#mild gore and violence

[bepisbee]

Till Death do us Part Ch 1&2 CHAPTERS

read on ao3

Takes place after manga by about 4 years (they're 25 ish now) and the manga events took place over a 3 years timespan

Till Death do us Part

[You see through the lies

What's hiding behind

My blasphemous eyes

The secrets I hide

Oh, I love you so

I love you so

I'll love you 'til death do us part]

He’d always known he was not like his counterparts. The other parts of Link. Wasn’t he supposed to be good?? Was he?

If Vio confessed his truth, he would answer plainly with “No.” and a deadpan expression. There were more layers to it than that. How do you tell the literal embodiment of light that you had never intended to betray the darkness. How they really made you feel. At ease, at home, content. Safe. He hadn’t joined Shadow Link out of some big brained scheme to find information and infiltrate their lair.

He joined because it called to him, and the call said “Welcome Home,”

The first time he had found his magic he was alone. A small walk from camp. The other colors had tiny amounts of magic, mostly adept towards a single element or path, or school if one would. Vio was replaying the thought as he came across a dead rabbit carcass, fresh. His heart raced. His lack of disgust confused him, instead blooming in his chest was a curiosity. He felt a cold rush in his veins as he kneeled down and reached a hand out. Purple shrouded his hand in whisps and sunk into the flesh on contact. Vio jumped back startled as its eyes snapped open, it hopped up, and ran under a bush.

He did not tell the others. In a tower far away gazing into a mirror, their Shadow noticed…

In the Woods Somewhere

[My head was warm, my skin was soaked

I called your name till the fever broke

When I awoke, the moon still hung

The night, so black that the darkness hums

I raised myself, my legs were weak

I prayed my mind be good to me

An awful noise filled the air

I heard a scream in the woods somewhere]

Boots padded down the hallway of the castle as Vio walked. He was expected to attend some talk about the forest near where he had traveled during their adventure. If he could even call it that. Vio’s hand wandered to the two rings on a chain necklace hiding in his tunic. His and Shadow’s. Vio sighed and let his thoughts wander to the forest as he filed in with uptight diplomats and stuffy old men. He could use some forest time. The beauty of it, the scent of fresh outside at night. Alluring.

Alluring. That was all that filled his mind as he walked the moonlit forest. Despite his new discoveries and separation from the group he felt calm. The sounds of the deep forest, the wind, and smell of pine around him were comforting.

He stepped into a clearing, looking up at the full moon. It was so bright it would have been impossible to miss the silhouette covering a portion from the tree top. The hat of the figure curled around with magic. His heart stopped.

“Shadow Link.” 

The shaded figure floated down dramatically in front of him. They sure knew how to make an entrance.

“Hello, darling.” The smirk revealed a small fang. Why did it make his heart race so fast? There was a pounding in his ears. Shadow stepped closer. “Talk to me for a minute,” they drawled. “I’ll listen. I want to know.” they were even closer. “Tell me all the things they won’t understand.”

“Why would I do that?” It didn’t come out as cold as he was trying to be.

“We’re not so different,” They wrapped their arms around his neck and melted into him. His body turned into a puddle of goopy shadows. Honestly they hadn’t intended to do that, but the electric shock jolting from touching Vio surprised them. Shadow couldn’t give away that hand yet. “You and I…”

Vio swallowed thickly, “I…” he felt his grip on his sword loosen. He wasn’t sure when he had even pulled it out.

“I know what you are,” Shadow whispered so Vio would have to lean into them to hear it. “I saw you in the woods that day. What power!” they praised.  “Stunning, wonderful, unique.”

“W-what?” his shoulders slackened and he dropped the sword. “You aren’t… you don’t think I’m a freak?”

“No, darling. I think you are extraordinary.” his heterochromatic eyes glowed behind half lidded eyes. “And I need to know more.”

Vio shook the memory from his thoughts. He really should have been paying attention to this meeting. Zelda’s knight advisor was giving a debrief about a dying portion of the forest, a side effect of some remaining Gannon’s dark poison. He knew what it had really been, most likely him showing off and playing with Shadow, but hell if he would say it. She still didn’t know about his powers. He knew she suspected he was hiding something. He was hopeful she thought it was just him harboring feelings still for Shadow Link. He gave an internal sigh.

