#tw chest injury

[dogbound1128]

Yumi Doodles

[tortelorrini]

OH, JUST ANOTHER ONE IN A LONG LINE OF NO ONES

[fox-guardian]

[ID: A digital drawing of Needles from The Magnus Protocol on a gray background. He is a bony, bald white man with pale skin, a gray tongue and gray fingernails. He is wearing dark navy pants, a brown raincoat hanging off his shoulders, a shiny black body harness that crosses his chest and stomach, shiny fingerless opera length gloves, and a face harness connecting to a choker. He also has "door-knocker" nipple piercings with spikes on them. He has countless needles poking out of various points on his body including one side of his head, the space where his eyebrows should be, his ear, shoulder, chest, one side of his stomach, under his fingernails, and his entire tongue is covered in needles as well. Blood pours from every area the needles come out of, and he is posed with his hands splayed out with one arm reaching straight down, and the other arm bent over his head. On both sides of him are extra fully rendered drawings of his hand (left) and his smiling mouth (right) showing the needles in more detail. The hand drawing shows the needles poking out from under his nails, bloody and bleeding down his hand, getting on his glove. The mouth drawing shows needles poking out of his gums and tongue, stretching the flesh as it bleeds over his teeth. They are rendered with cool dull shadows and warmer highlights. end ID]

~~~~

more needles, this time my far too indulgent hood-off design that i had to get out of my system before its canon potentiality is obliterated. he is so Great Value Pinhead. to me. also i just think he should be bloodier.

[aealzx]

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Update Post

Prologue | AO3

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Fighting humans was something Danielle was admittedly not too familiar with until being brought to Gotham. There had been other criminals that she’d had to chase off, police that she’d had to politely incapacitate so she and the others could escape, and even the unfortunate passerby that she usually overshadowed to lead them away from their hideout. But for all of those she’d always pulled her punches, knowing that she could do way too much damage and even kill the humans if she hit them with her full strength. Ghosts just tended to be more resilient than living people. Which meant she also couldn’t use any of her ectoplasm based abilities against them most of the time either. Both because of the damage it would do to the humans, and because she didn’t have a good way to recharge quickly. She didn’t need to end up as another comatose team member for the others to take care of.

Facing off against Deathstroke ended up breaking all of Danielle’s beliefs about fighting humans.

While Danielle still couldn’t use too much ectoplasm, she quickly realized she didn’t have to pull her punches. Jason was the first to technically engage Deathstroke, pulling out both pistols and firing mercilessly at the hulking man as he charged towards them. Yet for some unfathomable reason Deathstroke seemed impervious to the gunfire, the only bullets that might have hit him being slashed away with a blade like some ridiculous samurai cartoon. Jason ended up emptying both clips in his guns before Deathstroke reached them, and by that point Dick ran forward to block him while Jason reloaded. Instead of opening fire on Deathstroke again though, he holstered the pistols for now in exchange for his combat knife, not wanting to risk hitting Dick or Danielle in the crossfire.

Dick was definitely familiar with Deathstroke’s attacks, but that didn’t mean it was easy for him to fight the professional killer. Hits were heavy, and the combination of swordplay and martial arts was deadly to even trained combatants. He found he was glad Jason had insisted on staying, for while Jason had a much smaller blade he and Dick were so familiar with each other’s fighting style that it was easy for Jason to sneak in and target Deathstroke’s weak points, or take the heat away from Dick for a moment. It was something that Danielle found difficult to join in on, and her first attempt to punch Deathstroke proved unexpectedly useless since she held back as much as she usually did against living people. All it served to do was bring her in range for Deathstroke to immediately target her instead, his blade swishing over her head as she ducked with a slight yelp.

“Go join the others,” Jason ordered after watching Danielle make a useless attempt to help and almost get beheaded instead, getting Deathstroke’s attention by slicing at his blind side.

“I can fight!” Danielle protested, giving another test punch with more force behind it, only to have Deathstroke catch her hand. She felt his muscles strain under the impact of her punch this time, his hand pushing her off to the side just in case she broke his resistance. But as he kept ahold of her fist she just phased through his hand to pull back.

“Then stop holding back. He can take all you’ve got,” Dick directed, having been one of the ones who had initially taken Danielle down during the rescue capture mission. He knew she could hit hard. Stephanie and Damian had to help, and they only caught her because of Damian using sedatives.

With the others chatting between themselves, Deathstroke chimed in with a calm comment. “Make this easy on yourselves boys. This time I’m not here for you, so leave the girl and you won’t get hurt.” It should have already been obvious that his target was Danielle and the others of her team, for he all but ignored Dick and Jason when they weren’t in his face.

“Did you honestly think we’d even consider that option?” Jason demanded, quick to snatch his gun out of its holster and start firing again when Deathstroke caught Dick off guard enough to bodily kick him skidding several meters away.

“No,” Deathstroke admitted, leaving back to dodge the bullets for a moment. “But it was worth a shot.” He sounded almost bored, blocking the bullets with his blade once more before getting accustomed enough with Jason’s firing pattern to charge forward again.

As Jason lurched back, half blocking the slash with his knife but still getting cut in the shoulder, Danielle swooped in with a whirling kick to Deathstroke’s chest, phasing through Jason to get the best angle. There was enough force this time that Deathstroke grunted from the impact, getting launched backwards to tumble twice before righting himself and skidding on his feet.

“Nice!” Jason complimented, caught just a little off guard at the more Superman-like display of strength. 

“Your fault if he dies,” Danielle shot back, already very uncomfortable with how different this fight was compared to others. She didn’t want to kill anyone, but if it happened because of self defense she’d have to learn how to come to terms with it. As long as this guy didn’t just turn into another ghost like Skulker. That seemed like a nightmare in the making.

“Great. I’d thank you if you managed that,” Jason returned, readying himself for another round.

“No killing,” Dick countered, reaching them again and taking his position near Jason.

“Kill him. Don’t kill him. You guys should work on your mutual goals,” Danielle scoffed, following as the two of them rushed Deathstroke this time.

It really was unfair that the old man was able to keep up with all three of them. Danielle hadn’t fought Jason before, but Dick had been the main one she’d fought before, so she knew he wasn’t a wimp. Yet it seemed the only real hits they were able to get in were the ones that she snuck in between the others’ moves. Back and forth in a broken dance of ill intent, stealing blood when steps faltered or reactions were just a tad too slow. Deathstroke’s blade sliced Dick’s forehead and bicep, and Jason’s forearm and thigh in addition to the previous gash on his shoulder. But in return Jason had gotten two good cuts on Deathstroke’s ribs and arm. That combined with brutal hits from Dick’s escrima sticks and Danielle’s fists made her feel like they had done a near equal amount of damage to each other. Perhaps it would be a duel of endurance in the end.

