don’t do that. They’re not sure, with your stubbornness, who knows what will happen,” Eddie snaps him back to the room. It’s a little stilted and stunted, but he means it.

Buck is sure his eyes are still devastated, but he manages a watery smile: “Yeah, you’re right. I mean, we’re practically PT experts at this point, right?”

“Yeah, Chris is already excited about giving you all the tips.” There is a clear relief in Eddie’s voice when Buck reacts like that instead of breaking down into tears, something Buck would make fun of him for just a little, if he weren’t still feeling so fragile.

“Can’t wait,” he says, trying to mean it and semi-succeeding.

Before they can get into it more, Chris and Carla return triumphantly with arms full of vending machine snacks. The second he sees him, his enthusiasm and smile become real. “Oh wow, Superman, that’s quite the haul. Lemme figure out these buttons so I can sit up.”

Chris proudly shows off the candy and chocolate, going into great detail about why he chose the things he did. Buck has never found any other talk more interesting than this one. Whatever will happen with his job, this at least, will still be here. He won’t lose his family.

He eats his chocolate bar with Chris squeezed in beside him. He still feels a little groggy and maybe a little scared too, but he’s managing pretty well all things considered.

After a bit a doctor comes by to check on him. He doesn’t know her, but Eddie seems like he does, giving her an awkward half smile. When Buck sees that he quirks a brow at him, curious why she’s getting that reaction, but Eddie only gives him a shake of the head, before he nods to tell Buck he needs to pay attention to what she’s doing.

Then Eddie quickly leaves the room with Chris for a bathroom trip and a coffee run. Tea for Buck, since he’s not allowed coffee yet.

When the doctor is gone, Buck asks Carla: “What was up between Eddie and the doctor?” He can’t imagine what would make Eddie uncomfortable like that. Maybe he flirted with her? Or vise versa and it didn’t go well? But that seems out of character. Still, it’s not entirely unplausible and the thought knots his stomach.

“I wasn’t there for it, but when she came to break the news about you, it got ugly in the waiting room, especially when she suggested they’d amputate,” Carla tells him.

Not what he expected, but better than he feared. Eddie was probably upset at the thought or something, or angry on his behalf that this was his fate and now likely feels awkward about what was a messy altercation about it. The thought makes him feel warm and his stomach untangles itself.

He smiles at Eddie when he comes back into the room. Eddie studies him for a second, before deciding it looks genuine and he returns the smile. As always, the sight of that smile makes Buck’s heart flip and he hates the heartbeat monitor he’s hooked up with for giving that away as he blushes and quickly focuses on Chris to avoid having to look at Eddie.

Some awkwardness keeps lingering and Buck focuses primarily on Chris as to not talk about it. He also naps some here and there, which is still very boring according to Chris, but he lets him doze. At some point, Carla leaves and a bit later Buck gets an actual meal in the form of lunch.

By the time lunch is gone and the afternoon is creeping in, he finds himself wondering where Maddie is. He can understand she had to work or organize her own stuff in the morning. He also didn’t show up until the afternoon when she was in the LA hospital after Doug, but it’s already getting late and he hasn’t heard from her at all.

The others not being there is also a little weird, but they have their own families to go home to after being in an explosion and maybe there is paperwork to be done around the incident or something. So, he doesn’t question them not being there, while Eddie is (the thought of Eddie and Chris not being there never even crossed his mind). But Maddie’s absence is weird.

So, he asks: “Where’s Maddie? I half thought she would have been hovering already.”

The joke is to cover the hurt. He can’t remember a serious injury Maddie wasn’t there for. It’s how it’s supposed to go, her being there because he got hurt. He half expected the others there too, everyone waited for Chim to wake up. Maybe his injury wasn’t serious enough? Was that it? It felt serious, but comparatively, he might be blowing it out of proportion? It’s just a broken leg after all, they see worse every day, no matter how scared he’d been at the time.

That is before he sees Eddie’s face. It shutters for a second, pain being reflected in those beautiful eyes of his, before they become blank. He tugs Chris onto his lap and seems way more interested in adjusting him than looking at Buck as he says: “She had to go home. They were all there until you got out of surgery, but there was an explosion, you know. They went home to rest. Athena said she’d and Bobby would come by later. So did Hen.”

It’s a weak excuse and Eddie’s heart isn’t in it. Buck can easily make out that there is something wrong, very wrong. A bit sharper, he asks: “Eddie, what happened?”

Eddie stares at the top of Chris’s head for a moment, as if that will change anything. Chris just looks confused, eyes flicking from Buck to Eddie, then back. If Buck had known it would be a serious conversation, he wouldn’t have started it in front of him, but he’s started it and now that he knows there is information to know – information to explain why no one is there – he is desperate to know.

When the silence drags on and Eddie figures out Buck isn’t going to break it, he finally looks up and says: “I’m your medical next of kin, Buck. I got to make the call on what happened to you when you were in surgery. Maddie wanted to make a different call, but as your husband, my opinion was the only one that counted. Everyone was there for that conversation.”

He brings it delicately enough that Chris doesn’t pick up on the intricacies, but with enough clarity that Buck immediately knows what happened; they’re busted.

“Oh. That’s not good.”

Eddie laughs humorlessly. “Yeah, you can say that. Bobby, uhm- he wasn’t pleased. He has to appear in front of the LAFD brass today. He’s still waiting on the verdict of his suspension and now this has come on top of it.”

Buck’s heart sinks at the news. Both knew they were taking a risk when they started lying at work, but that was always meant to be just the two of them, who were taking that risk. Now it’s the whole station, especially Bobby, that are jeopardized. No wonder no one is there, he’s about to lose them all their jobs.

The thought of everyone turning against him, against them, makes him paralyzed with fear. He loves the 118, the family he made there. Sure, he had tía Pepa and Abuela, but they have always been Eddie’s side of the family, in a way, the 118 was his side, before he had Maddie.

But now he has neither.

A part of him can’t help but be incredibly disappointed that this was what was too much for Maddie, that this is what made her run. Again.

Buck knows that they hadn’t spoken in years before she came back into his life and that they’ve had their ups and downs. They promised no more lies and Buck broke that. He broke the trust they had just rebuilt, but he at least expected her to be here to yell at him about it. Not this.

He is crushed. He fucked it all up. He just got her back and now he’s pushed her away. All he wanted to do was spare her the headache of keeping the secret, but now it’s out in the open and he lost her.

However, he can’t feel like that right now. There is still a chance he can make it right with Maddie, explain his side, grovel, apologize, try to make it up to her. He doesn’t know if he can make it up to the others, but he has hope about maybe Maddie and that is something he needs to cling to, because he can’t break down when Chris is right there.

So, he plasters on a grin and says: “Well, hopefully our news heroics swing it in our favor. I remember the cameras, do you think they got my good side?”

For a moment Eddie looks as if he can’t believe Buck just said that with all the deep shit they’re in, which gets wiped off and replaced with understanding the second Chris giggles. “Of course it will, papi, you’re the best heroes.”

“Ahw, thank you, Superman,” Buck smiles, the expression feeling more real and less strained. “Want to show me the drawing you’ve been working on?”

Chris happily clambers off Eddie’s lap to return to his place on Buck’s bed to show him his drawing. Meanwhile Eddie gets up to stare out of the window. Buck wishes he could make it better, but he can’t do anything from his place in the hospital bed. All they can do is wait until they get word from the brass. If Eddie feels the need to brood while they wait, he can brood.

They have to leave when the night comes, but Eddie promises he and Chris will be back the next day, so he won’t be alone. Eddie offers to ask for a cot so they can stay there, but Buck tells him to go home. Chris being properly supported while he sleeps is more important than Buck’s abandonment issues.

The next day, tía Pepa comes by too. When she comes into his room she claps her hand over her mouth as tears spring into her eyes, then she rushes forward to give him a big hug. “Oh, Buck. Are they feeding you well in here? I’ll make you some food.”

“Thank you, tía Pepa,” Buck smiles, melting into the hug. “But I’m fine, I promise. I’m gonna be out of here soon. Probably today or tomorrow.” Then he remembers he likely can’t cook when he gets back, so Eddie is on chef duty. “But maybe some food would be nice for when I get discharged.”

“I’ll make sure to bring some by when Eddie springs you,” Pepa tells him with a wink. She also knows whose cooking he’s going to be stuck with.

