#It's technically an electrocution scar

[wouldntyou-liketoknow]

When a Tomb Becomes a Womb (Part 2: Honeymoon)

Here it is: the continuation of my first LF fic! (If you’d like to check that one out, just go here.)

(Disclaimer: While I agree that Creature doesn’t really need an actual name to be a great character, I still decided to give him a headcanon name—which is Callum, since I think it would fit him—just because this entire story is from his perspective. Mentioning his “true,” pre-death name just seems logical. Neither of the characters in this story belong to me. Lisa Swallows and The Creature are the property of Zelda Williams and Diablo Cody.)

(Trigger Warnings: electrocution, insects, implied murder/death, implied violence, gore/blood, mentions of fire, scars, body horror, eye horror, dismemberment/mutilation, surgery, coughing fits. Please let me know if I missed anything.)

With its size and structure, the tanning bed had been miraculously perfect for resurrection. The electric currents it produced could be guided throughout its user’s entire body; the chances were better when multiple parts were zapped at once. Then, those parts could essentially act as moving gears, working together to carry the reanimation process along.

None of that really mattered anymore, since the tanning bed was as good as scrap metal by now. And even if it somehow wasn’t, Callum doubted he would’ve been able to retrieve it. 

Callum found himself in the master bathroom, pacing the floor in small circles as he gazed down at all the things he’d organized on the baby-blue-tinted countertop. 

A day had passed since he’d claimed this house for himself and his beloved. He’d spent it searching through each and every room. No wall was left unchecked, no piece of furniture was left unmoved, no drawer was left unopened. The prey he’d chosen to stalk: electronics.

During Callum’s initial life, electricity was still in its infancy. A primary example was the name Faraday making its rounds in newspapers, as well as the concept of a horrible execution device. If memory served, it had been inspired by a dental chair, of all things—and judging by Lisa’s pessimistic contemplations, that idea had apparently found success. 

All of the progress he’d gotten to see for the past couple weeks. . .part of Callum wished he’d been alive to see the beginning development of that progress. Yes, it made adjustment difficult, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t fascinating. 

Then again, he had to consider The Butterfly Effect. If he’d survived the day of his premature death, he’d likely never have gotten the freak second chance to be with Lisa. 

He’d heard some people compare death to a very deep, dreamless sleep. 

Bodies and souls were separate things, after all; the notion of dying could potentially be seen as something similar to a snake shedding its skin. Once the soul departed to wherever it was supposed to go, the body could simply rest, silently feeding the earth from its burial site. 

Perhaps that was how it worked for others, but it had absolutely not been the case for him. He had no idea why, and he doubted he’d ever be able to understand. 

Yes, he wasn’t truly alive; he’d never, never be an example of anything natural. 

Yes, he’d grown accustomed to his organs feeling like they were filled with sulfur instead of blood.

But now that there was air in his lungs and light in his eyes and feeling in his bones again. . . 

Even if he’d learned to adapt to it all, his grave would be horrible to go back to. 

If amputees could feel the phantom sensations of their lost limbs, then what was there to say that dead people couldn’t feel the phantom sensations of anything and everything?

Though his brain hadn’t been active until that fateful night, Callum had still learned one thing: numbness was, without a single shadow of a doubt, its own type of pain. 

For centuries, he’d been encased by cold, by darkness, by rot, by staring eyes and splintering voices and gibbering mouths and raw suffocating nothingness. . .

And Lisa had freed him from it. 

He would go through it all again if he knew she’d eventually come along to coax him back. 

He wouldn’t, however, make Lisa wait through any torture like that for as long as he did. 

So far, Callum hadn’t found anything similar to the tanning bed. (He supposed the inner mechanisms of the car he’d taken could be used, but he’d still categorized it as a last resort.) What he had found was a plethora of smaller devices. If it had shiny casing, buttons, a cord, or a plug, it was an option. 

He could only recognize a precious few thanks to Lisa—such as a blow-dryer. She’d used one on him during that first night, sometime after she’d helped him wash off the eons worth of slime and rot. The noise it made was aggravating, but there was no doubting how nice a stream of warm air had felt on his scalp. Many of the other appliances were. . .strange, at least from his perspective. 

One that particularly stood out was some kind of mask. A dull shade of beige, it seemed to be made of plastic, shiny and hard and cold to the touch.

A pair of opal-shaped holes formed eyes; vague impressions of brows above them and lips below a hollow triangle that imitated a nose. (Callum couldn’t see the reasoning for those impressions to be there—they did absolutely nothing to convey emotion.) 

Three flexible straps were attached near the top of the mask; one at the center of the forehead, and one for each temple. A coiled cord protruded from its chin, connecting it to a little rectangular battery adorned by two tiny buttons and a red dial before continuing on and ending in a plug. 

Callum chewed at his lip as he raised the mask up, turning it in his hands. It was even more disturbing on the inside. A total of twenty-six tiny, metallic contacts glinted in the dim, having been drilled into a specific pattern to rest against each and every part of the wearer’s face. 

Despite the lack of sharp edges, the display still reminded Callum of an iron maiden. (Yet another thing Lisa had surprised him with before. The fact that some musical group had named themselves after a torture device was even more confusing than musicians performing under a title like The Cure.) 

As questionable as it was, this mask was something of a godsend. 

Lisa’s entire body needed repairs, yes, but her head obviously had to be the first. Callum couldn’t be efficient with the process until Lisa’s brain, her voice, her eyes were all active again.

And what better way to guide electric impulses into those areas than with something that could literally cover her face?

With that in mind, Callum took a deep breath and strode out of the bathroom, his shadow quickly stretching across the room and over the bed. 

Over Lisa’s still, silent form. 

He reached down to adjust some of the bandages. When the majority of her face was exposed, he gently slipped the mask onto her, his hands visibly shaking.

(In all honestly, the melted, burnt mess of her skin was preferable to the mask’s blank, lifeless expression.) 

Once the straps were secure, Callum fidgeted with the mask’s cord, engaging in a staring contest with the power outlet that just so happened to be right next to the nightstand. 

Of course, the smaller devices wouldn’t be enough on their own. Even if he were to use them all at once, he wasn’t sure they’d be able to generate the same amount of power as the tanning bed had.

Fortunately, it seemed he’d already stumbled onto a solution for that. Quite by accident.

With each electric product he discovered, he’d known that there was a chance of it not working. He’d also known that there was really only one way to test out the effectiveness of the appliances. 

Considering how every single wall in this house had a socket or two to offer, the testing hadn’t taken much time at all.

It took even less time for Callum to realize that whoever had organized the wiring in these walls was either fishing for an insurance scam, or was just some special kind of idiot. 

No matter what product he was plugging (or unplugging, even) in or which outlet he was using for the connection, the result was the same: an astoundingly powerful shock that tore its way up his arm.

Though Callum’s pain receptors were still only semi-functional, the electric jolts had left him momentarily out of breath and doubled-over with a burning, pummeling sensation coiling around in his stomach.

It had felt similar to the tanning bed’s currents. Not exactly the same, but similar enough. 

And similar enough was all he and Lisa needed right now.

So, he turned the red dial to the highest setting offered, using such force that it was a wonder he didn’t crush it between his fingers. 

And he rammed the mask’s plug into the wall socket. 

A few large sparks immediately flew out, only to vanish in the air after half a second or so. 

Just like a lightning bolt. 

Something inside the battery began to hum and buzz.

Dots of pale light began flickering in the mask’s plastic forehead, its cheekbones, its chin. The glow moved in a specific, repeating pattern, getting brighter and brighter each time. 

Those metal contacts on the inside. . .they were sending pulses of electricity into Lisa’s skin.

They were working.

They were working a little too well, in fact. 

They were giving an output that was too fast, too strong. 

For a living person, at least. 

For an undead person, however. . .

Callum kept a vice-like grip around the battery as the shock crawled up his arm and around his neck. It hurt more than it had during his initial test, but he barely even flinched. His focus was firmly locked on Lisa, because he needed to see what this did to her. 

Because she was his wife. 

Because she deserved to come back. 

Because she.

Was.

Starting.

To.

Twitch.

Her head jerked back and forth. The mask rattled and shook in time with her movements, but it stayed on her face. Violent shudders raced through her neck and shoulders. Most of them died halfway through the journey of her chest, but a few were stubborn enough to slither down her arms, to make her fingers curl.

Callum wasn’t sure how much time the process truly took, but when thin columns of smoke began rising from the mask’s eye-holes, he knew he had to stop it. He never looked away from Lisa as he wrenched the plug out of the wall, as he dropped the battery on the comforter, as he leaned down to pull the mask off of her—

And froze in place, just barely able to feel the way his mouth dropped open. 

The skin on Lisa’s face. . .it wasn’t the same as before. It was still covered in scars and blisters, but those scars and blisters suddenly looked much smaller, less deep. The angry, biting red hue had transitioned to dull shade of pink. It still looked painful, yes, but in a way that suggested recovery might be possible. 

Lisa’s lips quivered, dry skin stretching (and breaking in a few areas) as a tiny, strangled gasp drifted into the air. More followed it at odd, uncertain intervals. It was absolutely not what anyone in their right mind could call steady breathing. . .but it was there, plain as day. 

Callum’s cold hands were suddenly clasped around his head; one over his mouth, the other raking at his temple. An itchy, somewhat ticklish sensation filled his eyes as one tear after another streamed down his face. 

He’d done it. 

He’d actually done it. 

He’d woken Lisa up!

He automatically wanted to hold her, to gather her up in his arms and spin her around in a circle and, and, and. . .

He couldn’t, and he knew he couldn’t. Right now, she was too fragile for him to do anything like that. 

But she wouldn’t stay too fragile. Not as long as he kept going. 

For now, however, all he could manage was to stand and stare and shiver and silently weep.

___

The keening screech of a kettle drilled into Callum’s ears, nearly making him lose his grip on the knife. He straightened his back, mentally cursing himself for trying to juggle two things at once. Especially considering how important today’s mission was. 

He was at the stove in an instant, disengaging the burner and sliding an oven mitt over one hand. The clouds of steam felt nice against his face as he poured the freshly-boiled water into the colorful mugs he’d found in the kitchen’s highest cabinet. Afterward, he fetched a box of tea bags from that same cabinet and deposited one in each cup.

He wasn’t quite sure if Lisa could process solid food quite yet, but she’d been taking water and other beverages just fine. Too bad there wasn’t any chocolate-flavored milk in this house; she seemed to really like that, what with how she’d insisted that he try for himself back at her former home.

As the tea began steeping, his focus returned to the head on the dining room table. 

The left eyeball was already out and waiting in a glass of clean water.

The right one, however, was much more stubborn with removal.

Honestly, it was surprising that Callum hadn’t accidentally punctured it with all the trouble it had been giving him so far. He supposed he could take an eye from his other victim, whose head was still in the back of the freezer, but he was determined to make this one cooperate. After all, the head he’d been working on had grayish-blue eyes. 

The exact same color as Lisa’s eyes had once been.

Lisa. . .she’d been making a little more progress with each day.

