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anon-e-miss · 2 years

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Vault - Feint

“It’s just over here,” Barricade said, gesturing to the shattered remains of a temple. “Freak turned the crypt into his lab.”

“Strange choice,” Jazz replied.

“Not really,” Barricade replied. “It gets a wide berth. Mecha think its haunted.”

“Why would it be haunted?” Jazz asked.

“Because something like thirty mechanisms got burnt alive in the temple,” Barricade replied. “The priests were sheltering so of Straxis’ enemies. They defied his demands. So he sent them to the Pit.”

“Scrap,” Jazz cursed.

“Yeah,” Barricade huffed as he climbed over a toppled statue. Prima... probably. Ricochet grit his denta as he chased after him. “Empties wail if they get fragged up here. Their processors are too fragmented for them to really remember but they know something terrible happened here.”

“Ya don’t gotta go in,” Ricochet said. “Ya can wait outside.”

“And if the freak returns?” Barricade asked, lightly. He knew he had already one the argument.

“Frag,” Ricochet cursed. It had been a long time since Jazz had seen his twin so frustrated.

“What’s the deal, Rico?” Jazz asked. “I don’t got time for petty scrap.”

“He’s carryin’,” Rico growled. “‘N still goin’ round actin’ like he’s fit.”

“I am fit,” Barricade snapped back. “I’m carrying, not sick for frag’s sake.”

“Ori is gonna turn ya into scrap, Rico,” Jazz warned his twin. “Lettin’ yer gravid lover come out here.”

“I didn’t let’m,” Ricochet grumbled. “He just don’t listen to sense!”

“Aren’t we on a deadline?” Barricade asked. The way he spoke, the way he held his chin, Jazz saw a bit of a resemblance between this gold-faced Con and Prowl.

“‘M takin’ point,” Jazz declared. “Rico, take the rear.”

“Got it,” Ricochet replied. Barricade levelled Jazz a look and once again, Jazz could see the familial resemblance. “What made ya enlist wit the Cons?” Jazz asked as he stopped next to the Praxian.

“Sentinel,” Barricade replied. “When it was clear Megatron was going to capture Praxus, Sentinel Prime didn’t want his secret arms factory discovered. So he sent it all to the Pit.”

“Funny, ain’t heard that one before,” Jazz said.

“I heard him give the order,” Barricade replied.

“Scrap,” Jazz cursed. “Does Prowl know.”

“I’m sure he does,” Barricade said. “Considering what Megatron let happen to him, I’m going to be he decided Optimus Prime was the lesser of the available evils.”

“I don’t think he’s wrong,” Jazz replied.

“Probably not,” Barricade agreed. Jazz nodded.

“Let’s go.”

Despite the vorns that had past, the scent of melted wiring and scorched sentio-metallico still clung to the broken walls of the old temple. Jazz was not an especially religious mech but he admired the conviction of the priests who had died her, rather than bend to a tyrant. In his life, Jazz had scented death many times. As they descended into the crypt via a trapdoor that had clearly been added after the fire, Jazz scented a more recent death, the scent of stale mechfluid. He turned as he reached the bottom, turning to assure that Barricade made it safely down. From above, Ricochet gave him a look of gratitude; Jazz only nodded.

“What are you to Prowl anyways?” Barricade asked, begrudgingly accepting Jazz’s servo and he took the last, sharp step.

“A friend,” Jazz replied. “He saved my creations so I owe’m everythin’.”

“I didn’t know he had a bitlet,” Barricade said. “I didn’t know, not for certain, that he was even alive until he suddenly turned up on your side. I wouldn’t have left him to that freak.”

“I believe ya,” Jazz declared. He turned a corner, and stopped midstep. “Fraggin’ Primus.”

“What?” Barricade asked, pushing against Jazz’s arm as the saboteur raised it to stop him.

“Easy,” he said. He gesture to a jar on a shelf on the wall. “Found out what he did with Vortex’s helm.”

“Disgusting,” Barricade growled and his gold face paled.

“Easy,” Jazz cautioned him.

“I’m fine,” Barricade said, denta clenched. “They call it light-cycle sickness. Ought to’ve called it, every waking joor sickness.”

“Ori’s ruby tea’ll set ya right,” Jazz declared. Barricade stiffened. “Ya know y’re comin’ back wit us. That’s the real reason Ricochet agreed to have ya come along.”

“I figured out his plan,” Barricade agreed.

“Ya don’t wanna have a bitty in Darkmount,” Jazz said. “Ya don’t wanna risk how Megatron’ll take it, or he’d know already.”

There was a mech laid out on the table and Jazz thought it was the spiderbot’s newest kill and not an Empty this time but a warbuild, one fresh off the assembly line. But as he left Barricade, as Ricochet wrapped his arm around his lover’s waste, Jazz circled the table and he realized all at once that this was not a mech but a protoform, one whose spark chamber had never closed around a spark. Why? Jazz asked as he examined the clutter of machinery, a peace offering for Megatron, maybe? A trap? Where was the mechling? Tarantulas must have had some sort of recharge space. Perhaps he played family with the bitty... a CR chamber caught Jazz’s attention. It was small, very small. He wiped condesation from the glass and looked inside.

“What is it?” Ricochet called to him.

“A bitlet,” Jazz replied. “In suspended animation. The freak didn’t wall of the bond between Prowl ‘n his bitty, he put the bitty into stasis lock ‘n kept’m on ice all this time.”

***

Punch ignore the fleck of dirt that floated in his peripheral vision. Though he could have left the dishes to air dry, Punch picked up a dish towel the big pot, taking a moment to adjust his grip. It was a heavy pot, and he was getting on in vorns. He hummed merrily as he wiped the pot down and gave it a bit of a polish. With an audible oof, Punch hefted the pot onto the shelf. Jazz kept them up high; it reduced the number of spontaneous “concerts” the mechlings might perform. Of course, Jazz was the musical sort, they all were, and he was not afraid of noise, but Prowl, the poor spark, needed his rest. In the corner of his optic, the speck of dirt still and Punch leaned on the counter as he reached for a plate. The speck shifted course and as it seemed to fly towards him, Punch threw back his arm and let his blade fly. With a sharp ping, it lodge in the wall. Dispassionately, Punch watched his quarry try to mass shift, once, twice, legs flailing as the madmech only managed to carve his gut wound bigger.

“I figured the shiftin’ was tied to yer t-cog,” Punch declared as he walked toward’s his pinned prey, no limb insight. “Fell for the oldest trick in the book. It’s typical. The mecha who think they’re the smartest are usually utter fools.”

“Guh,” Tarantulas writhed in agony.

“I could end it hear ‘n now,” Punch said, conversationally as he watched the monster suffer. “I could slice ya clean in half ‘n go to my berth but ya know, I don’t feel tired just yet.”

He had what he needed in his subspace. You did not survive in his business, you did not keep your creations alive, if you were not prepared for absolutely anything. Punch hummed with joyful wrath as he laid a piece of foam on the table before he wrench his throwing knife from the wall. Tarantulas’ legs curled towards his abdomen and he made a high pinch keen. Unmoved, Punch pushed the tip of his knife into the foam, pinning the spiderbot like the wretched pest he was. Just to make sure there was no lucky, or unlucky escape, Punch placed his snivelling prize into a clear box, and locked it shut.

“Hey Hound,” Punch commed the scout. “Any chance ya could come o’er to Jazz’s place ‘n help me wit a project?”

“At this joor?” Hound asked. “Is Jazz, is Prowl in trouble?”

“Everyone’s fine,” Punch declared. He tapped his digits against the box. “Everyone that matters.”

It did not take long for Hound to arrive. He was alone; Mirage had his own business to contend with. Apart from Bumblebee, Hound was scene by Decepticons as the least intimidating of Jazz’s team. That was a mistake, Punch knew that Hound was lethal and when he got on someone’s scent, they were not going to escape him easily. The scout saw the hole in the wall and the trail of energon. Punch smiled as he held the box up, with the pinned spiderbot still twitching fitful on the thin blade. Hound’s expression was one of shock and Punch clucked his glossa; he was not even as old as Ratchet and these younglings acted like he was infirm. Jazz did not, but of course, Jazz knew better and he knew he would not get away with any suggestion that Punch slow down.

“I need ya to sparklin’ sit,” Punch explained. “‘N clean that bit o’ mess. What this monster did don’t earn a quick death. I’ll be back in a couple o’ joor.”

“Don’t rush on my part,” Hound replied.

There was no need to go far. Jazz’s building had a basement and within it were laundry and maintenance rooms. Sure, the maintenance room had a lock on it but it was nothing that Punch could not get passed in a few nanokliks. Everything he could need, that he did not have at servo, would be found here. Punch removed the foam from the box and began his preparations. He pinned the spiderbot’s eight legs to the foam and then carefully removed the thin knife from his thorax. He examined the t-cog and the trailing that had come out on his blade. No one needed this power. No Autobot. No Deception. Without hesitation, he used the butt of his knife’s handle to grind it into dust. There was little time to give Tarantulas the torture he deserved. Energon loss would end him soon, too soon but such was life, and death.

As Taratulas had experimented on Prowl, so to did Punch on him, to a point. He had no particular direction to the vivisection, only the desire to see the monster suffer. Punch flayed his carapace opened as he shrieked, the sound echoed throughout the maintenance room. It would do no use, there were not habsuites above them and the businesses that operated on the first floor were closed at this joor. The shrieks weakened under Punch’s cruel ministrations. He saw the monster’s spark feebly flare. There was a certain science to this work and Punch kept a close watch on the spiderbot’s spark and when it began to gutter, Punch removed the pins holding the dying mech to the foam board.

