#flashbacks tw

[brctherscnce]

Today had been an attempt to make progress.

To find supplies. To make a ship. To begin the slow journey to try to get home. They had the scrap, they could make it work-- the issue was the need for energy, for power, for communications, all of it.

And yet, like with many things, it was as if the universe wished to curse Optimus for his attempts to focus on himself. While today was nothing too bad-- they'd managed to keep away from Cemetery Wind AND the TRF-- it was his own processor working against him that was the issue. He'd first awoken that day to what felt like the old, warped metal on the side of his helm having flared with pain-- that was something he had gotten used to.

It was when the memories chose to haunt him during a temporary recharge period that he could never get used to.

As always, if only out of necessity, his expression was neutral if not a little bit more cold. His stoic visage hid what he'd been truly thinking, what was plaguing him, but it was when he found a palm being pressed against one of his arm plates that it made him tense-- his optics bore into the other person, becoming a somewhat darkened, dull blue in contrast to the brighter icy blue they often had.

" ... please. Don't-- do not touch me. "

[demainvient]

it's okay. you're with me.

they wake screaming. they wake with a sound ripping from their throat like a knife. like a blade slipped through their chest, through fabric and gustave remembers feeling it scrape against the metal of their heart, nicking and scratching at the gears and wires and maelle's face, maelle's face --

( they remember thinking oh, there's blood there. it shouldn't be there. the wide, whale-eyed terror on her face, her eyes so blue-grey in the overcast light. they remember wondering what was wrong, things were fine, the rock in their hands slipping from the grasp and landing in a wet plop in the ground. the crackle of lightning overhead. they remember, they remember -- )

they wake screaming, the word run on their lips ( blood coating their teeth, soaking their tongue, wet and terrified ) limbs flailing and untangling from sheets. they're wet, sweat-soaked and shaking, it's raining? no, can't be, they're inside. they're inside.

it's okay you're with me. a voice snaps at them, like a whip gustave turns, wild eyed towards the source and staring with a tremor wrecking their whole body, a hand to their chest as their heart struggles to keep up with the short breaths that don't reach their lungs fully. their fingers dance along the edges of chroma, blade half-formed and distorted like they can't fully hold the image of it.

"i'm --" it comes out choked, hoarse, their mouth is too wet and gustave gags even though it's tasteless and not the salt-iron of blood, the sensation is enough. their body crumbles against the wall on the far side of the room, limbs bending like paper under too much weight and curling inward to press so small against the wall. they don't know why they want to be small ( harder to find, because what if, panic stutters their chest ), head jerking to look back up at her with that terror again, seeing but not seeing.

"run, please." there's rain on their cheeks, their eyes sting, fingers pressing desperately to their chest as if it will hold in all the blood that's not gushing out of them.

[fletcherwilbury]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/64571155

@sicktember 2024: Day 20 - Medication Bribery

Warning for Illness, medication, flashbacks, past child abuse, past physical abuse, nausea

[moonglowmuses]

adam used to have next to zero ability to regulate his own emotions. having the bonds that he had here, that had changed to some degree. he still struggled, though. there were times when his memories had him in a chokehold and he had to beg for help. now was not as extreme of an example, but, as he was walking, he settled himself on a step, almost totally unaware of the presence of another person. when he noticed them, his cheeks grew red. "i... uh... sorry. i didn't see you there. if i'm in your way, i can get out of here now."

@txrtxrxdmuxsxdpt

[the-sparkling-diamond-satine]

🌹🌹🌹

for every "🌹" received in my inbox i'll post one random sentence of a random WIP i'm currently writing tw: flashbacks

“No!” Satine screams, chest heaving, burying her face in her knees, trying to curl herself into a ball, to make herself as small as possible. “Please don’t make me,” she sobs, “I don’t want to, I don’t want to!” “Satine,” the other person says, voice catching on a sob of their own that she doesn’t understand, “you’re safe. [...]"

[alexxcarrasco]

51. SALVAGE : for one muse to retrieve the other’s belongings from a thief. (Gael does the retrieving)

Alex had been waiting for Gael outside the bar. He was already ten minutes late, which wasn't exactly unusual but normally he kept her updated on his ETA. As she pulled her phone out of her pocket, someone jumped out at her from the shadows. Alex was shoved to the ground -- her phone flying out of her hands and falling on the ground a few feet away from her.

