#tw mention of injuries

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

a guilt-stricken caretaker who’s drowned in guilt and shame.

a guilt-stricken caretaker who cannot stop reliving the moment they angrily yelled at whumpee to get out of their sight when whumpee came timidly asking for caretaker to stay with them because they were afraid.

a guilt-stricken caretaker who keeps asking themself why they let a scared and trembling whumpee walk out of their front door that night.

a guilt-stricken caretaker who wishes they could turn back time and undo what they did.

a guilt-stricken caretaker who’s sitting next to whumpee’s bed at the hospital, where whumpee lies unconscious and is intubated. their body’s covered in deep wounds, because after caretaker yelled at them to leave that night, they did, and that’s how whumper got them.

[itsguysnightitsironic]

What 24h in a carnival does to a man, ah?

What do you mean by fucking legs? AND BY BONED? WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY BONED???

B O N E D ???

W H E R E ???!

[wellcome-to-chaos]

Welp time to make the lore post I suppose for Mystery and Aria, tho it's mostly about Mystery with Aria as an occasionally mentioned character

(This is a revamp of the lore from what it originally was when I originally came up with the two)

(I'll possibly add more to this if I can think of anything else, but for now, this is it)

Trigger/content warnings before we start:

Mentions/implications of death, mention of injuries, violence/implied violence, angst, depression

(Let me know if there's any other trigger warnings i need to add)

This all changed when Mystery was 15 and Aria was 10. Mystery was on an outing with zeir parents on a particular day, Aria was left at home due to being sick.

Mystery and Aria, growing up, had about as normal of a life as royal children can have.

Mystery was having fun, doing various things. Then zey heard a sound.

Zey, at some point after that, blacked out. When zey came to, zeir parents were dead.

Around that time, zey gained an amulet. It was purple in color. Zey had no idea where it came from or how zey suddenly had it.

A week or so after that incident, zey were crowned quin(my personal gender neutral term for king/queen) because no one else was qualified to take over at the time.

Shortly after zey ascended to the throne, some "hunters" started going after zem.

One day, when zey were outside of zeir kingdom's borders, in the surrounding forest, zey were taking a nap when the hunters attacked zem. Zey woke up from the pain and felt blood dripping from zeir face.

Zey fought back using the skills zey picked from training as well zeir magic.

Meanwhile, while that was happening, Aria was taking over responsibilities that her older sibling was supposed to be doing.

After Mystery defeated the hunters and returned back to zeir castle it was discovered that the injury zey woke up from, left zem without zeir right eye. Zey had bandages over that eye for many years until recently when it was swapped out for an eyepatch.

Over the years, Mystery eventually figured out about zeir immortality. This, mixed with the grief surrounding zeir parents' death, started to cause zem depression.

Aria has tried her best to help her older sibling out whenever she notices that zeir depression is getting super bad, but there's only so much she can do, especially when Mystery has been hiding so much as to not put that on zeir sister.

At some point, Mystery got a pet snake, which is still unnamed. Later on, when zey were outside the palace grounds, mingling with zeir people, zey came across a grey kitten in a dumpster. Originally, zey named the kitten Zack, but then zey forgot about that and renamed him to Grayson.

One day, when zey were wandering around in the forest surrounding zeir kingdom's borders, zey discovered that the world zey knew was just a pocket dimension. Zey had discovered a barrier that connected to the forest of a few other worlds, but the one zey frequently visited was Twisted Wonderland.

Eventually, zey discovered the entity that resides within zem. It all came to head when zey blacked out one evening and was surrounded by carnage when zey finally came back to zeir senses.

Since that incident, zey learned to somewhat be able to communicate with it and keep it at bay using both zeir own magic and magic from the amulet zey wear.

Every time the entity takes over zeir body, zey feel guilty about any harm it causes to innocent people and people zey care about even tho realistically it's not zeir fault.

When zey first encountered people outside of zeir pocket dimension, zey decided not to disclose zeir royal status because zey want people to like zem for zem, not because of zeir title.

[troubleshade]

Time for a story

Day 2: Observe

feat. Asha TW: mentioned injuries

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Deep breath in, a slow exhale. A quiet inhale and a silent breath out. Asha watches her unconscious brother, relieved that he survived the last mission. It didn’t go well and Coen ended up almost getting his entire shell crushed. 

