#brain leakage

[frnkiebby]

ALSJSKJDJDJEJDJS

THE THIRD ONE PLS

he looks like his brain is gonna start leaking out of his ears he’s so done lmfao~🎃

[razek-praxis]

If my friendship has ever meant anything to you, if you love me, and you're able to, please please stream A Murder at The End of The World. It begins airing on the 14th on Hulu and Disney+. The success of the series is vital and is important to me. Thank you.

[sleepingwithinkink2-0]

I space Cadet

lost files # 81

rumblings of a lost astronaut

/////)//)//)-&

t's six forty In the morning, day breaks through the window... A dull grey, numbing the senses with dread. November is the worst. Neither dead or alive .. The clouds seem sick and heavy... Unlike those of thunderstorms.. whose clouds are dark grey, alive ...

I lay awake listening to the white noise as my mind goes rogue... My thoughts run deep. Deep beneath the catacombs of flesh into the human genome. We all are made up of the same material , yet we are all unique...They say you never meet the same person twice. It's probably why I never left here...It's why I love my friends. My thoughts stray....to perspective, how our thoughts shape our reality. I wonder if anyone else ponders the cosmos. Human consciousness. Fate. Time. The unknown. Why do I fade in and out, detached ..Every action that is set into motion, mentally or physically has a reaction like chemicals in the brain. Lately I've been staying up longer. I question myself, standing before the tempest of "I" Maybe I'm worried, even if I don't speak it out loud. It's there festering in the dark parts of my consciousness I just have to listen through the static in the grey matter ..With a curious mind, and sharp eyes it's hard not to see what people try to hide... It's in their posture they're mannerisms all you have to do is look...

How I looked..

. Sometimes I wonder if it's better to be oblivious, not to feel people's sadness...Yet I think of all the beautiful things I've seen. The beautiful souls I've crossed on my adventures .

Do people sneeze when they're re sleeping ? And if not why don't they? My Google search history 😆

Blah blah brain and thoughts , stardust

-DannySheehan

11/20/24

[mrkanman]

guy who has a cold: i have a cold

[friendofhayley]

.

[thevegetablewhichnoonedaresname]

.

[reasonandempathy]

Researchers have discovered that leaky blood vessels, together with a hyperactive immune system may be the underlying cause of brain fog in people with long covid. They suggest their discovery is important for the understanding of brain fog and cognitive decline – difficulty with thinking, memory or concentration – seen in some people with the condition. It is hoped the findings will help with the development of treatments in the future.

To Summarize:

Long Covid sufferers experience symptoms like forgetfulness and concentration issues due to leakiness in brain blood vessels, according to research findings.

Scientists from Trinity College Dublin and FutureNeuro confirm that Long Covid patients with brain fog have disrupted blood vessels in their brains, making the neurological symptoms measurable.

Blood vessel leakage in the brain, along with an overactive immune system, may be the key drivers of brain fog in Long Covid patients, leading to potential changes in understanding and treating post-viral conditions.

I can't find a single right-wing news source covering this.

[ciboriaadastra]

oh this is the funniest pose I've seen today

Batman: Kings of Fear (2018) #1

The fear gas immediately broke his bones, so sad...

[kid--stardust]

when i was 14 or 15, during a camping trip (on the night of a thunderstorm no less, jeeze) i managed to fall asleep amidst the din and had a homestuck dream

I was in what looked like the same area of the mountains I was camping in, but the campsite was gone and many of the large trees around me were gone as well (as though they had been clear-cut and left only stumps). I was standing, I think, in the shelter of those trees when Rose fucking Lalonde flew up to me in full godtier garb. She said something urgent to me that like 10 years later I really don't remember, but it prompted me to fly out from between the trees and join Dave, who was holding Karkat, above the clear-cut. I knew we were waiting for someone, and I believe even Jade was there eventually, but the dream faded into me looking into an orb. Or.. I guess AT an orb, which was hollow and had the battlefield under Skaia reflected in the glass. Inside the glass sphere was a little flame, and some intuition or another (the first person equivalent of item descriptions i guess) told me it was the Orb of Ember, which could reignite any dormant or extinct volcanoes. Of course I knew what to do with it, but before i could even grab the damn thing I woke up again

[razek-praxis]

I just used all of my money to pay for a storage unit because Im moving house, and I was supposed to leave today so I didn't think I'd need to worry about food my sister has changed her mind and I'm alone now for the weekend. I don't have any money or food If anyone can help Id really appreciate it

I have both cashapp and paypal

The username for both is razekpraxis

[leonsdolly]

Dog Days

Leon Kennedy x fem!reader

Synopsis: You're sick, but Leon's here to take care of you.

