#body burnt

[rightnewshindi]

प्रयागराज में दिल दहलाने वाली घटना: दलित युवक की हत्या के बाद शव जलाने की कोशिश, 6 लोग हिरासत में

Uttar Pradesh News: प्रयागराज के यमुना नगर में एक ऐसी वारदात सामने आई है, जिसने इंसानियत को झकझोर कर रख दिया। करछना थाना क्षेत्र के इटौरा गांव में एक दलित युवक की कथित तौर पर हत्या कर उसके शव को जलाने की कोशिश की गई। इस घटना ने स्थानीय समुदाय में आक्रोश और दुख की लहर दौड़ा दी है। पुलिस ने मामले में त्वरित कार्रवाई करते हुए छह लोगों को हिरासत में लिया है और जांच शुरू कर दी है। घटना का…

[ddosq]

Highland Warrior of the MacTavish Clan ⚔️

(full piece here)

[nevesceramics]

Sun Worshipper (Empire)

cone 6 stoneware, underglaze, iron oxide wash

[sparrowlucero]

this is the iconic dinosaur horror jurassic park wishes it was

[thejudeduarte]

I've just realised that I'm basically expecting Eli to resurrect and still be present in victorious so if he's definitely dead and definitely not in the book I don't know what I'm gonna do

[broareweabouttoviberightnow]

the quietest week in tusla was the week Darry bundled all seven boys up in two cars n drove them all a million miles away to the nearest beach. On contrast, the most disruptive week in tusla was the week immediately followin.

[rockpaperscissuhs]

The Pacific Episode 7: Peleliu Hills

for HBO WWII Rewatch: Week 10 - Black

[the-broken-pen]

“You’re going to blow out your arms,” the villain observed. They watched as the hero merely grit their teeth, shoving themself through another pull-up. It looked painful, and if the sweat slicking the hero’s brow was any indication, it was.

They waited for the hero to let themself drop from the bar and accept the villain was stronger. But they didn’t.

Three more pull-ups, and the villain stepped in.

“Hero,” they said slowly. “You’re about to tear the ligaments in your arms. You need to stop.”

The hero blew out a shuddering breath. Struggled for purchase, fighting gravity—and let themself drop.

The hero’s hands were bleeding, calluses torn open by the bar. The hero didn’t seem bothered when their own hands shook so much that their blood began to splatter on the gym floor.

For a moment, the villain could only stare at them.

Shit.

They didn’t know how to handle this. They knew the hero was dedicated. They knew the hero was strong, and perpetually trying to be stronger, but they hadn’t thought…

They hadn’t thought the hero would be so willing to tear apart their own body for success.

It was supposed to be fun, the villain thought. They felt a little sick as the hero pressed their palms together to soothe the bleeding, an action that was practiced and familiar. As if they had done this before.

The hero reached for something in their bag, smearing blood on the side, and pulled out a roll of blue electrical tape. The villain didn’t understand why, until the hero tore a strip off and made to wrap their hands with it.

The hero would be the death of them.

They crouched in front of the hero, plucking the electrical tape out of their hands.

“What are you doing with this?”

The hero blinked at the villain like they were the strange one in this situation.

“Wrapping my hands?”

The villain hissed in a breath.

“With electrical tape?”

The hero flushed slightly, looking down at their bloody hands. They looked close to tears.

“It…sticks to skin, really well. And it doesn’t move, either, when you move your hands or wherever else, even if you’re fighting. Plus, blood doesn’t make it come off, at least, not for a while.”

The villain blinked at them.”

“Blood doesn’t make it come off,” the villain repeated, processing. The hero nodded, reaching for the electrical tape. The villain settled it out of reach.

“Not if you wrap it right.”

Dimly, the villain realized that meant the hero had done this enough times to have it down to a science.

“And you couldn’t use a bandaid?” The villain asked incredulously. The hero shrugged a shoulder, then winced at the motion.

Yeah, the hero had absolutely blown out their arms.

“Bandaids move—“

The villain hushed them.

“Be quiet for a second.”

The hero, wisely, went quiet.

The villain rubbed a hand over their face, then studied the hero for a moment. They took one of the hero’s hands into their own, studying the damage.

“Why did you do this to yourself,” the villain murmured.

“What do you mean, why,” the hero snapped. “It’s my job.”

“Your job is to save people,” the villain corrected. “Not destroy yourself.”