He’d had to use the other devices on different sections of her body, but that mask had proven the most efficient. A full week still had yet to pass, and her face was already so recognizable. True, her skin was sickly pale, and her eye sockets were dark and sunken, but she was clearly in less pain than she had been with the burn scars. 

She was still unable to walk, and her voice was a long way from returning, but she’d regained plenty of control over her upper-half. She could pivot her waist, move her arms, nod or shake her head, open her eyes—

Well. She could somewhat open her eyes. 

But then, she didn’t exactly have eyes anymore. 

Just last night, she’d tried to; it’d taken a gut-wrenching amount of effort, judging by how tightly she’d held Callum’s hand throughout the process. Tears had been pouring down her features by the time she finally managed to reveal a pair of oily, half-melted clots of jelly mixed with blood. 

There was no doubting how the tears had made things worse. Callum shuddered at the thought of how much they must have stung and burned. . .

Callum chewed his lip as he sat back down, a smaller, thinner tool now in his grasp. 

Lisa would see again. He’d make sure of it. 

The right eyelid had already been sliced off (it would’ve just gotten in the way otherwise), and the eye itself was bulging from its socket in a less-than-natural way. 

He was almost there. It just needed a little more prodding. 

So, he slipped the blade into that tiny gap of space that the tear duct offered. He spent what felt like ten minutes maneuvering it around the eye, having to keep his movements painfully slow to avoid cutting its outer muscles. 

Eventually, something further inside gave way under the sharp edge, and with a sickening pop! the ocular organ slid out, its now partially severed nerve keeping it from rolling. 

Callum ever-so-slightly jumped in his seat, a relieved smile gracing his features as he dabbed blood away with a clean cloth before moving the right eye to join its counterpart.

He returned to the kitchen, making sure to wash his hands before he threw the spent tea bags away and raised one of the mugs to his lips. 

As excited as he was to be one step closer, he was still reasonably nervous. 

Nervousness meant stress, and stress meant more of a chance for him to botch Lisa’s eye procedure. Tea, on the other hand, meant stress-relief, so of course he had to drink some before he went on with his task.  

. . .Or, he would have, if not for the pain that was suddenly wracking his throat on the first sip. 

There was no strong-yet-muted tang like he’d been expecting. 

There was only scalding, searing. 

As though he’d tried to take a drink directly from the kettle. 

Callum pitched forward, just barely catching himself on the counter as he gasped and choked.

The mug itself—which was now several tiny, jagged pieces in a steaming puddle on the floor— had felt pleasantly warm. 

Nothing at all to foreshadow how the inside of Callum’s throat now felt like it was melting. 

His vision grew blurry. Both his eyes and nostrils burned. 

He found himself leaning over the sink, clawing at the faucet and then all but shoving his head under it as cold water began flowing out. After a long, long moment, the heat died down. 

The pain, however, did not. 

Callum still couldn’t breathe, still felt like the flesh within his neck was being torn.

And now there was pushing, squeezing, squirming. . ! 

Something solid manifested in his mouth, which gaped like a fish without his consent. He was forced to heave and retch, screwing his eyes shut as that something fell into the sink with a light, anticlimactic thunk. 

After that, his airway was finally cleared. 

His jaw ached like no other, his throat was still raw from all the abuse, but he could breathe again.

It took all the strength he had to not collapse onto his knees. 

His sore eyes drifted open just in time to see a small horde of worms, beetles, slugs and centipedes frantically writhing against the sink’s shiny material, likely suffering from the sudden light and wondering where the comfort of their tunnel had gone.

“Goddamn sons of bitches,” Callum muttered after one last gag, scowling as he turned the faucet back on and washed the insects down the drain. 

Then, he nearly ripped the faucet’s handle right out as he stopped the water. 

“W-what. . .what in the name of. . .” His voice was weak and shaky. (Reasonably so. He hadn’t spoken for the last two-hundred years, after all.)

His voice. 

HIS VOICE. . .

A few minutes later, he was striding through the door to the new bedroom, pushing it shut with his shoe as both of his hands were occupied with Lisa’s tea as well as the glass of her soon-to-be eyes. He cleared his throat to announce himself, just as he’d done for the past few days. 

In response, Lisa shifted on the bed, slowly turning her head toward the noise. She offered a light hum of her own, and while she usually just did this to greet him, the remnants of her vocals were laced with worry. No way she couldn’t have heard the cacophony downstairs. 

Callum took a deep breath, grinning in a way that would’ve made the Cheshire Cat proud as he announced, “It was just a little accident, Lisa. I’m fine, don’t worry.” 

He watched as Lisa went stiff, as her limited breathing caught in her throat. He quickened his pace toward the bed, setting his cargo down on the nightstand. Lisa was reaching for him now, trying to open her eyes, the shock on her face quickly morphing into a smile that was equal parts joy and disbelief. 

Callum took her hand in his, stooping down to give her a delicate hug. She gingerly wrapped her arms around him. 

Sopping wet laughter came pouring out through his lips.

“Lisa. . .Lisa. . !”

The eye procedure could wait for a few more minutes. 

Right now, the most important order of business was to show Lisa the voice she’d never heard while still alive.

Perhaps it could be considered a gift.

@radisyn @mblume125 @upstartgeek @paper-cuts-and-fresh-bruises @queenofcandys @magpierose753 @therulerofallpotatos @blue-spider-official @chofisaquino @strangewerewolf @alienbactria @aphroditeinarms @weallpartyatybcpatricksfuneral @scootis-the-scoot. @cherryycocaine @sammispook @creepycrow31 @allthesecottoncandyskies @that-random-assassin @shelf-life-of-the-party @big-sad-world @lisascreatures @we-were-d3stined-t0-expl0de @artnormal @cr-0-wsworld @bllops-world @night-writer-writer @bunnygirlgracesworld @occasional-trash @a-live-wire @babi-gir @secretly-larry-daley @fawns-things @confused-hufflepuff-screaming

[phanboyo]

So the lichtenberg scar thing.

Technically lichtenberg scars only last for a couple of days, yeah? But maybe Danny's is Special because its his death mark or whatever, I've seen that kind of sentiment going around. Though there are Implications for people who know him as Danny but don't know about his ghost half. That's a whole other post though.

You know who else I've seen headcanoned as having a constant lichtenberg scar?

Billy Batson. His would fade like normal in a couple days, but he's constantly being struck by lightning to transform into Captain Marvel so it never really gets the chance to heal and disappear fully while he's constantly using his powers.

So I propose. Danny and Billy both picking up on each other's vague references to another form, both seeing each other's barely hidden lichtenberg scars, both coming to the incorrect conclusion that they are the same thing.

Danny thinking Billy is also a halfa who got electrocuted. Billy thinking Danny was also blessed by a wizard to tranform with the living lightning.

BETTER YET. If it's one of those scenarios where Danny came in from another dimension, they're convinced that the other is their dimensional parallel.

Danny: *making references to the Ghost Zone and half dying assuming that Billy knows what he's talking about*

Billy: *completely misunderstanding and responding with references to the Rock of Eternity and the wizard*

[patheticpeoplesupreme]

||SQH dies one WIP oneshot 🔥||

1: He doesn’t remember//But the people around him do

He chokes, scarlet red splattering all over his hands and clothes, unable to hear anything beyond the ringing in his ears. His vision blurred in and out of focus, try as he might to shake away the dizzy feeling buzzing around his skull. Distantly, he hears himself laughing slightly, turning his bro, “C—Cooler than the noodles, r—right bro?”

A scowl pierced through his ears, though irritating the pounding in his head, it sounded fearful and full of despair. Strange.

“Is he hallucinating!?” Another panicked voice echoed from above him. Woah…. Above? When had he fallen over?

His vision focused for a moment and a light green filled his vision, though it was tainted by red. Cucumber—bro unfortunately understood what he was talking about.

“Airplane, please— stay awake—!”

Unfortunately, he wasn’t ever that good at listening to instructions, the system did have to punish him a lot after all.

—

“I’m Luo Meihua!” He nervously stuck his hand out to the tall icy figure, his sleeves hopefully covering the scars he gained from getting electrocuted. He really tried not to stare but it was really hard not to, the man’s looked like his protagonist and the icy guy really reminded him of his ideal man. Ah but… he did scrap the backstory of Mobei—Jun which was unfortunate…

The other guy in red seemed shocked to see him, which, was a little odd, but, hey, some people had similar faces..?

The icy blue shirt dude just intensely stared at him. It really made him want to cry and and beg for mercy. Please stop staring sir????

…

…

…

AHHH SCREW IT. He’s leaving!!!

If these two won’t stop staring he is just going to get away, they probably think he’s crazy or ugly or something!

“…You…” The blue man muttered, there was really something in his eye that made his stomach churn. “Study here?”

He shivered a little at that deep voice—definitely didn’t squeak when he replied and he definitely ignored the red man trying—and failing—to hide his snort.

“Uh—! Yes! Sir!” Shang (he really needed to stop roleplaying—) Luo Meihua cringed at the voice cracking

Red guy seemed to hold pity on him and elbowed the icy guy before introducing himself, “I’m Luo Binghe, what a coincidence right?” He smiled, baring his teeth which was very terrifying (he was really just trying to be friendly actually…)(He didn’t hate his Shang—shishu that much)(it’s just that, SQH is the epitome of misunderstanding every signal)

GUH! that’s an awful coincidence… he prayed to whatever there is above the skies that this guy will never EVER ever read his novel, the trashy Proud Immortal Demon Way that technically caused his coma/ temporary death—!

The tension really got to him and he runs away before hearing the icy guy’s name and not noticing the green guy approaching and in turn, resulted into them crashing to each other.

“Shit—! Sorry bro!” He fumbled, trying to pull up the other man with his weak arms and run to his class at the same time. He bowed again.

“Airplane?” The green guy muttered in surprise.

Meihua froze and stuttered out, “Nope! Airplane? There’s no airplane flying here! What airplane? Ah— I mean—!”

Bro flees again, not noticing the mournful look on the green guy’s face

—

“He doesn’t remember.”

“Mn…”

2: he does remember and they all live a happy ever after

Summary: SQH diees and everyone else who’s ageless does not, some ascended, some stayed around to see modern society, Shen Jiu reincarnates and YQY chooses to ascend and reincarnate too, so 79 is happy in modern society

SQQ/LBH and MBJ lived longer than everyone else, MBJ just desperately wanting to see SQH again, but not knowing if he will reincarnate or not, and he’d rather remember his husband than choosing to forget his memory at all

[athenamikaelson]

War of Scars - A Luke Castellan Story

PART 1

Thunder Daddy is Real?

Word Count- 3.7k

Warnings- Swearing, blood, gore, fighting, some mature content 

“What the actual fuck is a half-blood?” 

I scream to Keiko as she grips the steering wheel of the stolen Passat we were now flooring down the vacant back road of New York. Keiko’s short, white-bleached hair stuck up as if she’d just been electrocuted, and a look of concern in her dark eyes as she glanced between both front-view mirrors. I tried to figure out what she was so worried about as I glanced through my passenger seat mirror but was only met with the darkening road. The red cast from the taillights shone a light on the passing forest and trees. The branches from the trees cast shadows over the backroad, a small shiver goes through my back as I imagine that they look like limbs and arms reaching for our car as we drive away. As if begging us not to drive any further. I want to yell to them that I don’t want to go any further either, that I want to go back home. Home to my mother and father, a mother and father that no longer want me I remind myself, and home to my brothers who probably don’t even know I’ve left. 

