#seething in rage rn
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layla users 😂😂😂🤣😅🤣😅🤣😅
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Health and Hybrids (XXVIII)👽👻💚
[I can't remember the original prompt posters for the life of me but here's a mashup between a cryptid!Danny, presumed-alien!Danny, dp x dc, and the prompt made the one body horror meat grinder fic.]
🖤Chapter navigation can be found here🖤 Click to browse previous updates.
💚 Ao3 Is here for all parts 💚 (now featuring mediocre mouseover translations, only available on a computer)
Where we last left off... Danny has another hashtag breakdown! Man, we've got a lot of these, huh? It's YJ's fault this time; whoopsie doodles! ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Trigger warnings for this story: body horror | gore | post-dissection fic | dehumanization (probably) | my nonexistent attempts at following DC canon. On with the show.
💚👻👽👻💚
“Danny,” Diana says from the door.
Danny looks up from his place in the book. It’s definitely aimed at younger kids, but it’s a pretty wordy picture book; there are a couple paragraphs he can’t quite parse, but he’s making pretty good progress on the words he can’t recognize.
It’s a story about a cat who misses its mother. Danny tries not to relate to it too much.
“Hm?” he asks, flipping the front flap of the dust cover over his current pages to mark his place. The book goes back onto the nightstand, beside his space shuttle; Danny uses the railing beside his bed to support himself stepping up and out of his wheelchair, leaning on the railing until he can figure out…wait, where’d he leave his old people walker?
“This walk is long. You will want your chair.”
Well, then. Couldn’t she have said that before Danny did all that pulling? Danny falls back into his chair, kinda peeved. “Fine.”
Diana smiles. She doesn’t have to wear the mask around him anymore— Danny’s pretty sure that his injuries have been declared as clotted, or sealed, or whatever at this rate. They for sure swabbed his ectoplasm and came to some kind of conclusion, anyway, which means he only looks gross, but isn’t, like…actively leaking fluids.
On the one hand, gross! But, well, you know. Nothing for it but bandaids and time.
And her face looks nice. Danny hadn’t known what she’d looked like, before. She smiles when she sees him. Her light eyes crinkle, and her lips turn up… She’s nice. Danny’s sure that she’s only there to be in charge of him in case he gets scary, but she’s in charge of him and she’s nice. She doesn’t have to be nice; lots of people have been in charge of him and been mean about it. There was that one guy who kept holding him—with the taser—
(Time slips away from him, a little. When he gets back to the world in front of him, Diana is carefully looking at his face, the back of her hand stroking the back of his.)
Danny’s in his chair. He’s not…there. He’s in his chair, on a big space station (????) with a bunch of really colorful fighters on it, and Diana is touching his hand (that’s so much weaker and slower than it used to be) and he’s not hungry and he’s only scared because of memories. He’s safe. He’s not being pinned down by the neck so that they can strap down his wrists and hips to the table—they’re not shocking him—he can move his fingers, he’s not stuck in his core—
His core throbs. Danny bites into his bisected lip, and tries not to cry.
“Are you alright?” Diana asks, voice gentled. The soft touch of her hand doesn’t stop. “We can wait. There is no—“
Danny shakes his head, and takes his hand away so he could wipe at his eyes. It’s fine. Bad memories are everywhere: in the walls, in the floor, in the ceiling, in the hands of people taking care of him. That’s not… There’s nothing Danny can do about that. That just. Takes time.
…He think he might have that time. Now. He thought he would die for good in that five by five box, waiting for something that would finally end him instead of just keeping him in a cycle of injuries he never fully healed from.
But now he’s not. He’s here.
He wants to keep going.
“Alright,” Diana says, slow and careful. “Hold on.”
Danny doesn’t hold on—or, well, you know, he engages his core muscles and all that, but he doesn’t cling to his arm rests or to the frame of his chair because he knows that Diana is really, really strong, but she also really, really doesn’t want to hurt him.
She rolls him out of the medical wing and into the space station proper. Danny feels like he’s been here before, but he doesn’t remember it super well. Maybe it was when he was sick or something? Either way, a lot of different people wave at him as they go by—or just straight up stare, if they’re rude—and Danny generally just watches people rush by, carrying all kinds of equipment, and a potted plant, and a…starfish in a jar…?
Oh, the starfish waves at him???? Danny waves back because?? What??
Danny rolls to a stop at a smooth, cylindrical elevator. It looks like a giant test tube.
…Oh boy. Danny takes a deep breath, and holds it. Reflexively. Sure, this elevator probably isn’t like being dunked into water to see if his body absorbs ambient oxygen from the atmosphere or if his biology is truly not oxygen-based, but the memory is. Bad.