Vio would much rather be thinking of the mass exchanges for life than the argument of entering the poisoned zone or not. Things plaguing his mind as of late: How much power exactly would it cost to bring back one life? Where would he get a vessel? Could he make one? Would it simply cost significantly more to summon the creation of a new body? Who would he choose, did they have to be alive? Necromancy was hard.

Yes, necromancy. He had finally put a name to the powers. It had taken him years and access to ancient texts and books from the restricted section. It had taken him only a year to learn the Lorulian language they were written in. It was surprisingly simple once he realized the letters and words were almost all backwards Hylian.

Oh, the Princess noticed him staring off into a space. He blinked at her. Another person's voice was droning on in the background. He raised a brow at her: ‘what?’

She gave a stern face: ‘you aren't paying attention’ or maybe: ‘pay attention! stop daydreaming about your dead boyfriend/soulmate!’

Not that she knew about that last bit. He rolled his eyes and pretended to focus on the elderly man stumbling through a report. Fuck this was going to be a long day. Back to daydream brain land, he decided to recall how the forest sector got to that state.

Vio’s hands shook in nervous excitement. He knew. Shadow already knew, and they wanted to see it. There was no disgust or judgment, they were interested. Vio gulped and took a big breath in and out to settle himself. Deep magic curled out from himself in purple wisps, pouring from his fingertips. The air around them dropped dramatically in temperature and all sounds of the night ceased. All creatures, bugs, and even the whistle of gentle wind went silent. Below him the grass began decaying as he took life from it for his own use. The lack.of light of the new moon dramatized the suction of life force.

Shadow looked around them at the change. If Vio had learned one thing, it was that Shadow was surprisingly observant. They understood what it meant, as strings wrapped around his fingertips. They looked back at their companion to watch the magic turn his sclera black and irises purple. Vio began to weave it. He unfurled the wisps into the deer carcass they had set up. The trees began turning a sicky ash color. The deer sprang up onto its feet, wobbling.

“Holy shit that’s amazing.” They put a hand on his shoulder. Vio’s body temperature was probably a quarter less and yet he seemed totally okay. He looked over at him, surprised at the contact. He hadn’t thought about it before last night, the vast difference in body language. 

The unnerving aura around him pushed away the colors. Small casual touches like that were never offered to him. Red didn’t even hug him. Vio didn't realize how much he needed it before Shadow gave it to him so willingly. Their hand reached into a half hug around him. They were so warm.

Vio missed touch. It ached into his core making him more bitter. The meeting had adjourned finally. He got up, mind still full but at the very least paying attention to where he was going. He dodged Zelda’s obvious beeline towards him. He did not have the emotional energy for her questioning. Vio made his way back outside, slipping between talking guards. He still had daylight  to gather herbs and such in the forest.

His mind wandered back again.

“You’re amazing, sweetheart,” Shadow cupped his face. “Can I kiss you?” The pet names gave him somersaults in his stomach.

“Whuh?? k-kiss? me??” He flustered at their close contact. Shadow’s pretty face inches away. Their warmth breaths mingling. They sat on a large rock in the middle of the plain they were in before.

“Yes, you.” They chuckled “I really like you, Vio.”

“I-” he gasped softly. “Okay,”

They kissed. It was a bit messy, neither of them really knowing what to do. Shadow knicked their lip with a fang, but sucked it clean. Vio shuddered and gripped him hard. Heat flushed through him and into his cheeks.

He moved his hood to cover more of  his flushed face at the memory. Not that anyone was around him and his horse anymore to see, just at the entrance to the Deep Minish Woods.

Between his and Shadow’s touch deprivation it was no surprise their relationship had escalated physically so quickly and so often. Hand holding, casual touches and glances, into much, much more. Vio cleared his throat and guided his horse to the worn path that would take him where he needed.

Certain mushroom types that would only grow in autumn in wet wood. Supposedly they could help him. Some potion that imitated an ether but for his specific magic type. It wouldn’t be more than another hour's ride back to his small home in between the woods and Lake Hylia. It was the optimal spot and far enough from town people didn’t bother him. Just how he liked it.

Vio picked his ingredients and sealed the pouch. That would do for today.