“I’m not destroying myself—“

“You are.”

“Shut up—“

“Hero.”

“I need to be better,” the hero snapped. Their voice rang out across the gym, echoing into the rafters, and they both froze. After a moment, the hero spoke again, voice soft. “I need to be better.”

They said it like they needed the villain to understand. The villain wondered who they were really saying it to—the villain, or themself.

“Better than who?”

“Everyone.” It was hushed, like a secret.

The villain watched them, waiting.

The hero took a shaky breath

“My whole thing is being the best. I have always been the best. That’s the only reason I matter. If I’m not strong enough, then I am nothing, so I need. to be. better.”

The hero had started crying, very quietly, like they were afraid to take up too much space.

The villain was not equipped to handle gifted kid burnout.

“There’s more to you than just being a good athlete,” the villain said hesitantly, and the hero shook their head.

“No. There isn’t.”

“Hero.”

“Can you give me back my electrical tape?” They hiccuped to contain a sob.

“No,” the villain said firmly, and then the hero really was sobbing.

“You don’t understand—“

The villain didn’t. Not really. They had never been the kind of talented that the hero was.

They wondered now if maybe that was a blessing.

“I don’t,” the villain agreed. “But I do understand that you’ve saved half the city, and you give everything you have to give, and you always do your best.”

“But I-“

“No.” The villain stopped them. “You are doing your best.” They tipped the hero’s chin up until they met the villain’s eyes. “And it is enough.”

The hero froze, eyes darting over the villain’s face. They wondered if anyone had ever said that to the hero, if whatever mentor they had was giving them anything other than orders to be stronger. Be better. Be more.

The villain had some new targets to take care of, it would seem.

For now, though, they had to take care of hero.

“We’re going to go wrap your hands,” they said softly. “And then we’re going to take care of your arms, and you’re going to take a nap.”

The hero nodded, watching them like they were some kind of good, selfless person.

“And if I ever catch you using electrical tape again, so help me, I will put you six feet under.”

That startled a laugh out of the hero, and they let the villain guide them to their feet.

“Fine.”

The villain turned to them. “Okay?”

Are you going to be alright?

The hero seemed to understand.

“Okay,” the hero agreed.

Yes.

And so, it was.

[theinsomniacindian]

In theory, I'm dark academia. In practice, I'm chaotic academia

[aphidclan-clangen]

[cravingstudyvalidation]

21/7/2024 rotting instead of studying for my exams which are in 2 weeks :D

🎧- seize the power, yonaka

[clovreat3r]

BLOOD UNDERNEATH WATCH OUT RAHHHH

Tord after painfully peeling off his bandages after the disaster of a comeback with the gang

at least he got to borrow some comfy sweatpants though- oh yeah and a new eye!

[cherrypuppyy]

I feel like I need to give him a fit upgrade tbh.

(Me scrambling for ideas to design cool clothes for burnt nex. Am still searching but just had an idea to doodle this lol.

Close up and silly lil hc under.

(Whenever I draw nexus there's a voice inside my head saying: make him twilight sparkle....., I swear it's the cutiemark making me go I wanna draw nex as a pretty lil princess dkdjd lol)

Hologram hat/hands? I feel like he could do so much more with his telekinesis 👀....

[random-lil-illing]

my man, the projectionist!! somehow he had a bigger role than sammy in the dark revival.

[ghostlyglimmer]

Ectoberweek Day 31: He thought he'd been prepared to take off the mask on the hazmat suit and see what he looked like underneath. He couldn't have been more wrong.

Summary:

He thought he'd been prepared to take off the mask on the hazmat suit and see what he looked like underneath. He couldn't have been more wrong. The portal messed him up more than he thought.

Notes:

Finally finished Ectoberhaunt/Ectoberweek! I am SO PROUD OF MYSELF! This is the first time I've ever done an october/danny phantom event and I did EVERY DAY! A huge feat for me aaaaaa ;0;

Danny stood in front of the mirror, his fingers trembling as they hovered over the fasteners of his hazmat suit. His heart pounded in his chest, the rhythm unnatural, more of a low thrum than a proper beat. He had convinced himself that he was ready for this, that after weeks of sleepless nights, of nightmares and flashes of what had happened in the portal, he could finally face the truth.

