#non sleep deprived mess

[softplumbs]

Y'all my brain is stressed but like, subconsciously. Like it's not telling me things to stress me out but it's giving...insomnia. 😮‍💨

I made brownies and now waiting for my bf to wake up so I can go spin dolls on my PC :'(

Do u bake? Lemme know your fav baked yums!! (or don't u probably sleeping)

I'M A COOKIE MASTER (and monster).

[floorpancakes]

what do you mean there's overlap between trans day of visibility and watanukis birthday its almost as if there is no such thing as coincidence

[cashmeremars]

𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐢𝐝𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 || 𝐦.𝐥

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: mark lee x non-idol!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you miss Mark, but he’s busy with work and you’re busy with school, so your relationship lives through a computer screen.

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fluff, established relationship, semi-secret relationship, mark sings you to sleep :(

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.3k

𝐚/𝐧: soft boyfriend mark is the only mark that matters. i’ve had this in my drafts since 2018...

11:48 pm

12 more minutes until you’d get to see him again. 

You sighed as rays of blue light danced on your skin. You hadn’t heard from Mark in 2 weeks. His schedule had gotten so hectic preparing for the Dream comeback and the 127 tour, he hardly had time to think, let alone call you. Mark’s absence was difficult, but it was understandable. He was doing what he loved, even if it meant being sleep-deprived, overworked, and under-appreciated. You hated how the idol life took its toll on him, but he constantly reassured you that he was fine. 

With bags under his eyes, ever-so-slightly slumped shoulders, and a jitter in his fingers, he told you he was fine. So you told him you believed him, even though it split your heart in two to watch him suffer. You never wanted to pry because it might stress him out to really talk about his feelings, so the time you spent together was treated like an escape from reality; An escape from fame for Mark, and an escape from academia for you. 

Mark would tell you about a funny thing that Haechan did in the dorms, or read you a poem he had written while in the car heading to dance practice. Your favourite was when he would bring out his guitar and pluck haphazard melodies as you watched him through the screen. Then Mark would ask you about your day, and you’d tell him about the quaint little cafe you stumbled into after an exam, or the squirrels that you fed at the bus stop on your way to school. 

The few times that Mark would actually tell you about his NCT activities, he’d rave about how amazing tour practice has been, and how he wanted you in the crowd with him. On those days, you’d have to remind Mark that you couldn’t be anywhere near his professional activities because the chances of one of you slipping up and giving nosy fans or intruding journalists a reason to speculate Mark’s romantic life were too high. 

Then you’d fall into a suffocating silence until one of you changed the subject. 

11:58 pm

2 more minutes until you’d get to see him again.

Your heart melted into the floor as you tussled with the wires of your earphones. Should’ve just bought those Airpods, you thought to yourself. You opened up your laptop, hands shaking as you navigated toward the Facetime app. A green dot appeared next to your laptop camera, and you stared into your reflection. You analyzed the background presented on the screen with a sigh. Your room was a mess. Worse than it usually was. You pushed yourself out of your desk chair, practically sprinting around your bedroom trying to make it seem presentable. Mark had seen your bedroom in every manifestation, from organized to sloppy, but it had never been this bad. 

You tossed the dirty clothes laying on your bed into a hamper before adjusting your duvet. Your textbook sat open on your pillow, reminding you that you’d have to finish whatever chapter you were on once you were done indulging in fantasyland with Mark. You threw your bookmark into the bind of the textbook before slamming it closed. Reality could wait until tomorrow morning. The stuffed panda Mark gave you leaned on your headboard, greeting you with its permanent smile. Mark won the stuffed animal for you at a carnival in Chicago when he was on tour. He told you that the moment he saw it, he knew he had to win it for you. 45 minutes and $60 later, the panda was looped under Mark’s arm for the entirety of the tour until he was finally able to bring it back home to you. 

12:00 am

Your ears perked at the unmistakable melody ringing from your laptop. 

[Mark <3 is calling]

Your feet carried you to your computer in what felt like half a second. You plopped down onto your chair, fixing your hair before putting in your earphones and navigating toward the answer button.

“Yeobooooo,” Mark’s voice flooded your ears, allowing a riptide to form in your heart.

“Maaaarrrk,” you reply as the corners of your mouth began to upturn. You felt your cheeks warm up at the sight of Mark. He was dressed in an oversized grey hoodie, with flat hair, and his round glasses. You loved when he wore his glasses. You’d always teased him, calling it harry potter cosplay, but he was undeniably adorable. 

“Oh, God, you don’t even know how much I’ve missed you. I’ve been talking about you so much that Johnny actually banned me from talking about you,” Mark chuckled, “$2 fine every time I mention your name,” Mark explained. You felt your heart flutter knowing that Mark missed you as much as you missed him.

“Tell me about it. My friends groan whenever I bring you up when we’re hanging out on campus. I’ve been insufferable without you,” you sigh.

“Glad to know we’re in the same boat.” Mark’s hearty laugh warms your ears. “How’s school?” he continues. 

“It’s fine. Just the usual; tests, quizzes, labs, annoying professors, blah, blah. How’s idol life?” You ask.

“Same old. Dance practice, recordings, youtube content, variety shows, same as it always is,” Mark’s reply matches yours, embodying the mutual frustration with the repetitive monotony of your lives that you both feel. 

“I get it. It’s nice seeing you for a change, even if I’m technically not actually seeing you. I like hearing your voice.” You fiddle with your earphone wires.

“Yeah, I wish I could reach through the screen and just be there with you. I’ve really missed seeing you in person. Hearing your laugh, the way your nose crinkles, how warm your hugs always are,” Mark trails. You couldn’t help but smile at his words. You missed him more than you’d ever missed anyone. 

“Yeah, it sucks a lot. You know, at one point I started listening to those ASMR phone call things on youtube that your fans make of you. They’re actually quite well done,” You confess, opting to stare at your laptop keys instead of Mark.

“ASMR phone calls? I didn’t even know those existed,” he replied. He sounded more amused than weirded out. Mark was never judgemental, especially when it came to you. 

“Oh, well you do now I guess.” 

“I guess I need to record one of our phone calls so I have something to listen to as well,” Mark joked.

“I’ve sent you like 200 voice recordings in the past, though,” you laugh. Whenever something happened at school and you didn’t feel like typing, you would send Mark voice recordings of you detailing the events that had occurred. Mark always preferred those as he felt as though he were having a real-life conversation with you. 

“Oh yeah. I hadn’t even thought about that. I’ve just been suffering without your voice for no reason.” Mark pushed up his glasses. “Hey, is that the panda I got you?” He says as he leans further into his laptop camera to peek more into your bedroom. 

“Of course. I’ve kept it on my bed since you gave it to me. It still sort of smells like you,” You say as you get up from your chair and walk toward the panda.

“Probably because it was in my suitcase for like 2 months before I could give it to you,” Mark laughs. You give the panda a squeeze before walking back to your chair, placing the panda on your lap.

“I like it. It feels like you’re here even when you’re across the world,” You gaze at the panda once more. Noting how its right ear has started to flop down with time. 

“When do I get to see you?” Mark asks, adjusting the hood of his sweater.

“I’ve got three more weeks until the semester ends,” You say as you glance quickly at the calendar hung above your desk. 

“I’ve got three more weeks until the tour starts,” He sighs.

“So that gives us… 2 days?” You squint.

“2 days,” Mark confirmed.

“Is that enough time?” Your fingers start to tinker with the leg of the stuffed panda.

“If you’re willing to be a night owl, then it should be perfect,” He replied, running his hand through his dark hair. 

You and Mark hardly ever hung out during the day because of the risk of fans or sasaengs spotting you in public. So you’d usually hang out through the middle of the night, hanging out in parks, taking walks through your neighbourhood, or sneaking him into your house so you could watch movies together. It wasn’t ideal, but just being with him was enough. 

“I think it’ll work,” you smile. 

“Oh! Do you wanna hear something I’ve been working on?” Mark perks up, looking around his desk for a moment before locking eyes with something off-screen. 

“Of course.” You straighten your posture in your seat, anticipating whatever Mark has stored for you. Mark reaches over until his body is out of frame. He returns with his acoustic guitar in hand. 

“Okay, it’s a work in progress, and I don’t really have any lyrics for it, but I thought the melody was cool.” Mark begins strumming the guitar, closing his eyes as he allowed the melody to float from his fingers. 

It was beautiful. The melody was soft and sweet, a contrast to most of 127’s songs. He began humming along to the guitar, possibly singing what he imagined the lyrics should sound like. The song was pretty, even through the slightly muffled audio from your earphones. You leaned your head into your hands, watching him get lost in his music. It was amazing to watch him. You could only hope to find something that made you feel half as passionate as Mark was with music. His sleepless nights were worth everything in the world if it meant he got to create music. 

“How was that?” He asks, opening his eyes to gauge your reaction. 

“It was perfect, Mark.”

“Really?” He raised an eyebrow at you. He was always so hypercritical of his own work. 

“Yeah, I really loved it.” you nod, “Do you know what you want the song to be about?” You continued. 

“Yeah. I think I want to make it a love song about a boy who meets a radiant girl that he can’t stop thinking about,” Mark looks at you expectantly, holding back his signature ping-pong giggle. 

“Would it be a stretch to assume that the song is about me?” you raise your eyebrows at him. 

“Not a stretch at all. The song is absolutely about you,” Mark’s smile seems to warm the atmosphere of your room. 

“So, would you release it with the group?” you glance at the mini NCT poster decorating your wall. 

“I think I would want it to be a solo song.” He tilts his head, quirking his eyebrows. 

“A solo?” your voice perks.

“Yeah, I mean if that ever happens again. I feel like it would be refreshing compared to the concept that I currently have going on.” Mark motions with his hands.

“I agree. The duality of man,” you joke. 

“And it’ll be like our secret special song or something. Only we would know that it’s about us,” He continues. 

“Well, us and the rest of your bandmates would know,” you say. 

“Right,” He smooths out the sleeve of his hoodie. 

“I really like watching you perform, Mark.” you lean closer to your camera, watching the way Mark becomes bashful under your gaze. 

“Thank you,” he whispers. His eyes remain locked on his keyboard as he scratched his forehead. He always got awkward when you complimented him. 

“I’m really proud of you, Mark. Even if the company takes you for granted, I see the effort you put into everything, and all I can say is that I think you’re phenomenal. You’re so talented, Mark. Everything that you do leaves me in awe,” You continue. 

Mark pauses for a moment, allowing your words to sink in, “I love you,” he replies. 

“I love you too, Mark.” You smile. 

“Do you wanna hear something else?” Mark asks, reaching for his guitar once again. You nod. You bring your knees to your chest, allowing your head to rest on them as you wait for him to start playing his next piece. You spent the next hour joking around, trying to come up with the most absurd lyrics as Mark strummed his guitar.

3:02 am

Your snores peppered Mark’s ears as he watched you through the computer screen. You’d fallen asleep accidentally about 30 minutes ago, but he didn’t have the heart to end the Facetime call because it meant he wouldn’t be able to see you again for a while. Mark placed his guitar on the floor before reaching for his phone. Your upper body was still in the frame as your head was leaning onto the desk. He could see the soft rise and fall of your shoulders through the pixelated screen. Mark always thought you were adorable when you slept. Your cheeks always puffed up and your mouth would twitch occasionally. Mark opened his camera app, laughing to himself as he zoomed in on your sleeping face. He snapped 3 photos before he started looking through them. Mark laughed again as he clicked on his favourite photo, making it your new contact photo. He sent the same photo as a text message to you, as a fun surprise for when you wake up. He closed his phone, opting to look at you once more. She looks peaceful, he thought to himself. The stress of school-work or exams didn’t matter to you when you were in slumber, and it made Mark’s heart swell. All he wanted was for you to be happy. Mark takes off his glasses, placing them down as he lays his head on his desk, mimicking your position.

“Good night,” he sighs, joining you in sleep.

masterlist

fic recs

[mx-pastelwriting]

Fluffy Trim

Viktor x GN! Reader

Summary: Trimming Viktor's fluffy hair.

Warnings: Established Relationship, Soft&Sassy Viktor, Non Sleep Deprived Viktor, Fluff, Reader Cutting hair

Combing through the dense yet light-feeling hair that curled so cutely, Hearing a hum of enjoyment from Viktor meeting his breathtaking eyes looking up to you from his notes he had brought home.

"Why'd you stop?" He asks in a heavy accent, with a face turned in innocent confusion. Bringing a soft smile to your lips as you start again bringing things back to how they were. Pulling softly a thick strain of his dark hair, seeing its long length. "Your hair is getting long," you say, though only getting a light hum as a response.