Still it was weird to see him without his upper shell piece, thick cloths and bandages wrapped around his back and shoulders. In her ears these horrible cracking noises echo. Her hands still shaking slightly, Asha was happy that she didn’t need to go through the whole procedure to save Coen on her own. To her luck Aster took over for the most part, ordering her around what she needs to do. Her mind already went blank as she saw her brother laying unresponsive, the blood slowly seeping down to the ground.

She shakes her head a bit, trying to free herself from these horrid pictures. They couldn’t change the past, what is done is done. They got lucky that Aster swooped in to rescue them out of this dilemma. Or unlucky, because his expression just held so much anger and disappointment for disobeying him and doing that mission anyway despite his forbiddance.

Behind her in the next room she still can hear him and Chiisai arguing loudly, throwing accusations and useless reasoning at each other. Chiisai always gets the blame if something happened to Coen or Asha. 

And of course her sister gets angry at the accusations, letting her anger out on Aster. Fights weren’t something rare in this family, it was a part of life. But lately these arguments between Aster and Chiisai got more frequent and intense. The two have different opinions and viewpoints but neither of them would consider the perception of the other. 

Hearing their argument and slowly creating a rift between them makes Asha’s heart ache. She desperately wants to run in her room and wait out the fight, calming herself down. But she couldn’t just leave Coen on his own. Not in his current condition. To watch him while he heals and slowly regain consciousness again was her duty as the medic. 

So she endures this burden in silence as the storm rages behind her. Tears falling down from her face as she waits. It’ll be over soon, at least the turtle hopes it with all her heart. All she can do now is to observe and wait. 

[indieyuugure]

Episode 3 of Fading Fantasies! Happy ending guys! I promise!

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[indulgentdaydream]

Can you write something where the reader is badly injured in some way and jason rushes her to the manor for help and everybody is confused on who she is bc they didnt even know he was in a relationship (despite them being together for awhile) but they see how soft and cute he is with her. (I’ve never made a request so sorry if it got kinda rambley)

anon you’ve got me TEEMING with ideas I LOVE the trope of nobody knowing jason has a girlfriend and they find out but it is NOT by Jason’s choice nor reader’s.

Also omg? Your first ask is to lil ol me?? That means this is a special occassion. And you’re doing great I’ve def sent worse asks.

Out of the Bag

Jason Todd x Fem!Reader || Hurt and Comfort.

Word Count: 1,862

Warnings: Injuries, swearing, near death experience, blood, knife mention, stabbing, canon-typical violence, use of pet names (princess, baby), drug (pain med) use

You were sat in an alleyway, vision going in and out.

“Tell me something, princess. Anything.” Jason’s voice rang out in your ear.

That’s right. In your right hand, you held your phone, to your ear. Your other hand was pressing the fabric of your coat to the side of your stomach. The blood had soaked through, becoming sticking on your palm and fingers.

You should’ve listened to Jason. You shouldn’t have walked home alone, at night. Luckily your phone had been in your pocket and not your purse, which had been stolen from you by the same guy who decided to stab you.

“Princess,” he sounded panicked.

Right. “Wish I had kicked him harder.”

You heard a sigh of relief leave him, “That’s my girl.”

The phone slipped from your grip a little as your head swam. The sight of blood coming from your own abdomen made no help in quelling your nausea.

You fixed the phone. You had called Jason the second the guy ran off, leaving you to bleed out. He was driving, you think. Tracking your phone to try and get to you. “How far?”

He said something you didn’t hear. Your vision was swimming, your side was aching, and you couldn’t help but keep this funny understanding out of your mind that you were dying.

That this is something Jason had come back to your apartment with a few times, claiming it was nothing. It was something.

You heard him call your name, “What’s around you?”

“I’m tired,” you mumbled.

It seemed to happen in a blink of an eye. Jason was trying to tell you to stay awake, to look at the alley around you. To look out towards the street and tell him what you saw. Then he was there, standing in front of you, his helmet hiding his face.

“I’m here. I’m here, baby.” He cupped your face, tapping your cheek to get you to open up your eyes. He crouched down, pulling your hand from your side to assess the damage.

You smiled lazily and leaned forward, resting your forehead against his shoulder.

Jason muttered a slew of swears as he pressed something soft yet hard against your agonizing wound. You let out a yelp before Jason was picking you up, placing you on his bike.

He’s talking fast, “Fuck. Okay, listen to me. We’re going to go somewhere new, okay? There’s nowhere around here except there for me to get you safe.”