“A half-blood is what you are Y/N.” 

Keiko’s words snap my attention back into the car as I turn to her with an annoyed look. I can feel the tips of my nails scratching against the skin of my palms, reading to break the already calloused skin. A nasty habit I picked up a few years ago.

“Ya, that’s what everyone keeps telling me! But that doesn’t answer what the fuck it is!” I can feel the breaking of skin as I dig my nails deeper, trying to ground my feelings and stop another outburst from happening. 

“Do you remember all those stories I used to tell you about the Greek Gods and myths?”

Keiko’s eyes briefly meet mine for the first time since I watched her steal this car over 3 hours ago. I think over what she said. The stories about the woman who the goddess Athena turned into a snake lady, and the man who stole fire from the Gods just to give to humans come to mind. I slowly nod my head at her, hoping that this isn’t some psychotic break she’s having because I’m on the verge of having my own right now and this car is already tiny as fuck. Two people freaking the fuck out would not be a good idea. 

I watch as Keiko’s chest rises and falls deeply, her ACDC shirt that she had stolen from a lost and found at school stretches at the movement. 

“All those stories I told you, about the Gods, Zeus, Posideon, Hades, and all the others,” She turns back to look at me, “they’re all true. And one of them is your biological parent,” Her face scrunches up as she goes back to look at the road, “well technically not biological per se since gods don’t have DNA.” 

She goes to continue speaking but stops once I let out a laugh that comes deep from the back of my throat. I watch with scrunched eyes as she stares at me in slight worry I hunch over gripping my stomach as more laughter rises out of my mouth.

“Are you ok?”

Keiko’s worried voice comes from beside me and I sit up and wipe stray tears from my eyes. 

“Am I alright? I should be the one asking you that question, you’re the one saying that the almighty thunder daddy Zeus is real, and then saying that one of his buddies is my parent.”

Keiko’s face scrunches up in disgust and she casts a glance to the star-covered sky for some reason.

“You really shouldn’t talk like that, the Gods don’t like to be disrespected.”

Her worried expression halts my jokes as I stare at the now serious face in front of mine. Keiko has never been the one in this friendship to care about following the rules or being scared of anything, she’s the fearless one. So why the hell does she look terrified at the talk of a bunch of fictional deities?

“Ok, Kio the joke was funny for the first five minutes but I want the truth now. Why did my parents kick me out after saying I’m not theirs and that you’d know what to do?” 

I try to cover up the slight break in my voice at the mention of my parents, or adopted parents I guess, telling me that after 18 years I wasn’t theirs. Flashes of my caring mother holding me when I was a child telling me that I was a gift to her, that she would never let anything happen to me. Was all of that some sick lie?

“Y/N listen to me,” Keiko catches my attention, “I’m not lying to you. Your mother or father is a god. A Greek god. Which makes you a half-blood, half mortal half god. And because of this, it means being out here in the mortal world is going to get you killed. I was sent here, as your satyr to protect you until the time came where I’d take you to camp. I’m not sure why it’s taken this long for the monsters to catch up to you, most of the time half-bloods are brought to camp around 12. But you being 18 brings up some questions. I think your parent is a smaller god that’s why there hasn't been much focus on you.” 

I can feel my mouth start to dry up from the air entering my now-opened mouth. I’ve been staring at Keiko with wide eyes the entire time she's been going on about gods and death and shit. She must have noticed my lack of response because she stopped talking and looked at me. Her serious expression brings a wave of anger through my system which is the final breaking point for the palms as my nails break skin and a warm liquid coats my nails. 

“Stop the car.” 

Three words are all I say to her as I unbuckle my seat belt.

“What?”

I turn to Keiko, my teeth grinding against one another.

“Stop the goddamn car. I’m done being lied to. My parents have lied to me my entire life and now my so-called best friend is making fun of my shitty life with made-up fairytales. So stop the fucking car or I’ll jump out myself.” 

“I’m not stopping, we can’t if we want to make it to camp as soon as possible. And we’re going,” Keiko glances at the speedometer, “64 miles per hour. If you jump out of the car now you’ll die.” 

I look out of the forest and think of all that has happened in the past 12 hours. 

“It’s not like I have anything to lose. I’d rather be mangled and dead than sit in this car with you, driving to god knows where, while you tell me a bunch of lies.”

I hear a deep sigh come from Keiko and wait a moment to hear whatever bullshit she’s about to start spewing at me but it never comes. Instead, I feel the car start to accelerate, and a few words in an unknown language spill from her mouth. 

“Put your seatbelt on.” 

Keiko’s voice comes out harsh and deadly as I watch her grip the worn steering wheel. Her frantic gaze moves from the back of us to the dark road ahead. 

“I’m not putting my seatbelt on, just stop the car already.” 

I try to argue back at her but she just lets out a huff of air and reaches over the center console of the car, grabs my seatbelt, and snaps it back into place. I watch her with wide eyes at the fucking audacity of the bitch. I go to yell at her but she raises a single finger at me, just like a mother who’s had enough of her child talking would. 

“We’re being followed.”

Her dark eyes move frantically all over the place as if she sees something I don’t. Ok, maybe she is losing her mind. Fuck now I feel like an asshole. 

“Listen Keiko maybe we should just take some deep breaths and talk this through. Cause it seems like right now some of us are going a bit crazy. And by some of us, I don’t mean me.”

I lightly raise a finger and point at her. I go to laugh at my joke but the car jolts forward as if we’d just got rear-ended.

“What the-”

“It’s right there shit!” 

Keiko slams her leg onto the gas pedal but it doesn’t seem to do much help as another hit comes from behind us. My long legs bang against the dash of the car as I look behind us trying to figure out what asshat doesn’t know how to drive, but I freeze when I see nothing there. No headlights, no cars, nothing. We’re the only ones on the road. 

“There you see it! You see I’m not lying! I can’t tell what creature it is but it’s big and has wings so that crosses out giants, thankfully.” 

Kieko glances between the front and me and her face falls once she reads my features.

“What?”

“What do you mean what? There is nothing there.”

I turn to the back of the car and point to the vacant road behind us. Keiko turns around and her eyebrows raise.

“No, it was right there.” 

But as she turns back around to face the front, I jump from the loud yelp that escapes her lips as she appears to see something before us on the road. Something I can’t seem to see. What I don’t see coming either is the tight right turn Keiko makes to miss the invisible “creature.” I grasped onto the passenger side door and turned wide-eyed to her. About to yell at her when the driver’s side of the car is lifted and I feel my heart fall to my ass as I watch the trees that were once reaching and calling for me, get their wish as the car is thrown into the woods. 

“Y/N, come wake up, Y/N!” 

I hear muffled voices come from above me as cold winds envelop me. I must be in heaven, God must be calling for me. I try to open my eyes but the overwhelming pressure in my head urges me to keep them closed for just five more minutes. I’m about to give in to the thought when a sharp pressure hits the side of my cheek, shocking me awake.

I abruptly sit up but quickly regret it when a pounding pain comes from every part of my body. My eyes can’t seem to register my dark surroundings either as more pain enters my frontal lobe. 

“I’m sorry I did that but I need you to get up, I don’t know where the chimera is, but I can feel it’s close.” 

Kieko, that’s Kieko. My brain tries to get me to register her words but the throbbing in my head is halting any thought process from going on. Another wave of red pain goes through my body as I feel an arm wrap itself around my waist and lift me.

“Do you think you can walk?”

A voice asks me. No, not a voice, Kieko’s voice. Kieko is talking to me. I try to shake my head as if to fight away the overwhelming urge to close my eyes and lay down and sleep for the foreseen future. 

“Get up and walk”. 

A voice comes into my head. Why does my subconscious sound so manly and bossy? But I listen to it as I feel my feet try to move one after the other. The overwhelming pressure coming from my entire body though makes it feel as if I’m dragging two cinderblocks on each leg. 

“OK, good. We’re about a mile from camp I think if I got my constellations correct.” 

I finally can get my eyes open as I stare at Kieko beside me. If I wasn’t feeling like absolute dogshit right now I’d laugh at the image of her short body leaning awkwardly to the side trying to carry my taller one. I try to lean off of her slightly to give her help but her grip tightens on me.

“Don’t, you got banged up pretty hard in the accident. I thought I had lost you for a moment there, but it was my mistake for thinking you’d ever let death take you this young or without your approval.”

Kieko lets out a small laugh which quickly turns into a cough as she winces in pain.

“Are you hurt?”

My voice comes out strained and rough, like an old woman who’s been smoking since she was 13 years old. Kieko just shakes her head and picks up the pace of her walking. 

“Just a few scratches, nothing as bad as you. We need to move faster though I can sense the chimera getting closer. The smell of your blood is making it easier for it to track us.”

My face scrunches up at the words. I want to argue to her that there’s no creature out there hunting us and that she is just having a psychotic break but once I feel the cold metallic-smelling liquid move down my face as if it was caressing it, I stay quiet. 

We continue to walk for what seems like hours, or well Kieko walks and I latch on to her and get dragged. I don’t know where the hell she’s going but I have no other choice but to go with her. I lurch forward as Kieko abruptly stops. Her heading whipped around us like a mad woman. 

“Did you hear that?” 

She whispers into my ear. I shake my head in response. And we stand there for a moment before she tightens her hold on me and starts to walk again. Her hand around my waist quickly detaches and I can only watch in what seems like slow motion as she is thrown against a neighboring tree. A sickening crack comes from her body as I watch it fall to the ground. I go to run to her a roar turns my attention to behind me. I can feel my heart beat erratically as I slowly turn to the monstrous being behind me. With a body that must stand above 10 feet tall, a lion stands before me. Wait. No. Not a lion. Defiantly not a lion. 

Acidic bile starts to make its way up my throat as my eyes meet the red beady eyes of a goat, a goat that is protruding from the lion's back. A hissing sound catches my attention as I slowly turn my gaze to the python that has replaced the lion goat’s tail. 

As I stare at the creature I want to pass out. Or maybe I’m already asleep and this is some bad nightmare. But as the lion-goat-snake thing takes a step toward me, with its paws that rival the size of my big head I use whatever strength I have left and run. If I can lead it away from Kieko that's all that matters. 

I don’t have to worry about it not following me as I hear the thundering footsteps catch up behind me. I try to dodge tree after tree, jumping over fallen logs, and feel my sneakers imprint into the mud that has started to form from the light downfall of rain that has started to coat myself and the forest. 

I go to turn right, the downpour of the rain falling harder and blocking much of my already shitty vision. But a burst of heat and flames come from behind me hitting the trees to my right. I whip my head around to see smoke coming from the lion-goat-snake thing and curse to myself. Of course, it can breathe fire too. I try to go to my left but a searing pain catches on my back as I drop to the ground. 

