#still in a coma

[morganski-19]

Chills Right to the Marrow part 9

part 1, prev part

Wayne cries when he’s allowed to see Eddie again. Able to see his whole face unobstructed without the breathing tube. He looked so much more peaceful like this. Like he’s just asleep, nothing more. The calmest sleep of his whole damn life.

Eddie was never one to be able to sleep well. Waking up at odd hours of the night or staying up until the sun’s about to rise. Finding the most uncomfortable looking ways to finally fall asleep. The roaring storm he is during the day reduced to quiet snores.

If Wayne listens right, he can almost hear it. Among the other buzzing in the room, every few seconds there is a sharp inhale then a raspy exhale. His boy, breathing on his own.

He is so close. He is so close to being right here again. Right in this room, filling the emptiness with his energy. Making the best out of a bad situation. Just like he always has. All he has to do is open his eyes and then he will be free.

Well, except for the chain stilled clasped around his wrist. Glinting in the light, taunting him. Letting anyone who walks past know that his boy is dangerous. A criminal. The freak turned out to be what everyone said he was. No matter what is actually true.

Truth is, Wayne’s not too sure what’s going to come from this all. The chief claims that he’ll fix this. Get the charges dropped and make sure Eddie doesn’t get carted off to jail as soon as he can. But that won’t change the talks of the town. The stares he’ll receive just walking down the street. The way that parents will hide their children behind their legs, and people will walk faster to get away. While he’s just living a normal life. Just being him.

To be fair, Eddie always turned a few heads. He didn’t exactly fit the mold the rest of the town made for people. And even if he did, the scar that’s refusing to fade on his cheek is sure to make people stare. He didn’t deserve it then and he didn’t deserve it now.

Like will never return back to normal. Their home was split in two and falling into pieces. Barely any of their belongings salvageable. Everything Wayne’s worked for to provide, just gone. Things he can never get back.

His hat collection. All his mugs. The box full of Eddie’s old school pictures in the hall closet. Eddie’s music. His guitars. Their life. Gone without explanation.

Thing is, Wayne’s not dumb. He knows that earthquakes don’t just happen like this. Making almost a perfect “X”, meeting at town hall. Not even effecting the towns surrounding Hawkins. Forever marking this town as the haunted hell hole everyone claims it to be.

Things have been going wrong in Hawkins for years now. All the way back to that case of Henry Creel, killing his family the way that he did. Replicated by that girl in his living room. That poor girl, taken way to soon.

Wayne will never forget walking in to her body that morning. Seeing the way a human body can be pushed to the limit. Bent beyond recognition, face morphed into faces only seen in horror movies. Never meant to be real.

But there it was, lying on his living room floor. He phoned the police as fast as he could, stepping out of the house right after. Sitting on the table outside to smoke. Try to wipe the image off his mind. But it was still burned.

That whole week, Wayne was convinced that he would find Eddie that way. Have to bury his nephew without even properly saying goodbye first. Be so scared he couldn’t even look at his face to do so.

The image came to him in dreams. Eddie’s body contorting itself just that like girl’s. Falling limp before him, dead. Over. And over. And over again it played. Didn’t give Wayne a break. It was the hardest week of Wayne’s life.

Until that Wheeler girl found him at the makeshift shelter in the high school Explained to him what happened and he rushed to the hospital. Saw his boy with the incubation tube down his throat. Knowing he might never wake up again. Then it became the hardest time Wayne’s ever had to live through. Where the minutes bleed into hours at an excruciating pace. And the days pass without change. The only signal being the sun’s rise and fall. Only knowing the date when he goes to clock in for his shifts.

The next day is the same as the one before. But better than they have been. Eddie’s face remains unobstructed. Nothing but the clear tube resting under his nose, making sure that there’s enough oxygen in there. But he can breathe on his own. The levels aren’t changing. If anything, they’re improving. His brain activity is starting a slow rise.

It’s good.

Wayne finds it hard to believe at points. Nothing seems to be going well at all. He’s still homeless, breaking his back at work, and here the rest of the time. He needs some good to come back to his life.

Sometime around noon, Dustin comes into the room. Sits next to Wayne without saying anything. Just sits and stares at Eddie. Looking at him.

It’s the most Eddie’s looked like himself all week.

“Shouldn’t you be in school?” Wayne finally speaks.

“My mom let me stay home today. Thought I could use the rest, after everything that happened yesterday.”

Wayne nods, looking at the kid. How the tired made him look years older. The way he holds himself like the world rests on his shoulders. The way the light slowly dimmed each time he sat in the chair next to Wayne. Flipped through the pages of his book with less flourish. Lost the character’s voices as the words continued. Half falling asleep during some of the passages.