As the fight dragged on it started to wear on those involved. Danielle was pretty sure Jason had a broken finger, and the cut on Dick’s forehead was bleeding profusely. Deathstroke had learned soon enough that if he got Danielle quick enough she didn’t have time to become intangible, small cuts drawing green blood to add to the red staining the silver of his sword. And if she bled, that meant she could be killed. Even if the injuries stopped bleeding soon after they were made. He’d just have to hit her with something harder then, and for that he strategically created an opening for himself.

By now they had gotten used to him targeting Danielle when she was close enough. So this time Deathstroke made a feint towards Danielle before switching his attack towards Dick’s neck. Luckily Dick’s reflexes were fast enough that he lurched backwards to avoid it, but it still would have left a large gash across his collarbone and chest if Danielle hadn't caught it. And that was the opening Deathstroke was aiming for, his other hand snatching a small pistol loaded with a shotshell from his armory and firing it into Danielle’s chest. The startled half scream from Danielle was cut off by both the shot shell beads, and Deathstroke’s foot kicking her from the air to tumble meters away.

“DANI!” Dick’s shout was accompanied by Jason’s renewed effort to beat Deathstroke unconscious, wordlessly increasing his offense to allow Dick to break away and skid to his knees near Danielle. As Dick’s mind whirled through all the first aid he knew that might help the girl, his hands resting on her back as she coughed, he was surprised to see her start shoving herself upright after a short groan. At first he thought maybe she hadn’t been hit by the shot shell, or it had been a non lethal capsule. But as Danielle shoved herself to her knees and snapped her head up to glare at Deathstroke with a snarl Dick saw the green blood dripping from multiple wounds on her chest and knew it had been a dead on hit. It left him a little stunned as Danielle pushed herself to her feet, spitting a small amount of green blood that she’d coughed into her mouth.

“THAT HURT, BITCH!” Danielle shouted once she was on her feet again, phasing a hand into her chest to pull out a pellet and hurl it to the ground. The comment was unexpected enough that Jason ended up distracted, both by Danielle still talking and the words she’d used, and got brutally elbowed in the side of the head.  As Jason collapsed to the ground, movements uncoordinated because of the blow to the head making his vision spin, Dick threw one of his escrima sticks at Deathstroke and charged forward to protect his brother.

“So that wasn’t enough either,” Deathstroke mused, knocking the airborne escrima stick aside and intrigued by Danielle’s ability to still be moving despite having taken a full round of shot shell ammo. 

“That’s it,” Danielle spat as Deathstroke blocked Dick’s next attack, kicking off the ground and snapping forward once again. This time instead of pulling her fist back for a punch, or otherwise outwardly attacking Deathstroke, she kept going, phasing through Dick and Deathstroke’s weapon and arm, wisping into his chest. Yet neither Dick or Jason noticed her appear on the other side, and neither had time to fully react before Deathstroke was abruptly dropping to one knee and plunging his sword into the top of his other knee.

“..... What the…?” Jason huffed, the screeching tires of the batmobile drowning out the rest of his words while he staggered to his feet, openly staring at Deathstroke’s display of sudden onset of madness.

“How much damage do I have to do to stop this guy?”

The question came from Deathstroke’s mouth, but sounded odd. Dick and Jason paused in disorientation, glancing around for Danielle before Dick made a connection in his head. Jazz had mentioned something about ‘overshadowing’ to Danielle, and some of the reports from the past two months had records of people behaving oddly, suddenly defending the people they were chasing or fighting their allies, and then having no memory of doing so.

“...Dani?” Dick asked, not completely sure, but confident enough to hold his hand out to stop Damian and Bruce from joining the fight. It looked like Damian had Talia on his phone as well, holding the device facing them.

“No, it’s grandma,” Danielle retorted with Deathstroke’s voice, understandably irritable. “Now answer the question,” she demanded, jerking the blade in Deathstroke’s knee slightly.

—---

The silence provided by the batmobile’s soundproof encasing was broken by Damian’s phone ringing as they hurtled down the streets, destined to meet up with Dick and Jason to provide backup if necessary. They all knew Bruce was the one who could best deal with Deathstroke, but if what they said was true and someone had hired the man without Talia’s knowing then Damian figured he might be able to put a stop to the matter without a prolonged battle. As much as he would love to stab Deathstroke in the other eye, that usually led to injuries to his family that were best avoided. Luckily his call was quick to be answered.

“Damian.”

Talia’s greeting was simple, but his name was spoken with more love than Talia bequeathed to anyone else. Other than, perhaps, Bruce. Usually if Talia deemed someone worthy enough to have her answer their call she only commanded them to speak.

“Mother.”

The returned greeting was just as simple, for Damian had learned the habit from her.

“It is rare for you to call,” Talia responded, and Damian could hear the smile in her voice despite the tense situation. They both knew Damian reaching out to her directly was risky. Other children would have weekly calls with their parents while abroad, if not daily. But their situation was much too different to allow for such a consistent opening. “What concerns you?” she asked, knowing he would only call if there was important, but not critical matters at hand.

“We have discovered the League’s most recent contract with Deathstroke,” Damian informed her easily. No need to question if she was aware or not, her response would tell him. “I must insist the contract be terminated, or we risk damaging connections with important contacts…. I imagine this was not of your doing,” he couldn’t help asking if she was responsible.

“What?” Talia’s answer dispelled the sliver of doubt Damian had. Her anger still ran deep towards Deathstroke; there was no one who remained from Ra’s time as head that would ever be willing to affiliate with Deathstroke again. She was quick to recover though, pausing for only a moment to align the facts in her mind, and research the source of the contract leading them to her people. When she spoke again it was with mild confusion only because it was her son she spoke to. “You are not the target, nor are any of yours. Why are you involved?”

“The targets are my wards,” Damian responded simply.

The words caused Talia to pause again, thoughtful as she browsed through the pertinent information on the computer next to her. She didn’t recognize any of the targets, but seeing their listed crimes made her understand what had happened. A delivery to a research team, tasked with potentially amplifying the Lazarus pit’s attributes, intercepted by an unknown group of teenagers. Someone on the research team had stepped out of line and ordered the hit, somehow getting it past the League’s administration without even requesting her authorization. There were several people now on the list to be severely punished, if not terminated. 

