#y'all asked for angst

[iilmunchkiin]

Starlo... now is not the time to ask that...

[sillygoofyqueer]

I'M BACK WITH MORE ANGST

(but first of all!!! i loove that characterization of wei qingwei, the pirate-dad-peak lord; i can see him being the only peak lord/person who is allowed to casually fix stray feathers on shen qingqiu's wings, because he never makes a big deal out of it or acts like he's made of glass. he fixes it like he fixes someone's hair or clothes, which is a bit of normalcy shen qingqiu is probably desperate for)

so i was thinking: water prison. the whole jin lan city debacle goes roughly the same, only of course with the added accusations of sqq having been an untrustworthy, scheming demon all along and the accusations being a bit more dire. public opinion turns against him badly and he gets hauled off. the old palace master would probably go all in on his demonic heritage and accuse him of a slew of other things too, and then demand his wings be clipped because he'll "escape otherwise". it's not great but shen qingqiu doesn't use his wings to fly that often, and he'll molt soon anyway so he agrees with the conditions (if only to soothe things over). but then ofc in private they do whatever they want and the old palace master changes clipping to pinioning, which is significantly worse, very painful, and cripples him (bonus points if the little palace mistress comes to the prison with her whip and gets a few hits in too cus his wings are drenched and hurt and difficult to maneuver<3).

i do think in this case luo binghe doesn't visit bc if he already got furious at the little palace mistress for using her whip, he wouldn't accept his shizun's wings being mutilated (however, if binghe does come it would be a similar kind of frustrating miscommunication as in canon, and when binghe gets furious when he sees shen qingqiu it's not at sqq but at the state of him, but sqq doesn't know that, and reacts in fear and self-preservation (moving away, tucking his wings tight and close to his body, eyes flashing pale blue (like a crow's!!)), which of course makes it worse; maybe binghe assumes that shen qingqiu thinks this was his idea, which he would NEVER).

when gongyi xiao (love this good boy<3) comes by ofc he's horrified to see the state of shen qingqiu's wings (clumps of blood-slick feathers on the floor, one wing clearly shorter than the other, ripped clothes and bruises), and just like in canon he immediately goes to free him bc it's unacceptable and vile, and maaaybe he jumps to the conclusion that binghe must have done this to him to punish him. with the last of his strength sqq transforms into his full crow form, which is easier to smuggle out of the prison bc gongyi xiao can bundle him up in his robes (for extra drama binghe can be like "shizun will let gongyi xiao swaddle him in his robes and hold him but not binghe??🥺🥺😡😡" "binghe please don't say it like that")

*Gripping the sides of my coffin as I force myself into a sitting position and yes, I do look as - if not MORE - fit than Tianlang-jun in that one illustration (you know the one I mean)* Hey.

This angst just hit me incredibly hard in the stomach and that's why I've been ill so...it's ALL YOUR FAULT (kidding, kidding). Anywhosles, Gongyi Xiao is precious and of course he would smuggle crow Shen Qingqiu out of the prison the moment he sees the mutilation of the poor guy's wings. If he believes Binghe did it? Another reason to dislike the guy that practically stole everything from him (I love this precious guy and he deserves better in canon 😔). He has heard so much about the peak lord grieving the loss of his disciple, and Luo Binghe repays him by practically destroying his wings?? Shameful :(

From the Zhuzhi-lang angle, imagine he's in snake form, going to find the fit guy dilf half demon cultivator that saved his life and helped him out when he should have killed him, and finding a Huan Hua Palace disciple holding a brutalised crow with overly intelligent eyes. It's not hard to jump to the conclusion that the Huan Hua disciple has either caused or helped cause these injuries upon Shen Qingqiu, and is possibly even about to kill him. Keep in mind that all Zhuzhi-lang knows is that Shen Qingqiu has been taken into custody by Huan Hua, held within the Water Prison with his wings to be clipped, multiple accusations thrown his way linked to him being a demon, and that it's the snake boi's job to save him because Shen Qingqiu saved him that one time. What would you do in that situation? Because Zhuzhi-lang attacks with no remorse. Does Gongyi Xiao die?? The real question is if I could bear the poor guy dying twice just for doing the right thing...

The miscommunication between Luo Binghe and Shen Qingqiu always makes me want to die because just ONE CONVERSATION WOULD FIX EVERYTHING. But that's also why it's so silly and good and I love it. The idea that Shen Qingqiu believes that Luo Binghe is the reason why his wings are so fucked up could go deeper with the idea of, back when Luo Binghe was a disciple, he was practically the only disciple that was ever allowed to touch the man's wings, and he always seemed very upset when the other peak lords got to help Shen Qingqiu with his feathers - jealous of them, in reality, but the man thought that maybe he was jealous of how Shen Qingqiu was treated despite being a demon (it was a tidgy bit of the reason). So, when Shen Qingqiu is in the Water Prison, Binghe's first order of business could be perceived as: "you want to be treated as a pathetic human? I can help with that" and ruins one of Shen Qingqiu's defining features of a demon, making him vulnerable and weak - which is how Bingge felt humans were, and how Shen Qingqiu thinks Binghe views humans. So. Angst. Yay.

[poppy-metal]

So I’ve sent a few asks about this since i'm not a challengers blog lmao but i feel like ive got this sorted now. This is a polycule au where reader enters via Tashi.

Reader is Tashi’s childhood best friend. They met at a day camp for kids in the neighborhood, and you were excited to let her babble on about tennis and sports and everything else. You traded hair ties and discovered you have the same favorite movie and that was that. 

You were interested in tennis for a bit, an eager little kid, really just excited to have a best friend. Your parents were a bit concerned - don't you want other friends? She seems a little... overbearing... - but you didn’t care. This wasn’t just another kid - this was Tashi. Fire and ice, determination and grit, strength and beauty... You didn’t realize you were falling in love, you were just a kid. But that first love - when given the opportunity - can grow into its own beast. Spin the bottle might have been the first kiss you two share (and your first kiss ever), and it probably should have hurt your feelings more when she told you you were a terrible kisser later that night, but she offered to teach you and you tried to ignore the way your mouth went dry at the thought of tasting her again.

