#tw some triggering stuff

[panics-side-blog]

New cycle

Part:1 (??)

Small edit: decide to update the story once a month about mid-end of the month to be exact. Maybe i will sprinkle 2 chapters per month as a treat if i feel like it :)

I really really tried to not do a fanfic because I'm terrible at finishing shit i started. But damn bro i want some slow burn-ish comfort-ish fanfic where reader is autistic coded and them pulling a bad bitch (Soundwave and maybe shockwave) by being autistic.

Bc like, there are no fics i found who have an autistic coded reader?? And that's a fucking crime. Especially when their with the king of autism,Soundwave, who clearly got some sort of Cybertronian Version of it. /hj

This story is probably going to be darker. Dealing with mental health issues and unhealthy obsession(??). Maybe gonna have some smut later on but idk

I will try to not make the reader x Soundwave Stockholm syndrome-y because i want a happy consensual relationship. I still try to figure out how i will make it from here to there but, eh we will see, i have a plan just don't know how to execute it right.

I procrastinate a lot so i don't even know how far I will go. No promises!

Also like i am really insecure about my writing because i know i tend to write sloppy sentences that derail a lot but i hope you all still can enjoy it :))

reader is gender neutral ❤️ (and human)

Tw for this chapter: clear signs of mental health issues, trauma flashback, mention of puke and eating disorder (not related) Panic attack/ autistic meltdown and blacking out.

Also English is not my first language so please keep it in mind. Thank you :))

Today was the day you told yourself, "Today I will go outside," you said, yet you have been standing in front of the door of the hallway for almost two hours. Your shoes and socks feel like they have creeped into your skin, the t-shirt you wore feels itchy and heavy, and your hair that slipped into your collar makes you almost lose your mind.

The sun that shone inside your dark room was slowly going down, a slight red and pink already weaving itself into the sky. But there were still a lot of people outside; you could hear them talking even though your windows were sealed shut.

Everything around you appears to be too much: the way you can hear your own pulse in your ears; the way your bones feel inside your gross, soft, meaty body;the lingering smell of the food you cooked two days ago; and your eyes strained from the light.

You felt like crying. Yet again, you didn't go outside. Yet again, your fear  whatever imaginary threat might be waiting for you in the overstimulation of the outer world. It was just too much for you, to the point that the thought alone almost made you have a meltdown.

But you promised yourself to go outside, at least to the ice cream shop a few blocks away. You heard the ice cream they had was really good, so you wanted to take a look. It's not that far away, you think to yourself, about a 15-minute walk. But these few minutes were still too much. Hell, that you even stood in front of the hallway door was a miracle all by itself. Hot tears begin to form and roll down your cheeks. How long have you been isolating yourself now? Almost a whole year, a whole year with barely any human interaction, a whole year you almost slept through, a whole year of nothing. Just your white fall and the music coming from your headphones. Your body, with its physical needs, feels at this point more like a burden than anything else.

It's not the first time this has happened, and it makes you feel like shit. You are wasting your life in your home, which has become more of a prison, but this prison is the only thing that feels somewhat safe. A place that makes you feel in control, where nothing changes without your permission. It's the only thing that gives you a tiny bit of comfort.

" It's alright, you're doing great! Don't be so hard on yourself! "

The voice of a past friend echoed inside your brain. But even those motivating words of affirmation they always spoke out didn't help you. You still feel like a failure. You don't have a job; you live off of your guardian's money and have lost all contact with the few friends you have. You didn't finish high school due to massive stress and mental health issues. Hell, you didn't even manage to make friends after losing your older one, or even talk to your neighbor next door once. They probably think you died here. It doesn't help that you leave the dirty dishes to soak for weeks because you don't have enough energy to clean them up. So it sometimes smells like a rat died in there.

What you would rather do is sleep some more. At least your dreams give you a beautiful world full of adventures where everything is right and you do not need to fear anything. where everything is perfect and you don't have to worry about a thing. Living in a small cottage somewhere far away but still close enough to your imaginary friends. With a pretty garden and colorful birds greeting you every morning, while big,strong,warm arms are wrapped protectively around you by your dream lover. But every time you wake up, you get an ugly reminder of how grey and full of disappointment your life is.

Another hour has passed, and the ice cream shop is most likely closed now. Only the small market that is a bit further away should still be open. They too got some good snacks, but honestly, even food can't motivate you anymore. You're so aware of how it feels on your tongue and slides down your throat that just thinking about it makes you gag. The presence of it already makes you feel ill and icky. You wish you didn't have to drink or eat, but you know it's not good.