Chris is also excited to see his tía. Buck doesn’t know whether it’s good or bad thing that Chris feels comfortable enough in hospitals to treat this as normal. With how Eddie danced around his prognosis when Chris was in the room, he thinks Eddie shielded him from how bad Buck got hurt and how close it got. So, he probably doesn’t even realize how serious this could be.

He puts it out of his mind for now, just like he puts the lack of other visitors, lack of messages and cards or flowers, out of his mind. He has Chris and Eddie. That’s all he had for a long time and that’s enough. It has to be. It is. …Only he also misses what he had. Just a little.

Still, worrying about that seems practically inconsequential when two uniformed LAFD officers enter his hospital room. The first one identifies himself: “Firefighter Buckley, Probationary Firefighter Diaz, I’m the Chief of Staff for the LAFD, Mike Brandson, my colleague here is the Deputy Chief from HR, Miranda Halleway.”

“I’ll take Chris for a moment,” Pepa says, whisking a confused Chris away with a small frown and short: “Bye, daddy, bye papi.”

Both Buck and Eddie say bye back, because it’s important in their family to say bye. Even if both of them internally wince, because that’s not a good look for them, which is confirmed by raised eyebrows they get from Brandson and Halleway.

“We have been informed by Captain Nash that the two of you are married, but have failed to file the appropriate paperwork that would potentially allow the two of you to work together, instead choosing to lie to the department, creating an unassessed safety risk and liability in the meantime,” Brandson starts.

He levels both of them with a stern look and Buck feels a despair grip at his throat. This is already not sounding great for them.

“However, when informing us of this, Captain Nash imparted on us that this is because the two of you are not actually together,” Brandson continues. “Further clarification was not given, so we would like to know exactly what was meant by that.”

Room to explain and share their side. Neither of them had expected that and they share a quick look, before Eddie gestures to Buck to explain.

“Well, I met Eddie when I was living in El Paso in 2015, it was. I knew his ex-wife and had met Chris while he was with the army the year before. We didn’t speak much at first, but then Shannon left, signing over custody to Eddie. It’s a lot to suddenly do it alone, so I offered to help,” Buck explains. “I worked days, Eddie nights. Just friends, but co-parenting. Then Chris needed two surgeries and PT is expensive. Eddie needed to sign up for another tour to get the bills paid, but then he’d have to leave Chris with his parents and he didn’t want that.”

“Might I ask why you didn’t want that, Mr. Diaz?” Halleway cuts in, directing the question to Eddie, who’s been quietly nodding along.

Eddie’s mouth tightens into a line, before he tells them the harsh truth Buck doesn’t think he ever even admitted to himself out loud like this. “Because they’re overbearing and baby Chris to the point of debilitating him further. I want my kid to be healthy, Deputy Chief. I want him to have as much independence as he can. And I wanted to get him back when I got home. I know what they say about teen parents, but I love that kid like crazy, okay? I don’t want to lose him.”

Halleway nods, writing something down on a notepad. Neither of them know if that’s good. Buck wants to check in with Eddie after that confession, but he’s staring out of the window again, arms crossed and shoulders tight.

Buck decides to tell the story further. “Uhm, yeah, that. So, I offered to adopt Chris, you know. Take care of him while Eddie was away until he could come back and we could do it together again. He was already kind of my son too at that point.”

“And you don’t find that an offer that is unusually close for just two friends?” Halleway asks.

“No!” Buck frowns, slightly offended she’d ask that. “I like helping people, it’s one of the reasons I became a firefighter. Eddie became family, as did Chris. I didn’t have anyone back then. Maddie, my sister, only got back into my life late last year after not speaking to her since I was nineteen and I still haven’t spoken to my parents since then. Of course I was going to offer to help.”

Halleway gives him a skeptical look, but writes something down again, before asking: “And how did marriage come into play?”

“The easiest and fastest way to adopt a kid is through stepparent adoption,” Buck shrugs. “It’s not like either of us had anyone we wanted to marry, so it made sense with the time frame we had. It was convenient, nothing more. Eddie got hurt in the army, he could stay on my income while he recovered, as could Chris. Tax breaks are nice and we’re good friends. Best friends. Our plan has always been to divorce when we found someone to settle with, but we just haven’t met anyone yet.”

At that Halleway makes a soft humming sound. “So why didn’t you inform Captain Nash or the LAFD that you were married to each other?”

“You don’t have to declare marital status,” Buck tells her, a little annoyed at her attitude. “It’s part of the anti-discrimination laws. I didn’t want to have my on paper gay marriage there when I didn’t even know who I was going to be working under. Not to mention that it wasn’t a traditional marriage out of love. I am single, just legally married.”

“And when the two of you decided to lie to work together? According to Captain Nash, everyone at the 118 was under the impression, the two of you met last year at the station.”

“That might have been a bad call on our part. But our situation is complicated to explain and it’s a hassle to make people understand. It would be easier to not have to do it, but when you say you know each other, people wonder what from. We lied, because it was easier.”

“Without thinking to file a fraternization papers?”

“Why would we? We weren’t dating. Look, the two of us working together isn’t any different than other friends working together. And friends are allowed to work together, every day. We didn’t feel the need to file those papers, because they aren’t true for us now and they weren’t true for us when we started working there.” He and Eddie aren’t dating, no matter how much Buck wishes they were sometimes. They’re just married.

“Would you not state that the two of you have a connection that are different from best friends. The two of your are co-parents, are you not?”

“We are,” Buck confirms and Eddie nods sharply. “But the fraternization papers are specifically about dating a coworker, there are no specifications about raising a kid together. Are divorced couples with kids meant to file those papers? What about foster parents, who happen to get custody over the child of a coworker? There are no clear specifications, we didn’t file, because from what we could see, they didn’t apply.”

He’s gaining steam now and goes on: “Not informing anyone that we had a legal connection might not have been the best call, but it wasn’t illegal. And looking at our record, you can see that we never prioritized each other on calls. We have remained professional at the job and left our private life at home, that’s not a crime. The people we work with every single day, didn’t pick up on anything weird about our conduct on the job, until I was hospitalized and Eddie had to make a medical decision for me.”

It’s quiet for a second, then Halleway clears her throat and asks: “Do you have anything to add to Mr. Buckley’s words, Mr. Diaz?”

“No, uh, I think he said all that needed to be said,” Eddie says.

“Thank you gentlemen,” Brandson nods.

“So what will happen now?” Buck asks.

“Well, after your public injury, we won’t cut you loose, Mr. Buckley. You’re put on paid medical leave for the time being, while we investigate your claims further. There likely will be a verdict on whether or not there will be any disciplinary actions, before you’re fit to return,” Brandson tells him and Buck doesn’t inform him that he might never return.

“And what about me?” Eddie asks.

“You’re being suspended without pay, Mr. Diaz. For the coming three weeks at least while we determine whether you can continue to finish your probationary year at the LAFD.”

With that, the two LAFD officers shake their hands and say their goodbyes, before leaving Buck and Eddie in the hospital room, shaken and with an unsure future hanging over their heads.

~~

A/N:

If I look like I know how the LAFD works, I regret to inform you that I do not. Here we live of fanfic vibes, so do not take this as anything but my plot convenient whimsy! :D

[snowe-zolynn-rogers]

Pairings: None

Word Count: 1,794 Words

Summary: The solar eclipse after Solar's death has an energy to it.

Warnings: Character Death, Caps, Cursing, Overworking, Self-Hatred (from Moon, of course), Sleep Deprivation, Blood (minor), Minor Injury, Ghost, Magic, Mind Meld, Soul Bond, Sharing A Body/Brain, Pain, Nausea, let me know if I should add anything else.

Binding And Bonding

Solar woke up in an abyss. Everything around him was darkness. He could see a vague ring of light around him, lighting up the rest of his surroundings decently well. He could vaguely hear something being said into the void around him in a vaguely familiar voice but he was knocked out before he could acknowledge the voice.

-Two And A Half Weeks Earlier-

"I don't wanna go…" Solar muttered, body deteriorating and slowly disintegrating as it collapsed to the floor like his dimension likely was. Moon was quick to grab him and try to keep him steady but it wasn't any use given he couldn't feel his legs anymore.

"You don't have to!" Moon insisted, holding Solar as close as he could, Solar feeling Moon's hands slip through him as he could feel himself fading into an abyss.