You passed out nearly as soon as he started the bike.

Jason’s freaking. He had tried to keep you safe from anything like this. From everything less than this. And here you were, bleeding out in his arms as he carried you through the batcave. He beelined for the cots and the medical supplies off to the side. He knows his motorcycle couldn’t have been the smoothest of rides for someone in your condition, but it’s all he had in such a short time span.

He’ll apologize when you wake up.

When. He repeats. When she wakes up and when we can get the hell out of this place again and when I can remind her I love her.

No one was back from patrol yet. He set you down on the cot before tearing off his helmet. He tossed it aside, pulling out a med bag and ripping it open. He pushed up your shirt, examining your side and where he had placed the military-grade gauze pad. He curses at the amount of blood.

His hands are shaking. Jason’s hands don’t shake, but you’ve proven to him a lot of things you could make him do that he hadn’t known he was capable of in the last year and (almost) a half of your relationship.

Jason nearly drops the suture thread before another hand is reaching out from just behind him. It catches the thread and Jason looks back over his shoulder. Alfred’s there, moving up to you.

“Allow me. You keep checking her vitals.”

Jason hadn’t even heard him come up. He’s nodding, stepping back to let Alfred take over the stitching. He moves to the other side of the bed.

That’s when he catches sight of the dark figure moving closer from behind Alfred. Jason immediately fixes him with a deadly glare, pointing at Bruce, “Do not come closer!”

Bruce stills. He’s in his bat suit, his cowl hanging behind his head, exposing his face. He looks down to your body, “Who is she?”

Jason doesn’t want him here. Rather, he doesn’t want to be here. You should’ve been home by now. Getting ready for bed and sending him a goodnight text. He turns his gaze back to you.

There’s some hair across your face that he hadn’t noticed. He moves it out of your way without a second thought, “My girlfriend.”

“Finally feel some remorse for sending someone to their grave, Todd?” Damian’s voice spoke up, walking up and stopping beside Bruce, “He’s probably trying to just reverse what he did.”

Jason ignores him. He wants to yell, scream, and maybe shoot the little bastard, but he was right. In a way, this was his fault. He didn’t look after you. He should’ve offered you a ride. Called you a taxi. An uber. Anything.

Jason grips your hand into his. It’s a way to count your heartbeat, and another way to ground himself. To reassure that you’ll be okay. His other hand stays on your cheek. His thumb gently moves back and forth, stroking your skin.

He barely registers Bruce telling Damian to go wash up. When the brat is gone, Bruce speaks up again, “What happened?”

Jason doesn’t take his eyes off of you, “She was walking home from her friend’s. A mugger got her purse, she fought back. He stabbed her.” Jason takes a deep breath, “She still had her phone. She called me. I brought her here because it was closest.”

A beat of silence. Still stitching you up, Alfred speaks, “How come we’ve never been introduced?”

Jason shakes his head, “I didn’t want her near any of this. She’s bad off enough sticking with me.”

Once you stabilize, Jason brings you up to his room in the manor. He walks past Dick, Tim, Duke, Cass, and Steph without looking at them. They sit around the batcomputer, watching Jason gently carry you out ot the cave.

He changes you out of your dirty clothes once he makes a run back to your apartment to grab you some of your own spare clothes.

Asides from that, he doesn’t leave your side.

He lets you have the bed to yourself. He pulls up a chair beside it, waiting for you to wake up. He didn’t want you to be alone when you did, in a strange place after a traumatic event. It was a recipe for disaster.

The sun’s been up for a long while and Jason hasn’t budged. He sits there, your hand gripped in both of his, held up and pressed against his mouth. His lips brush over your knuckles whenever he speaks up. Uttering a “I’m sorry.” every now and then.

There’s a light knock at the door before it’s cracking open. Jason turns his head to find Dick poking his head in. Jason glares at him.

Dick steps further in, presenting the tray he was holding. There were two glasses of water, some solid foods, and lighter ones, probably for you. Jason looked back down at you, letting his older brother enter.

“Just… figured since you’ve been cooped up in here all day,” Dick begins, setting the tray down on the beside table beside Jason.

Dick moves back around. He stands at the end of the bed, leaning against the tall bed post that was meant to hold up a canopy. “I heard…” he trails off, before nodding and your body in the bed, still unconscious, “Who is she?”