Hands were on her, searching until they found the purse which had nudged beneath her back during the fall. "Fuck off!" She screamed as her mind flashed back to when she encountered the stranger in the ally a couple of months ago. A stranger that she found out that she knew.

The thief yanked her purse from her body and took off running, leaving Alex on the ground, gasping for air -- trying to gain control over her mind that threatened to spiral. She hadn't thought she was affected by her encounter with Mathias. But clearly, her body still remembered. She was sweating and her hands were shaking as she heard footsteps approach her.

Her eyes lifted, brimming with tears, to see a blurred face that she'd recognize anywhere. "Gael." He came. Alex lifted the edge of her shirt to her eyes, dabbing at them to try not to mess up her makeup. She blinked and focused, noticing that not only did he have her purse, but he'd also retrieved her phone. "Thank you." She sucked in a deep breath and let it out before pushing herself back to her feet. "Shall we go inside?"

@gledesma

[walker-extended-universe]

We Go Down Together, Chapter 3

Relationship(s): Cassie Perez & Cordell Walker, Ben Perez & Cassie Perez

Tags/Warnings: Captivity, Fighting, Escape, Trauma, Aftermath of Trauma, Poor Mental Heath, Flashbacks, Triggers

Summary: Cassie and Cordell escape captivity. At least, physically they do. Mentally is another story entirely.

Taglist: @theladywyn, @ihavepointysticks, @klaatu51, @itsjessiegirl1, @neptunium134

-------

After what happened yesterday, Cordell wasn’t going to wait around for a rescue anymore. Seeing what they did to Cassie only proved to him that these guys weren’t playing around. They were going to break him or kill Cassie trying and he couldn’t let that happen.

“We’re getting out of here today,” he said quietly after their breakfast was delivered.

Cassie paused in her struggle to reach her MRE without agitating her broken ribs. “We are? How?”

Cordell got it for her, opening it as he handed it to her. “I’ve got a plan. I’m gonna need you to play along with me on this one.”

Cassie nodded and nibbled on her “meal”. “What’s the plan, partner?”

Cordell sighed. “You’re not gonna like it but… I’m gonna need you to play damsel in distress.”

She rolled her eyes. “If it gets us out of here, I think I’ll manage. What do you need me to do?”

At least she wasn’t complaining about it. “I need you to act like you’re really hurt. I”ll call the guards in and tell them they need to help you or I’ll never comply. Once they’re in, I think we can overpower them and get the keys and rescue ourselves and Julia.”

Cassie nodded. “Gotcha. I think I can handle that. Did I ever tell you I was a theater kid?”

Cordell chuckled. “No, but I’m sure that’ll come in handy.”

He waited until after they’d both eaten. He’d started to lose track of time during their captivity, but he knew they had a little time to prepare themselves before the guards would show up for their “fun”.

“Alright, just lay still and act really pitiful,” he said once they were both ready.

She rolled her eyes but complied. “Ready when you are, Walker.”

He winked at her and started yelling for help, hoping someone was wandering around close enough to hear it. As soon as someone answered his calls, he launched into the play. “She’s not breathing right! I don’t know what the hell you did to her but if she dies, you may as well kill me too because I’m not joining your little anarchy LARP.” He tried not to think too hard about how easy that rolled off his tongue. He also tried not to think too hard about how Cassie’s exaggerated coughs tugged at his heart.

With the men distracted by Cassie, Cordell made his move, tackling the one closest to the door and knocking him out against the metal bars. Cassie then kicked up, knocking back one of the other two guys. Cordell stopped the third from grabbing her and held him in a chokehold. “Where’s Julia?” he hissed. “The woman that was above us, where did you move her?”

“First floor, cell 3,” he wheezed as he ran out of air.

Cordell didn’t let him go until he was completely out and he looked up to see Cassie unlocking herself from her leash. “Got the keys,” she said, brandishing the key ring as she stood up. “Let’s go.”

Cordell nodded and grabbed a spare pistol and a phone off of one of the unconscious men. “Let’s do this.”

They moved through the labyrinth of halls quickly. Almost too quickly. There was no one around the halls to slow them down. Normally Cordell would be suspicious but he wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

They made it to Julia’s new cell and he quickly unlocked the door, almost getting a fist to the face for his trouble. Luckily, Julia recognized their voices and they were back in business. They stealthily made their way to an exit and were about to leave- until an alarm sounded for their escape.

They hid behind some boxes while guards ran back to their abandoned cell. Once it was clear, Cordell was ready to lead the charge out of there- until he saw the symbol on the boxes he was crouching behind. He’d seen that symbol before in his Marine days- he couldn’t let these maniacs use what was inside them.