[starry-bi-sky]

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

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

------------

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s dead. He’s dead. He’s dead. 

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

He has no mouth, but he must scream. 

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

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

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

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

Scrappy is just not enough. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Being dead is agony. 

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

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

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

Being dead hurts. 

[levemetal]

Day 1: Destined / Doomed

Doomed eternally by the narrative. No fucking clue where I was going with this one. Lineart is not my fortee. Well, art isn't my fortee but you know.

It's fucking midnight and now officially September 1st here where I live so f u this counts.

[arbuthnotblob]

Pulled this Dragon Prince fanart off the eternal WIP pile four years after I started it [itsbeenfouryearsohgodhowww] - a little what-if of Viren and Harrow fighting together before all the events that tore them apart! Also incorporating some now-old fanon about Viren having a bum leg, so I... Skyrim'd him. I'm severely behind on DP now, but the Viren and Harrow dynamic and all the pitfalls therein is probably what still holds the most interest for me - just can't resist Hubristically Doomed Middle-Aged Men, I guess xD

Of course being set before Certain Events means Amaya AND Sarai can hold the braincell and dive in to save these idiots from whatever situation they've gotten themselves into!

[choctalksalot]

a dirk jake? how will dirk get ajake . now

[probablybadrpgideas]

Oh no, you crit failed summon monster! Instead of a monster you summon (roll a d20):

A single goblin who is unable to fight your enemies but is very enthusiastic to try

An unimpressed horse

The monster you wanted to summon, but high off its tits on acid

Ben Shapiro

An extremely confused Grey Knight Space Marine

Just a fuck ton of fancy soaps

Your own spleen

A mimic who's very embarrassed at being seen non-shapeshifted

The monster you want to summon but at 200mph

Every monster ever published in any D&D book ever all at once

The IRL game group

A heartwarming narrative about identity and personal growth in the american west

An asteroid the size of Scotland

The Discourse

An exact mental and physical copy of yourself who insists that they just summoned you

Your dad who went to the store to "get milk" 20 years ago

D&D First Edition

Late Stage Capitalism

The monster you wanted to summon but deconstructed into inch-square parts

My fist into your face. Fuck you.

[via-the-cryptid]

so we rejoin the story to find the Riddler having a crisis over the fact that Ellie somehow Does Not Know Who Batman Is. Ace is trying to explain it to her, except the Riddler can’t see Ace and is therefore considering the fact that the weird little girl he picked up might have a legitimate mental disorder that’s causing her to hallucinate. however his prevailing theory is that the toxin from the bullet (because of course it’s toxin, why else would it be green?) is messing with her head, so maybe she’ll make more sense once that’s dealt with.

except then he tries to say something about cleaning the wound and trying to get all the green out so she doesn’t get poisoned any further, and she fuckin goes.

“Oh, it’s supposed to be like that.”

“What?”

yeah, so fun fact for you, Eddie: Ellie’s insides are just green sometimes. and she’s not explaining why. there’s a reason, yes, allegedly a very good and normal reason according to her, but she’s not going to tell you what it is.

Lovely.

“Well, will you at least let me clean it?” He asks, not entirely believing that her blood is Supposed To Be A Little Bit Mostly Green. “Infections are a serious business, you know, they’ll eat away at your flesh if you don’t know what to—”

And Ellie just shrugs. “Yeah, whatever. As long as I come out of this with as much flesh as I went in with.”

And what the fuck does she mean by that. Is that an issue for her? Tissue theft? Do people regularly attempt to make off with her flesh? Every word out of this child’s mouth makes him more and more baffled and concerned.

Ellie, of course, is well aware of the fact that sometimes she would go into Vlad’s lab and then leave with less mass than she had before, so it’s quite a valid concern for her. Ellie also does not entirely know what a hospital or infirmary is, and therefore is under the impression that all people-fixing happens in a lab, since that’s how it went with both Vlad and Danny. Ace’s account of experimentation only supports that, although Ace is at least somewhat aware of what a hospital is.

so Eddie takes his newly acquired headache back to his base, grabs the first aid kit, and comes back into the room he left her in to find that yes, her blood is both green and red, and yes, it’s now on his floor. and so is the bullet.

“Can’t leave you alone for five minutes, Jesus Christ,” he mutters, punching the bridge of his nose. Ellie is unsympathetic.