Tarantulas was too weak and too broken to take advantage; he may not even have been aware. It did not matter. He pulled a jar of fluoroantimonic acid from his subspace and taking care, he lowered Tarantulas into the superacid and watched the monster disappear. His work done, Punch replaced the lid on the jar and locked it down. Later, he would dispose of it but for the moment, he focused on cleaning any trace of energon and spider bits from the maintenance room. When his clean up was done, Punch returned upstairs. Vengeance satisfied, he was ready for his berth.

#valveplug #maccadams #tf prowl #tf jazz #tf punch #tf ricochet #tf barricade #tf tarantulas #mechpreg #tw graphic depictions of violence #tw torture #but he deserves it #vortex au #vault #anon-e-miss writes

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dumbass-extraordinaire · 2 years

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Abuse Survivor Representation in Wilde Life: Clifford Norman (Part I)

MAJOR content warnings for an in-depth discussion of physical, mental, and emotional abuse of a minor under the cut, so proceed with caution if that’s a trigger for you.

Page 53: Cliff is shown with handprint bruises on his right wrist and shoulder.

Page 56: Nora mentions he's been getting into more fights, even though we never see Cliff get in a fight besides this chapter, and also says he’s been running away from home more often.

Page 66: Cliff has a black eye and blood on his shirt prior to the fight with the werewolves; he quickly establishes that he doesn’t like being touched.

Page 88: Although he doesn’t like others touching HIM, he has no problem touching others. Generally, this just indicates that his real problem with being touched is different from the reason he's given Oscar (he says it's to hide that he's a werewolf, but Oscar obviously already knows he is one at this point).

Page 91: The first mention of Carl where Cliff says his stepdad will be pissed if he's home late. Also significant that even at this point (about 40 pages after meeting him), Cliff is still suspicious about Oscar. He doesn't trust authority figures (particularly males ones) easily.

Page 143: Cliff mentions getting in trouble if he's late again.

Page 158: Cliff says he doesn’t like being home alone with Carl on Saturday mornings and that he can't wait until he's 18 so he can move out.

Page 170: Cliff comes back on a Saturday morning again (to avoid Carl).

Page 172: Cliff has a very loaded convo about whether or not his mom knows about him being a wolf that could double as a conversation about Carl's abuse. At one point he also says “there’s tons of stuff she doesn’t know” because she works a lot, implying that this conversation is about more than just the wolf thing.

Page 207: Cliff says that the best he & Carl got along was when he didn’t talk for a month to hide a tongue piercing. We've heard about Carl multiple times now & Cliff has never ONCE said anything even slightly good about him. We should take him at his word that his stepdad is a dick at this point.

Page 274: The trash incident where Carl a) yells at Cliff for allegedly not doing something he actually DID do, and b) grabs his arm roughly when Cliff tries to defend himself. Cliff then makes the comment that Carl is “getting pretty brave”. We can infer he means that Carl is brave getting physical with him while his mom’s in the other room. Which implies that he's gotten physical with him when his mom wasn't there.

Page 299: Cliff's mom says he hasn’t gotten in any fights since he started hanging with Oscar. Or maybe just because he's no longer home alone on Saturday's with Carl?

Page 409: Cliff says “if I get bad grades my stepdad gets real annoying.” Again, not significant on its own, but it's once again important to point out that Cliff ONLY brings up Carl in regards to worrying about being punished by him.

Page 433: Cliff has a black eye & also gets cagey when Oscar asks him how he got it. He has one after Oscar has been missing for a week. Aka, he wasn't around on Saturday that week for Cliff to hang out with/avoid Carl.

Page 435-436: Oscar freaks Cliff out by grabbing him suddenly. Cliff's initial reaction is normal, but after it happens and Oscar apologizes, Cliff averts his eyes again and lies, saying “it’s fine” even though he a) still clearly looks uncomfortable, and b) it's very normal to get startled when your friend grabs you out of nowhere. Cliff isn't comfortable with voicing how he truly feels (and in particular, how he feels in response to someone grabbing him suddenly) to Oscar even NOW, after months of knowing him.

Page 453: Carl pushes Cliff out of the way for no reason other than to assert dominance while meeting Oscar.

Page 455-456: Cliff has an important convo with Oscar about his stepdad. During the conversation, Oscar says “he cares about you” even though we’ve a) seen literally zero indication of this, and b) Cliff has said the exact opposite every single time he has brought Carl up thus far. Cliff corrects Oscar on this. After this, Oscar seems to believe Cliff's take on his stepdad when he apologizes & points out that this is a very shitty situation for Cliff. Oscar's sincerity here is also the only thing in the conversation that makes Cliff’s bravado/facade fall.

Page 485-486: Cliff gets upset that Oscar isn’t MORE mad at him (very common in abuse survivors). Cliff also says here that the reason he wanted to keep investigating is because he didn't want to go home.

All of Chapter 9: Cliff does not seek help AT ALL when being stalked/harassed by Raven, even though it’s clearly a threat to his safety / possibly life. This is another clear example of his distrust of adults/authority figures, which is common in abuse survivors.

Page 615: Another example of Cliff's reluctance to tell his mom ANYTHING that's even close to the truth.

Page 795: Cliff flinches when the relic man goes to clean his wound, and then immediately tries to minimize/explain away what happened.

(Source for the Above: Rose D’s comment on page 868 of Wilde Life)

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bathildaburp · 1 year

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Avengers (Marvel Movies) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con Characters: Clint Barton, Barney Barton, Buck Chisholm, Antoine Triplett, Melinda May, Phil Coulson, Nick Fury Additional Tags: Pre-Thor (2011), Food Issues, Child Abuse, Attachment Issues, Evil Glass Tiles, Non-Graphic Mention of Bingo Games, Questionable Renovation Choices But the Bed Is Awesome Series: Part 1 of Farmhouse: Where Love Has Lived (Hawk-23) Summary:

Because--cabin. Every agent took a different road to get to SHIELD--Barton's path just required more decorating skills.

AKA Hawkeye Home Reno Edition.

Written for One Million Words WIP.

#tw r*pe #tw graphic depictions of violence #tw food issues #tw child abuse #tw attachment issues #ao3fic

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thepraetor · 2 years

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dream eater & horn drill <3

𝒕𝒆𝒄𝒉𝒏𝒊𝒄𝒂𝒍 𝒎𝒂𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒆 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒅𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒍𝒐𝒑𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔 dream eater — does your muse have any recurring dreams/nightmares?

tw: blood, graphic descriptions of violence, gore, body horror, maybe?

The dream always begins the same way.

The door to her mami's apartment looms ahead of her, and there is a heaving feeling on her gut. She is late, and something is wrong. She doesn't want to open the door, knows something terrible awaits her. A small, conscious, part of her brain is screaming for her to run, to do something.

She can't move.

She is rooted on the spot, watching the comforting wood of the door bleed red. There is a moist sticky sound coming from behind the door, the sound of something wet and bloody slapping against tile. Underneath it, there is something wrong. Jagged gasps, mutters of pains, her name spit between breaths as someone begs, and beneath that? The slick, steady sound of a knife plunging into someone over and over and over and over and over and over again.

She can't move.

She is so afraid.

Then she hears her mother scream.

Suddenly, the fear chaining her in place is gone and she wastes no time. She bursts through the bloody door, anger coursing through her veins.

She is too late.

For a moment, she ignores the shadows, the masked men surrounding her mother.

Liliana is not dead yet, but the moment Cloe lies her eyes on her, she knows she will be. The light is fading from her eyes too quickly for her to stop. There is no hope, she knows, and something inside her breaks.

It's a dream, a distant part of her knows, so the cloaked masked men don't attack her as she walks closer to her dying mami. They stand there, looming. More of an omen than a reality, a reminder that she is not safe and never will be.

The world is silent, as if it was waiting in baited breath as she kneels next to her mami. Trembling hands cradle a bleeding would-be corpse, warm hands cupping cooling cheeks as Cloe leans down to press her forehead against her mothers.

There are noises, Liliana's last attempts at words, but nothing leaves her lips. Her mami's vocal cords are shredded from the screaming, she can't say anything. There is no reassurances in Liliana's dying moments. Just the quiet sound of crying, covered by ragged dying breaths.

She never knows how long this part of her dream is. Never figures out how long it takes for her mother to die in her nightmares. It's an eternity contained within one night, a millennia of suffering suffered in a second. It's too much time and too little at the same time.

No matter what she does, this part always ends up the same way.

Her mami dies painfully and slowly, sheer agony she didn't deserve but got nonetheless.

And with her death? A small part of Cloe follows Liliana to the Otherworld.

What follows is a massacre, a reminder. Blood stains her hands, her rumpled suit splattered with blood and viscera as she tears through the men that took the only family she ever knew.

She wakes up with the ghost feeling of her mother's body on her arms.

horn drill — are there any personality traits that would stop your muse from pursuing a relationship with someone?