Oh, you know so much, yet you do the exact opposite of what said knowledge actually tells you.

The sun has almost vanished at this point. Most people are inside, the street lights are on, and only the sounds of the few leaves that are still on the trees can be heard. You would go out now if you weren't terribly scared of the dark. But as your brain made you imagine how the cool winter night would taste on the tip of your tongue, you couldn't resist anymore. Especially with the way the snow makes this funny, crisp noise. Your hand takes the door handle and slowly moves it down. You take your first step and the cool air already strikes your face with such an intensity you haven't felt in ages.

It made you remember those days when you were a child and you ran around for hours making snow angels.

The steps under your feet made a satisfying crunching noise, and you had to control yourself to not flap your hands around in excitement. Carefully, you close the door and lock it. You look up as you walk further down the street, not having a destination, or rather forgetting it, the gorgeous night sky making you forget your worries. How clear it was and how bright the stars shone. And not a person around to ruin this moment. The sudden feeling of long-lost childhood memories crashing into your brain caused you to make tiny bunny hops, excitedly giggling.

A flashback at this moment in time was one of the last things you wanted right now, but yet, you zoned out.

Memories flooded your mind; some were pleasant, but others quickly turned bitter as they became contaminated with other things. Everything around you is barely existent anymore. You only have in front of your eyes how you cried out as a small child, freezing, calling out for your parents but nobody answering. Sniffling, rubbing your tiny red hands together in hopes of getting warm; clothes way too thin and soaking wet because you walked over some ice that couldn't hold your weight.

You were so deep in thought you didn't hear how an aircraft came dangerously close to you or how the rumbling of a semi truck came speeding towards your frozen form.

You got ripped out of your thoughts, which also happened to your body, as something grabbed you from the sidewalk. Everything happened so fast. Your brain  trying to process whatever just happened, coming back from whatever deep dark depths it stayed in.

Your vision is too blurry due to tears that formed without your realization.

You only hear loud screeching and rumbling from an engine. A deep voice that made your very core shake called out, but you couldn't make out what it said. Your wide eyes looked up to see what was holding you.

The tears were rubbed away by the sleeves to make it clearer. You couldn't believe what you saw; a man made out of metal who had a few body parts that reminded you of a heavy and big truck. And close to them was another humanoid machine with wings. It all looked like a bad action movie.

The loud crashing noises of metal trashing against each other hurt your brain; their echo lingers way too long for comfort. How do the people from your small town not get alerted by all the noise?

You heard another strange noise near by, and then a blue, much smaller mech joined in. They jump up high, kicking whatever live form that was in front of you on the head, knocking it down. It tried to stand back up, but the blue machine gave it a brutal beat down, scratching its purple paint clean off of its chest.

But the sudden fight stopped without warning.

The bigger one who held you is running away and making this strange noise you heard earlier. Everything around you began to shake, and you blacked out for a second. You wish you could remember exactly what happened, but the way you hit metal with your head was too strong. The holes filling your memory spread like a plague, and the longer you try to think about it, the more it vanishes, like some type of maggot devouring it like it's their last meal.

But you soon come fully into your senses. As you realized your surroundings didn't look familiar, you panicked, opening your mouth trying to scream, but nothing came out.

"Ti--ou-t,"

A voice called out, but your ears were still ringing loudly due to the collision earlier.

"What?" you whisper back to whatever voice was trying to free you from your fearful frenzy. As you move nervously around trying to open the door,

"Tiny-uman-ou-ar-ight,"

You look at the steering wheel in confusion. What is happening? This can't be real! Where does the voice come from? Oh, please let this be a bad dream! I knew I should've stayed inside!! The thought of just taking this magically moving steering wheel came to mind as the pulling on the door became more intense. But, you can't drive, so your cramped up fingers didn't even dare to touch it.

"Are you okay, tiny human?"

The voice, finally now clear, was deep and smooth, like thick honey. It would have been comforting in any other scenario.

You want to ask who is there and what they are, but your body fails you. After an awkward silence, the voice spoke again.

"You are probably very confused and scared. My apologies to humans. My name is Optimus Prime, and we "

"Optimus? I-,,, are-,,,is-? truck?"

You clumsily said,

"Indeed, as I wanted to explain, we saved you from an attack by the Desepticons. My partner Arcee is still fighting off their Vehicon in order for us to escape safely. "

You just looked in disbelief at the speaking machine. At least, that's what you believe based on Optimus' reaction.