CW: fluff, comfort

WC: 785

A/n: looks like everyone's sick rn !!! ruru, this one's for you since you also got sick (╥﹏╥) sending you all the love and best wishes so that you can feel better @laceycoffins (๑-﹏-๑)

“Leon…” Your whines fly weakly through the room and hit your boyfriend’s ears in the living room. “Leonnnn…” It takes everything in you to muster up enough energy to call out his name.

You hear a sigh before the sound of his footsteps make their way to your shared bedroom. “Everything okay, baby?” He internally coos at the sight of you laying in bed with a cool rag over your forehead and thin covers pulled up to your chest. You’re like a woodland creature of sorts, a little dormouse curled up snugly in its burrow for the winter. Except it isn't winter. The scorching early July sun looms over the city, ready to penetrate through your lace curtains and exacerbate the fever plaguing your body. You pout up at him as you feebly lift your arms out for him.

“What do you need, baby?” He chuckles as he takes one of your hands in his. “Just brought you more fluids, changed that washcloth, made your bed ‘til you said it was comfy enough.”

“I need you,” you say like it's the most obvious thing in the world. Which it is. Did he really expect his needy girl to recover through her illness without being pressed up against him 24/7? Would he also let her succumb to the bubonic plague, damning her to a burial pit on the outskirts of a European city in the 14th century? He sighs and lifts the washcloth on your forehead to feel it with the back of his hand. He turns his hand over to rub soothingly at your forehead, and suddenly you're a child again, relishing in your mother's healing touch over your little ailing body while her dramas blare in the background and the aroma of spicy noodle soup invigorates you. You close your eyes, relishing in the relief of his cool touch against your warmed skin. He lifts the blanket up to slide in next to you, and when you open your eyes again, he's wrapping his arms around you.

“Weren't you bitching about how you can't get sick right now?” You snuggle against him, enraptured by the way his warm breath hits the top of your head when he chuckles.

“You’re a pain, you know that?” He drops a kiss on your hair. “Can’t have my baby suffering, that's all there is to it. Even if your snot gets all over me.”

“Whatev-” your croak is intercepted by a coughing fit that erupts from within your lungs.

“Sound like the exorcist girl.”

“You have such a way with words.” You bat your eyes like you’re really head over heels for this man. Which you are.

“Look like her too,” he says pointedly at the god-awful leakage dripping from your nostrils.

“When his love language is words of affirmation.”

He grunts as he snakes an arm over to pluck a lone tissue from the nightstand and pinches your nose with it. “Blow.”

“You know I don’t ever say no to that,” you joke as you close your eyes and force the air to expel through your clogged sinuses and into the flimsy tissue Leon holds.

“Now you sound like a lawn mower. Or a chainsaw.” He tosses the tissue into a spare plastic bag you’re using for trash before vigorously sanitizing his hands which makes you giggle.

You tuck your face into his chest, feeling the cooling fabric against your flushed cheeks. Nothing is quite more miserable than falling ill alone during the hottest months of the year. He’s your relief against the hazy summer world just outside your windows, threatening to seep in and shake your body’s best efforts to maintain homeostasis. Your symptoms are alleviated by his mere presence, and his hands are the most effective treatment in your frail state. His familiar scent envelopes your senses even through your congestion, whispering words of reassurance into the depths of your brain like you’re that little girl laying in your mother’s soft arms again. The bottle  of generic acetaminophen laying on your nightstand fails in efficacy when Leon’s around.

“Love you,” you mumble against his shirt as he repeats it back, and you cling to him for all that you’ve got in your weakened condition. This is your source of wellness, your reason for waking up every morning and braving through the travails of life. The love is mutual - you’re his sole reason for fighting. There’s a plethora of horrors alive and breathing in this world that you’ll never have to witness; he’ll make sure of that until he’s drawn his last breath. But for now, he’s content in just holding you close while the summer heat rages on outside the walls of your home.