Close-mindedness (No, she isn't aware of the irony of this statement, but I am and I find it hilarious). Cloe is a woman full of ideals and dreams of changing the world. If her partner is not at least willing to listen to her opinion, she doesn't see things going anywhere. Outside of that, she is willing to put up with a lot, because she believes that people are inherently good and she is willing to give everyone a benefit of the doubt. Senseless cruelty would be another, but the emphasis is on senseless. She might be kind, and it's hard to remember, but Cloe has killed people. She enjoyed killing them. Her morals are not all nice and shiny, no matter how much she tries to keep them so. She is willing to go very far for a reason, but if the cruelty is senseless? Well, what is the point of it anyways? Another way to describe senseless cruelty is for it to be directionless. She sees no point on being cruel to any person. If she has to be cruel, she prefers if said cruelty has a point. The same applies to someone she might be pursuing a relationship with.

#headcanon [ the self behind the mask ]#meme monday #anonymous #tw blood #blood tw #tw gore #gore tw #tw graphic depictions of violence #graphic despictions of violence tw #tw body horror #body horror tw #sooo rip cloe and her recurring nightmares am I right?#and idk if the relationship thing made sense but basically: be willing to listen to what she says #and don't be cruel for no reason #and she is willing to give you a chance probably

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arsonic-writings · 2 years

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Events After School

Companion Story > After School Horrors (3rd POV)

Summary: After the events at Pleasant Hill Institution a high school, notes on the phone of the late Jason V were found depicting his view of the events that had happened and the murders that occurred

⚠ Warnings: Major Character Deaths, Death, Graphic depictions of death and violence, Blood and gore, weapons, fire, burns.

____________________________

The following are notes found from the phone of Jason V. following and detailing the events and murders at the Pleasant Hill Institution on the 13th of October.

___________________

10/13 7:48pm

None of this was supposed to happen.

Tonight was supposed to be nice, calm… relaxing.

I had packed my books into my backpack and got into Michael's car, he made jokes and told me about his newest discoveries, ideas, and random musicals he discovered recently. It was nice, a fun conversion and a good distraction. I was to be studying with Micheal in the school library, though neither of us really had any intentions of studying it seemed. But most plan to study, they say they’re going to study, but it’s just a guise, a lie, a cover up for what some wish to do. We wished to do some sinful making out, it seemed as he pushed his lips against mine.

I was happy, glad to reciprocate.

Though I was still surprised, I hadn’t even known his feelings for me, we were talking about school subjects then suddenly kissing.

I’ve had a crush on him for a while now, but tonight… I finally did something about it.

I finally kissed and confessed.

It was 7:03…

We didn’t get to savor our time… sadly. But that’s when everything was starting.

Everything unfolding so fast.

None of us knew at the time what was occurring… we still don’t know what’s occurring right now.

I’m just sitting with Freddy in some empty classroom, waiting… Micheal left with his brother Chucky, Patrick went with them…

There’s tension in the air… hoping the three are alright, that nothing bad has happened… it’s dumb to be so terrified, so scared that they won’t come back.

I don’t know how long we’ve been waiting. I haven’t paid enough attention to the time at this point. Freddy’s constant pacing is also a bit distracting… but a good distraction. It keeps my brain from running wild.

But I couldn’t be afraid, nothing was happening… but… something still had already happened before.

After making out with Michael… We had been interrupted.

First by the lights, they suddenly went out along with the power. The cause still unknown…

But… Then there was the scream.

Norman’s scream we discovered. Though it hadn’t been a good discovery.

We had run out of the room, running into Patrick. He scared the shit out of us.

Dark hallways where the only thing you had to see your way was weak phone flashlights. A dark figure behind us… which turned out to be Patrick.

He too had heard the screams...

Nobody knew what was happening… All of us were cautious as we walked down the dark school halls. None of us sure what to expect ahead.

Though I think what we saw was the last thing we would ever expect.

Chucky sitting on the floor, knees pulled against his chest, seemingly in shock and unresponsive. Freddy kneeling next to him patting his head.

Then the horror that laid beyond them.

A sight… I can’t get out of my head. It’ll probably be nightmare fuel for months when we finally get out of this god forsaken place.

Blood, it pooled all over the ground. Norman’s head on the floor next to the door to the basement, his body nowhere to be seen… but presumably, behind the door where most of the blood was seeping out from.

He had been… beheaded by the door. He probably had only managed to get out the scream we had heard before his life was cut short.

Micheal had quickly of course checked on his brother, they were twins, and close. Even if they always seemed to be fighting and acting like they hated each other. I can’t imagine either would react well to either one being hurt.

Chucky and Norman had been together in the basement… He refused to tell anything more.

But now I’m waiting with Freddy.

Chucky had gained more stability in recognizing his surroundings, coming out of his shocked state... Then he decided to go to find a weapon, presumably to somehow fight against the force that nobody have seen, the force nobody knows anything about. Well… except Chucky… he might know something, not that he mentioned.

I decided to stay back with Freddy.

But… I think something’s wrong now.

They’ve been gone far too long, unless that’s simply just my anxieties wishing they’d finally be back. I’m scared, I just want to leave. I don’t understand why these idiots want to fight whatever or whoever killed Norman. I want to find the exit and get the fuck out of here.

But clearly we’re all idiots, because we’ve stayed, and we’ve split up.

I don’t know why we haven’t gone to the closest exit of this place, I wish we’d just leave. But no apparently we have to stay in the creepy school where our friend died and we suspect someone is coming to kill us…

Earlier after finding Chucky and… Norman… We had tried to call the EMS… We tried to call them. All of us called, all on different phones. But the call wouldn't go through. Every call we made just wouldn’t work, it wouldn’t even ring. Our contact has been cut off from outside this place.

I don’t think Norman is going to be the last dead here. I think he’s only the first… and I’m terrified.

Norman had always been nice, I don’t know too much about him. But he had always seemed introverted, anxious, smart, and he had a quite gothic aesthetic, a bit like mine but much less refined.

I always saw Norman close to Chucky, they were close friends. Always hanging out. Chucky has always been slightly unhinged, odd… They balanced each other out, you could always find them near each other too… I guess they could have been closer than friends, not that Norman being completely beheaded helps any of that.

But I heard rumors… Chucky was going to try summoning some ghosts.

God, I swear if all of this is his fucking fault I’ll kill him before this entity kills him. Fucking idiot summoning ghosts? I don’t really believe in them, but honestly… If they are real and Chucky managed to summon a killer one, I will kill him. Why can’t he have some fucking normal hobby, like stamp collecting, or cheese tasting, or even vandalism.

Shit, I’d love a grilled cheese right now. ___________________

10/13 8:37pm

Freddy is now suggesting we stop waiting… he wants to leave and get a weapon of his own. Another idiot suggesting splitting up. As if that’s not the worst idea ever in all horror movies.

I know that more people are going to die at this point with all this stupidity around. Who splits up in situations like this?

I get that he can’t wait any longer, but still, why don’t we just try to leave?

Why don’t we just find an exit out of this school, and then head home! Why haven’t we tried that yet?

But I’ll follow… It has been a long time.

I miss my idiot, Michael, that lovable idiot… I’m missing him right now.

But I’m done waiting, I’m going to go with Freddy now. ________________

10/13 8:50pm

Something’s wrong. Something’s very wrong.

We found Michael, or well… he found us.

I was walking down the hall behind Freddy who decided to run. But I really didn’t feel like running, it’s not like my shoes were made for it, they’re made for looking nice. Plus honestly running isn’t my thing, it’s not like we’ll die any slower if we run. I’d rather not get all sweaty and out of breath.

But something’s wrong with Michael. He came back alone, he told us that Patrick and Charles died, that Patrick burned to death by fire and Charles died by being burned by chemicals…

But he sounded so emotionless, so unaffected. It could be grief… but I think there's more wrong. He called Chucky, Charles… it doesn’t sound like anything big or that should be of concern. But… I’ve never heard him use Chucky’s full name.

He’s not himself, even if you can chalk that up to trauma and shock…

It’s just… Micheal doesn’t seem right, I can’t explain it. He just… I feel weird around him, uncomfortable. I don’t know why.

I should give him the benefit of the doubt, his brother just died in front of him, he just witnessed two deaths.

Even if he’s not showing any emotions, he could be in shock.

I’m probably jumping to conclusions. I’m just happy he’s safe, and alive. ___________________

10/13 9:15pm

We’re saved… well

Me and Michael have been saved.

Freddy didn’t make it.

He had run into the gym equipment room, and ran to grab a bat. He had gotten his hands on his new weapon. Only to be brutally beaten down by the rest of the bats formerly hanging on racks connected to the wall, blood everywhere. I saw his body drop lifeless. His head shattered open.

But now, the EMS are here. I don’t know how they knew, but they’re here.

Maybe our phone calls had gone through, maybe they had gotten alerts from our calls and saw the location.

We’re saved. I’m relieved… though… I can’t help but feel a bit of dread.

Something still isn’t right with Michael, something is wrong with him. ________________

10/13 9:25pm

The police had pulled us both to the side, questioning us. But I… I couldn't answer anything.

I don’t know what’s happening, I still don’t know what’s going on.

I’m… scared deep down. I know I am. But I’m not going to let the fear out. I’m strong enough.

It’s irrational. I’m only scared because I don’t understand.

But investigators will figure this out. Then I’ll be relieved. ________________

10/13 9:40pm

I’m in Michael’s car, he’s driving me back home.

I asked him to stay the night. I don’t want to be left alone after everything.

But before we got into the car he seemed off.

He asked if I was afraid, I told him I wasn’t not with him around… it had seemed… I don’t want to believe it.

But it had seemed that after he was saying that I should be afraid. ________________

10/13 10:13pm

We’re back at my house, I got into some comfy clothes, I need to relax.

This will all just be a bad dream in the morning. I’ll delete these notes, it’ll all just be a bad nightmare.

