#descriptive injuries

[kulai]

DAY 10, 11, 14 - 16, 17, 18 - 20, and 21 all-in-one post!

sorry im just getting really lazy posting it separately lol, check out the image description if you wanna know the specific prompt! xoxo

check out my twitter where i'm more active!

[frownyalfred]

Jason coming back from the dead angry and out for revenge using a crowbar as his weapon of choice only to bash in someone’s skull with one well-placed, Lazarus Pit-fueled swing and suddenly getting hit with a flashback of gargling his own bloody teeth and fucking losing it on the cobblestone of a random alley somewhere in the Narrows send tweet

[eldritch-ace]

Coming out as a Hey, Melissa! defender, she’s just girlie pop and I think catboy Paul and dogboy Ted are great additions to the lore ✌️🐈💖

[jasmines-library]

Lazarus Rising

WHUMPTOBER DAY 27: Prompt ‘scars’

Fandom: Batfam

Summary: after an accident takes your life, your brothers manage to find a way to bring you back. But it leaves you with a set of prominent scars that you struggle to come to terms with. But your brothers are there to help you realise that you are beautiful just the way you are.

Warnings: Death, description of wounds and scars, self hate.

Word count: 1.6k

MASTERLIST ⛤ WHUMPTOBER WORKS

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

It was a nasty accident.

An accident that had cost you your life. Your brothers had raced towards you, trying to haul the debris from the exploded building off of your body, but they were too late. You were dead. Still chest, blank stare, stone cold dead.

For a while, no one dared to move as Bruce cradled your bloody body. Not one of the boys attempted to hide the tears that rolled down their cheeks as you lay there devoid life in a pool of your own blood. The shrapnel had embedded itself if your back, and had sliced into other parts of your skin. You could see from the gash on your hand and on your cheek where you had tried to protect your face in vain.

The sight made Damian queasy and so he was the first to turn away, trying to burry the thought that he would never see the way you smiled with your eyes or simply hear your voice again.

Jason was the last to move. Long After Bruce had hauled your body away and his older brother had tried to pull him away gently by wrapping a strong arm around him. But all he could do was stare blankly at the crimson that stained the ground. It should have been him. He was the one who was supposed to be on patrol that night. But he bunked off and you took his place instead. His stomach knotted, tightening around him like a noose. He promised himself that he was going to find a way to bring you back.

And he did.

He didn’t want to tell his brothers what he was trying to do at first. But they caught on quickly after Jason was unable to hide the dark bags under his eyes any longer and they threatened to tell Bruce if he didn’t let up.

They were hesitant at first, but soon the four of them spent their free time delving into books and research. For a short while, their efforts seemed in vain and there were more frustrated sighs drifting across the room than words. But in one glorious moment, the words finally floated into Jason’s ears.

“The Lazarus pit.” He read from the screen what illuminated his small face in the dark. He had managed to find it after getting in contact with his mother and wracking his brain for something she had accidentally mentioned in passing. Talia was reluctant at first, but with Damian’s charm she was quick to give in. “My mother knows where it is. We can bring y/n back but…”

Tim, who had crowded round his little brother squinted. “But what?”

“She’s not going to be the same. The pit it-

It messes with your mind. And it might not work at all… there’s a time frame.”

Jason shook his head and pulled on his coat. “It’s better than nothing.”

~

The four of them carried your body gently towards the swirling green liquid. The pit was hidden in some sort of cave that had been dug out into some sort of lab.

“So this is it, huh?” Dick asked as they lay you down gently next to the pit. He could hardly bring himself to look at you. Your beauty was still obscured by the nasty gash that still hadn’t closed. He was so gentle as he manoeuvred your fragile body, as though just his fingers grazing along your cold skin would hurt you.

“Yeah.” Tim sighed.

“Keep your guard up. We don’t know how she’s going to react when she wakes up. She might be scared and confused.” Headed Damian who had practically recited his mother's words after committing them to memory.

There was little else said as they eased your body into the green liquid, watching as you floated just below the surface. It didn’t take long for the chemicals to take effect, stitching your skin back together and bringing more structure back to your bones and more life back to your skin.

Suddenly, you sat up with a gasp, flailing and splashing the substance of the edge of the pool as you dragged yourself out of it. Your clothes clung sticky to your skin. Your eyes were wide and didn’t settle on anything long before they were darting to the next thing and the next after that.

When Tim reached out to you your instincts kicked in, and you gripped his hand to flung him over your shoulder which caused him to let out a grunt as he collided with the stone.

Your mind was racing at a million miles an hour. You were scared. You didn’t know where you were or why every inch of your body was drenched in a dull but persistent ache.

“Y/n?”

You froze calming down for just one brief moment. You knew that voice and its gentle lilt. It was a voice you could picture a face with. Dark haired with stern eyes, but behind the facade was really a gentle boy with a soft spot for his little sister. You turned, tilting your head at the boy.

“Jason?”

~

You couldn’t bear to glance in the mirror anymore because they were all your gaze could settle on. Pale and spidering the scars crawled up your back and along your neck to your cheek. The pit had worked to some extent and although your mind was seemingly recovering and readjusting, the pit had failed to completely heal your skin, leaving a scar in its wake. Damian said it was something to do with the time scale. Something to do with the fact that the Lazarus put worked better on the dead the shorter they had passed.

You still couldn’t quite come to terms with that word. Dead. It sat in your mind like a weed. No matter how many times you plucked it, it always wormed its way back through the cracks.

For the first few weeks of being back at the manor, you spent a lot of your time trying to cover up the angry lines. The ones on your back were easy enough. You had just resorted to wearing a hoodie. Usually one of the boys’. They gave you a sense of comfort. But after a while, you began to miss wearing your own clothes. You missed being able to express yourself without it feeling wrong. So, there you were, standing in front of your full length mirror in your favorite top, staring at the scar.

There was a soft knock on the door before it peeled open, whining on its hinges and Jason saw you standing there. He couldn’t help the small grin that ebbed onto his lips.

You immediately tried to cover yourself. “Get out.”

“I-“ Jason didn’t want to move. He often feared that it he took his eyes off of you for too long then you would vanish again. Which meant that he was checking in on you much to your dismay. He was so proud of how far you had come in just a few short weeks. “You look beautiful, y/n.”

You recoiled. What? “Jason. Don’t look at them.”

You were about to pull on a hoodie when Damian’s voice peeped round the corner. He had grown impatient and set off with Tim to drag you to movie night. Dick went with them too, unable to shake his worry. Since you came back the four of them were constantly on edge, even if they didn’t care to admit it. “Is she coming or- whoa.”

Tim nearly squealed at the sight of you. “I thought I’d never see that top again.”

Your skin flushed as you sank down onto you bed.

“All of you. Out.”

“Why?” Damian implored.

“Because…I don’t like people looking at them. They’re disgusting.”

“Why the hell would you think that?” Jason was practically outraged at your words.

You couldn’t help it when your eyes brimmed with tears and your voice wavered. “Look at them, Jay!”

“I don’t see anything wrong with them.” Dick shrugged coming to sit next to you. “Do you?”

The rest of your brothers shook their heads.

You gave him a look.

Dick rolled up his top to reveal a long scar along his solar plexus. “Do you see anything wrong with this one?” He asked. Jason then pulled up the hem of his red top and shifted round on the mattress to show you the ones that littered his back. They were pinkish and resembled various different shapes. Or those?”

You shook your head. “No…it’s just. They’re everywhere.”

“So? They’re beautiful y/n. You’re beautiful. Does having a scar make Jason any less of a person that he was before?” Tim asked. You shook your head meekly. “Your scars don’t define you. No matter how much you think they do. You’re still the same gentle girl you were before.”

“Besides,” Damian chimed, “I think they’re really cool. Like lightning.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at that thought. Your brothers always had a way of bringing light to a dark situation. It was just something that they did; they helped without thinking no matter the cost. You were glad to have them by your side, even if they did get a little annoying at times.