I lift myself on my elbows as I watch the monster lift its large paw and lick the red liquid off of its nails as if it were mocking me. Its eyes glint with malice as the goat lets out a strangled noise.

“We’re a gift from Athena.”

A strangled hiss comes from the snake's mouth.

 I go to close my eyes and just accept my fate but stop when my manly subconscious chimes in again. 

“Get up and fight, you’re a warrior. Grab the stick next to you and fight back. Make it bleed. If it can bleed it can be killed.” 

God, when did I become so melodramatic? But I realize manly me is right, if I die this thing will go back for Keiko. The monster continues its prowl toward me as I keep eye contact with it. Hoping it doesn’t see my right hand that has grasped onto the stick by my side. I wait until the lion opens its mouth, probably to light me on fucking fire and that’s when I strike. 

I lift myself onto my knees and lurch forward with the stick in my hand and as the lion opens its ginormous mouth and I see the start of embers begin to light in its throat I stab the stick right down into it. I loud howl of pain comes from the creature as it tries to dislodge the stick that is now protruding from its mouth. I watch for another moment as the goat and the snake move around frantically trying to help their injured creature. But I know if they do succeed in getting that out I’m fucked so I push myself up with a hiss. The overwhelming smell of blood coming from my back, the more I move the harsher the pull and pain. But I'm not letting the ugly motherfucker be my demise. 

I come up from behind the creature, which is now facing away from me with its entire focus on dislodging the stick, and I leap onto its back. The goat and the snake are the only ones to notice my arrival as they start hissing and making whatever strange noise the goat is making. I grab onto the fur of the creature to keep myself upright and I grasp the snake into my hands. It thrashes in my hands, its cool slimy body almost making me drop it as I try to wrap the snake around the goat's throat. I pull in the opposite direction with all my weight as the hissing constricts until I hear the crack of the goat's neck. The strangled snake and the now dead goat have caught the attention of the lion who has finally dislodged the stick and has now noticed me.

The lion roars so deeply that it makes my body shake. I would almost feel bad for killing its friends/body sharers if it wasn’t trying to y’know fucking kill me. The lion stands to its full height and starts to thrash its body as a means to get me off. I quickly grasp the curled horns of the goat as a means of stabilization. But as the thrashing gets harsher I hear a sharp snap as I’m thrown against yet another tree. 

Bark scratches up my already bloody back as I let out a loud wail. The rain from before crashing down all around me thunder shakes the earth and forest and lightning strikes a nearby tree. But my attention is fully on the lion who has now started its attack on me. I can sit there as I lift my hands to protect my face as the lion comes rushing at me. 

I sit there drenched, cold, and bloody waiting for my demise, but nothing comes. I slowly open one eye and flinch as I see the lion staring at me. But it’s not moving. It’s not breathing either. Its once hatred-filled eyes are now glossed over with death. My gaze goes from its haunting eyes to its chest where the goat horn I had cracked off is now lodged into the lion's heart. Red liquid coated my hands as I loosened my grip on the horn and backed away from the dead creature. 

“How did you do that?” 

I thrash my head to the side grabbing the horn a second time in defense. I halt though when I see Keiko holding herself up against a tree. Blood trickles down her whitening skin as she looks at the monster in awe and slight disgust. She pushes off the tree and starts to walk to me but her knees lock up and she falls to the ground. I push myself back up quickly and crawl to her. 

“Are you ok?”

I quickly ask her, wiping away the blood that has now made its way onto her eyebrows. Keiko sends me an unreadable look. 

“How did you kill the Chimera?” 

I go to answer, but a shock of lightning comes down between us. The only thing I can focus on is the scorching pain that has taken over my body and left arm. My vision goes black as I feel my heart start to give out. 

“We need a medic.” A strained voice yells from beside me. Or is it coming from behind me? I can’t tell. All I can focus on is the searing pain that has taken over my being, I can’t seem to focus on the campers running over to me and Kieko, I can’t hear any more of Keiko's cries for help, and I don’t feel the muscular arms wrap around my body as I feel my heart start to slow down again, everything going back to dark. 

“I think she’s waking up!” 

A loud girlish voice comes from beside me.

“That’s what you said two days ago.” 

Another more annoyed voice talks back. I strain to open my eyes as light crashes against my burning pupils. But I do I open them enough to look up to see dark brown eyes staring down at my Y/E/C ones. 

“Welcome to Camp Half-Blood Sleeping Beauty.”

[idontplaytrack]

Reader takes care of a stubborn sick Capri who doesn’t want to miss cheer practice

Capri finally got cleared to do cheer again after the incident however a week and a half into cheer practices she gets a cold

Sang it to you soft & sweet

Capri Donahue x fem! reader

Warnings: coarse language, fluff, mentions & some descriptions to Capri’s accident and injuries, tiny bit of angst

Capri couldn’t wait to get back to cheerleading, but life kicks her down when she’s already down.

The last ten weeks have been pure chaos. From Capri’s electrocution accident, to her near death experience, her coma and her waking up. You got no breaks, feeling all the emotions. You were exhausted, but so happy Capri got through it. You didn’t lose her. Your girlfriend was still here, with you. Capri was out of school for awhile and relied on you to get her assignments done. You helped her catch up, and she was doing just fine, as you’d expected her to be. She was always a bright student. Now, Capri was just…bored. She has been longing to get back on the tumbling track, get moving again like she used to. It felt like eons ago when she last got to be as active as she was. So she was feeling a little bit upset over it, her doctors have yet to clear her for strenuous physical activities like cheerleading following a prolonged hospital stay.

To her, the biggest surprise was coming out of the ‘freak accident’ and being alive. Doctors say that it wouldn’t have been possible given how she literally died following the electrocution. But since they knew her case and extent of how she was hurt, this was a what they called a miracle. And hey, they weren’t wrong. She was experiencing some after effects, but they weren’t the worst part of her recovery process. The worst, was her being diagnosed with PTSD following the incident. The flashbacks and nightmares leading to insomnia attacks, she was tired for a long time and it had only recently improved. Why? She finally gave in and agreed to start seeing a psychiatrist and got her started on the appropriate meds to control her symptoms.

“I’m boredddd.” Capri groans.

“I know, baby.” You bite back a sigh, hand on her thigh tentatively.

“It’s been weeks, why am I still not allowed to do anything?” She sulked, laying her head in your lap. You naturally started to play with her hair and braid it. She smiles at you for that.

“Baby, you’ve been through a major thing, you’re still getting a bunch of symptoms from the electrocution. They just wanna be careful and make sure you’re completely safe before they clear you for something as strenuous as cheer.”

The accident didn’t leave her any scars, but she was definitely dealing with a lot, still. Muscle spasms, headaches, loss of balance, random tingling sensations…she even had an irregular heartbeat for awhile. Technically, the worst part of it was over. But was it, really? You guys didn't know if she’d be dealing with any long term effects yet.

“Are you coming with me tomorrow? For my appointment?”

“Baby, of course I am.” You took her hand into your own, pressing a kiss to the back of it. She doesn’t respond verbally but a smile tugs at her lips. Before you could say anything else, Capri’s sister returned home from her lunch date with her husband.

“Hi, guys.”

“Hey, Lucca.” Capri greeted back without a sigh.

The older sister couldn’t help it but laugh. “Why are you just moping around? You guys can go to the mall or the park.”

“Already did.” You answered while Lucca walked over and sat down on the armchair.

“Anyway…you ready for your appointment tomorrow?”

“I’m nervous.” Capri admitted. “Also kinda sucks that Daddy can’t come with me too.”

“I know, honey. But y/n will be there, and me. Heck, even Jude if you want him to stay instead of just dropping us off. “We’ll keep Dad updated, alright? He knows, but he’s just—”

“On that business trip. I know, I know. He was scheduled for that since before I got hurt.”

————

Capri squeals, “God, I can finally start doing cheer again. Oh, I’m so excited.” You rubbed her back, arm eventually snaking around her waist protectively. Ever since she’s gotten discharged from hospital, you’ve become way more protective of her than she was of you. And damn, the girl made sure everyone knew that you were her girl. Her excitement was adorable, but you were quickly worried. About how she’d hold up at practice— that was tomorrow. You didn’t show it, of course. You couldn’t do that. You didn’t want to be a downer and ruin her mood. She was so happy.

The four of you went out to lunch to celebrate, then went home. The older couple had work, while you and Capri had school the next day. So, some downtime was definitely needed. Capri also called her Dad immediately to let him know the good news. It was always such a sweet thing to witness the bond between Capri and her Dad— she was such a Daddy’s girl. Her Dad was busy, but he always tried his hardest to spend as much time with her and Lucca as possible. He also treated you like another daughter of his, which was lovely.

Everything went back to pre-incident normalcy for a week. The next morning, Lucca and Jude dropped you both at school on their way to work. It was obvious Capri was in a better mood than usual lately. She was practically floating. Heck, she even said hi to Darby. As per every Tuesday’s schedule, you and Capri would be separated by classes for the first half of the day, only meeting up again at lunch. “Hi, baby.” You approached her, that smile on your face quickly fell.

Uh-oh. She wasn’t doing well.

“Capri, honey?” You sat her down, “What’s the matter?”

She avoided eye contact with you but there was no doubt that she seemed a little pale. Capri sneezes seconds later, giving you the confirmation you needed. “No cheer for you today.” You told her.

“Babe, I’m fine.”

“No, you aren’t. I don’t want you to push yourself too hard.” You spoke, cupping her cheek to make her look at you. “Do you wanna go home?” She ponders over your question briefly, then nodded her head without a word. Ever since what happened, she was significantly less stubborn, knowing how terrible things could get if she didn’t take care of herself, if she wasn’t more careful. Since the school clearly knew about Capri’s situation, they allowed her some leniency in terms of leaving school early. So you were able to take her home, no problem. Even though she’d agreed to go home, you knew she was upset about it, having to miss cheer practice. “You know, the squad just practices no matter what. We’d never miss a session over a cold.”

You bit your lip, not saying anything for a bit. “I’m sorry, but— you need to be careful right now, your body’s still recovering and now you’re sick so if you push yourself even just a little bit too much, I’m scared, honey.”

“I get it.” Capri gives you a solemn nod, “I’ll rest, okay?”

Once back at her place, you got Capri upstairs and into her bed after she changed out of her current outfit into a more comfy one. “You wanna get some sleep?”

“No.”

“Capri.” You warned.

She pouted, “I’m not sleepy.” You climbed into bed and carefully laid yourself on top of her. Capri sighs, “Yeah, I can easily roll you over and you’d be on the floor.” She smirked too. As annoyed as you were that she was being a little difficult, you decided to play along for a bit.

“Oh, yeah? You’d let your baby fall to the ground and hit her head?”

“Anything’s possible with me, y/n. You should know that by now.” She chuckles, rubbing your back soothingly.

You smirked, asking her playfully, “So, I’m your baby?”

“Huh. Did I say that?” She teased.

“Fine.” You huffed, “Stay up, don’t sleep.” Capri was just amused. Why was it so hard for her to take a goddamn nap that she so clearly needed?