Micheal is borrowing some of my bed clothes and is laying down.

I’m just in the bathroom finishing everything.

I should probably get back to him before he gets impatient.

Honestly though, cuddles sound great right now especially after everything that’s happened today. _________________

10/13 10:40

I’m

Bleeding out

Michael is dead, he has been for awhile.

But who I’ve been with.

He’s not michael.

He left, because I’m dying, bleeding out with my throat slit.

He knows I can’t be saved… so he’s gone.

Spellcheck saving my writing tbh

It hurts so much.

But he’s not Michael.

He’s not my Micheal.

The Michael I knew wouldn’t slit my throat and disappear. His eyes… they were bright red, he had horns, claws, and wings.

He was a monster…

A demon.

He told me himself he wasn’t Micheal… that Michael was a vessel.

I have no time left, he cut deep… I may have a few minutes.

But I know

He feeds on fear

And he was waiting for me to be afraid.

This isn’t a nightmare or a bad dream. This is real

It’s tru

______________________

News Reports say that the notes of Jason V. are over exaggerated. That he was impaired from shock. Psychologists agree, he had been severely impaired from shock. When met at the school after he had escaped he had been observed with symptoms of shock by EMS on the scene.

This morning, the body of Jason V. the only survivor who escaped the school was discovered in his home, throat slit and blood covering his bed, his phone in his hands. Reports state could have been alive for 6-8 minutes before dying.

Officials have linked the murder of Jason V. with the murders Freddy K, Patrick B, Norman B, Michael M, and brother Chucky M.

Though the body of Micheal M. was found inside the school building down in the west basement in the cafeteria it is unknown who exactly had left the building with Jason V. The Victim had been spotted leaving with someone resembling Micheal M. it is unknown who he had actually been.

The murderer wasn’t found and there was no evidence who had committed the murders of all 6 victims.

School is to resume in a month after a deep clean of the building and an investigation into the deaths.

___________________________________

Note: Apparently the one thing I would have thought to kill someone quickly, getting your neck cut... it has the potential of taking up to 10 minutes depending on the cut

#horror movie au #horror #my writing #short story #tw major character death #tw graphic death #tw blood and gore #tw injury #tw fire #tw graphic depictions of violence

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gallifreyanhotfive · 11 days

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whatlovelybones-if · 1 year

Text

DEMO RELEASE!!!

THE DAY IS FINALLY HERE!!! IT’S BEEN QUITE A RIDE Y’ALL, BUT WE’VE CONQUERED BURNOUTS AND OVERTHINKING TOGETHER TO ACTUALLY GET BACK ON TRACK WITH WRITING! I HAVE CHAPTER TWO ON THE WAY ALREADY AND IT’S GONNA BE LONGER THAN THE PROLOGUE AND CHAPTER ONE COMBINED SO LET’S GO!!!

⚠️ CONTENT WARNINGS: insinuation of child abuse ⚠️

create your friendly neighbourhood killer surgeon.

meet a characters that plays a huge role in the MCs life.

live through a childhood filled with sinister figure(s).

meet a new friend and lose them.

get a glimpse of what has shaped the surgeon’s past.

⚠️ CONTENT WARNINGS: murder, violence, gore & body horror ⚠️

a missing report. a murder. a youngblood cop. surely nothing can go wrong, right?

settle into your quite extraordinary life in helmsford.

WHAT IS THAT MELODYYYY?

deal with a pesky voice in your head.

meet vivienne, the kind psychiatrist, who wants nothing but to help you. it’s for you to decide how you feel about that.

what are you hiding, doctor?

what will you do when someone stumbles on the skeletons you hide in your closet, or should i say, basement.

kill.

A/N: a reminder that i have quite a lot of issues to fix in this update so i appreciate all the feedback i’ll get. they will all get fixed and major changes will be implemented with the update of chapter 2, including adding trans options, tattoo options and the touch-averse option.

fair warning that the graphic contents of this story will get worse, the prologue and chapter one were just the tip of the iceberg. if you get easily disturbed by these scenes, i’ll start implementing the auto-skip option from the next update to avoid the gruesome scenes.

acknowledgements: special thanks to fish (any pronouns) for helping me immensely with the coding aspect and @nikkefort (they/them) for providing a great design to all my imaginations. i have huge respect for coders cause i can’t do it properly even if my life depended on it. without these two superstars, this game would take years to complete so a huge shoutout to them!

WITHOUT FURTHER ADO, LET’S GET TO WORK!

#what lovely bones #demo release #twine #interactive fiction #twine sugarcube #choice of games #hosted games #oh also #expect to meet the other ROs in chapter two hehe #tw: child abuse #tw: blood #tw: graphic depictions of violence #tw: gore #tw: body horror #tw: body mutilation

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zach-m-kelvin · 3 months

Text

Some more yanclock related stuff

Icecube has blood because I said so

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adrift-in-thyme · 7 months

Text

Whumptober Day 3: "Make it stop"

Read it on Ao3

- Wild & the Chain

- Summary: When Wild is captured by the Yiga Clan, Master Kohga decides to get his revenge

CW for graphic depictions of violence, torture, blood and injury, vomiting, and a character briefly wishing for death

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

“Get up!”

Wild pries open his eyes just as a boot connects with his side. He jerks away with a hiss of pain.

Of all the horrible ways to wake up…

The face of a Yiga assassin comes into view as his vision clears and he groans.

Even better.

“I said, get up!”

Another kick that takes Wild’s breath away.

“Yeah that’s not the best way to get me off the floor,” he remarks, dragging himself into a seated position.

That earns him a sharp smack across the face. Wincing, he watches as the assassin bends down, unlocking his chains. They fall to the floor with a clatter. But Wild hardly has time to breathe a sigh of relief, or rub his wrists, or even to plan a quick escape. Almost immediately, the Yiga yanks his hands behind his back, then ties them tightly with a thick rope.

The coarse material rubs at his already raw wrists. It only adds to the cacophony of aches that have begun to arise now that he’s conscious. Wild blows out an annoyed sigh. As if he could forget how sorely he had lost his last fight.

Rough hands haul him to his feet and he stumbles. His surroundings go fuzzy and dim and for a moment he is certain he’s going to faint. But then it passes. And not a moment too soon. The Yiga shoves him forward and wrenches open the cell door.

The same one they’d thrown Barta into, Wild realizes dazedly. The thought doesn’t make him feel any more comfortable.

“Walk,” comes the sharp order, accompanied by another, hearty push. Stumbling on achingly numb legs, Wild starts forward.

He falls more than walks down the stairs. Between the Yiga’s forceful movements and the haze he has yet to pull himself out of, he can hardly keep himself upright. Even the journey across the main room is difficult.

Especially once he realizes where they’re headed.

“Master Kohga will be so pleased to see you,” his captor hisses, no doubt noticing the sudden increased tension in Wild’s shoulders.

“Didn’t I kill him?” Wild asks, with a forced chuckle. Maybe if he feigns nonchalance it will mask the thundering of his heart. He sends a furtive glance around the space, looking for anything that could possibly allow for a quick escape. But there is nothing.

…and no one. Save for the few assassins who leer at him from beneath their masks.

He swallows, hard. “I think I remember dropping his own weapon onto his head.”

That garners him a swift kick to the shins. He trips, only saved from face planting by the Yiga’s tight grip.

“You are a fool to think our master is so easily defeated. You on the other hand…”

The hallway narrows, then widens into a familiar room. He forces himself to take a deep breath.

“…you will meet your end today.”

Wild lifts his head as he walks through the doorway, heart situated painfully in his throat. Master Kohga sits before him, looking very much alive.

“You,” he snarls as soon as he lays eyes on the champion. “You cocky, undying little punk! You thought you had seen the end of the Great Master Kohga, didn’t you?”

Wild shrugs, a slight smirk on his lips. “I did drop a boulder on your head.”

The Yiga restraining him kicks his legs out from under him. He hits the ground with an “oof.”

“That-that is inconsequential!” Kohga replies, huffily. “I am more powerful than death! But for the pain you caused my beloved, loyal followers” – He rises now, stomping his foot along with every word– “You. Are. Going. To. Die!”

His captor’s grip tightens and he yanks on Wild’s hands. Wild falls back, head bumping against the assassin's hip.

“Shall I take him outside, Master Kohga?” A sadistic sort of excitement colors his voice. It makes Wild’s blood run cold.

Kohga nods. “Yes, take him. I do not wish to ruin my furniture with his blood.”

Again, Wild is hauled upward, though this time a vicious sickle finds its way into his back. It bites into his flesh and he fights not to let out a hiss of pain.

“Move,” the Yiga snaps and Wild stumbles out into the sun.

Kohga sits cross-legged over the crater Wild had been so certain he had plummeted into, hovering serenely just above it.

“Come forward, hero,” he sneers as Wild is shoved toward the gaping hole. “You will be pleased to find that I have perfected my art more than ever!”

With a snap of his fingers, a massive boulder appears above his head. Dozens of tiny spikes protrude from its smooth surface. Wild’s blood runs cold. Abandoning his more measured, methodical tugs of before, he begins yanking ferociously at his bonds.

But then, the Yiga drives his sickle into the back of his leg and all thoughts of an escape vanish. He chokes on a cry. His vision bleeds white. It’s all he can do not to pass out.

One, swift movement and the weapon is out of him, tearing through his flesh as easily as fingers through tissue paper. This time he screams.

He hardly registers it when the Yiga backs away, barely realizes that a large, stone door is sliding over the opening behind him, blocking any exit.