Although it took a little while, and a bucket-load of tears, your slowly began to embrace the scars. You began to express yourself in new ways that you hadn’t done before. In ways that brought a beaming grin to your face. And to your brothers. They were unbelievably proud and their hearts swelled. But it was one thing that you had learnt that really stuck out to you. That they loved you, just the way you were.

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

<- DAY 26 ⛤ DAY 28 ->

Taglist:

@deans-spinster-witch

@senjoritanana

@amaryllis23

[sporeclan]

[Next >]

Here's a little prologue! Hope you enjoy the backstory of this clan! I'm pretty proud of it, honestly.

Because there's a pretty low contrast on the text in some of these panels, I've written them down under the cut for anyone who's struggling to read it! I've also added some image descriptions to the images themselves :]

Moon ??

A new fungus starts growing in the clan's territories.

Soon, the Star-reach Tree succumbs to the fungus.

It spreads fast and eats most things.

Within moons, trees start falling.

The clans' connection to StarClan has been severed

Desperate for resources and lost without guidance, the clans are driven to war.

The loss of trees means loss of food and shelter for prey...

As a result, most prey evacuate the area, leaving the clans to starve.

...

War ravages the already weakened clans.

Only few cats remain when the dust settles...

And fewer stay for long.

The clans are no more.

A single cat rallies a small group of former enemies together.

Crowwhistle

has a vivid dream

SporeClan has been founded!

Moon 0

First moon of New-Leaf

[factual-fantasy]

23 asks! Thank you!! :}} 🐶

Guys, please read the FAQ in my pinned posed before sending asks, like the ask button says. You don't have to read them all- just a quick check to see if i have answered your question already and especially to see my stance on requests.

I'm not taking drawing requests at the moment. If I hit an art block and start taking requests, I'll make a post about it and update my pinned post.

Again, please just take a quick glance at the FAQ before sending in your asks. It saves both of us a lot of time. Thank you! <:)

Currently there isn't actually a plot line I'm following- its more of a "day in the life of the neighborhood" kind'a thing.

The main points of interest though is Wally's home being alive and it watches him sleep at night.. this causes Wally to have terrible sleeping problems and anxiety. But no one knows Home is the culprit..

Another point of interest is Julie secretly actually being a huge beast that is simply disguising herself as this pretty little harmless neighbor.. she truly is a nice person and loves her friends, but she has disguised herself to look this way so that people wouldn't be afraid of her. Only Frank knows what she really looks like..

And lastly, Eddie is a real human from our/another world. He was somehow brought here to the neighborhood.. he has no memory of his original life..

Oh wow!! :000 That blue one is so pretty.... 🥺💞💞

@imdonewiththisblogsblog

A BUTTERFLY WITH CLEAR WINGS?? THAT SOO PRETYYYY💞💞💞

@littlelightfish

AAA THANYIOU!! :DDDD

Octo is intended to kind'a have normal old man problems- he's kind'a far sighted, has a cranky back, gets tired easy, gets winded faster than he used to.. other than that and the natural aches and sores that came after his major injury- (that comic you're referencing) he's relatively ok! :00 (Those dizzy spells that I talked about come from when he overworks himself.. normal old man things! <:D)

Seafoam is intended to be the youngest of his siblings, and his eldest sister was a rotten egg that had kids way too young.. and her kids were ALSO rotten eggs that had THEIR kids way too young. One of those kids being Red. So because of the age gap between him and his sister, and both generations having kids at like 20 years old... Seafoam is 55-65 and Red, his great nephew, is like 4-6...

Spider crab tends to not interact a whole lot with Pinwheel and Tuna, since they are a little too high energy and loud for him. 😅 But Coco and Red are nice company. :)

Spider does worry about the crewmembers that are missing limbs or eyes.. he does his best to offer help without overstepping. Sometimes those things are sensitive to talk about.. Also Spider sure looks old, but I pictured him being somewhere in his late 30s. Stress will add a lot of age to your face... 😅

I can see Spider crab, Louis and Tuna spending the most time in the kitchen just to be around Ellie. Although if one of them comes for a visit and one of the other 2 is already there, they probably wont stick around long. <XD Spider doesn't like Louis or Tuna's noise and Tuna like's to be alone with Ellie to talk peacefully.. As to who cooks when she cant... I can see the crew eating things that don't need to be cooked until she gets better. Pre-baked bread, easy sandwiches, etc- in an emergency though I can see the crew catching fish and Louis cooking them for the crew :))

Red might have nightmares yeah.. although his family were pretty rotten so this new crew is actually rather nice.. also Coco is his favorite playmate :))

AAA THANKYIUU!! :DDD IM SO GLAD YOU LIKE URCHINS DESIGN!! :)))) Unfortunately though, I haven't thought out her backstory too much..

I'm thinking she met Cuttlefish the same time the rest of the crew did. As for what made them friends, I kind'a like the idea that Urchin can see right through Cuttle's facade. She's not used to having someone see through all her lies, see the REAL her.. and still want to be her friend. Its nice.. 🥺

and finally WAARRHGHH THANKD FOR THIS ASK! :DDD MY HEART IS FULL OF JOY READING YOUR INTEREST IN KY OCS!!! :))))

Honestly? I have absolutely no idea XD 💀💀 All I know is Poppy is the oldest and Sally is the youngest. Sally is probably around 18-20--

@spirited-splashes

WWAHGGG THABK YOU SO MUCH!! :DD ITS MY FAVORITE THING TO DRAW!! :}}}}}

@legitanawkwardmess

ALKDKJENFKJEN THATS HILARIOUS XDDDD

I haven't decided what the neighbors reactions would be since I have no plans for Julie to reveal herself.. though even if she did, I have a feeling she would want to maintain her smaller form. Even if it takes more energy..

To Julie, this body represents who she really is. Who she really wants to be. This is how she want's the world to see her. Even if the truth got out and everyone accepted her. She'd stay in her smaller form anyways..

@i-only-created-this-to-read

So far I don't have intentions for there to have been any tenants before Wally.. or at least no one will ever find out who they were or what happened to them.

As for how old Home is, I haven't decided this and its also a complete mystery to the neighbors. Poppy has lived there ever since she was a child and Home was already there when she moved in..

Now Home could get creative and find different ways to harm or even kill those it doesn't like.. but thankfully Home doesn't have any intentions to hurt anyone, especially not Wally. Home wouldn't even try to significantly hurt Barnaby, despite him getting in the way of Homes plans.. although Home cant resist the occasional stubbed toe or splinter out of frustration...

As for adding stuff to Home's body.. if Wally purposefully slapped a strip of duct tape on the wall, that wouldn't really become a part of Homes body. Things only really attach to Home if they are significant.

Examples being a new shelf. An added wall to split a room, cutting a hole in the wall and installing a window, ripping up carpet and installing hardwood floors, etc. The nail holding up a picture frame or that nail gun plugged into the wall are not apart of Home..

Though that's not to say Home cant control the outlets, it can! But that would only give Home the power to turn the nail gun on and off. Home cant make the gun fire..

As for plants, even if they engulf Home and grow in-between the floorboards, Home cannot control plants.. or if there was moss or some kind of fungus growing on the walls? If it ate away at the wood that plank would just die off and Home couldn't feel/control it anymore..

Lastly, Home being able to move things quickly is kind'a what you would imagine. Home moves them as fast as that object can reasonably move. How fast do you think you could slam a door? How fast do you think the window would slam down shut if you gave it all your might?

I hope I cleared up these questions! :00 And sorry if I accidentally missed one or two! <:D

OUUGHH I LOVE THIS!! ITS MAKING ME WANT TO DRAW THE COMIC AGAIN XDDDD

No worries! :DD

@soulful-rodent

On desktop the limit appears to be 100, I'll see what I can do! 😅Also thank you! :))

AW! :DDD I'm glad they like it! But yeah absolutely keep it to the light stuff-- my Octonauts art has a surprising amount of blood in it for a kids show 💀

(Referencing this post)

I might just be! XD🪄✨✨✨Also thank you!! :)))

@captain-skyler1987

Oof... welcome back? <:D ... sorry-

Awe! I'm glad to hear you liked my Gravity Falls stuff!! :DDD Thank you so much!! :))

@jayemover-16

Oh no no! :0 reblogging is a feature of Tumblr and is not reposting! :))

My idea is that Wally only really has sleepovers with Barnaby. He would have sleep overs with Howdy too, but that Pillar's on a pretty tight sleeping schedule/routine <XD

Now Barnaby has noticed that Wally sleeps better when he crashes at his place. Because of this he has started offering his house as a getaway for Wally when ever he notices he seems a little extra tired..