"I can trim it," you say, breaking his focus on his notes with a more confused look. "Do you not like it long?" He asks, reaching up to his hair, but you huff a laugh. "No, I just think it needs a trim," you say, still combing through his hair.

"Hm, it is a little long," he agrees, twirling the strain. "Come on before it gets late." Getting up from the bed making your way to the shared bathroom. Hearing no more questions, you take out the scissors and comb with a small towel, placing it near the sink.

Turning to Viktor, who was leaning against the door frame watching your actions, "Come here," you say, turning on the water. "What do I do?" He asks laughingly now in front of you, "Lean down under the water so I can wet your hair." You reply, guiding him down and under, then letting the water fill your cupped hand and working in the water quickly to not stress his back.

Finishing, you move quickly again to grab a high-seated chair to save his legs from further strain, taking the seat then putting his cane against the side wall of the bathroom. The small towel around his neck, you move it up and dry his hair a little. Taking the towel away, the sight of his messed hair made you laugh in turn, a smile grew on his face.

Grabbing a comb, then taming the lion mane, parting in the middle to start trimming the bottom up. Looking in the mirror, seeing Viktor focused on your technique of trimming, smiling as you go back to work, fluffing his hair seeing as it blends nicely.

Finishing up your work, looking in the mirror, seeing his shorter hair making you pleased with yourself, watching as he runs his fingers through his hair, pleased as well.

Leaning in, resting your hands on the open parts of the seat, resting your chin lightly on his shoulder, "What do you think?" smiling to your question as he plays with his hair, "Better." Kissing his cheeks, making them glow pink, you move away, starting your cleanup. "Let's get you a shower; all this hair must be itchy," you say, touching his neck covered in freshly cut hair.

"Yes, of course," he says, turning to you while closing the door with his foot. "Only if you join me," he says with his heavy accent again, making you melt.

Hello, I hope you enjoyed if there is and grammar mistakes or misspellings sorry about that feel free to let me know in the comments, have a great day/afternoon/night!

[harbingersglory]

miko is SO REAL for that, two switches fighting over who gets to dom is the best dynamic. if you have time/want to i'd be curious to hear any sub headcanons you have for lisa, ei, ningguang and/or kafka!

this is so incredibly self indulgent because i see ningguang, ei and kafka in the same sentence and explode. everyone pretend i didnt accidentally pick a fav here um

ningguang i already see as a pillow princess more than anything she fits this so well. absolutely adores going slow + worship. treat this woman like royalty and lord you will not regret it. she goes all out to make the night as perfect as possible. will not let you have a hand in any of it sorry!! this is her turf. perfect atmosphere suited to your tastes (tons of candles, if you like that, or just going by moonlight is also her style). incense, taking a few minutes beforehand just to really get settled in the mood (usually by cuddling, but shes not against just taking a moment for some tea or even a game of chess).

you'll also probably need all that extra time to sort through whatever shes bought this time. when i said she goes the whole nine yards i mean it. she has money and she will use it. very expensive lingerie for herself (and you, if thats your thing.) and literally anything you could ever want. it heavily depends on what you both want out of the night but she spares no mora making it the best she can.

the non-sexual intimacy before hand (and especially after) is important to her she takes it very seriously (for the both of you). you'll probably get dragged into taking a long bath afterwards before actually going to bed. hope you arent too tired! because its gonna be a while before you actually sleep.

because this woman has stamina. technically. she's just really pent up and theres no better way to get that stress out then soft sex with her partner. shes not picky about positions really but she has a soft spot for laying on her stomach with a pillow to prop up her hips (really accentuates the pillow princess part, huh /j). if you start massaging her she's gonna wake up the entirety of liyue. she's normally quiet but lord knows she needs it and she cant keep quiet for the life of her.

genuinely just very soft and gentle. she just needs some good pampering after a long day to unwind (preferably with a glass of wine, but thats for later).

ei..is very awkward about it. she probably gets embarrassed if you bring it up but shes not. opposed per se. she's just used to domming that she has no idea what to do. genuinely a mess the first time around but she gets the hang of it quick (shes a quick learner :])

also you just really get to see a side of her you usually never do! she's usually big on topping and shes pretty calm and composed about it (usually). not cold, just..she doesn't outwardly express things often. except when shes subbing. its like a switch flipped

just dont tease her about how visibly flustered and awkward she is about it. because she is. horribly so. shes still pretty quiet but thats just ei, to be fair. its like a cute, nervous puppy. call her a good girl though and she might short circuit so badly the shogun comes out

though i also see ei as someone who prefers giving even when subbing. a dangerous combo considering her body is a puppet and, yknow, cant get tired. you will have to pry this woman off you shes lowkey insatiable when it comes to pleasing you. 100% less of a brat, though. you give her an order shes following through with it before you can blink. efficient!

kafka is similar to miko, imo. maybe yelan too?? she gives off big brat vibes when she subs. she wont use suggestion in bed unless your 100% cool with it and even then its usually when she doms but when she subs? shes a menace. bit of a masochist, to be honest. she'll push your buttons until you crack and decide to punish her but woops, thats just what she wants so she wins anyway!

she cant feel fear but she certainly enjoys a good thrill. specifically sensory deprivation. cover her eyes with a blindfold and keep her guessing. its probably her favorite part, the closest she can get to fear. especially if you add a bit of pain into it.

choking, spanking, bit of blood..this woman is smiling through it all like she's the happiest woman in the world. especially if it makes you frustrated. shes like it desperate and rough.

if thats not your speed, though, she can get that thrill in other ways. semi public sex is her jam so sandwich her against a wall in some random supply closet and make her scream. shes not quiet even in the comfort of whatever room shes booked this time and you'll have to physically shut her up if you dont want to get caught. shes still a brat at heart, though. put your fingers in her mouth and she'll bite. your gonna need the patience of a saint to dom kafka.

[campoverlook-if]

Progress Update #4// 4/3/24

Hey everyone, just wanted to update you all on the story.

I've started a new process for the past few days where I write for two hours and then take fifteen-thirty minute breaks in between. I'm still blanking on what to write for a section sometimes, but I'm really trying not to have grayed out choices again. That was NOT fun.

Still, the writing process shouldn't be forced, but sometimes you just really need to kick your own ass and grab that text file by the ears. Plus, this is the most productive I've felt since getting my wisdom teeth removed.

In celebration of this new bout of inspiration, here's a sneak peek of an upcoming scene you may encounter in the update.

Alright, that's it. This girl can't just bully you away because she doesn't like you. You hadn't even done anything when she first started acting nasty towards you. Yes, you may have walked away in the middle of a conversation, but she had been so…aggressive. You weren't just going to stand there and take it, and you definitely weren't going to start now. So, you take a step closer to Claire, giving her a leveled glare of your own. "Last time I checked, this table doesn't belong to you." Tension quickly fills the air around the two of you. Claire doesn't respond to your retort, but she doesn't need to. Her body language gives you all the information you need to know.

Ooooh boi, what the hell did you do to make Claire this mad at you. And on the first day? Tragic.

Along with that we'll be getting into a few things before finally ending episode 1:

Reworked the gender system of the counselors. Now you can choose from the beginning how you want them to be.

Added the choice to be non-binary (a new batch of campers, hooyay!). Also need to add onto scenes with Asher, Claire, and Lucas.

Meeting the final two counselors (Ruby and Silas).

An added scene with E for returning MCs during your walk to the mess hall.

Going through orientation, including a fun scavenger hunt (Uncle Robert said it would be fun, don't believe him).

A small scene with your new roommates in your cabins.

I'm so excited just thinking about it, and I'm the one writing the dang story.

If you hadn't seen it yet, I answered an ask a little bit ago about doing visuals for the blog. I'm not the best at visual media (that's more my mother's thing) but I can use a character maker like a mf if I have too.

It was kinda nice, a little limiting, but it was surprisingly helpful for me to have it. I've thought about how these characters look for so long it's strange to suddenly see them brought to life in any type of way except text. The character bios have been updated with these pictures now.

(UPDATE: LITERALLY MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT DECISION: SLEEP DEPRIVED AF BEHAVIOR)

So, I wrote this update yeaterday and was planning for it to just post through queue like I normally do, but the situation has changed. The demo will be updated again, however the stopping point is literally the same. The only major changes are the gender system, adding being non-binary, and having everything on one file (pray for me). The stopping point is still the same.

All in all the word count is now at this point: 57k (W/O Code), 14K (average). Not a huge jump average wise, but I'm happy anyway.

Link to demo here.

(END OF EMERGENCY UPDATE)

That's all I wanted to talk about for now, if you run into any bugs just let me know and I'll fix it lickity split.

See you all on the next update!

P.S. - I love it when new people follow and only like the posts of certain counselors. I know who you're into now ;).

[marvelmusing]

i know im asking for a lot but please expand on that Ghost!Billy drabble 🧎🏻‍♀️🙏🏻

my brain went skejfjdmwmbxjfkendbjxidn *aol dialup noises* fjdjsknfjxuxusuaklakdicejbd

Ghost!Billy Russo Headcanons

A/N: these are the only thoughts I have at the moment about him - there are probably more lurking around in my head

[18+ content below - hint of dark!ghost!Billy]

Imagine when you first move in, you don’t give the ghost your landlord warned you about much thought. Most ghosts were harmless anyway.

You don’t realise that it’s Billy touching your body while you sleep, making you wake up needy enough to pull out your vibrator, only for him to drain the power from the batteries just as you’re about to reach your climax.

When he finally reveals himself to you, I’m thinking about him holding you up against his chest as he’s going to town on you. Hand tight around your throat, making you watch your reflection in the mirror.

He doesn’t show up in the mirror so you’re just staring at yourself on your knees, back arched into thin air with your head leaning against a shoulder that you can’t see in the mirror.

All the while he’s teasing you about what a mess you are, how you’re going to watch yourself climax around nothing when you can feel how deep he is inside you.

He steals your underwear a lot. Whenever you have a day off, you can guarantee Billy has stolen all of your panties so that you have to go without for the day.

Sometimes he takes advantage of that, sometimes he just hovers around with a smug smile on his face - even when you can’t see him you can tell when he’s smirking.

He loves having his hands on you. This is both sexual and non-sexual. Like yes he does grab your ass or give it a little spank all the time whilst remaining invisible just to tease and fluster you.

And yeah if you’re sitting down reading or doing something on your phone, sometimes you feel some phantom fingers cupping your chest and stroking over your nipples.

But then there’s times where he just massages your legs when you’ve had a long day, or pressing his thumbs into the tense muscles at the base of your neck.

Occasionally he pokes you because he wants attention but doesn’t have the energy to manifest into a physical form.

He’s possessive too.

If you bring people to the apartment he will not be impressed. This is his space, you’re only allowed to stay because he likes you (not that he’d admit that).

Imagine telling your friend that if some spooky stuff happens it’s just Billy being petty. So, when he appears as a shadowy figure in the corner of the bathroom as your friend’s washing her hands, she just goes - oh hi Billy - dries her hands and rejoins you in the living room.

He ignores you for two days after that, moving around your furniture slightly so that you bump into it and placing things you need on high shelves.

Which backfires when you climb on a wobbly chair to reach something and nearly fall. He materialises just in time to steady you against his chest. This gives you both the opportunity to talk about things.

Ghost Billy’s kinks that he would love to act out with you (if you’re up for any of them): somnophilia, fearplay, cnc, sensory deprivation (he can take away your sight for a bit), lots of preying on you when you’re in the shower or bath, and he definitely enjoys examining your body - both with and without your knowledge.

-

-

[generalofchaosandsimpery]

About the Replaced!MC Au...

A replaced MC AU where the usual stuff happens, Diavolo invites a new human exchange student, the brothers forget about you little by little, yadi yadi yada-

BUT THIS TIME! Instead of MC being either a depressed, self-harming selfless human who dies at the end, or being a badass, non-caring, sassy human who hangs out with the side characters...this MC is fuming. In my case, my sweet and cute MC that doesn't seem like she would cause harm...is a half-succubus, some-percent angel, human with a magical history, and to add on Solomon's training? Boom, one of the most powerful beings in the three worlds. Not to mention how she is secretly malicious and petty? How good she hides all of her disgusting sides? You really think she is going to let this go?

You think she is going to roll over and die, so this new student can take over all the handwork she put into that damn broken family?

HA.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!

OF COURSE NOT!!! What bad boys, pushing their master to the side for some other human… Is her soul not the purest? Is she not the most powerful? Did she not help them?

Oh, what foolish demons~! BAD BOYS!!! SIT!!!!!!!!!!!

