#(just got to fresh blood)

[lazylittledragon]

i already know there’s a hyper specific tattoo artist/florist AU for something somewhere in my future now that i actually know what i’m talking about

[starry-bi-sky]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s dead. He’s dead. He’s dead. 

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

He has no mouth, but he must scream. 

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

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

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

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

Scrappy is just not enough. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Being dead is agony. 

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

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

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

Being dead hurts. 

[despoticmouse]

Is the scup the type to wriggle around helplessly when SM is fighting, or do they just grab a spear and start running at the first extremely deadly thing they can spot

The Slup has never had anything so… savory! 🤤

And SM is a little horrified by the massacre. Later they’ll feel proud by the show of strength of being able to tear a whole lizard’s leg off!

[fauvester]

shang qinghua finds a demon-magic-plot device way to provide MBJ an heir to the throne. a dedicated advisor!!

[bamboozled-distress]

my favourite creature

[sysig]

An eye for a life, unquestionably worth it (Patreon)

[theboykingsmichaelsword]

no thoughts head empty just s4!sam fresh from a session with ruby and still keeping secrets from dean watching his older brother snoring quietly in the dark and thinking how gordon was right, he should've killed himself a long time ago before he could become this thing that confides in demons and lies to his brother but more damningly can't stop wishing it was him sucking salvation from dean's blood like communion that night in the factory instead of vamp!gordon

[epickiya722]

I think about how some people actually hate on Yuji, Nobara and Megumi and get confused because I went into JJK and by episode 3 I adored them.

[roseworth]

part of the appeal of a jason & rose team up to me is that they are so similar personality-wise but they are soooo different in their approach to crimefighting in the sense that jason is a meticulous planner and rose does not plan more than 10 minutes ahead. jason spends weeks putting together every aspect of their plan and backup plans in case something goes wrong just for rose to ruin it by going "im gonna kick down this door and see if anyones behind it"

[spotaus]

I think my brain should ruminate on the important characters but for some odd reason I'm staring at an unimportant side character and nodding in interest to myself. 😌

[catkin-morgs-kookaburralover]

one odd thing about going deeper is that I'm no longer satisfied with shallower. and that's, weirdly enough, a net positive. I've self harmed - eh, twice? in the last month. both were well into the criteria that should have got sutures and ignored it; suspect I hit a vein once and was extremely close to muscle, which feels kind of odd. yeah, it's ramped up; yeah, there's a lot of blood and all that kind of stuff. very high risk of infection, potential nerve damage and all that kind of stuff (though I have not got either of them; I scared off an infection that wanted to hang round by chucking quantities of alcohol on it). but at the same time. that's only twice. that's a lot better than previously.

[byanyan]

oc aesthetic builder

archived template here!

stolen from:ㅤ@bluefeathrs ♡

[matchacreamlatte]

we never got this timestamp in season 2 😭

[autism-corner]

dad wont let me be excited about my new wounds which he attributes to the horrors >:(

[deklo]

:)

[mixed-up-multiverse]

@collectalong sent: ❛  they’ll come looking for me! they’ll notice i’m gone.  ❜ from jeremy to bonnie... uh oh?!

The Captive Audience | Accepting!

"Will they, now?"

It was always the same with ingredients, wasn't it? Always thinking that there was some kind of hope for them, or that some saviour would come and take them away from her.

Oh, no no no no! They couldn't have that. Not when there were so many pastries to make! Especially Meet Buns-- those were the most important, due to being the most popular.

She glanced towards her watch to look at the time. 7:30 AM. The bakery opened in 30 minutes, she'd have to do this quickly.

"That's what many other ingredients thought, too." And down came the meat cleaver in her hand as she took a slice at him; warm, flaming red blood covered the blade as it left quite the nasty cut.

"Now be a good boy, and shut it. I need a few things from you." And by 'a few things' she obviously meant his limbs.