“Cassie, you’ve gotta get Julia out of here,” he said once they reached the door.

Cassie stared at him with wide, confused eyes. “What? What about you?”

“I’ve gotta take care of what’s in those boxes. I know what it is, it’s nasty stuff.”

“I’ll help-”

“No, Cass. You need to go.” He handed her the phone. “Call James once you’re a safe distance away. I’ll catch up.”

Cassie took the phone. “Good luck. We’ll be back for you, partner.”

Cordell nodded. “I know.”

With that, they parted ways.

Running into Sean on his way to hide the dangerous chemicals in the radiation wing was unexpected. So was the grenade Sean pulled out after Cordell shot him in the shoulder.

Cordell didn’t really remember how he made it out. He just remembered that it didn’t really matter once he had his eyes on Cassie again.

They were alive. They were okay.

Everything was gonna be okay.

—----

They were free. The nightmare was over.

She fidgeted in her loose hoodie while she waited in the atrium. She’d already given her statement and was waiting for Ben to pick her up and take her home. But first, she wanted to talk to Walker.

She didn’t even know where to begin on recovering from this. Her injuries would heal, the bruises would fade, but she wasn’t sure when she’d stop seeing that cage every time she closed her eyes.

If anyone would have answers, it would be Walker. He’d been through things like this before. Or, at least, similar things. He’d know how to answer questions she wasn’t sure she could bring herself to ask her new mandated therapist.

“Hey, Cassie.” Speak of the devil, Walker stepped in and walked up to her table. “You need a ride?”

“Uh, no. Ben’s coming to pick me up. But actually, I wanted to talk to you.”

“Uh, sure. About what?”

Cassie took a deep breath and tried to get her thoughts in order. “I…. You’ve dealt with stuff like this before. I mean, probably not exactly this but given your history…. You know how to deal with it, right?”

Walker nodded. “Yeah. Why?”

“....How do you deal with it? Because I’m not really sure what to do. It’s like every time I close my eyes-”

“Cass- Cassie.” Walker pet her shoulder and smiled tightly. “We- We don’t need to unload all that right now. We’re out, there’s arrests being made across the state. I know it doesn’t feel like it right now, but we’re okay. And after some time… you’ll feel okay. We just gotta keep going, alright? The only way out is through.”

That was…underwhelming advice. She’d been hoping for something a little more actionable. “I… If you say so….”

“Cassie!” Ben’s sudden arrival and crushing hug stopped her from pushing the issue further. She returned the hug just as tight. Part of her wanted to make a joke about missing Ben too but it got caught in her throat. “Thank god you’re back,” he murmured.

“Yeah,” was all she could say.

Ben pulled back just enough to Help her out of her chair. “Thanks for waiting with her,” he told Walker. “I’m just gonna take Cassie home now.”

“Actually, I wanted to ask y’all if you wanted to come to the ranch. Mama’s making a roast and I know the rest of the family would be happy to see you.”

Ben looked at her and Cassie tried not to look back. “I don’t know,” he said. “It’s late and I think Cassie just needs some rest. Maybe we can come over tomorrow?”

Walker smiled the way he usually smiled at members of the DPS brass he didn’t like “What? And waste a perfectly good welcome home party? Come on, it’ll be fun. Why wait to start things off on a good note?”

“That’s a kind offer, really,” Ben said, smiling the same smile he gave to demanding customers. “But I think-”

“I think it sounds great,” Cassie interjected. “I love a good roast.”

Walker smiled a little more genuinely. “Great! I’ll let everyone know. It’ll be great having you there.”

To his credit, Ben stayed quiet about his disagreement until they were in his car. But then….

“You know you don’t have to go if you don’t want to, right? We can just let them have their little family thing and I’ll just take you back to my place. I can just text Liam-”

“It’s fine, Ben.” Cassie tried to smile. “He’s right. Why wait to take things in the right direction? I’m sure I’ll feel better once I’ve eaten real food.”

“I have real food at my place.”

“But they’re expecting-”

“Cas, stop.” Ben sighed. “I know you don’t actually want to go to this thing, okay? I knew as soon as he brought it up. You’re gonna be miserable the whole time because people are going to be asking you how you are and you’re going to worry about slipping up and telling the truth and you’re probably not even going to be able to eat whatever they put on your plate. Just let me make an excuse for you and take you home? You’ll feel better, I promise.”