Something to note; neither Barnaby nor Wally think something is wrong with Wally's house because of this- they're just starting to think that Wally's anxiety is worse when he's alone..

Also thank you so much!! :DDDD

@wolfie-777

I don't think much would change to be honest.. they'd still be the same old Wally and Barnaby even after a species swap!

This was sent right after I commented that I'm still open to Welcome Home suggestions. Are these Welcome Home AUs..? <:0 I am unfamiliar with them..

Oof, went back and fixed it. I tend to type too fast and get slime and smile mixed up. 😅

It can be a little embarrassing when people point out my typos, mostly because every single typo I make is pointed out every single time without fail.😅💀 But no worries, I know you meant no harm-

[gallusrostromegalus]

For the OC ask I'd like to ask: betrayal or midnight (whichever you want, or both if you have the time/ energy)

Midnight: What keeps them up at night? Do they have nightmares? Fears? Anxieties? What do they do in the small hours of the morning when they should be sleeping?

--- It well past Midnight.

It was hard to tell in Las Noches, because the natural sun outside was just as dark as the sky, and the artificial sun Aizen installed under the dome never set. But the air was cooler, and marginally more humid.

Coyote Starrk was up, roaming the halls- he slept all day so Lilynette has the energy to play with their new friends. She liked to follow the older girls around, especially Ulquiorra's underlings, Cici and Vivi, and sometimes Charlotte, if the woman offered to play makeup with her.

Besides, it felt... normal to him, to roam at night. When things cooled off and quieted down and the other nocturnes came out to play. Hallibel, for one- Coyote wasn't actually sure when she slept, or if she did. The closest he'd ever seen is her folded in a corner somewhere, breathing deeply but as soon as he approached, she would open one eye and at least grunt her half of a conversation. Ulquiorra was usually out on the roof somewhere and he made for decent if somewhat gloomy stargazing company. Grimmjow was often stalking the lower levels, Aaroniero/Arruruerie emerged from their shadowy sanctuary to scuttle about the kitchen, and Szaylel kept not so much irregular as outright chaotic hours.

He was in the outer halls that go around the dome, artificial sunlight streaming in one side, silvery moonlight in the other, and all the noises of the night echoing between them. It wasn't actually being sociable, per se, but it soothed the lonliness to hear everyone about or not.

"AAAAOOUGH!!"

Mostly.

Coyote sighed, rolling his eyes and sped up to meet the howling.

"HAAAUGH! AAAAUG!" Wonderweiss cried, scrabbling awkwardly up a set of stairs and bouncing off the walls as he sprinted for Coyote, eyes wide and terrified.

"Hey, hey, calm d-OOF!" Coyote tried to soothe as the small hollow slammed into his middle, bawling. "OW! Dammit Kid! What's the big idea, howling like it's the full moon out- Oh. Fuck."

Weiss was sobbing, paler than usual, and going a bit funny at the edges. It happened sometimes when he was particularly upset- a third eye sprouting in the middle of his forehead, too many fingers on his hands, and two extra mouths splitting open on the sides of his throat- the ears had gone long and floppy again too.

"Okay, okay, take it easy-" Coyote kept his voice low, hands on the boy's shoulders, trying to calm him down. "-What's wrong, eh?"

"HOUSA! HOUSA ICK!" Weiss yelped, scrambling to his feet and trying to pull Coyote after him.

"Yeah, I don't know what Housa is- Alright, show me." Coyote sighed, getting up and allowing himself to be pulled along. Inarticulate as the boy was, he wasn't stupid, or prone to hysteria. The last time he'd had a howling fit like this, one of Szaylel's creations had gotten loose in the Menos Pits and grown to a nearly unmanageable scale in under and hour.

Weiss dragged him down the stairs and along one of the other external hallways, then deeper into the city, past the hall where Aizen held his interminable meetings-

"HOUSA! HOUSA!" Weiss called as they skidded down a little dogleg hall where one of the Shinigami lords was housed-

"Weiss!" Coyote hissed. "You're going to wake Tousen!"

"YAH! HOUSA!!" Weiss nodded, yanking open the door to the Shinigami's room and running in.

"Shit! I- I'm sorry sir, Weiss was worried about- Oh. Oh, fuck." Coyote realized with horror.

Tousen's room was a small, spare place- little more than a narrow bed, wash basin and desk before the heavily-barred windows. Coyote had never seen the inside of it before, but the pale strips of moonlight through the bars made Coyote realize Tousen wasn't here by choice.

The man himself was sitting on the floor, back against the wall next to the washbasin, the scent of vomit still fresh in the room. He looked awful; gaunt, and the wrong color- almost a dull gray rather than the warm brown when Coyote had first met him. His eyes were closed tightly, he was panting heavily, gripping his abdomen, and not responding to Weiss's calls and shaking his arm.

"Shit." Coyote hissed, kneeling beside the Shinigami- he was sweating and very hot to the touch, but moaned faintly. "Weiss- Weiss! Listen, I need you to find- fuck, um- Find me Paramia or Rudborne, okay? One of them might know what to do."

Weiss whimpered, looking between Coyote and Tousen.

"Go! I'll take care of him, okay?" Coyote urged, and with a final worried look at the shinigami, Weiss sprinted off.

"...Because I definitely know how to do that." Coyote sighed, looking down at the man. "Uh, um. Pulse? He should have one of those, right? Hey, um, Lord Tousen? I'm just gonna. Grab your throat. Yeah that's totally nonthreatening..." He muttered, looking around the room and finding his Zanpakuto on the bed.

Instead of biting him like Coyote would have done if someone had started poking his throat while he was barely conscious, Tousen instead rolled his head weakly in Coyote's direction, pale eyes cracked open.

"...Sssjn?" Tousen mumbled.

"What?" Coyote blinked. "Um, oh, there's your pulse... Yeah, I- I don't think it's supposed to be doing that." Coyote winced, the human's pulse not so much beating as rapidly vibrating under his fingers.

"...Sajin?" He asked again, reaching up for Coyote's face with a shaking hand. "Sajin? Is that you?"

"Who?" Coyote blinked. "Tousen? Can you hear me? What's wrong with you? Something you ate?"

"Sajin, I- I'm so sorry...." He wheezed, voice weak, hand dropping away before he could reach Coyote's face. "I- I need to get you up. Find a doctor- Do we have a doctor? Paramia knows how to do a good stitch-up, but... Fuck. Alright, come on, on your feet-" Coyote grunted, pulling Tousen's arm over his shoulder.

"AUGH!" Tousen shrieked with pain as he was pulled up. "Please! Please, don't- just let me be..."

"No way, you're the only guy here with half a brain and I'd really like to live through this whole war with the shinigami thing so I'm really countin' on you to pull through-" Coyote explained, getting one arm under Tousen's shoulders and pulling him away from the wall-

-there was an unpleasantly wet peeling sound as he stood.

Coyote looked over the shoulder of the man slumped against him to see a bright stripe of blood running down the man's spine and against the wall he'd been propped against.

"I'm so, so sorry..." Tousen whimpered. "I never- I never meant to hurt you..."

"Hurt ME? What the hell, you couldn't hurt a mouse like this, nevermind me!" Coyote yelped, scooping the small man into his arms and then nearly dropping him as he over-corrected. Tousen was much lighter than he should be.

LILYNETTE!! Coyote howled over their bond. WAKE THE FUCK UP!ITS AN EMERGENCY!

WHAT?! She snarled back as Coyote sprinted out of the little cell of a room, looking for someone, anyone-

Tousen's on death's door, we need to find a- a doctor, someone! He panted, searching the halls.