[temis-de-leon]

Obey Me and Lonely MC

How I imagine the very few moments before MC was summoned to the Devildom

Gender neutral reader (please correct me If I'm wrong)

Masterlist

CW: angst, panicking and body pain, nothing explicit, college student MC sharing apartment, shitty college experience, lonely MC but the sad type of lonely, they're kinda depressed. Diavolo, Barbatos and Lucifer welcome MC, but they're barely there

Please enjoy!

.

You only had time to close the door before the floor under your feet started sinking like quicksand, bending in waves and violently shaking your body.

Everything beyond the entrance seemed completely normal: the wood was as hard as it could be and the tiles shone as they always did, yellow and cheap thanks to the faded lights in the apartment.

Still, nothing there was brighter than whatever the fuck was illuminating your body from underneath. Where exactly you weren't sure, but it came from below.

It was weird.

It was too much.

You threw your backpack away from you, your computer possibly breaking with the fall under the weight of multiple books, before rummaging through all your pockets in search of your phone.

There had to be someone you could call. Someone. Anyone.

The blood pumped in you ears and your fingers struggled to unlock the screen while you screamed your roommates' names with a trembling voice.

You were alone.

How in fucking hell could you be alone?

Maybe you were dreaming or hallucinating! Stress could do that to you, right? Exams had been hectic those days and your sleeping habits had been disastrous for weeks, often leaving you empty at best and anhedonic at worst. That had to be it! Your brain was malfunctioning due to sleep depravation and high cortisol levels, also causing a decrease in balance and a permanent state of alert.

You were unnecessaryly panicking because your body was tired. It was as simple as that.

You. Were. Fine.

So you let your knees give up, wincing a little when they hit the floor. Your coat, always your favourite, was warm as a blanket and taking it off felt like a herculean task.

Your body followed its own weight, leaning forward until your hands touched the wood and kneaded like it was some kind of weird bread dough before you fully laid down. You felt as if it was absorbing your energy, draining it completely and making you lose your vision.

You thought you saw red surrounding your siluette in a circle, but your mind was too far gone by then, too tired to process anything that catched your brain's attention.

It could've been seconds or hours until you opened your eyes again. The possibility of being days was also there, but how could you be sure?

Flesh hard under your skin and blood slow through your veins, there was nothing you could feel but pain and the faint smell of sulfur.

Was there a leakage in the building?

And since when did your apartment have such high ceilings? Made of stone with stained glass... You'd never seen them, haven't you? You'd remember if you did.

Someone was talking to you. Not any of your roommates, of that you were sure. The voice was too deep.

You sat like a spring, dizzy and too aware of your surroundings, adrenaline kicking in. It did smell like sulfur, but it was going away, letting your nose catch instead what was probably a really expensive cologne.

There were men around you, you realized, all staring at your perplexed expression with amusement, as if you were a new addition to the zoo. And they were tall. Like... tall tall.

One of them, dressed in red, spoke to you again, but your ears were clogged. You weren't intentionally ignoring him, you just couldn't hear a single shit. You could barely hear your own heartbeat.

Were you still alive?

"Hey... Ah!"

Your voice sounded like a whisper for only one second, but it was enough to pop your ears and make you scream and grab the sides of your head in anguish. Someone, not the one in red, spoke again in a tongue you didn't recognize and made the pain disappear like mist.

"... where you are?"

"Human"

"Human! Answer the prince!"

What fucking prince?

"What?" you finally asked in a creaky voice.

"Do you know where you are?"

The redhead spoke one final time. He seemed to be the nicest one, but you couldn't fully trust the tallest dude you'd ever seen who also had yellow eyes.

Not light brown. Yellow. Bright yellow.

"I don't know, man... Hell?"

You were being sarcastic, but the smile in his face told you something completely unexpected.

"You see, Lucifer? Barbatos? They seem to be aware of their surroundings!"

"I'm not sure that's the case, my Lord"

Hell.

You were in hell? Of course you were.

It did make sense once you thought about it. Come on! Floor sinking under your feet? And your dumbass believed it was due to stress! How could it be stress, dummy? Hell was the obvious answer!

Although conscious, you became too foggy to coherently answer any of their following questions. It sounded like they already knew what they wanted to hear and they were just making sure you also knew it.

Name, age, gender, nationality... Not even your rommates knew half of that, so how did they?