Despite the welcomed revelation, the target location of this Team Phantom made Talia pause, questioning Damian’s words. “...You claim they are your wards, yet you keep them isolated from you. Far from your home,” she pointed out, and Damian clenched his jaw. She wasn’t trying to say he was lying, was she? Or did she think he was being manipulated? He wouldn’t put it past his mother to worry for him needlessly.

A quick glance at Bruce to judge his mood, knowing he was listening, and Damian answered after Bruce nodded with some reluctance. “They are to be relocated, but only once they are without assailants. Damaging the manor would be an unnecessary annoyance.”

Talia hummed, a smile tugging her lips as she was now curious about the ones who had charmed her family. But Bruce wasn’t within the view of the camera, and as he slammed on the brakes and the cover of the batmobile slid back Damian hopped out of the car. He wasn’t sure exactly what was going on, but it looked a lot more promising than he’d initially imagined. Deathstroke was kneeling with a blade in his leg and Jason pointing a gun at his head. So Damian showed his mother the state of the assassin as Deathstroke spoke with a voice that was his own, yet words that were not.

“I have the ability to overshadow others, and make them do or say what I want while they’re completely unaware,” Danielle explained through Deathstroke’s voice. “It’s not the most comfortable state, but I can inflict more damage if I need to.” She was responding to a question from Dick, but as Damian approached with the phone held so Talia could see she was the one that responded.

“Then kill him,” she directed simply. “Many would welcome his demise.”

“That’s not how we work,” Damian spoke before Dick or Jason could respond, gaining a faint smile of his own. “Terminate the contract… Please.”

This time it didn’t take long for Talia to sigh in compliance, a fondness saturating her breath. “Very well,” she accepted, “Release him, and I will speak.”

No one moved for a breath, but after Damian nodded once Danielle’s sigh was half with Deathstroke’s voice before becoming her own as she floated out from his form. She stayed close as he grunted in the sudden realization of pain and what his current situation was, but Talia spoke up quickly.

“Slade. In light of recent information your contract will be annulled. You will be compensated half of your payment for your efforts spent as of now, and if you persist you will be hunted by the League of Assassins. You can take my offer, or be killed now. Which is it?”

Her terms were delivered quickly, and while Dick’s face scrunched in mild confusion as to who among them Talia thought would be willing to kill Deathstroke in her place, Jason shifted the pistol in his hand slightly to remind them it was there. And he deliberately ignored the way Bruce’s eyes narrowed at him. Deathstroke was enough of a pain to all of them that no one would miss him. Yet it turned out to be Danielle who tipped the scale.

“Answer fast or I might start ripping organs out. You’ll be surprised how many aren’t strictly necessary,” Danielle added, phasing her hand into Deathstroke’s chest to prove her point. She was testy, but she felt she had a good reason to be. She still had to dig the rest of those bullet shards out of her chest after all.

Deathstroke paused a moment longer, having not quite been swayed by Talia’s words just on principle. But after taking a testing breath and faintly feeling Danielle’s hand in his chest he realized dealing with the half dead girl might end up costing him more than he was willing to pay. So he answered soon enough. “Done. I expect to see the transfer before they’re out of sight.”

“You’ll get it when I deem it so,” Talia responded curtly.

Deathstroke watched the screen for a beat, gauging if he could barter any further before giving in. “I should have known you hadn’t changed your mind.”

“You should thank Damian instead of wasting your words on me,” Talia retorted with a scoff. “If I had my way, you’d already be dead.”

“Hmph. I won’t waste anymore of your time,” Deathstroke huffed. There was no way he was going to even consider thanking the demon child. He should have trusted his mind and not taken this contract in the first place.

“Consider yourself lucky we’re still paying you,” Damian scoffed in return, nodding his head for the others to start moving to the batmobile. “Show your face again near any of the Phantoms, and I’ll reconsider letting you live.”

There was a hesitant moment of the others not being sure if the conversation was done or not, but as Damian started to walk back towards the batmobile, turning the phone to face himself again, they followed suit. Danielle released her hold only when Jason and Dick were a few steps away, all three of them eyeing the man as they moved. Bruce made sure he was the last to follow, keeping himself between his family and Deathstroke.

“I will provide you with a full report tonight, Mother. If that is acceptable,” Damian spoke quietly to Talia once he was far enough away for Deathstroke to be deaf to his words.

“I look forward to it, my son. Be well,” Talia responded, her voice softening again with her expression moments before ending the call.

Two thirds of the way to the car Danielle felt the adrenaline wearing off quickly, causing her to drop lower until she was sagging to the ground on her knees. Her chest hurt, but at least it wasn’t bleeding that much anymore. It should be fine to take the rest of the shot shell pellets out now, so she took a moment to phase herself intangible without affecting the shards. “Ouuuhh, that was tiring,” she muttered, flexing her fingers as the beads clinked on the asphalt and rolled away. At least she was still stable. Now she just had to get back to the others and think of a way to calm them down when she got there. Something she didn’t have to worry too much about, for Dick had paused next to her and as soon as she returned to a tangible state he leaned over to quickly scoop her up. Without a word he picked up his pace to the batmobile, hopping into the backseat with her after Damian took the front.

Jason was walking backwards towards the vehicle, keeping his pistol trained on Deathstroke as the old man held his hands up in surrender, and staying aware of his family and their guest. He wasn’t planning on lowering the gun anytime soon either, but once he bumped against the batmobile Bruce snatched the gun out of his hand. It caused Jason to snap his gaze over to Bruce with a glare hidden behind his mask, but he knew Bruce was more than familiar with the look. And this time Bruce returned it for a moment before subtly nodding towards the car. They both knew the injury to his head had affected Jason more than he was letting on if Bruce had been able to take the gun so easily.

With a soft huff Jason hopped into the backseat with the others, folding his arms and deliberately not looking at Bruce. Luckily it wasn’t too difficult to do so, for Bruce was quick to climb into the driver’s seat and trigger the cover to close.

“Oracle, send support from the Justice League to make sure Deathstroke is properly detained. I don’t want to hear from him again,” Bruce called through the comms once they were all safely inside the vehicle.

“Copy that. I’ve also rerouted Spoiler to Signal and the others. Orphan will follow up to make sure Deathstroke doesn’t leave before the police get there,” Barbara confirmed, extremely pleased the situation was handled exponentially better than expected. “I’ve also asked her to make sure Hood’s bike gets brought home as well.”

It was appreciated, and Jason gained a small smile before texting her his gratitude.