Do we even HAVE a doctor? Lilynette wondered back.

That's what I wanted to know! He grumbled, sprinting up the stairs toward the meeting room.

WHY WOULD I KNOW? WE SHARE A BRAIN, MORON!! she cried back. Fuck, Uh- Not Szaylel- I dunno, Charlotte? She knows a lot about skincare and diets?

Yeah, we're a bit past skincare- look, I told Weiss to go find Paramia, go help him? Coyote skidded into the meeting room to find the light on down the hall in the throne room. He turned the corner to find a tall figure walking towards there as well.

"Ulquiorra's back with the girl Lord Aizen wanted." Hallibel muttered through her mask and high collar. "...Humans aren't supposed to be gray, right?" She frowned down at Tousen.

"No they're not!" Coyote grinned up at her. "Please tell me I've slept through a staff meeting and that we've got an actual doctor, not just a mad scientist and a stitch witch?"

"Oh? What seems to be the matter with- oh. That's. Bad." Szaylelapporo oozed over, then grimaced at the man. "Well, get him on the table, I'll see what I can do-"

"Not you! A REAL Doctor!" Coyote spat, jerking away from him.

"EXCUSE ME?" The mad scientist squawked, aghast.

"Welcome, Miss Inoue-" Aizen's voice rippled down the hall from the throne room. Tousen whimpered, curling into Coyote's chest, shaking. Fuck, if Aizen locked him in that cell of a room, he could have poisoned him too-

"-to my kingdom of- What the hell are you wearing?" Aizen sputtered.

"Yes!" an unfamiliar voice replied.

"Oh, come on, how often do we get a chance to dissect- I mean- surgically assist a Shinigami?" Szaylel pouted, reaching for the shivering man.

---

"Mr. Cifer didn't give me a lot of details about the conditions here, so I tried to prepare for every eventuality I could!" Chirped the small mountain of clothes and camping gear that apparently contained Orihime Inoue.

"I- well. If one cannot be forewarned, one should be forearmed, I suppose..." Aizen muttered, thrown completely off script. "But as I was saying, please allow me to extend the full hospitality of Las-"

There was a brief flicker of bright light and sharp withdrawal of reiatsu in the hall behind him.

"That better not be a cero-" Aizen frowned.

BLAM!

"My dick!" Wailed Szaylel from some distance away, having been blown through several walls as well as castrated.

"Quitcher bitchin', it'll grow back!" Snarled Coyote.

Aizen closed his eyes, rubbing his temples with his middle and ring fingers, struggling to maintain some composure. "What are you doing Mr. Starrk?" He snarled, turning on his heel to confront the First Espada and instead walking face-first into the spectacular underboob cleavage of the Third.

"Are you the Kurosaki kid's medic?" Hallibel called, unperturbed by the fact she was lightly smothering her commander.

"Uhh... I mean I'm trained in first aid and I'm pretty good at healing?" Miss Inoue muttered as Aizen extracted himself from Hallibel's bosom.

"What the hell is going on?" Aizen hissed up at her.

"Great! Lord Tousen's dying." Hallibel explained to Miss Inoue, before looking down at Aizen. "Also, Lord Tousen's dying." She said pointing down the smoking hall where Starrk was emerging with a weak and pallid Tousen in his arms.

"Oh, come on Kaname, pull yourself togeth- oh." Aizen recoiled at the sight of his compatriot, and the way his spine had bled all down the front of Starrk's uniform. "Miss Inoue? Your skills are requi-" He spoke up only for the girl to brush past him without so much as a sideways glance, shed of her excess garmentry.

"Mr. Tousen?" She asked, eyes wide and already on the verge of tears. "Can you hear me?"

"I-Inoue?" he groaned, turning his ear towards her. "Where? Where's Sajin..?"

"He's fine, but you're not. Can you tell me what's wrong?" She said, taking his wrist and touching his face.

"S-stomachache. Started... I- I don't know. Can't sleep." he mumbled, head dropping back onto Coyote's chest.

"He- he also threw up, his whole back is bleedin' and he keeps apologizing to this Sajin guy?" Coyote added.

"When was the last time you ate or drank anything?" She said, pinching the skin on the back of his hand and grimacing.

"I- I don't know. Not for a while. Not... not worth it." he muttered, listless.

"Is the stomachache concentrated anywhere? and is it more like nausea or pain?" She asked.

"P-pain. Very painful." He hissed. "It's- lower right side."

Miss Inoue inhaled slowly, jaw set. "Is it better or worse if you put pressure on it?"

"Hurts- hurts if I take pressure off it?" He whimpered. "I- I can't- Where's Sajin? He, he was just here-"

"Well, Miss Inoue?" Aizen asked, strolling up and putting a hand on her shoulder. "Care to prove your worth?"

The girl was completely still and silent for a moment. Fear? Or some sort of delayed reaction? Aizen watched her for a moment, the girl's face expressionless.

"I need a sterile room, surgical equipment- scalpels, sponges, gloves sutures, the works- and the means to sanitize it, and at least two people to hold him still." she said, voice flat.

"Surgical equipment?" Aizen scoffed. "You misunderstand- I want to see what the Shun Shun Rikka is capable of."

"It's capable of restoring a hell of a lot when it comes to traumatic injury and blood loss but it doesn't work on infections or organ failure, so if you want Mr. Tousen to live through the night, you'll have to settle for my capacity as Surgeon." She said, voice quiet and clipped. "Sterile room, Surgical equipment, sanitary gear, assistants, please, before his condition gets worse."

"...What condition?" Aizen puzzled, and she sighed with exasperation.

"You! White hair and horn! Find me a room that is or can be rendered sterile!" She barked, pointing over Coyote's shoulder.

"What? Who died and made you queen?" Lilynette yelped.

"DO IT!" Coyote barked.

"Fuck! Okay!" She flinched. "There's- uh, Paramia's office. She's got most of the stuff you were yelling about. I think."

"Good. Mr. Starrk, right? Do you know where that is?" She said, gray eyes snapping up to the Primera Espada's own, and he actually startled a bit.

"Uh- yes, and yes?" he muttered, arching his neck away from her.

"Take Mr. Tousen there ASAP, get him on a bed and if there's any means of restraining him, I need him lying on his left side, everything on his right side from his hip-bone to the middle of his ribcage exposed. Understand?" She said, gesturing to Tousen's side.

"Uh, yeah, Yes, I'll go-" Stark muttered, backing up a few steps and vanishing in a burst of Sondido.

"Maybe I didn't make myself cle-" Aizen started with Orihime spun out of his grip and turned to face the rest of the throne room.

"Mr. Cifer! I presume you know where the kitchens are! I need drinkable water, any electrolyte beverages you have or failing that, anything with a decent amount of salt in it, and anything with caffeine."

"I don't take orders from you." he growled.

Miss Inoue stopped from where she'd been turning to Hallibel and glared back at Ulqiorra. "You said that if I followed you through that portal, I'd be joining Aizen's cause, body and soul."

"What?" Aizen mouthed at Ulquiorra behind her.

"Yes? And?" Ulquiorra agreed, glaring back.

"Mr. Aizen, may I then act in an emergency capacity under your authority for the purposes of keeping a member of this organization alive?" She asked, rounding on him.

What had been sad, soft gray eyes in Ulquiorra's recollection of events had darkened into the color of an oncoming stormed and sharpened around the edges in a way that reminded Aizen uncomfortably of how Unohana's disapproval could feel like a knife at his throat.

"...You have hidden depths, Miss Inoue." he smirked, pretending to be at ease if he couldn't pretend to be in control. "-And since you're being such a good team player, I will happily grant you temporary authority to see to Kaname's welfare."

"Thank you sir." She bowed her head. "Cifer! Kitchen!"

Ulquiorra sputtered for a moment and then skulked off.

"...This good favor of mine is entirely dependent on Kaname's survival and recovery, of course." He said, leaning down into her personal space, lips almost at her ear.