She shook her head. “Ben, I- It’s not about me pretending and failing. I know I’m not fine and they won’t expect me to be. I just…. I don’t know how to deal with this except to just push through it. It’s not like I’ll feel any better in the morning if I don’t go.”

Ben sighed. “Fine. But we’re leaving as soon as it’s over. Because you are tired and they have no excuse to keep us there longer.”

“Fine,” she agreed. “Just try not to be too ‘overprotective brother’ about it, okay? They’re not the bad guys here.”

“Sure.”

That was as good as she was going to get out of him and she wasn’t going to push it.

Though, as soon as they arrived, Cassie wondered if maybe she should’ve. It would’ve given her an excuse not to go in.

Even though she’d accepted the invitation and really did need a distraction from everything, she wasn’t sure she was ready for something like this. The Walker family had a tendency to be intense on a good day and it only got worse when emotions were high. It was only the thought of having to deal with Walker’s worried texts for the rest of the night if she didn’t show that made her walk through the front door.

In all honesty, it could’ve gone worse. There was too much worried hovering and Walker’s disaster of a “graduation speech” didn’t exactly set things off on a good note. But Abeline’s food was as good as ever and no one seemed to want to talk about the elephant in the room.

All in all, she’d had worse family dinners.

After they left, Ben drove her back to his apartment because it was closer. “I’ll take you back to your place in the morning,” he said. “Why don’t you grab a shower and I’ll make some sleepytime tea?”

Cassie smiled. “Sounds like a plan,” she said as she headed toward the bathroom. With the door closed behind her, Cassie got undressed after she started the water. Once she was ready, she put her hand in to test the temperature.

The cold water beat down on her arm and she jerked back, hitting the wall with a cry.

Cold. Cold. Waves and waves of cold. Choking. I can't breathe. They’re laughing. They’re enjoying this.

I’m going to die here.

“-ssie? Cassie?!”

Cassie flinched away from the voice, throwing off the hands that were shaking her shoulders. It took her a few moments to calm down and remember where she was, who she was with.

“You okay?” Ben asked softly.

Cassie shook her head. “I can’t- The shower, I can’t-”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay….” Ben rubbed her back and turned off the water. “How about I just run you a bath, hm? I think I have bubbles somewhere if you want them.”

Cassie nodded, not moving from her spot on the floor until he finished.

[ohanahoku-ao3]

Whumptober Day 23

This may be my favorite prompt fill so far. Hope you all like it! This is a continuation of my new Teen Wolf series, Tethered by the Shadows, so check that out first if you haven't! <3

Teen & Up - Gen - Teen Wolf

Control

     It was the weekend, five days since the incident, and Stiles still hadn’t slept. He was running on fumes, on caffeine and energy drinks that could only help for so long. He knew that avoiding sleep wasn’t sustainable. He knew he had to face it eventually, and at the rate things were going, it would happen sooner rather than later. If he kept pushing himself, it would be out of his control, and Stiles didn’t want that to happen. He had to control the situation, and that meant he had to welcome sleep willingly, a terrifying concept but one he couldn’t avoid.

     Thankfully, Stiles had a foolproof plan.

     After a late dinner, the sheriff left for his night shift, and Stiles watched his father leave through the blinds in the living room. As soon as the car disappeared from view, he moved into action. Firstly, he went around the house, locking every door and window as a precaution. It was less to protect himself and more to ensure the safety of anyone who might come by. The window shades were pulled on every window, and Stiles even went so far as to connect the mountain ash he had lined the house with shortly after the Kanima incident. The black dust fell through his fingers with a quiet ‘shh,’ and Stiles held his breath as he completed the circuit, imagining the forcefield it would make around his house. He exhaled shakily when it was done, always a bit breathless after working with the ash.

     A water bottle was procured from the kitchen, and Stiles moved to his room, surveying it for a moment before setting the bottle on his desk. He moved to the bed, reaching under it and dragging a storage box out from underneath. Metal gleamed when he popped the lid off, and Stiles hesitated for a moment before reaching in and grabbing the heavy chains. He pulled them out and looked at his desk with a critical eye before painstakingly wrapping the chains around the heavy wooden furniture. He checked to ensure they were tightly fastened and sure not to slip and reached into the box again, producing a set of sturdy manacles. After Scott had broken the handcuffs that night, Stiles had prepared for the future. Of course, he never wanted to have to chain Scott up again. It was merely a precaution and one he hadn’t foreseen as a tool he’d use on himself. Funny how that worked out.