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HHHHRRGGGH I hope I made it convincing enough for Slade to back off * wheezes * I could not find a good reason in my research, so I just tried something. I kept modifying this part like 4 times. =7=;

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[faeriekit]

Health and Hybrids (XIX)👽👻💚

[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.]

PART ONE is here PART TWO is here PART THREE is here PART FOUR is here and PART FIVE is here PART SIX is here and PART SEVEN is here PART EIGHT is here PART NINE is here PART TEN is here PART ELEVEN is here PART TWELVE is here PART THIRTEEN is here PART FOURTEEN is here PART FIFTEEN is here PART SIXTEEN is here PART SEVENTEEN is here PART EIGHTEEN is here...nineteen...oy vey.

💚 Ao3 Is here for all parts (now featuring mediocre mouseover translations, only available on a computer)

Where we last left off... THE BART RETURNS! The earth rejoices! 🥳🎉 Physical therapy can be fun, even if it usually isn't!

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 learns a few more words with practice.

Foda is simple. If Danny is hungry, he can ask for foda. It sounds exactly like food, and when he asks, they feed him.

…Or they up his IV. Which. Danny’s tongue might still feel sore and nasty, but the doctors and nurses and millions of minders don’t seem that mad when he sticks his tongue out at them. Sometimes they even laugh.

They don’t even sound all that mean.

It takes Danny a good chunk of waking time for him to realize that he…probably is hooked up to something he doesn’t want to think about, since all the efforts of lifting and moving him haven’t resulted in a single bathroom trip since he woke up here.

Firstly: horrible.

Secondly: his legs are super, absolutely, positively immobilized, and if someone doesn’t give him enough medication quickly enough after it wears off, Danny is very aware that something is deeply wrong with them.

So. Uh. That’s…gross.

He learns bealo just as quickly. He isn’t sure what bealo means, per se, but when he says it, they up his medication until Danny can pretend he doesn’t have any legs again.

God niht is goodnight, unless Danny is feeling snippy, and then it’s just niht.

…The one lady who minds him always says the whole thing, though. Even when Danny’s mean. Like the one time he threw his rocket at someone.

Or the time he started ignoring everyone when they tried to touch him.

…Or the one time he tried to freeze his IV bag, and put everyone on alert because if he’d been human, that would have seriously hurt him.

“Sorry,” Danny’d whispered, even if it wouldn’t mean anything to her.

She’d patted his hand and meant it. Danny’d had to dry his eyes with his wrist. “Eall es wel.”

Anyway.

Danny hates being in the freaking bed every hour of every day. So when his “sitting up” exercises turn into “hey, let’s try the wheelchair” practice, Danny gets so excited-slash-nervous that he kind of feels like he’s going to throw up all the liquids he’s been injected with.

None of the regular people try to lift him. Instead the lady does it herself, scooping Danny up in very strong arms, the golden cuffs on her wrists weirdly warm on Danny’s skin. When Danny’s settled, his legs sticking out real weird and his back kind of sore, he’s…out of bed.

He’s. He’s not in bed anymore.

And. Sure. It’s temporary, but it’s not the bed. Danny can wriggle, and he can sort of palm the wheels underneath him with the heels of his shaky hands, and he can see so much more of himself than he has in ages and ages.

For one. Both of his legs are in casts. That’s. Not good. He can’t feel it right now, but the sight of fully encased legs…

Well. If he can transform that won’t be a problem. If. If he has to escape. But it is…it’s super scary. He mostly remembers being captured, but the…the other people had been focusing more on his thoracic cavity and his face and head.

…So why are his legs so bad? Did something else happen?

(It did, didn’t it?)

(…Didn’t it??)

His hands shake, but there’s something to all that grip training, or else Danny wouldn’t be able to paw at his neckline to look down his own shirt. Or, well, his cloth nightie, anyway.

It’s good that he looks, since, well…his chest is glowing a solid green.

Whatever should probably be scar tissue. Uh. It…isn’t. There’re gouges down his chest and a crater where his heart should be that probably should be healing over, considering, you know, he’s not freaking dead at this exact second (mostly??), but. Instead of, like, healed flesh, or, say, his insides, there’s a transparent green…jelly… holding him together.

He can see how the green bounces with his heart beat.

...Danny drops the neckline of his gown. His breath comes in choking bursts, eyes pressed into his eye sockets—he feels sick.

He is sick. He has been sick.

The humans are keeping him here because he’s a freak of nature and he’s broken from head to toe and the Guys in White carved his flesh out of his body and opened him up like a can of cranberry sauce.

He presses his hands to his chest, to his stomach, just trying to breathe for long enough that he doesn’t throw up his oatmeal and occasional juice and IV nutrition onto the pristine floor of his sickroom. The people around him all make sympathetic noises that don’t help because he doesn’t know what they mean.

And then he feels something weird.

Not all the sensation in his fingers are back. It’s easier for him to feel impediments than it is to feel textures—something that blocks him from moving, rather than anything sensory-specific. He can usually tell when he touches fabric, because when he moves too far, it pulls tight around his hand. He can tell when he’s on something solid when his hand fails to go through it.

There is something solid sticking out of him.

Danny’s heartbeat quickens. It’s not. It’s. There’s something in him.

And it’s not—it’s so solid. When Danny brushes his hands against it, he can feel his skin and his flesh move with it, trying not to dislodge the thing embedded in him. It pulls at his skin. He doesn’t know what it is.

His fingers tremble as he tries to brush over the object through his gown, trying to figure out its shape from faulty touch alone. It’s like waking up to find himself jammed with needles all over again.

People are talking around them. Danny doesn’t try to listen in. He’s scared. He’s so scared. Something’s happened to him, and he didn’t even notice.

Some of it is—hard. There’s a crinkling sound when he moves. Danny manages to pull his gown neckline back again to catch something of a glimpse, and all he sees is plastic.

He doesn’t know what it is.

He doesn’t know who to ask. He can’t understand anyone and he doesn’t know if he trusts them.

They put something in him. There’s something embedded in him.

He thinks he’s going to cry.

Something touches his arm—Danny flinches. His core tightens with stress as he puts a metaphorical hand on the button, ready to run and hide at any notice.

It’s the lady. He knows her.

No, he doesn’t. He doesn’t know her at all. He can’t talk to her in any way that matters. She’s not a doctor. He doesn’t know why she’s here, or why she’s keeping him here.

She’s nice. She fed him. But is that all it takes to trick him? To make him compliant? Pliable?

She stops touching him when he gets scared, her eyes worried. She kneels—closer than Danny would like, probably, but she keeps her hands to herself. Danny’s heart races faster, out of order, starting and stopping and starting again like a bad engine.