"Of course, Mr. Aizen. I would consider failure to save Mr. Tousen just cause for suicide as it is." she said, and then failed to elaborate as she turned to Hallibel. "Ma'am with the blonde hair! What's your name?"

"...Hallibel." She said, slowly cocking her head at the girl

"Thank you Miss Hallibel." Inoue bowed. "Do you have a good grip, and can you stand the sight of blood?"

"...Yes?" Hallibel puzzled.

"Please escort me to Mr. Starrk, I'll need your help." Inoue asked, pointing down the smoking hallway.

"Miss Inoue, what cond-" Aizen started to ask again, but the girl was gone in a blur as Hallibel promptly carried out her orders and followed Starrk's sondido with her own. "-ition are you talking about?"

"Fever? Vomiting? Severe pain in lower right abdomen? C'mon boss, even you know what's up!" Laughed Gin.

---

"So... have you ever done a surgery before?" Hallibel asked when they stopped at the door in front of Paramia's room.

"Ugh-" Orihime staggered for a moment, disoriented. "What? Oh, no- I've seen this one done before. Well, a video of it." She winced.

"Oh." Hallibel muttered. "Well. I've never seen a video of anything, so I guess you're qualified." She shrugged, opening the door.

"Miss Inoue?" a soft voice asked inside. "I'm Roka Paramia, I act as Medic here." She was a small, almost human-looking hollow with half her face covered by a humanlike skull, almost like the phantom of the opera. She also wore a green, cable-knit sweater, which was strange because it had to be at least eighty degrees in here.

"Oh thank god!" Sighed Orihime. "Have you ever done surgery before?"

"No!" Smiled Paramia. "I look forward to learning the process."

"Cool, I'm promoting you to Assistant Surgeon. Can you get the relevant tools out and sanitized?" Orihime nodded.

"I have already done so, as well as secured Lord Tousen to the operating table!" Paramia smiled, gesturing inside to where the shinigami had been strapped down to the stainless steel table. A small, childlike hollow curled up and whimpering beside him. Behind them, Starrk and Lilynette were standing awkwardly, unsure of what to do. There was a quiet sob from the table, and Orihime stepped into the room.

"Hey- I met you down at the river yesterday! Weiss, right?" Orihime asked, touching the boy's shoulder. He looked up at her, large purple eyes blinking slowly in recognition.

"Ohhimay?" he tried.

"That's right! I'm Orihime!" She smiled, patting his head.

"Augh!" Weiss sobbed, grabbing her shoulder and pointing to Tousen.

"OW! Easy, I'm not very strong- Thanks." She winced and Weiss relaxed his grip. "It'll be okay, I promise. I'm going to make Mr. Tousen better, but it's going to really, really suck for a bit but then he'll be all better, I promise!" She soothed, brushing a thick lock of blonde hair away from his face.

Weiss mumbled, looking between her and tousen for a moment.

"It's okay Weiss. I'll be alright." Tousen spoke up, voice little more than whimper. "Can you go guard the hall for me?"

"...kay." Weiss mumbled, shuffling off the table and out the door, crouching beside it, still peering back into the room.

"Thank you. And I'm really sorry for what's about to happen." Orihime bowed, hands holding Tousen's. He grimaced, but nodded and squeezed her hand in acknowledgement.

Orihime looked back at Paramia."What do you have by way of painkillers?"

"Oh, we don't believe in those here!" Paramia smiled.

Orihime blinked at her a few times, and decided to think laterally. "...What do you have in terms of alcoholic beverages or other recreational drugs here?"

"Oh! There's Tequila in the commissary!" Paramia nodded with excitement.

"Nnoitra's got Ketamine." Said Hallibel.

"He has WHAT?" Yelped Starrk.

"Ketamine. Yylfordt snitches it out of Szaylel's lab and they get high on the roof when Aizen's away." Hallibel shrugged.

"Ketamine would be very helpful, actually!" Orihime chirped, slightly manic. "Alright, Miss Lilynette? Go help Ulquiorra in the kitchen-"

"UUUUUGH." Groaned Lilynette.

"I know, he's a jerk." Orihime waved. "But he's also stupid, and probably forgot what I sent him for already."

Lilynette snorted with laughter and Orihime smirked. "I'll write you a list, make sure he comes back with everything, okay?"

"Yeah, I can babysit batboy." Lilynette giggled.

"Miss Hallibel? Do you think you can persuade... I'm sorry, I didn't catch their names-" Orihime waved.

"Yeah I can shake down Nnoitra for his stash." Hallibel nodded.

"Great! You both go do that and come back ASAP while we scrub up?" Orihime asked, giving them each a thumbs up, and the responded in kind before vanishing out the door.

"I must say, I'm very impressed with your capability for organization and command!" Paramia beamed as the two medics washed up and Coyote tried to figure out the best way to keep Tousen pinned to the table. "There was some discussion between Lord Aizen and Lord Ichimaru of abducting someone from soul society to fill in the role of chief medic, but I think you're the superior option so far."

"...Who were they going to take from Soul Society?" Orihime frowned.

"Oh... I can't remember her name. Lady Usagi or something?"

"LADY UNOHANA??" Orihime shouted.

"Yes! Lord Ichimaru suggested that abducting Lady Unohana would be more tactically sound, but Aizen dismissed the idea rather quickly- I'm sorry, have I said something humorous?" Paramia asked as Orihime crumpled to the floor laughing, and there was an amused wheeze from Tousen.

"We'd all be better off if Aizen had attempted to abduct Lady Unohana." Tousen laughed darkly.

"Yeah!" Orihime didn't so much grin as bare her teeth at the absurdity of her circumstances. "She would have reduced them both to bright red streaks on the wall and I wouldn't be here doing an unanesthetized appendectomy at one in the goddamn morning!"

[originalaccountname]

Do the lab rat Chuuya enjoyers even know about this description from the Fifteen light novel

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Whumptober 2023

No. 1: “How Many Fingers am I Holding Up?” | No. 5: Debris

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader (pre-relationship)

Setting: Prison era

Warnings: Head injury

‘Please, don’t be dead. Please, don’t be dead!’ The railing on the stairs wobbled— a testament to the poor solidity of the building— as you hurried down the two floors separating you from the archer. The both of you agreed to tread carefully when entering the old hospital, the look of it not inspiring confidence but the probability of what it could contain overpowering any hesitance. Medical supplies were scarce in this world. Two Tylenol tablets and a pack of gauze would mean everything in what used to be the simplest of situations. 

“Daryl?” You called as loudly as you dared after shoving open the heavy metal door to the ground level. The hole in the flooring was easy to spot with the beam of your flashlight, several feet wide with dust still rising from the collapse. Your stomach twisted when there was no immediate reply, but another call was not necessary when you saw a piece of debris shift. A low groan followed the movement. You would swear that the moisture in your eyes was from the dust in the air. 

You had to hold the light in your mouth to help move the rubble covering him, but there he was. A little worse for wear but in one piece and blinking up at you with a dazed expression. The flashlight was propped against some of the wreckage so that your hands were free to help him sit up. 

“Are you okay?” He blinked a few more times and pressed the heel of his palm to his forehead. He didn’t answer, minutely swaying where he sat. “Dixon, are you with me?” 

Daryl finally seemed to realize you were speaking to him and met your eyes, more than a little disoriented. “Huh?” 

Worry gnawed at your heart. “Are you alright? How do you feel?”

“Like I jus’ fell through the floor fer a half full bottle’a meds.” His speech was a bit slurred, his movements slow and jerky. He held up the aforementioned antibiotics and shook the bottle lightly. “Still got ‘em though.”

You couldn’t help but smile. “Let me look you over and then we’ll get out of here.” You left no room for argument. The archer quickly squeezed his eyes shut when the flashlight was pointed toward his face, swatting at your hand lazily. “Stop it, I need to look at your eyes, you big baby.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” He slowly peeled open one and then the other, keeping his hand in front of them while they adjusted to the light. After a few seconds, he dropped his arm so you could see two evenly sized, reactive pupils. 