What is your MC waiting for? Is their 'moral compass' stopping them? There is nothing wrong with putting it to the side, after all, you are punishing bad behaviour of your demons! You still have their pacts!~ Don't be a fool, make them sit through the torture of a recording of all your happy moments, followed by all the naughty things they said to you~! Isolate them like they did to you! It can't be so bad if they did it to you, treat others how you want to be treated! That's how the saying goes, right? Go crazy! Insult them? Everything they told you, give it to them back tenfold! Guilt? Remind them of every wrong they did: hurt you! Terrified you! TRIED TO KILL YOU AND SUCCEED!!! Deprive them of their sins! Or make them worse! No food? No sleep? No luxuries? No sex? Go for it! Oh, did you know that MC is quite popular in Devildom? Well...why not record having 'special' time with your fans? And show it to your dear pets of how good behaviour looks like~ Make sure to record them too, so they always heave a reminder for whenever they misbehave~ Leave them as broken, blubbering messes, they will be good? They won't leave you? Forgive them please? Love them again please! LoveMeLoveMeLoveMeLoveMeLoveMeLoveMeLoveMeLoveMeLoveMeLoveMeLoveMeLoveMe-

But of course, if you still want them with their wonderful personalities and not as broken dolls, don't break them completely! Just enough to know not to mess with you!~

Diavolo will forgive you, of course he would! Unlike those traitors, he actually wouldn't want anyone but you! And you are doing the justified thing of punishing them since they disobeyed their master! He will even provide his torture chambers! Barbatos doesn't mind serving you tea and pastries as you go on with your countless sessions, he also quite loves you, of course~ And the new student? Oh them, well depending on how they behaved, if they didn't mean any harm and had no idea, they can go back home with a warning, but if this was their plan the entire time? To embarrass you? To absolutely humiliate you and take your precious, precious, family? Oh what fun you can have with them! You can torture them as well! In another room! Make it as painful as possible! Make them wish they never tried to mess with you! MAKE THEM WISH THEY WERE DEAD! And now? You can either kill them, or put a curse on them to make their torture to last for entirety!

Or...Or better yet~

Put them in a room, and release your beloved pets on them, the student could beg them to help their poor little human, to kill you because clearly you are a psycho! But they won't hear a single thing~ Finally getting proper training, they realize they're wrong, how they should have always been on your side. And how they will gain back your praise and affection if this student was disposed of! And so, the next thing you hear throughout the night is painful screaming and the sound of shredding flesh and bones!

And the next thing they know, they are chatting in the cafeteria as usual, mocking and playing with each other like nothing was wrong, how nothing bad ever happened. The new human exchange student? Who? They know to act dumb, since that person has been wiped out of history. After the questions stop, and the lower demons leave. Mammon would look back at you with his puppy grin, eyes full of love and adoration, asking if they did good, and of course, you will look at them sweetly with a soft smile on your lips.

“Of course you did, my good boys~”

Everyone should know not to poke a lamb, they might have sharp teeth under that cute muzzle of theirs~ But of course that will never happen! We know how much they love you, they couldn't bear to live without you! So no need to think too hard about it okay~? It was just a joke~!

[natalchartnurtures]

Who Do You Become When You're Sleep Deprived?

When we are deprived of sleep, our bodies, and therefore our minds, slip into survival mode, as most of us probably already know. There are some aspects of your natal chart that light up when you are in survival mode – your Moon being the most prominent of them. So here's how the Moon signs might behave when sleep deprived. Enjoy~

The Aries Moon/Moon in the First House/Mars aspecting Moon: Okay, picture this: you're a vulnerable, sleep-deprived stress monster with an Aries Moon. Yep, you might just throw punches metaphorically (or literally, if pushed too far). This lack of shut-eye can make you restless, impulsive, and prone to epic bad decisions. I mean, come on, we've all been there, right?

The Taurus Moon/Moon in the Second House/Venus aspecting moon: Now, here's a weird one. Taurus moons pretend they're totally fine until they crash, and boy, do they crash hard! Suddenly, they transform into these adorable, moody babies craving creature comforts. Bring on the comfort food, blankets, and Netflix – it's the only way to survive the exhaustion.

The Gemini Moon/Moon in the Third House/Mercury aspecting Moon: Gemini moons on no sleep? They're like they're on coke or something. Anxious, talkative, and mentally all over the place. Decision-making? Nope, not happening. Their minds are in overdrive, making them the kings and queens of confusion. They can find it very hard to calm down and relax, leading them to not be able to sleep, which in turn encourages more sleep deprivation. It's a cycle that keeps spinning until someone shouts, "Stop the madness!"

The Cancer Moon/Moon in the Fourth House: Sleep-deprived Cancer moons go into full-on mom mode. They forget about themselves and become hyper-focused on nurturing others. But oh boy, their emotions go haywire. Their sensitivities break the scale (if there is one) and so they're prone to feeling emotions stronger than they usually do, which can cause them to appear like they are moody and what non-Cancerians call "an emotional mess," whatever that means. Rolling my eyes. Logic? Ha, it's out the window! Decisions are solely based on feelings, and they wear their hearts on their sleeves.

The Leo Moon/Moon in the Fifth House/Sun aspecting moon: Sleep-deprived Leos? They crave validation and attention like never before. For these majestic beings, frustration levels peak, and their tolerance for nonsense hits rock bottom. Reassurance becomes their lifeline. Despite the exhaustion, they power through, fueled by pride. Impressive, right?

The Virgo Moon/Moon in the Sixth House/Mercury aspecting Moon: Oh, Virgo moons, the overthinking perfectionists of the zodiac. With no sleep, they turn into anxiety-ridden hot messes, hyper-aware of every tiny detail. Relaxation? Nope, not happening. Their pursuit of perfection becomes a burden, and routines are their saving grace in this chaotic state.

The Libra Moon/Moon in the Seventh House/Venus aspecting Moon: Sleep-deprived Libra moons? Brace yourselves. They lose their cool, becoming ultra-reactive to everything around them. Yet, strangely, they lean on their social circles to survive the sleep drought. Indecision skyrockets, and emotional limbo becomes their new normal. Avoiding conflict? You betcha.

The Scorpio Moon/Moon in the 8th House/Pluto aspecting Moon: Oh boy, Scorpio moons, our intense, mysterious pals. When they're sleep-deprived, they morph into these paranoid baddies, getting stuck in a vortex of negativity and diving deep into the depression hole. Their emotions go haywire, and they become ultra-sensitive. Their emotions are heightened as well, making it harder for them to control their emotional reactions and come off as sensitive; even on a good day, they can take on a lot of intensity. Only solitude seems to soothe these dark souls.

The Sagittarius Moon/Moon in the 9th House/Jupiter aspecting Moon: Now, Sagittarius moons are a different breed. Our optimistic, risk-loving besties turn into bundles of energy when sleep-deprived. They can't stand anything restricting their freedom, especially on their off-days from slumber. Confidence? Oh, they've got it in abundance, which sometimes leads to hilarious misadventures because of their impulsivity tendencies.

The Capricorn Moon/Moon in the 10th House/Saturn aspecting Moon: Capricorn moons, our hardworking goats, handle sleep deprivation like badass bitches. Seriously, nothing, not even lack of sleep, can deter them from their goals. They keep their cool, make rational decisions, but when they hit their limit, they crave structure. Bedtime rituals, even if it's scrolling through Instagram, become their way of coping with stress.

The Aquarius Moon/Moon in the 11th House/Uranus aspecting Moon: Ah, Aquarius moons, our Uranian crackpot buddies. Sleep-deprived, they detach from emotions faster than you can blink. "Emotions? Not today," they say, reaching for their coffee. But you know what? Their creative genius shines. They come up with the wildest solutions and can get pretty erratic, surprising everyone with their unpredictable antics. Hence. Crackpots. Lmao.

The Pisces Moon/Moon in the 12th House/Neptune aspecting Moon: Lastly, our dreamy, sensitive Pisces moons. When sleep-deprived, they escape reality by daydreaming and drifting into their own world. They're empathetic to a fault, absorbing everyone's emotions until they hit a compassion overload. That's when they crawl back into their little caves and say "Fuck this, im too sleep deprived for this shitshow right now" Jake Peralta style lol. (Been there, done that :p)

NOTE: Of course, if you've got aspects to your Moon, you're gonna want to check that energy apart from your moon sign and the house its in.

Thats about it for my take how you may act when sleep deprived. Hope you enjoyed this one :]

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[meirimerens]

cleaning out this account of last night's ruckus because posting when sleep-deprived & going along with (even gentle) egging is Not productive and frankly did not do much beyond rallying people to heehee and haha and feel a sense of moral superiority which was not something i meant to & should have fostered by continuing to engage, cos that was not going to give us anything.

i do apologize firmly and fully for last night's mess and noise. i should have cut it short, should have said less, should gotten my ass to bed because I was in no state of mind to attempt cool-headed discussions, and it is my fault for not having had the discipline to sleep on it. it wasn't then, and it is not now, any kind of witch-hunt. i did not name names and i did not show anything on purpose, but i should have said even less, for one of my tags, which did not strike me as potentially too identifying for comfort when sleep-deprived, made them pretty identifiable, and i firmly reiterate my apologies for it should not have happened. people deserve to be left alone to do some reflecting and growing, and i have repeated it as such. this thing should be talked about as a wider problem and not be pinned on individuals, even if it easier. from what i had remembered, the artist/s had already been made aware of how unsavory the depictions were, and had just kept going, but this is something i should have checked for myself. I didn't, and for that I'm sorry.

i do very much stand by the fact that only drawing the one non-white guy like Wreck-it-Ralph when he canonically is profoundly average beyond being tall, while all the white characters get to have normal proportions (if comically smaller than him) is, at the very least, "sus", and worth interrogating even within the context of heavy stylization, because it's not like stylization has never been used to racist extents. this is an opinion i hold and am not particularly inclined to budge on. i do not believe it is conscious, or comes from a will to harm. but i think it's real silly and deserves reflection. this is a trope i've seen spanning fandoms, that every fandom with a white guy x nonwhite guy popular ship has to reckon with at some point, and every time you got people who think it's sus as fuck, nonwhite people who take the time and effort to explain how and why, and people, including nonwhite people themselves, who think it's not a big deal. i have both my own personal opinions on caricature (which are that you can do so while still not falling into racialized depictions) and no power nor desire to change anyone's minds. those two opinions can and do coexist, and even people who will relate to burakh on the same basis will have varying degrees of tolerance for this, and their opinions on the matter. let's just say there's room for everyone.

discussions from indigenous russian &/or central/east asian people on how the fandom treats artemy as the one nonwhite guy in one of the most popular pairings have been going on for years: i was coming across them before i even got here. but my personal experience of 4 years of seeing such depictions and reading them be criticized by people it affects and my personal exasperation towards mischaracterizations bordering on racism developed from seeing a constant stream of them, and them being identified as such, is not the experience of people who just got here, and a discussion spawned from a "woe the hounds be upon ye" imgflip meme does not particularly lend itself to 4 years, tens of posts, tens of threads and more strewn-around discussions of nuance.

I reiterate my apologies for the noise, the ruckus, and for the pointedness that had no business being here, especially considering how long stuff like that has been going on for; it was uncalled for and callous for it to fall on specific people when it is more productive to talk about it as tropes and a wider fandom problem than to point fingers. I should have had the discipline and the discernment to cut it out and go to bed. i didn't, got way in over my head, and truly and fully fumbled. i apologize for making a circus out of this. thank you for reading, and hope you're well.

[altschmerzes]

Gav I am SO sorry for the length of this ….. also I am going to send a general “how are you doing ask” because this is all Jamie stuff (very therapeutic to talk about him after the week I’ve had) so I hope that’s okay!!!

Okay. So.

Jamie in this episode? A delight. I mean, he’s always a delight but WOW, I didn’t think I could love him more. And I LOVE that he was so happy and silly and having fun and I don’t want my take to take away from that (because I have been in the state I think he was in many times before).

I don’t know if this was intentional from Phil, but I think Jamie was manic in this episode — specifically trauma induced mania. I think that Amsterdam, understandably, was a HUGE trigger for him.

In that heartbreaking scene where Jamie shares something very difficult with Roy, he says “even though my dad weren’t there, it was like he was still with us, y’know?”

Cut to:

Jamie mimicking his dad’s mannerisms from his very first scene (the play punches, the frenetic energy)

Jamie reverting to being a prick for all of two seconds (the tie your laces comment was probably something he heard from his father) to see how far he could push Roy before Roy snapped at him

Running Roy ragged across the streets of Amsterdam the entire episode lol

This sent me spiralling a little because there is SO much evidence to show that Jamie was in trauma / manic in this episode, and how those mannerisms relate to that.