"Solar? SOLAR!" Solar could vaguely hear Moon screaming as he went into a void.

-A Week Later-

"Moon, you're pushing yourself. You aren't charging or resting." Eclipse finally broke and snapped at him.

"Maybe I would if I hadn't fucked everything up!" Moon screamed back at him, too stressed to not scream at the inconveniences anymore, too focused on getting Solar back now.

"Moon, you're at a max of five percent." Eclipse reminded him.

"I'll charge when my brother is back." Moon growled venomously, eyes turning to glare that Eclipse dare interrupt him but Eclipse had gotten used to Moon being like this fairly quickly. Eclipse knew Moon would inevitably run himself down and then Eclipse could carry Moon off to bed.

Thankfully, Eclipse got that opportunity sooner rather than later as Moon stumbled and his hand hit a tray, knocking it to the floor with Moon collapsing to the floor as well a few seconds later.

Eclipse went and finally was able to scoop the poor sap up and groan at how heavy Moon was, muttering complaints about how much Moon weighed as he kicked the door to Parts & Service open for him since he was busy carrying Moon.

"You." Ruin caught Eclipse's attention before Eclipse was able to leave.

"Yeah, what about me? Want me to come in there and kill you finally?" Eclipse asked.

"No, actually. I would like you to forget Protocol 87.775.2, actually." Ruin told him and Eclipse tilted his head in question, not really knowing what Ruin was talking about.

"Forget about what?" Eclipse asked.

"Exactly! Good job! Thank you! Be on your way now!" Ruin cheerily told him and Eclipse shook his head and carried Moon up to the daycare and through the portal to the house, sighing seeing Sun's cats practically waiting for Moon, though they hissed as if they hated him anyway, but Eclipse knew the little cretins were pretending they hated Moon.

Eclipse laid Moon on the couch and put a blanket over him for the cats to crawl on top of and purr now that they knew Moon was sleeping. Eclipse chuckled at the little gremlins. They sure loved their uncle, they were purring on his unconscious body.

Eclipse plugged Moon's charging wire into the wall outlet near the couch and left to go figure out what the hell Ruin was talking about, landing at the daycare computer inevitably. It seemed the computer knew everything anyway so he may as well try.

"Nice attempt, but you are not a member of the Celestial Family." The computer told him.

"Nice joke, I actually am. But I came for answers." Eclipse told the machine.

"Whyever would I give you answers?" The computer asked.

"Ruin mentioned a protocol in me, basically asking me to delete it but I don't know what he was talking about. I will let you scan my code if you look for Protocol 87.775.2." Eclipse told the computer.

"…I will agree to these conditions, only because it may serve well for Moon." The computer agreed. Eclipse plugged himself into the computer for it to scan him and just sat back waiting, all he could do was wait. The computer was doing two things at once and it was taking a while.

Eclipse ended up falling asleep for a bit in the computer chair while the computer did its thing. However, the computer also decided to be an alarm for Eclipse as it woke him up with a loud bussing noise through his circuits.

"HEY!" Eclipse jolted awake, pulling out the cord and thoroughly startled by the computer.

"Ah, good, awake. I have found Protocol 87.775.2 as well as scanned your code." The computer told him.

"And you wake me up like your about to try giving me a controlled shock?" Eclipse snapped.

"Yes, I found it amusing." The computer would've laughed if it could, Eclipse could tell.

"Fine, what is the protocol about?" Eclipse asked.

"This protocol entails a means to what Moon has been working on. A way to undo what has been done." Eclipse scoffed at that.

"So that's why he wanted me to get rid of it. I haven't been alone in a room so he couldn't give me an order to try to get me to delete it until today." Eclipse muttered.

"Unfortunately, it is extremely difficult as it works with the essence of an energy." The computer told him.

"Tell me what I have to do."

-One Week & Four Days Later-

Eclipse walked into the room Solar had died in. He had finally made good on getting everything else ready and Sun and Moon were out with Earth and Lunar, watching the solar eclipse on the roof of the PizzaPlex.

Eclipse had chalk, blood, and a dagger. He hated this, it felt so weird. It felt so awkward to probably be the first person Solar sees when he comes back.

"Solar?" Eclipse calls to whatever remained of Solar's energy, which he had attuned himself to over the last week and a half.

"Solar." Eclipse called to Solar again, sitting down in front of where Solar died. He could feel the energy around him swirling as though Solar was trying to tell him he was there still.

"There you are." Eclipse closed his eyes, holding the chalk and drew a circle of runes with his eyes closed, following the images of runes the protocol was feeding him on the back of his eyelids. The circle was around Eclipse himself and the spot Solar died in, interlocking them.

"Solar, I can feel you. God that sounds weird." Eclipse muttered the last half. The energy jolted like it was laughing at him. "Yeah, laugh it up, idiot. Sit with me." Eclipse sighed. He could vaguely see the outline of Solar's energy sit with him.

"Thank you." Eclipse muttered, knowing he had to thank Solar. He hated that he had to. Eclipse cringed as he poured the blood on the inner ring of the rune circle, watching outside as the sky began to go dark.

"I willingly open this connection for Solar." Eclipse stated as the protocol had, cutting open his right hand with the dagger in his left dominant hand. Eclipse could see that the whisp in his vision that was Solar's energy was interested.

"Hold my hand, Solar and only Solar." Eclipse told the energy. The energy seemed to hold his hand and Eclipse sighed at the feeling, relieved Solar was just listening to him, probably out of curiosity rather than genuine willingness.

"I connect what is mine to what is yours. Wire for wire, energy for energy. I share willingly what is mine with you." Eclipse spoke evenly, making sure to read word for word.

"This day is a connection." Eclipse felt the rune light up with light, blazing as the room went completely dark. "I bind us. Mine is yours. under this light, we become connected." Eclipse lost his breath after these words of the spell, making him choke a bit as he could feel Solar's energy binding to his own, coughing to get air as he could feel his mind breaking in half, body feeling aches and pains as Solar's energy was bonding to him.

Eclipse lurched forward, nauseous as he felt Solar's AI blooming into his head, using the broken-off half of Eclipse's mind, their mind? Eclipse didn't know but he was nauseous. Animatronics weren't supposed to get nauseous. He leaned with his hands on the ground, hearing someone screaming. Was that him? Was he screaming? He still had to say the final words and get Solar to say them too.

Eclipse reached his energy into his mind, making Solar take half control with him, each having control of one half of their? body. Eclipse fed the final words into their vision to make Solar say it with him. Once Solar nodded using their head Eclipse nodded back.

"We claim the energy of the solar eclipse given to us." Both of their voices echoed and the pitch-black void of the room glowed with a peace around them, the white ring around them calmly pulsing with their energies. Eclipse finally felt a peace now as he curled up on the ground, trembling with everything that had happened, too overwhelmed to move but he had to finish it. He had to finish this. He fed to Solar in their optics the final step and words.

Solar was the one to drag their body upright again. Eclipse was shivering, Solar was shivering. The room felt cold. Everything felt cold. Solar seemed to have more force than Eclipse, Solar was learning how to share their energy.

"We undo the damage that has been done through false trust." They made sure to echo each other and Eclipse felt a bloom in his chest of the energy they claimed from the solar eclipse above in the sky still, the ring around them, practically burst into a running visual of universes coming back into being, rebuilding themselves, lives being brought back immediately, everything blooming around them in the circle of light like flowers.

Eclipse gave a soft, exhausted chuckle seeing it and seeing the sky begin to get light again. Once the ring around them finished, the warm feeling slowly dissipated and Eclipse and Solar simply collapsed onto the ground, shaking and taking deep breaths.

"Thank you." Solar whispered.

"I know." Eclipse tried to laugh but all that came out was a wheeze.

"Are you okay?" Solar asked.

"I'm exhausted." Eclipse whispered back.

"Well, you gave up your magic to bring everything back, you're probably going to be exhausted for a while." Solar sighed.

"I expect Moon to thank me, you tell him that if you wake up first." Eclipse told Solar before letting himself ease into unconsciousness, giving Solar control for a brief moment before Solar fell asleep too from being brought back and losing a lot of energy himself.

[poltertoast]

I raise you: Toast talking Ghost through a panick attack after he tried to pull off his face.

Ghost wearing masks to combat the fact that he doesn't fully identify with his own face after the puppet arc. He gets therapy for it but it still lingers about.