Just a glance, he told himself. A brief peek to confirm that he was still himself under all of this — under the glowing eyes, the strange strength, and the eerie stillness of his pulse. It was just a precautionary suit, after all, something to contain his energy when he fought ghosts. At least, that’s what he had convinced himself it was. But now, as his fingers slowly undid the clasp, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something terrible awaited him beneath.

The latch clicked open, and Danny felt his breath hitch in his throat. He wasn’t breathing, not really — not since the accident. He was pretending to breathe. The reality of that settled in the pit of his stomach, cold and unyielding, like a stone lodged where his warmth should be.

With a slow, deliberate motion, Danny peeled the suit away from his body. His eyes, glowing a harsh ectoplasmic green, locked onto the mirror.

At first, he saw that he had unusual pale skin, the white hair that had replaced his once-dark locks, and the faint glow that always seemed to cling to him in his ghost form. But as the suit fell away completely, his reflection twisted. Shifted.

His skin… no, it wasn’t skin anymore.

Danny’s breath—or the shallow imitation of it—caught in his throat. His face, his chest, his arms, his entire body, charred and burned, was revealed. Blackened skin, cracked and mottled like the surface of scorched earth, stretched over his bones. Green ectoplasm pulsed through the cracks, like veins of molten fire running just beneath his surface. His fingers twitched, and the motion caused flakes of charred flesh to crumble from his hands, only to be replaced by more seeping ectoplasm.

Oh God.

His eyes widened, horror seizing him as he stumbled back, hitting the bathroom wall. His reflection followed, the sickening reality of what he’d become staring back at him. This wasn’t just a ghost form. This wasn’t just some new transformation.

This was him — his real body.

“What… what the hell…” Danny whispered, though his voice cracked, barely audible. He reached a shaking hand toward his face, his fingers brushing against the charred remains of his cheek. The sensation was numb, like touching something distant, not really his own skin. His heart, that dull thrumming echo of a heartbeat, sped up, each pulse a painful reminder of the accident in the ghost portal.

Memories flooded back in fragmented flashes. The screams, the burning sensation, the searing light that had enveloped him when the portal had torn open and ripped through his body. He had never really seen what he looked like after the accident — he’d never wanted to. He had convinced himself that his ghost form was just another side of him, a reflection of his powers, of the energy that had saved him from the brink of death.

But he hadn’t been saved.

He had died.

The boy who had entered that portal was dead, reduced to ash and embers. What stood before him now was something else entirely—something that only wore Danny Fenton’s face when the hazmat suit was on. But beneath it, there was nothing human left.

Just this… charred, hollow corpse.

Danny’s legs gave out beneath him, and he slid to the floor, his back pressed against the cold tile wall. He clenched his eyes shut, trying to block out the sight of his twisted reflection, but he couldn’t unsee it. The truth had sunk in, deep into his core.

He was no longer the boy who lived. He was the boy who had died. Everything since that accident, everything he had tried to hold onto—his family, his friends, his life—had been a lie. Phantom wasn’t just a mask or a persona. It was all that remained.

He let out a shaky breath, or at least tried to. It caught in his throat, more of a rasp than anything else. What would his parents say if they saw him like this? If they knew the truth of what had happened to their son? Would they even recognize him as Danny, or would they see him as just another ghost — just another monster to be hunted and destroyed?

He pressed his hand to his chest, feeling the unnatural smoothness of his charred skin, the faint vibration of ectoplasm flowing beneath it like blood. It was a grotesque mockery of life. He wasn’t healing, wasn’t recovering from this. This was him now. This was all he had left.

Tears pricked at his eyes, but even they were tinged green, drops of ectoplasm that burned as they rolled down his cheeks. He looked up at his reflection once more, his glowing eyes locking with the hollow, scorched thing staring back at him.

And for the first time since the accident, Danny Phantom understood just how much he had truly lost.

He wasn’t prepared to take off the mask — not now, not ever. Because the mask, the suit, the human skin he hid behind, was all that kept him tethered to the life he so desperately wanted to return to.

But the truth had always been waiting beneath. A truth as blackened and charred as the body he now inhabited.

And now, there was no hiding from it.

[star-stages]

Saw some Sonic au posts and this guy popped up, I'm weak for blues, cyans and greys, so here is a gift for @cattyanon

This October is a perfect time to draw him. I apologize if I got any details wrong. >< converting the quills to fire shapes was a challenge