Cut to:

Nonstop movement, running, round offs, bouncing up and down on the spot

Lack of attention span and impulsivity — deciding they need bikes and running off to find them using his street smarts (again, likely mimicking what he has seen his father do) and also deciding that they HAVE to find a windmill. Like absolutely determined, nothing was stopping that boy lmao

Peaking in energy and then suddenly calming down once he’s taught Roy how to ride a bike

Info-dumping and non stop talking

Being confused why Roy wouldn’t want to join in on his imagined adventure “these bikes have just made tonight AMAZING!”

Now listen. Being a person with mania, you can be manic and still be …. you. I think so many of these Jamie moments are hilarious and adorable and not all down to that, but he was DEFINITELY in trauma … getting to that now:

He’s in this crazy good mood the whole night, and then he decides to share ….. the thing ….. with Roy. I think that might be his subconscious bringing up this trauma and sort of explaining the mood he’s been in, which is extremely chaotic for the entire episode until he voices it. Even if he doesn’t KNOW it’s traumatising (“she loved it”), there is something going on here. And the fact that he SUBCONSCIOUSLY, maybe even consciously I don’t know, recognised that being in Amsterdam was a trigger for him and then apologised for the way it made him behave ??????? I’m actually tearing up thinking about it I’m so fucking proud that is UNBELIEVABLE

Also. “I don’t really remember.”

I don’t think I need to explain to you how fucking heart wrenching that is but. Fuck.

This is a super jumbled and badly put mess of an ask because I am very sleep deprived but. This episode just meant so much to me because I relate to Jamie SO MUCH in this. I have genuinely had a night very similar and I am almost certainly projecting but. Yeah. To people with abuse trauma, at least for me, this was genuinely the most nuanced depiction of it that I’ve ever, EVER seen, and I don’t even know if they did it on purpose.

IM SO SORRY FOR THIS ITS NOT VERY GOOD READING IT OVER. I am definitely projecting. And also want to be clear that it isn’t JUST trauma stuff like this is also a very wholesome development in Roy and Jamie’s relationship with some very touching and hilarious moments that I’m terrified to undermine and I’m scared it’s an awful take but. Just needed to share it with you

ALLL MY LOVE AS ALWAYS <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

never apologize for long messages!!!! i love long messages i love hearing from and chatting with my pals including my pen pals.... and like yeah. yeah i have been so much thinking about all of this. like he was happy! he was really happy at a lot of points in that episode but it had a bit of a weird exaggerated energy that didn't click until that point later when he told that. frankly brutal story that like ah, okay, that all makes sense now. he was upbeat and happy and it was clear he was having a good time and like you said, it was a lovely and touching and hilarious sequence in their subplot but 'manic' is the word that kept coming to mind. like, when you've got a mix of horrifying feelings and happy feelings about something and you decide no, i'm HAPPY i'm focusing on the good part i am FINE it's FINE it's all FINE, see how happy i am? see how normal and not ruined i am??

and yeah same i feel the same way about like- regardless of whether it was done intentionally that combination of that almost manic energy and 'i don't remember' and the way he brings it up as like- you get the feeling, really, that he knows on some level that what happened to him there was deeply, profoundly not okay, but doesn't quite know how to talk about it? gave me the same feeling that some of his comments earlier to higgins and ted did like. 'i want someone to tell me this wasn't okay, but i don't know how to say it.' and yeah like. the i don't remember comment... man that hit hard. his behaviour in that whole scene hit hard.

and that line about like. even though he wasn't there he was there with us..... winded me. that line winded me. if you grow up with an angry man in your house there will always be an angry man in your house, if you are born in a burning house you think the whole world is on fire, etc etc. it's a really complex and extremely familiar portrait of abuse trauma and i really, really appreciated seeing it. even if it's reading too much into it, even if it's projecting, i really appreciated it.

and man the whole thing especially with him bringing it up and then apologizing to roy like- i'm really proud of him for that too. he's trying really, extremely hard this season and doing such a good job of Being An Adult, being responsible, being accountable, being Good. even in situations where it has to feel unbelievably scary and threatening - going to the coaches about zava and presenting his concerns to the whole room full of authority figures he admires and respects, telling roy that story and then taking the initiative to apologize, even before this season, 'if you know how to make me better, i want to hear it' - it's just like. he's giving everything he has to do better, be better. he's- gutting himself, in pursuit of Being Good, in a couple of different ways and MAN it's like. it's hard to watch but it's incredible to watch at the same time. man. there's a reason this character absolutely kills me.

[wordywarriorwrites]

Calendar Girl - June

Series Masterlist: Calendar Girl Joel Miller Masterlist Author: @wordywarriorwrites​ Summary: The story of how Joel Miller falls in love again, told over a series of months. Series Warnings: NSFW. Smut. Language. Violence. Discussions of rape and consent. Alcohol consumption. Age-gap.

June

Nightmares plagued him.

Played non-stop in his head, like a macabre movie that presented the highlights of his worst fears, biggest mistakes, and deepest regrets. Sarah. Tess. Ellie. Their faces were featured all too frequently in an endless loop of horror and heartbreak. Most nights, he’d wake up in a cold sweat and shake it off.

On the nights he couldn’t? A copious amount of booze usually did the trick.

But then, the dreams of you – once a blissful respite – had also morphed into night terrors.

You – tortured or dead at the hands of a QZ guard, bandits, or Fireflies. You – beaten and raped by Wesley. You – bloodied, broken, and lifeless in his arms. In his nightmares, Joel failed to protect you, and the pervasive helplessness paralyzed him until he’d wake himself up screaming, often with Ellie at his bedside, looking as terrified as he felt.

Then, he started sleepwalking.

He’d come to one night in the foyer – propped up against the front door fully dressed, with no recollection of having gotten out of bed. Another night, Joel had woken up outside Ellie’s room, stood like a sentry just beyond the threshold. When he returned to consciousness on your back porch, with a stolen gun from the armory across his lap, he knew he’d fucked up. The idea that he’d jeopardized your safety, that he could’ve hurt you, Ellie, or some innocent bystander – that had kept him out of bed entirely.  

Just past sunrise, on day three of no sleep. He’d been at the barn for a few hours already when his little brother decided to pester him.

“You’re wound tighter than an eight-day clock,” Tommy observed, head tilted curiously. “Wanna tell me what’s going on?”

Joel grunted and kept on shoveling the shit pile in front of him, “M’fine.”

Tommy lifted his hat and ran a hand through his hair, “You sure? Haven’t seen you at mess in a couple weeks. Hank says you’ve been doin’ double-duty here, and I found out this morning you’ve signed up for night patrols?”

“Just makin’ myself useful,” he insisted.

“Look, Joel, I’m not trying to mother hen you,” Tommy replied as he shuffled his feet. “But you look like shit. And you don’t need more work – in fact, I think you need a break.”

Joel jerked his chin up, “You ain’t my keeper, Tommy. And you sure as hell ain’t the one to tell me what I do or don’t need. So, just mind your fuckin’ business, alright?”

Tommy snapped. He snapped back. They both shouted about forbidden topics and things best left unsaid. Harsh words turned into flying fists that attracted a crowd of onlookers. Joel had been running on fumes, but still managed to put his little brother flat on his ass more than once. Tommy – younger and a bit less sleep deprived – had always been a scrapper, and popped back up on his feet each time like a damn clown bop bag.

Joel reared his fist back, “Self-righteous-dickhead!”

Tommy ducked, “Stubborn-fuckin’-asshole!”

Blood flowed from Joel’s mouth and nose, and his knuckles screamed in protest with every hit that connected. A cut above Tommy’s eye trickled down his cheek, and even his sloppiest swings managed to land and hurt like hell. The number of spectators grew and got louder – as if the fight was for their entertainment and not something to be concerned about.

It ended when someone broke through the throng and sprayed them with ice-cold water from the very same hose Joel had used to fill the troughs not ten minutes before the brawl had started. Ellie had doused them, and after he and Tommy were separated, Joel noticed she hadn’t arrived alone. You, a few other town leaders, and a very harried Maria, with a yowling toddler on her hip, had flanked her. After the mob had quieted down and been dispersed, an explanation was demanded of them.

Tommy shrugged and shook his head, “Just a disagreement.”

“Brothers fight sometimes,” Joel volunteered just as nonchalantly.

Maria scoffed and stomped away. The other leaders followed. Tommy trailed after them. Ellie seemed both bemused and mollified, and after she turned off the hose, she gave a thumbs-up and declared she was headed back to bed.

You – all bleary-eyed, in your raggedy pajamas and unlaced boots, sporting some serious bedhead. You hadn’t said anything – just rubbed your eyes and motioned for him to follow you, and he did without hesitation or backtalk. It wasn’t until Joel was hunched over your kitchen table, a glass of preferred numbing juice in hand, that you finally spoke.

“Eat,” you grumbled as you placed a plateful of food down in front of him. “All of it.”

Chicken sandwich. Homemade chips. Fresh apple. It had all gone down like sandpaper, but it filled his too-long empty stomach, and he supposed that was good enough. When he finished, you put the plate in the sink and jerked your thumb toward the stairs. Joel limped along, with you right behind him, and you herded him into the bathroom for a long overdue shower. He emerged ten minutes later – stench-and-blood free, with a towel cinched tight around his waist.  You muffled a yawn, pointed to a bedroom across the hall, and he knew by the state of the rumpled sheets that it was your bed he was being directed to get into.

You kicked off your boots. Closed the curtains. Shut the door. Climbed in and patted the space next to you, and if he’d been in any other state of mind, he would’ve balked. He also had plenty of reasons to be wary – his sour mood, the nightmares, his nakedness. You’d ensconced him in your home, and though he’d willingly and silently obeyed your every reasonable request, it somehow felt as if he’d been put in some sort of timeout.

Joel should’ve been insulted. Pissed off. But the room was quiet and dark, the pillows and blankets smelled like you, and when you tucked yourself up against his back and made him the little spoon, he just fucking caved and melted into the mattress.

“Don’t deserve you,” he slurred.

You kissed the nape of his neck, “Ya’ got that right.”

No chastisement. No questions. Just your soft voice and gentle touch. Joel closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, he discovered he hadn’t moved an inch, and his stiff muscles indicated he’d gotten quite a bit of uninterrupted shuteye. He rolled onto his back and there you were – aglow in the lamplight and sat up against the headboard with your nose in a book.

“Time is it?” he rasped as he stretched.

You glanced up from the page, “Late.”

“Ellie?”

“At Maria and Tommy’s. She’ll stay with them while you stay here for a few days.”   

Joel acknowledged your answer with a squeeze of your knee. He had no doubt that you’d run interference for him with Tommy, Maria, and the other town leaders. He also bet you’d cajoled an undoubtedly disagreeable Ellie into staying at their place simply for his peace of mind. He wanted to thank you for everything, but you spoke up before he could.

“So, I hear you’ve been dancing with the devil in the pale moonlight?”

He chuckled lowly and stared at the ceiling, “Yeah, somethin’ like that.”

You closed your book and placed your hand on his chest, “Look, I know you’re not one for talking about how you feel –”

“That’s for damn sure.”

“But short of tying you to the bed –”

“Ooo, kinky.”

You laughed and whacked him on the chest, “Seriously, Joel.”

He grunted. Threw an arm around your waist. You let out one of your infamous, long-suffering sighs and changed the subject. You asked him if he was hungry, and when Joel petulantly answered, “yeah,” you snorted, and offered to make him something.

He burrowed his face against your stomach, “Just wanna hold you.”

“Alright, ya’ big baby,” you muttered playfully.

You shifted, and Joel cracked an eye open to watch you place your book on the nightstand. Once you got comfortable, he rested his head on your chest, and soaked up the warmth of your touch as it moved along his head, neck, and shoulders. You both hummed at the exact, same time, and when you giggled, he grinned, and squeezed you tighter.

“You know you can tell me anything,” you whispered. “No pressure. No judgment.”

Joel nodded slightly, “I know.”

A stretch of contented silence. His uninjured hand, unable or unwilling to remain idle, moved all on its own. Delved beneath your shirt and cupped your breasts. Mapped your waist and hip. Spanned the plush flesh of your tummy. Roamed over the outside of your thigh. Strayed and squeezed and caressed aimlessly until you whimpered and breathed his name.

“Please,” you begged lowly. “Please, don’t stop this time.”

Joel propped himself up on his elbow and grasped your chin, “I won’t.”

He pressed his mouth to yours. Parted your lips with his own. Deepened the kiss and tugged your lower lip with his teeth. The threadbare elastic of your pajama pants was a godsend – it gave way easily to his impatience – and it wasn’t until he shoved them and your underwear past your knees that he slowed down and searched your eyes.

“Show me, sweetheart,” he murmured, mouth pressed tight to your ear. “Show me how you like to be touched.”