“Good. That’s good.” Lowering the light, you reached for the back of his head before he could think to stop the unwanted touch. Your fingers quickly probed at a wet, raised area. 

“Hey! Tha’ hurts, woman!”

“You’ve got a decent sized bump on your noggin, Dixon. How many fingers am I holding up?” You had perfected the art of ignoring his griping over the span of months you’d spent with him, a feat that the others in your little apocalypse family wished they all could achieve. Or maybe he just wasn’t as grumpy with you to begin with. Your hand hovered between you, three fingers wiggling to get his attention. 

Daryl scoffed and began preparing himself to stand, nonchalantly flipping up his middle finger. “How many m’ I holdin’ up?” 

You sighed with a fond smile, dropping your hand to his arm to help him get to his feet. “Yeah, you’re okay enough to get back to Hershel.” It was a bit of a struggle getting him upright, and he swayed a little before you settled his arm over your shoulders. “I’m driving.” 

“Hell no, ‘ve been through ‘nough today.” His tone was gruff but not angry. 

“And I’d like to make it in one piece. I bet you see two of me right now, don’t you?”

“Wouldn’t be such a bad thing, don’ reckon.” 

You could feel your cheeks burn. You ducked your head when you felt him staring at you and pinched his side playfully. 

“You must’ve really hit your head, Dixon.”

[justaz]

s1ep13 merlin, believing he will be dead by morning, goes to say goodbye to arthur and he leans against the door of arthur’s chambers and watches the glow of the fire light his skin golden, full of color and life that it had been sorely lacking while the prince was injured. he stares at the softness of arthur’s features and pressed the line of his profile into memory for while he passes he will wish for nothing more than to see arthur one last time, his smile and blue eyes one last comfort before he passes on to the otherworld. arthur turns to stare at him and frowns at whatever expression merlin is making. the prince kicks a weak foot out at the chair next to him and motions for merlin to join him. merlin slowly shuffles over but ignores the chair completely. he stops in front of arthur who watches him with wary confusion. the tug of his lips and the furrow of his brow sickeningly endearing and merlin allows himself to be selfish and leans down to press his lips to arthur’s.

the prince is sat frozen under merlin’s touch but he can’t find himself to care much about that, not when he finally knows what it feels like to kiss arthur. he hopes that will be his last sensation before the ever consuming nothing, he hopes he will close his eyes one last time only to find arthur grinning at him and calling him an idiot before leading him into paradise where he can watch arthur smile, hear him laugh, and feel his touch for all eternity. he pulls away and leaves before arthur can gather himself to form a response, dropping the letter explaining everything on the table as he passes. so he allows himself to be selfish twice - to take from arthur and to give, to let himself know what is feels to kiss the man, to embrace his feelings for him, and to have the man know him for who he truly is. he wishes to pass peacefully with no regrets. somehow that revolves entirely around arthur.

only…he survives the whole ordeal and yeah has a gnarly scar on his chest but is otherwise fit to return to his duties. which include taking care of the prince. of arthur. who he kissed. and who most definitely know about his magic by now. yeesh.

[eggyolkguzzler]

I would drag my bare skin against raw hot concrete and spend the entire hot summer under Shane’s nasty bed if I knew I could even get the slightest whiff of your gridball jacket

My brother in Yoba...

[aealzx]

Don had been quick to rush out of the plane to get the infirmary ready, but Leo found it was hard for him to put too much urgency into his movements. Twice now Donnie had reacted better to slow, careful motions than abrupt ones. So Leo found he was continuing to be a lot more gentle and careful than strictly necessary when picking him up. He was completely limp, even after having had two and a half hours of sleep. But at least a little bit of color had returned to his skin now. At least Leo thought he looked a little less pale. When both teens were asleep Don had shown Raphael and Leo the video of what Augustine had ordered to be done, and through it they had learned the assistants had taken nearly a liter of blood from Donnie, along with cutting tissue samples from him. It had been enough to get Raphael rapidly walking the length of the plane several times to calm down, and gave Don more of an idea on how to take care of Donnie. Leo just understood a little more why Donnie had reacted defensively towards him, and hoped the teen didn’t wake up in the middle of them treating him.

“Thank April,” Leo found himself saying distractedly to Mom April as she welcomed them home. It was always nice to get a hug from her, but Leo found he was too anxious to stick around and fully catch them up on everything. “I’m okay, can we talk later? Maybe over dinner? You guys might be able to meet the kids then too.”

“...Sure thing, Leo,” Mom April relented, noting how absent he seemed and not wanting to stress him out more. He always had been the one to worry a lot. Even when they were kids.

Leaving them with Mikey, Leo moved quickly to the infirmary to find Raphael sitting near the surgery table with Lil Mikey in his lap, and Don scurrying around the room to gather the supplies he needed. “Over there, Leo,” Don directed, pointing to one of the beds he’d already started gathering items next to. Obediently following the directions, Leo gingerly lowered Donnie to the soft mattress, silently praying that he didn’t wake up just yet. At least they were all breathing better after each getting at least one dose of the antidote. Leo could only wait patiently for Don to finally stop at the bedside, slipping his tactical sleeves off in the meantime, and by then Raphael had managed to convince Lil Mikey to accept treatment and was casually chatting away with him.

“Okay, I think I got everything. Can you support him so his back is to me? I need to figure out how to get that device off,” Don directed, sounding just slightly breathless. Wordlessly doing as he was directed once again, Leo pulled Donnie upright to lean forward against him, looking over the metal backpack from his angle as well to try and help Don figure out how to safely remove it.

“Hey!” Lil Mikey’s voice suddenly grabbed their attention while Don was running his fingers over the cool metal. “Don’t take that off! He needs it!”

The scolding caused Don to flinch, and turn to look over at the other table. “...Needs it as in it’s physically attached to him and offering some sort of life supporting function?” he asked, wanting clarification on what exactly Lil Mikey meant so he could judge if he actually needed to obey his demand, or explain that it was necessary to remove it. He didn’t want to ignore Lil Mikey’s concerns, but he wasn’t sure if they would hinder treatment for Donnie despite being in good will.

“N-no… Nothing like that. It’s just… it’s not safe for him to have it off. Especially when away from home,” Lil Mikey faltered, having not thought his choice of words would make the others think Donnie was some sort of cyborg.

“...Mikey, it’s okay. You’re both safe here,” Raphael assured, reaching out to rest his palm on Lil Mikey’s shoulder.

“Even if it’s a prosthetic, it’s not safe to wear one while sleeping. And I need to check him for injuries. We saw evidence that Augustine’s people may have done something to his back…,” Don explained gently, understanding that Lil Mikey was still wary despite everything that had happened. He couldn’t expect the teens to trust them fully just yet.

It seemed that mentioning that something may have happened to Donnie’s back was enough to get Lil Mikey to completely flip his stance, sucking in a tense breath and wiggling his feet as he considered. “...There’s a button on the inside of the right shoulder,” he relented, frowning miserably. “Just make sure to be super extra careful, okay?”

“We’ll be extremely careful. Don’t worry,” Don assured, grateful for the tip on where to find the trigger to release the device. Once he knew where to look Don quickly found the button and pressed it, marveling as the shoulder pieces flexed outward with a slight hiss, and the belt went slack. “Fascinating…” he breathed, earning a chuckle from Leo as he hefted the metal aside, distracted by trying to get a quick analysis of it while he moved it away..

As Don took the equipment a short ways away, Leo adjusted his grip to keep Donnie supported against him, resting his hands on the teen’s back. But what he felt caused him to stiffen in shock, suddenly afraid to move. His fingers were able to push into what should have been a hard keratin shell, and when his gaze snapped down he saw a significantly flatter shell with four jagged marks across the surface. “....Donnie get back here now,” Leo blurted rapidly, flexing his fingers just slightly to make sure he wasn’t imagining things.

“What is it- Oh!” Don rushed, semi dropping the backpack device the rest of the way to the floor and rushing back over to them. What he saw caused him to freeze as well, but then he gingerly reached out his fingers to brush against Donnie’s back. “...Oh wow…”

“It’s soft right? What does that mean? Is that bad? Shells aren’t supposed to be soft,” Leo rambled, his concern overflowing and pushing his bubbling thoughts to words before he could fully consider them. What had Augustine’s people done? Was it shell rot? Was it some crazy experimental garbage Augustine had infected him with?