“You were taking too long and I wanted the bullet out.”

Above her, Ace is sighing, though Eddie can’t hear it. “I told you to be careful. You could have waited for tweezers. I know he was bringing them.”

“Yeah, well, my fingers worked, didn’t they? I don’t need his tweezers.”

“Who are you talking to?”

“Ceiling ghost.”

“…What?”

“I said what I said. She’s unimpressed by you, by the way.”

“I— what? Why is a ceiling ghost judging me? And for that matter, whose ghost is in my ceiling?!”

“That’s irrelevant! You should work on being someone the ceiling ghost can be proud of, dammit!”

(Eddie is very close to throwing something, but Ace is laughing for the first time since Ellie’s met her, so. Ellie can’t really bring herself to regret antagonizing the question man.)

[ghosts-and-glory]

Just gonna scatter some more cotl doodles and wips and scram.

Sketchbook image is pens, gauche and a white pencil.

Also some frames for a mini comic I’m slowly working on. They’re out of order so just you try and deduce context from them.

[fungus-no69]

hope lovecraft is rolling in his grave as I write this. I hope more people write about eldritch horrors being gay and shit. lovecraftian gay sex… (i do not write smut)

Context: it is a beautiful day in rapechestershire and you are a horrible monstrosity

Content: Body horror I guess, reader is a little petty (deserved), dol typical bullying, brief and non graphic gore in Kylar’s, mentioned animal death in Remy’s (you are Eating The Cows), some spoilers for Ivory Wraith’s lore

Remembering to oxidise your body is a burden, making your heart beat is a chore, remembering to move the rest of your vessel with your expressions is tiring. What do animals even need these rigid pieces of flesh for?

…though you quickly realised the value of muscles when your meat began to droop around your faux bones which is something you’re fairly certain does not happen to mortals.

Of course, you can’t maintain a full rest while above water in this fashion. You’ve come to learn that humans do not particularly enjoy a mass of greasy limbs, mottled flesh and gunky mucus spread on the floor. 'Sleeping' is nice though, as limited as your opportunities are. Humans are fickle creatures and that also applies to their sleeping habits.

Nonetheless. You need to practise your human-form-making skills. And what better way to learn about appearing more human than to attend the industry of learning itself?

Whitney:

Why this blonde mortal took an interest in you? You're not sure.

One day they were there and they never left

They’re always poking at your vessel. Rude…

Thanks to them and their lackeys you had to learn how to fake falling over when punched because apparently it’s strange to just stand there and take a hit without flinching.

They know somethings wrong with you but they can’t put their finger on it, this leads to even more bullying

Most of their harassment is about how you look and act apart from the straight up sexual assault.

They once saw you slip up on your transformation because it was a particularly irritating day and you briefly reintroduced your habit of scaring off others by posturing.

Not your finest moment, I say. They passed out because your mutilated structure was too much for their poor human mind to handle.

Thankfully you can help them forget the incident or write it off as some weird drug induced hallucination. (by distracting them with something inconvenient when they wake up. Like an ice cube in their mouth. Or a cut to their gums.)

You can’t let something like that happen again

Sydney:

You don't know why they're looking at you weirdly. You have the correct amount of teeth this time. You checked.

They help you out when people ask you stupid questions like 'are you a ventriloquist?' 'how can you bend that far?' and 'hey where'd your elbows go?'

It’s always awkward to dismiss yourself during those encounters, considering your ‘schoolmates’ don’t tend to let things go and are rather fixated on following their more malicious instincts towards you than letting you leave. So Sydney’s help is appreciated.

You leave little gifts for them in the library. A book you found in the lake and dried, the foot of a rabbit (humans find that lucky right?), little shiny objects you discover while walking around.

You’re far from weak or incapable but Sydney’s interventions make keeping up the act more bearable.

Over time they find that they become enamoured with you and that’s terrifying to them. One, because they’ve never felt like this before and two, Jordan seems to disapprove of you in some way? They don’t explain why but they warn Sydney about you. Which raises some issues which you don't completely understand for all of your infinite (old) wisdom.

As they become more corrupted, they get a bit more pushy with their ‘subtle’ questions about you- thankfully they never nag for too long.