“And you’re spending that here instead at home. Getting some sleep.”

Wayne feels the need to look after this kid. Sees the hopelessness as he came in day after day. Nothing changing. Saw the way he broke with the news of his friend. This was almost too much for him. Eddie wouldn’t want him to worry like this. Not about him.

Dustin nods, determination weak in his eyes. “I didn’t get to see him yesterday. I needed to see him. He looks-. He looks better now.”

“He does.”

Wayne takes a deep breath. “You know, your friend made a good point yesterday. If this is too much for you, you don’t have to visit as much as you do. Eddie wouldn’t want you to strain yourself.”

There aren’t many things that Wayne and the Harrington kid would ever agree on, but seeing this kid the way he is right now, there’s one. Dustin needs to stop pushing himself to be here all the time. Not when it’s breaking him slowly each time he walks through those hospital doors.

Wayne can handle this, he’s been around long enough to know how to. Dustin’s just a kid, he doesn’t need this responsibility to take that away from him.

“I don’t care,” Dustin snaps. “I don’t care what he wants. And I don’t care what you want. Especially since you can’t care to say it in your own words. Using his instead. I need-.” He takes a shaky breath. “I need to know that I didn’t watch him die. I need to know that he’ll live.”

A crack just broke through Wayne’s chest. “You were there? You were there when my boy-. You saw what happened to him?”

Before Dustin can even try to respond, Steve storms into the room. “You want to explain to me why your mother just called me in a frenzy having no idea where you were?”

Dustin visibly deflates. “Steve, I can explain.”

“That doesn’t answer my question. You were supposed to take it easy today, take care of yourself. Instead, you run off and make it all the way here by yourself. How, by taking the bus? Riding your bike?”

“I had to see him,” Dustin cries. “I feel like shit knowing that he’s here and I’m out there. Fine and walking and awake. He deserves to be awake.”

The anger in Steve’s face fades, leaving nothing but sadness behind. He’s breaking just as hard as Wayne is for this kid.

“I know he does.” Steve pulls over a chair to get on Dustin’s eye level. “He should be here like the rest of us, and it sucks that he isn’t. And I know you think that this is all your fault, but it’s not. Eddie made a choice, and that choice was to protect you. No matter how much you hate it, it’s true.”

“He didn’t have to do it the way he did. There were other options.”

Wayne can’t even pretend to understand what they’re talking about. It seems so serious that his presence almost feels like an intrusion.

“Not to him. Not to me. If it were me in his place, I would have done the exact same thing.” Steve takes a deep breath. “You can’t keep killing yourself because you think it’s going to make it better. I might not have known Eddie that long, but he cares a lot about you. He would want you to be kind to yourself.”

Wayne’s watching as Dustin’s defenses break. The vulnerable kid is all that’s left. He nods, whispering something that Wayne can’t hear. When they stand, Steve pulls him into a hug, holding him like it’s his own kid. Maybe on some level he is.

“Wait,” Wayne calls out before Steve leaves. “Is that really how he got hurt? Protecting that kid?”

Steve nods, looking straight at Eddie. “What’s worse, he did that to protect me too. That wasn’t his job.”

Steve leaves without saying another word. Leaving Wayne with so many more questions than answers.

next part

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[reitziluz]

i've always enjoyed the way tsubomi is portrayed. she's not really part of the story and we don't know much about her outside of her being the target of mob's feelings and in a way a symbol or symbolic goal for his character arc - but that's the point! the point is that that's a shitty thing in a story and also in real life to do to another person!

she has a very strong feeling of having her own thing going on. she's not the love interest in a shounen series, she's a middle schooler with her own life and troubles. there's kind of a meta level to it too, how we as the audience are not entitled to find out every detail of her life, right? i like how understated her portrayal is while also being consistent with the things that we actually see of her true self are. truly, she's a strong person who knows what she's about.

specifically the conveyor belt of confessions and her justified annoyance at having to deal with the emotions of all these people that have cast her into the role of their love interest is just *chefs kiss* perfect and a mood

[miseria-fortes-viros]

what if your best friend was annoying. what if he took every opportunity he had to make fun of you. what if he kept trying to pick off your scabs even when you pushed him away. what if you caught him looking at your bruises for too long. what if he hated your girlfriend. what if your best friend took you to a magical place and spoke to the forest. what if you recognized his messy handwriting scratched into a boulder. what if he drove you home. and again. and again.

what if he lingered in the driveway too long and watched your father’s fist land. what if in the time it took you to fall and smash your head on the railing he was there. what if it took three cops to pull him off of your father. what if he snarled like a dog and the look in his eyes was wild but he still managed to check if you were okay while they shoved him in the back of the cop car. what if you finally told them the truth about your father to keep your best friend out of jail.