You let out a ragged breath. Guided his unworthy hand between your legs. Dipped his fingers into your arousal, and then, maneuvered them up to your clit. Soft and slow at first, and then, firm, until your hips moved in tandem. Joel was so fucking turned on by the sound of your pleasure that his cock dripped onto the sheet like a leaky faucet. You eventually directed his fingers down, and Joel watched as they disappeared inside of you.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he groaned as you rocked yourself against his hand. “I could come right now just lookin’ at you. God damn.”

You moaned. Kicked your pants away. Spread your thighs wider and took his fingers to the second knuckle. A steady, in-and-out glide, and Joel followed your lead – swiped his thumb over your clit and brushed his fingertips against the soft, spongy spot deep inside of you that made all those soft noises you’d expelled morph into telling cries.

Joel licked into your slack mouth, “Feel good?”

You nodded frantically, “M’gonna come.”

“Look at me, sweetheart. Show me your eyes.”

Half-mast and pupils blown – you looked at him beneath your lashes as you fluttered and clenched. Joel encouraged you as you reached your peak. Soothed you as you came down from the high. He’d always found you breathtaking, but post-orgasm? You stunned him, and he stared at you in wonder as he slipped his fingers from you and sucked them into his mouth.

“Fuckin’ beautiful,” he growled.

You cursed. Pushed him onto his back. The taste of you lingered on his tongue, and he felt so fucking alive as he watched you peel your shirt over your head and straddle his waist.

“I want you, Joel,” you insisted.   

Joel sat up and grasped the back of your neck, “You got me, sweetheart.”

You took him in hand. Guided him inside. Joel had fantasized endlessly about what it would be like to finally have you, just like this, but nothing could’ve prepared him for the reality of it.

His face, cradled in your hands. Your eyes, bright and focused on his. The roll-and-sway of your hips and the tight, wet clutch of your sex, and the way you twined your arms around him so possessively. You made love to him as if he weren’t some broken, old man, and that was it.

He was yours.

Chapter 08: June - Part 2

[chxrrysangel]

Living to Regret

My work is not to be reproduced, translated, or plagiarized in any shape or format. All words are my own.

Summary | A drunken night leads to some rather unexpected developments. The morning after couldn’t have been possibly been worse, right?

Warnings | Angst, mention of blood/injury, reader is a klutz, a non-graphic one-off suicide joke, miscommunication, kissing

Words | girl idk, this isn’t proofread

Part of Pushing Boundaries

Your normal level of clumsiness increased tenfold when intoxicated. The stairs up to your apartment felt like an endless mountain, making you consider sleeping on them to avoid the climb. Your landlord wouldn’t appreciate that in the slightest though. So, slowly but surely you made it to your front door, fumbling with your keys until the lock finally clicked. Shoes ended up somewhere near the doorway, jacket somewhere on the couch (at least you hope it was the couch), and jewelry fell somewhere on the kitchen counter as you practically crawled to your bedroom door. You were being pretty stealthy, that is until you knocked over a mug and accidentally stepped on the glass before you had even a chance to clean up the shattered pieces.

“Fuck me!”, you whisper-yelled into the darkness. Just what I fucking needed. Before you knew it the hallway light had flickered on, which is exactly what you didn’t want to happen.

“Peach? Is that you?” Bucky’s silhouette was illuminated by the overhead light, giving him an almost angelic appearance. But in the current moment, you could only cringe at yourself for waking him.

“Hey…Buck. How’s it going?” You tried to be nonchalant, trying not to wince at the ceramic shards stuck in the bottom of your foot. If this conversation moves quickly enough, you can shed the fat tears threatening to spill in the privacy of your own room.

“Well, I was having a wonderful dream before my drunk roommate stumbled through the door like a blind man in an obstacle course.” He was grinning but you felt terrible.

“Welp, nothing’s going on here so you can just go back to bed. You took a step towards him, immediately doubling over in pain and regretting everything. Bucky rushed to your aid, concern etched all over his face. His eyes darted to the mess you tried to hide, putting the pieces together.

“You stepped on the glass?,” he questioned with a hint of anger, disappointment, and disbelief in his voice.

“Hey, don’t say it like that! It’s not like I meant to walk over the broken glass shards.” A much more awake Bucky quickly wrapped you up in his arms, carrying you bridal style into your shared bathroom.

He set you on the counter and left, searching for the first aid kit. Eventually, the sleep deprived man returned with a small plastic box and two glasses of water. One glass was set down on the back of the toilet seat, the other pushed into your hand.

“Drink.” No arguing needed, you downed the liquid like a 7th grader after gym class.

Bucky painstakingly pulled each small shard out of your foot with a pair of tweezers, setting each piece into the glass of water beside him. It took forever, but he didn’t mind. You passed the time by talking about your night out, sharing wild stories about the stupid things you’d live to regret in the morning (if you even remembered them, that is). He hung onto every word, reminding himself to tell you everything over breakfast in a few hours. After some neosporin and gauze, Bucky finally let you get off the counter.

“You’re all set.”

“Thanks Buck, you’re a lifesaver.”

Without really thinking, you wrapped your arms around the tall man and pulled him in for a kiss. He hadn’t a moment to even think about what was happening, and yet found deepening the kiss. His body responded immediately, melting into yours until there was no space between the two of you. But it was over as quickly as it began, a string of spit splitting between your lips as you separated.

