#tw burning

disco flop hittin the town <3

Bonus:

I did this one for one of the Whumptober prompts last year. Never really intended to take the challenge seriously and do all the prompts, but it was fun. This was day 4. Prompt: "Don't be scared. I've done this before."

TW for grossness, burning flesh, and death.

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Leo and Donnie huffed as they finally slowed their running. When they stopped, they both bent at their waists, propping their hands against their knees and catching their breaths.

They'd finally made it to the console.

"Okay," Leo huffed. "We're here. Now where are the controls?"

Donnie breathed hard, hanging his head for a minute to hide his grimace. When he looked up at his twin, he schooled his face to be impassive and bored.

He jerked a head over to the slimy, gooey, purple-blue-pink mass at the top of the platform.

"Right over there."

Leo's jaw went slack, staring at the coils and bundles of slimy, ropey tendrils.

"That?! You're joking."

"I wish," Donnie said, straightening. He rolled his shoulders and leaned his head to one side to pop his neck. "All right. Let's do this."

He reached up and pressed the release on his battleshell, removing it and holding it out to Leo.

"Hold this."

Leo fumbled with the battleshell, scrambling to clutch it to his chest. "Wait, Donnie, what are you doing???"

"Interfacing." Donnie climbed the platform, Leo tucking the battle shell under one arm and following close behind him.

"Wh- but- what?! You mean you're going to let that...that mass of sci-fi chewed gum and fruit pulp touch you?"

Please don't remind me about how gross what I'm about to do is, dear Nardo. Out loud Donnie said, "Yes."

Leo got to the top with Donnie and circled in front of him, blocking him from the console.

"No way. If anyone's gonna do this, it'll be me. I'm not making you deal with that. Who knows what it could do to you?"

Donnie gave Leo a deadpan stare. "Who knows what it could do to you?"

Leo opened his mouth to argue, but Donnie reached out and shoved Leo aside, turning his bare shell towards the sliding, wriggling, seeking–

"Donnie, wait!" Leo cried, grabbing Donnie's wrist before he could lean back any farther.

"It's okay, Leo. I've done this before."

Leo's brows furrowed in confusion. "When-?"

"At the beginning of the invasion. Do you recall when you asked if I was ready to fly a space ship?"

Leo's face blanched, eyes widening. "No..." He breathed, his voice deep with horror, before pitching up an octave. "That...this is what I was asking you to do?"

"You didn't know."

"But—!"

"Leo," Donnie stressed, reaching forward and placing his free hand on his brother's shoulder, "Please. We have a limited amount of time before one of the Krang or their ilk shows up. I have the experience. I possess the best knowledge of anyone besides the Krang of how this ship functions. And my soft shell offers me a far better connection to the controls of the ship than your hard one will."

Donnie was completely out of his depth when it came to comforting. But he hoped as long as he didn't crack, didn't hesitate, Leo would be less likely to beat himself up over this afterwards. 

Donnie forced a smile onto his face and placed a hand over Leo's, still gripping his wrist. "I'll be fine, Nardo. It will be a proverbial piece of cake."

It won't.

With that same hand, Donnie shoved Leo's grip off of him and fell backwards. Donnie heard Leo cry out his name in frustration and fear, but Donnie closed his eyes, trying to block it out.

This was stressful enough as it was.

He felt the pricking ends of the tentacles catch him, digging into his shell like little needles. He'd hoped he'd never have to endure this again. Not just the pain and grossness, but the uncomfortable sensation of his mind linking to the ship's mainframe and being flooded with a dizzying amount of information.

He saw spots dancing behind his eyelids.

His body was lifted off of the ground for a moment...before he was yanked into the sensory hell of the cold, slimy inner workings of the console.

Again.

*****

Fire rained down from the sky as the Technodrome self-destructed. Its swan song was a combination of mechanical metal creaking and groaning, and the sizzling of flesh and screeches of an unholy creature.

Leo watched from the ground, not caring if he got hit by one of the fiery pieces of debris falling from the sky around him. He couldn't tear his eyes away. He couldn't stop listening.

Those were the sounds of his brother's death throes.

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POV: Years after you fail to stop the invasion, even WITH the forewarning and help of someone from the future, you and your brother infiltrate the Technodrome…

C00lkidd (ironically?) developed pyrophobia during forsaken. 