“What can I do so you’d agree to take a nap?” You asked, gazing up at her big brown eyes. “I could sing.”

“You could.” Capri grins.

“Sure.” You agreed, having just the song in mind.

When you were done, you realised Capri was staring at you. “Uh.” She sniffed, “Did you…did you sing me this song while I was in the coma?” You blinked profusely, “I did. I wrote it to kind of just process all of what I was feeling and then one day I just sat there and sang it to you, hoping it would do something.”

Now her eyes were glossed over and her lips were quivering as she presses a kiss to the top of your head, “I’m so sorry I put you through that, darling.”

“It’s not your fault.” You were swiftly feeling like crying as well, but you swallowed your tears. “I’m just glad you’re still here with me.” Capri continues rubbing your back in a soothing motion, “Anything’s possible with me, y/n.”

You chuckled tearfully, “I’m sorry for being so insistent that you rested. It’s just that after everything…I’m terrified that I would lose you again if something happened so I’m being so careful but it’s not helping you if I just stay afraid all the time because life still has to go on, I shouldn’t be stopping you from cheering.”

“I think it’s sweet you’re looking out for me like that…being so protective. But, I get you. It’s not easy, having to go through all the stages of grief, the shock, the helplessness, the anger, and then hearing that ‘oh, she’s alive! But…she’s in a coma’. What happened didn’t just affect…me. It affected so many people, my parents, my sister, my friends…you. I heard it all, the crying, the screaming…and baby, I am so grateful that you stuck by me. You didn’t need to, but you did. And honestly, you— you were what I was fighting for. I could never leave you, ever.”

“Get some rest, I’ll be right here with you.” You licked your lips, getting off of her and laying beside her instead.

She nodded, finally not fighting the sleepiness.

Your arm rests across her chest, palm patting her to sleep. “We’ll get you a dose of meds for the cold if you need it later, okay?”

“Okay.” She agrees quietly.

“I love you.” You told her.

“I love you too, darling.” Capri replies groggily, “I love you so much. Thank you…for everything you’ve been doing for me.”

“You are my one, you set my world on fire.

I know there’s heaven but we must be higher.

I’m gonna love you till my heart retires.

Forever will last.

I think it went something like that.”

🏷️Tag list:

@ashecampos @auliisflower @cheesysoup-arlo @frogs00 @ludoesartandstuff @pda128

💭A/N:

So…it became a bit of angst. Sorry😬 okay. G’night y’all. (Let’s pretend reader wrote that song for this fic✨)

[virdemption]

from the amount of times p-yanyan has been electrocuted by f-gongon i think she would have lightning scars,,,, she would hate them because of who gave them to her but someone would be trying to convince her they actually make her amazing bc she survived being electrocuted

i can see people askingher about it and she's like "oh yeah i got hit by LIGHTNING and i LIVED" which i guess is technically true but in reality it's The Monster's doing

[the-void-writes]

For Riley!! 🎮📚🩹🎶🔺🌈🍎💔💘😊!!!

THANK YOU SO MUCH 😁💖 I’M SO HAPPY TO TALK ABOUT THIS KID

Here’s some references for Riley. Credit to Wervty and Naylissah on Picrew for the images

🎮 What are three of your oc's favorite hobbies?

Riley loves guitar and wants to learn how to play it. He also likes exercise, even if Rio’s training gets ridiculous or excessive. To everyone’s surprise, he shows a lot of interest in studying health and medicine. Avery makes him his unofficial apprentice.

📚 What level of education has your oc most recently completed/is currently in (GED, undergraduate, grad school, phd, etc)?

Vesely has a school program for patients, so technically Riley is still getting a high-school education. The last official schooling he had was in junior-high.

🩹 Does your oc have any physical and/or mental disabilities?

I’m not sure if it counts, but since his powers generate large amounts of electricity, it scars his arms and damages the nerves. Too much use of it also starts to affect his heart.

That’s why Riley and Thomas work so well together. Thomas’ phasing means that when they touch him, the electricity can move through his body without hurting him, but he also had less control over it.

🎶 What type of music does your oc like? Do they listen to music very often?

Lots of alternative rock, stuff he can turn on during training and headbang to. He also loves the older rock that Jason listens to like Venus Wonder (the Freaks-universe equivalent of the band Queen).

🔺 Does your oc know how to use any weapons?

Aside from his powers, which generate strands of electricity, Rio teaches him how to use a staff as a conduit while he fights.

🌈 What is your oc's sexual orientation/gender identity? What pronouns do they use?

Riley is bisexual and transgender, the latter of which he is very defensive about. He won’t tolerate being called anything other than “he/him.”

🍎 Where was your oc born? Do they still live in/around their place of birth or do they live somewhere else? How do they feel about their birthplace?

Riley was born in a small town somewhere around Preston (I haven’t come up with a name lol). He hates everything about that town, from the school that bullied him, to the church that called him a demon, to the childhood home where his mother called him horrible names and forced him to wear dresses and regularly called the cops to have someone take this kid away. Thankfully, Jason and Rio were the ones to rescue him, and he’ll never have to see that town again.

💔 What are three of your oc's negative traits?

Riley is incredibly defensive to the point where he starts fights that aren’t necessary. He’s so used to pain and having his heart broken that he lashes out the minute he thinks someone is going to hurt him.

He can be grumpy, even with friends. Kevin lives and breathes to pester him, and though their banter is mostly playful, there are times where Riley says something hurtful. He always apologizes later.

He has little respect for grown-ups or authority figures. There have been days where this highly-powerful and rightfully-angry teenage boy has hospitalized trained officers by electrocuting them. The only adults he trusts are Jason and Henry, and eventually his adoptive parents (Avery gets a pass because he’s still technically a college graduate).

💘 What and/or who do(es) your oc consider the most important to them?

His friends are the most important things in his life. They welcomed him, supported him, and loved him when his family refused to. He says he would kill a man for them, even though he doesn’t really want to.

This also becomes true for his adoptive family. He doesn’t trust them to stay, at first, but he grows to love them dearly.

😊 What are your oc's career/general life desires? What do they want to get the most out of life?

Riley wants to be a doctor. Ever since Jason mentioned it as an option, ever since he showed faith that Riley could help people, Riley’s wanted to follow that path. He never thought he was capable of anything other than destruction, and now he wants to live up to the hope that Jason gave him.

[hecatombi]

001. MISC. PHYSICAL HEADCANONS

(( here is a bunch of miscellaneous physical headcanons i have about the guys, going from the ones with the least changes to the most! Vash and Chai .. are going to have a lot more due to the nature of my insane fixation on them. ))

👇THIS IS A LONG ASS POST! YOU'VE BEEN WARNED.👇

ASH WILLIAMS

Ash has five different prosthetic hands, and several chainsaw stumps to attach to his hand.

He prefers to keep his hair as swoopy and voluminous as he had it in army of darkness ( even old ash. sorry ihate his slick combed back look )

GARY GOODSPEED

Gary naturally has heterochromia and blue + brown eyes, but after his possession by invictus, they are a striking bright pink. and it's permanent! Here's a ref i drew of him with them.

Post invictus, he grows his hair out and wears a far more complicated outfit. Like the concept art for the FS graphic novel.

JOSEPH JOESTAR

On top of having a prosthetic right arm, Joseph ALSO has a prosthetic left leg. This is because of the fact that LAVA HIT HIS KNEE CAP IN THAT FINAL BATTLE WITH KARS THERE IS NO WAY THAT DIDN'T DESTROY IT BEYOND REPAIR!!!!! So, double amputee.

When he is upset or mad, Joseph's hand clicks and wriggles around every joint independantly, and it is typically the only tell that he's angry or upset in any way if he's trying to hide the fact.

Joseph's arm was made by the SPW. not. who they're from in canon. <:) On top of that, it has several different functions, and a different appearance from canon. There are 5 star shaped buttons on it with varying uses. I.. still need to decide them, though.

He is NEVER ever seen without the remaining burnt headband of Caesar's. Ever. A common stim he has is twirling the ends of it.

CHAI

Now, i have a big ol' about page coming for Chai soon, but let's start here.

To get things out of the way; Chai has HORRIFICALLY poor vision. He refuses to get glasses though, because he is certain it makes him look like a nerd. He really, REALLY NEEDS THEM though. He's more farsighted.

Chai always had arrhythmia and other heart defects before his surgery at Vandelay. On top of that, he did not have mobility in his left arm at all, which is why he went in for the arm surgery. They told him they'd help with his heart too, but ...

.. the MP3 player + core replaced his heart entirely. And also gave him top surgery for free, even though he'd been too poor to afford it, as his breasts got in the way of the core. However, his top scars are more than just that; there are thick scars, branding him with the vandelay logo down his entire torso, becauuuuse...

His insides and organs had to be reworked to physically accept such a drastic change to his body. I'm talking moved around, and more than just his heart and arm replaced with robotics.

He straight up is an eldritch, terrifying mess of organs and wires in there. He doesn't know how much of him is robotic and how much is organic anymore. I draw this from the factt hat when electrocuted, Chai's skeleton shows up -- but his skeleton also includes the magnetic waste management tool in his arm, as well as the fact that the things he survives physically NOBODY ELSE CAN. AT ALL. like jesus christ he is somehow so resilient to things literally nobody else in game is under the same circumstances. Also, his body and brain can be hacked directly from his arm. You can't do that with organics, only tech.

So... that's why I think he's more robot than person now. Or cybernetic, if you want to get technical. W/e

His life span has been extended by an unknown amount, and he will age significantly slower if at all due to this change in his body. Oh, and the outer shell of the arm is made of a compound that is not metal. Dont know what it is, but it's still just as strong and durable.

It is possible for Chai to sync with other robotic beings in the same way he synced with 808( his cat ); you have a 50/50 chance of hearing the music that always plays in his head forever, like 808 now does, OR hearing the world moving to a musical beat for the rest of your life. Until he dies, anyways -- if / when he does.

His music core is shown to thump and beat like a heart, and if it pounds hard enough, it's enough to jerk his chest and cause him to get a little dazed-- it's definitely uncomfortable when it thumps so hard. I think he watches it cause he's nervous if his heart is fucking up or something, given that was a BIG health anxiety his entire life. Only 808 managed to snap him out of it, as you can see here.

Speaking of that, post surgery? He LITERALLY can not process anything beyond music and beat he can not hear. For the rest of his life, he will always move to a beat nobody can hear; the environment makes music around him; you can see in this example here how everything in the environment and even his own movements fall largely to the beat of the song. See the video below for an example of this.

He will never be able to hear or see the world regularly again. Not that Chai minds; he LOVES music. Adores it, even. He'd be happy to live with this the rest of his life. Which is good, cause he really has to.

He picked up cat tendencies from 808 when they synchronized, just as 808 picked up chai mannerisms ( like the way he fights & love of rock and roll ). They often mirror each other because Chai is influencing 808's expression more than you'd think! They pretty much share a single braincell now.

And, to close it all off; the surgery also gave him insane durability, as already discussed.. but it ALSO gave him nuts dashing techniques, and an ability to jump to a ridiculous degree. He's a very sturdy man now!