You fear that Sydney, loyal and kind Sydney, will leave you when they find your true nature. That they will find you repulsive like many before them.

Thus, you will hide your true nature from them. No matter how often they ask or the fact that they know something is off- you can never let them confirm those suspicions.

Kylar:

You see the way the shadows loom over this mortal- they are more connected to the other worlds than they realise.

This draws you to them in a way, having someone who is more connected to your home than everyone around you. And them to you, though you suspect this may have happened regardless of your identity.

Kylar is another anomaly in a sea of others who look different but are fundamentally indiscernible. If you were to cut open a human and pry open their ribcage, you would find the same thing in each one. But not yours. And perhaps not Kylar’s.

They seem to feel a strange compulsion to protect you. You’ve seen this type of behaviour with Sydney and maybe Whitney to an extent, but never to the intensity that a knife was procured.

You understand that the utensil is sharp but you're a little bit confused to why the students run away when they see it? Stabbing someone requires strength and you're fairly certain Kylar is not very strong.

Surprisingly, they were the first one to ask about why you speak the way you do. When asked what they meant they told you that you speak in a very formal manner. Your expression must have made a change in some way because they quickly apologise profusely for offending you. It doesn't.

If you sulk about it a little then that's nobody's business other than your own.

Harper:

You get sent to the asylum for your silly behaviour (crimes and general strangeness that does not pass for mentally healthy) and Harper tries to gaslight you "there are no tentacles they aren't real" explain this.

You don’t have a firm grasp on human behaviour yet, especially when it comes to being polite but c'mon. Even you know this guy is a weirdo.

They will inevitably learn about your true nature regardless of how hard you conceal it.

Hypnotism doesn’t work on you, your blood is too dark and thin to resemble a human’s, sometimes you forget to make your heart beat etc.

They’re not as freaked out as you thought they’d be but they do want to run some tests on you

You say no thank you because even if it’s just for ‘personal research’ you don’t want your inhumanity on record (and Harper’s a creep)

They attempt to blackmail you in a sense but you stand strong on your opinion. Who would they tell and even then, who would believe them? And then there’s the fact that there is no human nor invention that can contain or incapacitate you.

You may meet them on your vacation to Remy’s farm, they’re initially confused to see you there but just as easily accept it. As much as they want to understand you- you’re not exactly human, so they don’t expect you to act by the rules of humans.

It would almost be nice if they didn’t finish their little spiel by dragging you to a stage. Stares make your epidermis feel like there’s little bugs underneath it and you feel the urge to peel it off to escape the unpleasant sensation. You don’t, because that would reveal you.

You end your holiday by trashing their office.

Remy:

You originally came across their farm because you were hungry. Remy, of course, noticed the dwindling population of their cows and went to investigate. Lo and behold- they found you.

They don’t know for sure if you’re involved in the missing cows but they suspect you’ve stolen them or something. Not that you ate them.

You allow yourself to be captured, you could annihilate these puny humans if you wanted to but something tells you this place will grant you rest and food.

The fact they stole your clothes was mildly irritating but you can easily get some when you return 'home'. What do humans call it? The five finger discount? You're not sure what having five fingers has to do with saving currency but you appreciate it regardless.

You don’t develop transformations. You lack the biology to do so, but seeing other cattle develop their features tips you off to the fact you’re supposed to be gaining ears and such so you try to replicate them…

The farmhand who opens your stable in the morning almost shits their pants

You don’t try again after that.

Remy is wondering why their cattle are STILL disappearing.

Ivory Wraith:

They are much similar to yourself, tethered to this mortal realm through an object. Though their emotions are a bit more… uncontrollable than yours.

But perhaps that came with being human. Formerly, you suppose. Not that you would know what it’s like to be human.

They know your existence is eternal, will last for much longer than their own given their own circumstances.

Inevitably, they belong to this world and you do not.

Nonetheless you understand each other to a point, with both of you being non human and somewhat incorporeal.

They vaguely recognise you from long ago, a painting or two within the temple depicting a monster. They had never really examined it, being too unsettled to do so.

They also remember that during the schism, they felt the presence of something much larger than themself. They suspect it may be you, though they’re not certain.

No matter, you're here now.

…

It is the first time you have felt desire for something other than rest in centuries.