“Eow eart wel?” she asks from his left arm rest, a common question, so softly. Danny doesn’t know what it means. “Eall es wel. Ænlic eow, ænlic me. Bruce bræð wið me?”

She takes a big, deep, breath. Her hand rises slightly over her chest, following an exaggerated movement. Don’t panic. Breathe. Breathe like me. One, two, three.

Danny’s breaths are more choked. More panicked.

But when she breathes, he breathes with her—even with every stutter in between.

“Hwæt es woh[O3] ?” the lady asks, so gently it’s almost a whisper. Her pointer finger hovers over his body, but doesn’t touch—and eventually, Danny figures out she probably wants to know where he’s hurting.

But he’s not hurting. He’s scared. There’s something inside him, and he isn’t sure what it is. He presses the heel of his hand to the object. He feels something rigid refuse to bend inside his flesh.

There’s something of recognition in the woman’s face. “Inne cwic tima,” she says, more certain of answers outside the room, and darts away,

Danny wants to bounce his bound leg. He feels awful when anyone is in the room with him, considering how little of them he knows, but, somehow, it’s so much worse when he’s actually alone.

When she comes back, there’s a second person who walks through the double doors with her, in blue scrubs with ducks on them. They wave to Danny.

Danny…blinks. He feels numb. It’s kind of a problem.

They take it in stride, though; in their hands is a blank board and a chunky marker. The cap comes off, the new person scribbles for a minute or so, and then turns the board around so that Danny can see.

It’s a…person. A rudimentary outline person, sure, with some visible bones and organs to fill in the person-shaped outline. Danny can recognize most of them from anatomy class, although those memories are more…personal, now. A little more painful.

The person taps on the board. The person points to Danny.

Danny frowns.

The person turns the board back around and makes some Pew, Pew, Pew! sounds with their mouth, occasionally opening and closing their hand over the board to match the noise. There’s some more scribbling. When the board turns back around, there’s a violent smudge of marker on top of the drawn person’s drawn intestines.

The person takes their covered pinky finger and erases a little neat circle of marker in the intestines, mostly favoring one side. They draw a little arrow from the hole to the general outside-of-the-person blank area. Then another circle, with a thicker circle inside.

Danny recognizes the object jutting out of him. Oh. This is how he got it.

The person—probably a doctor, Danny guesses, or the surgeon who did this to him—do these people even need credentials, actually?—hands the board over to the lady. They hold out ten outstretched fingers, marker under their arm, and make a show of counting every one of the outstretched fingers with the opposite hand. Then they take the board back.

And then, when they write on the board, Danny can actually understand what they say.

Or, well, it’s numbers! The numbers are the same as his—the line and a circle is clearly meant to be a ten, and the little x is a multiplication symbol— they draw a 10, as clearly and a brightly as it could be against a stark white board, and add a little x 7, probably to indicate a week; the result is ten suns times seven, or seventy suns.

Danny feels his heart bounce in his chest. Danny would bet a whole lot of money that the number is meant to be seventy days. There is an end point. It’s not that Danny is free to be subjected to random anatomical whims—there’s a goal here. This was purposeful.

The little circle-within a circle gets erased. The hole is scribbled through as if it was never there, and the person makes a weaving gesture with the marker that Danny is certain is meant to be sewing.

Tears prick at his eyes. The lady gets close by him again, but Danny lets her. His hands aren’t good enough for wiping tears the way he wants to, yet. Help and company are good.

She gives him a tissue from Danny's bedside table. He takes it with a whisper of a grip.

“Seventy?” Danny rasps, tearful. Hopeful. Terrified of hope. He practically jams the tissue into his eye sockets.

The lady’s eyes go wide. “Seventy,” she repeats, marveling.

It’s enough. Nothing is perfect, but it’s enough. And if Danny's allowed to spend so long in front of the space window that he falls asleep in his wheelchair, well. It's not like he was in charge of where they went.

[toxickeyboard]

I may have accidentally stayed up all night making stuff for this AU….

Anyway, Here’s my Initiation AU John, yes I know the concept has definitely been done before but I wanted to make my version of it.

This takes place after the Initiation Ending, but some things are different ofc!

Close-up, & Robe Info Under Cut/Read More!!

If anyone wants more info on this AU, feel free to ask! :]

[dragonofthestone]

@lunaferrous asked:

scars, chronic

scars:  how many scars does my muse have? where are they located on my muse’s body? how did they get them? what do they look like? 

Alright so given his unique body and it's heightened ability to heal you might think that would mean a lack of scars. Quite the opposite in fact, as while his body may does heal faster then the average person and given enough time has a better chance of surviving from potentially fateful wounds it still heals in much the same ways any living creature (barring like magic / anything that can go beyond natural limits like the Philosopher's stone or something)

It does take a little more for his body to form a scar- so something that may leave someone with only a small / faint scar would probably heal up fine with no scarring.

He has a lot of scars,

the most prominent of course being the one over his eye- the how is something that tends to vary depending on verse, typically it's one of the many acquired during his time as a lab rat.

Although in time he had no trouble healing from the injury not even his healing was capable of repairing the damage done to his eye.

The nerves around that side of his face are kinda screwy- there's a few small spots where in he actually has no feeling, while others are a bit more sensitive to touch.

It's not a clean scar to say the least, the skin is patchy and scarring actually makes it hard to hold it all the way open so most of the time he keeps it closed- also because the tear ducts / eyes general ability to keep wet is kinda fucked so keeps it protected/avoids drying out.

(Modern verse- it was an injury recieved when he got caught in the blast of an old detonated mine that killed his little bro)

He's got a lot of scars all over his body, many being quite faint / not as noticeable as others, remains of the many different experiments. Some were from genuine accidents, an experiment gone wrong or results no one had expected. Others were more intentional as part of an experiment with wanting to be able to see the extent of not only what he could heal from but how long it would take. Or simply as a result from wanting to see how he'd react to certain stimuli,

and of course more then once pitting him against another Chimera (or worse Alchemist) to see how he could handle in a fight.

He does have one sizable scar on the back of one of his calves from when he fell out of a tree as a kid and got a rather nasty cut from a tree branch

Slightly less obvious are some faint areas of scarring caused by the Alchemical process. For most alchemy when a transmutation is done that changes the form of something it leaves behind a trace, so why wouldn't the same be true for Chimera? Typically they aren't to noticeable often hidden by fur or feathers, hidden among the textures and patterns of their skin or perhaps in a place most wouldn't notice.