"I'm deeply sorry for this situation, but I can assure you that you are safe now and have nothing to fear. Me and my team will take you under our protection. "

" Can I-can I go home then? I'm sure whatever attacked is surely gone, right? "

You say, with a nervous smile, sweat building up on your forehead, your body all of a sudden feeling very hot.

" For whatever reason yet to be explained, the Desepticons found out where you live, and for whatever reason yet to be explained, they are fixated on you. That's why they tried to kidnap you."

"Kidnap!! No, this can't be happening. Surely you're just joking. Surely this is all just a terrific nightmare! "

You feel as if your heart has sunk to the bottom of the earth. Breathing has become more erratic.

" I'm sorry, tiny human, but it isn't. In order to insure your safety, you have to stay with us until we find another safe hideout for you. "

You just stayed silent and leaned back into the seat, still not believing what had just occurred. You looked outside; nothing but rocks and hills, going further and further away from your home. It's dark and the big sky now feels not as pretty and comforting as before. The wide and empty steppe made you feel tiny and vulnerable.

Bright lights appeared from your side of the window. A blue bike without a driver soon joined in.

"Are they all right, Optimus?"

They asked, their voices soft yet stern and serious.

"Yes, but they seem to be under shock. I already did an intercom with Ratchet to check their vitals".

You sobbed quietly, not wanting them to hear you. Hands flexing and soon balling into fists hit your thighs gently, desperately trying to regulate your emotions. But you can feel how a panic attack and meltdown crawl up your rips, holding your heart with its disgustingly cold, frost-bitten giving hands. It is clawing at it like some sort of toy that it wants to break. And soon, this toy popped.

Your head is spinning, your breathing has no rhythm, and the bit of food you had is coming back up with some stomach acid. No, this is something you can't get out of. The more gentle-ish hitting became violent. Your body begins to sway back and forth. You started to claw at your jacket, trying to rip it away from your body. Everything feels way too hot and sticky. Your nails are digging into your skin, giving it an ugly red line. Tears and snot form. Puke spills little by little from your lips as the erratic movements become violent.

Until your brain couldn't handle it anymore and pulled the plug. Your body thumped itself one more time against the leather seat. Your hands were hitting your head and clawing at your hair for the last time, until everything went black.

You hate the feeling of falling unconscious; it's weirdly light, like when you sit on an airplane and it starts to fly off, just instead of it flying straight up, it goes in circles.

You desperately want to wake up in your cozy bed, with your headphones next to you, playing your comfort playlist to help you fall asleep. But it won't. Something inside of you knows that nothing will be the same. A part of you is happy that this disfigured devil cycle has been broken; another is very, very scared. You are uncertain about your wellbeing and do not know what will come next for you.

And having to hide from whatever those things are, those ginormous, sentient metal beings who, for whatever reason, have it out for you?

What did you even do that peaked their interest? Did you make them angry? You'd hoped not.

[calmingthoughtsinyourhead]

Reading this fic and okay yeah headcanon accepted

[aly-the-writer]

...oh.

Just hit the part where Gale talks about how clean his tower is now again and it hit different. How he laughs it off but...like....cleaning, getting rid of stuff.

It's just a throw away line, but this guy collects bits and trinkets and books like no-tomorrow (just look at his camp spot!) and he's delighted by those things and, well, he's not exactly the master of organization over there. Him not having things - well, it's not about the things he's giving up - it's about the fact that he'd given up so why on earth would things matter? Even if they had been special or important to him once.

Gale is a depressed, burned out GT kid who got screwed over by the system (and person in this case because the person is the system and the system is the person) who originally told him he was special and has completely and utterly had his sense of self-worth nuked (hah) by a mistake that he really wasn't in a position to be able to avoid given all of the above circumstances because what other path could he have possibly taken and not been a failure for not trying anyways?

He is desperately trying to keep his burn out from hurting or disappointing any more people and he thought that isolation is the only way to really do that.

And his sole lifeline to any semblance of actual sanity seems to be his cat.

UGH....I AM GALE. GALE IS ME. FUCK. No fucking wonder I want to cry when my Tav tells Gale he's worthy exactly as he is and again when our wizard wonder starts believing it.