[typicalopposite]

𝙴𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝙸 𝚃𝚛𝚢 𝚃𝚘 𝙵𝚕𝚢 (𝙸 𝙵𝚊𝚕𝚕)

BuckTommy Fic | M | Chapter 3/7 | 5595 words

Prologue | Chapter One | Chapter Two | ao3

𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚃𝚑𝚛𝚎𝚎: 𝙸 𝚆𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝙵𝚊𝚒𝚕 𝚈𝚘𝚞 (𝚘𝚏 𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙸'𝚖 𝚂𝚞𝚛𝚎)

PLEASE READ TAGS FOR TRIGGER WARNINGS

There’s a distinct noise a body makes when it hits the ground after a significant fall. A splat— a squelch— that’s unmistakable, and sickening. Buck has heard it far more times than he’d like to think about, and yet at the moment it seems the forest has gone silent for it. Like all of nature holds its breath along with him in anticipation of that god forsaken sound. 

Buck tries to close his eyes before Tommy hits the ground, but just like a nightmare (which is what this feels like; what he wishes it were) they stay wide open. He sees everything. He sees the exact moment the sound happens; this time up close and far more personal than any other. There is just a moment more of silence—like the universe is paying its respects for what it has just done—then all the noise comes flooding back. 

Buck stops moving—he can’t get any closer. He tries to take in a breath and it catches halfway. The air is suddenly too thick, and too hot… and uthere’s a good chance he’s going into shock. 

Tommy’s body is contorted in a way that’s not too gruesome, but enough that it’s clearly not natural. There’s no way—Buck can’t break his eyes away from his body, as much as he desperately wants to—but it looks like he is still breathing. He knows it’s just a cruel trick of the eye; dead bodies appearing to breathe. There's just no way. Buck finally looks away. 

Again he tries to take a breath; again he doesn’t get in much air before the flow is stopped by the ever tightening of his chest. There’s also a chance he could be having a heart attack. Bobby did, from the stress he was under… and this very well might have that stress beat. 

“Oh god…” he chokes out, voice strangled by the bile rushing up into his throat. He feels like he might be sick, or maybe pass out, and he desperately needs to scream or cry… or both… or all of the above. His head feels like it might explode… the amount of guilt and anger and grief filling it is just too much. 

There’s a soft rustling of leaves. So soft he almost misses it; his head is spinning so fast and his ears are buzzing so loud, he’s surprised he’s even still standing, much less able to pick up on random noises. He hears the rustling again. It’s coming from the direction of Tommy’s body. It could be an animal… he needs to look back. 

Tommy’s hand is moving. 

His fingers are curling into the leaves and twigs then stretching back out. Buck thinks it might just be nerves… because there’s no way— Tommy sucks in a deep breath, then groans. “Oh my god!” Buck gasps, his knees finally giving out and he collapses to the ground. Tommy is breathing; it’s ragged, and each breath in his face twists like it hurts to do so… but he is definitely breathing. 

His hand closes around the foliage again. He opens his mouth and exhales sharply: “Eh… ehh…v…” he manages, slowly turning his head to the side, before sucking in another pained breath. “Ev… Ev!” Buck gasps, scrambling across the ground to Tommy’s side.

He very gently, very carefully, slides his hand under Tommy’s, and the bloody hand grabs on weakly. “Hey— hey,” Buck says, hovering his body over Tommy’s. The non swollen eye is still closed; the other one crusted over. 

“Ev’n,” Tommy manages, his hand opening and closing around Buck’s. Blood trails run down his cheeks from his nose. His lips are dark red, teetering towards purple, likely from the lack of oxygen he’s getting from the staggered breathing. 

“Tommy,” Buck whispers, bringing his other hand up to Tommy’s cheek. He’s so scared to touch him, he doesn’t know what’s broken, or bruised, or sore. He would hate himself if he hurt him more than he can only imagine he already is… more than he already has…  Tommy doesn’t move, Buck holds his breath, fearing the worst has caught up to them. Oh how typical would it be if the universe let him live just to take him right after; literally right out of Buck’s hands… But he can still see the shallow breaths. He’s still here, for now. “Hey… I’m here. I’m— I’m right here. I’m with you…” 

Slowly the good eye cracks open—that’s such an understatement… it’s just the only one that can open. He blinks it a couple times before the eye turns and looks at Buck. It widens, the corners of his lips turning up every so slightly, and he lets out a sigh, squeezing Buck’s hand. “Bu— B- Bu— K..” 

Maybe you should just stick with Buck…

“Hey, no… no don’t—” Buck squeezes Tommy’s hand back, carefully bringing it up his lips, he kisses over the swollen knuckles. “It’s Evan… please… it’s still Evan…” That gets him as much of a smile as Tommy can manage across his swollen face; his thumb grazes slowly across Buck’s cheek, catching a tear. 

“‘M… s’rry…” 

“For— for what?! You didn’t— It’s me who should be apologizing…”

Tommy jerks his head back and forth. “No… ‘m s’rry…” His eye stares up at Buck, tears welling up in it until he blinks and it topples over.

“Okay, okay… it’s okay,” Buck says, a soft laugh escaping as he clings to Tommy’s hand. “We can work on apologies and who should and shouldn’t give them later…” He looks around, not even sure how far from a clearing they are. “Right now I just have to— I have to get you out of here…” But he can’t even remember the direction his Jeep is in— much less how he’s supposed to get Tommy back to it—he was just running so wildly in his panic. 

He removes his hand from Tommy’s cheek and goes into his pocket for his phone. No signal. There's a creak from above him, and he looks up at the helicopter. His first thought: there’s no way to get up to the radio; second thought, the radio is probably broken anyway; third thought, the helicopter is creaking… it’s falling… It’s going to fall, right on top of Tommy. 

Shit. 

If there is one thing Hen and Chimney has ingrained in his head about fall injuries… you don’t move them without a neck brace and backboard… and you definitely don’t move them by yourself. Another creak and suddenly those teachings seem to matter far less. He looks down at Tommy, who is still staring up at him with his one glassy eye; still almost smiling through the swelling and the blood; still clinging to his hand. 

“I— I have to…” he says, and Tommy squeezes his hand, gives him the slightest nod. Buck might have only imagined it, but he nods back, and moves until he’s at Tommy’s head. “Okay…” he whispers, letting go of Tommy’s hand, to hook his arms under Tommy’s. “Okay, one… two…” a louder creak, the helicopter shifts. “Three!” Buck screams and pulls Tommy across the ground. He sucks in as much air as his body will allow and grunts, his eye screws shut. 

It’s not nearly far enough. 

Buck moves back and again—as carefully, but as quickly as he can—pulls Tommy with him. He does this until they are far enough away from the helicopter it won’t affect them in a fall; and fall it does. 

There's another loud creak and the helicopter comes crashing right down onto the spot still covered in Tommy’s blood. Buck throws himself over Tommy’s body to shield it from the debris that is thrown at them from the crash, but they are otherwise fine. “Oh my— oh my god…” Buck gasps, looking back at the wreckage. If the radio wasn’t busted before… It is now. He looks at Tommy; he’s still breathing. Buck could cry… he is barely breathing, but still breathing. His eye is still closed, and Buck touches his cheek. “Hey— hey, just— just stay with me okay?” Tommy cracks it just enough to look at him a moment before letting it fall back closed. Buck laughs. He breathes a sigh, and checks his phone again… still no signal. 

It would take a miracle for them to be found, he thinks… then off in the distance, he hears the faint whirring of a propeller. 

“There’s no way,” he mumbles to himself. Looking up through the cracks in the treetops, as the sound intensifies… They are about to pass over. “You hear that?!” He laughs, looking down at Tommy. His eye is closed, and he doesn’t open it again, but he does squeeze Buck’s hand. “I’m gonna— I’m going to go try to flag them down… I’ll be right back,” Buck says, bringing Tommy’s hand up to his lips before gently laying it down on his chest. 

He pushes up to his feet, his legs still wobbly, and runs over to the wreckage. There’s a fairly big opening from the helicopter coming through, but he wonders if it’s big enough. The helicopter gets closer, the propellers louder, until it’s about to pass over the opening. Buck already knows his neck is going to go stiff from looking up so long but he doesn’t care, and starts screaming and flailing his arms. 

It passes over. 