Jason looks up at his brother, not letting go of your hand, “So you haven’t heard.”

Dick rolls his eyes, “You know what I mean.”

Jason raises his brows a little. He looks back down at you. His hand reaches out to brush along your forehead, moving away imaginary stray hairs, “My girl.”

Dick nods in understanding, “How long you two been together.”

Jason pauses in thought, “Over a year. Our anniversary was in December.”

A small, choked sound comes from outside the door, in the hallway. “A year?”

Jason looks up at Dick, who makes a face that shows he’s knows he’s been caught.

“Are they seriously listening right now?”

Steph poked her head in first, an apologetic smile on her face, “We wanted to know!”

Duke pokes his head in next, just above Steph’s, “And we wanted to meet her.”

Tim’s head in next, above Duke’s, “You can’t carry a random bleeding woman into the cave and expect the family of detectives to not be curious.”

Cass’ head appears below Steph’s. She nods in agreement.

Jason let’s one hand go of yours to wave his hand through the air, “What the fuck? She’s not even awake!”

“Well that’s why we sent Dick as bait.”

“For the record,” Dick held up a finger, “They built off of my original, innocent idea of bringing you snacks.”

“Jesus Christ,” Jason stands up, taking a few steps forward. He points them all back towards the door as they start to filter into the room, “Get—“

“What’s going on…?”

Jason’s whole body whipped back around at the sound of your groggy, rough voice. The others watch as he’s back at your side in a millisecond, his whole demeanour changed. “Hey, you’re okay. Everything’s okay. Remember how I said we were going somewhere new? You thirsty, baby? Here, I got you some water.”

“Oh, you certainly did not get the water,” Dick piped up.

Jason glared back over his shoulder as he held the glass of water for you, keeping the straw Dick had added placed in your mouth.

You stopped drinking, your eyes now on the other people in the room. You turned your head, propped up against pillows Jason had put there for you. You weakly raised your left hand to wave, “Hi… oh?” your gaze turned down to your hand. A heart monitor clip sitting on your finger grabbed your attention. You gave a confused pout at it, “I feel funny.”

Jason set the water aside again. His glare was gone. He leaned in, kissing your forehead, “You’re hopped up on pain meds. That’s why, princess.”

“Damn,” Steph spoke up, “I wish I got the literal princess treatment.”

Jason turned back around, pointing out the door, “Get. Out. Leave my girlfriend alone until she’s better.”

You looked at the strangers, pointing at Jason with your left hand, “I’m his girlfriend.” Your head tilted back against the pillows as you stared up at Jason, pursing your lips, "I’m tired.”

“I know,” Jason said softly. The others began to filter out of the room as he leaned down and gave you a soft kiss, this time on the lips.

From the exit, a collective, “Awwww,” sounded out.

“Out!”

Your drugged up voice came after his, once they were all back in the hall, “Nice to meet you!”

[frownyalfred]

Do you have any Thomas Wayne headcanons ? <3

has the unique ability to curl up and nap anywhere despite being 6 foot+ (it’s where Bruce gets the ability to sleep in the field from)

played rugby in college

recruited Alfred himself when Alfred, in the employ of another family as a valet, herded Thomas politely away from a car with the employer’s children waiting inside (Martha was pregnant or about to be and Thomas was impressed)

would box with Alfred on slow nights, yes shirtless (Martha pretended not to watch but she’d peek)

Bruce slept more in his arms than the crib or anywhere else for his first few weeks of life

brilliant but spacey at times. Martha gave up trying to help/remind him so sometimes he’d show up to fundraisers/galas/events sans tie, socks, etc

hated being in those social circles and considered his medical peers and the staff at WE (Lucius Fox, etc) as his real social circle

the definition of quiet wealth, if you saw him on the street you wouldn’t guess he was so extravagantly wealthy

worked the ER for a long time, and saw the worst of Gotham (via its victims) which led to increased donations and the establishment of several additional charities

met Martha on a beer crawl and was entranced when she turned him down 3-4 times before finally agreeing to date him

was a bit of a womanizer before he got married, but after he met Martha his eyes never strayed, not even once

if Martha kicked him out of bed he would whine and sleep at the foot of the bed on the floor instead of literally any of the 24 bedrooms in the Manor or like, the couch

defended his choice to marry Martha to both his family and hers (no one liked the match)

it took him longer to die in that alley than people realized. Alfred, when reading the autopsy report, believed it was due to his need to ensure Bruce was safe. Martha died nearly instantly.