[oddball08]

Metal Chairs and Glass Windows | Konig

A mission gone wrong. That's what he would call it later when they were both found. They wouldn’t say a word to anyone about it. Some things can't be erased, no matter what you do. This is extremely violent and disgusting and full of angst. I mean there is some truly disgusting torture in this. I recommend that viewers are +18. If you are triggered easily, please leave. Ultimately, I can't control your actions but know that I've warned you and cannot be held accountable if you choose to read this.

WARNING R@pe, murder, torture, Su!cide, just some really triggering stuff WARNING

Dimly lit damp hallways seemingly stretched on forever as two bodies were dragged from a heavily secured truck and into the building, descending steps covered in mold and mildew. Neither responded as their gear dragged and scraped across the floor, weapons slowly being discarded and thrown on the ground for someone to later pick up. 

A mission gone wrong. That's what he would call it later when they were found. They wouldn’t say a word to anyone about it. 

König slowly woke up after an unknown amount of time, eyes adjusting to the darkness as he stayed still, knowing he was in danger due to the new settings and cuffs tied tightly around his wrists and ankles– in a different circumstance he would deem this kinky and laugh it off– but this time was different. 

He could feel the presence in the room with him, ominously waiting for him to make a move, knowing that the deadly man was currently defenseless. König knew a few things were very wrong, first off being that this was supposed to be an easy in-and-out mission, just to make sure that a camp they had already taken down was empty. It seemed as though it was in fact not empty; second being he had no idea where they were. His partner, his friend, his longtime comrade who was so close to being discharged. Just two more weeks. They weren’t even supposed to be going on this mission, but agreed on the terms that it would be the last mission they did with him. 

Everything suddenly got so messed up, they were doing fine, walking along the dirt path, almost finished with their round when König’s partner had screamed at them to get down as bullets flew, everything went black, then he was in a chair. 

Anxiety coursed through König, tensing his muscles as he tried to keep his body slack and breathing even. He had years of military training backing him up, so did his partner, they would be okay. He had to hope that they were okay. 

"Welcome back,” The presence circled around König until he was in front of him, revealing a tall man head to toe in black, weapons strapped to him, many more in places he couldn’t see König knew. “I’m glad to see you woke up. I thought for a while my guys had messed up and gave you the wrong dosage.” He smiled at the words, and it made something disgusting curl up into König’s stomach, curling around his lungs and squeezing them just tight enough for him to know it was a looming panic attack.

“Where am I?” König’s nostrils flared as he looked up, finally meeting the eyes of his capture; heart clenching more at the sight of the mask they usually wear laying on his face, the bottom half broken, and blood smeared across the rough cracks. “Where are they.”

“You don’t really think I’m going to tell you that do you? Although, I will say that your little friend is in the room across the hall. You’ll be joining them soon, don't you worry. ” The words didn’t feel reassuring.

“I brought you here for a very specific reason, mostly because I’m a petty bitch, but also because your organization fucked up my entire plan. Millions would be gone; I would have won . Instead, your team had to come and fuck everything up. Kill us, steal from us. We plan to take it back tenfold.”

He pauses as a loud bang is heard, echoing through the room as the light flickers a few times. When the man looks back at König, his smile is more tense than it was before, and König feels a brief flicker of hope before the screaming starts.

He knows those screams; he had heard those screams only two times before. Once when his partner had been holding the new recruit, dead in their arms, only eighteen. And the second when they had been shot in the shoulder, shattering their shoulder blade.

König’s blood runs cold, adrenaline rushing through his veins as a thin veil of sweat covers his skin, making the fabric of his mask stuffy. 

“It seems my comrade decided to start without me. Pity really.” The man goes behind König once more, scraping something metal against the cement floor and raises it above his head. “Night night.” 

König awakes once more with a start, blistering pain pounding in his head as a migraine begins to form. “Welcome back sleeping beauty.” The man's voice is cheerful, and he now has a bottle of beer in his hand as he relaxes back against the chair he’s sitting in. “Woke up right in time for the show.” He grins maliciously and points his beer forwards to gesture for König to look over at the glass window they were sitting in front of.

König’s breath caught and the pain in his chest came back at the sight of his partner sitting naked on the metal chair, legs spread as liquid slowly dripped down their somewhat murky legs and the twisted legs of the chair.

Their face was knocked back as they laid unconscious, blood slowly oozing out of their calf half, mixing with the milky substance and pooling around the metal of the cuffs on their ankles and down onto the cement floor.

König felt like vomiting, disgusted at the sight. Who would do this to someone? Had they been awake for it all? 

Another man stepped into the room, grinning over at the glass as he made a circle with his hands, rutting his hips forward towards the glass to indicate what he was about it do. 