But despite your best efforts, as you drift away from tennis and into the pageant circuit, you and Tashi drift apart too. She still drags you out to do doubles for fun, but you can tell it bothers her that you aren’t as passionate about it as she is. It was her idea to write letters in college - she was flopped out on your bed, looking like a goddess in her tiny pajama shorts. She said it was convenient, you couldn’t help the way your heart skipped a beat. You’d been scared that she might just leave you - find a friend with a passion and drive that matched hers. But she wanted you around. Even tried to set you up with Art one time, the four of you crammed in a booth at some shitty diner. You decided then that you hated both boys - you’d heard their names in her letters, tried to ignore the way jealousy coiled in your chest every time they looked at her.

After her injury though... she just drifted away. By the time Lily was born, she rarely wrote back, to your texts or emails. It was too hard - you understood tennis as a game, but not in the way she did. Besides, you were solidly from before. Before the injury, before the marriage, before any of it. In her mind, you were pure. She couldn’t taint that with her pain and loss. You tried reaching out to Art, but he brushed you off.  You ran into Patrick a few years later, at a shitty hotel. You’d almost kissed him - the heat of the moment and the history making desire twist with guilt in your stomach and you’d practically ran from the bar.

But that didn’t mean you stopped writing. And that made everything worse - why couldn’t you be more like Patrick, take a hint, let her go, let her slip fully into her after. But you never forgot a birthday - an ever growing collection of cards and letters in a box under her bed. You’d wondered, sometimes, if she read them. The letters got shorter and shorter as your own life drifted away from you. Empty friendships, empty relationships... it should have alarmed you, the way your life became grey without her. 

After the Challenger, when Patrick was back in their life, he was looking for something of Art’s when he found that shoebox under her bed. The last few letters are unopened - you’d stopped including any details of interest by now, and she couldn’t bear to read the nothingness. You used to fill pages - now you barely covered the front of one.

But despite late night conversations while Tashi was getting ready for bed, neither Patrick nor Art ever felt like it was their place to say anything. Patrick would poke and prod, but never actually did anything. 

It would be another year of radio silence before fate intervened. At this point in your life, you were working as a personal assistant for some big-wig sports sponsor, an overbearing man with wandering hands - but he pays you well, and your contract has a year or so left in it anyways.

The party had barely started when someone taps you on your shoulder. You’d been flitting around in a blush gown, debriefing the staff and restocking tables. You spin, expecting another waiter with a question, but Art’s blue eyes widened as they met yours. He hadn’t recognized you from behind - looking for answers about where to put their coats, but now you were both staring, brains whirring, trying to think of what to say. And you can’t stop  yourself from scanning the room, a million questions swirling in your mind. Is she here? Did she know I was here? Eventually, you and Art are able to get through the awkward conversation, as you try to keep your eyes from traveling the entirety of his form - older, but still muscled, and the crows feet around his eyes only served to increase his attractiveness.

You’d flit away again, your heart pounding in your chest. You still hadn’t seen Tashi - was she even here? It would be a few hours before Patrick would confront you at the bar. You’d finally gotten away from your boss, throwing back a shot surreptitiously. 

“Is he always like that?” He asked, leaning back against the bar, up in your space the way he’d been all those years ago. 

“Hmm?” Was all you could manage, the shock and the alcohol making your mind move slower than normal.

“Your boss. Is he always so touchy?” You don’t answer that, putting your shot glass back on the bar and flitting away again.You’d hosted a thousand parties with your boss - why are they here now?

It was almost midnight by the time you finally see Tashi - you’d been washing your hands in the women's bathroom when she came out of the stall behind you and you both froze. Your brain was running a mile a minute, you weren’t even sure if you were breathing, all those feelings from decades ago coming up your throat.

“It’s good to see you.” Was all she said before slipping out of the bathroom. You find yourself leaning heavily against the sink, just trying to catch your breath.

Tashi would say that it was seeing you with your boss that pushed her over the edge into bringing you back into her life. But both Patrick and Art know that it wouldn’t have mattered if she had seen you with your shitty boss, happily married with kids, or in the height of your career. One look at you was enough.

aw, this one HURT what the hell ☹️☹️☹️☹️ the continued letters :((((( them slowly getting more and more lifeless the more that times passes and the more listless she becomes :(((( i imagine she stops hoping for tashi's reply, probably stops thinking tashi reads them at all - just vents like its a diary - she could buy an actual diary but something about the letters and knowing where they'll end up gives you comfort. you talk about failed dates and how you dont feel like you're built for love, dont think its meant for you. think you're probably always meant to doll it out and not receive it and how its okay and you accept it and you dont resent her for leaving - especially after her injury, you get it - except sometimes you get angry and your letters have tear stains on them with blurred ink lines and you write about how you understand how hurt and devastated tashi must have been and still must be, but why couldn't she let you be there for her? why weren't you enough? why did she accept love from art years later but never sends a letter back to you? why does he get grace from that time in your life, but you dont? what did you do to deserve it?

those are the letters tashi almost replies to - the angry ones - she gets as far as putting a pen to paper but can never find the words to explain how the reminder of you, after her injury, was just too much to bear - all her passion and ferocity and girlish zeal were wrapped up tightly and bound to you - even though you didn't play tennis - you reminded her of everything playing tennis used to make her feel. euphoric. how can she explain thinking of you made her sick to her stomach and by the time she'd gotten to a place where she could stand on her own two feet again. allow love back into her life through art - that she'd simply felt the weight of her cruelty too intensely. she couldn't apologize. she couldn't bear seeing the betrayal in your eyes, the hurt, the wound she'd caused. tashi was tough - but not when it came to you. you'd rip her right open. so she never replied. and eventually, it became too much to read them too.