     The manacles were carefully threaded through the chain and set on the floor. Stiles’ gaze lingered on them for a while, rubbing his thumb over the teeth of the small key that unlocked them, pressing the sharp mountains into his skin. At length, he set the key down next to them and pulled himself away. His sleeping bag and pillow found their way to the floor next to the desk, and Stiles huffed a breath of mild amusement to himself as he set the water bottle down next to them. If he ignored the chains, it would almost be like he and Scott were camping inside the way they did as kids. Not that Scott was going to be joining him. His best friend knew nothing about this, and that’s how Stiles wanted it, at least for the time being. Scott wouldn’t understand the situation. He had complete faith in the Yukimura’s and would likely assume Stiles was just being paranoid. He'd protest Stiles putting the chains on, thinking that he was enough to keep Stiles safe from his nightmares. But in truth, it was more than probable that Scott would be the one who needed the protection the chains provided. Scott wouldn’t be helpful in this situation, and Stiles knew that. He was alone, and it was fine. He had it under control.

     With his plan nearly ready, Stiles headed to the bathroom to relieve himself and brush his teeth. He stared listlessly at the floor while he brushed his teeth, eyes catching on a fragment of glass from the broken mirror. It sat in the corner, silently mocking him from the spot his father must’ve missed when the sheriff cleaned up Stiles’ mess. He left without picking it up, feet carrying him down the hall and into not his room but the glorified closet that had once been his mother’s sewing room. He walked in, ignoring the memories of his mother as he grabbed the huge, square mirror tucked away in the corner of the room. The mirror was soon propped up against Stiles’ bed, across from his sleeping bag, and Stiles stared down at the reflection of his feet for a moment before glancing towards the window nearest his bed. He grabbed the tilt rod, twisting it until the blinds separated just enough to let a little light in once he flipped the switch.

     A yawn overtook him as he stepped away from the window, and he took his time getting dressed, letting himself feel the onset of exhaustion in a way he hadn’t let himself dwell on in several days. The sleepless nights had taken a toll on him. He could feel it in the way his muscles ached, how his very bones felt weary and discouraged as they held him up. His eyes felt bloodshot hot, and one of his eyes had developed a subtle twitch sometime during the last forty-eight hours. His hands shook in a mixture of tiredness and anxiety, and his head felt too heavy to keep upright. All this to say that Stiles needed sleep desperately, and he was finally ready to surrender to that need.

     He surveyed the room one more time before flipping the switch. Light leaked through the slitted blinds, pale and weak from the streetlamps outside. Stiles’s heart sped up as he shuffled to his sleeping bag through the dark. He slipped his legs into the bedroll and found the key on the floor, heart racing as he held the tiny bit of metal in his hand. It would work. His plan was foolproof.

     With a short cry of determination, Stiles threw the key away from him, watching as it hit the wall beneath the window and fell into the dark below it. Immediately, he wanted to go after it, heart pounding in his ears as he held himself back. He was going to sleep. He was going to confront the thing inside him on his own terms, and the chains were necessary to ensure he couldn’t hurt himself. Or anyone else.

     The metal was cold as it closed around his wrists, and Stiles’ breath hitched as panic-fueled adrenaline flooded through him. Suddenly, he felt like he was back in Eichen House’s basement, trapped and hurt and terrified as the Nogitsune paced around in the dark. He wasn’t back there, though. He was home, in his room, and the chains on his wrists would keep him safe. He wasn’t trapped; he was protected in this way. He just had to ignore the panic, breathe through it, and calm himself down. Slowly, while taking practiced breaths, Stiles slid further into the sleeping bag, laying his head down on his pillow as he closed his eyes. He could do this. It was going to be fine. He was in control.

     Following that train of thought, Stiles turned his head, staring at himself in the mirror for the first time since the incident. His reflection stared back, a perfect imitation with no indication that it wasn’t him. Its hand moved when his did, and in the minimal lighting, he could see its mouth moved along with his. “This time, we’ll do this my way. I’m the one in control, not you.” He waited a moment for a response, and when none came, he looked away and closed his eyes. With a slow breath, Stiles let the exhaustion take over and tumbled headlong into slumber.

Tethered by the Shadows

     “Stiles.” A voice called to him. “Stiles, I know you can hear me. Wake up and face me.”

     Stiles’ eyes snapped open as he woke with a jolt, arms flailing through an aborted movement as the chains limited his mobility.