“Goodnight.” Bucky watched your figure slip into the dim light of the hallway, disappearing behind your bedroom door. He stood there for an embarrassingly long amount of time, blushing and trying to comprehend what just occurred.

~~~

The morning light shined through your bedroom window, overwhelming your senses as the splitting headache began to make itself known. Your eyes wandered over to your bedside table, finding a tall glass of water and two Advil.

Bucky.

After chugging the glass in one go, you took the pills and prayed they worked faster somehow. Begrudgingly, you peeled yourself off your sheets and into the closet for clothes to wear. After finding something acceptable, you entered back into society by leaving your cave and heading towards the bathroom. To your luck, it was empty. You washed off the grimey bars from the night prior, trying to remember as much as you possibly could. You cringed at every uncovered memory, hating yourself for being so stupid.

That’s a problem for future me.

Dressed and teeth brushed, you exited the bathroom to meet one of the few men you could tolerate.

“Bucky. Hey.”

He looked like a dream this morning, which was annoyingly normal for him. Clad in sweats and muscle tee that was just a tad bit too cropped and a hair too small, he proved to be distracting to anyone with working vision.

“How’s the hangover?” He knew the answer to that question, he just liked fucking with you.

“Oh get bent Barnes.” You brushed shoulders as you passed him, heading towards the kitchen for tea.

He chuckled, entertained by your active avoidance of the question.

“I’m genuinely asking.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Sure you are. Well, I was thinking about all the things that happened last night. It’s a bit fuzzy if I’m being honest.”

He chuckled at your expense before proceeding to fill you in on what secrets you revealed while he played nurse

“I told you all of that?! I don’t even remember half of it happening.”

“How do you feel about what you do remember?” He tried not to sound too hopeful, masking his genuine curiosity at your next words.

“I’d like to jump off the Empire State, thank you. I regret everything.” Your head fell in your hands, wondering how you could be so stupid. You haven’t even looked at your phone, but you’re sure to find some horrifying photos and texts you’d like to bury with the dinosaurs.

“Everything?”

Did I stutter or something?

“Everything. I’m gonna have to ask Riri and Daisy for confirmation of all this, but I’m sure there’s gonna have to be a lot of retcon later. I did a lot of stupid things last night, more stupid than usual.”

Bucky didn’t respond to your thinking out loud, not even reassuring everything would be okay. But his posture said something he couldn’t; he was upset.

“Bucky?” No answer.

“Bucky.” Again nothing.

“James! Did I say something I shouldn’t have?”

He took a moment to respond, mulling over his rampant thoughts and trying not to bark at you.

“No, no you didn’t. Everything’s fine. In fact, what you said couldn’t have been more perfect.”

Everything clearly wasn’t fine, but his mind was halfway down the street before you could even begin to think of a response, his body trying to catch up. You watched in silent confusion as he grabbed a sweatshirt and his keys, slamming the door behind him without a single look in your direction.

“What the actual fuck just happened?”

[mwolf0epsilon]

The Umbaran Pathogen - Day 21: Shock

Summary: While on their way to the basement floor, Kix's team is reunited with the rest of the 501st's medics. Finding a cure will have to wait just a little bit longer...

Warning: Slight gore warning due to injuries, but it's not overly descriptive (there is mention of a potential loss of limb)

Twitch belongs to @gaeasun Pitch belongs to @lost-on-kamino

Prev / Next

[In which the events on Umbara are worsened by an unknown pathogen taking hold of both the 501st and 212th. These series of drabbles will follow a non-linear timeline based on the AI-less Whumptober prompt list for 2023.]

THIS STORY IS ALSO ON AO3

---

The lift had been fingerprint-locked with a specific code for each set of prints that were logged into the security system's database. Neither Rex, Fives nor Kix had anything on them that they could use to slice into the system and bypass this security measure so, as a result, the trio had been forced to rush down flight after flight of stairs. Making them regret ever having climbed up a tree, to reach the exposed vents that were mounted up on the 11th floor of the hospital.

Usually running down a few stairs wouldn't tire them out this badly, but considering how grueling the campaign had been (for various reasons), suffice to say they were not in great shape at that exact moment. Sleep deprived, hungry and thirsty. And maybe a little cranky as well, which was more than a little fair.

That said, they were finally on the first floor. Sweating bullets and practically dragging themselves forward, while utilizing the facility's map to figure out where the basement hatch was located. Because of course the Umbarans had decided to make it hard for just anyone to stumble into their precious server rooms.

Nothing could be easy on this gods forsaken planet.

"It says right here that the hatch is in a tiny room behind the main lobby." Fives offered as they got closer and closer to the entrance of the hospital. Keeping an eye out, despite all of the halls they had traversed being virtually abandoned. "Probably so the receptionist can keep an eye on whoever goes in and out..."

"It's only gotten colder..." Rex sighed. "My HUD is giving off insane temperatures..."

"You know, the harder I think about it, the more sense it makes to keep the temperatures so cold in here." Kix looked around, his own HUD showing him just how frigid the halls really were. "A lot of terrestrial arthropods don't do well in the cold, and Dogma looked like he'd turned into some kind of insectoid. The infected would probably avoid coming in here because it'd mess with their bodies and senses."

"When you put it like that, the basement thing also makes sense." Rex mused as he kept on walking at an even pace. "If the entire building is cold, but one section produces noticeable heat, they'd try to break in and congregate in the warmer server rooms. By keeping them in the basement, they can at least mask the difference in temperatures..."

"Still sucks that we have to go down there." Fives pointed out.

They were now in the lobby, which was as deserted as the rest of the facility. Briefly, Kix wondered if maybe the staff had been evacuated once the two battalions had made it planet-side. Or maybe something else had happened while both armies went at it out in the woods?

He couldn't be sure, nor did he really ponder on it for long. Not when the entrance door swung open, revealing two very familiar figures carrying...

"Twitch?! Coric?!" Kix gasped at the state of the two standing medics, before his eyes focused on the two prone figures they were carrying on their backs. "Oh stars..."

"What happened to Pitch and Sponge?!" The second most experienced medic heard Fives exclaim, as he rushed forward to help. Settling the unconscious Sponge on the floor and noting their bruised and bleeding face, before moving to do the same for Pitch. Startling slightly when, despite not moving in the slightest, the blue-haired medic blinked up at him and darted his eyes about, trying to take in the scene.

"They're...." Twitch's legs shook as he collapsed onto his knees. All energy drained as he tried to catch his breath in loud shuddering gasps.

"Easy vod'ika..." Rex comforted the younger clone, kneeling besides him to rest a hand on his back. "Take deep breaths, like this..."

While the Captain took charge of the youngest, Fives muttered a loud curse as something suddenly occurred to him.

"Kark... Their buckets aren't on them, and their armor is pretty busted up. They're gonna freeze in here..." The ARC pointed out, seeing the poor state they all were in. There was no way their kit's thermoregulation systems were operative "I... Blankets. There's got to be blankets in a hospital right?"

Paying no mind as the ARC ran off to look for something to keep their injured vode warm, Kix instead began to assess the situation. Sponge had a broken nose, busted lip, several scratches and bruises, and their breathing wasn't sounding too good. Coming off rattly and wet-sounding, which he hoped was just because they were trying to breathe through a broken and bloodied nose.

Likely concussed to hell and back as well...

Pitch, meanwhile, seemed to be awake and aware but unable to move. Perhaps also unable to feel anything at the moment, since he'd definitely be passed out from both the horrific gashes on his face, and the huge gaping hole in his upper-thigh. Both of which were bleeding sluggishly.

"Dogma stung him..." Twitch mumbled. "He uh... He can't... Can't move or talk or.... Or..."

"Easy vod." Rex continued to comfort Twitch.

"Coric..." Twitch blinked tiredly. Looking towards the CMO who was standing there with his left arm dangling uselessly at his side.

Looking at his Ori'vod, Kix's heart began to race ever so slightly. He was still standing, but the wound on his shoulder looked bad. So bad in fact that he could just about see exposed bone. The way the arm hung limply also did not give him much hope that Coric had any use of it left, since the muscles and ligaments on the shoulder had definitely been torn off.

And then there was the far away look in his brother's eyes that gave him a lot of reason to worry. That glazed unseeing look that he mostly only saw on dead vode. Or, in some cases, the ones that just couldn't take the pressure of war anymore.

Resistant to stress his left nut and shebs...

"He's going into shock." Kix hissed, looking to Rex. "Get his armor off."

"But he'll free--"

"Now, Rex!" Kix barked out the order, giving no space for the blond to argue. Thankfully the Captain seemed to understand and moved over to Coric so as to begin removing his kit. Twitch joining in, the younger medic likely trying to use the repetitive motion as a way to ground himself and avoid going into shock himself.

"Fives, have you found those blankets?" He called out after the ARC, who was somewhere under the receptionist's desk fiddling with the drawers and storage boxes.

"Got some of those electric ones that we've got in the Resolute's medbay, and some emergency ones as well!" Fives replied as he held up both the familiar reflective material and a very large bundle with a wire and remote attached to it.

"Great! Bring them over, as many as you can carry!" Kix knelt back down to turn remove Sponge's kit and then turn them on their side to avoid any chances of aspiration. His fellow medic didn't need to drown in their own sick, or end up with a bout of pneumonia on top of everything they'd already gone through. "Rex, Twitch, wrap up Coric in one of each blanket. I need one of you to keep an eye on his breathing and heart rate, and the other to raise his legs up. I'm going to tend to Pitch and Sponge, and once I'm done I'll have a look at his arm."

Fives handed over two of the blankets to Rex, before moving on to wrap up Pitch who was watching quietly. Giving Kix space to work on Sponge, while offering the blue-haired medic some basic first-aid. Between the two of them, the other two and most injured troopers were quickly patched up and bundled up nice and warm.

Then, Kix moved on to treating Coric.

As he'd guessed, his arm was in terrible condition. With all of the damage his shoulder had received, it was very likely he'd be losing the arm altogether. Something which made Kix's heart ache just thinking about it.

A loud and inhuman sounding shriek outside made everyone jump slightly. Pitch's eyes immediately darted towards the door, while Twitch visibly tensed. The younger medic's trembling worsening considerably as he recognized the horrid sound.

"Oh crap, I think they're here..." Fives gulped as he squinted out one of the tinted windows, seeing some movement in the distance. "We need to get that cure, and fast..."

"We're down three medics." Kix pointed out. "Cure or not, going out there won't end well for any of us... Especially if they know they have us boxed in."

"They hit so fast..." Twitch whimpered. "They caught us by surprise and... And..."

"We get the picture kid..." Fives winced, looking towards the injured medics and back out the door. "We'll... Think of something... But first, lets get down into the basement and look for what we came here for in the first place..."

Things were not looking good in the slightest. But what else could they do other than proceed with their mission? Maybe once they knew what they had to do, they could then figure a way to change the tides.

[lulaypp]

Lulaypp's Foliage of Lost Fics #1: Psychedelic

Note: Welcome to the first of few. The first of my unfinished/abandoned/kind-of-terrible fic dump collection thing. This is one I love a lot, the concept and torture was fun. But the pacing and decline of mental state had never sat well with me, and a few touches goes into ooc territory, and some lines ended up being weird.

Details of Fic: Nearly 7k words, Batfam Fandom, Jason-centric (and really there is barely anyone else around aside from some nameless villain), Whump with Emotions. Contains Hallucinations (ranging between just strange and gruesome), Non-consensual Drug Use (a heavy theme throughout the fic), Torture, Electric Torture, Broken Bones, Blood & Injuries (vivid, some hallucinated and some real), Sleep Deprivation

---------------------------------------------

Jason ground his teeth against the cry that wanted to tear out of him. The sharp, painful prickling insistently charged throughout his body as he convulsed uncontrollably. He tried to still his limbs against the spasms; locking his joints, clenching his fist or pressing down onto the cold metal surface, keeping his eyes screwed shut and pushing his head back into the table. Predictably, none of it worked, and the involuntary jerks alone were starting to hurt horribly. Mix that with the steady flow of electricity thrown into him through the table he was strapped to, his broken bones forcibly shifting with each convulsion despite the restraints holding down his limbs, the searing headache that had been plaguing him for far too long, and his lungs feeling tighter and tighter as seconds ticked by. 

He struggled to get a breath in, air coming in slivers before forced back out. A whine slipped past his throat as the pieces of bones in his broken leg moved. He wasn't sure if he was pulling against the cuffs around his wrists or they were just happily jerking away on their own. 

When the electicity finally stopped, he gasped, chest still feeling tight, but he could at least breathe and that is good right? 

It definitely shouldn't hurt this much. 

"Identities," a voice boomed into his ears making him wince at the sheer volume off it. 

Jason wet his lips, tasting the iron of a split, and coughed out a glob of blood before answering, "Wha' 'akes you thin' they-" He was forced to paused to suck in a painful breath and he knew that something was really wrong with his body. "-that they have... i'ntities." 

"Answer it, Red Hood or we'll go for five minutes." 

He tried to not flinch at the threat, rolling his unmasked eyes. "Fine fine. Batman is Bats One. Nightwing is Bats Two. Bats Four is, obviously, your's truly. Or maybe it isn't obvious since Three came in after-" 

The was a sigh in response, quickly followed by a backhand. Apparently, this guy lacks a sense of humour. How was it that Dick managed to win all the villains over by cracking jokes? How unfair. "Five minutes it is." 

Jason closed his eyes against the erratic thundering dread in his ears and heart. A scream tore out of him as strong volts charged into him. His bare back felt like it was burnt from where it was directly touching the table. He struggled to jerk out of the leather cuffs holding his limbs as he spasmed and gasped. His heart and lungs felt like crumbling and bursting at the same time. Seconds passed, minutes. He must have blacked out at one point as when he dragged his eyes open, the electricity had stopped, and he was certain it hadn't been five minutes yet. Unless if his internal clocked was far too messed up by now. Which, while not too surprising, just showed how long he had been here. 

"Identities," the voice demanded again. 

It was a bit of a struggle for him to turn his strapped-to-the-table head, but he managed it and glared at the guy. He was far too tired for coherent words. 

"Still a no? How about we switch up the power. That was two, so does four sounds good to you?" 

Jason wanted to curse the man out but only managed a tired snarl. His breaths were coming in stuttered, laboured gasps, his heart was trying to break out of his already partially broken ribcage and his brain could hardly process any coherent thoughts. 

"Power five for two then." 

That was the only warning he got before the volts started again. His back arched from the table as a breathless scream-whine trailed out of him, his vision going white. He clawed, at the metal suface, at the cuffs, trying to get away. The bliss of unconsciousness was quickly approaching when it stopped, giving him several seconds of break before starting up again. He trashed against the restraints, scrambling and clawing and tugging. He barely felt the wounds around his wrists reopening and his sprained ankle screeching in the midst of the flooding electricity. The volts would stop periodically before running again, successfully keeping him awake and in pain. His chest felt tight and the bones of his broken arm ground against itself. 

When it finally stopped for real, his mind was reeling and nauseous. He collapsed limp against the table, drained and exhausted, sucking in desperate breaths. 