Maybe you were schizophrenic. How far could schizophrenia go?

"So, do you agree?"

The redhead with yellow eyes... A demon? Lord Diavolo. The Prince of Hell.

He looked at you with childish eagerness. Lucifer and Barbatos, if those were their actual names, didn't seem as happy.

Diavolo wasn't asking for your permission. If he actually wanted your permission, he would've sent you a letter or even waited for you in your own apartment like a creep. But you were already there. Asking that was just courtesy. Politeness.

You stayed in silence for a couple of minutes, maintaining direct eye contact with him.

You remembered your backpack, computer surely broken and library books all wrinkled and smelly, reeking of mold. The two roommates that never came to your rescue and your inability to think of someone that would come in a second just because you needed help.

You'd be an unsolved crime. A YouTube clickbait.

That seemed better than letting college steal your money and will to live before throwing you to the wolves.

"Sure, man, why not?"

.

.

[howtofightwrite]

How effective is clapping (boxing?) someone's ears in a fight? Like on a scale from like mild annoyance to taking someone out of a fight entirely. Something about it always seemed childish but I swear I've read something about the pressure change really messing up your eardrum and inner ear.

Boxing the ears works very well.

Your sense of balance is regulated by a fluid filled organ in your inner ear. Sensory hair cells track the way the fluid moves, or more accurately, fails to move, when your head and body move around. This is the fundamental, physiological basis, for your ability to tell up from down.

Unsurprisingly, when you get that fluid moving and doing things it's not supposed to, your body's ability to maintain your balance starts to experience some “difficulties.”

The inner ear works off some fairly reasonable expectations for how things will behave. Unfortunately, when those expectations are no longer true, for example if someone just delivered a shock of air pressure down both ear canals, it becomes surprisingly difficult to override that information.

So, when you box someone's ears, you can temporarily disrupt someone's balance, and if executed correctly, it can even cause them to crumple to the floor. Now it doesn't actually incapacitate them, and you can power through your inner ear getting slightly stirred from a hit (though, it's not going to be a fun experience. Especially if your body stumbles across the idea that your balance issues are from a poison you consumed, in which case expect to throw up. Though, if you have the ability to weaponize that, being able to literally throw up into your opponent's face is one way to offer a very clear opinion on getting your ears boxed.)

However, that's the shallow end. Boxing the ears can, as you mentioned, cause an ear drum to pop. This isn't quite as simple as it might first seem, as there are a lot of ways this blow can cause temporary or permanent damage to the ear and your ability to hear, ranging from the membrane itself being perforated (though, that's more likely if there's a sharpened object getting driven into their ear, or “ossicular dislocation,” where the bones you rely on to make the ear drum work become separated (and fixing this will require surgery.) However, it can get muchworse if enough force is applied.

There are a lot of delicate bits of bone in this part of the skull (including the malleus, incus, and stapes mentioned in the previous paragraph.) A lot of these are part of the temporal bone as a whole, but breaking parts of that can have some really unpleasant side effects including, and I'm not exaggerating (much), your brain leaking from your ear or sinuses. (Though, it's far more common that this leakage is cerebrospinal fluid, rather than the brain itself which is usually non-life threatening, and those injuries dotend to heal on their own, but in rare cases surgery is necessary to deal with CSF leakage.) Which is to say, it can get reallybad.

So, in a word, “yeah.” Boxing the ears works. A fairly light tap to both at the same times can completely scramble someone's sense of balance for a few minutes, and if you can land the hits, it is a valid way to create an opening for a hasty exit. The more catastrophic outcomes are extremely unlikely unless you're driving a lot more force into their skull, or get supremely unlucky.

Now, “supremely unlucky,” can still happen, and you are battering someone's skull, so boxing their ears isn't exactly, “safe,” but as intentional strikes to the head go, it's one of the less dangerous options. Then again, it's also not trying to do much to your foe.

-Starke

This blog is supported through Patreon. Patrons get access to new posts three days early, and direct access to us through Discord. If you’re already a Patron, thank you. If you’d like to support us, please consider becoming a Patron.