“He’s a softshell you idiots. Stop manhandling him!” Lil Mikey blurted irritably, offended on behalf of his brother for the other two curiously running their hands all over his back. “So rude,” he huffed, creating small chains to wrap around Don’s wrists and pull them away.

“Sorry!” Don gasped, snatching his hands back as the orange chains broke him from his stupor, and not minding Lil Mikey scolding him. “Sorry- Let me just… do some quick research- I thought you were both box turtles like us…,” he rambled, pulling his phone out to access the internet.

“Ohmigosh- He’s not an alien. Just treat him like me, but be extra careful, and make sure you clean your hands and everything you use. Leo- my brother says he’s prone to infections. He’s always using antibiotic stuff on him and making sure he gets washed up properly for even small cuts. Otherwise he does everything else pretty much the same,” Lil Mikey huffed again, rolling his eyes in exasperation.

The interaction caused Raphael to snicker despite the situation. He didn’t want to admit he was curious to head over and take a peek for himself, but he figured Lil Mikey would probably throw him across the room with his chains if he did. So he decidedly remained where he was and continued to be amused from afar.

Don listened to what Mikey said, but also sped read through a few sites and different search parameters before he grew more relaxed and sure of his thoughts. “Infection… right, that would explain the fever,” he spoke, mostly to himself, then nodded firmly. “Okay. I got this. Leo, go ahead and lay him back down, then get some water and antibacterial soap. They both need to be cleaned up, and I’ll check the incision sites…”

Leo wasn’t quite as sure of himself as Don was, but at least he had directions now. What Don said made sense to him. If Donnie got infections easily then getting him cleaned up from the grim on him was a priority. Resting him back on the bed, Leo darted off to fetch a soft rag, soap, and water so he could wash off the debris from Augustine’s facility. Don had returned to his focused state after he started peeling the bandaids off, carefully inspecting each injury as he did so. He could at least count it a small blessing that Augustine had apparently ordered only the smallest possible samples be taken. The cuts were only 15 millimeters wide, and less than a millimeter thick. But it looked like they were pretty deep, and Don gingerly cleaned each wound again before rubbing antibiotic ointment on them and getting them covered again.

It didn’t take long before Don had finished addressing the injuries, started an IV with a small amount of antibiotics added to it, and strapped a heart monitor to Donnie’s finger just in case. When he began pulling a blanket over Donnie and tucking him in, Leo knew the treatment was done for now, and asked what he’d been wondering for a while now. “Is he going to be okay?”

Don paused for a second to think, but nevertheless nodded. “I think so. Aside from the bloodloss there isn’t anything incredibly concerning. I think he’s just incredibly exhausted, and that’s why he hasn’t woken up yet. We’ll need to keep an eye on him of course, but at this point I think it’s safe to just let him sleep. The IV fluids will help until his body restores the blood he lost, and we’ll need to get him a good meal when he’s up. But he’ll be fine.”

The explanation, and plans for what to do later, earned a sigh of relief from Leo. It could have been much, much worse. He was glad that, aside from Lil Mikey’s gunshot wound, nothing seemed to be critically serious. “I’ll go check what Mikey is cooking then. And let Master Splinter know we’re all home safe, in case he’s still up.”

“You know he is,” Don gave a small grin, and slight shake of his head.

Leo just laughed quietly, rising to his feet to head to the exit. “Yeah, I know.”

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the fun thing about adding drawings to these is that I can throw in random lil details without derailing the story X'D

Also after seeing some of the comments, don't worry, they're all gonna be fine. I don't believe in hurt without comfort =3= Donnie is just taking an extreme nap to process all the overstimulation and stuff.

[gallifreyanhotfive]

I once tried to make a list of every single major injury the Doctor had ever gotten in every story I've watched/listened to/read, and I was immediately overwhelmed by the amount of shit this wet paper bag of a Time Lord went through.

Like guys I tried so hard, and the list got so long! But damn it, the amount of injuries/illnesses/possessions/etc this guy has gone through is too immense.

Like he got possessed? Again? By whom?

He's been infected with some sort of pathogen? Which one?

He's been tied up again? Regular manacles or in strappado?

He's been shot? Normal gun or time reaver or whatever horrible thing you can think of?

Stabbed? How many times this time?

He lost a limb? Which one? Was it his legs again this time? Or another hand?

Is one of his hearts poisoning him?

Has he been drugged and abducted again?

How many times have they been burned for witchcraft?

How many times have they been put on the rack?

Was he put through so much pain that he fell unconscious again?

Don't even talk about that one time he got beheaded; that audio sucked ass.

Did his brain get fried by an electromagnetic pulse?

Was he exposed to the full rays of the sun without SPF?

Has he been stuck in a time bubble for so long that he's forgotten who he is?

Does he have nerve damage again?

Did they have a heart attack?

Did they experience regenerative collapse?

Is he suffering through his symbiotic link to a a weak and dead TARDIS?

Was he stuck in his TARDIS for 10 years after being irradiated, unable to get to the console and about to regenerate?

I need to just end this post here, or I'll be adding things to the list for hours.

[jasmines-library]

Unbroken Valour

WHUMPTOBER DAY 28: Prompt ‘Sacrifice’

Fandom: Batfam

Summary: Ignoring his orders, Tim leaves to face the Joker after he escapes Arkham. Fearing for his safety, you chase after him and when he is put in a life threatening position, you don't think. You just do.

Warnings: Major character Death, description of wounds, impalement. It's just angsty. Im sorry.

Word count: 1.5k

MASTERLIST ⛤ WHUMPTOBER WORKS

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

Sometimes there is no rational reason for things happening. Sometimes things just happen whether we want them to or not. And sometimes there is no way to stop the inevitable from happening. Like there is no way to stop the sun rising in the east and setting in the west, there was no way from stopping you.

You ran. Fast. Feet pounding against the concrete. Your breath quickened, heart pounding against your ribcage. Tim was mere feet away from you now, scuffling with the Joker. He was good, but the Joker was bigger and better. Tim looked measly next to him. He wasn’t supposed to be out here alone.The Joker had just escaped from Arkham and was as gloriously out of his mind as ever.  Tim was under strict orders and you had pleaded at him not to go, but your words fell on deaf ears. So, as soon as he left you were pulling on your suit and dashing through the streets of Gotham to reach him. 

Tim ducked as the Joker swung an arc that missed his head by mere millimetres, jostling his hair. Tim slid, trying to knock the Joker’s feet from under him but missed as he stepped away. And then the haunting sound of his laughter filled the alleyway, echoing down the stone walls like a song. The villain, noticing your presence, turned to face you with a shit eating grin. 

“Aw” He pouted, “Did the little birdy have to call his big sister for backup?”

Tims head snapped up as he stared you briefly in the eye. Brief, because he used the Joker’s moment of weakness to tackle him to the ground. As the pair scuffled on the ground, delivering blows and rough punches, you slid across the ground to grab Tim’s bo staff that had been discarded on the ground at some point during the struggle. When the vigilante finally managed to free himself, you tossed the staff toward him and reddied yourself, planting your feet firmly into the ground and squeezing your brass knuckles tightly to your palm by clenching your hand into a fist. They were cold against your clammy skin. You also patted the side of your suit to ensure your batarangs were secure within the folds of the fabric. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” Tim whispered at you through his clenched jaw as the Joker weighed up his options. 

The villain surged forwards trying to tackle Tim once again, but you raised your fist back and slammed it into the side of his cheek. 

“Saving your life.” You grunted as he recoiled, bringing a calloused hand to his reddening cheek and frowning. It was an odd contrast to the lengthy scars that gave him his permanent smile. 

“Ouch.” The joker straightened, making a beeline for you. 

Dropping, you allowed your brother to make a move this time. It caught him off guard, causing him to waver unsteadily on his feet, but he didn’t fall to the ground as you hoped. Instead he reached into his pocket and brandished a slender, silver pistol. 

