#past violence

[spinchip]

He turns the clippers off and sets them on the counter.

Maybe in a few weeks, he’d want it all back. He’d go to Jay- no, Pixal, because Jay got bored with the tedium of rerooting his hair and Pixal liked that sort of thing- and restore himself back to the before. In only the physical sense, of course. As it stands now, he’d cut his hair off at the base and all that's left is a buzz cut still fuzzy because of how his hair curls. He’d shaved off all the bleached white-blonde so his hair was all black roots now, too.

He runs the soft sensor pads on his fingers over his scalp and resists the urge to run the electric razor over his head until he's shaving off titanium and copper wires. This was necessary. The hair cut. His hair was natural fibers, it behaved like human hair. Sixty years with that helmet strapped under his jaw left his hair brittle and horrifically matted and stiff with grime. He’d tried to wash it and couldn't stomach it, wrapping it up in a towel once the water ran red with the blood of a warrior who’d died in a particularly explosive fashion. Fun little surprises.

It had been cut previously, too- another reason for the shave. Vex cared for Zane's image only when it might affect his authority, and the people of the Never Realm weren’t so intimidated by a man dressed in pajamas with his hair a tangled bird's nest. He’d tried to comb it first. The memory triggers the feeling of phantom fingers prying apart curl clumps and Zane shivers, fingers twitching to take the razor in his hands again. Once it was apparent that Vex was hopelessly clueless about his hair, he’d take a knife and cut it choppy and messy before giving that up to and slapping a samurai helmet over his head and calling it a day. That was the extent of  his hygiene.

He looks in the mirror. There’s something about this too, that calms a howling and brutalized piece of himself. Zane from before had hair that grew up into a flat top. The ice Emperor did too, at first. The man in the mirror isn’t either of those people. He isn’t. The distinction is important to him right now. It’s the most important thing in the world. He clings to it- that he is the after. That the before has passed and will stay past.

He has changed fundamentally. He will never be the same. The idea of looking in the mirror and seeing what he's always seen- of the experience stripped from him as if it never happened, as if to encourage him to pretend to be fine, to be pushed back into the before with the horrors of the future waiting for him- the idea sickens him. The idea thrills him. He could make it all go away, really. Go back to being the before. Lock it up nice and tight in a puzzle box in his mind, sealed tight that only trickles of trauma ever reach him- what ignorance, what bliss.

The box will go unmade, and the agony will replay itself over and over until it is integrated into his coding in a way that can never be blocked out again. He cannot forget the blood. He isn’t allowed to close his mind to the screams in his memories- echoing and compounding into a shrill screech that keeps him up at night and falters his ice when he dares to use it. He knows their names. It is his punishment to know them all. It is his responsibility to remember them. Before, the names were meaningless. After, it is his burden to keep their names alive.

His head is shaved. Maybe someday it won't be.

[bloomingalyssum]

Whumptober Day 25: Being Observed

Uryu tries to remain calm while in the Soul Society after rescuing Rukia.

Once again dedicated to @nebulize-my-mind

[whumpacabra]

Cold

Or AI-less Whumptober 9: Hypothermia

Hypothermia, environmental exposure, gunshot wound, injury to a minor [around age 14], stitches, fictional politics, referenced past field medicine, referenced past character deaths, dog mention

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Áigin was scared. He didn’t want to be - he wanted to be brave. To march to the next village with a face set like flint, unflinching as he described what the invading strangers did to his home, his family, his friends.

But he was just one boy.

And he was cold.

He knew the weather and himself well enough to know he was getting too cold too fast. Áigin’s shivers were intermittent, feet numb in his boot and hands clumsy in their mittens. The small fire he managed to stoke the previous night had died before he even fell asleep, and by then it was too dark to gather more kindling.

But he survived another night, and that was enough, so he trudged on, shivering and clumsy and scared.

Tears beaded in his eyes when he finally crested a ridge and saw the distant tents and deer herds of the next village. The invaders hadn’t reached them yet. He could still warn them.

Áigin stumbled down the slope, hot tears freezing on his waxy face as his breathing grew unsteady. He was so close, but still so far from the people in the village. His legs were like lead, steps shaky before his knees gave out.

He cried out, voice weak as he laid in the snow. Able to see help, unable to know if they saw him. He was too cold to think, attempts to drag himself out of the snow frozen in motion.

(Would he die here? So close to rescue, to safety?)

Something warm brushed his face, and he heard a voice calling out.

“What’d you find there boy?” It was his language - not the strangers.

Áigin weakly raised his head, snow stuck to his cheek and eyelashes as he glimpsed the dark nose of a dog, its owner’s silhouette blurry behind it. Curses sprang up, arms dragging him up out of the snow.

“Hey, hey - you’re going to be alright.” The woman smiled at him, brow tight and eyes worried. Áigin could only blink at her helplessly as she bundled him to her chest, wrapping her cloak around the both of them. The warm hurt, but he knew it was better than dying. She called for a sled, shouting for the village doctor to prepare his tent for a guest.

He needed to tell them. Warn them. But not now - they were too loud to hear his wheezing words, too worried with getting him somewhere warm.

(And he wanted warmth more than he wanted to warn them. Selfish, but true.)

The tent they hurried him into was cozy. Too warm. Áigin felt a sweat break across his forehead as soon as they dragged him past the tent flaps. He was still shivering, body confused by the icy blood in its veins and the warm air in its lungs.