But Kohga’s shrill laughter pierces his ears like knives and he drags his head up to look at him.

“If I were you I would run,” he says, voice nearly brimming with excitement. “Because the time for vengeance has come!”

He begins to swing the boulder over his head. With each trip around it gains momentum, growing closer and closer to the moment when it will break free and careen straight at Wild.

Come on, get up. You’ve got to move.

Gritting his teeth, Wild forces himself to his feet. Pain shoots through his leg anew, like a thousand tiny shards of glass have entered his wound. A scream breaks through his parched lips. His lungs burn, breath coming too fast, heart beating erratically. Stars explode before his eyes.

And still the boulder spins. The motion makes him dizzy.

On trembling limbs he stumbles forward, bile rising in his throat. But each step is sheer agony and he’s slow.

…much too slow.

When the boulder flies free, he can’t evade it. It collides with his body and he goes flying. Pain erupts within him. It steals his breath, propels forth a shout of shock and agony, makes his extremities go numb. He can hear his bones cracking even over the rushing in his ears. His vision goes blindingly white, then spotty, then dangerously dark.

He hits the ground, crying out at the agony of the impact. And the boulder comes down with him, crushing his prone body.

Somewhere, Kohga is laughing. The boulder disappears, retreating back to its owner to prepare for another round. Wild knows he should get up, knows he should at least attempt to run. But all he can do is lie there, trying to breathe. Trying to stay awake.

Blood gurgles in his throat and he pitches sideways, gagging on it. Against the blurred sand, the liquid looks far darker than usual. Almost black.

Like the blood of the Shadow, he thinks dazedly.

He doesn’t get much farther than that thought. Because once more the boulder shoots forward. This time it rolls into him more than flies, shoving him against the far wall and pinning him there.

He doesn’t have the strength to scream, even as the spikes tear out chunks of his flesh and his shattered bones protest this newest assault. He yearns for oblivion that refuses to come.

“So, hero, how do you like it?”

It hits him again, smashing him against the cool stone. He gags on blood once more. It drips into his eyes, runs in rivulets down his face, pools in the gashes that run along his body.

“Painful, isn’t it? Well, that is what you did to me!”

Wild teeters on the edge. Of death or unconsciousness, though, he isn’t sure. Death, he hopes.

(Though at the same time, he doesn’t, because that means he has lost the battle again, failed everyone again, but sweet Hylia he just wants this to stop. Please make this stop.)

And it’s clear now that there will be no other escape.

Your brothers aren’t coming for you. Even if they are, they’ll be too late.

It’s already too late.

“But the mighty Master Kogha prevails over pain and death! You, however, are weak! Weak, weak, weak!”

The boulder retracts and Wild watches it dimly. One more hit is all it will take. He is certain.

So much for coming back to life.

He can see bone, he realizes, shining gorily from his left arm. It is at a strange angle too.

Must be broken.

It certainly isn’t the only thing. But somehow, that hardly seems important at the moment.

His eyes slip closed. Everything hurts. The only other time he felt like this was when he collapsed on Blatchery Plain.

I’m sorry, Zelda, for putting you through this again.

I’m sorry…

“Champion!”

A shout rings out across the space, protectively furious and wonderfully familiar. There’s a scream and the sound of something heavy hitting the ground. But the blow he expects doesn’t fall on him.

Instead, gentle hands lift his head, cradling it. He blinks open swollen eyes to see the blurred face of Twilight hovering just above him. Legend and Sky appear over his shoulder, seconds later.

“Twi.”

Clumsily, he tries to reach out with his less injured arm, eager to touch him, to prove that he is real. But his body refuses to follow his commands. He doesn’t have to worry, though. The rancher’s hand easily finds its way into his.

“I’ve got you, Wild,” he says, and there is pure fire in his tone. “You’re safe now.”

A head of familiar pink hair leans over him. Gentle, trembling hands nudge his chin upward.

“Here, you’ve gotta drink this.”

Potion is poured down his throat, lukewarm and burning. But the magic of it begins its work immediately, zipping purposefully toward the worst of his wounds.

Wild swallows it with an effort. Then, he drags his eyes back up to meet Twilight’s. “Kohga?”

It is hardly a whisper, yet they hear it anyway.

“Dead.” He thinks it’s Sky who answers, though his voice doesn’t quite have its usual tone. It is a brittle thing. Dangerous. “For good this time.”

Wild tries to grin, but finds he isn’t quite up to it. “Good,” he mumbles instead. “Tired of his dumb belly.”

Twilight’s lips quirk the slightest bit. Gently, he brushes aside Wild’s bangs, wet with blood and sweat.

“Well, he’s never gonna touch you again.”

“Now, rest up,” Legend says, shakily. “We’ve got this handled. You focus on not dying.”

Any other time Wild would laugh and tease the vet about his blatant caring. But all he can focus on is the pleasantly numb feeling that has begun to spread throughout his body, and how warm Twilight’s embrace is as he scoops him carefully off of the ground. His eyes slip closed of their own accord. Before he even realizes what is happening, the darkness swallows him and he is gone.

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aftgficrec · 10 months

Note

Do you have anything for settings outside of cannon?? Like au's or completely different universes

(Preferably neil centered but not exactly a necessity)

Ahhh there are many amazing AUs in our fandom, and of course a high percentage star Neil Josten. Generally, canon themes are still woven throughout the stories. Also check out AUs on our tags page where you can explore by theme. -A

a small sampling of AU themes:

single parent aus here

more band aus here

sitcom/romcom vibes here

long no exy aus here

new Hogwarts aus here

staff recs Mermay here

florist/tattoo artist andreil here

andreil enemies to lovers here

some Neil-centric AUs:

famous Neil (no exy) here

Neil as barista/waiter/bartender here

Neil with wings and lots of magic here

Oblivious ace-disaster Neil here

quirky Neil like ‘WUTBF’/‘Quicksand’ here

fics like ‘A Different Matter’ here

‘Neil’s Guide to Stalking Your Neighbor’ here

‘Dear Advice Guy’ here (complete)

‘The bittersweet between my teeth’ here

‘Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger’ here

‘Point Nemo’ here

‘still’ here

‘12 Ways to Woo a Minyard’ and ‘Deadly Affections’ here

Perennial by notyouranswer [Rated T, 11373 Words, Complete, 2023]

Neil downloaded a dating app (at Matt's insistence) to make some friends, but accidentally rejected a stranger right in front of him. Mild chaos ensues leading to conversations over coffee and a walk in the park.

tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: bullying

Into The Deep by Fortheloveofexy [Rated E, 21435 Words, Incomplete, Updated June 2023]

Neil Josten stares at the large building in front of him, his mouth twisted into a small frown. Yesterday, Browning had handed him a manila folder containing his new name, his new life. Included in that file had been a note, the same slightly crumpled note he’s holding in his hand now, with the name of his new employer. Foxhole Aquarium. Ask for David Wymack.

tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced self harm, tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: animal abuse, tw: implied/referenced character death, tw: blood, tw: panic attacks

NB: fic art of merAndrew by @fortheloveofexy

Only Fools Fall. by Random2002 [Rated T, 19789 Words, Incomplete, Updated Feb 2023]

Neil tests how faithful his clients partners are. Roland is a client; he's worried about his boyfriend. It isn't long until Neil notices some serious rifts in the relationship he is meant to test.

tw: child abuse

White Hands by doodlingstuff [Rated T, 23308 Words, Complete, May 2023]

Neil's life isn't exactly a life except for Stuart, trying to cheer him up, and his paintings, whenever he's inspired. Andrew's life isn't exactly a life except for his family and his volunteering work, keeping him afloat as the time goes by. When Andrew stumbles into Neil's life unwillingly, both will learn one day at a time that they still have reasons to fight and dreams to fulfill. --- Another take on Artist!Neil and Bartender!Andrew full of soft and fluff.

tw: implied/referenced csa, tw: heavily referenced abuse, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: implied/referenced self harm

If Neil, Then Fox by AlrightDarlin (WhoopsOK) [Rated T, 12838 Words, Complete, 2023, Locked]

Neil Josten’s machine warns him Aaron Minyard needs his help, but Neil isn’t prepared for the way Andrew Minyard is about to turn his life upside down.

tw: murder, tw: canonical character death, tw: implied character death, tw: drug use, tw: violence

Professor Neil series by HalfpintPeach [Rated G/T, Collection with 2 complete works, updated Feb 2023]

Part 1: Necessary Losses [T, 9783 Words, Complete, 2023] Neil's grad students invite their Exy-obsessed professor out to one of the most anticipated matches of the Exy Season, the Dallas Palms vs the Denver Yellowjackets. Neil is excited to join to watch his husband and one of his best friends battle it out on the Exy court.

Part 2: Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day [G, 3640 Words, Complete, 2022] Neil has one of the worst days and Andrew is able to make it a little bit better. Welcome to my Professor Neil and Professional Exy Player Andrew world!