"Identities," was repeated. 

A tired groan left him as he tried to pull his eyes open. He wasn't successful. "God. Stop it already," he hissed between short puffs of breaths. "We both know... know that... I wouldn't tell you even... if I do know." 

"Oh, we both know that you do know who they are." 

"Then 'm not-" He coughed, lungs bursting and clenching, and he gritted his teeth against a pained moan. 

"I will let you reconsider your choice." 

He heard footsteps fading away before a door screeched open and slammed closed, the grating, loud noise making him wince. Edges of sleep pulled at his mind, and he couldn't fight it. 

But something pulled him back. A sharp, short burst of electricity pulsed from underneath him and jolted him awake. His eyes were slipping shut and it happened again. And again. 

He cursed. Cursed the man, the table, the cuffs, his situation as a whole. He wasn't getting any sleep any time soon. 

- 

He moved his eyes to the door as it swung open. His mind and sight were muddled with exhaustion and pain, a thick fog hazing over his vision and thoughts. He had passed out at one point, but someone had come over and slapped him awake before threatening to waterboard him if he fell under again. Jason hated bending down to threats, but he wasn't interested in getting drowned either. 

The blurry moving dots that he assumed was the tormentor entered, closing the door before approaching. "I don't suppose that you have changed your mind." 

"Bite me," Jason snarled. "Why don't you go back to where you belong?" A hand suddenly patting his cheek roughly made him jump. 

"I don't doubt that that is where you belong as well, even if you are on the opposite side of crime. But that is no matter." 

There was a heavy thunk followed by sounds of rummaging, the sound reminding him of Bruce or Tim shifting through their toolboxes and the comparison did not help his feeling of dread. He startled when something cold and heavy tapped on his right forearm, slowly moving to his wrist and hand. His first guess was a crowbar, which fuelled his panic, but the weight felt different (perks of being beaten to death by a crowbar!). Heavier. Specifically, the head that was softly landing on... It was a hammer. 

It was then that the tool was raised higher and slammed down onto the back of his index finger. He hissed, reflexively trying to pull away as another hit smashed onto the knuckle. The hammer continued to move to his other fingers, hitting the joints until they break and shatter. It hardly paused between one pound and the next, leaving him gasping. His entire hand was radiating with burning hot agony that licked fires up his arm, but he refused to let out any more than a hiss. That was before three of his broken middle fingers the grasped tightly and pulled and twisted roughly, making him scream, vision sparkling. 

"Identities." 

Wow, he was starting to hate that word. He tried to conjure and throw a fancy mix of profanities, but the man probably had seen it coming as the hammer slammed onto the back of his hand. Repeatedly. He bit his lip against a cry. It felt like his entire hand was shattered. He did scream, however, when something dug into his hand, hooking onto the broken bones, and pulled. His struggles made it worse, causing the claw- it was the hammer's claw, it had to be- to bury deeper. 

As he was trying to breathe through the agony raging across his limb, he felt a hand pressing down onto his probably dislocated knee. "'go of me, you jerk," he hissed, trying to move his leg away without making it painful. 

"You tell me their identities, then I might," the man said as he pressed harder onto the joint before something smashed onto it. 

Jason let out a strangled noise as the thing slammed repeatedly in rapid succession, making his vision spark and spasm. He clenched his fists, regretting it as it pulled against the hammer dug into his right hand.  Something pushed down onto his knee and his lips bled as he bit it hard, screwing his eyes shut against the onslaught. He didn't get to hold back the scream that left him as the table charged to life, electricity crackling into him. Every convulsion caused blinding agony to burn from his broken leg and hand, pulsing into his mind. 

It stopped just before he could have a chance to black out. His mind was left thrumming with exhaustion and pain. He was really tired. 

He felt something cold and metal grasping his broken little finger before it squeezed and twisted. He clenched his eyes shut and could only try to breathe. 

- 

Jason grumbled out a curse when he noticed that his broken right hand was kindly wrapped in a bandage of sorts. It just meant that they were intending on keeping him around for a while. At least the hammer was gone. He had woken up again to the room being empty and the table, thankfully, turned off. He didn't dare to shift his lower half, not wanting to risk aggravating that newly broken knee and the older broken calf, as he tested the leather restraints again, pulling and twisting. They dug into the existent chaffing on his wrists, but he kept at it. They were wrapped tight around his limbs with no obvious latches, he assumed they were probably hidden somewhere underneath the table. The other possibility, which he'd rather not be a reality, was that there were somehow no latches or locks, the ends of the cuffs sewn together or something. The leather was definitely of good quality, not wearing even a bit no matter how hard he tried scratching and clawing at them. Whoever this guy was, he definitely had good funding or just happens to have access to a lot of quality stuff; the table, the cuffs, the fact that Red Hood was still unable to escape for an estimated week. 

He hated that he had no idea who the person who caught him was. Red Hood had just happened to be checking in on a suspicious looking dilapidated warehouse after helping Red Robin in an exhausting battle with Killer Croc and Clayface. Before he could do anything effective about it, he was jumped by too many people, knocked out, and apparently dragged to where he was stuck now.  

Well, not quite. They drugged and threw him in some room with a simpler collection of restraints, but they didn't account for the Pit's enhancements and the drugs practically flew over him and he had nearly succeeded in breaking out. Very nearly succeeded. 

And now he was stuck here, with leather straps pinning his wrist, ankles, upper arms and head to an electrifying table, and the leader of whatever this was trying to dish out Batman and the rest of the family's identities out of him. Like that would ever happen. While interrogation might not be the worst kind of capture, it was definitely somewhere high up in the list. It got very annoying, especially when the interrogator had the nerve to believe that he would bend down to their demands if they hit him hard enough. 

Jason took a deep breath, trying to clear his head. At least they let him pass out this time around which was relatively nice. The table was perpetually cold against his bare back, and it caused the bits of burns left there to twinge every so often, especially when he moved. It didn't necessarily hurt, but it was definitely uncomfortable. 

The door opened and Jason snarled as footsteps came closer, two people from the sound of it. Yup, this was not going to be fun. 

A person stepped into his field of view, a lackey most likely, and started rummaging through a bag of sorts. It wasn't long before he found what he wanted and pulled out an empty syringe, fitting a needle at the end. 

Jason's eyes widened as panic swished in his mind. "Get that away from me," he growled when the syringe came close. He struggled against the cuffs and practically tried to tear out his limbs from his restraints when the tip of the needle touched his right forearm. His heart thumped loudly in his ears as the tip pressed into his skin, a sound strangling out of him. He bucked and twisted as his vision went hazy. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to not fall into a full-blown panic attack, it was just a stupid needle, and bit his tongue when he felt the thing pull out. 

When he dared to look again, he managed to catch a glimpse of red in the tube just as it disappeared into the bag. Blood. His blood. He could almost laugh, good luck trying to find anything with it. Bruce had made sure to keep any kind of trail untraceable. Even if it wasn't so, the Pit had messed up with his physiology, and he was still legally dead, thus no new medical records. 

His eyes jumped to the leader guy as the man came from his left and he snarled. "You won't even get anything from it." 

"I'll get what I want," the man replied evenly before he, surprisingly, left with the other guy. But, unsuprisingly, not before turning the table on at a low voltage. 

- 

Jason believed migraines and headaches to be two different things, despite having simmilar symptoms. Like... pixies and fairies. Or elves and pixies. And he hated having both at once. This was one of the times when he wondered how Tim had been able to pull off that one month sleepless marathon. Maybe it was the coffee. Maybe he could use some coffee right now. His point still stands, headaches were a nuisance while migraines deserved to be in Arkham more than he himself did. Not that he should be in the asylum. 

He winced as another sharp jolt of electricity sparkled, keeping him up and awake just as he was about to fall asleep. 

The door opened and he counted two people approaching. He cursed silently and glared at the first person to come into his line of sight. It was the leader-guy-person. 

"Anything to say before we start, Red Hood?" 

Jason broke into a cocky grin. "You can kindly go to-" A hand was slammed over his mouth and he scowled. That was rude. 

Before he could bite it, however, it was removed and he fished out a random creative collection of words from his brain. But he froze when he saw the same other guy from before coming with the same bag in hand. 

The bag was opened and a syringe was pulled out, partially filled with something off-white. Jason wanted to scramble back in panic but it plunged in and pulled out before he could. Whatever that was, it was already inside him. He didn't know what in the world was that and it was in him. 

"What did you do?" he growled, trying to not expose his fear and panic. 

"Let's just say history makes for a very good inspiration." 

Jason snarled as his mind echoed with dread. Not good. Not good. This was very very bad. 

Another filled syringe was pulled out as he tried and failed to pull away. 

- 

The dim lights were starting to burn into his eyes and he closed them with a groan. Only open them again when a clown creeped into the darkness. He turned his head away from the light. He really hated drugs in all shapes and forms. 

There was a murky voice saying something and he only knew what was being said due to the repetition of the word. "Identities." That was all the guy had been saying through out this entire thing. 

He didn't know whether or not they had concluded that he was more immune to chemical things, but whatever they had been giving him just happened to be strong enough to override his defences. It was adding to the migraine and making his mind feel muddy. The table charged again and he groaned. He also felt like vomiting. Horribly. He was only holding it back because he would probably choke on bile with his current position and drugged mind. 

He hated getting drugged, with or without his consent. He hated drugs as a whole. And he didn't know what on earth had they given him. It might have been a mix of things. Judging by the wierd things dancing around his vision- were those tiny Nightwings with bunny ears?-, it might be a sort of hallucinogen. 

A cold sharp thing poked at his arm again and he tried to twist away. He was never successful as the needle went through despite his struggles, throwing whatever concoction the syringe was filled with. Why couldn't they just continue to beat him up? Why this stupid drug thing? 

Something snatched his jaw, forcing his eyes back to the light. He hissed. The voice was too close when it growled, "Identities, Red Hood, and this would be over." 

It took a bit for him to understand what was being said. "'ot h'penin', b'stard." His own voice sounded echo-ey and far... 

He flinched as a sudden creaking and slamming sound echoed everywhere. He gasped when the electric table started up again at low power, keeping the flow steady. The bunny Nightwings turned into one and hopped onto his chest. He scowled at it as it booped his nose with its paw-hand. 

"You're an idiot, you know that?" It suddenly talked! It talked! In a squeaky Dick's voice to boot! 

Jason wasn't interested in having anyone in the room seeing him talk to his own hallucination and resorted to internally replying, "You're saying like it is news. You're going to have to be a bit more specific as to what exactly you're referring to." 

Bunny Nightwing- or Bun-Wing, he decided- gestured to the world around them. "You are pumped with gallons of who-knows-what and you are still stuck here." 

"Oi. No no. This was not my fault. I did not sign up for this." 

"It so is." It sing-songed. 

“Then enlighten me on just how is this my fault.” 

"Couldn't even stop yourself from getting caught. You really are such a trouble maker. You never change." 

Okay. That hurt. How was it that his own hallucination was so mean to him? "You're mean. I hate you. Why can't you do something useful. Like turning off this table? Or the lights?" 

Bun-wing rolled its eyes. "You just said I am your hallucination, you idiot. Unless if you want to hallucinate the lights being off, then be my guest." 

Jason nearly huffed out loud. He tried shifting to, hopefully maybe, find a position where the shocks won't hurt as much, but forgot that he was a half-mess of broken bones. He gritted his teeth and screwed his eyes shut, stars and fireworks flashing in his mind. 

"Stop moving, you idiot. I'm gonna fall off." 

"Stop calling me an idiot, you selfish jerk. And don't look like Dick if you're not going to behave like one." 

"You prefer it if I look like someone else? How about someone with a better sense of humour?" 

It cackled, sounding too close to him, and Jason snapped his eyes open, glaring. 

Bun-wing had the nerve to look victorious. "Then I'm staying as I am. Besides, how do you know that this isn't how Dick behaves when he isn't around you? Maybe Dick had always been hiding all of his real feelings from you, trying to be the 'good big brother'." 

Why was it that his mind decided to conjure something who liked to rattle off his stashed away insecurities? "You know that I no longer think that.” 

"Do you, though?" Jason didn't get to retort when it snapped, "Language." 

"I hate you." He pointedly turned away from it. But it didn't stop talking. 

- 

"Stop it," Jason finally growled out loud, certain that the room was empty. Bun-wing spent the past minutes-hours prattling on and on, either about some stupid inane thing, or uprooting one of Jason's many deeply buried fears and insecurities.  "Just stop it 'lready and shut up." 

"Why, Little Wing? Scared? That it might be true? That dad wouldn't find you again?" 

"You shut up. He's not my 'dad' an' y'know nothing." 

"But, Jay, I'm your mind. So technically, everything I say is what you believe." 

"Te'nicality's stupid." 

"It is, but it doesn't make it less true. You're the outcast of the family, if you're even part of it in the first place. You're the Pit-crazed murderer maniac who nearly killed Tim. You're the failure Robin who died." 

"’said, shut up." Jason shifted his wrist in the leather cuffs. Maybe he could pull his hand out and strangle the imaginary rabbit. 

"I'm just saying what you are. What Bruce thinks you are. You don't even belong with us." 

Those were not what Bruce thought of him. He kinda knew that. Bruce had said it himself when Jason had admitted his doubts. 

"You forget, he nearly killed you by slicing you neck, letting you bleed out and get caught in an explosion. He didn't try to save you, remember?" 

He would never forget about it, the night still haunting him. The contempt in Batman's face. The batarang searing into his neck. The burn and crumble of the building around him.  

"I'll say that is a pretty good example of how much Bruce hates you. If he now acts like he doesn't, we both know how much of a good liar he is. He-" 

"Just shut up!" Jason bit his lip, trying to breathe. Whatever stupid things his hallucination was saying was not true and he knew that. But his brain was feeling murky and was apparently too messed up to care. He wanted to throttle that stupid rabbit. 

"No, you don't." 

"I may be imagining you but that doesn't mean I don't want to kill you, you pretentious-" 

"Language." The rabbit booped his nose again and that was starting to get really annoying. 

He scowled. "Ge' off me. You're heavy." His chest was starting to hurt from where the bunny had been hanging out for the past array of minutes. 

"No, you idiot. I weigh nothing but thoughts. Your chest is just having problems with itself." 

That... that didn't sound right. "What d'you mean by that?" 

Bun-wing rolled its eyes. "You are so dim sometimes." 

"Can you stop insulting me an' get to the point? I know that I am a stupid idiot, even if you haven't been telling me that for the past who knows how many hours." 

It looked smug and victorious. "Allow me to enlighten you, Jay Jay." 

Jason cringed at the new nickname but didn't protest as the hallucination would only irrate him further. 

"You battled Killer Croc and, if I remember correctly, both you and Tim concluded that you had cracked some ribs. Time skip several hours or so, you arrogantly thought that you could get out of here and you collected even more injuries. We skip again, you spent days here, on this table, getting shocked to oblivion. I'd say that your chest and maybe lungs and even your heart is not too happy with you." 