You have never been one to want. You do not experience emotion as deeply as mortals (or former mortals) do, somehow simultaneously deeper but so shallowly. You do not feel affection, and even if you have, it has surely been so long since then that you have forgotten. And yet…

You think this strange feeling in your fleshy midsection is the closest to love you can get.

[ballinkittymeowmeow45]

Hi funger community.. this took about so long to make and I hate jt, anyway it’s angst

The tag is my user on TikTok, you should follow me there🔥

[ex-january]

looks like it hurts

[krashlite]

lil exercise i did awhile ago hehe

[doodleimprovement]

Partners In Crime

Chapter 1: Twilight Zone

Circumstance has never been kind to Stanley Pines - when had it ever? But when he gets in over his head yet again, and nearly bleeds out his stitches in a dank alleyway in some shit-hole city in Texas, he wasn't expecting help to come in the form of a nurse from his home state with a similarly shitty situation on her hands. Maybe they can help each other get the hell out of here, and maybe he can even get a friend in the process? A loser like him can only hope...

Probably the weirdest and also most traditionally mature fic I've ever written/am writing. Will be slow to post but I hope Ya'll like it!

Also had fun making up a fake cheesy 80s movie poster for it lol

[b0amagination]

Tastes of Whumptober: Day 4

Content Warnings: Mild gore (descriptions of blood), Needles (into a port, not hypodermic), IV port, Lab whump. All under the cut out of caution!

Sensory Deprivation

The sedative wore off at the same time it always did and they groaned, wishing just for once to curl up and go back to sleep. They had five minutes, or ten if they were lucky… but being found still asleep was never worth it. Old and new wounds complained against the arduous process of standing up and feeling for the door.

Sure enough, the fluorescent lights buzzed to life overhead just as they exited the attached bathroom. 

“Good morning, dear.” Their captor greeted, gesturing to the chair. Of course, always straight to business with him. But they wavered.

The chair wouldn’t have stood out to an outsider as anything other than a black leather armchair. Sure, it was the only dark item in the starkly clinical room, but that only made it all the more inviting if you didn’t know its use.

“You should take a day off. You’re practically married to your work,” they tried.

“You’re my work, and I don’t think either of us want that,” he shot back, removing four vials from his shoulder bag and setting each neatly on the tray. 

The chair. The tray. They were all laughably foreboding. Laughter never eased the fear.

“That’s new.” They knew the first three. Nutrition supplement, immune support, and hydration supplement. Administered every day like clockwork. Days with any more were days to be feared, but they’d started to recognize which drug was which. This was definitely new.

“Yes. Take your seat.” 

Always the same goddamn phrase to warn them they were going too far. 

“Ring a bell and I’ll probably start slobbering,” they muttered, perching on the edge of the chair. He hummed, unwrapping a needle and drawing out the nutrition supplement.

“Thank Pavlov for lessening that network of scars on your body.” His smile was pleasant as always. In another life where he wasn’t so sick and twisted he was probably a medical provider. 

He moved the neck of their shirt aside to access their IV port and inject the liquid, doing the same practiced motions two more times before their hand shot up to cover the port. Disappointed eyes fell upon them.

“Never without some kind of struggle, are you?” 

“I just want to know what it is before you do it.”

“You’ll like it. Now move.”

He pried their fingers apart wide enough to push the needle in and depress the plunger. Then he stood back and grabbed his clipboard, probably noting some bullshit about volumes and concentrations, and clicked a stopwatch.

“Tell me when your back stops hurting,” he instructed, and their eyes widened.

“You gave me painkillers? Seriously?” Somehow, they were more nervous than before.

“Something like that.”

When he wanted serious data he didn’t speak much. So silence filled the room until their pain actually reacted as he said. Not only did the sharp pain on their back fade, but so did the aches of months past.

“Holy shit. What did you give me?” They felt like a brand new person. It was… terrifying.

“Your new favorite thing,” he said, and they couldn’t exactly deny it. He finished writing and made his way back over. “Alright. Now for the real test.”

They couldn’t help the way their body clenched up when he stood over them. Or the way they trembled when he opened the zipper pocket and pulled out his knife. 

“I thought this was a scientific procedure. Where’s your scalpel?” A risky quip. They didn’t want to see that goddamn scalpel ever again.