and art probably knows about you - it's kind of hard not to notice his wife getting letters continuously. he asks about them, and tashi tells them they're from you and arts thinks 'oh.' he feels bad for you, he remembers you - remembers that time tashi tried to set you on a double date and it went miserably because art was too much of a loser back then to know how to treat a woman - and he'd still been very much in love with tashi. you'd been sweet, though. down to earth, kind, funny. he could tell you and tashi adored eachother. he doesn't read any of your letters, but he sees the expression on tashi's face kind of - shrink whenever she gets one - and he recommends only once, "why dont you return it?" but the glare she'd sent him had been enough that he'd never brought it up again. he wanted to ask more about you. had an inkling there was something more there under the surface - something romantic even, but he never knew how to go about asking. you were a touchy subject. it made him endlessly curious, despite himself.

and patrick - patrick probably hurt the worst. tashi marrying art - not being invited to the wedding - it'd hurt, badly. you'd written her many letters about just how much it hurt - but with patrick. it felt like a slap to the face. you and patrick - you felt a kinship with him. you hadn't bonded until well after college, not until years later, when you ran into him one night at a local bar. but catching up with him felt as easy as breathing, and like you'd known him all your life. he was self-deprecating and annoyingly flirtatious and haunted. he asked you about a tattoo you had on your wrist with a finger skimming the mark there and you'd breathed in. and that was it. you spent hours talking about tashi, spooling your guts out - and he did the same. you realized you had a connection there - you'd never been around patrick much when he dated tashi but you could tell he still loved her. just like you did. art too, though you didn't know the man well enough to mourn his absence from your life, other than to be stung that he apparently was more deserving of tashi than you were.

you'd almost went home with him - you could tell he wanted to. and the shared pain you felt drew you to him, you couldn't lie. patrick zweig was attractive and and you knew a night with him would treat you well. he'd make you cum - many times, probably. but the thing that stopped you was the very reason you were called to do it in the first place. god, was everything in your life about tashi? every goddamn thing? even your hookups? patrick wanted you, he definitely thought you were hot, but the peak of his desire came from wanting to have something of tashi's. to be closer to her - or to back at her. he'd make you cum, but it wouldn't be about you, or even for you. you couldn’t even be mad at him for wanting it - because for a moment, you wanted it too. to have something of tashi's - both to be closer to her and to spite her. but that's not who you were, at the end of the day.

you just didn't have it in you to play games.

patrick didn't take it hard. just gave you a half crooked smile and gave you his number if you ever changed your mind. the paper sat folded up in a pocket in your wallet for years to come. never used, but never tossed out.

it would be a few years later - working on an event for your gross boss that you saw the match on screen. catching snatches of it between your rounds of attending to guests, before tuning in fully on your break. breathless and nearly nose pressed to the screen as you watched all three of them come together in the most beautiful match of tennis you'd ever seen in your life. watching art and patrick embrace across the net made your eyes burn. when you saw tashi smile you turned the TV off.

a week later patrick was in the news, pictures of him seen with tashi and art on every article online. you couldn’t escape from their image - pictures of the three of them at a dinner - coming out of the movies. one of tashi and patrick seen laughing at a premiere. another of art and patrick relaxing on beach chairs.

it felt like being stabbed in the chest. the connection you felt with patrick severed. you didn't share anything. he was still chosen, in the end, when you weren't. you threw his number out. crumpled and barely eligible anyway.

you stop writing tashi after that. you doubt she'd notice. it was time you stopped being pathetic and let go. she probably threw the letters away the second she got them. art probably thought you were a nuisance. patrick probably thought you were a joke.

you move through life on autopilot for some time. you tune out news about anything related to tennis. you throw yourself into your job - that you hate. but what can you do? it puts food on the table and a roof over your head and yeah your boss gets handsy and makes inappropriate comments but its worth it kind of because he pays you extra and that means you get to buy the fancy ramen. the kind with actual beef tips in it.

its just any other night, refilling guests drinks - managing the bar when it's unattended - flitting around to see if anyone needed anything. your outfit was bordering on inappropriate - akin to that of a maid - black and white and shorter than necessary, especially for a high brow event such as this. but it was what your boss made all the women wear, so you couldn't complain. and yeah, maybe your skirt was shorter than anyone elses but if you just were conscious enough of your surroundings and keeping the hem from raising, it was manageable.

seeing art is like a bucket of ice being dumped on your head. turning around to see his startled expression feels almost comical. his suit and tie in comparison to your near slutty get up is humiliating beyond belief but you simply paste a smile on your face and pretend like seeing him and what it means that hes here hasn't just made your brain short circuit - you act like he's any other guest. pluck his coat from his arm and tell him if he needs anything to please let you know. you hope he doesn't. you hope he leaves you the hell alone.

if seeing art was ice seeing patrick at the bar feels like being tossed into a fireplace. you feel your skin heat just from him being close. your nose twitches at his comment - patrick was always more perceptive than people gave him credit for - but you didn't want to linger around to entertain him. if he thought he could just talk to you like he did the last time you two talked - like he hadn't spit in your face - he was wrong.

and if seeing patrick was like being thrown in a pit of fire seeing tashi in the bathroom was like being shot through the heart. a bullet entering your sternum. breaking all your bones that'd been paper thin anyway and tearing apart all your lungs and viens and cartilage. beautiful as the day you'd last seen her. somehow even more gorgeous with time and in the flesh. her beauty could never be captured completely by a camera or on a screen, though. it was the kind that shone best in person. because she glowed. she was effervescent. you wanted to die.

"its good to see you."

its good to see you.

over and over again in your head long after the door swings shut behind her. its good to see you like there wasn't a decade of unaccounted time between you. its good to see you like there weren't a thousand unanswered letters between you. its good to see you like you were passing acquaintances. nothing more.

you wash your hands in the sink three times. you fix your skirt, though it does absolutely nothing to do so. you go back outside and you deliberately avoid their table and when your boss pulls you to the side and slides a hand down your arm and tells you, you look like you need a break - you look at him and you know you can do what you usually do, which is act stupid and say no thank you or simply act like you dont know what he wants from you until he gets bored. but then you feel the empty pit in your chest that the bullet left ravaged, and you know you need something to fill it. even if that something will make you hate yourself.

you dont beat around the bush.