For Tim most of those marks are generally hidden by clothes, the largest and likely most noticeable is on his back near the base of his tail. At a glance it really looks just like a slightly discoloured patch of skin that if touch has a slightly different feel then other parts of his body.

(Do Mental/psychological scars count? He's got a bucket load of those too lol)

chronic: does my muse have any chronic health conditions / illnesses? how do these affect them from day-to-day? 

Coming as a surprise to no one who's spent anytime on this blog (or around Tim) He suffers heavily from Chronic pain, his worst/most problematic areas being his hands, one may commonly see him rubbing his hands usually by the wrist, and back- mostly lower back especially the closer you get to where his tail connects- which in combination with general balance problems is why his posture isn't always great.

But those are just the worst sources of pain and frequently deals with joint and/or muscle pains else where. Such as his eye which sometimes he'll just get bad phantom pains from it- due to the rather messed nerve signals around there.

He's not one to complain about his discomforts whether it be from the innate animal instinct to not show weakness / hide the pain or simply not wanting to cause any one unneeded worry and be a bother. Like a lot of medication, pain management treatments tend to be a gamble on whether or not they'll be of any affect to him, he does tend to respond better to more natural remedies, herbal stuff and the like you know. Heat / warmth go along way to help ease the pain, another reason you'll find him seeking out the warmest spots.

Most days it's manageable enough that even if not pleasant it's at a level he's become accustomed too and can deal with.

One can usually judge his pain levels by how active he's being, less active or less willing to be active assuming there's no other potential outside factors, the more pain he's in that day. If it's really bad he may also come across as a bit snippier then normal and just in general has a lower tolerance for certain things

Storms are no fun and tend to make it worse is frequently when the pain to his eye will flare up too- which does often make him a decent predictor on whether bad weather is coming.

headaches/migraines aren't uncommon for him either.

Pain isn't the only issue,

His other main health problem would be his Chronic insomnia -if not having full Chronic Fatigue Syndrome (I'm hesitant to officially drop the label on him but just various symptoms/signs of it a lot of the things very much apply to him at the very least he's borderline)

Some nights he just won't/can't sleep at all, and when he can/does will often frequently wake up.

Now in part it is once again another trouble created from his Chimeric design, with an internal clock that's more suited to Crepuscular bordering Nocturnal in combination with being an attempt at wanting someone/ a creature that could go without sleep for extended periods. Add on chronic pain plus nightmares and you've got a nest recipe for one sleepless guy, and is why you may frequently find him taking short naps through out the day.

Much like with pain the only truly affective remedy tends to be natural ones, such as drinking Valerian tea.

Has some mild lung problems do to scarring- which again can be attributed to alchemy and his creation process, because forcefully changing something into a form it was never meant to be is damaging (imperfect as it is the Pseudo, half-baked attempt at stone in his body is quite honestly probably the only thing that's saving him/his body from just rejecting itself- like a body rejecting an organ after a transplant)

It doesn't cause him too much problems for the most part- both stamina and endurance are in the above average range but it does take him a bit long to catch his breath and can get winded easier then one might expect. The cold, especially cold, dry air plays havoc with it.

Also affecting his breathing is the fact his heart isn't exactly in the right place, it's sort of pushed more to the right, closer to center of his chest kinda, which creates pressure against his lungs/makes everything else all wonky.

Quite honestly Tim's a medical marvel not for being a Chimera but simply for the fact that he's not dead.

You can probably also add his laundry list of Mental Health issues here too if you want.

[erabundus]

i  know  it's  established  ren  has  a  high  pain  tolerance,  but  i  think  the  fact  he's  only  displayed  a real response to  being  hurt  THREE  TIMES  during  the  course  of  this  entire  blog  really  puts  it  into  perspective.

[seldomscilence16]

Whumptober day 17:

"You're the lump in my throat and the knot in my chest."

Collar | touch aversion | "Leave me alone."

Fandom: Steven Universe (UA)

Prompts used: vaguely all

So, yes White Diamond and the others were redeemed and stuff yada yada. She was still terrifying, and white diamond Pearl just makes sense to me. So I tried a new take on my usual headcanons.

The collar in this is based on what they use in Wheel of Time (the show I haven't read it, but know they are slightly different). It's honestly pretty similar to White's powers if you dumb it down to what I did.

So TW for torturous devices/Abuse

Not a lot of detail on this one but be safe.

…

"Whoa, there's a lot of junk in here." Amethyst sidesteps a small avalanche of said junk with a raised brow.

"Don't touch anything, we don't know if any of this stuff is dangerous." Garnet adjusts her visor, eyeing the space with caution.

"What is this place anyway?" Steven examines a pile, careful not to touch but curious nonetheless, it was gem stuff after all.

"The warp malfunctioned, this could be anything from forgotten storage to a waste facility." Pearl does her best not to linger on any one item too long, ignoring the swirling feeling in her gut at the familiar objects.

"Oo! I found some jewelry! Garnet can I keep em??" The three gems turn, Steven always managing to find something fun.

Amethyst joins Steven in marveling at the small pile of shiny things, Garnet feels a niggling in her mind, a small recognition but no memory to go with it yet, she turns to Pearl to ask the once Homeworld Gem only to find her frozen. Her stare has yet to leave the pile, posture stiff and eyes wide. Garnet turns back to the pile, trying to figure out what could garner such a reaction, When Steven reaches out for something near the top, Pearl is across the room before Garnet can say anything, tackling the two smaller members of their party as the object in question rolls off the pile.

A circlet of golden material spins and totters to a stop, and Garnet still doesn't quite get it, not until a cuff bracelet at the bottom of the pile catches her notice. She'd seen that before for sure, on Diamonds and high ranking gems as well, the ones who… owned Pearls….

"Are you both alright?" Pearl examines Steven and Amethyst with frazzled movements, moving their heads this way and that.

"We're fine Pearl, what gives?"

"Are you alright Pearl?"

Garnet reaches for the circlet, wondering what about it spooked Pearl,

"Garnet, don't!" She both hears and feels the plea, a part of her warning her just as Pearl does.

Everyone is frozen for a moment, before Pearl inches closer, she pulls her spear from her gem and pokes the circlet until it's buried beneath the pile. Even with it out of sight though, Pearl remains tense, Garnet moves forward slowly,

"Maybe we should try and head back." She suggests, gesturing towards the warp pad.