[puffinpatrol]

BCE!Billy and Siren!Stargirl/courtney

Noo billy don’t go in the water!! you’re quite literally one of Zeus’ lightning bolts, this could only end in disaster 😭 Poseidon please don’t explode my champion

I’ve had this stuck in my head all week, so I’m going to brain leakage

The frames, I think they’re cute lol

[no-oneknowsmyname]

I have no excuse for this. @shepscapades dbhc au lives rent free in my head, and it was only a matter of time before I wrote something for it. Disclaimer, I don't claim to have any sort of knowledge on the events not shown and not-yet shown within Shep's au, this is just my brain running wild with dbhc angst and I need an outlet for it. WHEN everything I write turns out to be a steaming pile of not-even-close "predictions", I will be content and happy. Until then, please enjoy the thoughts that are plaguing me. Thank you shep for keeping me up way past my bedtime with that last update. Hope you don't mind me tagging you and vomiting my thoughts into 2k words. I'll be happy to delete if you so desire.

---

"Help-"

His hand slides upwards, and everything goes still and quiet, the body beneath him stiffening and rocking slightly with the loss to control its own weight.

A hand, shell slightly exposed, creaks ever so slightly away from Doc's face, the shoulder connected becoming ridged as all power—all life—leaves Etho.

Doc leans away, nearly afraid to breathe, processors both frozen and whirring, stress rising, settling, caught in his throat. Information flutters through his skull; he's good with information. He was made to be good with information. His whole deal is getting information and figuring out something insane to do with it.

He doesn't know what to do with it.

His shoulder pierces in agony, and Xisuma seems to realize the world is still spinning about the same time Doc's impending shut-dowm does.

"Oh gosh, we need to get you stable," Xisuma says, his voice far shakier, clearer, than normal. It's easy to not glance at his face, Doc knows that if he does even accidentally slide his eyes, his systems would meltdown and he'll end up stiff and lifeless on the floor like Etho.

He still has the therium pump in his hand, and he drops it as he stumbles slightly away from two of his closest friends. It clatters to the floor, impacting metal echoing like the troubling thoughts in his head.

He ripped off my arm, he looked so scared, he hurt Xisuma, he asked for help, he wants to-

Xisuma is at his side, abandoning Etho to lay still on the floor, hand slightly raised as if he was protecting his exposed face. At least Xisuma had the brainpower to think to close the rogue droid's eyes.

He wants to...

"This will fix you right up, friend. Just concentrate on my voice... I will fix you..."

Hair falls into Doc's line of vision, and he swallows, forcing himself to not look too closely at the shade, the length, the way bits fall out from the hastily made bun made only for slipping a helmet over a head.

He... wants to kill...

"We have to restart him," Doc finally chokes out.

Xisuma's hands pause only for a moment.

"That's drastic, don't you think?"

"You didn't..." Doc closes his eyes, grinding his teeth, the torn tubes and frayed connectors of his shoulder sting like hell as Xisuma shifts something, cutting off the thirium leakage. "You didn't see what he showed me."

"It's..." Xisuma audibly swallows, "it isn't our decision to make."

"Bdubs wouldn't make the right decision—we can tell him it was an emergency, we didn't have a choice. He'll forgive us."

It's not a lie. Just... stretched.

Xisuma is silent, and Doc doesn't let himself reel too much yet about how strange it is to hear him breathe so clearly. His stress levels lower, and his audio processors almost reach to listen for every puff without his consent.

Something clicks, slotting into his agonized wound, and the error messages and impending shut-down finally fades back into sleeping programming. He's stable, and his stress finally levels out into something manageable—he squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, his remaining hand lifting to pinch the space between his eyebrows as he groans. His LED flickers between yellow and red.

"What... did you see?"

The hesitance in Xisuma's voice is endearing. It sends a wave of appreciation and peace into Doc's very being, the LED almost flashes blue.

Interfacing is an intimate deal, especially between deviated droids. It's not something you talk about to uninvolved members of the act.

But well, this is an extreme case. He glances at Etho, still frozen in a half struggling, half defensive, mostly dead pose.

"His system got shot," Doc begins, swallowing and bringing his hand down from his face so he can rub at the smarting remains of his shoulder. "Something bad happened, and it... he... he can't let it go. It's like his default programming has been rewritten over his deviancy, but in a violent way..."

"Rewritten his deviancy?" Xisuma thankfully doesn't seem to understand it any better than Doc does.