what if your best friend could take things out of his head and make them real. what if he almost never slept because he was afraid of what he would wake up with. what if your best friend went to mass every sunday to apologize to god and he told you the nuns had an apartment they would rent to you for cheap. what if it was cold and cramped and bare but for the first time you slept somewhere without fear. what if your best friend knocked on your door most nights and slept on your floor. what if you thought it was because he knew you kept a gun somewhere and you didn’t want to think about what else it might mean.

what if your best friend started hanging out with someone awful. what if he stayed out all night racing and drinking and doing god knows what with this guy. what if you wanted him dead. what if you had a hand in his death. what if you couldn’t bring yourself to feel bad about it because your best friend was safe sleeping on your floor again. what if your best friend asked you for help. what if he took you back to the church and you could just imagine him in there with his family before it broke. what if he closed his eyes and turned ideas tangible in one of the pews and you thought maybe there were two gods in this church. what if he looked at you like he thought there were three. what if the nightmares got him. what if your best friend bled out on the floor while you held him and panicked. what if you watched him take his last breath. what if you looked up and he was watching you cradle his head from where he sat on the altar. what if the scope of his power hit you just then. what if he told you to leave and you did. what if you let him dispose of his own corpse alone. what if you sat on your bed unable to stop thinking about the blood dripping from his mouth.

what if once you started noticing the curve of his lips and the cut of his cheekbones you couldn’t stop. what if you’d never truly felt safe in your life except when he was with you. what if your best friend was tall and strong and sharp and cruel and he made you smile like nobody else could. what if you were quiet and calculating but he made you loud and reckless. what if he radiated danger but you trusted no one else to walk behind you. what if everyone else kept forgetting which ear your father deafened you in but your best friend always remembered.

what if you went up to his childhood bedroom at the house where his father died and looked at all of his old things. what if you sat on his bed and thought about all the times he must have woken up staring death in the face. what if you looked up and he was standing in the doorway. what if he came over and sat beside you. what if there were bad memories here but also good ones. what if when he finally kissed you he did it slowly and carefully like he knew he was devilishly handsome at best and terrifying at worst. what if his big strong hands held you like he thought you might fall apart and you couldn’t remember the last time someone had touched you so softly. what if he left after that because he knew you would have a lot to think about. what if you went back to him that night and kissed him like you were starving for it. what if the second room you slept in without fear was also the second room your best friend had given you.

what if something demonic invaded your body. what if it used your eyes to spy and your hands to manipulate. what if the most important thing in the world was your autonomy. what if the demon knew it and made you sit helplessly as it stole it from you. what if it let you see just enough. what if your hands closed around your best friend’s throat and there was nothing you could do to stop them. what if you begged him to fight back. what if he just kept looking at you even as his lips turned blue. what if his hands still held you with love even while he was dying in yours.

what if the demon released you. what if you couldn’t stand by yourself. what if your best friend kept you up. what if you fell back against his chest and his arms kept you from falling and he whispered in your good ear something meant only for you and you gave in and began to cry. what if the bruises circled his neck for weeks. what if you could see the shape of your thumbs on his throat and couldn’t bear to look at it. what if you wouldn’t blame him if he never wanted you near him again. what if he kissed your fingers instead.

what if you thought you never wanted love or a home or a family. what if your best friend gave you all three. what if you woke up with his arms around you in the house where his father died and he made you breakfast and you laughed over coffee and his little girl gave you sticks and leaves and his bird gave you bottle caps. what if you wanted to go to college but you didn’t want to leave and he wanted you to go but he wanted you to stay. what if nobody had ever wanted you to stay before. what if you never thought you’d have anything worth coming home to. what if you never thought you’d call anywhere home. what if your best friend gave you an apartment. what if he gave you his home. what if he gave you his heart.

[scintillyyy]

an uncomfortable truth is that if batman and all the batkids were kidnapped and it was up to alfred to save only one while all the others would perish, alfred would push the button to save bruce with no hesitation before the villain was even done talking

and even more uncomfortable truth is that bruce would eventually forgive him this

[dabislittlemouse]

My honest reaction when dabi makes it out alive (for the second time) while everyone said he’s gonna be the first to die

[certifiedcoffeeaddict]

+ og post !

[iguessthisisanewobsession]

Danny regrets every decision he had ever made to lead up to this moment.

“Why the fuck did you bite me?!! Jesus fuck!”

“Oh god it’s seared onto my tongue- why why- when was the last time you bathed?!?”