     “There he is. The man with a plan.” The voice mocked, and when Stiles looked over, his reflection stared back at him. The moon had come out, and its light streamed through the blinds, its pale blue shine casting a ladder of shadows onto the floor between them. It was brighter than the streetlamps, and as Stiles’ eyes adjusted, he could make out his rogue reflection in whole. “Didn’t think this through very well, did you, Stiles? After all, who’s going to unlock you come morning?”

     The shadow was staring down at him, sitting up with its hands listlessly laid in its lap while Stiles was still lying on his back. Looking up at it, Stiles couldn’t help but feel small under the thing’s gaze in the mirror. He scrambled to sit up, ignoring the look of amusement on the shadow’s face. “I don’t care.” He spat. “I’ll tell the others, and we’ll find some way to get rid of you. For good this time.” 

     A hum answered him, and the shadow reached up to itch its nose in an oddly normal gesture that made Stiles feel off-kilter. The reflection glanced at its fingers and made a flicking motion like he was brushing away dead skin from his fingers. “I don’t think you will.” It said, dark gaze finding Stiles once more. “I think you’re too scared to tell them about me.”

     “I’m not afraid.” Stiles retorted, clenching his hands into fists as he glared at the mirror.

     “It does you no service to lie to me, Stiles.” The thing answered with a smirk. “You’re terrified of what they may do to you. They may have to kill you for real, isn’t that right? Or worse? Perhaps they’ll put you back in Eichen for good this time.” It suggested, and Stiles couldn’t hide his flinch at the idea. A wicked smile gleamed in the mirror, and the shadow leaned forward as far as the manacles on his wrists would let him. “You think you’re crazy, don’t you, Stiles?”

     Stiles found himself leaning away from the reflection, pressing his shoulder into the desk behind him. His heart raced as he stared into those manic eyes, but he didn’t deny it. The shadow wasn’t just in the mirror but in his head, and Stiles’ lies wouldn’t fool either of them.

     The shadow tutted, leaning back and looking down at their- its wrists. “I suppose they’ll believe it too when they see you like this, hm?” The questioning hum sent chills down Stiles’ spine.

     “They won’t. They’ll believe me when I tell them about you.” Stiles said, his throat feeling too dry. He reached for the water bottle beside him, willing his heart to stop beating so fast as he took a drink. He was in control. The shadow couldn’t do anything like this. He set the water bottle back down and lifted his head to meet the reflection’s eyes. “I’ve trapped you. You can’t do anything while I’m tied up like this. You have no control.”

     “Don’t I?” The shadow asked, and a spark of mischief in its eyes had Stiles’ heart rate ratcheting back up. Its head tilted toward the window, and Stiles’ head whipped to the right when he heard the soft sound of something dragging across the carpet.

     Panic wrapped its hand around Stiles’ throat, and his eyes widened as he watched the key slide into the first stripe of light on the floor. Speechless, he watched as the blind’s shadow bent and enveloped the key, pushing it forward, each strip of darkness following suit as the key was slowly nudged across the room.

     “You forget I’m much more than a mere reflection, Stiles.” The Nogitsune said with a grin as the reflection grabbed the key once it got close enough.

     “No. No, stop!” Stiles finally managed to find his voice, letting go of the breath he’d been holding. His chest heaved with panic as his facade of control crumbled around him. The key was inserted into the manacles, and Stiles screamed in time with their click before everything went dark.

     When Stiles woke in the morning, he was tucked into his bed, and only the evidence of the night before was the chafing around his wrists.

[tommyssupercoolblog]

Me: ugh god why am I getting so much worse?? I'm BACKSLIDING, I had been growing less sensitive to my triggers over time BUT NOW they're getting worse and worse and I keep having flashbacks and snapping at people!!! This is awful this makes no sense it is NOT POGGERS and my sensory issues are worse too!! WHY IS THIS HAPPENING TO MEEE

Our body, which has been steadily falling apart over the last few months (yes, months, plural) with even surgeries resulting in zero diagnosis, and symptoms worsening day by day: gee man that's so odd. Yeah crazy how that happens.

[illbringthechaosmagic]

"Are you in there?"

@artificialperscn

Wanda jumped at the sound of the voice on the other side of the door, her arms tightening their hold on her legs. She had been in the bathroom for a good 30 minutes or so, her mind racing as flashbacks came one right after the other. The sound of the bomb hitting her home, the bright flash and then darkness, the feeling of being trapped, watching the red light flicker on the unexploded bomb that had landed in their now destroyed living room. Max's voice had broken through only slightly, meaning she could hear him while trapped in the nightmare. Letting out a whimper, she then responded.