They go upwards. Nothing happens but Diana’s pushed button.
Danny exhales.
They get off at a section of the base Danny’s never been to, and it's essentially just a long, somewhat narrow hallway. The walls are actually painted a creamy off-white here, and there’s…like…decorative panels towards the base of his wheels trailing down the hallway? An orange ceiling, too?
Huh??
The rooms are numbered, but they’re not plain steel like in other areas downstairs; some of them have stickers, or drawings, or marker written straight onto the door itself. They look...cozy...? Danny thinks so, anyway, compared to the rest of the ultra high tech space base.
They roll to a stop in front of a door. It’s got a number on it, same as all the others, but there’s a box cutout taped to the front of it. The—
—The print is of the same style of space shuttle Danny keeps next to his bed, inked onto glorious cardboard medium.
Danny stares.
“Gegrapa,” Diana urges, so gentle. Too bad that, uh, Danny doesn’t know that one. He looks at her. She mimes touching the door— Oh. Got it.
Danny leans forward just enough to touch the door with his fingertips.
The door says something in a robotic voice, but the synthesizer is too mangled for Danny to make out the words. The door slides open horizontally into the wall, instead of the way the other doors open like portals or from below, and it’s kind of cool?
Inside is a bedroom. Danny stares.
…No, it’s actually a bedroom. Not a medical wing, not a cot, not a repurposed conference room or—it’s actually got a bed in it. Like. A real one. There’s a wooden headboard and it’s got a mattress on it that’s thicker than a VCR.
There’s constellation sheets on a bed big enough to curl up on.
There’s a nightstand, a small desk on the far wall—there’s a little lip where the bedroom dips into a tiny sitting room, a small television on a table and a small table and chair. It’s kind of…it’s kind of like a little hotel suite.
Danny’s mouth goes dry.
He doesn’t move, and Diana doesn’t wheel him in. “It’s okay,” Diana says, and—Danny almost flinches when she touches his hair, but it’s only Diana, who’s never hit him, and they’re fine. He’s…safe. It’s safe. He’s safe here. “Do you want to go in?”
Danny doesn’t move. His hands don’t touch the wheels. They’re shaking; he puts his hands in his lap and he tries to breathe. “…What?” he asks hoarsely.
“A rum for my Danny,” Diana murmurs, quietly. Danny’s heart throbs at the possessive. “You are healthier now. You do not need doctors every hour, but only sum hours. You cuðe spenda more time here, all ana.”
Words go by so fast even at Diana's smooth, unhurried pace— and Danny licks dry, split lips. He looks around the room—and the room is small, sure, but they're in space. Space will always be a premium. Even in this small room, though, the furniture is sparse and placed distant from each other…distant enough that Danny can wheel around freely in his chair.
There’s a Moon clock display hung on the wall over the doorway, and Danny can faintly see the outline of what he assumes is the current lunar phase as seen from Earth.
Having the lamp isn’t exactly the same as glow-in-the-dark-stars, and thank goodness for that. If it had been, Danny might have cried.
(Or, he realizes, something burning in his eyes that isn’t ectoplasm, maybe he is crying.)
“...Me?” Danny asks, terrified to know the answer. Is this room for him?? Is he getting a room here? Is he supposed to stay here? On the moon?! Is he supposed to stay with everyone here, in a tiny room, where there’s nowhere to go and nowhere to escape?
…It’s a bedroom. It’s already so much more than the stupid guys in white ever gave him.
“Yes,” Diana says, and lets go of his hair. “Use it, or do not. Sitta here, or sitta in the medical bay, but now you have two choices.”
Okay. So Danny has choices. He swallows his feelings—they taste a lot like snot—and rolls himself inside to inspect the room.
There’s another little fridge inside the sitting area. It’s not right next to the bed like it is beside Danny’s cot, but it is the same style of fridge. When Danny pops the door open, it has the same styles of snacks. Fig Einsteins. Peanut butter squeezies and applesauce squeezies and yogurt squeezies. Protein shakes in bottles. Pedialight. Hummus packs.
Danny might still need someone to open the snack packs for him. That’s kind of a high dexterity food, if he thinks about it.
“If you wish to sitta here, we will visit you all you like. There is a belle at your bed,” Diana says, and walks in with all her purple scrubs and tied-up hair to point to a little button on his nightstand. It’s red. It’s got a little smiley face sticker next to it, and Danny thinks he recognizes the style from one of his nurse’s bestickered name tags. Belle is probably a direct cognate for bell. He’ll be able to get everyone to come up here if he needs help.