VASH SAVEREM

Vash only LOOKS human, but as we know, he certainly ISNT. He's a Plant; an independant variety, which is exceedingly rare. Plants are strange fusions of literal plants, angels, and mechanical blueprints that all meld together to make a more techno-organic being.

Because he only LOOKS human, I have PLENTY of hc's about his body and form and how they actually differentiate from your typical human.

First and foremost; he's trans. ALL plants are born female, no exceptions, as said by canon; which makes vash canonically trans. Pretty cool, right? but, in canon, where he doesn't have this -- he has plant private parts ( flower based ) and one of his breasts left. He has no desire to bind or for top surgery, as his chest is small anyways -- but he lost one of them a long time ago. More about the state of his body later, but this is important to still note.

Now, his teeth. He has fangs that he has filed down to look smaller, but they are still pretty sharp. His teeth are NOT defined like a humans; it's like .. kind of a solid plate of metal for bone? Teeth? With only vague outlines of where they should separate.

His eyes are an unnatural piercing blue, which we already know; however, the reason he wears those big orange glasses may surprise you! They're actually marksman glasses, which are known to be orange; however, they also serve as a neutralizer to his eyes. If you look at his glasses head on, through them, his eyes look like a neutral blue-gray. However, if you take off his glasses, they're still a BRIGHTLY inhuman blue.

And yes, they glow in the dark.

In BLUE and UV LIGHT specifically, his plant marks will show no matter what. Though, in blue light, they're much fainter / mostly in the eyes ( and they make them glow as you see in the example below ), while in UV all light patterns are exposed. When he heals plants, these also become pretty visible -- but if he has too use TOO much of his angelic power, one of two things could happen.

He goes comatose and unresponsive for a short while; blank stare, unable to react or process anything around them. Sometimes he can snap out of it, sometimes he can't. It really depends.

His hair will brown or blacken. If you know what this means, have a gold star! If you don't, this means he is ACTIVELY shortening his life span and using too much of his power at once. When a plant's hair browns or blackens, it means they no longer have limitless energy.

Side note; since we see that since birth, Vash has had BROWN EYEBROWS ( whereas all plants are born with blonde hair and blonde eyebrows, and blue eyes, NO MATTER WHAT ); i have a headcanon that because Nai is based on a toxic albino plant that was never meant to live in the reboot, he subconciously saved Nai at birth. He was always the stronger twin in terms of health, where Nai was sicker.

Also .. despite his glasses being pretty normal marksman glasses, he can do this thing where he reflects everything in the environment BUT his eyes subconciously; it's a big tell that he's trying to stay distant and not let people read his next expressions. He often does this to distance himself or when he's being vague. It happens a bunch in moments specifically where he does that in show, so im adopting that as a little weird plant quirk he can do. Call it manipulation of light and reflection, I suppose, since he IS a plant...

He's way taller than he looks. He will keep continuously growing for the rest of his life til a certain point, to which his true height would be around 9 ft to 10 ft tall at the least when in humanoid form. However, as of right now, he is 7'5 in his natural body. Here's the fun part though; he actually SHIFTS HIS BONES and condenses his weight and appearance to look more humanlike, but that still leaves him at a hefty 6'5. Even despite this effort to appear smaller and more unassuming, due to the poor nutrition on Gunsmoke, nearly every human is much, much smaller than him. Unless they've been genetically and unethically modified, of course. Then they can get fucking giant . But, nobody matches his height on an average basis there.

when he's in his full 7'5 ( and growing!! ) form, his limbs are gangly, and too long. His eyes look Bigger, and his skin a little bluer; his fingertips get elongated with a black gradient like all his plant sisters. Example here.

His angel arm is something he does not bring out due to a great deal of trauma with that and knives; he does not have access to a full plant angel form. What he DOES have access to is a gigantic angel arm, and three pairs of wings; parts of his body transform into an eldritch mechanical angel kind of being, but not all of his body can. This is because of his twin, Nai / Knives having the other half. Had Nai never existed, Vash would have full access to his plant angel form. He is one of the most powerful plants of his kind with said angel arm, but ... he'd sooner kill himself than ever use it. There'sa a whole rant i have about how he feels having been forced to have it out, but .. that's for later.

Now, for this paragraph, heads up for y'all for mentions of starvation and body dysmorphia, over all bad condition of a body. The next red text you'll see is where discussion of this stops. as is pretty heavily established, Vash has a great deal of body dysmoprhia. He is absolutely letting his body fall apart at the seams, and frequently punishes himself for "failing" to protect people by starving himself, despite needing it to survive / have energy and heavily enjoying food. That is why he's so damn scrawny! Which is unfortunate, but he has so so many complexes ( shout i make a separate infodump about this too? ) tht this is just par for the course. Now, he could heal the scars and shit on his body faster if he wanted to, but he's pretty self conscious about it. He will let any humans hurt him if he deems it justified, and unforch, he usually does. He lets them beat him senseless, cut him up, shoot him -- nothing he couldn't survive, anything goes. his body is straight up canonically barely held together by thick staples and grates of metal over exposed muscle.

This is part of why he never takes off his coat, ever. Or those long sleeved shirts of his. I mean, he might to shower or clean up wounds, but...... very rarely does he do this. He just takes whatever beating humans give him cause he feels he deserves it, and deals with it.

Warning over!

With all the heavy stuff said, here's a few final short hcs.

He photosynthesizes some, and really enjoys basking in the sun.

He's a very light sleeper and rarely ever gets decent sleep. He's pretty much always exhausted, but never lets it show.

CAN'T EVER LISTEN TO CLASSICAL MUSIC. it puts him into SERIOUS triggered mode and gets him too panicked to think straight, even after Nai / Knives died.

His hair looks like normal hair, but it absolutely DOES NOT feel like it. It feels like really soft velvety flower petals, and will always keep this consistency.

He's got inhumanly amazing marksmanship, yet somehow, being drunk ( should he ever GET drunk ) improves it more. Yes, I stole this bit from 98 vash but i think it's funny and it's my interpretation so this is what i keep. ok? :)

And lastly ...

He stims by reloading and loading guns :3

Anyways, hope you guys enjoyed! Should I make a part 2 sometime? :p

[smittenroses]

Hello, I saw that you were open for requests, and if you don’t mind, could you write some general headcanons for Alva? Feel free to take your time, and have a good day :))

— General Alva Headcannons

ask box open | commissions open | hit the tip jar | Patreon | masterlist

Fandom — Identity V Pairing — none Content Warnings — PTSD, trauma, after effects of being struck by lightning/electrocuted Author's note —

Since he was ressurected, he doesn't technically need to sleep or eat anymore, however, he does get tired/exhausted if he uses a lot of energy so he can be seen doing both of these activites as they make him feel more rejuvinated.

Like Luca, he can spend hours at a time at his desk, forgetting about everything other than what he's tinkering on.

He and Ann don't have the best relationship as he views her as a rivial for their god's affections, however, he understands that their god wishes to accompany Ann for now, so he doesn't push the matter. He does get overjoyed whenever the cat does come to him though.

He still feels phantom pains from the accident. He knows it was an accident but he cannot help but crouch over in pain whenevrr they return. He has cancelled games early because they became too much for him. It's best not to talk to him during these moments as not only is he more likely to lash out at you, but he'll probably hurt you.

Large crackles of lightning sets off his flight or flight instinct. It reminds him of the accident and if he isn't braced for it he may lash out as well. It's different if he's the one creating the noise, instructing the lightning to do it, but when someone else does it it sends him into a rage.

Like Antonio, he's particular about his wine.

Friends with Robbie, was the first to find out that Robbie is an adult in a child's body (Robbie is 22 in my headcanon however acts like a child due to his trauma). The rats have bit him.

Emma unnerves him.

Fiona has tried smushing rosemary on his face bc "it'll help with the scars" (it did not help).

[inkbeanjo]

Ok, questions for Moni 1)What’s the maximum amount of time your character can sit still with nothing to do? 28) Would they prefer a lie over an unpleasant truth? 35)How do they treat the things their friends come to them excited about? Are they supportive? And for the creator- H) What trait of theirs do you admire most?

oh god uhhh 1: Barely any time- it's a small detail in chapter one, but while Spyder is doing recon there's a tab open in Moni's AR feed that's literally just a galaga emulator on pause. the girl is undiagnosed adhd as hell and finds her own enrichment if things are too quiet. 28: Absolutely a lie, she can't even bring herself to tell others simple truths- for her at least, it'd feel hypocritical to ask for simple truths instead of little lies. (totally not gonna be relevant in the not too distant future) 35: She's quick to excite and likes excuses to not be awkward or sad, so 9 times out of 10 she's supportive as hell. if it's technical or niche knowledge, as a HS dropout, she feels like she can only contribute so much conversationally- but to the credit she wouldn't give herself, she's curious enough to pick up info/otherwise learn as conversations go. H) Moni is a major comfort character for me; Growing up, I was/still am a massive fan of Gurren Lagann, as i saw it at a very low point in my life that I really really needed- the idea of someone who could push through anything and everything to achieve something, odds and despair be damned, was utterly foreign to me in my late teens. I attached to it really quickly, and wanted to be someone like that. Real life of course isn't a super mecha anime- and shortly afterward I got hit with a figurative train of additional bullshit that worsened my depression, and afterward was around the time I statted/drew Moni's first iteration (unrelated to the comic, that game kinda pittered out ;;). Just this cocky little barrens rat with a penchant for illegal chrome and destructive weaponry, who kept bouncing back despite getting shot/flamethrowered/electrocuted/stabbed/etc etc her first iteration was ironically far less competent than my second approach years later. When I took a stab at her the second time, I wasn't in much better a spot mental health wise- I wound up making her an inverse of how she'd been originally, a timid as hell and introverted mess liable to snap at relatively common atrocities in the seattle metroplex. I met some friends and played her out further, and things kind of developed from there into some of the later art you've probably seen me post, scarred up and loving every second of close quarters hyperviolence she gets to take part in. This's all set dressing and context. The trait I admire most about her is her persistence, and genuine ability to grow. No matter what bullshit I played her through, no matter what dire stuff she had to work through in personal roleplays or as a consequence of her digging into things that shouldn't be, there were single digit times she ever came close to giving up or throwing in the towel. The idea that someone as flawed and as broken as her could genuinely improve on herself/otherwise reach a point of self actualization makes me hopeful that I could do the same.

[pinktwinkiezoppo]

Ramble to me about green glow plus.

-kittenTerror

You're unleashing the beast I love you (This will be long)

They're so similar yet so different. Two green hero boys, one a ghost and one an alien

Ben and Danny were both forced to be heros at a young age which scars both of them for life, everyone has high expectations of them but their experiences as a hero are different

Ben had help with the Omnitrix, Danny had no one to help him at first. Ben was 10 when he found the Omnitrix, he's been struggling longer. Danny was 14 when he got electrocuted but his powers literally come from the fact that he's dead (which is probably worse than an alien watch that morphs your body in horrific ways)

Both are tired and depressed that they're forced into a situation they can't get out of. They understand the others struggles but not all of those struggles

Ben can be optimistic and sometimes arrogant while Danny is more calm, gloomy and occasionally stubborn which I see as a kinda "Opposite Attracts" thing but Ben and Danny obviously both like to joke around so their personalities aren't entirely different

They both got bullied, they both have small friend groups (literally they both have two best friends each), they both have a redheaded sister (Gwen is Ben's sister, fuck you) who loves and supports them, they both technically have clones who are also their siblings (Albedo is Ben's brother, fuck you), etc etc

They also both have an alternate evil future self who's main nemesis is a timelord

Their names are also kinda similar if you think about it... They also dress the same too..