I'll be a Brand New Day by especiallythezefronposter [Rated T, 15519 Words, Complete, 2017]

Neil meets a man who looks a lot like his least favorite teammate, Aaron Minyard, and it ends up changing his life. (A Winter Soldier AU, because this fandom deserves a Winter Soldier AU)

tw: self harm, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: gun violence, tw: blood, tw: murder, tw: nightmares

Unlucky Lies by Winterlynne_Norvic [Not Rated, 26365 Words. Complete, 2019]

Neil hates being a demon. Andrew hates Neil. Their lives are hell, but maybe with each other it doesn't have to be.

tw: graphic depictions of violence, tw: temporary major character death, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: demonic possession, tw: bullying, tw: assault, tw: attempted rape, tw: blood, tw: murder, tw: car accident, tw: canonical character death, tw: eating disorders

Neighbours series by transjorts [Collection, Rated T, Complete, 2021]

Part 1: Cat Burglar [6393 Words, AFTG Exchange Spring 2021] Neil has settled into his quiet life in Palmetto with a job at Barnes and Noble and a friend called Matt. But someone was breaking into his apartment and stealing his stuffed animals. What kind of fuckery is this?

tw: implied/referenced child abuse

Part 2: Foxes and Fruitcake [12819 Words] Neil dives deep into Minyard-Hemmick family drama, plays exy and eats fruitcake.

tw: involuntary outing

You're different than the others by Kml19 [Rated M, 21024 Words, Complete, 2017]

Neil works for the Moriyamas from inside the prisons as a guard, he doesn't think much about his own life, he is just glad that he is alive. That is until he meets a new prisoner that may change how he sees things.

tw: graphic depictions of violence, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced murder, tw: assault

NB: inspired by @requiemofkings’ artwork of prison guard Neil and inmate Andrew

Allurement by sundowne [Rated E, 20323 Words, Incomplete, Updated May 2023]

"You think I would use my allurement on you?" "You're not?" - A vampire AU in which Neil needs a new goalie and Andrew needs someone to feed from, so they strike a deal.

tw: blood, tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: implied/referenced torture

Remember! Proplifting is Shoplifting! by Mystrana [Rated T, 3697 Words, Complete, AFTG Summer Exchange 2022]

Neil works at the garden center. He hates his job. Andrew is an amateur gardener who enjoys tormenting garden center employees. Somehow, he makes Neil's job better.

If You Knew What I Know by interstellarflowers [Rated G, 12361 Words, Complete, 2021]

Neil runs a relationship advice column, and Andrew is a skeptic.

Whiskey Sour by maqicien [Not Rated, 6,870 Words, Complete, 2022]

In which Neil is a bartender and Andrew is the crime lord that owns the bar.

tw: graphic depictions of violence, tw: assault, tw: blood/gore, tw: murder

jellyroot and many other causes of catastrophy series by jeanmorexu (papencuts), papencuts [Rated M, Collection with 2 complete works, AFTG Reverse Big Bang 2019]

Part 1: (a comprehensive guide to princes and knights and how not to acquire jellyroot) [10959 Words] Neil is a young prince of Palmetta. When he was just a boy, he was saved by a mysterious kid from a thug. Neil isn't sure who he is, or why he did what he did. That is, until he sees him again and this time, he's going to get some answers.

tw: homophobia, tw: assault

Part 2: united under kingdom, and unto each other [2099 Words]

“Can you imagine what this would do the crown? Backwater boxing matches, associating with drunkards, and criminals… These bruises, Andrew, gods… People are going to think I beat you.” “No one is going to think that. It’s almost assumed that you like me to beat you.”

NB: knight and prince art prompt by @requiemofkings

CVS by anxietycorner [Rated G, 38689 Words, Incomplete, Updated May 2023]

Neil had always worked the night shift alone. A co-worker couldn't hurt, right?

tw: graphic depictions of violence, tw: abuse, tw: child abuse, tw: torture, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: ptsd, tw: flashbacks, tw: implied/referenced murder, tw: suicidal thoughts, tw: vomit, tw: alcohol, tw: bullying

Art

Dirtyhands Neil art by @prince-peachie

spiderman au art by @rainbowd00dles

tattoo artist!neil comic by @jordanshenessy here and here

the little siren au art by @allfortheslay25, wip 1, pre render

jellyfish Neil au comic by @emry-stars-art, also here

pirate Neil art by @heymrstargazer

winged Neil art by @mistykaru here, here, here, here and here

escaped single father Jean with baby Neil art by @estavs

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ichigokeks · 2 years

Photo

Kinnporsche Episode 10 - Vegas and Pete mirroring each other

#that was something #kinnporsche #tw torture #tw graphic depictions of violence #kpedit #kp #kinnporsche ep 10 #vegaspete #kinnporsche the series #nanatalksaboutkp #biblebuild #bible wichapas #build jakapan

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iamnotthere-idonotdie · 2 months

Text

dream of me

part four

…………………………………………………………………………………….

synopsis: reader and bruce have moved in together and their relationship is going well. but a new gotham criminal kidnaps reader and they face sudden death, as well as a secret bruce has been keeping.

content: batman/bruce wayne x reader, cursing, no smut, violence, torture, death, blood, breaking/broken bones, kidnapping, brutality, guns, knives, vomit, graphic descriptions of violence and injuries

a/n: okay so this one took a dark turn, and i’m very surprised i was able to finish it so fast. i knew how i wanted this to play out but i wasn’t expecting it to get as graphic as it did so i do apologize for that honestly. i think what im learning is that as i write, i sort of envision it as a movie playing out in my head so sometimes it can feel more like a script than a story. also sorry if there are some wrong medical terminology and stuff in here, and sorry for any typos as well!

edit: also— i think i was kind of envisioning the joker here as seen in something like the killing joke (movie). honestly i just kind of read this joker with mark hamill’s voice altogether.

……………………………………………………………………………………

“good morning, sleep well, i hope?”

“good morning, alfred. yes i did, thank you.”

you pour yourself a cup of coffee in the kitchen as alfred makes breakfast. you grab a mug for bruce and pour his as well.

“bruce still out?”

“yes, he called and informed me that he’ll be back soon from his workout.” alfred says as he flips the omelette in the pan.

“these workouts have been getting longer and longer.”

“he does like to keep active.”

“right, he just seems to get up so early for them. the other day i woke up in the middle of the night and he was gone, it wasn’t even 4am yet.”

“he finds the 24-hour gym is less crowded in the early hours.”

alfred slides the omelette onto a plate and sets it on the small table for you.

“thank you alfred. i just worry he’s not getting enough sleep.”

“oh, i’ve been worrying about his sleep for years.”

“i sleep plenty.” bruce enters the kitchen. “morning alfred.”

“good morning, sir.”

bruce walks over to the table and kisses you.

“good morning.” you say as you hand him his coffee.

bruce sits and alfred sets a plate of breakfast in front of him too.

“thanks alfred.”

“i just hope you’re sleeping enough is all. it seems like lately it’s been less and less.” you take a sip of your coffee and look at bruce. you don’t want to be a nag, but you do worry.

he takes a sip too and looks back at you.

“i’m fine, really.”

you smile unconvincingly at him and continue eating.

the rest of breakfast is quiet, but you don’t mind the still silence. this morning routine has brought you comfort over the last few months since you moved in. alfred set up your own room when you first came, but you and bruce quickly realized you both prefer sleeping in the same bed. that is, when he’s actually sleeping in it.

you finish breakfast and bruce takes your plates and puts them in the sink, alfred already turning on the tap.

you and bruce go back upstairs and you start getting dressed for work. he doesn’t always go in, but even on days like today when his work is to be completed at home, he still drives you. he told you early on that you could work hybrid as well, that you two could work together at home on his off days. but you enjoy working at the desk. and with this new outreach project you’ve been working on, you prefer having the team in person to collaborate.

as you button your top, bruce comes up behind and wraps his arms around you, stopping you from finishing.

“bruce…” he cuts you off by kissing your neck. you leave your shirt half open as you turn around and put your arms around his neck. you kiss, letting yourself forget about work. he slides his hands down your back and pulls you in tighter. you won’t ever get enough of this.

your phone’s alarm sings to tell you it’s time to leave. bruce pulls it out of your pocket and silences it, tossing it on the bed with a smile.

“i really should go today.”

“i think you should stay.”

“i don’t know…”

“it’s not like you’ll get fired, i’m your boss.”

you laugh lightly.

“maybe i should fire you, would mean you’d get to stay home all the time.”

you laugh again and kiss him.

“well maybe i could take a sick day today.”

“don’t worry, i wont tell anyone.”

he smiles and kisses you again. all that time getting dressed was for nothing as bruce unbuttons the rest of your shirt and you slide your pants off. while this isn’t a usual part of the morning routine you’ve established, you welcome the variation.

you run your hands through bruce’s hair and watch his chest rhythmically rise and fall as he sleeps. you let him sleep as long as he seems to need to, which is much longer than you thought it’d be. you eventually drift off too, the sound of his quiet snoring lulling your eyes closed.

it’s not until late afternoon when you both wake up again, the thick curtains unable to hide the sliver of sunlight peering in.

“you let me sleep so late.” bruce sits up in bed.

“you seemed like you needed it.”

he leans down and kisses you then gets up and starts getting dressed.

“the weather is supposed to be nice today.” you sit up. “maybe we could go to the park.”

he looks at you and smiles.

“that would be nice.”

you get up and get dressed too.

“i’ll go ask alfred to pack us some lunch.”

“okay, sounds great.”

he gives you one more kiss before heading downstairs. you finish getting ready and grab your phone off the floor. a text from tim, your former coworker in california, sits in your notifications. he and his husband have adopted a young girl. you smile at the family photo he sent and reply with your congratulations. as you look at the message, you let your mind wander and start to think about the prospect. of course you know bruce would be an amazing parent. but you’re not sure if you’d be. or if that’s even what you want. your life is so perfect now and you don’t think you want any of it to change. at least not for a while.

you go downstairs and find bruce packing some sandwiches into a bag. he zips it up and looks at you.