“Scientific, not surgical. Calm down or I’ll need to start you on high blood pressure medication too.”

He tapped the arm of the chair and they obediently set their arm there, wary of his every movement as he flipped the underside up.

“If you struggle, I’ll strap you to the table instead.”

That was checkmate and he knew it. A timid nod accepted defeat.

The knife started just below their elbow, pressed in, and pulled ever so slowly down to their wrist. Eyes squeezed shut and teeth grit, preparing for the familiar sting, but…

They looked down. The cut was already bleeding, dripping down their arm, wetting slick leather. But all they’d felt was a mild pressure.

Their captor was looking on just as intensely, studying their reaction.

“Nothing?”

“Nothing,” they breathed. No pain. “Nothing whatsoever.”

He drew another line, parallel, and even as more blood wept, their eyes were strangely dry.

“Good. Let’s kick this up a notch.”

They opened their mouth to protest but a hand already fisted in their collar, pulling them up and pushing them against the wall. Their vision blurred when their head knocked off the wall, but the explosion of hurt didn’t precede it. 

“H-how do you know you didn’t just concuss me?” The longer this went on, the worse it felt. 

“I suppose I don’t. Not until I check you.”

“You can’t do that! You need to know how hurt I am, you need to know when to stop-!” A backhand flew across their face, snapping it to the side, and they whimpered. The hit had hardly felt like a brief touch, but its humiliation stung nonetheless.

“I know your limits. Do you think you’d feel a stab wound?” His question made them freeze, tears preemptively flooding their eyes.

“No- please don’t. Please. I’ll lose too much blood, you could hit something vital, please!” 

"Do you think my anatomical studies were for nothing?"

Pressure. Pressing harder and harder against their shirt, their abdomen, and then a horrific, slick coolness. It fell back and exposed a rushing warmth, blood staining white fabric, broken skin peeking through the new hole. God. They felt faint.

They fell to their knees and heard footsteps, probably wanting to test whether or not they were faking it.

“It doesn’t hurt,” they cried. “I just- the blood- I need to stem the bleeding.” That was true. Their hands clamped over the stab wound, trying to stop it. The shoes paused next to them in thought, then continued back toward the chair. Just moments later they heard his bag rustling and each vial clinking as it was set inside.

At least he was done for the day. Probably sad he didn’t get to make them scream.

He picked up the bag and his steps resumed, kicking something that skittered to a stop at their feet.

“Page me once it starts to wear off.”

Fuck.

[via-the-cryptid]

generally, Ellie’s current mindset as she’s running from the scene of the disaster is ‘oh shit the clown man shot me’. as soon as she drops the hostage somewhere and processes what just happened, however? she’s pissed.

Who does this circus bastard think he is? Ellie may not want to let harm come to innocents, but as a few of you have pointed out, she does not possess the qualms that Danny does regarding murdering her enemies. she was ‘raised’ (in the vaguest sense) by Vlad Masters, and the only reasons she didn’t try to take him out were trauma and concern that his powers and experience outweighed her own. this Freakshow knockoff, however? oh, she can take him, and now, she’s got motivation.

Ace is a bit concerned for her health, but Ellie brushes it off. she’s had plenty of injuries before, and a single bullet isn’t nearly as bad as the portal incident, nor is it as bad as when she was literally falling apart at the seams because her molecular structure was unstable.

she doesn’t mention that last bit to Ace, though. the ghost is already worried enough, so there’s no need to upset her more by mentioning things that are no longer problematic.

regardless, the bullet is still in her side and she would like it to not be, which means it’s unfortunately time for an impromptu surgery. settling down in an abandoned shed near the outskirts of Crime Alley, Ellie steels her nerves and prepares to dig the bullet out of her flesh. she tries intangibility first, tries to see if she can just reach through her body and grab it, but it’s no use. her powers have reset, recalibrated, after the portal mess, and now she’s needed to relearn abilities that were once familiar. back when she was falling apart, it would’ve been easy to turn her body intangible and reach inside, but now? now, she has to do this old-school.

her fingers are just barely into the bloody hole in her side when the Riddler opens the door.

[oopsallwhimsy]

4am drawing hits different I tell ya what. Enjoy 💕✨