…Okay, that’s kind of nice. To have personal space. He hasn’t had that since… Danny’s eyes squint as he thinks; he rubs an eye. Wait, when had he been squatting under a conference table? Was that a real memory??
Diana is very tall, even in the little space, but when she ducks her head, the gesture makes her a little smaller, a little more manageable for Danny’s lower-than-usual-gaze. Now that he can see her expression, she looks soft, and even uncertain, even though she looks stone and strong on the television when she goes out to fight. “Do you like it?” she asks.
Danny fidgets.
He—does. He likes it a lot. The room doesn’t have any windows, but if Danny moved all his things in here, got used to being able to come and go, and people coming in and out…this space could be just another space. It’s quieter than the medical ward. More peaceful.
…The room is utterly devoid of other people.
(Danny thinks of The Box. Danny thinks of being in The Box.)
(Danny doesn’t like remembering The Box.)
“I am scared,” Danny admits to his twitching thumbs, his fingers itching for a fidget toy or one of his physical therapy tools. Diana’s face immediately drops.
“Why are you scared?”
I’ll be alone Danny wants to say, but he doesn’t know the word for alone and he struggled with phrasing. “No…people here.”
“That is triewe. You would have more dīegolnes here,” Diana agrees, and straightens out of her crouch. “Is that good, or bad?”
It isn’t good and it isn’t bad…? Danny isn’t sure how to phrase it. It’s neither. Being alone is just scary.
“You not hurt me,” Danny tries, knowing he’s missing some connecting word in the middle. He ignores how Diana comes back to kneel beside him, because if he looks at her, he won’t say anything. “Do not.”
“No,” Diana says, from beside and below him, gentle, careful. “We do not.”
No. They don’t. Danny swallows. “Bad…hurt me.” He doesn’t know the word for Earth or planet or even downstairs, so he just meekly points downwards.
Diana stills. It’s like watching Vlad’s Maddie cat spot a bird to hunt down. Danny tries not to feel pinned. “On eorþegearde?” she asks, still light, still gentle. Danny can hear a shadow of steel, though, and he counts himself lucky that she’s never treated him like an enemy. Danny quickly nods. His eyes squeeze shut.
“Who?” Diana asks feather-light.
Danny doesn’t want to tell them what he is. Admitting the name of the agency hunting him itself would be given in.
…But maybe if he doesn’t say the name…and they...and they promised they'd help hide him...
He wants to be right. Danny wants to be right that they're nice, and that they want to help him. Danny wants to be right that they want to protect him. As long as he never, nevernotevernever tells them he's a ghost...
Maybe someone will help him. This time.
“Bad,” Danny repeats, because he genuinely has no idea how to translate?? “Wants…hurts me? For…” WHAT WORDS DOES HE KNOW? Danny gives up and just draws a y-shaped autopsy incision on his chest. It goes down from his collarbones to his belly button.
Diana watches. Her eyes are sharp.
“Do you feel safe with the staff dunstæger in medical?” Diana is quick on the ball with the question and Danny nods quickly—he’s never alone there, and no one’s ever hurt him, and people whose job it is to help people are always coming in and out, and Medical helps them too.
“Good,” Danny whispers. “Talk…talks to me.”
“Ealne weg,” Diana affirms firmly. Whatever that means. “We will cepa you safe.”
You safe and we is all Danny needs to hear. He could probably cry by himself, but Danny wants the comfort anyway; Diana lets Danny take her hands into his, and he lets tears fall into someone else’s grip instead of his own.
*
Bruce is halfway to the monitor room before he feels himself be picked up from underneath the armpits.
Usually finding himself at inappropriate heights involves horseplay from Clark. No one else would be so bold as to actually put their hands on him within the professional setting of the Watchtower—and Bruce has worked very, very hard on maintaining a reputation that keeps the handsier of his fellows at bay.
The culprit is not Clark this time. Bruce finds himself looking downward at Diana’s tearstained face, fury and resignation warring in her expression.
Bruce is careful not to sigh. “Wonder Woman. What is the matter?”
“Someone,” Diana grits out, voice carefully modulated to cut out her own pain, “Hurt my charge.”
On the one hand, the situation with their patient is exactly as Bruce had expected. The circumstance is tragic. The circumstance was predictable.
On the other, Diana's new upset means that Bruce now has more information to work with than ever before.
Bruce can work with this.
“Tell me everything.” Bruce’s voice is just as firm—even held midair like a cat. “I will help you in every way I can.”