You and Tim shared a look. Batman had two rules. Number one, No guns. Number two, No killing. The joker was about to break both and the pair of you were helpless to stop it. There was no hesitation in the villain's face as he pressed his finger to the trigger, arm jerking with the recoil of the gun. You flinched at the noise, anticipating a scream that never came. When you opened your eyes again. A single fraying flag hung from the tip of the barrel, printed across it in bold letters it read ‘Bang! You’re dead.’.

The Joker cackled maniacally to himself. “You should have seen your faces!”

Tim allowed his body to relax slightly, releasing the tension from his shoulders when he realised that there was no bullet lodged in either of you. You however were still on high alert. Your eyes widened as the realisation dawned on you. 

“Red… Get behind me.”

The Joker pouted. "oh, Y/N? Why so serious?"

“What?” Confusion crinkled across his face as he scrunched his nose together. 

“Red!”

You didn’t allow Tim any more time to move as the Joker pressed his finger down onto the trigger again, sending the flag harpooning towards him. You didn’t think, just jumped in front of him, knocking him to the side. 

You gasped as it pierced through your suit, and then layers of your skin and muscle until the spear scraped across bone. You stared at the offending weapon, lodged deep within your chest gawping at the flag flapped in the breeze. Hands reaching up, you pressed your hand to the spear, feeling the warm blood pool around your fingers and soak into the front of your suit. You swayed on your feet. 

As Tim recovered from your shove, reality hit him like a brick wall. 

“What the hell did you do!?” He screamed at the suited man, chasing after him when he tried to flee, but alone and distracted, Tim stood no chance. He released a batarang which soared through the air, skimming his sleeve. Though it has found its target, the tear in his arm was nowhere near enough to stop the Joker as he vanished into the streets. 

“Y/N…” Tim hushed under his breath as he raced towards you. You swayed before collapsing to your knees with a cry of excruciating pain. He caught you as he skidded to your side and lay you gently in his arms. 

“Oh God…” He choked at the sight of the river of red flowing from your body. He didn’t know what to do. His hands shook. 

You took one in yours, not caring for the fact that you would get them all covered in blood. Although you were older than Tim, your hand was considerably smaller than his and it fit snugly laced between his fingers. Somehow, amid the panic, Tim had managed to press the emergency button on his suit. 

You smiled up at him sadly. His attention was on you and only you as you forced out a word through blood stained teeth. “Tim?”

“No.” He shook his head, not even bothering to try and hide the swell of emotions that bubbled to the surface of his voice. “No. You don’t get to do this to me. To us.”

His other hand pressed down firmly against the wound around the spear. He knew to keep it in, but he sight of it made him want to hurl, so instead he focused on your face and the way your eyebrows twitched each time there was a new jolt of pain spreading across chest. 

“You can’t stop it, Tim.” You said sadly. “There is nothing that you can do…”

“No. I can- I” He pressed harder on the wound, fumbling over his words. A rouge tear slipped down his face. “You’re not dying. You’re not. Help is coming, just don't close your eyes, Okay? You keep them open, you hear?”

“Tim…” You reached out your other hand to cup his cheek and wipe away the fresh bout of tears. 

“You promised me!” he cried. “You promised me that you would always be there for me!”

That cut deeper than the spear. Hearing your little brother say those words, you felt like someone had grabbed your heart and squeezed, ripping up your heartstrings as they went. It was a promise you had made all those years ago when he was brought in by Bruce, scared of being alone. That night you had wrapped him up closely and promised that you weren’t leaving him any time soon.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry…” Concentrating was getting harder now as Tim swam before you. White dots began to form in your vision and you squeezed your little brother’s hand as hard as you could with what little of your depleting strength you had left, begging him to listen this time. “Take care of Damian for me and-” You took a wheezy breath “And be good for Dick and Jason.”

“Stop it. You don’t get to do this to me now y/n-”

“Tell the boys that I love them.” You whispered. Your body began to go numb but you gave him a gentle smile anyway. “And I love you, Tim Drake. Remember that.”

“Y/N?!” 

Your gaze drifted from Tim as you felt your life slipping away. 

“I’ll see you around, little brother.” 

Your hand went slack in his and your body slumped against his chest. He cried your name, letting the tears flow freely as you took your last breath. 

It was then that the wretched footsteps came rushing towards them, and Dick faltered at the sight of Tim covered in your blood as he clung to you tighter, pressing down harshly on the gaping hole. The spear still sat there, cruel and relentlessly. Dick stepped forwards, but it was no use. You were already gone. 

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

<- DAY 27 𖤐 DAY 29->

taglist:

@senjoritanana

@deans-spinster-witch

@amaryllis23

[duoatomica]

"An angel makes itself look scary to pry away evil."

Grimmel's nightmare

(and very much the reason he has avoided killing light furies in 40+ years and only hunts night furies)

"Bloodstain"

"Once a common light fury, now something terrible, oh the things that I've done and deeply regret, hunting this one is the top one.

As I've said, a common light fury despite its reddish tones, a contrast to the blue standard of the species, this should've been enough of a sign that the creature wasn't just a normal, ordinary dragon such as the ones I've hunted for years.

I found it in the forest, drinking some water, at that time I was only about twenty years old, I was young, careless and proud, I decided to use my dragons to attack him. Again, I was careless, I just wanted to kill as many of the strongest, biggest, most dangerous dragons out there and seek my village's praise.

My deathgrippers pounced, the white dragon screeched and fought back, bit and scratched, it was also young and weak, it couldn't escape, atleast not with a wing, its eyes and its left front paw.

The dragon flew away with what was rest of its left wing, it surprisingly managed to take off with that little nub of bones and membranes the Deathgrippers had left behind.

I cursed, spat harsh words at myself and did something I wish I had kept my mouth shut not to do.

I swore, to Odin and above, that we'd meet again, one day, didn't know when. But one day I surely would see the dragon once more.

Three years passed, I had evolved little, but enough to develop some hunting skills here and there, I studied like a damned man, I improved some of my weapons, felt like a new man.

I was once again in the forests with my eight dragons, controlled by no one other than me. So I stood by a berry bush, feeling hungry, I bent down to pick some.

Why did I do that, for Thor's sake.

I heard something approaching, quickly, before I could react I was under a mass of snow-white flesh, being stared at by those empty eye sockets, drooled at by that mouth full of sharp teeth. That demon, it was back. I swore it would come back. And it did, but not how I've expected it to.

I was attacked ferociously, oh, the agony, only I knew the pain of those sharp claws like blades tearing my skin, those teeth trying their best to split my neck in two. I screamed.

My deathgrippers, as loyal as they are, showed up in an instant and again jumped at the light fury, mangling it, but that dragon was no longer a little cub. The battle between one and the eight was fierce, surprisingly the white dragon managed to kill two of them, leaving only six for me to keep.

I almost died that night, my body so mangled it was bordering unrecognizable, I still have a lotta scars, some awful pains here and there.

From that day on, the one who swore we'd meet again was the dragon. This demon has been in my mind since then, in my dreams, terrifying me, making me fear even the slightest movement in the corner of my room.

This bastard knows, it knows very well where I am now, he always knew, all its attacks are very precise and cautious, therefore brutal. I have grown older, stronger and smarter, I have found ways to penetrate that creature's mind, I can also know where it is, but by the gods, the migraines after these little mind-connecting rituals are nearly deadly.

This has been causing me constant paranoia, I may not know if this light fury is right behind me right now.

I've just checked, it isn't.

Ah, the name? I know it doesn't make sense for a cloud-white dragon to be named Bloodstain, considering the crimson red left in many fabrics and anywhere slightly stainable.

But the fool is the one who thinks that the name refers to it, me as the self-centered person that I painfully admit to be, it is a reference to myself.

Me and the blood pools that formed around my body after the attack, the stains on my long discarded clothes, I remember them as I remember my mother's name.

I concluded a long time ago that this is more than a living being."

-Grimmel the Grisly.