“ready?” he asks.

“ready.”

you decide to walk to the park since it’s only a few blocks away. the sun sits on your skin like a warm blanket as you and bruce walk. the two of you sit by the pond under an oak and eat your late lunch. the sound of birds and ducks paired with the cool breeze rushing through the tree leaves make for a perfect spot. you and bruce lay down in the grass and kiss, your picnic site offering enough privacy that you don’t have to worry about people seeing you. it’s not as if either of you care anyway, really. you’re not trying to hide your relationship, and with bruce’s status it’d be nearly impossible to try. but you still try to avoid paparazzi when you can. you and bruce lie there in the park together until the sun sets slowly behind the hill.

“we should get going before it gets too dark.” bruce sits up.

“i suppose we should.”

bruce grabs the bag and holds your hand as you make your way back home. night falls quickly as you walk. with only a couple blocks to go, you hear a commotion up ahead in an alleyway. sounds of a fight echo down the street. bruce stops walking and lets go of your hand.

“stay here a second.” he hands the bag to you and starts walking toward the source of the sounds.

“wait, shouldn’t we call the police or something first? or maybe we just wait for the batman to come and take care of it. you shouldn’t go down there by yourself.”

“you can call the police.” he continues.

you let out an exasperated sigh and watch bruce turn the corner. you press the numbers 911 into your phone. you finger is just about to click the green button when a strong hand covers your mouth and drags you backwards. you scream into the glove as loud as you can but the fight drowns out your attempts at getting bruce’s attention. all you can do is move around as much as possible to try and shake this person off you but they tighten their grip and then you’re being pushed into the back of a van.

three other people are inside and they grab you. you feel the rope burn your wrists as they tie your hands together behind your back. your throat already feels like it’s being torn apart from screaming. one person spreads a strip of duct tape over your open mouth but you still try to scream for bruce. suddenly a sharp pain strikes the back of your head. the tears have been blurring your vision but now everything is even fuzzier. you let out one more sob before the pipe hits you again and everything goes black.

pain.

that’s the first thing you feel when you finally come to. that’s the only thing you feel. a throbbing, deep pain throughout your entire body like you were just spit out of a cement mixer. you’re hands are still tied behind you and your ankles are stuck to the legs of a metal chair.

you force your eyes open, but everything is still dark. have you gone blind? is your sight gone? where are you? who took you? why can’t you move? you cant see you can’t move you can’t breathe you can’t hear you’re hurting you’re crying you’re screaming you’re shaking you—

the sound of a heavy door swinging open makes you freeze. strong footsteps slowly get louder and louder, closer and closer. the footsteps stop behind you and then you’re assaulted by a harsh bright light. it was a hood over your head, and the figure has now taken it off. the footsteps make their way around you and he stops in front of the chair you’re tied to, his back toward you. your breath shakes as he just stands there, staring straight ahead.

then he starts… crying? his shoulders shake and he gets louder. no… he’s laughing. he slowly turns around to face you, his red painted on smile sending a chill down your spine.

he bends down so his face is level with yours, your noses so close they nearly touch.

“good morning sweetheart.”

the tears continue streaming down your face as he straitens back up and turns, walking toward a table against the wall in front of you. he stops at it and slowly picks up an almost comically large knife.

you sob at the sight of the weapon, knowing it’s intended for you.

“i have a problem.”

he sets the knife back on the table and turns, walking towards you. the door opens again and you see a man in a clown mask rush by and place a camera on a tripod in front of you. he presses a button and a red light comes on and flashes at you.

“a problem that can only be solved by you.”

you somehow find the strength to open your mouth and speak, the words coming out hoarse and quiet.

“…m—me?”

“yes. i am in need of some… capital. some dineros, some cold. hard. cash. now i know you’re dating ol’ brucie and i know he has some access to just a bit of money.” he walks around you and stands behind the chair. “so, brucie boy, from your friendly neighborhood joker, deposit some dolores for me in a safe and lock it up real tight. bring it to the chaplain bridge, in person, at midnight tonight along with the key and you’ll get to see your precious little babe once again.” he grabs your face and squishes your cheeks together.

“oh, silly me, i forgot to tell you how much! let’s see, oh, how about, $50 million. that seems fair enough, don’t ya think?!”

he bends down so his face is next to yours.

“isn’t 50 million enough to save the life of your dearly beloved?”

he pulls something out of his pocket. you feel the cold barrel of a gun press against your temple and let out a sob.

he pulls the gun off your head, still pointing it at you.

*click*

you scream and jolt away. terror runs through your body like electricity.

you look over and he’s still staring at you with the gun pointed in your direction. out of the barrel popped out a banner, with the word BANG! on it. he turns back to the camera and waves.

“see ya tonight.” his tone is sinister and he laughs again.

the man in the mask flips the camera off. he tosses the gun behind his back and it clacks as it hits the concrete. he claps his hands together.

“so! now’s all that’s left to do is sit by, hang tight, let loose, and wait for midnight!” he laughs again and he and the other man leave the room with the camera. the clang of the door closing echoes throughout the room as you sit there alone.

you let out an ear-piercing, guttural scream and continue sobbing. all you want is bruce. you call for him, over and over, hoping by some miracle he’ll hear you through the thick concrete walls. you keep screaming, so hard and so loud that you vomit. now bile covers the front of your shirt and tears cover your face.

the echo of the door rings through the room again and fast footsteps approach. another man in a clown mask with a syringe in his hand unties your arms. before you let him stab the needle in, you punch him in the throat as hard as you can muster. he gags at the blow at stumbles backwards, dropping the syringe. you lean to try and grab it and the chair you’re tied to tips over onto the floor. your face slams into the concrete and you hear a crunch in your nose. you cry out and now all you see is red. you fight through the pain and reach for the syringe. it’s right there, just centimeters away, when a large boot stomps on your hand, surely breaking multiple bones. you scream in pain as the chair is reset upright. you scream and sob as the men grab your arm and stab the now-dirty needle in your vein. you keep crying, but as the seconds go by, you hear yourself getting quieter. the room around you spins in slow motion as your eyelids get heavy. the last thing you see is the joker’s white face and red smile.

your eyes slowly flutter open again. you didn’t know this was even possible, but somehow you wake up in even more pain than before. the joker is still standing there in front of you. smiling. laughing.

“you’re spunky. i like you.”

you all but growl at him as he walks toward that table in the corner, picking the knife up again.

“i thought you’d be asleep until our appointment with good ol’ bruce but the tranq must have been watered down!” he turns to you and laughs.

he carries the knife as he walks toward you.

“at least now we can have a little fun!” he takes the knife and you close your eyes, preparing yourself for the pain. but instead you feel the rope around your wrists and ankles fall.

“what’s say we play a game, hmm? i’m gonna bring in three of my best boys. and the longer you can stay upright and fighting, the more likely i’ll be to not kill you and your dear dear bruce tonight.”

the door opens again and three sets of footsteps walk in behind you.

you just stay sitting in the chair. how are you supposed to fight these huge men?

the joker sighs.

“if you’re gonna be a party pooper, then i guess we’ll have to find another game to play. maybe… target practice?” he throws the knife above your head and it hits one of the three men square in the chest. he falls backwards. dead.

you gasp and try to hold back tears as the joker just laughs.

“guess i do need some practice… i was aiming for his head! haha!” he buckles over in laughter again as you try to catch your breath.

“well good news now is you only have to outlast two goons!”

you slowly stand up, not wanting the next knife to land in your sternum. one of the men walk over to you. the joker takes the gun from before out of his pocket and holds it up above his head.

“ready? fight!” he pulls the trigger with a click.

a huge fist comes flying at your face and makes contact with your cheek. you fall to the ground in pain. he kicks you in the stomach and you just stay there, laying on the ground. he stomps on your chest, your stomach, your head. all you feel is blow after blow. the joker is just laughing at your misery.

you feel a rush of adrenaline run through you and you growl in anger. when the next stomp comes toward you, you grab the booted foot and yank as hard as you can, bringing the man to the ground. you’re surprised you had the strength to do that. you quickly stand back up and kick him in the face, breaking his nose too. you kick him in the crotch and he screams. you sit on top of his chest and punch him with your unbroken hand. over and over and over. all you hear is the sound of the joker’s maniacal laugh and your own grunts as you beat the guy’s face in until he no longer resembles even a man. finally you stop, feeling proud of your strength but guilty for your brutality.

before you can get up from sitting on him, the other man is picking you up and slamming you into the concrete. your shoulder hits the ground hard and you scream. he picks you up again and throws you back first, your head colliding with the concrete so hard you’re sure they’ve both cracked. he grabs the front of your shirt and lifts you up. your body goes limp from exhaustion and he forcefully sits you back on the chair. he punches your face. one. two. three. four. five. six. times then he finally walks away. your vision is blurred and you’re seeing colorful stars flash all around you. you look down and see blood dripping down from your face and onto your lap. the joker just laughs again.

“well, you fought off one! bravo! of course that means only one of you will die tonight. shame. lovers dying together is the sweetest ending of all. romeo and juliet… swan lake… the notebook...” he pretends to wipe a tear. “but oh well. at least now you get to pick who dies! haha!”

“me.” you immediately answer. “kill me. not him.”