He ground his teeth. Now that he was paying attention to it, he could feel the pain coming from inside his chest. He had also forgotten about the table slowly pulsing in shocks up until now, his drugged mind having thrown the detail into the back burner. And now he couldn't stop feeling it, the light prickles coming from everywhere underneath him, periodically jolting him; not strong enough to be outright painful, but definitely uncomfortable. Mixed with his current state of mind, his head was starting to feel a little more than slightly sick. 

- 

Jason had gone back to ignoring Bun-wing, hating the squeaky voice of his brother coming from the imaginary rabbit. It was dreadfully annoying. Not mention some of its words just hit too close to home. 

Instead he closed his eyes and tried to remember quotes from Alice In Wonderland. He couldn't. But the attempt made for a good distraction. 

A sudden slam made him jump. His eyes snapped open and he hissed as the light burned. And he cried out when something pressed down and ground onto his shattered knee. Joker flickered above him, crowbar twirling. But fizzled out when a different voice spoke. 

"Identities." 

Jason cursed viciously, ignoring Bun-wing's "Language." 

"So you have yet to give in." 

"Wouldn't. Ge' 'ver it." 

"You're reeeally sure you wouldn't? I wouldn't be so cocky if I were you," Bun-wing taunted. 

"Just shut up already, you pre'entious 'mpostoring deadweight," Jason snapped. 

"Rude," the rabbit kicked his chin lightly. 

At the same time the leader villian guy spoke up, "Tell me, Red Hood. What is it that you see? What do you see and hear?" 

Jason wordlessly glared at the man. 

The fizzy shocks that had been emitting from the metal surface underneath him jump to a viciously strong voltage. 

- 

"You're wrecked." 

Jason closed his eyes and ears; the latter obviously figuratively; from the words. 

"Come on, Jason. It is not like I'm real. We both know that." 

Nope. No. There was no one talking beside him. If he didn't see it, then it wasn't real. 

A scoff. "Are you really giving your imagination the silent treatment?" 

He wanted to sleep. The table had been off for ages yet he was still kept up by his own mind. He was beyond exhausted. 

"C'mon, Jay. Don't be like this." 

It had to be two or three days since he last slept. His internal clock had gone out of the window and he wasn't wholly sure if his interrogator had a schedule. He wasn't even sure if that guy was even real half of the time. His hallucinations, in a long run, started to get confusing. 

"Jason..." 

He whined and finally turned his head to meet Tim by the table. "Please just stop talking and let me sleep, Red." 

Imaginary-Tim took a sip from his mug of limitless coffee, his neck tie sparkling with tiny glittery bats. "Sorry. You kinda said you probably shouldn't earlier." 

At least having this Tim was better than Bun-wing. Imaginary-Tim wasn't as annoying or willing to hurt as the rabbit. "Did?" 

"They threaten to waterboard you again if you fall asleep." 

Jason vaguely remembered that. He had fallen asleep at one point, gotten a bit of a nightmare -thank you, Bun-wing- and had woken up drowning. His trashing had successfully reignited all his injuries; broken legs and arms shatered wrist and hand, the awful thing in his chest, the stinging burns on his back, and a whole array of unidentifiable throbbing all over him. It still hurt now and he wanted to curl up in a corner somewhere until it all went away. But he couldn't do that, he's still stuck to the table. And imaginary-Tim had clarified that he couldn't help. 

...But maybe... he could... "Red?" 

Imaginary-Tim raised an eyebrow. 

"Can you- Can you maybe like..." Jason felt hesitant and slightly embarassed to voice it out, even to his own hallucination. 

But Tim, smart even in Jason's imagination, deduced what he wanted. Or maybe just knew since this Tim was just a conjurance of his own mind. 

Imaginary-Tim reached out a hand and patted Jason's hair. And Jason melted. He knew that he was just imagining things and he couldn't even feel it, but just the thought of it was nice. Imaginary-Tim’s fingers was the most comforting thing he had ever felt in days. 

- 

So, the gaggle of people holding him had apparently decided to keep him constantly and steadily drugged by hooking him up to an IV thing. He also assumed at it was making sure he didn't die of dehydration. 

He had asked imaginary-Tim how long had it been since he last slept and the hallucination merely replied that he didn't know because he hadn't slept either. He missed that figment of his imagination. Tim had left him alone at one point. 

His interrogator hadn't come by even since the IV pole had been set up. He hadn't been able to willingly stay up anymore. He suspected that something in the concoction of fluids injected into him was doing that for him. 

Joker leered over him, elbows pressing onto his aching chest. "Come on, Jay Jay. You're being awfully quiet." 

Jason turned away but there was a Joker there too. 

"Not finding a punchline?" 

He closed his eyes but something raking over his bare chest made him open them again. 

"We can always turn this party up a notch!" Two other Jokers stepped into view, all wielding crowbars. 

- 

It wasn't real. He knew that. But it felt so vivid. 

"..S-stop..." 

The Jokers went on giddily thunking their crowbars all over him, ignoring. It hurt despite it all being in his head. His heart was beating erratically as his chest felt caved in. His shoulder was shattered again and again despite never been broken in the first place. He tried to tell himself that it was just his hallucination, this wasn't real, but it was starting to get muddier and muddier by the minute. 

“Let me tell you a joke, Jay-kins,” one of the Joker spoke up, grabbing his jaw to turn his head to meet green eyes. “What bird dies in flames and comes back to life?” 

A robin. Him. 

The grin widened. “Bet you think its you, eh?” 

Another Joker made a buzzer sound, “No-se-ree! You got that wrong.” The crowbar was raise before “Fore!” and it slammed onto his shattered knee and he screamed. “Guess again, Hoody.” 

He couldn’t answer even if he wanted to. Couldn’t think. There was just so much overwhelming pain coursing and pulsing through every inch of him. And the worse part was that he knew it wasn’t real. 

All three pairs of manic green eyes suddenly swivelled up to behind his head. "Oh look who decided to join the party!" they chorused as they melted into one. 

At first Jason thought that it was the bad guy again. But the familiar dark figure entering Jason's periphery proved him wrong. For a moment, for a short sliver of moment, he hoped that it was real. 

"Look who I brought!" Jason flinched at the voice of Bunny Nightwing, the rabbit hopping onto the table. 

Batman stepped closer, emotionless as ever. 

Jason knew what was going to come. He’d had this nightmare before. He struggled in vain. The cuffs were still holding him too tight. "No... no please no..." 

Batman snarled and pulled out a batarang. 

- 

The blade trailed down his chest from his neck again, drawing patterns over his heart, tracing over the scar near his throat. It was pressed deep enough to break skin. But there wasn't any blood or new cuts. He realistically knew that, despite the flows of red that shines in the blinding light. All the while, Batman, one hand moving the batarang through the flow of blood, was by his head, free hand almost gently combing his hair, whispering words. Assurances. 

"Shh... It's okay, Jason. A little more." 

"That's it. You can hold on a little longer can you?" 

"Now that didn't hurt too much, didn't it? Can you take a little bit more, Jay? 

Jason sobbed and tried to get away. The twisted words, the sharp batarang, the gentle hand, they were all too jarring and confusing for him to coherently comprehend, messing up his head even further. He couldn't even jerk his head away from the fingers with the strap holding him in place. 

How was it that he was hallucinating all of this? Maybe this was- No. It couldn't be real. This wasn't real. He couldn't let himself think that. 

He bit his lip against a cry as the batarang hooked at his skin and pried it open, back arching from the table as he struggled. He whined the blade pressed down onto the scar at his neck, causing a fresh flood of red to gush out. 

"Shh.. shh... You can take it, Jay," Batman whispered, fingers brushing back his bangs. "You're going to stay strong for me aren't you?" 

Jason screwed his eyes shut against the brimming tears but a pair of furry paws pulled them open again. 

"C'mon, Little Wing." Bun-wing rolled its eyes from were it was hovering by his head. "Stop trying to run off." 

Jason summoned what little strength he could fish out of his addled brain and glared at the rabbit. 

- 

He opened his eyes with a gasp when something cold and wet crashed onto him. Trying to blink his vision clearer, Jason realised that he passed out at one point and greatly hoped that they were not going to hold on to their threat. His sight remained blurry as a voice pierced the ringing in his skull. 

"Identities." 

He tried to get his tongue to cooperate and throw out a curse, but it was a mumbled, slurred response. His thoat felt dry and rough. 

"I am assuming that you have yet to give in?" 

He glared at the villian leader guy– well, the blob which he believed was the villian leader guy– and growled. 

"Then we'll go again.” 

His heart fell. He hated the drugs and the hallucinations it made his mind conjure. He never liked those things in the first place. And he was afraid of what too much of it would do to his mind and body. The childhood fear of being dependant on it. He could already feel the more immediate side-effects of overdose; the relentless nausea, his erratic heartrate, the throbbing-over-pounding headache, the deep layering pains in his chest. And he wasn't keen on meeting any of his imaginary conjurance again. Why couldn't this guy be more physical? He wouldn't even complain against the usage of a crowbar. 

He forced his mouth to work. "'ou- You guys 're 'finitely n-not th'mos'... creative people in'th'world." 

There was a dark chuckle of amusement. "Don’t tempt me, Hood. I can get very creative. Set up the new drip and make sure to increase the potency." 

A hand grabbed his bound arm and Jason struggled, feeling a needle threatening to pierce his skin. But he wasn't strong or free enough to fight or get away as the sharp tip went in. His heart was pounding in his ears as he still kept on trying to break free, twisting his wrists, borken or not, in the cuffs. 

His broken knee was suddenly twisted and he screamed, vision flashing with stars. His movements faltered as the pain pulsed and throbbed, mind fizzing between the agonising shifts of broken bones and the dreading pricks of needles in his arm. 

When it all finally stopped, he struggled to catch his breath, lungs feeling far too compressed and throat too tight. He winced when the lamp overhead was adjusted to shine directly into his eyes and flinched at the sound of the door slamming close as the people left him alone. For now. 

- 

His entire head was a throbbing mess of aches. The dark walls of the small space crumbled around him endlessly despite the too bright light coming from somewhere. Was it the way out? But he couldn't dig himself out, tied down as he was. And- and the dirt was going to suffocate him and- 

No, he wasn't buried. He was somewhere else. The table. Empty room. Not underground. 

He tried to blink away the hazy hallucination around him. It just blurred further and he closed his eyes. 

Not real. Not real notrealnotreal- 

A half cry left him as he clenched his broken hand in attempt to ground himself to reality, focusing on how the skin tore further. That was real, he chanted in his mind, the things he was seeing wasn't. He curled his fingers in tighter and sucked in a shaky breath. 

A touch on his shoulder and a familiar voice made his eyes snap open. 

No. Please please no. 

Batman stood over him, a snarl curling his lips. He raised a crowbar, bringing it down and it stabbed as a batarang. Jason screamed as the blade sunk into his chest, twisting in his heart. He struggled against the restraints, ignoring the way his movements pulled at his shattered knee and tore further into his wrists. 

The crowbar pulled out before the table shocked him with a quick burst of electricity. He let out a breathless cry as, at the same time, the glinting metal weapon impaled his knee. Fingers touched his hair and he tried to run away, hearing soft incoherent words getting whispered in his ear. 

"Stop!" He finally sobbed out when the batarang started to peel the skin of his right wrist. "St-stop... please just- just stop..." 

His breath hitched as he heard Batman’s, "Shh, Jay. It's alright. We've got you." 

It wasn't alright. It wasn't alright. He knew this wasn't alright. He also knew that this wasn't real but it was hard to believe that when Batman was hovering above him, hurting him. And he could vividly feel every single pain inflicted upon him. 

He whined at a particularly harsh wrenching of the crowbar still embedded in his leg. Breathing was getting too hard, his heart was pounding loud and uneven in his chest and it all hurt. Fingers pried open his half-clenched broken fist, pressing it down, as he spasmed against a new flood of electricity. "B, please stop. Please..." 

"Stay still, Jay." Reprimand was in the tone. "Stop moving. But you never were good at listening to orders. I shouldn't expect much from you." 

Jason flinched. All in his head. All in his head.  Not real. There was no way Bruce would say that. But knowing all that didn't make it hurt any less. 

He suddenly felt his legs getting moved and realised that the leather cuffs and straps holding him down were gone. He didn't waste any time and scrambled back as far as he could, not caring when he fell of the table. He just needed to get away. Far, far away. 

Batman followed him and he tried to get up and run, but he was too hurt and weak - weak, helpless, useless - and collapsed before he could even get his legs under him, a pained moan and whine escaping his throat. His knee was pulsing and shrieking and he curled up on the floor with a whimper despite his mind screaming at him to get away. 

"Jason," a different voice called out. It wasn't Batman. It wasn't Bun-Wing or Joker or anyone else who would hurt him. He peered between his bangs and saw Tim. Red Robin was crouched in front of him, a hand outstretched. "Jay. Hey. It's just me, alright. I need you to stop moving or you'll hurt yourself further, okay?" 

Jason couldn't understand the uttered words but he knew that Tim hadn't hurt him. His little brother never had. He kept still as Tim shuffled closer and moved the outstretched hand onto his shoulder, giving a gentle squeeze. 

"I need you to calm down and breathe slowly, Jason. I don't know what you're seeing, but I know that not all of it is real. Can you stay still while me and Bruce check you for injuries?" 

Bruce? He wanted his father. Longed. 

But then Batman stepped closer and he flinched back. He whimpered as Batman gently touched his face, thumb stroking across his bruised jaw. He wanted to run, but he was too exhausted. Hurt. Batman tugged him from the floor, wrapping a large black thing around him, and he let it happen. Tim was still there, holding the broken leg, and Jason screamed raggedly when it was straightened. 

A soft, rumbly voice pierced through the pain-fuelled haze and he looked up when something brushed his bangs. Bruce’s strong gaze met his and he felt his breath catching in his throat. Bruce was here. He melted as his father embraced him, trembling and whimpering into the armoured chest. He felt safe. 

It probably was a hallucination, much like Tim, but he would take this comfort even if it wasn't real. 

[ao3feed-irondadspiderson]

Drowning On Land

https://archiveofourown.org/works/53142964 by kyle_111232 Peter is struggling with the death of his Aunt May when he is moved into the care of Skip Westcott. Harley tries to gain Peters trust back so he can help the other boy with whatever he is dealing with. Peter doesn't know how to let anyone back in, so he just feels like he is drowning in his head. Words: 2068, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage Categories: F/M, Gen, M/M Characters: Peter Parker, Harley Keener, Pepper Potts, Tony Stark, Natasha Romanov (Marvel), James "Bucky" Barnes, Ned Leeds, Michelle Jones (Marvel), Helen Cho (Marvel), Skip Westcott, Friday (Marvel) Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Harley Keener/Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Pepper Potts, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark Additional Tags: Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Precious Peter Parker, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Protective Pepper Potts, Sexual Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Warnings May Change, Peter Parker is a Mess, Peter Parker Has Panic Attacks, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Abusive Parents, References to Depression, Harley Keener Needs a Hug, Harley Keener & Peter Parker Friendship, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Eating Disorders, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Suicide Attempt, Underage Smoking, Self Confidence Issues, Not Canon Compliant, Dead Aunt May Parker (Marvel), Peter Parker is Trying His Best, Protective Harley Keener, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Trans Peter Parker read it on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/53142964