Pearl seems to be on autopilot now, as she slips under Garnet's hand and towards their transportation, she's removed from the group, quiet as her eyes speak of troubles beyond their understanding. The ride back is tense.

Garnet and Amethyst find Pearl later that night, after Stevens went out with his dad, and hours after their surprise trip. She's sitting in the middle of one of her water levels, staring blankly ahead, she doesn't react to their arrival as they sit behind her on either side.

"Pearl-"

"It's alright Garnet. I… don't want to keep secrets from you guys… but so many years as a pearl… I yell at myself so often you know, those little voices in my head that make it near impossible to speak sometimes, they're the lump in my throat and the knot in my chest, and they look so familiar it hurts."

She closes her eyes, her gem glowing before a projection begins.

"That was no simple piece of jewelry." The circlet and forearm cuff spin above them, "These were tools used to… keep Pearls in line." The image shifts, a basic shape of a pearl is shown, the circlet- no a collar- wraps around the pearls neck, the figure writhes in agony, cries ringing out in the room, Pearl swallows thickly, the collar becoming a chest piece of sorts- and that's why Garnet couldn't recognize it before, she'd only ever seen the activated version, "The Pearl wears the," she clears her throat, word too hard to force past her lips, "while whoever they belong to wears the cuff."

The image shows a glowing chain of light connecting the two pieces, and how the Pearl is seemingly controlled by it.

"But we've seen what you can do Pearl, why don't pearls just kick gem butt?" Amethyst looks physically ill at the images before her.

"It'll be easier to show you I suppose." Her gem shines again and Garnet and Amethyst brace themselves as they are absorbed into the gem.

A giant holographic oyster floats before a single being. It opens in a burst of light, the pearl within projecting its form in a brilliant light show. As the light fades, the Pearl stands with her head bowed, draped in veils of white, the being she stands before bends, showing the great distance between the two, a hand- larger than pearl- reaches forward,

"Who do you serve?" A voice asks, echoing about the room with a fake sort of pleasantry.

"Do… Do I have to serve?" The small gem holds a look of innocence, freshly made and naive of the world.

The hand glows, a golden circlet appears and before the Pearl can react, it snaps around her throat. Her scream is immediate, body convulsing as waves of pain wrack her frame, it spreads to encompass her torso in ornamental gold, a thread of light reaching out for the cuff on the beings forearm.

"Who do you serve?" It's asked in the same tone.

The Pearl gasps out an answer,

"The one and only, iridescent White Diamond."

"Oh! It's a pearl!"

"You idiot, that's White Diamonds Pearl!"

"So? She's not here right now is she?"

Pearl can't stop them from grabbing the cuff, so long as she wears the collar she's unable to even think of touching it. And as she attempts to fight back, well, just the thought of that has agony ripping through her.

"Starlight. I have something for you."

Pearl walks forward, her head is bowed, arms crossed in the Diamond salute, her eyes are devoid of emotion.

"I… I already have a Pearl."

"An inexperienced one I'm afraid. Defective even. I mean really, its been what? A few hundred years? And it still can't complete its duties to you? I've trained this one personally Pink, it'll be perfect for you."

The cuff is held out for Pink to take, and after a moment, she does. White takes her leave and Pearl remains still as she awaits her first commands.

"Well… I'll have to come up with a nickname, so we don't get confused then." Pink Diamond motions to the pink Pearl who had been hidden behind the wall, her eye has a crack through it.

"Pink enjoys her times in the garden, what do you want to do until she gets back?"

"Leave me alone. You'll get in trouble." Pearl remains where Pink left her, half an eye on where the cuff resides inside her vanity, the rest of her attention on the warp.

"Get in trouble? Why?"

Pearl doesn't answer, and when the younger reaches out, Pearl flinches back, waiting for painpainpain.

"I'm… sorry." Pearl doesn't answer.

They're on the battlefield, one of their first, and Pearl is fighting with everything she has. It's strange, that a simple order from Pink allows her this freedom, but she's tense as she waits for the pain to wrack her form again.

Pearl sees Rae, outnumbers and losing, and rushes to the younger pearls side, the fight, gems poofing left and right, when she sees one coming up behind Rae. She doesn't even think, her body moves on its own- but not against her will, this is not an order or an implied one, but her own thought- the ax slices through her form with ease, and she can only hope Rae will be okay.

The gem floats, glowing light showing a formless body, shifts into a silhouette of the Pearl they remember, a few over so slight changes appear, before Pearl herself reforms. She sways, dizzy in a way she can't explain, and lighter too.

"Pearl! Are you alright?" Rae and Pink- Rose- watch her with worried eyes, and she frowns before nodding. She may not feel 100% but she can't let that affect her.

"Pearl," P- Rose, holds out a mirror, Pearl is cautious to take it, but as she finally looks at herself, she begins to understand.

Her throat is free of the collar. It's such a strange sight, in fact, one she'd never actually seen. And her once white attire has taken on COLOR, she… made her own decision. She… didn't hurt because of it.

"You're free." Rae smiles at her, throat never once adorned in gold, and Pearl couldn't tell you what she felt. She didn't think free was quite right, but she wouldn't correct the young gem either.

She looks directly at the two gems that had watched silently, everything else frozen,

"They were created by white. For wayward Pearls, and their masters. I was an example to keep them in line, I only ever saw a few others forced to bear the burden. And it is not one I wished upon anyone…"

The two gasp as they once again look at their Pearl, she looks exhausted, in a way they can't say they'd seen before. Garnet only knew Rebel Pearl, the one who was put together and fierce and loyal. And Amethyst only knew Earth Pearl.

But now… now they know Homeworld Pearl too. What she'd been through, what she'd lost. They understood her on another level, she trusted them enough to share, and they would not betray that.

[ohanahoku-ao3]

Whumptober Day 17

@whumptober Hope everyone enjoys this continuation from my fic for day 14!

Teen & Up - Gen - Teen Wolf

Holding On, Always Chapter 2

     The pack had found him, and Stiles closed his eyes and listened as they fought his captor and the hunters she employed. The silence that followed was filled with a shout of his name, and Stiles opened his eyes to see his pack coming closer. Lydia reached him first, a key in her hand that she used to uncuff him. She and Scott caught him as he stumbled forward, but Stiles was suddenly too overwhelmed by their touch, and he pulled away with a cry. He tripped and landed on his backside, scrambling backward til he hit a wall, his breath coming hard and fast.