During his first few rounds, he didn’t notice it much, but after lighting the survivors on fire over and over again, he starts to fully smell and see the burning flesh, noticing how sickening it is. It got even worse and more shocking after the C00lgui killed his dad a few times, because it was right there and the smell was even stronger. As a result, C00lkidd spent an entire round staring at his dad’s gnarly, still burning corpse once. 

After spending a long time in forsaken, the pizza place map started to make him feel a little sick with regret.

^^C00lkidd pushed all of this back and convinced himself he wasn't the slightest bit guilty or scared even though he was, and for that reason the spectre never ended up nullifying it.

Post-forsaken, c00l automatically associates fire with the smell of burning flesh and just the entire forsaken experience. Looking at fire, smelling wood being burnt, anything related.

also bonus, The pizza place map has a few worker corpses as props. They are either crushed and half covered by rubble, or are in the burning trash piles where they slowly get incinerated as the round progresses. the corpses depict people who worked/work in the pizza place, which means Elliot sees his old co-workers a lot.

Anyway, I wasn't joking (tags), no one stopped me. As concequence I am burning Bruce Wayne on a pyre.

(If you're uncomfortable with any of that (he doesn't die, don't worry) please click away, there's no reason to make yourself uncomfortable <3)

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As counciousness washed back over Bruce he felt rope cutting into his wrists, bound around something behind him.

A kidnapping of sorts.

He could feel his cowl resting on his face—although thoroughly beaten with a few missing pieces—but there.

So, it wasn't Bruce Wayne, it wasn't about any money.

He oppened his eyes slowely, a painful ache like the beating of drums making everything feel slower.

"Ah, the Bat is awake."

A voice echoed over the field, it sounded like a plane pilot, but the person behind it had audible intentions. Further he noticed he was.. outside.. that's unusual for a kidnapping.

"Are you cold, Batman?"

Bruce looked around, trying to find the source of the voice but instead noticed the surroundings; he was on a field standing around a pole, surrounded by.. wood...

He was on a pyre.

"How about I warm you up a little?"

The wood underneath him lit up not even a second later, the heat & smell hit Bruce like a wall. The fire slowely made it's way up, towards Bruce, towards the Batman.

His heart slammed into his ribcage, absolute fear taking over as he tried to undo the knots behind his back.

While fumbling with the ropes he watched as the fire seemed to dance it's way closer and a strange feeling of appreciation formed in his chest.

It was rather pretty, the way the flames moved about in the wind. The way they danced regardless of the danger & pain they could cause.

"Welcome, Nightwing! Here to join the legend?"

The voice echoed in a melodic tune.

Bruce's eyes shot across the field until finding his son Nightwing, not long after illuminated by a spotlight.

"Don't be shy now, little birdie. Come closer."

But Nightwing's body couldn't move, he was frozen in place as the flames licked the wood his father was standing on.

"Not as talkative today? That's fine, I'm sure the screams of pain will make up for that."

Batman was disarmed of his utility belt, bound to a pole & unable to comfort his clearly panicking son.

But the fire didn't care, it made it's way up without a care in the world. No matter that Nightwing was running over, no matter Batman was still fumbling with the ropes.

It. Didnt. Care. What. So. Ever.

And it burned.

Batman's feet catched the flames and even though they hadn't cought fire yet, it was hot. Burning hot.

Nightwing ran.

Sprinting. It's nothing like running. Sprinting is jumping of the ground with all your power and hoping you'll land well enough so you can jump again.

He ran like never before but the field still stretched out before him. Every leap he took felt like it had no use, every step felt like another 7 meters were added.

"Ah, ah, ah. Not so fast, Nightwing."

And before he could react to the voice who used his hero name like a curseword, something slammed into his side.

It was big and heavy & overall an unpleasent experience to be thrown at you.

"Can't have you ruining my melody now, can we?"

Only then can Nightwing hear the yell of Batman before hitting the muddy ground with a heavy thud.

His ears are ringing but it doesn't stop him from hearing his father's screams, it doesn't stop him from noticing he was even further away then before.

Dick gets tears in his eyes as his blurry vision acknowledges the flames surounding Batman.

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

BAM

The largest pole colapses with Bruce still attached and Dick rushes over. His hands finding his father's head and whispering apologies to the ragedly breathing man.

But he is breathing. His father is alive.

Just..

A few more scars..

That would be all, right..?

(tw: bones, slight blood, injuries, fire under cut)