[lesiasmadness]

Consider: chaos emerald assisted necromancy

No context for this one, just having fun with an edgy idea

Here's some more:

Bonus:

[kyuhudraws]

Strong bird prince!

[incorrect-stardew-quotes]

Sam: I broke my leg yesterday

Farmer: Why does that make you smile?

Abigail, already picking out coloured pens with Sebastian: Means we get to spend the afternoon drawing on his cast.

Sam, grinning with his injured leg up: Worship me!

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

whumpee who has escaped from whumper on their own after months of captivity and torment, their body a tapestry of scars and poorly re-set broken bones, all hidden under their clothing. They reunite with caretaker and tell them that they're alright, just a little worse for wear, they don't need to see a doctor, they aren't hurt.

whumpee desperately doesn't want caretaker to find out how badly they were treated, how much of their body is now marked with permanent reminders of whumper's torture. they only ever wear concealing clothing, even during the hottest heatwaves, constantly terrified that something will slip and caretaker will find out about everything they went through. All they want is to be treated normally so they can try and forget, and they won't get to have that if anyone finds out.

bonus points if whumpee and caretaker are romantically involved and whumpee knows it's only a matter of time before caretaker wants to be intimate again, not realising what's hidden underneath whumpee's clothing.

i know there's more to this idea but my brain is a soup right now and i'm hoping you can coax more out

oooh this is genius!

it would indeed be a lot more difficult for whumpee if they and caretaker were lovers, because then whumpee would have to come up with reasons (excuses) as to why they were not in the mood to be intimate with caretaker. but the thing is that whumpee couldn't just tell caretaker "not tonight" forever.

I am in no way saying caretaker would ever push whumpee, but at some point this would grow into an issue between them, because caretaker could begin to think that whumpee didn't love them anymore or that whumpee had someone else. which could lead to a fight and that fight could either lead into a.) whumpee breaking down and revealing to caretaker their scars, or b.) whumpee and caretaker going their separate ways even if they never stopped loving each other.

or even if they weren't lovers, having to always hide all these scars from their friends still had to be a lot for anybody. sooner or later, it'd reach that breaking point where it's either a.) someone found out or b.) whumpee broke down eventually.

[incorrectbatfam]

Alfred: Miss Stephanie, what’s all over your arms?

Stephanie: Oh, my bruises? I can explain all of those.

Stephanie, pointing: Sparring practice, fight with a hammock, slept on an Oreo.

[domina-honoribila]

My daughter cut her finger really badly and we're in the ER, please keep her in your prayers. She may have severed a tendon.

Her name is Maria.

Update: she needs surgery on Friday to repair the tendon. She's only 4.

Update Two: she will not need surgery! They think it will heal on its own. Thanks for the prayers!

[starry-bi-sky]

my body's aching like a knock-down drag-out

and my poor heart is an open wound A Childhood Friends Au snippet that very briefly delves into Danny's life post-accident. CW: Mild Mentions of Blood, Violence, VERY mild gore ig. Danny briefly recalls getting impaled during a fight.

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

What they don't tell you about being dead is that it hurts. That it can hurt. That it can hurt more than when you were alive. That when you die, the emotions you die with stick with you like a leech that just won't let go. That emotions are ugly little thorns that stick their barbs into you and grow beneath your skin; or, at least, whatever’s left of it. 

Danny is familiar with anger. It kept him warm in Gotham, when his parents weren't home from work and he and Jason were crowding Crime Alley with their presence. It kept him warm in Amity, when the fresh sting of moving was still needling into his heart and he wanted nothing more than to rip and tear into the closest person next to him.

He's familiar with violence. With fights. With death. He's seen people die in Crime Alley probably every day. From overdose, from gunshots, from stab wounds; anything that can kill, rest assured he's seen it. He's familiar with getting his own knuckles rough and bloody when other kids turn and bare their teeth at him and Jason; they're all just starving dogs stuck in a fighting pit, primed and ready to rip out each other's throats. 

Black eyes, stomped hands, bloody noses. You name it; he’s had it. Gotham is paved with the blood of her children, and Danny likes to imagine that when he was born, the doctors handed his mother a file and told her; “Take it. He’s going to need it for his teeth.” 

Danny’s mom (and dad, for that matter) was too busy trying to keep him and Jazz fed, so Danny stole the file from her drawer with Jazz’s help, and did it himself.  