     His body was screaming at him, injuries flaring with pain. The pack was staring at him in shock and worry, and behind them, he could see the female hunter on the floor. He couldn’t tell if she was dead or not, but he didn’t care much either way. He choked on an inhale, flinching away as Scott knelt down and reached for him. “Don’t touch me.” He rasped, voice raw and throat sore from screaming.

     “Stiles, you’re hurt. Let me help.” Scott said softly, holding a hand out but not touching him.

     A lump grew in Stiles’ throat as his pack’s love and worry reached out to him through their bonds, echoes of sympathy as they felt his pain. “I can’t- I-” Stiles sobbed, trembling as he curled in on himself tighter. The sensations grew stronger, the worry and fear that reflected his own tying a knot in his chest. He hated hurting them. He hated it. But he couldn’t handle the touch yet, even when he knew that immediate relief would follow it.

     “Alright. It’s okay, Stiles. We’re right here when you’re ready.” Scott told him, the others murmuring in agreement as they all moved to sit down around him, close but not touching. Slowly, the feelings coming through the bonds gentled, the pack carefully wrapping Stiles in love and affection, helping him to calm down as he closed his eyes and rested his head against his folded arms.

     Time passed, and Stiles shifted, pain flaring brightly and causing spikes of worry to filter back through their bond again. He didn’t lift his head as the exhaustion started to sink in, but eventually, he reached towards Scott, hand shaking as he laid it on the concrete between them.

     A warm hand gripped his own, and Stiles instantly relaxed as the pain started to slip away from him, leaving behind only the love and affection of his pack. That was why he remained so loyal to Scott and brave in the face of torture. It was something the hunter would never understand, but most definitely something worth holding on for.

[ataraxetta]

Can we talk about how very sexy Bruce Wayne is in Gotham Knights? Starting with chest hair and how handsomely he bleeds, and continuing with voice, and then the audio diaries (I’m sorry, audio logs), and then spoilers? Honestly mostly the chest hair. 

[mosspapi]

I can't tell if I'm just having a massive costo flare or if I've actually dislocated and/or cracked my ribs somehow.

I know I need to ask my parents abt it but I had a massive argument with my mother about it earlier today because apparently the reason I have chronic pain is because I don't take Advil (absolute bullshit on many levels and she knows this but she refuses to admit when she doesn't know something), so I don't want to have to deal with her again but also I don't want to leave this if it IS a bigger issue ya feel.

Like it feels like just a really bad flare, but they don't normally last for 3+ days in a row, 24/7, at the "sharp, hard-to-breathe, plus aching, plus reduced mobility" level. That type of flare usually lasts at most a couple of hours. So I'm concerned it's a bigger issue than that, but I'm also paranoid about health things so idk if I'm overreacting ya feel?

[the-great-donatello]

Feeling awful right now.

[spectre-writes]

Why you should read 'The Witch and the Beast' manga by Kousuke Satake

Alrighty folks, time to talk about this manga:

Looking at the covers, you're probably thinking ‘oh, this is some cute paranormal romance kinda thing, right?’ Well, that where you’re wrong… this manga is a hell of a lot more action packed and filled with horror than you’re thinking, and while there’s certainly a degree of… ‘something’ going on, it’s subtle, it’s complicated, and it’s anyone’s guess where it’s going. 

Heads up that there will be a few spoilers in this. I'll start off by dropping some fight scene panels so you know I'm not fibbing about how action packed this manga is:

This is a dark fantasy where the world is one filled with magic, where witches are considered the biggest threat, and have a reputation as being evil (which while not all are, there are some super bad ones out there). Basic plot is about our two main characters taking on witches.

So, who are our main characters? Well, first off we have Ashaf. He’s a mage working for ‘the order of magical resonance’, which specializes in dealing with magical problems/threats. He’s polite, calm and collected, and acts like everything is going to plan (even when it very much isn’t). Carries around a coffin and has crow familiars so a treat for you goths out there. His motives are… ambiguous but we’ll get to that in a bit.

Our second character is Guideau, someone who is violent, fowl mouthed, rash and… pretty much Ashaf’s complete opposite. But she’s agreed to work with him and the order. Why? Well, she’s been cursed by a witch, and needs to find that witch to break the curse… What curse you ask? Well… minor spoilers, but that’s not Guideau’s actual body… Guideau’s actual body is a beast of world destructive power that looks like this:

Yep, that’s right. Massive non-bindary/genderfluid energy there… my personal interpretation is non-binary in a sort of ‘whatever pronouns are most convenient go, but idgaf I just wanna kill that witch’ way, based on the fact Guideau never objects to anyone using female pronouns or male pronouns or states their gender. 

In fact, this whole manga has massive queer vibes… As well as another character later on who plays fast and loose with gender roles, there’s a way to temporarily break a witch’s curse (giving Guideau access to his original body), wanna know what it is? You have to kiss a witch… so yeah, we get scenes like this:

I really wasn’t expecting this and personally this whole aspect of the manga was a treat, though I get that might not be a factor for everyone.

There are some great side characters too, my personally favourite being a necromancer and her servant. She’s very sympathetic/kind to the dead and believes in treating them with respect, which is refreshing to see.

Now, Ashaf and Guideau… it’s complicated. Guideau’s motive is simply to find a way to remove her curse by locating the witch that cursed her, and that’s the only reason she agreed to work with Ashaf. As for Ashaf… well, he says their interests align, and I’d say he definitely has some stake in this, but there’s definitely some stuff he’s keeping quiet about and that’s something we’re going to slowly have to unravel. But I think it’s fair to say they’re growing closer, the question is… where exactly is that leading? I genuinely don’t know and that’s part of what I’m enjoying the most, I pretty much never get invested in stuff like this but I'm hooked. Big spoilers ahead but look at these panels and tell me you’re not intrigued…

Now, as for the world building… I really love how mages write to cast, it’s a nice little detail, and I enjoyed learning about how necromancy functions in this world. The witches also seem to have quite varied powers, which can make their fights seem more unique and means you don’t always know what to expect from them (unless you know their lineage). There’s vampires too if that’s your thing, elementals, and who knows what else going forward. I’m curious to learn more about ‘the order of magical resonance’, there’s definitely some mystery there too… Solid stuff on the whole.

I just… really love this series, and I’d love more people to give it a try too. My only warning is there is some gore, so if that’s an issue for you unfortunately you might have to give this one a pass. Otherwise, please give it a shot! It deserves attention.

[sleepy-angel-artist]

You got the bad ending !

You couldn’t escape the infection inside of you !

> Try again >>> Give up

(Anyone can reblog)

[rhymeswithfart]

Speaking of angels