"can you take me home after work?"

your boss grins. you smile back, it feels wooden on your face.

"sure i can, sweetheart."

[rosieofcorona]

Begging you to post Solas's reaction to finding out he got your Lavellan pregnant 🧎‍♀️‍➡️🧎‍♀️‍➡️

I still gotta write this out but I can certainly give you the short version in the meantime!! 💕 Under the cut bc the short version is still long:

Solas isn't trying to have children. Ever, in my opinion, but that's discourse for another day. He's trying to tear a hole in the fabric of modern existence and all the while he's trying to care less about the people he loves so he won't lose his nerve. A bad idea, because he's terrible at not caring. He cares so deeply and so much and he can't help it. And in his "last" (or what he thinks will be his last) meeting with Lavellan, she persuades him that if he's truly going to do this, if she's never going to see him again, if he's going to let the world fall apart around them, she wants one more night with him. Just one. A bad idea, but he can't say no, because she asks for so little. He can't say no because there's so little he wants for himself. So he agrees, and they spend the night together, and they go their separate ways, so he thinks. No harm done. It's Cole who tells him, eventually. Not Lavellan, as she's lost track of him again. And he is truly distressed. He can't bring himself to be happy, because he still has to do his work. He's brought another little thing into a world headed straight for more suffering at his own hand. But he resolves to meet the child because she'll want that, and he loves her.

A bad idea, because then he can't bring himself to regret it.

[psychologicalwarclaire]

18 for the injury prompts. Gimme brains and brawn plz :]

Hello Pixel!

Number 18: "Stop. No. Wake up. Wake up! I said wake up!"

Y'all remember in the season one finale when Draxum threatened to torture the boys for information on the last piece of the Dark Armor? Yeaaahhhhh me too >:)

---

The frigid metal of the cage seeped through Raph's Hamato Clan uniform. He was grateful for the long sleeves, at least.

His head still spun with dizzying visions that only got more and more nonsensical. His dad saying the same thing forwards and backwards. His dad tearing apart the Lair yelling, "I DON'T KNOW WHAT IT IS!" His dad hyperventilating in April's arms, sobbing, "I don't know how to save them."

Raph didn't understand what any of it meant. Why was he the one getting visions?

"Are you guys getting anything?" he ventured at last.

"Nope."

"Nuh uh."

"Negative."

"We've gotta find a way out of here! Hamato style!" Raph got to his feet and the cage swayed. "Come on, what would our ancestors do?"

"We've only been following their ways for like a day and a half, Raph!" Mikey groaned. "We're not exactly experts."

Leo smirked. "Maybe you're not," he teased.

Raph shot him a look. Now was not the time.

"What, I'm just trying to lighten the mood! We're locked in a cage, held for random by the Foot, and none of us gave Dad grandchildren. I doubt a little joking will make things worse."

Nodding, Mikey managed a smile. "Yeah, things could be worse, so let's--"

"You're right, orange one."

The turtles all leapt to their feet at the sound of Baron Draxum's voice.

Donnie let out a strangled sound as Draxum rose up to the cage's level on a tide of magenta vines. Distantly, Raph noted that Don had been quiet in the way he only was when he was really stressed.

"I will give you one chance to tell me where the final piece of the Dark Armor is."

The turtles glanced at each other.

"We don't know," Raph said. It was the simplest and most truthful answer he could give.

"Yeah," Leo added. His mind was clearly whirring behind his red mask. "If we did, why would we be here trying to stop you instead of out protecting it?"

"Indeed," Donnie nodded. "As much as I hate admitting when information eludes me, I will admit that none of us know where the final piece is. Or even what it is."

Donnie's testimony should have been the most concrete proof Draxum needed. The softshell simply couldn't lie.

Softshell...

Raph suddenly became very aware that Donnie's battleshell was at home and Draxum was looking more murderous by the minute.

"You are all LIARS! I KNOW the final piece is under the care of Lou Jitsu of the Hamato Clan!"

"No?" Mikey piped up. "I think we would've known--"

"BUT YOU DO KNOW!" Draxum roared.

Vines slammed into the cage. Everyone fell to their knees as the floor rocked and spun. There was a screech as the door was wrenched open.

Before Raph could react, vines had wrapped around his waist. His eyes met Donnie's widened ones, and then Raph was yanked away.

Weightless. Falling. Air being squeezed out of his lungs.

His fall was slowed slightly by the vine, but Raph could still tell the ground was approaching too fast. He squeezed his eyes shut, bracing for impact.

WHAM

It took only a split second for the agony of slamming into the ground to set in.

His ears rang. He couldn't see anything. An aggressive ache thrummed through his whole body. He couldn't tell what part of him had landed first; the pain came from everywhere.

Raph couldn't breathe.

Lungs flattened, chest crushed, air stolen, whatever had happened left him unable to inhale.

A blurry world around him spun, flickering like a candle.

Everything came back into sharp, slicing focus.

And Raph finally sucked in a breath. And another. And another.

Before he could fully catch said breath, a hoof came down on his chest. Raph focused on Draxum towering above him.

"You're just as durable as I intended you to be. Excellent."

He could head his brothers distantly calling out to him. Raph opened his mouth to say that he was fine, but everything hurt too much to form words.

Draxum stepped off of him. The vine dragged him along the ground. His skin felt raw from the fall, and being scraped along stone made Raph's legs sting. If the pain hadn't been so big, Raph might have been scared.

Draxum didn't drag him far. The room Raph was pulled into had a huge metal door, but Draxum didn't close it.

Noticing Raph's unfocused eyes lingering on it, the sheepman grinned. "I want your brothers to hear your screams. It will be... motivation."

Only then did Raph look around the chamber. Chains sprawled across the floor like tangled tree roots. Metal tables stained in different shades of red and brown rested in corners. One wall was nothing but sharp, spikey tools splattered with the same shades.