#HEy guess who got a covid booster took a nap so fat that SOMEONE almost suffocated and then woke up at 6am to write 1800 words of Hybrids??#Danny: so like. They don't TREAT me like a ghost. so if I just say I'm NOT a ghost..it's good right?? They won't do what mom n dad did??#Wonder Woman (seething with rage): You are NOT going to be able to stop me from killing people#Bruce very quietly: (noted)#health and hybrids#dp x dc#danny phantom#dcu crossover#dpxdc#dcxdp#tw medical#tw body horror#tw gore#although at this point we're mostly a recovery fic#this whole thing has been a recovery fic huh#the healing power of watching someone else get picked up after being punted around like a football#I think we're also a mystery fic but I'm really drawing out the details here ngl#clark is eating chips w nightwing rn they're both missing out on the action
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i was having such a good time talking about stormlight stuff that wasn’t moash, i almost forgot how absolutely dogshit stupid so many moash takes are.
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very problematic to ship vash and wolfwood. wolfwood is like 12 and vash is 150+ years old. gross. its giving pedo fantasy!
congrats anon on being the first one to send me hate! i hope it makes you feel as warm and fuzzy inside as it does for me 🥺👉👈❤️🔥
to celebrate this very important milestone i have drawn vashwood making out sloppy style just for u
#ask#weirdo ask#are you mad anon? 😳#are you seething rn? 😳😳#does it make your heart burn with rage? 😳😳😳#i hope it does 😳😳😳😳#i hope im on your mind for a long time 😳😳😳😳😳#fr tho what are you on bestie#those are two grown ass adults#dont blame me on your lack of reading comprehension#you absolute fucking clown#if you got so much spare time do something productive and explain to me how math works
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#guess who's oversharing on tumblr again!!!!!!!!!!! its meeeeeee!!!!!!!!!!!!! :D :D :D#no but like not my aunt drunkenly rioting and raging around the house rn calling my mom and i freeloaders bc my mom doesnt wanna pay#for my aunt to do insanely expensive fuck all ugly renovations that only she wants#shes over here fuckin foaming at the mouth with anger about how my mom should pay more money with splitting bills bc my aunt wants to like#redo the fireplace inside and put in some weird ugly zen garden in the back and install a full brick fireplace outside (we live in florida)#(this needs to be noted we live in FLORIDA)#and now shes seething and drinking even more bc thats the logical thing to do mhm yup#and my mom (who makes way less than my aunt btw. she doesnt exactly have $1000s dropping from her ass) very reasonably says. no?????#i shouldnt be expected to make up the difference when i wasnt even consulted about these renovations???? and dont???? even want them???????#anyways. now everyone is mad. and drunk. and drunkenly mad. and im :)) counting down the days :))) until i can get the fuck outta here :)))#and never :))))))))) speak to my aunt again bc she fucking suuuuuucks :DDDDDDDD#personal
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IJUST WANTED TO DRAW FINN AND K.3.L.L.Y
I HATE ART (I would die without it)
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If all the mothers and sisters and grandmothers and aunts and neices and daughters, let out the rage that we're all holding inside? The rage that is age old, the rage that is wild, the rage that's just seething and roiling and thundering inside of each woman? Against the world, and all of its horrors, against all the men who have wronged us, in big and small ways, against every derision, every sarcastic laughter, every humiliating word directed at us by the society at large? every "no" that we've had to fight against? every "you're not good enough", "you're weak", "you're a woman, know your place" that's been implied, both implicitly and explicitly, over and over in our lifetimes?
What happens, if we just let go of even a fraction of that justified rage, accumulated over millenia?
I fear that the world, will simply be burnt down. Razed to the ground, until there's just ashes and lava and the white hot lightning of pure, unadulterated fury, that each of us are made to contain, oh so carefully, inside the mighty fortresses, that are the hearts of every single girl.
#Personal#Something triggered my anger just now and I'm seething#As usual I've had to bottle up my rage like the good law abiding girl that I am#Feel like if I have a weapon rn. There will probably be casualties 🙃#Anyway.#That's why I'm ranting here#Feminism#Feminist#gender equality#spilled words#spilled ideas#lgbt#lgbtqia#human rights
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DUDE PLAYING RANKED IS ACTUALLY SO STUPID, I DO FINE MOST OF THE TIME (At least fine right now), BUT I'M GETTING PAIRED WITH TEAMMATES THAT ARE DOING THE DUMBEST CRAP.
Okay, our carrier is in our base, I just returned our flag to our base while this guy happens to still be in it, carrying the enemy flag, and INSTEAD OF MAKING THE GOAL, HE RUNS OUTSIDE THE BASE WITH THE FLAG FOR NO REASON. I WAS THERE WATCHING THIS GUY AND THERE WAS ABSOLUTELY NOTHING I COULD DO TO MAKE HIM NOT DO THAT AND DIE.