“No!” König yelled, louder than he’s ever remembered yelling as he began fighting against the cuffs on the chair, just noticing the rope tied around his waist, securing him from moving too much.

“Scream as loud as you want,” The man sitting next to him said, having waited until König had stopped his screaming to speak, lifting the beer to take a swig of it. “They can’t hear ya’.”

König really thought he was going to vomit this time as the man in the room unbuckled his jeans, letting them fall to the ground before he turned the chair sideways; giving the two men outside of the room the perfect side profile of the events that were about to occur. The man slapped his partner's cheek a few times before shrugging and simply shoving two fingers inside their mouth, swirling it around before holding it open and shoving his cock in, groaning at the feeling as he knocked his head back. 

He wasted no time in quickly thrusting, chasing his own high, not caring whether or not they woke up to find their mouth being molested. It’s a few more minutes of König painfully watching as his partner is degraded, completely unaware of it all as they’re dead to the world, chair creaking as the man speeds up before gripping onto his partner's hair tightly, tugging as he stops his hips. He pulls out, looking down at them with a sneer before spitting in their mouth, shoving their head down as much as it would allow to let the cum and spit drop out, preventing them from choking. 

The man pulls up his pants before turning to the window, giving a mocking bow, “Left ‘em alive, as you asked, Sir.” The statement is more condescending than anything as he exits the room, leaving behind König’s partner, head lulled forward as liquid drips down their chin and onto their bare chest. 

“Wasn’t that a good show?” The man sitting next to König slaps his hand onto his knee, giving a cheer for the disgusting events that just occurred.

“You’re sick ,” König growls, fists clenching so hard against the chair he was in that he could feel his short fingernails begin to break.

“Ah uh,” The man puts a finger up and tsk’s, “Not sick, purely angry. Revenge is rather sweet, wouldn't you say?” 

“I don’t sugar.” König counters, and the man simply smiles gleefully at the remark.

“And I have a sweet tooth, crazy that. Now watch the rest of the show.” 

Another man enters this time, different from the last. He smiles up at the window, giving a salute. He turns around and pulls out a rolling table with needles on it and sends a quick smile towards the mirror once more before putting on silicone medical gloves. He grabs a syringe, tapping it a few times before placing it onto König’s partner's arm, distributing it quickly before grabbing another one. 

“Flumazenil and Naloxone,” The man next to König confirms, “Man's best friend let me tell ya’.”

The man takes off his gloves and puts the table back into the corner of the room where he had grabbed it from and left the room. Leaving a tense silence, anguish resting in the air as the seconds ticked by. 

Eventually, König could see their body twitch on the other side of the window, then slowly their head lifted up to reveal tear filled eyes. “Fuck.” The swore, spitting onto the ground before knocking their head back against the back of the metal chair, seemingly not caring about the loud bang emanating from it. 

Their chest began to heave as a woman entered the room this time, a mask covering the bottom half of her face. She stood tall and regal, afro pulled up into perfection, making her look innocent if it weren’t for the knife she held in her hand. 

“Ello las,” She greeted in a low Scottish drawl, smiling as she made her way over to her target. “‘Ow ‘ave the boys been treatin’ ya’?” She looked down at their still open legs and tsk’ed, slowly circling them with the dull side of the knife to their neck. König could see the anxiety in their eyes as they tried to breath as shallowly as possible, knowing it was the dull side of the knife but still not wanting to be cut by the woman in front of them.

A small trail of blood begins trailing down their collarbone as the woman cuts, before sliding back to look at her work. “Real beauty, shame to see it go ta’ waste. Might just carve ma’ name into ya’. You’d like that, yeah?” 

König clenches his teeth at the sound of their whispers, desperate pleas to please stop leaving their mouth like a prayer. The woman smiles at this and cups their cheek, wiping away the tears that were now openly falling down their cheeks. 

“Don’t cry love, only gonna hurt a lil’.” She smiles a twisted smile before getting on her knees, going in between their legs to scoot as close to them as possible, making a quick Knick at the bottom of their chest, center of the ribcage, and one at the lower stomach, right above the faint happy trail. 

König sees them hiss out at the feeling before they open their mouth in a silent scream as her knife cuts, about a centimeter if König had to guess, a long line drawn out diagonally, “K,” She holds the letter as she continues to drag the other two lines across before pulling back slightly and laughing at the sight. 