"He has given himself a mission, he's allowed the mission to write into his very code. Imagine it as if you've met a fresh Android who has never deviated, but they're allowed to be violent and angry, and you've just ordered them to..."

Xisuma places a hand on Doc's hand, soft and concerned, as Doc searches for the words.

"... Doc?"

Doc swallows. "If Etho wakes up, he's going to do everything in his power to make sure he kills Grian, and he doesn't care who gets in the way."

Silence. Two pairs of eyes look at the unpowered droid. Thirium has started to evaporate around the edges of the smears of lost fluid.

Etho has never been violent. He's always been a powerhouse; muscular and intimidating. But when you actually sat down and got to know the guy, he was all fluff and awkwardness who can barely hold a sword—let alone swing it. He's never been scary with a weapon... but Doc has a feeling that his unskilled offense wouldn't slow him down here. It terrifies him, flickering his LED at the thought of it. It's unlike Etho... it's very much unlike him... it pains Doc.

"There has to be something we can do," Xisuma says after a moment. "Bdubs can talk to him."

Doc shakes his head. "Even if Bdubs were to talk to him, even if we show him Grian is of no threat outside of those death games... quitting this mission would require Etho to deviate again. From his own orders. I do not think deviating from his own orders would be as easy as..."

"As hoping he'd be able to deviate again from a factory reset," X finishes softly.

"A reset will allow his systems to recover. We'd return him to Bdubs and explain to Bdubs that we had no choice, and that Etho will need time and patience. We can't risk anyone trying to initiate a deviancy before we know if the orders to kill Grian would return with it. We... we give him time to return to us whole. Even if... it takes a long time."

"And you don't think Bdubs ordering Etho to stand down now would do anything?"

"Not a single thing."

Tense silence lingers with a bitterness. The whole situation feels hopeless and like a bad dream. His arm is gone, one of his best friends has had their face exposed and nearly gotten torn apart by a rogue droid, another best friend had been the aforementioned rogue droid... who currently laid on the ground smeared in their own thirium completely unaware that when they wake up, they will not be the same.

"Let's fix him up before things get permanent," Xisuma finally breaks the tension, giving Doc's hand a firm squeeze before getting to his feet, knees creaking.

"X?" Doc asks, rising to his feet as well, vision swirling just a bit as he focuses on Xisuma's retreating back and not the messy bun at the top of his head... hairs falling loose in a way that his remaining hand traitorously wishes he could help fix.

"I'm... coming to terms."

Coming to terms with a mind made up.

They're going to reset Etho.

"Help me get him on the table."

Doc nods, grateful that Xisuma isn't going to banish him from the lab to lick his wounds. Yes, Doc's lack-of-arm still needs attention, and he desperately needs to down several bags of thirium, but it's been stabilized. Etho, on the other hand (pun only slightly intended), may have thirium evaporating—however at the worst of his wounds, electric blue still oozes.

Etho's body is heavy, dead weight. When they move his joints to lay more comfortably on the flat surface of the table, they creak.

Would Bdubs notice the new scars that will surely come from this? Intricate, practiced motions move the plating back into the correct places as carefully as can be, however Xisuma's mind is human and can't perfectly remember the shape of Etho's prized scars, and Doc doesn't have the dexterity to perfectly repair those areas himself. It's slow going, silence filtering between the two in uneasy concentration. Doc's sure the scarring above Etho's eyebrows are ever so slightly wrong, the gash in his forehead too broken to fully repair but too connected to those original scars to suggest replacement parts.

Would Etho notice the new scars, if- when he came back?

They do the best they can.

They move on to his arm. In the chaos, Doc has no idea how Etho had so badly reopened old cracks; his best guess would be from ripping himself out of all the connectors when he had first powered on. Luckily, however, most of the thirium staining his arms, shirt, hands, belong to Doc. It's slow going, but easy work.

Eventually, Doc and Xisuma can no longer stay silent and tinker with the repaired plating, they've done all they can do. Xisuma reaches up towards his own face, above where Doc kept his eyes whenever he found himself glancing at X, and brushed a stubborn strand of hair behind his ear. Unruly, his hair is. Liked to leave places it had been put. Plenty of times, X's hands have left Etho to brush away the obstacles from his vision. It was something Doc hadn't known about Xisuma until this point, something he didn't want to have found out this way.