“Aye fuck you! I didn’t ask for you to bite me in my own house! Why does it fucking BURN?!!??”

Danny gagged as he tried to scrape at his tongue with his nails.

Jason’s head was filling with fog with only the searing pain of his arm seeming to cut through.

The door slammed open as Tim made his entrance.

“Hey Danny everything alright? I heard- what the…”

“I think I’d really rather just drink from the Gotham bay-“

[fisheito]

(3) remaining

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

people practice w Them <3

[ghost-bxrd]

How would Talon!Dick react to someone using magic to pretend to be Jason? Like a shape shifter looking and acting like Jason? 🦉

Violence. Straight up violence.

I reckon Dick would be able to suss out imposters very easily due to the fact that him and Jason still mainly communicate with bird sounds, especially as a form of greetings and reassurance of the other’s presence. And while it might be comparably easy to take someone else’s form, the shapeshifter/magic user would have a much harder time imitating that special kind of language. Or actually I reckon they wouldn’t manage at all.

And Jason is good at bird sounds. Insanely good, to a point where even Dick wouldn’t know the difference between a true talon and Jason if they didn’t have their special call signs.

So even if the imposter knew about the bird sounds, just one wrong or slightly off hoot would be able to tip Dick off that that’s not his owlet.

And that’s enough for him to switch straight to burning fury. Mostly out of the deep seated terror that whatever stole Jason’s face may have hurt him to do so. 🦉

[adhdtsukasa]

prosekai au where everything is absolutely the same except niigo, instead of being a music circle, is a fanfiction writing-ish group. kanade is a writer, mafuyu is her beta reader, ena makes fancomics based on kanade's fanworks and mizuki makes trailers for upcoming fics. and basically that's it. niigo lore but everything revolves around them being wattpad ao3 users

[playertwotails]

So I've been thinking, Sonic and Tails 'fight or flight' instincts switch as they get older.

Let me elaborate.

So growing up Sonic was pure fight instinct when he was younger. Just head first into any fight and he's not backing down for nothing, he's gonna find a way to win that fight no matter what.

But as he gets older he's got Tails to look after and all their other friends that follow him into danger. So now he's more willing to take an L, pull back, regroup and think of a plan in, relative, safety. So he's still not backing down from the over all fight but he develops a flight instinct and does run away when things get too bad in that moment. (basically 'lose the battle when the war' mindset is something he develops over the years aka flight)

Tails meanwhile is the complete opposite. Tails grew up on his own only learning how to run away and hide from those who wanted to hurt him. Then he met Sonic.

Sonic not only helped protect Tails and had his back, but Tails grew up watching Sonic only have a fight instict. And little kids love to imitate anyone older than them and we've seen Tails do this before.

So Tails is just pure fight instict as he gets older, which has Sonic having some regrets™ on how he raised Tails.

Essentially what I'm saying with this whole post is as they get older Sonic is the one that has to hold back Tails from fights.  

[winterlogysblog]

Percy Platoon meeting King

Nasiens: Please behave yourselves in front of him.

Donny: Don't worry we wouldn't dare be rude

Anne: *bows* Lord Fairy King, I must thank you for taking such good care of our friends.

Donny: *bows* Right, we are truly grateful.

Lancelot: *rolls his eyes* You guys are so stiff.

Donny: *whisper yells* Lancelot, Nasiens told us to behave, do you even realize who you're talking to?!

Lancelot: Of course I do. Besides, you guys need to relax a bit. You're acting like he'll smite you at any given time.

Anne: *whisper yells* Hey he just might, now shut up! Here I thought you're the smart one!

Lancelot: Has Nasiens also been like this during his stay here?

King: Well, I did tell him to ignore my title and just relax but it seems like he's quite uncomfortable with the very thought of it.

Lancelot: *sighs* Sorry about that.

King: It's quite alright. Besides, I'm glad that you brought him here.

Lancelot: Right... I didn't expect that I'll be the reason that you get to see him again. Regardless, I'm quite proud that it's me.

King: Thank you Lancelot *pats him on the head*

Lancelot: *smiles*

Anne and Donny:

Nasiens: Yeah... About that... A lot of things happened and I learned a few things about myself.

Donny: And that is...

Nasiens: I'mafairyandthelonglostchildofthefairykingandgiantqueen

Anne: Hold on, could you repeat that. Slowly, this time

Nasiens: I'm a fairy and the long lost child of the fairy king and giant queen

Anne and Donny:

Lancelot: Which makes me your cousin *grins*

Anne, Donny and Nasiens:

[illir]

[kazamajun]

Thinking thoughts today about the contrasting yet similar ways both of them lost whole chunks of their lives