She continues on slowly, singing each letter she carves until a full name is spelled. Seven letters in total, over twenty minutes of excruciating pain before the woman pulls back, standing back onto her heels. Kendall.

“Beautiful.” She drags a finger across their stomach, digging a nail in a little before bringing it up to the light, looking pleased at the blood coating her finger. “Aye boss? Mind if I do somethin’ real quick?” 

“Sure,” The man sitting next to König nods, and the woman smiles, rocking onto her heels, “Just don’t kill them.” 

She shrugs, a playful smile on her face. “It probably won’t. ‘Least not for a while.” 

König’s partner has gone back to sobbing, eyes squeezed shut as their legs shake, whimpers leaving their mouth every few seconds as the knife slowly trails up their legs. 

They don’t have any idea what’s going on, so far gone at this point to comprehend anything behind the pain, but they know it's bad. 

The woman plunges the small knife up the hole between the crevice of their thighs, her manic laughing mixing with their screams of anguish, voice breaking as they squeeze their eyes shut and nod their head back and forth, legs violently shaking. 

König squeezes his eyes shut, wishing he could block the noise out as he turns his head to the side, not willing to see his partner in such pain. The man sitting next to him grips his chin roughly, jerking it back so Konig is face right towards the window. “Open your eyes now or I order her to kill them.” The man whispers into König’s ear, making the male's eyes fly open. 

Years of military training couldn’t prepare him for the pain of seeing this, his mental walls tumbling down as the first tear broke the dam for the rest to fall down, not making a sound as his partner continued to scream, screaming at the woman in front of then to stop, begging for mercy. 

She stands, ripping the knife out of their hole and placing a quick, mocking kiss to their cheek before skipping out of the room, appearing at the doorway next to the room König and the man were currently sitting in, a smile still plastered on her face. “So, he’s the lucky one, aye?” 

“Indeed.” The man next to him nods, standing from his spot with a groan, stretching his hands above his head. “Seems to have messed him up. Hasn’t talked shit in a good hour or so.” He jerked his head over to where König sat staring blankly at his partner, who was currently still sobbing, whole body shaking, thankfully their crying was beginning to quiet. 

“Imma go in with her next, watch him, ‘kay?” The man doesn’t wait for a response as he grabs the gun from the table next to where König sat. König hadn’t even noticed that was there, to preoccupied with watching his partner endure the endless torture that they had not been prepared for in training. 

The woman glanced over König, scanning his form before taking a few quick strides over to him and plopping herself onto his lap. “That was one, innit?” She places her head on König’s shoulder, ripping the mask off his face. König feels bare without it, the thought of someone seeing him without it on would normally send his nerves through the roof, but all he could do at the moment was blankly stare at where is partner now sat silently in the chair, chest rising shallowly their head dropped down to their chest.

“Ya’ a pretty one, aren’t ya’?” She runs a finger down his cheek, “Wonder what I could do with ya’ before ‘e finishes with ‘er.” König closes his eyes as he sees the man who had been sitting next to him for hours enter the room, malice in his eyes with a cheerful look on his face.

“How are you faring?” The man asks, using the gun to tilt their head up. “This is what you get for stealing.” 

“I didn’t take anything.” They whimper, “I’m not a thief.” 

The man's face curls up in disgust as he raises the gun, shooting their shoulder with no hesitation. The same shoulder König remembers them screaming about before. 

They don’t scream this time.

An unknown amount of time later, König sat slack against the chair, eyes blinking slowly as the woman giggled maniacally on his lap, his pants pulled back to his knees as he stared at his partner, eyes glazed over as he looked over the two new shots, a large pile of blood pooling on the ground.

They weren’t making any noises this time outside of small whimpers, barely lifting their head up to breath anymore.

“HANDS IN THE AIR!” König recognizes Price’s voice yell into the room, his unit trailing in behind him before he gestures to Ghost and Soap to handle the woman and König while he and a few others deal with the man in the room, currently oblivious to what was happening. 

“Oh no,” The woman pouts, “I guess our time is over then, huh?” She lifts her hands up, and Soap promptly slaps the knife out of the woman's hands, cuffing her as Ghost pats König’s cheek harshly. 

“König,” He says, and the sound echoes within König’s ears. “König, pay attention to me. Are you hurt?” König thinks he manages to shake his head, because Ghost’s eyes shine with worry as he lifts König’s large body up and carried him out of there. 

König winces as he’s met with a harsh light of a sunrise. 

A new day.