Áigin managed a pained whimper as the man he presumed to be the doctor stripped away his snow covered coat and sweat soaked undershirt, quickly replaced with warm and dry garments.

“I know it hurts, boy, I know. But we gotta warm you up carefully.” The man’s voice was soft, soothing to listen to as he carefully peeled away Áigin’s hastily applied field bandage. “…did you stitch this yourself?”

“Mhm.” Áigin managed, teeth chattering. He needed to tell them -

“You did a good job, kid. I’ll need to clean and restitch it to make sure it doesn’t get infected, but you did good with what you had.” The doctor’s eyes shifted to Áigin’s own. “What happened?”

“Sh - shot…” Áigin whimpered, his feet feeling as though he were standing on knives. “Strangers - my village, in - in the - the east - they killed them. They - they burned and, and shot - the deer - all of the deer and then - then us…“

“Oh, kid…” The doctor’s eyes were so soft, smothering fear with piteous sympathy. Áigin was scared, and every heartbeat hurt. But he was finally safe enough to cry, wailing sobs ripping from his chest as he let this stranger hold him.

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(Part of my Freelancers series)

Taglist: @stargeode @sacredwrath @genuineformality

[peterpcrker]

X-MEN: DAYS OF FUTURE PAST 2014 | dir. Bryan Singer

[bixels]

Scary Sunset.

I'm concepting things way outta order in this story, but I'm sure you can piece things together. Context is for a storybeat where, after defeating and capturing Adagio (thus having all three sirens in her possession), Sunset enacts her revenge plot to release the sirens on Canterlot as Thea discovers she's been manipulated. In a confrontation, the two scuffle and fight over the siren orbs while Sunset struggles with her conflicting wants and emotions.

[shepscapades]

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [PART 6] [Part 7] [Don’t Let it Reach the Heart]

[This comic is part of my dbhc au, following the chaos and panic that ensues after Doc and Xisuma try to get Etho back online at the start of s9 after a very rough s8 finale that leaves him a little. broken. It's set to the vibes of Joywave's Destruction!]

[spirk-trek]

really love that for the metron design they went with "androgynous angel dressed head to toe in glitter"

[benevolenterrancy]

("Always. Continuously. With increasing apprehension, and decreasing hope. I will love you if I never see you again, and I will love you if I see you every Tuesday. I will love you as a corpse loves the beak of the vulture. I will love you no matter what happens to you, and no matter how I discover what happens to you, and no matter what happens to me as I discover this." -- paraphrased from The Beatrice Letters, Lemony Snicket)

[fisheito]

He's a magician

[welcometogrouchland]

[ID in ALT] Steph and Damian doodle! This taps a bit into their pre-52 dynamic so that's what I was thinking design wise at first but I wanted to draw it w their more recent designs as well to stay hashtag current and topical, so you get both/a fusion, lol

[surelysilly]

oct 18th: mirror image

Danny walks into the portal. He walks out. There is nothing wrong with this picture.

Chapters: 1/5

Fandom: Danny Phantom

Category: Gen

Rating: M

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply  

Characters: Danny Fenton, Tucker Foley, Valerie Gray, Mr. Lancer (Danny Phantom), Jazz Fenton

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Supernatural Elements, Violence, Horror, Implied/Referenced Character Death

[bloomingalyssum]

Whumptober Day 22: Bleeding Through Bandages

Rukia helps Uryu tend to his wounds from the day prior and they learn more about each other.

Dedicated to @nebulize-my-mind

[whumpacabra]

I am thinking about a character coming home late. I am thinking about their friends being worried, relieved beyond belief to see them again (because the last time they disappeared…it was bad). The character doesn’t want to talk about where they’ve been, and that’s fine, but their friends just want to know they’re not hurt -

And at that the character snaps at them, violently pushing them away and running to hide in the nearest room with locking door. They’re fine, they just need space - because they are hurt (it’s bad) but they don’t want to worry their friends, they want to be able to take care of themself.

(It wasn’t supposed to happen again.)

[happyk44]

percy repeating that he can be good over and over again to himself while covered in the blood after an overwhelming unleash of volatile rage that destroyed all that threatened his loved ones while grover holds his face and steadily grounds him back to reality

("i'm safe, we're safe, it's safe, just breathe")

[gabelew]

some recent bazzes from twitter

i like to think that Bazz is, rather uncharacteristically for a Zora, very competent with a sword

[bixels]

The idea that uni protesters are "elitist ivy-league rich kids larping as revolutionaries" on Twitter and Reddit and even here is so fucking funny to me if you actually know anything about the student bodies at these unis. Take it from someone who's going to one of the biggest private unis in the US, 80% of the peers I know are either from the suburbs or an apartment somewhere in America, children of immigrants, or here on a student visa. I've heard about one-percenter students, but I've never met one in person. Like, don't get me wrong, the institution as a whole is still very privileged and white. I've talked with friends and classmates about feeling weird or dissonant being here and coming from such a different background. But in my art program, I see BIPOC, disabled, queer, lower-income students and faculty trying to deconstruct and tear that down and make space every day. So to take a cursory glance at a crowd of student protesters in coalitions that are led by BIPOC & 1st/2nd-gen immigrant students and HQ'd in ethnic housings and student organizations and say, "ah. children of the elite." Get real.