He screams louder. Jumps up and down right on his bad leg. He’s sure he’ll feel that later, too, but he couldn’t care less right now. He just hopes they saw the opening; saw him. 

They did. 

The helicopter comes back to the opening and hovers. “Hey! Hey— yeah here. He’s— he’s here!” The door opens, and a ladder drops. McCarty pokes his head out, then turns and starts to climb down. The helicopter lowers enough the ladder is almost at the ground, just low enough that McCarty can safely hop off. “Oh god, I can’t— thank god…” Buck exclaims, teetering back; McCarty grabs him before he falls. 

“Whoa there, kid… you good?” 

Buck nods, points back to Tommy, then starts running back without warning. “Tommy,” he calls towards him. “Tommy! They— they’re here. McCarty’s—”

The rise and fall of his chest has stopped. 

The rise and fall of his chest has stopped. 

“Tommy!?”

“Holy shit…” he hears McCarty gasp from behind him. 

“Tommy!” Buck drops to the ground, and takes his hand back; it falls, limp. “No! Tommy… they— they’re here! P- Please…” 

“Collier…” McCarty says into his walkie, his voice solemn. “Take that clearing… we’re— we’re gonna need all hands… to— to move Kinard’s—”

“No!” Buck screams back over his shoulder. “He’s— he’s not— I just have to— I’m starting compressions!” Gently he turns Tommy’s body so it’s flat—as flat as he can get it considering… He wonders how much more damage his body can take, and CPR isn’t a gentle technique by any means. He starts it anyway. 

“Kid,” McCarty says, laying a hand on his shoulder after the first set and Tommy’s still not breathing. “Buckley,” he says more sternly after the second. 

“He’s alive!” Buck gasps! Looking back at McCarty. “I— I don’t know how… but he… he survived the fall.”

“The fall?” 

Buck nods, going back to blow air into Tommy’s lungs. The smell, and taste, of blood is so strong it’s making him feel sick. He finally feels air blow back. “See! See- see- see! He’s— he’s breathing!” Buck sits back on his heels, pointing frantically at Tommy’s chest; the rise and fall much slower this time… but once again there. 

“I’ll be damned… he’s— hell…” McCarty gasps, staring at Tommy in disbelief, he opens the neck brace he brought down with him and Buck helps him get it around Tommy’s neck. “Collier! Have you landed her yet?” McCarty says into his walkie. 

“Affirmative. We’re heading in now,” Collier replies. 

McCarty runs his fingers through his short cropped hair, and laughs. “Make it quick, sir… he’s alive!” 

“Come again?” 

“Tommy is alive! But he’s in pretty rough shape, we’re gonna have to be quick.” 

Buck leans over Tommy, touching his face. “Hey, did you hear that? They’re coming!” He slides his hand back into Tommy’s; it's limp, so Buck squeezes it instead. “You’re getting out of here…” He waits, hoping Tommy will open his eye again, but he doesn't. It’s okay… he tells himself, at least he’s breathing.

He looks up when he hears the crunch of feet on the leaves and twigs. Collier walks up to McCarty, looks down at Tommy in shock. “You— you sure he’s—”

“Yes sir… he’s breathing.” 

Two more firefighters are right behind him holding the backboard. Buck doesn’t recognize them. They are young, likely new; Tommy had mentioned getting a few recruits. One — their name tag says, Dominguez — looks around Collier and McCarty at Tommy’s body and pales. The other — Hicks — tears up and has to turn her eyes away.  

“Come on you two…” Collier snaps. “Get it together and get over there!” They quickly straighten up and run over to Tommy. Buck moves back, letting them do their job, even if every fiber of his being is itching to help them. McCarty and Collier join them, and in no time Tommy is strapped to the backboard, lifted up between the four of them. They all but run past Buck, in the direction they came and he doesn’t hesitate to follow after them. 

Dominguez climbs in and they feed the board through the door, carefully laying it on the gurney and securing it. Then Hicks climbs in, immediately going for blood pressure cuffs, and IVs. Collier radios into the hospital that they are coming in, then back to the station that they have him. Buck can hear someone talking back, their voice frantic… but he’s too busy staring at the empty seat next to where McCarty just sat down. 

“Can— can I?” He asks, knowing he doesn’t deserve this right; knowing Tommy’s team might not give it to him. 

Collier looks out at him from the pilot’s seat. “What about your vehicle?” Buck quickly shrugs; the forest rangers could keep it for all he cares. “Alright, make room,” he yells behind him. McCarty surprisingly smiles, and clears the free seat. Dominguez and Hicks give each other a look, but go straight back to working on Tommy. 

Buck sits quietly, watching them hook up a couple lines; getting him started on fluids, and oxygen. Dominguez uses a wet wipe on the swollen eye, and then pulls it open once the crust is cleaned off. He shines the light over both. “Both pupils are reactive,” he says, and Buck lets out the breath he didn’t realize he was holding. Hick looks up at him, not even trying to hide the scowl that crosses her face. 

“This is exactly what Lucy was afraid would happen…” she says, quietly… but definitely let it be loud enough Buck would hear it. McCarty sighs, and glares at her. “What?” she continues, voice now raised. “It’s true… I mean, look at where we’re at…” 

Buck feels his face heat up, and looks away from Tommy—from them—to his hands. Tommy twitches, and groans. “E- Ev…’n” 

“Oh shit…” Dominguez gasps. “Tommy? Tommy, can you hear me?” 

“Ev’n,” Tommy repeats, trying to turn his head. “E- Ev’n…” 

Dominguez looks at Hicks, who sighs, gesturing for Buck to come closer. 

Buck stalls. 

Look at where we’re at…

Why the hell does he stall? Because in that split second decision Tommy’s eye, that is cracked open—searching the limited vision space it has for Buck… for Evan—rolls to the back of his head. His body seizes up. Every machine they have attached to him starts blaring alarms. 

McCarty moves past Buck to help Dominguez hold Tommy’s body still. Hicks tries to get a reading for his BP, his pulse, his oxygen levels, something… anything. Collier lowers the helicopter onto the hospital's helipad. Buck… still doesn’t move. He stares—maybe he is in shock, maybe he should have expected this… 

Everything had worked out too well. It had been too… easy; too convenient; too miraculous. Something was bound to go wrong.  

The residents waiting on the roof for them, snatch the door open as soon as the helicopter touches down. Tommy is lifted out, placed onto another gurney and is quickly wheeled away into the hospital before Buck fully even registers they have landed. His eyes are burning; he blinks against the tears, and follows McCarty out of the cabin. Tommy is long gone, rushed off to an OR to access the damage… and Buck had stalled. 

Why the hell did he stall. 

He didn’t let him know he was there. He should have let him know he was there… and now he might never—

Buck looks at his hands.

“Buckley,” Collier calls from the helicopter. “You want a lift back to your vehicle?” A moment passes before he repeats, “Buckley,” a bit louder. 

Then there’s a hand on his shoulder, it’s McCarty. “You good? Do you need to be checked out?” He asks. Buck lifts his eyes from his hands to McCarty’s face. He blinks, trying to register what was even just said to him. It clicks, he shakes his head. 

“No, I’m fine,” he lies. Or, well… he mostly lies. Physically he is fine. Mentally, though? Emotionally? He’s honestly a wreck. But the pain in his heart—the whirlwind of emotions and thoughts and regrets running wild in his head—is not something anyone is going to be able to check out and fix; it’s not something anyone needs to worry about. He deserves to feel it. He blinks slowly, looking back down to his hands, suddenly hyper aware of how tired he feels from the adrenaline finally plummeting to the ground (as sickly ironic as that metaphor may seem now).  “I’m— I’m fine,” he repeats, thinking maybe doubling down on the statement will really sell it. 

He turns and walks away before either can respond; off of the hospital’s helipad through the sliding glass doors into the oh-too familiar white walls, and the strong scents of disinfectant, iodine, and saline. 

He probably shouldn’t be able to navigate the hospital as well as he has become accustomed to doing. He is a firefighter after all, not a doctor… Yet his eyes remain on his hands, rather than ahead of him, and he still easily manages to reach the elevator—taking it down to the emergency room floor—with no issue. 

A part of him desperately grasps for a shred of positivity. Internally he gives himself reminders of all the times he has been here before for some situation that seemed dire and then turned out alright in the end. A much bigger, much more negative, but logical, part of him replays the fall, the flight to the hospital, the hospital staff taking the gurney through the doors out of sight, over and over and over as if to say: How can this turn out alright?! 