König can hear Price and Ghost’s hushed whispers from outside his hospital room, and he knows what happened. He knows they couldn’t have made it from the looks of how much blood they lost. 

He felt so fucking pathetic. If he had just listened to their warning sooner, noticed the sniper sooner, they wouldn’t be in this situation at all.

Their whispers stop and Ghosts enters his room, silently clicking the door shut behind him. “How are you doing?” He questions. König doesn’t speak, he hasn’t spoken to anyone in the four days he’s been lying in this hospital bed. He’s so tired.

The nurses took away his TV remote when he had turned it up so loud it was blaring on the floors above and below him, hoping if he got it loud enough he would be able to block out the sounds of their screaming and her laughter. 

Ghost sighs, having expected König to be unresponsive. “They’re not dead…in surgery actually. We don’t know much as of yet. But I know that it’s going to be a long one. Longer than anyone you or I have had to endure.” 

König feels a tear fall. He hates himself for it, he hates that he's showing this much weakness. He was supposed to be strong. He was supposed to be deadly. He was supposed to protect them. 

Ghost places a firm hand on König’s shoulder, squeezing lightly before exiting the room, his arm reaching up to hug around Soap’s shoulder, leaning his head to the side to give a slight reassuring bonk before he closes the door, blocking König out from the world once more.

“We gather here today to mourn the loss of a soldier, a friend, a family member, a partner. They were so much, fighting until the very end.” The old man says, the light shining down on his holy white robes seemed mocking to König, who stood at the back of the crowd, standing with Ghost on one side and Soap on the other. “They will be missed. Know that they have moved onto a better place, lifted higher above, and are no longer in pain.” He said a quick prayer before placing a white rose on the flag covered coffin. 

The others followed behind one by one, until König stood at the front of the line, looking directly into the photo of them smiling, the photo being only from a few months ago, arms over the shoulders of their closest friends. König’s own smile mocks him as he stares. 

Ghost gently urges him forward and König snaps his sight back onto the coffin, now covered in white roses. He clenches his jaw and swallows, willing the tears back.

It seemed to König that all he did nowadays was cry. People believed that he was so unstable that they made him go on mandatory leave. Ghost and Soap heading over with meals at least twice a week, forcing König to eat something and shower. 

Price was forcing him to go to therapy, stating he wouldn’t allow him back if he didn’t. König didn’t see why it would help, all his therapist did was yap the whole time while he stayed silent, counting down the minutes until the session was over. 

König placed the rose on top of their coffin, making their death somehow feel more final than it was before, despite knowing that he had watched the escalation of it happening right before his eyes. 

He turned away from the grave and walked away, not being able to bare the sight of the grave going down.

_______________________________________

Five months later he himself was brought down. The fresh gravestone with his name on it right next to theirs.

just wanted to point out if anyone comes at me for this being bland this was personally triggering for me while writing this so like shut up?

[ieatnomnom9823]

for some reason i cropped them and now i can't find the cropped versions and i'm too lazy so uh i drew this last night and my sister took pictures of it with her computer so thanks for that um gay people aaaaaa

[kinnsporsche]

What happened with 911?

you mean in general or the newest layer of dante's inferno that's been forged over the past few days? i assume you mean the latter so tw for csa and rape in general

the tldr is that someone (i assume its 1 person but who knows dont quote me on it) is writing graphic, and theres no other way to describe it other than cp, fics about the characters (mostly tommy but i've also seen buck and chimney) sa'ing the kids on the show like chris who's like 13, and jee who's literally like 3 fucking years old. and they're putting it under the buck/tommy tag on ao3 disguised as normal fics with misleading tags so that people are forced to stumble across it. its thousands of words of graphic cp the likes i've never seen from a fandom before and they seem to be getting their kicks from people being rightly upset about it so now people are filtering out fics uploaded by anonymous ao3 users so they don't accidentally stumble upon explicit csa.

a couple blogs have been popping up here and there taking credit for it and posting shit about how tommy should be gang raped and die of hiv/aids, and how the csa fics aren't csa bcs the kids "enjoy it". 90% of their shit is targeted towards people who like buck/tommy, and the initial blog that took credit and posted this shit said they were doing it to "defend eddie".

people have been too comfortable calling tommy a predator and a groomer for months bcs he's dating buck and i guess this is how its culminated for certain factions of this abyss of a fandom.

[gladosluver]

i think about that scene with mikan and ryota in the despair arc way too much and scream about it.