Damp musk hung in the air. Like a blow to the gut, it made Raph think of the sewers of his home. It wasn't fair for this place of pain to smell like that. Underneath the haunting aromas of home, however, was something deeper and more primal.

Raph recognized it from the corpse flower.

Rot.

And blood.

The fear had blossomed into terror. The terror was much, much bigger than the pain now.

Raph was shoved against one of the bigger tables. The chill of it bit through his uniform worse than the unforgiving cage had.

Cold metal clamps wound their way around Raph's wrists, ankles, and neck.

Draxum pressed some buttons and a soft buzzing filled the room like a den of dozing wasps.

"H-hey," Raph managed. "Let's, uh, let's talk about this."

"I gave you the chance to talk of your own volition. This was your choice. Let's try this again." Draxum's face lit up in an insane grin. He reached for a lever.

"What are you going to do to me," Raph whispered.

"This."

Draxum yanked the switch down, and for a sick second, Raph was reminded of Donnie playing mad scientist.

The buzzing roared to life. Excruciating pain shot through Raph, thousands of tiny electric needles, as red lightning arched through him.

He couldn't even scream.

Worse than hitting the ground. Worse than than anything he had ever felt.

Worst of all, something deep inside of him was twisting, writing, fighting, tearing apart.

And then it was gone, leaving nothing but aches in its wake.

"Awful, isn't it?"

Raph let out a pitiful noise like a tiny wounded animal.

"I made you, you ungrateful brute. I know exactly how much pressure I must apply to break you. Tell me where the Dark Armor is."

"I don't know," Raph whimpered. "None of us know."

Draxum's fingers wrapped around the lever again. "If that's what you choose."

Crimson lightning, like bloody sparks shot through him again. Raph couldn't move. Pinned in place by pain, all he could do was feel his muscles spasm. Surely, they were shriveling, tearing from his bones.

He could feel the places where the metal touched him burning burning burning burning--

Whatever it was inside of him that was wailing in agony was dying. He could feel it. Trembling apart and leaving a void behind.

"Please," Raph rasped.

When it was over again, there were tears flowing down Raph's face and smoke curling off of his uniform.

He could barely breathe with unyielding metal circling his throat.

"You know how to get it to stop."

"Please..."

"This really is quite the marvelous contraption. You see, it runs off of mystic power. Your very own mystical energy is being drained and repurposed as electricity. I'm sure your the purple one could explain the laws of energy to you."

He already had. Energy cannot be created or destroyed. Only transformed.

Raph missed his brother.

"All this can be over if you just tell me what you know, turtle."

"Raph doesn't know! It's lost. Please... please make it stop." A sob bubbled out of Raph. Everything hurt.

He twitched as a random zap of energy cut through him.

"Liar."

Draxum wrenched the lever.

Now that Raph knew what was happening, it was even worse. He could feel his ninpo cracking. Cold loneliness flooded his chest as his connection to his family wanted.

Agony.

Sharp, angry TV static filled his limbs. Parts of his suit were burning away.

Through it all, the the horrific, overwhelming pain only worsened.

Raph was screaming.

It burned his throat even more, but he couldn't help it.

And yet it kept going.

On and on and on.

Make it stop.

Make it stop.

MAKE IT STOP.

Millions of miles away, he heard the switch flip. But the lightning continued to envelop him. The pain continued to ricochet through his shell.

Raph convulsed, straining and slamming against the restraints despite the awful stinging where he'd been burned.

Finally, he sagged back against the table. Horrible, gasping, ugly sobs were torn from his raw throat. Hot tears flowed down his face, pooling in his ears.

Raph was drained in every sense of the word. Cold darkness had swallowed his lungs. He was more alone than he had ever been in his life.

And absolutely

EVERYTHING

every bone, blood vessel, and cell of his body

hurt.

At the other end of a long tunnel, Draxum's voice echoed back to him. "...aybe your brothers will."

No!

But Raph couldn't say it. He could barely even think it.

The inky void welling behind his plastron spilled into his vision. Raph's eyes were so heavy... so heavy...

He twitched, feeling the dregs of ninpo within him try to rekindle itself.

And for the second time, Raph fell.

Down

Down

Down

Down

Down

---

The agonized wails of Donnie's older brother were magnified a thousand times as they echoed off the walls.

Gutteral, desperate screams that made Donnie sick to his stomach were made even worse by the knowledge that they were Raph's.

Raph. Infallible, immovable, incredible.

Raph. Sobbing, screaming, shrieking.

Never in all of Donnie's life had he heard his older brother sound like this.

Mikey had long since retreated into his shell, his Hamato uniform pulling and folding in weird ways. Leo sat with his knees pulled up to his chest and his eyes wide. Unseeing. Donnie sat next to Mikey with his hands pressed over his ears.

It did nothing to stop the third round of screams.

Playtime was over.

Their time parading around the city, skating and laughing and pretending to be heros was over.

Innocence rocked, worldview shattered, there was nothing they could do to fix such a broken situation.

Raph went quiet.

Not silent, thankfully; Donnie could still hear gasping sobs.

Leo was clutching his chest. "I feel it," he whispered. "He's doing something to- to Raph's powers."

Mikey let out a strangled cry from inside his shell.

"Mikey must feel it too," Leo said softly. Donnie had never heard him speak so flatly. It was unnerving. "You're lucky you can't feel it, Don."

"No I'm not," Donnie whispered. Even as he said it, he thought Leo might be wrong. The tightness in his chest wasn't like normal anxiety. It ran deeper.

Draxum bellowed something and they all flinched.

The echoes of his booming voice faded away...

Silence.

Unnerving, imperfect silence.

CLANG!

Without warning, vines wrapped around the bars of the cage. Leo and Donnie yelled, startled.

The door wrenched open and one of them wrapped around Mikey's quivering shell, pulling him away.

"MIKEY!" Leo leaped after him, grabbing fistfuls of fabric as he dangled over the drop. Donnie reached out after them--

Something huge and heavy slammed into Donnie, forcing him back into the cage. The door clanged shut. Pinned beneath a mass of singed fabric, Donnie could only hear the pleas of Leo and the muffled cries of Mikey fade away.