“awww how noble! sacrificing yourself for the love of your life, it’s a beautiful thing! very well. you’ll be the one to die.” he takes out a pocket watch. “my oh my look at that! it’s showtime, baby!”

you get tied up again and dragged out of the room. the hood is placed back on your head before exiting, and you’re thrown back into a van. the drive is longer than you expected. how far out of town were you?

the van stops after what you guess was about a half hour long drive.

you’re dragged back out of the van and onto the street. the hood is removed and the joker is gripping your neck and leading you onto the bridge.

you make it to the middle and he shoves you to the ground. you only now notice the gun in his hand.

“oh bru-uce! show me the money, baby!”

his voice echos across the water under the bridge and you wait. you hope he doesn’t come. you hope he’s decided to let the police handle it. you hope he didn’t choose to risk his life for you. because although the joker assured you that you’d be the one to die, you obviously can’t trust that he won’t pull the trigger on bruce too.

“come out come out, wherever you are!” the joker yells in a singsongy voice. “well isn’t this a disappointment! at least it was gonna be fun to kill you. now i almost can’t even enjoy it.” he points the gun in the center of your forehead. you close your eyes and let yourself cry.

you picture bruce’s face. flashbacks of when you first met him come to mind and you go through it all. you think of his smile, how it was crooked and always made you smile back. you think of his hair, how it was always just a little tussled and never quite laid flat. you think of his skin, how it was warm and how it felt against yours. you think of his laugh, how it can at times feel rare but when you hear it, it’s like the world stops. you think of his eyes, how they’d glow like warm honey when the sunlight hit them just right. tears stream as you think of every part of him. how you wish you’d spent more time memorizing him.

you hear the cocking of the gun and you gasp. you only now realize how afraid you are to die.

suddenly a loud clang behind you startles your eyes open and the joker stumbles backward. a large, dark figure comes swooping in and tackles the joker to the ground. the gun is kicked away and you watch as the batman punches the joker in the face, repeatedly. the men from the van come rushing in and the batman takes each one down with little effort.

soon, he’s standing in the lowlight of the bridge, looming over the bodies of his victims of vengeance. he walks back over to the joker and picks him up by his collar and holds him over the bridge above the water. the joker laughs.

“well then what’s it gonna be batty-boy?! you gonna kill me?! do it!”

the batman hesitates to drop him into the rough rushing river water below.

“do it!” the joker laughs in his face again.

you see the shine of red and blue lights flashing behind you and hear sirens. the sound of many footsteps come rushing onto the bridge as officers take the bodies off the ground and into custody. a few more train their guns at the batman and instruct him to let the joker go. after some time, he flings the joker back over the railing and slams him onto the ground. the officers rush to handcuff the joker and the batman walks away, back toward you.

“this isn’t over, batman! it’ll never be over!” the joker laughs again as he’s dragged away by the officers.

the batman bends down behind you and unties the ropes around your wrists.

“are you okay?” he asks, quietly. his low, gravely voice tinges with familiarity.

you just nod and he scoops you up and carries you to the ambulance. he gently sits you on the gurney and the paramedics begin treating your wounds and setting up an iv. the batman just stands there and watches, as if to make sure you’ll really be okay. you stare back at him, trying to place this strange gut feeling. the medics walk away for a moment to grab something else, leaving you and the batman there, just looking at each other.

the medics come back and start to bring you into the ambulance. up until the moment the doors close, you and the batman just continue staring. the medicine you’ve been given starts to work as you feel your eyelids get heavy. your last thought before passing out is of bruce.

the tubes in your nose and the cast on your arm are the first things you notice when you awake. your eyes adjust to the light of the hospital room and you look around, your eyes landing on an unexpected face.

tim is there, sitting by the window sleeping. alfred is in a chair next to him. he notices you’re awake and presses the alert for the nurse.

“hello, dear.”

“alfred…”

“i’ve called for the nurse. just relax.”

“…where’s bruce.”

“he… had to go to the police station. to finish up the case.”

“but he’s okay?”

“physically, yes. but i don’t think i’ve ever seen him so distraught. i’ll call him now and tell him you’re awake. he’ll want to see you.” alfred leaves the room and you see him dial his phone.

the nurse comes in and checks your vitals, making sure you’re getting enough medicine. you have a concussion, a broken hand, your shoulder was out of socket, and your nose had to be realigned. apparently it’s been days since the incident.

the joker is in custody at arkham, but that’s doesn’t give you much reassurance since he apparently has broken out of there before.

tim wakes up and walks over to you with tears streaming down his face.

“are you okay?” he asks.

“just peachy.”

he laughs lightly and wipes a tear away.

“i was so scared.”

“me too.”

“but you’re gonna be okay now. you’re okay now.” he reassures himself. you didn’t know you meant so much to him.

“thank you tim.”

he smiles softly.

“i should go call chris and let him know you’re okay.“

“okay.”

tim walks out of the room as alfred comes back in.

“bruce will be here soon.”

“thank you. i’m glad you’re here alfred.”

“of course, love.”

tim comes back in and says that chris sends his regards.

“he’s been worried sick, watching the news while also taking care of the baby.”

“if you need to go tim, go. i understand.”

“im sorry i can’t stay.”

“really tim, it’s okay. thank you for being here.”

tim smiles and holds your good hand.

“i’m just so glad you’re okay.”

“thank you.” you smile back at him and he leaves.

alfred moves the chair to be closer to your bed and he holds your hand as you wait in silence for bruce.

bruce comes rushing in wet from the rain with tears in his eyes. alfred gets up from the chair and gives it to bruce. bruce sits in the chair, holding your hand, and the two of you just sit there together.

you’ve never felt fear like that before. of course you were afraid when your mother died, but you were so young. and your father was sick for a long time before he passed, so this crippling feeling of terror was something you’ve never had to experience before and something you hope you’ll never experience again.

“i’m so sorry.” bruce fights back tears. “i should’ve never left you alone. i should’ve known better. i thought i was protecting you but really i just put you in danger. this is all my fault.”

“no it’s not.”

“it is.”

“no, bruce. it’s not.”

“i was just so… angry. at him. i still am. i really thought i was going to kill him.”

you furrow your brows in confusion.

“you mean… like… if you’d have been there? at the bridge?”

you notice alfred looks up at bruce with a curious look on his face. bruce turns his head to look back at him. alfred just nods.

you look at both of them, perplexed by this silent agreement between them.

“what’s going on?”

“there’s something you need to know… about me.”

“okay…?”

“i… i’ll show you when we get back home.”

“alright.”

bruce and alfred clear you with the doctor and confirm that you’re ready to leave so you get in the car to go home. you just lay in the backseat with your head on bruce’s lap. he runs his hand through your hair as alfred drives you all home.

the press is already there, ready to get a statement from you and bruce about the whole ordeal. of course you and bruce don’t say a word as he carries you inside.

he sets you down on the couch and lights a fire. alfred goes to the kitchen to make you something to eat. you lay on bruce’s chest on the sofa, watching the flames rise and fall. the heat of the fire brings you comfort, but bruce’s warm touch makes you feel at peace for the first time since that day at the park.

hours go by, the fire has become just a few orange embers, and you and bruce have eaten dinner. you suddenly remember what bruce said back at the hospital.

“what is it you wanted to tell me?”

bruce sighs and helps you up off the couch.

“i need to show you something.”

you slowly walk hand in hand to the library down the hall. you don’t come in here much but you know bruce and alfred do.

bruce goes to a wall in the back and pulls a book off the shelf. you hear a click and he pulls the wall out, revealing it’s a door to an elevator.

“what the fuck…”

bruce opens the elevator door and leads you inside.

“what is this?”

“something you need to see.”

the elevator slowly brings you down to a lower level you didn’t even know existed. bruce opens the door and leads you out of the elevator and into a basement. or at least what you think is a basement. inside, you see computers, televisions, and other tech items around. a motorcycle sits there too… along with a familiar-looking car. bruce lets you wander through the area. you try to absorb what this all is.

“what exactly am i looking at here, bruce?”

he walks over to a door and opens it to a closet. what’s inside, sitting on the shelf, makes you gasp. you slowly pick up the mask.

“i’m sorry i didn’t tell you.”

“why… how…”

“i’ve been doing this for years now. i just… this is how im able to try and help. only alfred knows.”

“and you couldn’t tell me? why?”

“everyone who knows about this is in danger. i couldn’t knowingly do that to you. but you deserve to know.”

“i… don’t even know what to say.”

bruce closes the closet door.

“i come down here every night. that’s why i’ve been gone so early in the morning. i’ve known about joker for a while and have been trying to track his whereabouts.”

“but now, he’s locked up. he’s gone.”

“as long as he’s alive, he’s a danger. and it’s not just him. you’ve lived here your whole life. you know what these streets are like.”

you just nod.

“so… this is what you do every night. you go out, after i fall asleep then return before i wake up.”

“i try. but some nights are longer than others.” bruce walks up to you and holds your hand. “but now you know.”

you just nod again, not quite knowing what to say.

“i will never forgive myself for leaving you alone that night, and i will spend the rest of my life trying to make up for it.”

you look up at him. a tear rolls down his cheek and you wipe it away, leaving your hand on his face.

“i was so afraid of losing you.” he speaks barely above a whisper.

“you’re not gonna lose me. i’m here. i’ll always be here.”

he kisses you. in this room, this room that’s been kept a secret from you. this other side of bruce that’s been kept a secret from you. you want to be angry, but all you feel now is peace as he holds you in his arms.

whatever future may come, whatever troubles you will inevitably be forced to face, you know that you’ll now be able to do it together.

…………………………………………………………………………………….

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