/ mentions of s/a & attempted rap3

it's so sad to see him be brave and step up to help kyoko because she was in the same position he was when mikan assaulted him. + the fact he doesn't usually try to stand up for himself until later episodes, and sticks to defending others instead

maybe im digging too far into this, but the way this is a reoccuring thing in the series (appearing twice in dr3 future/the comic anthology) is a bit disturbing. it seems that whenever mitarai is brought up, something about s/a is sure to follow, like his trauma is being downplayed for the sake of some joke/bit.

i cant help but think the two references in the future arc were written in just to be funny. like "haha, stupid mitarai, thats not sexual harassment!!" this is further influenced by how the other characters react, brushing it off and moving on (as well as kizakura, quite literally, defending himself in anime terms)

i dont want to get too deep into dark stuff here, so if i continue this it'll be via a reblog from my other account that i've kept secret until right now

[bonkalore]

I always wanted to do a pic when he first got that horn broken lol Wasn’t pretty. Tried 2 versions with the eyes since I did want him conscious while it happened but he probably switched over to feral mode pretty soon after. Was an ugly fight.

Had to look it up to make sure, but horns do very much bleed and do not work like antlers. There’s nerves and veins that run into it and if it’s deep enough into that it will be messy and it will hurt.

I also am gonna say that I’m just gonna be tagging my AU for this just as “Bleeding Magic AU” bc the song Bleed Magic by IDKHOW is one of the reasons I ended up thinking more about his character in the first place and I think it just kind of fits! 😂

[ohno-the-sun]

What's the story behind the black swan au? Is it like the movie itself or different in someways?

I think I put it on one of the previous posts but the basic idea is like imagine the movie Black Swan but replace the characters with Sun and Moon

And there is a bit more identity crises

It’s sort of the most nsfw au I have cause uh- a lot of the events of the movie are followed to a tea

The main difference being Moon is a little more unreal in this- she seems more like just a part of Sun rather than her own person

Like at the end revealed there never was another robot ballerina they were considering for the black swan part

Oh also big difference is they are robot ballerinas

Built to perform and destroyed if they fail

[lovsome]

am i so hard to care about?

[vivitalks]

Six ways Nico says "I love you" to Jason.

this is me cheating legally on @jasico-challenges bingo by using up seven bingo prompts for this six-chapter 5+1 fic: one for each chapter and one for the work as a whole. however i am posting the whole fic together because i think it makes the most sense, and also, i want to.

[lildoodlenoodle]

Not the spiderverse art book restarting the dying down Hobie age discourse. With the Japanese version implying he’s a ‘young boy’(I think that’s what it was either way either way) and the book saying ‘he’s much older than miles..’(smth like that either way either way) and it’s like seriously? Again? AGAIN?

The directors said it’s up to interpretation. And the only reason(w/ the exclusion of the people thinking he’s like 30 cause that’s weird and gross, re-examine some racial biases)that people are so adamant he is or isn’t a minor is because of shipping! Whether it’s with one of the spider teens or with OCs or justifying self shipping it’s weird! It’s weird that that’s the reason people are going nuts over this shit and dying on their respective hills. And let people have their HCs holyshit.

And to reiterate: it’s not proshipping/pedoshit if someone HCs Hobie as a teen and ships them with one of the spider teens. It’s not necessarily fetishization and is not pedoshit if people HC him as a young adult and do self ships or whatever else goes on there.

It’s fandom let people fuck around. Something doesn’t have to be justified as morally wrong for you not to like it. Stop trying to force your own Head Canons, key word HEAD as in the canon in your head, onto other people.

Sorry for the rant I just cannot believe it’s still going.

[lemonadehtwooh]

For my AU, Holmes isn't addicted to drugs (for reasons I will elaborate on in the tags if anyone demands an explanation) HOWEVER instead, to make up for this, he's addicted to caffeine

This has lead me to imagining him absolutely slamming a heavy energy drink and turning to Da Vinci to sprout his usual nonsense. Da Vinci isn't even phased (all artists has been in a moment in their lives that they've done the same lmao)

[cloisveryill]

some th1n$po for you 🌻🍊🌼

[iced-souls]

They’re having a great time I see.

[chemicallyabsent]

i think my ed gives me social anxiety. like not in a everyone's looking at my body kind of way, but my mind just can't deal with people when im restricting.

im going to a new school next year 😭 i literally need to talk to new ppl to make friends. i should fit in there too which makes it worse since im not just avoiding assholes, there's actually ppl i wanna be friends with yk