The answer? It can’t. It won’t. It’s not possible. He fell from too high; he lost too much blood; he sustained severe internal damage. 

He continues to look at his hands…

“Buck,” a voice calls just as he steps into the waiting area; it’s Bobby. He looks up shocked to see his team there, unsure how they even knew to come, and wishing he could find some solace in the fact they are here, and he is not alone. He finds none. “What happened?” 

“He happened,” another voice says, so angrily it makes Buck flinch. Morris storms across the room towards Buck, face red and pulled down into a deep frown. Buck realizes his team isn’t the only one here… “What the hell are you even doing here, Buckley?” The man snarls, making it into Buck’s space. Bobby reaches out an arm to keep him from getting any closer. Morris scoffs: “You don’t have to protect him, Nash. I’m not stupid, I won’t touch him… Tommy wouldn’t want—” Morris takes a breath and steps back from Buck anyway. “Why don’t you just leave, kid…” he says, voice suddenly drained as if he put all his energy into the sudden burst of anger. “You’re good at that.”

Buck wilts. He tries to not let it be visible; he doesn’t deserve to let it be visible. He doesn’t deserve sympathy (he doesn’t think anyone is really going to sympathize with him anyway… maybe his team will… although they have been pretty upset with him too). “That’s enough,” Bobby says, staring down Morris like he’s daring him to speak again; it manages to make Buck feel better and worse at the same time. 

Hen approaches him, with Chimney and Eddie on her heels. “What do we know, Buck?” She asks, voice kept low so that the question stays within their circle. “How bad is it…”

“It’s— He— He’s… in surgery… I guess— I’m sure. I was so— so close, Hen—” Bucks shoulders rise up then fall in a helpless shrug. “I tried. I tried to get to him but he fell; I couldn’t— there was nothing I could—” 

He looks at his hands, they are trembling. 

He wants to cry. He wants to finally let go and break down, and just maybe someone will have pity on him enough to comfort him through it. He takes a breath and once again pushes the emotions away. He doesn’t deserve any kind of release. He doesn’t deserve pity, or comfort. He does deserve the anger… he has half a mind to chase after Morris just to be given another dose of it. He looks at his hands.

“Buck,” Eddie says, squeezing his shoulder. “You can’t— it’s not—” Buck looks up at him, eyes pleading for him to not go there. Don't attempt to take what is rightfully his. Don’t tell him not to blame himself. It is his fault. 

Buck looks at his hands… there’s blood on his hands… Tommy’s blood is on his hands.

“Where is he?!” Buck looks up to see Lucy running into the lobby. Her eyes are wide and bloodshot, and they easily find Buck—standing awkwardly in the middle of the full lobby, covered in blood and dirt—and lock on him. “Buck… they— Collier said you found him… was he— is he…” She walks up to Buck, looking to him for answers. Everyone is looking to him for the answers to what happened in that forest; answers only he fully knows. Answers he doesn’t know if he can share… not yet. 

Suddenly he understands Tommy’s reasoning for not telling him about Jay. Suddenly it all makes sense. He looks at his hands… He looks at Lucy. “I’m— I’m so…”

She grabs his shoulders, and shakes her head. “No… Buck you tell me he’s going to be okay! You tell me right now.” 

“Lucy… I— I can’t… he’s—” Buck takes in a shaky breath. “Lucy, I'm sorry—” 

“I don’t need you to comfort me, Buckley.” Lucy snaps, releasing him and stepping back, her voice ice cold in a way she’s never used with him before. “He wasn’t even supposed to be in the air today. Captain grounded him until he could get his head straight…” she narrows her eyes at him, the look slicing through Buck like a knife.”— til he could get over you.” She shakes her head, wipes a tear as it falls from her eye. “He never should have been up there… I was supposed to be the one who went…I— I should have been—”

“You can’t blame yourself—” Buck tries, reaching out to touch Lucy’s arm. She snatches back from him and scoffs. 

“I don’t blame myself,” she says, her scowl deepening. “I blame you.” The words hit Buck like a slap to the face, as Lucy draws in a deep breath, ready to take another swing. “If I had been up there everything would have gone smoothly. I would have actually cared about making it back in one piece… or making it back at all.” 

Buck can feel his eyes widen. “Wh- what’s that supposed to mean?” Lucy tightens her jaw, a hint of regret flashing across her face. “Lucy,” Buck tries again. “What is that supposed to mean?” 

“Why are you even still here?” She asks instead of answering Buck’s question. “Be- Because you feel guilty? You did your part; you got him to the hospital… So why are you sticking around?” 

Why is he sticking around? 

Because there is absolutely nowhere he would rather be, than here when (if… it's all just a big if right now and that thought terrifies him) Tommy comes out of surgery. He isn’t exactly sure what to say, because he knows he can’t say that. He doesn’t deserve to say that he wants to be here. He does, however, feel guilty, like she said. So guilty in fact it’s making him feel sick; making him feel like there’s a vice around his chest, steadily squeezing. 

“Look,” Lucy finally says after taking a few breaths to calm herself down. “If you honestly think, that the man who acts like you’re the center of his universe; who spends every second of downtime either calling you, texting you… or talking our ears off about you; the man who you’ve said yourself treats you better than anyone else has ever treated you… If you can without a doubt tell me you really think for even just one second that he is this terrible person you have been trying so hard to paint him out to be— then you never deserved him in the first place… And you should just go home and let those of us who do care be here for him.” 

I do care… Buck thinks. “I— I’m sorry…” he says. 

“I need to go call his mom…” Lucy sighs, turning her back to him as she pulls her phone out. She walks back to the 217’s claimed side of the lobby, and Buck is left alone. 

He looks back down at his hands and attempts to wipe the blood off onto his pants, but it has dried. 

“Where’re you going?” Eddie asks when Buck starts across the lobby. 

“I just need to— I need…” he tries, and fails, to find the right words to explain that if he doesn’t get Tommy’s blood off of his hands he is going to go insane. He points to the bathroom, and Eddie relaxes back into his chair. “I’ll be right back,” he mumbles under his breath.

The extremely bright LED light inside the bathroom isn’t helping his raging headache, so he squints as he walks over to one of the sinks. He loads soap into his palm and starts scrubbing… avoiding looking into the mirror. Unable to look at himself. 

The water runs over his hands turning red as it falls into the sink and goes down the drain; his hands are still stained… he adds more soap. 

E- Ev’n…

He scrubs. 

B’ck…

The creak.

He remembers.

The snap. 

He scrubs. 

The water still runs red. He adds more soap. He pictures Tommy falling. He watches it play out again through his memory; Tommy frantically reaching for something to grab. The sound of the scream he lets out when he finds nothing. The splat of him hitting the ground. 

He scrubs. And scrubs. And scrubs.

It won’t come off.

He scrubs harder.

He was never supposed to be in the air today. 

He scrubs harder.

I don’t blame him, I blame you.

It won’t come off.

I think I see forever with you. 

He can’t get it off. 

They had plans… He was going to teach Tommy how to surf… Tommy was going to take him to the snow. “Ready to take some big steps,” Buck repeats the words Chimney had said to him when he thought Tommy was taking Buck to meet his mom. 

“She’s going to love you,” Tommy said when they had actually approached the idea. 

They still haven’t even gotten around to his flying lessons. They just never had time. He'd only learned a little Muay Thai… but Tommy always held back; always scared he might hurt him. Little did he know Buck was about to turn around and absolutely destroy him. 

He adds more soap; he scrubs harder. His hands are starting to feel raw. 

The door opens, he doesn’t look. “Buck,” Eddie says, softly at first, then again, panicked. “Buck stop.” He feels Eddie grab his wrists prying his hands apart. Buck fights against him. 

“I can’t look at it anymore, Eddie… I— I can’t!” Doesn’t Eddie see the blood? Doesn’t he understand Buck has to get it off. 

“Hey! Someone help me!” Eddie screams towards the door. 

“What the— hey! Buck, whoa— hey…” Bobby runs over to Buck’s other side, taking one arm while Eddie still has the other. “That’s enough, kid…”

His energy drains once again. He looks at his hands. 

The water is still running red, except the blood is no longer Tommy’s… it’s his. 