As Donnie wiggled out from under the motionless mountain, he realized--

"Raph!"

Donnie scrambled to his knees, looking over his older brother as best he could.

It wasn't great.

Raph's neck and wrists looked raw and shiny, and the fabric around them had definitely been burned away. One eye was swollen and Donnie had a nasty feeling there would be bruises already blooming under his mask. Under the scraps of remaining suit was probably a mess too. Raph had fallen a LONG way.

And then Donnie realized Raph wasn't moving.

Donnie shook his shoulder. "Raph? Raph, wake up. Wake up! No no no no no, don't do this to me, Raphael! Raph! RAPH!"

He was breathing at least... Shallowly. Raggedly. Practically wheezing.

"Oh I wish Nardo were here. He'd know what to do. The dumb dumb jumped out after Michael." Donnie dragged his hands over his face. To be fair, he'd rather Mikey not be totally alone. So maybe it was good Leo was with him. Or maybe watching each other get hurt would be even worse...

Donnie tried to take a deep breath.

"This is a mess," he whispered. "It wasn't supposed to go like this. Oh my brownie we're going to die here. He's going to kill us over withholding information we literally don't know--!"

A large hand weakly closed around Donnie's wrist.

"Raph? Raph ohmigosh you're awake! Are you okay? What happened? How do you feel? What hurts?"

But Raph didn't answer. His breathing deepened and his grip tightened. Maybe that was all he had the energy for. Raph, who must have been in so much pain and so incredibly exhausted... was using what little energy he had to comfort Donnie. A lump formed in Donnie s throat.

He didn't have any words to offer. Not for comfort, not for empty promises, not for vows or revenge. Nothing.

He took his free hand, the one not being squeezed by Raph, and softly rubbed his older brother's head.

"I've got you, Raphie. Just... just rest, okay?"

A soft whine of gratitude rose from Raph's chest, melting into deeper breathing.

Donnie refused to look too closely at what had been done to his brother. He wasn't sure he could handle it. Helpless, he just kept rubbing Raph's head.

There was nothing else he could do.

The cruel mockery of a peaceful moment was shattered an instant later as a new, equally painful sound split the air.

Mikey was screaming.

[zenkindoflove]

Elucien, #19 - for luck? Thanks!

19...for luck

“I don’t think I can do it.”

“You can.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I know.”

Elain shook her head, “You have too much faith in my abilities.”

Lucien smiled as he placed a kiss on her neck. “That’s because I know you can do it.”

Elain sighed in disgust, “But it’s going to be… wet.”

“Yeah, it is,” Lucien grunted as Elain elbowed him in his ribs.

“You can’t make jokes like that when I’m bent over.”

“I think that’s the perfect time,” Lucien stroked his hands up her waist. Elain backed into him, wiggling just enough to entice him before pulling forward again.

“Focus, Lucien.”

“Fine, fine, fine,” Lucien bent over her, aligning their bodies. He hung his arms low beside hers, guiding her hands. “Okay, remember what I told you. Don’t overthink it. You just need to relax your body. If you tense, it won’t work.”

“I’m too nervous not to tense.”

He squeezed her hip in encouragement.

“Maybe a kiss first? For luck?” Elain looked over her shoulder, batting her long eyelashes at him.

“Anything for you, doll,” Lucien leaned forward, lifting one of his hands to tilt her face so he had better access. He kissed her sweetly at first, a short peck, but then he leaned forward, heat building low in his groin as he was drawn into her spell. He captured her mouth in a more sensual hold, his other hand running up her side to cup her breast, unable to resist her.

Elain tore away from him with a lovely, reprimanding smile on her face, “Enough of that. We can celebrate later if this works.”

Elain inhaled a deep, stilling breath. She squatted down, assuming the position with Lucien right behind her. She relaxed all of her muscles, opening her body to acceptance, ready to feel the new sensation that had made her quiver in fear and curiosity.

She felt it, just a little poke at first. Then a wriggle. Then, its whole long body was there, right between her hands. She snatched quickly, ripping the fish out of the water, wriggling and thrashing between her hands.

“I did it!” She screeched. She suddenly remembered exactly what she held, as the slimy texture registered in her mind. Her fingers loosened just enough that the fish jumped right out of her hands. Lucien dove for it, catching it before it crashed back into the river. He landed on his back, his head dunking under the water, keeping his arms extended above as he held out the fish.

“Oh no!” Elain gasped. “Lucien! I’m so sorry. I… I had it! I swear.”

Lucien spat water out of his mouth as he sat up, completely drenched. The fish gulped and wriggled between his strong hands.

“It still counts, right?” Elain asked sheepishly.

“Oh, it counts,” Lucien smiled, his white teeth glittering, as he stood up from the river. He waded over to the edge to deposit the fish with the others. “You caught it on your own and that’s what matters.”

Elain hopped in triumph, the water around her shins splashing as she kicked her feet, “I’m eating that one. I caught it, so I earned it.”

Lucien quickly snatched her into his arms and Elain squealed as he dripped water all over her.

“And I caught this one,” he announced with a wicked grin, throwing Elain over his shoulder and making a beeline for their camp.

Kiss prompts.

[radiantbrilliance]

i'm convinced xavier is a dom. he went so long without mc that he needs to be in control so he doesn't lose her again.

[imaginespazzi]

Omfg I just had an idea for a fight scene you could write in GH and I knowww you love angst so!

Paige and Azzi can be in an argument, and it can be about Stephie in some way. And Paige is trying to make some decisions involving Stephie but then Azzi yells that Stephie is her child, not theirs.

I know that would killll Paige but the angst would be cruel and insane lmaoooo.

How/why Paige and Azzi make up after that argument, I have no idea! That’s all on you Nivi if you wanna incorporate this idea haha

- 🤪

Something like this is gonna happen at some point. Maybe not quite exactly in this way but trust you might be in my head a little bit anon and when we get to it, I'd love your thought!