He’s familiar with anger, he thought he was getting better at it these days. It doesn’t come to him as easily as it did before. Of course, that was before Jason died. 

Danny is less familiar with grief. Caring kills and Gotham kills the caring, so Danny cares very little about other people. Or he tries to. But grief hurts. His grief hurts. It hurts too much. It hurts like a bug trying to crawl out of his chest; like a rat chewing a hole through his heart. Some days he wants to dig his hands into his hair and split himself down the middle. Some days he just wants to scream. 

He’s dead. He’s dead. He’s dead. 

He wants the whole city to hear him wailing, some days. It sticks itself in the back of his throat like bile, and Danny is one wrong retch away from letting it loose. It sticks in his lungs like all the tar he’s smoked in since he was nine. It pushes and aches at his temples, in his head, like his brain is trying to swell out of his skull. His thoughts becoming so loud they threaten to commandeer his tongue.  

He has no mouth, but he must scream. 

Something they don’t tell you about being dead is that it hurts. That it hurts more than when you were alive. Something they don’t tell you about being dead is that it’s violent. That it’s bloody. Or as bloody as it can be when everyone has no blood. 

Another thing they don’t tell you about being dead, is that it’s a lot like Gotham that way.

With no threat of death, Danny’s enemies forget death itself. Blood comes easy, like water, and teeth are encouraged. Bring your own fangs to the fight. Dying is something you can just walk off. 

Danny’s been dead for three months. He can’t say he’s been walking it off easy. He’s perfected the art of turning his nails into claws since his heart was still beating, but he can’t say he’s perfected fighting other ghosts. 

Scrappy is just not enough. 

He feels like he’s back in Gotham again. Back in her death-shroud alleyways, fighting someone bigger than him. But there’s no Jason to watch his back, and Danny has to get himself out of there alone. Or he might just not get up at all. 

Black eyes, busted lips. It’s familiar to him like an old scent, Danny isn’t quite sure that he’s missed it. It’s more familiar than his fights with Dash. 

But there’s no one else who can do it but him. Not Sam, not Tucker. He can’t lose them too. He can’t. He can’t. He can’t. His heart can’t take another break, he already feels like he’s going insane. 

With no threat of death, Danny’s enemies fight like death themself. He learns why when Technus puts a street sign through his stomach one day. It pins him to the asphalt like a moth pinned by its wings. 

Danny claws at the metal like how an animal caught in a trap chews off its leg, and every move is blinding pain. He thinks he was howling, but it’s hard to tell. He couldn’t recognize the sound of his voice. 

He bleeds green. It mixes in black with the pitch blackhole in his heart, which throbs and twists and cries in time with his reckless panic. The finger-choking terror of dying again strangles out the air he doesn’t need. His blood evaporates, only to reabsorb into him. It just bleeds out again, cycling like a snake eating its own tail. 

Danny breaks his nails clawing at the metal, and eventually gets it in his mind to pull it out. So he does, and the end drips ectoplasm green as he gets to his feet. In red-vision, Danny sends the sign back with snarling, vicious fervor. The pain is irrelevant in his rage.

Only after the fight does the hole the pole left start to close. Danny doesn’t shift human until it’s gone. Unlike other injuries, a scar stays behind. Ugly; mottled, it aches for a week with every twist and stretch his body makes. He hates it. 

Being dead is agony. 

Every part of him is in pain. Every step, every word he speaks, everything he does, it is prerequisite with pain. The body is temporary, but the soul is forever, and death has carved into it with its freezing green hands and left him with never-ending heartache. It has torn from him and stolen what of him it could, and in return it’s left him with sorrow. 

His pain is his grief, and he’s sobbed in the safety of his room more times than he can count. It’s still as fresh as the day he heard the news of Jason’s death. He knows, instinctively, that it will stay fresh forever. 

In his room, Danny shoves his hands over his mouth and shrieks in whatever, muffled way he can into his pillow. It’s not enough. It’s never enough. He needs to be louder. He needs to be heard. He refuses to be. 

Being dead hurts. 

[indieyuugure]

Episode 4 of Fading Fantasies! In case you were wondering, Splinter actually ended up doing about 3/4 of the actual stitches on Leo’s back since Donnie had to ensure Leo didn’t die of exsanguination.

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[aphidclan-clangen]

part 2 out of 3