Buck looks down at his hands; from his fingertips up past his wrists is deep red, rubbed raw and bleeding. “Oh god…” he gasps, trying to take in a few calming breaths; instead it turns his stomach and he has to push away from the sink, away from Bobby and Eddie’s hold on him, to stumble through the door of the nearest stall. He collapses to the floor  holding his ruined hands away from the seat—the last thing he needs is an infection—as he heaves into the toilet. 

“Here,” Eddie says, handing him some paper towels. 

Buck sits back on his heels. “Thanks…” he says and begins to dab at the still bleeding spots on his hands. 

He wants to cry; he pushes it down.

A hand covers his, stopping his ministrations of trying to stop the bleeding. It's Hen. She offers a genuine smile—he doesn’t deserve that. He looks away. “Hey,” she says softly. “Let me see.” He opens his mouth to say that he’s fine… “I’m not asking,” she says before he can. “Wet these,” she instructs Eddie. “And find me some antibiotic ointment and gauze.” 

Buck hisses as she spreads it over the bleeding spots, avoiding her eyes. She wraps his hands and lays them back in his lap. Bobby and Eddie help Buck to his feet. He thinks he should probably just leave. He is causing more trouble than anything by being here… 

Chimney is waiting in the hall. He looks at Buck, with puffy red rimmed eyes, when he walks out of the bathroom. He looks down at Buck’s hands, and sighs. Buck braces himself for another attack. To be called selfish, and told this is all his fault, that he doesn’t get to take the attention from the person who deserves it by hurting himself. That he’s really being Buck… and he needs to just stop. 

Two arms wrap around him. Chimney holds him like he might just disappear if he doesn’t hang on for dear life. “He’ll get through this, Buckaroo…” Chimney says, and Buck thinks it might hit harder than if he were screaming at him. “Tommy’s strong and— and he will fight to get back to us— to you, okay?” 

Buck sucks in a breath and holds it. He doesn’t deserve this from them… why are they mad at him? The 217 seems to get it. This is his fault. 

They walk with him back to the lobby, and Sal has arrived, sitting with Lucy and Morris. They all look up as the 118 walks Buck to a seat, Eddie and Chimney sitting on either side of him. Sal glances over, the first person not on his team to look at him with pity rather than like he someone hijacked the helicopter’s controls and made it crash himself. 

Hours of a heavy awkward silence pass before a doctor finally walks out into the lobby. “For Kinard,” she says, seemingly taken aback when nearly the whole of the lobby’s occupancy stands up.

“How is he?” McCarty asks. 

“He coded several times during surgery, but he pulled through,” the doctor says. Buck feels the vice around his chest tighten with each injury she explains. Multiple broken bones, a ruptured spleen, a tear in his liver from a broken rib… Severe trauma to his spinal cord… More words to run, and rerun through Buck’s head. She looks over Tommy’s chart, and sighs. “I'm not going to lie to you all, it’s very touch and go right now. All we can do now is monitor him and wait for him to wake up. 

“Can— can we see him?” Lucy asks. The doctor looks around at the large crowd. “We know everyone can’t but—” She looks around her team, and even at the 118. “We’re kind of all he has until his mom gets here.” The doctor reluctantly agrees, says only a few can go in at a time. The rest have to stay in the ICU waiting area. 

Buck feels like his feet are cemented to the floor when everyone starts towards the elevators. He thinks he hears Morris mumble he’d have to go through him to get into Tommy’s room. He thinks he hears Sal say he needs to back off. He thinks he should just go home. Tommy doesn’t need him here, he has his team; he has Buck’s team, too. 

Chimney puts a hand on Buck’s back, breaking him from his thoughts. “Let’s go,” he says, giving a slight nudge that seems to break Buck’s feet free. They wait for an empty elevator and squeeze inside.  

_________

Tags <3

@bucksxkinard @kinkley-are-adorkable-flirts @sira1420 @30somethingautisticteacher @girlwonder-writes @do-androids-dream-ao3acc

(Let me know if you'd like to be added to the tag list! <3)

[milkiie]

how i look doing my makeup to go to physical rehab after being hit by a car

[sparrowsortadrawzzz]

pssssst...neurodivergent person.....

reminder to stop picking at your cuticles <33 use an orange stick, some trimmers, and cuticle oil, the owie is not worth it

love you big bunches!

[pfhwrittes]

another one from the prompt list, "how do they deal emotionally after a bad mission".

tw for angst, non-graphic self injury, hurt no comfort (despite kyle's best efforts), and blood mention below the cut.

–

there’s blood under her nails and it won’t come out no matter how much she scrubs. she can still feel it, settling deep into the creases around her knuckles and in the life line on her palm.

a warm palm lands on jonesy’s shoulder and she flinches, wide eyes meet worried brown in the cracked mirror. 

“jonesy, c’mon mate -” jonesy shrugs the hand off and ducks her head and focuses on the bead of blood welling up on her thumb.

“leave it, gaz.” 

pink tinted water slips down the plughole of the basin in the safehouse. 

“he’s fine. barely even a scratch, it’ll take more than a lucky knife to get soap -” 

“i said, leave it.” jonesy’s voice is a whip crack, cutting off pretty soothing words that she knows she doesn’t deserve to hear. a better soldier, a better teammate, a better friend would deserve to hear them. not her. not someone who almost got her friend killed. 

gaz sighs softly and fabric rustles over the sound of running water.

“i’ll be back in a minute, yeah?” he says softly and jonesy ignores him. she scrubs harder at her hands, ignoring the astringent sting of cheap soap against her knuckles. 

the hinges on the bathroom door squeal as gaz retreats. 

there’s blood under her nails and it won’t come out.

[literarystarfish]

Voodoo Doll - part two

Villain learns Hero is more like them than they ever expected as they try to use Hero for their plans against Superhero

Part two ~1800 words

Part one here

Heed the warnings in the tags

~~

Two days later, Villain was having fun skirting around the other heroes' attempts to stop them and their annoying attacks on some of their bases. The moment the other heroes pulled back, however, that's how Villain knew their target was approaching. There was something to say about being so-called 'nemeses'— a title established by the news, of course— with the person you were looking to draw the attention of. 

However, they were surprised to see Superhero show up with Hero as well. Hero was still technically under the tutelage of Superhero, but rarely has Superhero actually accompanied them on a mission since they first began training those years ago. 

Superhero stood back, though, watching and letting Hero do the work. Watching with scrutinizing eyes. Narrowed and waiting. Was this a test for Hero? Before they could be considered part of the superhero’s guild? 

Villain almost felt bad for giving them the slip in the midst of their battle, knowing Hero was being watched by a superior that they looked up so highly to. Almost. But Villain had gotten their connection and they weren’t going to risk that Superhero could step into the battle as well. Hero was easy enough. Even Superhero, themself, wasn’t terribly scary alone. But Hero and Superhero together, however, could get dicey.

So Villain took their leave once they got what they were after. Their voodoo connection was obtained and they were slinking off to the shadows to await their plan. 

An hour later, however, just as they were gathering together the last of the things they would need to actually pull off that plan and begin to put it into action, Villain dropped the connection for a second time. 

The pain in their scalp as the feeling of their hair being yanked back and then the blindsided, closed-fisted blow to the side of their face caught them so off guard that the connection was severed without Villain making the conscious decision. Their body reacted in self defense against the surprise attack by losing the spell the minute their head and vision swam and they had to try to keep from falling. 

What. The actual. Fuck. Hero?! Villain thought, angrily, temple pounding with the making of the bruise due to form there. 

How is it that BOTH times Villain had a continuing connection, Hero managed to get into two— honestly quite pathetic— brawls where they took hits out of nowhere and didn’t return them? How did they just get so thoroughly sucker punched? Did they seriously allow their enemy to catch them by surprise just now? Pathetic!

Villain was fed up. They wanted to know exactly who kept beating the hero up without them so much as fighting back. 

Whatever or whoever it was is ruining their plans.

~~

And that's how Villain came upon a sight they’d never thought they’d see.

Or, at least, not a sight they thought they’d have such a strong emotional reaction towards. Emotions that are unfamiliar towards a hero. 

Concern? Is that what this is?