"It's going to go off... I can't move..."

[moonglowmuses]

"Nothing is going to happen to you. Nothing ever does." ( gi-hun & anyone )

"i..." gi-hun blinked, realizing that he was in the midst of another flashback. they tended to come on like this: unpredictable and violent and forceful. these symptoms came when he was alone, with others, it did not matter, and things did not discriminate. "... bad things happen to me. they always do. you should keep your distance if you intend to stay safe." gi-hun did not know what to do right now. he felt trapped, even though he was safe in terms of his physical context. he wanted to get out of here. he wanted to be comforted or even alone.

@xtinyslip

[hazbinned]

It was working. Val squeezed his eyes shut harder still, pushing on with the messy snogging whilst Angel's hands wandered round back and untucked his shirt from his belt. He felt pink fingers slide beneath wings and fabric, and he leaned forward, his multiple hands allowing him to continue holding Angel while also making a move on the star's chest fur.

And then, out of nowhere and slippery as a mink, Angel Dust was free and flipping him over. Valentino, whose pink eyes had blown open wide, resisted the move for a grand total of three seconds, and then relented. He flopped down, lurid thoughts about what Angel must be thinking igniting his imagination.

The spider could have been a deader man for this, and yet their own incident with the gun— the one that Angel was trying so hard not to relive— was what spared him from Val's wrath.

"Sure. Impress me," Val spat as the last button popped open.

As he waited for Angel to get things sorted, he turned his head away and rested his hand against his mouth, idly tracing his finger across his own lip. His eyebrows were furrowed, posture reeking of boredom and impatience. His skin itched as he tried to quell the anger from before.

The anger he'd caused himself, in a strange, somehow roundabout way.

The air was cold against his now-exposed chest and stomach, and every breath of Angel's cut in like hot steam. Hurry up, Val thought, but craned his neck back around when he felt Angel begin to unzip his pants.

Though the infamous scarlet drool had already begun to dribble out of Val's mouth, the pimp suddenly shot out with one of his lower hands and grabbed the spider by the wrist.

"I don't..." he blurted. A lingering silence ensued, and he swallowed hard. "Hold on. I actually don't know what I want."

It was painful to admit. He wasn't even looking at him; his eyes were fixed, blurry and out of focus, on where Angel's legs met his hips. He could feel desire starting to pulse through his body (really, it wasn't that hard at all for Val to get aroused), but it was all physical. Mentally, he felt like he was at some far-off place, where he could influence things but couldn't change them.

Angel was either crazy or some kind of idiot if he thought that Val's vie for control was just a ticket to correct and redirect him. More importantly, though, Angel was being fake. Valentino could tell the arachnid's genuine interest from the saucy persona used to appease, and his behavior right now fell firmly into the latter category. Even without the slight spit-induced intoxication, Angel wasn't the same man he'd been tussling with on the floor a few minutes ago.

This wasn't supposed to bother Val.

The moth slipped his fingers from Angel's wrist to lock their hands together, giving the slightest of squirms from where he was pinned. His body was begging for something to happen.

Emotionally, he was as dry as sand.

"I don't think I want to fuck right now," Valentino said.

It felt weird to be saying it; even weirder to be saying it to Angel while rose-colored trails of lust streaked down his chin. He should've just gone with it. Surely, he'd have come around eventually.

But the nail was already in the coffin.

"Do you?"

Angel was tipsy off pheromone, the Overlord noted with a frown. Of course he would want it, to some extent— but maybe Angel was like Val, and his body and brain wanted different things.

The moth glanced at him again, looking more put-off and frustrated and confused than angry. His thumb rubbed a circle into the coarse fur of Angel's hand, his breathing heavy and his heart thrumming.

"Maybe you could just lay on top of me, and we'll watch the movie. I'm sorry."

The apology came without specifications.

The look in Val's eyes was unmistakable. Angel had broken the illusion, the beautiful illusion that now, somehow, Val would be the man he had always dreamed that he would be.

Now, Valentino looked like a feral animal poised to attack, to bite and scratch and snarl. Angel knew this Val. The hand that was curled around the moth's fingers clenched, as if that could somehow give him control over the impending attack. An attack that would not hurt half as much as the pain of losing the Val of moments before. He squeezed his eyes shut.