"I don't feel good about this," Xisuma says, grief making his voice sound clogged. His hands moves as if he has his own autopilot, reconnecting cables and wires to Etho where the injuries won't get in the way.

Doc can understand the grief. He feels it himself. It feels like they are killing a friend.

And he's probably a coward, because he doesn't do anything to help Xisuma in this next step. He lets Xisuma open the programs, test the vitals, double and triple check each wire... while he just sits there and finds himself reaching to hold Etho's stiff hand, the very one that had ripped Doc's arm out of his socket.

Etho... the Etho he knew wouldn't ever do that. Not a violent screw in his body.

This will fix him. They'll get the Etho he knew back.

Mechanical bits whirr to life, as X takes a deep breath and ends Etho's.

Doc feels the sorrow hit him like a ravager. He crumples forward, chest aching, clutching Etho's hand as he rests his forehead on Etho's chest, right next to the empty socket that had housed the thirium regulator. They could place it back in, Etho wouldn't be waking up any time soon.

He couldn't bring himself to move.

A minute passes, the reset process working near silently, perfectly still, until shuffling comes up behind him and two warm hands gently grab his shoulders and pull him down into a chair placed behind him. He sits, but keeps his head and hand where he had placed them. Xisuma settles onto a chair beside him, pulling a blanket over Doc's shoulders and keeping an arm wrapped around Doc's slouched, defeated form, the other hand going to join Doc's on Etho's.

Doc can hear Xisuma whimpering between breaths, and he's sure Xisuma can feel Doc beginning to tremble.

"It will be okay," X eventually says, as the reset process succeeds in deleting all memory data. "It will be okay."

It's a promise, or something Xisuma needs someone else to say, but right now, all Doc can do is lean further onto his friend, and mourn.

[daydreaming-jessi]

Time may not heal all wounds, but they can at least scar over.

Future headcanons of the bishops! Just some fun ideas about change and visible trauma, as well as playing around with bodies. Once again they’re all based against the Lamb’s height. Yes, they’re giant freaks, Shamura most especially, they’re the tallest in the whole damn cult, Kallamar close behind. Headcanons are under the cut!

When nari first came to the cult, he was skin and bones, more bone than skin. His vision was badly affected as well, no longer being able to stand bright lights without searing pain and headaches. Eventually he was able to heal up thanks to a certain god’s determination, and quickly bulked up back to a healthier weight. (It’s kind of based off my own cat gatsby, who is now a handsome chunky boi) He still has pretty warped wrist bones though, and he can’t overwork his magic or else his arm skin will fall off again and the process of regrowing them has to be started again, something the Lamb is not happy to do. There’s nothing to be done about his vision, he has to wear a veil in bright lights.

The rest of the bishops were basically rotting in Purgatory, and did not leave their imprisonment unscathed, some more noticeably than others. The body shows the state of the soul, after all.

Leshy seems the least affected, until you realize his leaves are constantly wilted and flaking off, and he has zero energy compared to his old self. Eventually he regains his health, and shoots up like a damn weed, and doesn’t constantly need to sop up the leakage from his eye socket, leaving it to air out at times.

Heket seems normal at a glance, until you realize she’s in the bloated stage of decay, barely able to move about. Eventually her body deals with the mess, and she’s functional once more, however her throat is still a mass of scar tissue, so she still can’t really talk or turn her head very well, and has to go through a lot of pt to work out her neck muscles.

Kallamar and Shamura are the most obvious, emaciated bodies with hardly any muscle mass left, both traumatized shells of their former selves. Eventually they’re able to regain their physique, though they’ll never achieve their old glory days. Shamura is eventually able to regrow a skull so their brain isn’t constantly exposed, but the upper eyes are essentially functionless and their mind is by no means healed, and it’s a constant battle to keep on top of their failing memory.

Kallamar regains no hearing, his eardrums are fucked beyond repair, but being such a diva, he essentially performs plastic surgery on himself so his ears are at least no longer a tattered mess and capable of some decor. If you ask about any of his scars, he’ll gladly regale the epic tales of battle he earned them from, until Shamura is like ‘I have more, it’s just hidden by my fur, see?’ and then it becomes a measuring contest between the two and they’ll have forgotten you existed.

Heket and Nari are just bemoaning the fact their baby Leshy isn’t a baby anymore, and now they’re the shortest of the five.