[amiserableseriesofevents]

[ tip-toe ] for a kiss on the forehead for clegan please ? 👉🏻👈🏻🥺

(I did not forget about you! I just had to decide which scenario to go with 🥰)

Something's wrong.

Bucky's dreaming of something pleasant, for once, and yet he startles awake when a voice in his dream whispers him that. Something is wrong.

Sleep still fogs his mind, battling with the alertness the rest of his body is feeling — ready to jump, run, fight. There are things that never go away, no matter how much time comes to pass; he knows he's needed somewhere, he just can't understand where.

Is this England? Or is it Germany?

One bleary look around the room and the answer comes to him, his muscles relax, he draws a breath; home, he's home. A farmhouse in Illinois, a porch, a cat. Buck.

It's summer so they left the windows open, a cool breeze rustling the soft gingham curtains as the moonlight shines silver on the hardwood floor, on the plain wallpaper, on the empty mattress to his left.

So, that's what's wrong.

Groaning and stiff, Bucky stands — maybe he's getting too old to sit in weird and uncomfortable positions all day, sculpting furniture for their home. "Buck?" He calls even if he knows he won't get any answer.

He looks for the t-shirt he didn't bother to put on when they went to bed, it was too hot to care, but he can't find it where he's sure he left it discarded on the floor, and feels a sudden pang at his heart; he knows what it means.

Silently as he can he makes his way to their bathroom, and sure enough he finds the door ajar. The lamps are off but the moonlight shines here too, solemn and pure, tinting Buck's hair silver just as much as sunlight usually tints it golden; he's in the empty bathtub, legs hugged to his chest, chin resting on the bony knees — his legs still look the same as they did when he was a teenager, Bucky discovered it a few years ago when they found a box of old pictures from the things Gale brought back from his Ma's. The same sharp lines and lean muscles, the same soft hair and silver scars.

He's wearing Bucky's shirt, as he'd suspected, the too long, too large sleeves covering him up to his elbows, the wide collar exposing the pale skin of his chest, covered in goosebumps even if he's sweaty. He's staring into nothing, eyes gleaming in the moonlight, breath a little hurried.

"Buck," Bucky tries again, approaching him slowly. "How are you doing?"

("Are you ok?" Is a stupid question neither of them asks the other anymore in times like this, they don't feel the need to lie to each other nor to hide their pain.)

"Nightmare," is Buck's answers but it still feels Bucky with relief; he's coherent, albeit still distant, which means the worst has passed.

"You didn't wake me up."

"Didn't wanna. Didn't scream."

Buck takes another shuddering breath. "Got your shirt, got here. Safer."

Bucky steps closer, kneels next to the tub. He cards a hand through Buck's hair, light as a feather. "I know. Do you want to come back to bed now or do you want to stay here a little longer?"

"Bed."

"Alright," Bucky says, and helps Buck step out of the bathtub. He makes a gesture as if to pick him up, bridal style, but the other scoffs and glares at him — which is another good sign, in Bucky's book.

Once they're back in bed Buck tries to turn his back on him and curl on himself, enveloped in the fabric hug of Bucky's shirt, but Bucky won't have any of it. He pulls Buck towards him and manhandles him until he's laying on his side, one arm across Bucky's chest and one leg across his thighs, bent at the knee.

"But you'll be hot," Buck says even if he's already cozying up, chin on Bucky's shoulder as the other man holds him closer and strokes his back slowly as he knows Buck likes it. He looks up at Bucky with half-lidded eyes, distant for he's falling asleep and not for the plaguing nightmares anymore; there's even the hint of a smile on his lips.

Bucky shushes him, plants a soft kiss on his damp forehead. "Nevermind that. Now you go back to sleep, I'll keep the night at bay."

Reassured, Buck closes his eyes. "Until dawn comes," he murmurs, disjointed and nonsensical.

"Until dawn comes," Bucky responds.

[elusivewildflower]

Noah Calhoun x Reader

Alright, nonnie, we're reaching the point of my newer ideas that haven't been written but have been bouncing around in my head (and in my discord) for a while so I finally added it to my WIPs.

Here's the plot idea for the Noah Calhoun x Reader fic!

Years ago, Allie chose Lon over Noah. A couple years later, you met Noah and the two of you fell in love. You knew a little bit about Allie, his first love, but he neglected to ever tell you that he built the house you lived in together specifically for her.

That each and every detail you grew to love about the house had all been done because she wanted it that way. That the house had been his last ditch effort to make her come back to him, to prove that he loved her like no one else ever would.

Reader happens to run into Allie at the hair salon in town and although the two don't know each other, she overhears her gossiping with friends about her first love.

You're not jealous of Allie, per se, but you are devastated and angry that Noah deliberately kept this information from you. When you get back home, tears streaming down your pretty face, you unleash your anger on Noah.

It's angsty as hell, and Noah has to convince you that he's not secretly in love with Allie.

WIP ASK GAME

[vangh17a]

I just dreamt there was a Wanderer update, and there was so much angst it woke me up because I wanted to read it again.

Let's just say I was confused

wait hold on

you mean to say you dreamt about Wanderer?

This alone, my dear friend, has made me wield my pen to work on the next update

[cupophrogs]

Can we send him a letter? At least to tell him you found rich (autocorrected to rise for some reason)

Sadly, there's no way to get anything sent from inside the factory. Drew got really upset the first time Poppy suggested contacting his Uncle. Nothing goes through, this far underground.

Drew grumbles to himself, straining to keep his frustration quiet while the others sleep huddled together. He sits away from the big snuggle pile of toys, leaning against the wall and staring at his phone screen. He hits his knee in frustration.

"Oh come on, you piece of shit!" He whispers, anger boiling beneath his sternum. Taking a deep breath, he tugs at his hair, praying to the stale air that something - just one message - would go through. The blue bar at the top of his screen disappears, and a red text box reading "Not delivered" loads in below his texts.

A broken, hopeless whine tears through Drews throat before he can stop it. He freezes, pursing his lips to stifle any more sounds in fear of waking his friends. In her sleep, one of Kissy's soft hands slides next to his foot, resting against it.