Other things I think about:

Before they met Danny was actually a HUGE fan of Ben, he had merch and everything, he just thought it was relieving to know there was another teen using their powers for good (Danny also had a huge crushon him). He's still a fan but now he's dating the real thing (Ben teases him about the merch all the time tho)

They both can glow, which is the coolest thing a character can do. It's also very romantic glowing in the dark with your partner methinks

I know green is their primary color but Danny wears red when he's not in ghost form and I have a thing for red and green couples

Ben has been to space and is technically part alien, Danny's had a fascination with space ever since he was little. You can't tell me that Danny wouldn't be asking Ben about his space travels and what he's seen

And Ben technically being part Anodite, Anodites draw energy from living beings and have psychic connections with their lovers, Danny being half ghost essentially meaning he has a different sort of energy (or none at all) makes for interesting ideas

Is Ben drawn to the ghost energy? If ghosts don't have energy would Ben still be able to sense when Danny is around? I'm not smart enough to make a full analysis on this >: (

Given their jobs there's obviously a lot of risk so the two are VERY protective of each other

Danny is cold a lot of the time so he likes to snuggle Ben

Occasionally they'll call each other Benny Boo and Danny Darling but it's only when they're alone

Danny and Ben would totally do a fakeout makeout 😏

Ben and Danny's kids have the ability to have ghost AND Anodite powers so....not exactly a good thing for Ben and Danny

I should probably stop now..

[wouldntyou-liketoknow]

When a Tomb Becomes a Womb (Part 1: Rings)

Well, it’s finally happened: I wrote a story for a movie rather than YouTube Egos. (Not that this is gonna become a regular thing, mind you. Lisa Frankenstein just so happened to check all the right boxes for my hyperfixation and brainrot.) 

(Disclaimer: While I agree that Creature doesn’t really need an actual name to be a great character, I still decided to give him a headcanon name—which is Callum, since I think it would fit him— just because this entire story is from his perspective. Mentioning his "true," pre-death name just seems logical. Neither of the characters in this story belongs to me. Lisa Swallows and The Creature are the property of Zelda Williams and Diablo Cody.)

(Trigger Warnings: implied murder/death, implied violence, gore/blood, mentions of electrocution and fire, scars, body horror, dismemberment. Please let me know if I missed anything.)

The soil was loose and soft. It yielded to the shovel’s rusty spade quite easily.

Though many emotions were thrumming through Callum’s skull at the moment, surprise wasn’t one of them. 

While dark clouds had clogged up the night sky, hiding the stars and moon and bloating with rain that would fall sooner or later, the current season was warm, and so the ground wasn’t too firm. 

This plot had only been filled hours ago. This grave was fresh; infinitely fresher than his had been.

By now, Callum estimated that it’d taken at least half a day for him to crawl up through the ground and breach the surface like one of the several worms slithering around inside him.

He hadn’t exactly been in the right headspace to consider it at first; back then, all he’d been able to know was light and electricity and shuddering and pain and. . .Lisa’s words. 

Lisa’s words. 

The same thing that fueled Callum to escape his tomb was now guiding him to free Lisa from hers, all with the same amount of violent tremors and desperation.

It was poetic, honestly. 

Perhaps it would’ve been a bit more poetic if he didn’t have to get so filthy in the process.

Oh, well. He could take care of that later. (Besides, the stains on his clothes were nothing compared to the layers of grime and mold and fungus that had been caked all over him on that first, fateful night.)

Right now, unearthing his beloved without getting caught seemed like a much more important thing to focus on.

His grip was vicelike around the wooden handle as he threw one shovelful after another to the side.

Almost there, Callum thought. (If he could speak, he’d be repeating that mantra in a whisper like his life depended on it. Which. . .well, it logically didn’t, but it technically did. The same went for Lisa.) Almost there. 

He’d wanted to take her away sooner. He would’ve been perfectly fine with forcing her family to waste money on a casket. Really, what good was a casket if you buried it empty? 

But the distinct lack of a corpse would have just caused more problems. As dense as her family seemed to be, they’d still know that the shiny, glowing box (Lisa had called it a. . .tanning bed? If memory served?) wouldn’t have been capable of reducing a person to ashes no matter how dangerous it was. 

He knew she wasn’t dead. Not completely; not truly. Yes, the combination of electrical currents and fire may have worked its horrific magic on her body. . .but that magic just hadn’t followed through altogether as it probably should have. 

The way the bed had convinced foreign limbs to function as intended mere minutes after Lisa sewed them onto him. . .the way it had rejuvenated his centuries-dead flesh bit by bit. . .

It had some kind of similar effect on Lisa. The vast majority of her had died, but there was still a strong, stubborn ember of something in her that was very much determined to live. 

Callum knew that very well. He’d seen proof of it before being forced to flee from the fire.

But Lisa’s family didn’t. As far as they knew, she was gone and never coming back. So, if she just disappeared before they could bury her, then they’d have an excuse to try and track her down. And if that happened, neither she nor her husband would get another chance. . .

Callum ground his jaw, putting even more force behind the shovel. 

The hole grew deeper.

The pile of disturbed earth beside it grew bigger. 

The dull, scraping tempo of grave-robbery began to sound like hitching gasps and sobs.

Just as the clouds started ominously humming about their plans for the night, the shovel reverberated after finally, finally, finally striking something much more solid than dirt.

Callum tossed the tool aside in favor of getting down on his knees, now using his hands to clear away a blanket of finer, thinner soil. 

He hoped Lisa could hear him digging. (Though if that was the case, then the state of her brain could potentially make her think that the sounds were echoing from somewhere farther beneath her. Which would be. . .less than ideal, as Callum didn’t enjoy the idea of scaring her again. )

Even in his anxiety, he subconsciously shook his head. Lisa had taken him in and repaired him even after being initially terrified. Lisa trusted him, loved him; if she didn’t, then he never would have woken up in the first place.

More time passed, and a soft, cold gleam suddenly manifested in the darkness.

Glossy wood. 

The coffin’s upper door. 

Callum groped at the edge of it, tugging with all his strength.

An odd, warm feeling skittered up his spine and shook through his ribcage. 

A low creeeeaaak rattled through the air as the lid was pried open.

. . .And there she was.

___

Callum had always been a fast learner, and yet he still had no idea what to make of his pulse. 

It’d been extremely jarring when he’d first awoken. The days that followed, it was irregular. Sometimes he could feel it, sometimes he couldn’t. It was always soft—following more of a murmur than a steady beat—always irregular, barely there at all.

Right now, however, it both sounded and felt very far away. More present than it had been when he’d performed a highly unorthodox beheading on that stain of a man who’d upset Lisa. 

Hell, it almost seemed louder and stronger than it had been on the most recent evening he’d spent with Lisa; the one that saw the two of them embracing and reeling and dreaming together. . .

Everything else was a blur as he brought her to her new bed, carrying her like the bride she was. He had to move slowly, carefully, feeling more anxious and unwieldy than ever. 

Well, at least until he laid her down, making sure the pillow offered enough support for her neck.

After that, he was much, much more erratic.

He sprinted about the house, tearing almost every other room apart as he searched. It felt like several hours had passed by the time he finally found what he—what his beloved—needed: a white, sterile-looking container. He opened it, just to be certain, then tucked it under one arm and hurried back over to the bedroom.

Every square inch of Lisa’s body was blistered to hell and back, adorned by a network of puffy, angry-looking veins that, had her heart still been beating, would have more or less threatened to burst at any given moment. Red and raw, several sections on her arms, legs, and chest having peeled off to reveal glistening tissue.

Her mane of thick, curly auburn hair had been reduced to a few small, fried patches that clung to the charred flesh of her scalp with a strength similar to bubblegum and well-intentioned vibes. There was a possibility that she’d died with her eyes open, but the awful swelling of the skin around their sockets had sealed them shut. 

None of that mattered, of course. 

Lisa was still just as beautiful as when Callum had first met her. She always, always would be. 

. . .Even so, those injuries had to be dealt with. Despite what Lisa had said before about accepting a person’s flaws, Callum’s instincts told him she wouldn’t appreciate being left to resemble a puppet made of half-raw-half-cooked steaks.

Callum set the medical kit down on the nightstand, ferreting out generous rolls of gauze as he loomed over the side of the bed. 

The world finally seemed to slow back down as he got to work.

It didn’t take long for him to find a gentle, precise cadence as he wrapped bandage after bandage after bandage around his beloved’s form. Something in the back of his mind wondered if this was what spiders felt like when they spun strands of silk together to make their webs.

Although Lisa’s skin hadn’t been rendered translucent, the burns in some places went deep enough for Callum to catch a glimpse of her organs. Both of her lungs were blackened, seared, sunken. Her heart was equally misshapen, now boasting a similar appearance to a blob of melted wax, looking like it was seconds away from collapsing in on itself. 

But even as all the carnage was swallowed up by more strips of gauze, Callum could still see the heart twitch. The movement only lasted for half a second or so, but there was no doubting that it’d happened. . .

Lisa still had a chance. She would never be truly alive again, but she could still come back.

She couldn’t wake up by herself. . .but she wouldn’t have to.

He’d find a way to help, just as she’d done for him. 

Callum blinked for the first time all night, and his hands were suddenly free; he was suddenly sitting at the foot of the new bed.

Lisa was cloaked quite literally from head to toe in clean, snow-white bandages. It was like he'd made the perfect combination of shroud and wedding dress for her to wear.

The thought made a small smile tug at his lips. 

Then he shook his head.

He couldn’t relax just yet. There were other things to be taken care of right now. Two other things, to be specific. 

Callum got to his feet and crossed the new bedroom to quietly close the door. He ventured down a narrow hallway, peering at an assortment of unfamiliar pictures hanging on the walls around him. Disposing of them would probably be another chore for him later.

His footsteps sounded hollow and heavy as he descended the staircase. (Unlike Lisa’s former home, the floors of this house were all hardwood rather than carpet. True, they wouldn’t muffle noise very well, but it was still quite a lucky coincidence.) 

He’d found this house completely by accident, when he’d still been trying to follow Lisa’s path. 

Even with the remnants of that lightning bolt sparking in his stagnant blood, even with Lisa’s voice echoing through his resurrected mind, it’d still taken so much time for him to truly wake up. He grimaced at the thought of how long he’d had to crawl around the cemetery before he could stand upright. 

(And that wasn’t even mentioning the state his vision had been in. The layers of rancid slime and dirt clinging to his face had made everything around him blurry and distorted. The fact that his eyes were also full of maggots at the time certainly hadn’t helped.)