#halo infinite#I'M RAGING RN#SEETHING EVEN#I'M JUST TRYING TO GO UP IN THE RANKS BRO#WE WERE AHEAD!!
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why is it so fucking hard to fins brown leather boots that dont have a huge heel and which dont have a zip on the inside. go on to a men's site or the men's section of a shoe retailer and i can find 15 pairs of boots matching that criteria. i am yet to find a nice pair or women's boots that fit the criteria. and unfortunately the men's sizes dont go small enough.
#there are few things that make me feel more rage than the disparity between men and womens fashion#im literally seething rn
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my therapist forgot to reschedule my latest appointment meaning I wasted my entire day doing nothing so I could drive across town and be here at the office just to Not actually have a session. cool👍
#j.txt#normally id be whatever about this but this is literally the third time this has happened. and my normal sessions keep getting-#canceled bc she attends meetings and the like on fridays which are my typical session days. so I havent had an actual appt#in more than a month now lmao. Which also means I have Not been making any progress on processing things or working out my feelings#bc on my own I just repress that shit to hell and back even if I dont intend to. Anyways so basically Im kind of seething at the moment,#like I know its just a mistake and i'll get over it eventually but rn Im having my autism rage abt it bc why even bother to tell me-#to be someplace for a thing I Pay For and get anxious about in general and then Not actually have it happen. lmao♡#AUUUHHG sorry. putting my head in a wall I know I'm being unreasonable and yet
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im going to rip my fucking teeth out why do people who were fucking horrible to me in high school and middle school and who traumatized me for life get to be happy and successful while im just fucking stuck in life with all of the shit they left me with this is not fucking fair
#like GOD i hope they know how much i fucking despise rhem#i am seething rn 🤤🤤🤤#full of rage#also WHY are so many of them going to med school#YOU BULLIED ME FOR BEING FUCKING FAY#FAT*#YOU SHOULD BE NOWHERE NEAR ANY PATIENT EVERRRR
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migraine struggles
#if i weren't so weak i would be so powerful (factual fact that is true)#grug get the drill#my migraines and me <3 (im seething and shaking with rage)#WORST PART IS THAT IM SO UNRICHED RN ALL MY HOBBIES ARE VISUAL AND AUDITORY#somebody come read me a bedtime story from a different room with the door open but no lights on!!!!#actually no that sounds awful#bitching and moaning but ill be fine#bye have a nice day or night or whatever your hair looks amazing ok ciao#shut up maiora
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me when
#n what if i cried#i feel so uncomfortable rn i somehow contracted a fucking. UTI#i drank this disgusting shit for it#i have to wake up in 6 hours#a drop of my friend's T gel landed on my finger and i may just sob. so close yet so far#[seething‚ clenching fist‚ on the verge of tears] but i must remember the future... five years from now i will be Okay#i've waited some years. what are some more?#i just need to weather it all. just hang on. try not to combust from rage into a ball of flames#it will get better. it will get better. i just need to hang on D':
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i want to commit first degree murder on that fictional asshole
#➳ the fool speaks#holy shit he should kill himself holy fuck#im. restraining myself sm rn to not write a 10 page ''you should [violence violence violence]'' yourself#thing directed to this stupid fucking bundle of pixels rn#i NEED to kill him with a rock NONE of you understand i have to choke him and stab him and shoot him i hope he dies#in source i hope he dies horrendously im genuinely so fucking mad rn#i am seething with rage i need to beat his ass rn#i need to teleport into his source w creative mode on and smite him#i want to gouge his guts i want to#no no no nevermind not even ''want'' i NEED to at this point that would fix me#uhhhhhhhhh#man what do i even tag this#violence mention tw#violence mention cw#mentions of violence#violence tw#???????????????????????????#sorry im. im so mad. im so mad. i need to blow this guy's brains out SORRY
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I'm so done with AT/RBR. Perhaps they should look at improving the car first before firing yet another driver mid-season. It's not like Yuki is faring that much better. And sure, great Dan gets another chance, but let's not be surprised when he's battling to enter Q2 every quali session
#Nyck my man I'm so sorry#you deserve better than this shit team#anti rbr#anti red bull#I really fucking hate them#nyck de vries#f1#opinions no one wanted but I'm seething with rage rn
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It's a dystopian shitscape here
#I'm so so sorry albertan trans kids my heart is breaking for you tonight#i hate this fascist bitch who makes all these laws on a whim that hurt and endanger people here#seething rage rn i don't want to say 'i can't believe it's happening here' but feels like it happened here so fast out of nowhere#who just revokes human rights over a social media post?
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