Drew breaks.

As quietly as he can manage, Drew sets his phone aside and lays down on the dirty floor, pulling Kissy's hand to his face with trembling fingers. He holds it to his forehead while his tears clear paths on his face through the grime.

He needs help.

Just one message.

[nixie-deangel]

Maybe this will work?

Request please: 🥹😎

😎 win a date with jake - hangster

Fuck, fuck, he couldn’t believe he’d spent the whole night rambling on and on and on about himself! He knew he’d tank the date but he hadn’t thought he’d be that kind of asshole to Jake. Bringing his hands up, he scrubbed harshly at his face as he stumped his way towards his Bronco.  He shouldn’t have come. He should have just let Jake think he’d been stood up instead of putting up with what a self absorbed asshole Bradley had been all night. “Bradshaw! Bradley!”

🥺 chap2 of helper - a/b/o hangster

Bradley arches, wincing as he feels his skin pull taught where it shouldn’t be tender. Brow furrowing as his lips twist into a frown, he lifts his head enough and blanches as he takes in the state of what he can see of his body.  He knows he shouldn’t be littered with bruises and marks in the shape of a mouth. Stomach rolling, he gingerly moves himself up till his sitting before the memories hit him. The way his heat had suddenly sprung up on him while getting checked out in medical. The way he squirmed and pleaded, begging strangers, begging Mav to get him his Alpha. To get him his Jake. He feels his stomach roll harshly as he chastises himself at the thought. Jake wasn’t his. Jake didn’t want to be his Alpha. Jake had walked away from him, from them.

Make Nixie Write This Weekend!

[not-5-rats]

*hallucination, spiral thingy* You want to answer Bug questions, you totally do

1) What's your Bugs fav spooky creature? (Eg; vampires, skeletons, ghosts, etc)

2) What's your Bugs pain tolerance like?

3) Modern! AU

Your Bug has been dragged to a night-club, are they enjoying themself?

4) Scenario!!!

Chez had to go back to his childhood house, his Father hadn't been home for a week and his Mother was still staying with his auntie to try and get over...things, so he had to take care of Fran and Daisy, neither of which wanted to leave home. Chez didn't want to alone, that house gives him so many memories, good and bad, it was overwhelming to be there alone so Bugs been dragged along!

They were all in the living room, Daisy was running around, climbing over all the furniture as Chez tried to get her to calm down. Fran on the other hand was peacefully sat playing with puppets, Bug being forced to watch her show

Then the door opened and Audrey walked in, Daisy was the first to spot her and happily ran over calling for her sister joyously, Daisy jumped into Audrey arms and she held her close

"Daisy! Oh darling! I thought you were with auntie Lis-"

She spotted Bug and Chez, her smile dropped slightly as she put Daisy back on the floor. She stared at Chez as she tried to suppress the anger sparking in her eyes

"Chester, didn't expect to see you and your..."

She glanced at Bug then back to Chez

"friend. Could we have a word in the kitchen please?"

Chez and Audrey go to the kitchen, mere seconds later yelling is heard. Audrey is angry because after he killed her bf she had told Chez to leave and never come back to the house. Chez argued that he had to come to take care of the kids since she decided work was more important than them. She kept saying he promised never to come back and he kept saying that what he did was justified, Erik was abusive why was she defending him?

As the yelling got louder Daisy got quieter, Fran seemed unaffected, choosing to ignore the yelling from next door but Daisy...she was too young to do that, she was forced to hear everything being said. Then she sat beside Bug, looked up at them and spoke with tears in her eyes

"why do Ray and Chezzy hate each other? *sniff* Is this why they left me with Auntie?"

What does your bug do?

5) What's their view on love? Do they believe 'true love' exists or love at first sight?

Tags -

@puffin-smoke @rozeliyawashereyall @willowve01 @asmrbrainrot @kaiamtt @iistxrmyskyii @insignificant-anarchy @stxph-artist @aspenm00n @keyaartz @fangsshadow @rustycopper4use @piffany666 @dreamyshape @idontevenknow7878 @lunaritychuwolf @littlesiren79 @castbracelet240 @strayharmony943 @proxdragon @tiefling-chaos @threeweekinsomnia @recated @wilderrorcard @diamondzoey @fennaboysenberry @lunnats @lightdragon789 @pinkcocopuff-aqualoid @itsargyle @astralbulldragon13 @ccstiles

[spilledmilkfkdies]

The Wizards *done with everything going trough the trial,no bad intentions*

Nabu : We killed Duman your evil plan is over

The wizards :....

Morgana:....

Nebula:...

Sybilla: Ok we need to do a double trial

Wizard on wizard violence and its consequences 😔😔 (more trails)

And it's so?? Like no matter which way you spin it, even if they end up with valid arguments that have you going "Yeah fair enough", you already know peace will be OFF the table if Nabu faces consequences the remaining Black Circle members consider too mild- It'd be such a mess and I doubt there's an outcome where everyone's satisfied because DAMN the situation is. Yeah.

But. Then again. There's still the uh. Gift thing that can resurrect a person. So maybe they'll figure it out way quicker after all. Enhanced comedic effect: Have Duman be at his own murder trail. "I call the next witness to the stand" and it's the fucking murder victim?? Deranged.

[ingo-ingoing-ingone]

For the first time since his brother had become a demon, Kudari gets to ride a train. Nobori and his other friends are there too, and for a while, things are nice. That changes when a powerful demon attacks. Kudari has to first face his inner demons if he ever hopes to defeat the one endangering the passengers. Lucky for him, he has a brother who would never let him down.

Hey! Happy Pokemon Day!

I am FINALLY posting, at long last, my @destinationunownzine fic! Figured today was a great choice lol. Thank you, mods, who organized the fic and let me participate <3 It was literally a dream come true!

It's my Demon Slayer AU! I need to share more about this one ngl, it's been a while since I thought about it! Either way, please enjoy this fic free for all to read <3