With this Val, there was nothing he could do.

That was when the moth lurched towards his prey, capturing him in a rabid, frenzied kiss.

It took the spider a short and stunned moment to react. In that split second, the kiss hit him like a fist, and Angel froze just the same as if it had been. His eyes snapped open, hyperaware of everything he could see as Val shifted to lean over him and he shrank down into the couch.

Any other time, the suddenness of the pimp's advances would be far less startling. It was Val, after all - the guy lived and breathed sex, despite being no longer living nor breathing. It was not unlike Valentino to spontaneously pull Angel onto his lap or push him up against a wall, and whether this was a fun, flirtatious encounter between two kinky individuals or something coercive and sadistic could change at the drop of a hat.

There had to be a line in the sand drawn somewhere, signifying the end of something playfully frightening and the beginning of actual torture, but Angel had never once seen it when it came to Valentino. No, the moth blew in like a gust of wind, like the very beat of the butterfly's wings that lead to total, inevitable destruction. Where perhaps once had been a line in the sand was a raging storm, spitting dust in Angel's eyes and pulling him this way and that until he had forgotten that the line was even supposed to exist.

When all you have ever known are high tides and choppy waters, you grow indifferent to the myths of a calm, blue sea.

To begin with, Angel did what he always did: he submitted. There was no thought behind this, no decision he had made that would mark this action as some kind of choice. He was caught in the storm, and there was nothing he could do to escape it. Four hands crawled over Val, the lower two of which snuck below his shirt and climbed up the bare skin of his back - however, he wasn't thinking about Valentino whatsoever. No, he was focused on himself: his body language, his touch, his kiss. He needed to be soft, pliable, receptive. If he was enticing enough, would Val forget about whatever it was that Angel had done to piss him off? If he was perfect, would he be forgiven?

You see, Angel had learned that sex was a tool that, when used correctly, could yield almost any result his heart desired. Lust was eye-rollingly easy to spark in most sinners, and he had the body and know-how to use this to his advantage.

But, therin lay his problem: it was clear that whatever had spurred Val to kiss him was not lust - at least not the pure, concentrated kind.

This was animosity.

And that left Angel in a very, very precarious situation.

His heart seized in his chest. He couldn't just pretend to be an active participant in Val's fantasy, not like this. He couldn't charm his way out of being on the receiving end of Valentino's sadism, and he couldn't just let himself be used. Not now. He couldn't breathe. Not here, on this couch with the pimp looming over him like an impending threat. Not after...

GetOFFme, Val, PLEASE...

Just as instinctively as he had resigned himself to submission, the porn star was jump-started to seek a different method for survival. Quick as lightning and breaking their kiss without warning, he slipped out from under Val and attempted to switch their positions, with the moth on his back and Angel straddling his hips.

He plastered on his most exaggerated, seductive smile and fluttery bedroom eyes, his hands now toying with the buttons of Val's shirt as he sat upright. Immediately, he was relieved by how much more control this position offered - although the sweet, candy-like taste in his mouth and that familiar light-headed giddiness somewhat negated this small grasp for power.

"How about I drive, Papi?" he cooed, sultry and slick as he slowly popped open each button, his hand stopping over the waistband of Val's pants. "I'll give ya the ride of ya life."

[sporeclan]

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What he knows.

[capsicle107]

you take the man out of the city, not the city out the man

[frownyalfred]

Actually Oliver Queen (an Arrow-adjacent version at least) and Bruce Wayne bonding over their past experiences with torture and imprisonment (the stories they could tell make even Arthur look wary) while the rest of the JL Founders just look horrified in the background should be a new fic trope.

Let’s leave FMK games behind, and replace it with variations of: “Remember that fingernail thing?” / “Yeah, with the lime juice.” / “I did that thing twice before I realized there’s a trick to it.” / “No shit, there’s a trick?” / “Yeah, when they first insert the pliers under the nail, you tense up your thighs and—-”

[sara-the-wizard]

I Care. Chapter 6 (part 1/2) (Rottmnt comic)

Donnie and Raph assemble the wheelchair back together for Leo. And honestly, after being stuck in bed for a week, Leo is super excited to get away from the med bay! On the other hand, Donnie doesn't think he deserves any gratitude for finding the wheelchair pieces. It was his fault Leo was hurt in the first place! Donnie wanted to set things right and fix Leo. Truthfully, it looks like everything would be okay! But... Leo's not out of danger yet.

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