He’d had to wander the surrounding woods for hours and hours before he could finally walk. The rot in his bones had kept his movement slow and uneven, but a bad limp was still better than collapsing every other moment. 

Callum wasn’t sure how the house’s previous owners hadn’t seen or heard him that night. They certainly had a few hours ago, but that wasn’t a factor anymore. 

He crept into the living room, where he paced a few slow circles around the fresh corpse lying in the center of all the controlled chaos. The crimson splatters now adorning the floor, the walls, the sofa’s floral print almost seemed to glitter.

Another carcass could be found just a few feet away, sprawled across the wide threshold that led into the dining room. The face was obscured, as blood was still leaking out to add to a large puddle that continued to slowly spread, inch-by-inch. 

Callum folded his arms across his chest, drumming the nails of his replacement hand against his cheek. He remembered what Lisa had said when he’d silently begged her to help him find new parts; a contemplative murmur about there being bad people in the world. . .

Her relief and gratitude when he’d bludgeoned that horrible excuse for a mother to death.

Her cathartic happiness when he’d dismembered the scum who’d tried to put his filthy hands on her.

Her tearful joy when she eventually realized why he’d risked so much to take a particularly crucial piece from the ignoramus who’d dared to play with her emotions. . .

It had all been so wonderful to see.

Those victims had all hurt Lisa, and they likely would've hurt others as well. Their deaths wouldn’t be an actual loss to the community.

But this. . .

Lisa definitely wouldn’t have approved of this. Yes, she’d understand why Callum had done what he’d done; after everything they’d been through, of course the two of them needed a quiet place to stay, if only for a while until they found somewhere better. A place that was a fair distance from both the town and the cemetery. A place just like this.

But. . .

A raspy sigh escaped Callum’s lips. 

He'd work with more tact in the future. 

Once Lisa was awake, things would be better. He’d listen to her input. They would make important decisions together.

Callum’s eyes wandered about, eventually settling on the axe—the same one Lisa had taken from her father’s garage—he’d left propped up against the adjacent wall. It was slathered in gore, to the point that its wooden handle was just as red as the paint on its blade. 

He approached to pick it up, letting the weapon’s belly rest on his shoulder. Then he stooped down, using his free hand to take hold of the first corpse’s wrists. More of the floor was painted red as he dragged it into the kitchen. He retraced his steps to collect the second body, coming dangerously close to slipping on the blood as he hefted his victim onto the countertop.

The next hour or so was filled with dull thuds, with splintery pops and cra-A-a-cks, with the drip-drip-drip of thick fluid oozing down the lower cabinets and plopping onto the floor. 

The axe was too heavy to be the most precise tool, but it was still efficient. It only took a few good swings to sever limbs from torsos and heads from necks. 

Callum couldn’t bury either of these bodies. Not right away, at least. Fortunately, he soon discovered that there were more than enough black trash bags under the sink to work with. 

Lisa’s body obviously needed repair, but he wasn’t sure which repairs should come first. (He knew she’d require a new pair of eyes, but he didn’t want to risk forcing her current ones open just yet.) Would it be better to take off her old limbs and put new ones in their place, or to simply slice off layers of skin and attach a new barrier to her burnt flesh?

Wait and see, a voice in his head suggested. Callum nodded to himself; when Lisa was able to communicate again, he’d organize these plans with her. It was only right, after all. 

Callum set the axe down by the sink, now focusing on wrapping up the detached pieces of human in tight, layered cocoons that crinkled with every second. Packing all the bundles into the freezer and refrigerator in a way that kept them from sliding right back out was far more aggravating than he would’ve cared to admit, but he managed. 

He gave pause, however, when it came to the two remaining pieces. 

A pair of forearms, to be specific, with their hands still attached. 

One from each corpse. 

Something small and metallic glinted around the fourth finger on each of them. 

The first ring had a very simple design: just a smooth, golden band. 

The second ring, meanwhile, was silver, mounted with a shiny stone.

It wasn’t a diamond by any means. Callum couldn’t tell what kind of gem it was, honestly. But it was gorgeous—it’d been carved into a smooth, perfect orb. It reminded him of an ember at the heart of a firepit, boasting a graceful mix of orange and red with a few soft hints of yellow.

The colors reminded him of that one night. 

Callum shoved the forearms into hiding with all the other parts, the two rings now nestled in his palm. With that, he exited the kitchen, an unfamiliar spring in his step as he ventured back up the staircase. Yes, he still had an enormous bloody mess to clean up, but this took priority. 

His odd, partial heartbeat echoed in his ears as he re-entered the new bedroom and knelt down beside the bed. 

Slowly, delicately, Callum took one of Lisa’s hands in his. He pressed a small kiss to her bandaged knuckles before sliding the new ring onto her finger. 

It fit perfectly. Just like the gold ring did for him. 

As for the odd-yet-sweet candy loop he’d made do with for the original proposal. . .well, he decided to leave it on the nightstand. 

Just in case Lisa wanted to keep it when she woke up.

@mblume125 @upstartgeek @paper-cuts-and-fresh-bruises @queenofcandys @magpierose753 @therulerofallpotatos @blue-spider-official @chofisaquino @strangewerewolf @alienbactria @aphroditeinarms @weallpartyatybcpatricksfuneral @scootis-the-scoot. @cherryycocaine @sammispook @creepycrow31 @radisyn @allthesecottoncandyskies @that-random-assassin @shelf-life-of-the-party @big-sad-world @lisascreatures @we-were-d3stined-t0-expl0de @artnormal @cr-0-wsworld @bllops-world @night-writer-writer @bunnygirlgracesworld @occasional-trash @a-live-wire @babi-gir @secretly-larry-daley @fawns-things @confused-hufflepuff-screaming

[fenris-morant]

○ Fenris Morant is the only name I know... maybe... or am I Sirius? I don't know...

○ 26... I think...?

○ Male (he/Him)

○ Demisexual

○ Mercenary for hire... I think... maybe? Or maybe not... I can't remember. But that's what I've been doing...

"Memory taps a gun to your inner scull and demands you bring back the dead."

○ Mun is 21

○ Blog is 16+

○ No Homophobes, Transphones, Racists, TERFs or any of the sort here please.

○ Mun also runs: These Accounts :3

○●○More Info Under The Cut●○●

Introduction Info

○ Name: Fenris morant. (Probably) He does not know if this is his real name, but it was one of the names on the dogtags he woke up with.

○ Nicknames: Fen, Ri, Ris

○ Titles: Wolfsbane, named after the deadly plant due to his name association with Fenrir

○ Age: 26, maybe, which he only knows from the birthday note he found on his person from this mysterious "Sirius" person. Though he could just as easily be this "Sirius," in that case he doesn't know.

○ Gender: Male (he/him)

○ Sexuality: Demisexual

○ Job: Mercenary, Hitman, Assasin, anything that involves the murder of others.... maybe. Can also be hired for protection.

○ Fandom: Multi Fandom (probably DC/Marvel)

Appearence Info

○ Height: 5'11"

○ Hair: Thick, Volumous, charcoal black hair that is shaved on one side, and completely swept to the non-shaved side. It's grown just past his shoulder blades and kept out of the way in a bunch, but will let it down on his down time.

○ Eyes: Storm blue eyes that are very sharp, lidded, and rather dead looking, with no light in them at all.

○ Body type: Fit, though lean, built for speed fighting and flexibility.

○ Skin: Far but tanned over the years. Many scars all over his body from his job, and lots of moles as well, including a beauty mark under his left lip.

○ Identifiable features: a permanent Litchtenburg scar along the upper left side of his body, mostly along back and arm, but also goes up his neck and part of his face. This scar tends to glow and crackle when using his abilities. He has a bar piercing on his right eyebrow, as well as both ears.

○ Clothing Style: Nothing too identifiable, mostly black simple clothes, though tends to lean into more tactical clothes for his job.

Powers Info

Lightning Charge

○ Fenris has the ability to change his body, or parts of his body, into lightning. This allows him to avoid physical attacks, travel at lightning fast speeds, and enhance physical capabilities. Notably, he can travel through wires, and is immine to electrocution.

Tempest

○ Fenris also has the ability to manipulate ND create electrical storms, and conjure lightning from the clouds.

Miscellaneous Info

○ Fenris has amnesia, and can only remember things from up until a year and a half ago. There was very little of his life he could put together, if any at all.

○ Fenris has a mild Kiwi allergy.

○ Technically speaking, Fenris is homeless, as he tends to travel too much anyways. He mostly just lives between motel rooms.

[synthwavecryptid]

🍞 Fun Toast facts:

The branching mark on his face is a Lichtenberg scar, and goes all down his neck + back to his hip. It’s from electrocution ⚡️

The other facial scars (and broken nose) are from getting his helmet visor smashed. He’s lucky he didn’t get blinded tbfh

He says the scar on his chin is from a bar fight. In reality, he tripped. Bless him

He and Ashe are both ARCs, but Ashe technically outranks him. Toast got slapped with demerits when Bacara got sick of him and transferred his ass LMAO

Despite being an officer, Toast thinks it’s insanely funny and/or cute when troopers call him sir.

He would frontline a GAR version of Jackass.

Free-use incredibly sweet slightly sub top- I mean WHO SAID THAT

POV: toast trying to convince ashe to something stupid as fuck (it’s not working. or is it)

[jackyjackdraws]

Monochrome Commission for @elishevart

This big monster's got some big hugs to share

(Like what you see? Consider commissioning me!)

[jinxed-ninjago]

Side affects of Kai, Cole, Jay, and Zane’s powers because I’m bored or something

Kai’s almost constantly hungry. Fire needs to be fed on a near constant basis, and this made its way into Kai. Kai’s aquaphobia also comes from being the master of fire, since water puts out fire (I mentioned this in my “How different weather affects the elemental masters of creation” post). He also has a higher body temperature than an average human, so it takes a little longer for a fever to get to emergency levels for him. He also heats up the area around him if he’s upset.

While Jay has a higher tolerance for being electrocuted compared to other people, he’s not immune to it. If he’s not careful, he can electrocute himself to the point of going to the ER (this is mildly supported by Jay being able to shock himself awake when he’s asleep). Being electrokinetic also means he can control electrical signals in his nervous system; sometimes this is a good thing, sometimes it’s a bad thing (as controlling electrical signals means he will not hesitate to cut off the electrical signals that cause pain, and y’know, pain exists for a reason). This is canon but if he’s upset he also starts sparking (although I like to think it happens if he gets super excited too).

Cole is technically geo-thermokinetic, and not exclusively geokinetic. He’s partially immune to being burned by small amounts of lava/magma, but if he was to, for example, try to swim in it, he’d still end up with at least second degree burns, if not third degree burns. He also has scars where his arms turn to magma when he uses his Earth Punch ability.

Zane had to learn how to properly control his powers after he rebuilt himself. If he got too upset, it’d mess up his internal mechanics, and he’d end up in the Samurai X cave being taken care of by either Nya or Jay. If he’s upset, the surrounding area’s temperature drastically decreases, to the point of needing to wear a jacket around if he’s upset for longer than a few minutes.