Before them, Hero lay beaten and curled up on the ground with Superhero standing over them.  Superhero was berating Hero’s defeat from today. Clearly angry and very clearly unconcerned by the blood that was currently dripping freely from their subordinate’s nose and split lip or the puffy red beginnings of what will surely be a black eye if a healer didn’t get to it any time soon. And… was that an unnaturally bent and limp wrist on Hero’s left arm that was now trying to protect their face from yet another kick Superhero aimed at them?

Even from their spot in the cover of darkness, Villain could see the way Hero flinched away every time Superhero made a sharp move.

Hero cried out in a way Villain had never heard from them before, even when they were enduring the pain under the villain’s own influence. Tears they’d never seen from the hero before streaked down their face. 

Feelings they’d never felt from seeing the hero’s pain twisted Villain’s insides. 

The look of disappointment, hatred, and malice also wasn’t something that Villain had ever seen from Superhero before. It sent a shiver down their spine. Superhero was always cocky— so sure of themselves— almost happy to be beating up villains. Villain had seen that joy enough times to recognize it. This was not the same.

That’s when the pieces fell into place. Pieces that looked eerily similar to the ones that patchworked into Villain’s own past.

Hero did go home that first night. They weren’t ambushed or got into any other fight. Superhero was the one that harmed them. That strangled them. Villain could see the slightly greenish bruising around Hero’s throat that easily matched the size of Superhero’s hands. 

It was clear now what was happening. 

Superhero would beat Hero senseless any time they did not come out victorious. Hero was punished for failing.

Brutally, it seemed. 

And they took it without so much as lifting a finger in defense. 

Hero just laid down and allowed it to happen as if the punishment was deserved. All because Superhero was their mentor. Someone that the villain knew Hero looked up to and trusted. 

Overwhelming memories of past betrayals flooded to the front of Villain’s mind. One memory in particular sparking through them like a bolt of lightning, leaving burning feelings crackling inside them that they thought they had finally forgotten. 

Villain knows what it feels like to have someone they trusted- someone they respected and looked up to- stab them in the back, both literally and figuratively, time and time again. Who used the power imbalance he had over them to drain them of everything they could possibly give for months upon years, all the while pretending to be trustworthy and managing to keep Villain completely reliant on him so he could continue the cycle. 

Villain watched in shocked and silent horror as Superhero beat the living shit out of Hero as they told them over and over that if they continued to fight as poorly they do, stayed as weak as they were, didn’t listen to every word Superhero told them down to the letter, they would never be able to join the city’s superhero guild. And Superhero would see to that personally so there was no way their sorry excuse for a protégé could embarrass them when they inevitably failed. 

All the hurt and betrayal and rage Villain had ever felt growing up under Supervillain’s fists and cruel, malicious words came flooding back to them. The feeling that enough was enough. That anxious yet freeing feeling that they would not stand for the mistreatment any longer. The pure unadulterated hatred they had finally felt instead of that misguided reverence for their own mentor that had welled up inside them after years of being told they were useless. That they were weak. That they would amount to nothing. The years of systematic torture they underwent to train them to withstand the pain that would ‘inevitably come from their power’ under Supervillain’s strict guidance because otherwise their power would be useless and they would be useless. 

The intense need to give back all the pain they had been forced to endure since they were a child— both mentally and physically— as they had finally dug that last bloodied knife into Supervillain’s barely thumping heart. As they saw Supervillain open their bloodied mouth with a silent, gurgling scream and watched as the light faded from their bloodshot eyes as they were finally put out of the well-deserved torture that Villain had unleashed upon them. 

Vengeance.

Retribution. 

Hours upon hours, screams upon throat-tearing screams, with blunt weapons upon skin searing flames upon rusty knives, upon broken bones and a severed fingertip. Each of those same bruises and burns and wounds that perfectly matched all of the ones given to Villain through the years at the hands of Supervillain in the name of making Villain stronger— less useless— better.

And, after it all, they could barely feel an ounce of guilt as they whispered a nearly inaudible, ironic “Goodbye, father” to the slowly cooling corpse of their tormentor. The one they’d never once felt any parental love from, the one they never once felt anything but pain from. The one that they easily left behind on the cold, hard, blood stained concrete that day all those years ago. 

That same intense sense of justice, however twisted it had formed in their head, willed itself back into the molten, white hot flames from that smoldering pit it had since quelled itself into. 

It burned deep and bright and hot and vicious like it had those hours— those days— leading up to Supervillain’s demise while Villain watched from the shadows as Hero endured something so achingly familiar to them. 

Superhero made a mistake.

Had they followed their own moral code that they had fooled the world into believing they had— had they known they would be caught by the mysterious ‘hero’ who had finally taken out the Supervillain who was only matched in strength then by Superhero themself— had they known the true reason behind Supervillain’s gruesome demise— they would perhaps have thought twice about the next slap, the next punch, the next broken bone and bruise and cry of pain they forced from Hero’s mouth. 

Superhero would soon feel the true power that Supervillain had created within Villain. 

They would soon know.

And whether Hero wanted it or not— whether they were still brainwashed into thinking what Superhero did to them was for their own good as Villain was well aware they would be—, Superhero would soon know exactly what pain they caused Hero.

~~

And perhaps, as Hero whispered into their ear, with a smile on their face, all of the horrible things Superhero had done to them knowing Villain would then unleash it upon the superhero restrained before them without even a second thought, Villain would know then that Hero had been so close to their breaking point under the cruel punishment Superhero had given them as well. Hero’s descent had been imminent. Villain just sped the process along.

It hadn’t taken much to convince Hero that Superhero deserved a fate like this. It didn’t take much to get them to tell them every detail of all the harm Superhero had done behind the scenes not just to Hero, but to the city as well in the name of ‘protecting its citizens’. 

It took almost nothing at all to get Hero to swiftly fall to their side, as Superhero had been so gracious to push them to the edge and then teeter them over it with less than a single crumbling rock beneath their feet keeping them at the peak. 

And that fact only made it all the more sweet as Villain, flanked alongside their now fallen hero, once more watched the light fade from the eyes of a second monstrous evil in this world. 

~~

And perhaps, together now, the villain and the fallen hero could finally take back the city from the tyranny of the so-called superheroes who ran it and save the people from their leeching hands and give them true peace and freedom.

————————————

Well that’s the end of my first short little snippet-turned-longer-than-I-expected. Hope you enjoyed it. It’s been a thought rattling around in my head for a very long while. Thanks and enjoy! -Jayy

[kriimhild]

We gone too far #15-16

See more on Patreon

tw:

threat a specific human

torture

blood

scars

foul language

adult themes mention

violence

i'm terrible at English sorry about that.

Page collection 1-9

Page collection 10-14 15

16 tw: blood/scars

[kadextra]

Dapper talking about how it feels cold and that it’s “comforting” in their last few entries right after saying she’s using their own health and almost died is literally the biggest red flag ever

[thelunarsystemwrites]

LusterrorTale

A horrortale x underlust AU!

(Lore below cut! TW for talk of: suicide, death, sex, sexual violence, starvation, depression, addiction!)

So the idea of LusterrorTale, is after a neutral run from Frisk—Toriel and Asgire are dead, as they killed both. So Undyne immediately became queen.

So... things play out, magic in the underground starts dying. They're trying to fix to core, food starts running low as magic does-

Dead. Alphys, who was keeping the core alive... killed herself. So the core kinda just.. breaks, with only Sans knowing how to fix it.

This sent Undyne into a deep depression with her lover dead. In a fit of rage, she blamed Sans for it and you know.. shattered his skull. (She blamed him because he was helping Alphys with the core, so she believes Sans should've seen the signs.)

Now, with the core dead and magic at an all time low—In this au, there's one natural way of making magic with two monsters—Which is uh, doing the deed. It causes magic to build up.

Sooooo basically all the monsters, since they're starving for magic, all kinda go sex crazy. They become addicted to it, since they're desperate for the magic that becomes like a high.

In this AU, it focuses more on sexual violence, depression, starvation—It's a blend of Horrortale and Underlust in the fact that it combines starvation with desire. The design for Sans here was originally intended for an AU I was making with a friend, but we changed it. So I decided to give this guy his own AU!

So yeah, SA is unfortunately, very common in the underground. So is Monsters offing themselves, it's INCREDIBLY depressing. The idea is the underground has reached its lowest, where everyone is scrapping for a bit more.

...Oh yeah, the human who falls is a therapist-

HorrorTale by sour-apple studios!

Underlust by NSFWshamecave!

LusterrorTale by me!