#afraid to breathe

[flawlessflesh]

cold comfort

[radiance1]

Alfred Pennyworth has in fact, perhaps, in the slightest of chances.

Picked up his Master's habit of collecting children as if they were on sale.

He was spending his time on one of those rare vacations he decided to take, it was nice, to relax with only the vague overhanging worry of something going wrong back at the manor that he's gotten very good at ignoring.

Only to come across a child bleeding out in an alley, heavily injured.

He would not be able to live with himself if he didn't at least try to help them however he could.

Such is how he acquired a child he later found to be a meta who whished to learn the ways of a butler.

---

Danny had escaped from a GIW compound, after having been handed over by his family a while after his reveal. He felt, completely and utterly betrayed, when it happened. His parents, while hurt, he was at least capable of actually seeing them do it, but never would he have thought Jazz would do so as well.

They did it so happily, that he wondered if letting him go really was the greatest thing to happen to this family.

He chained, muzzled, all the ways to bind him they pulled all the stops too, knowing how dangerous he was. He wouldn't have even done anything then, too stunned by his families apart willingness at handing him over to the government.

He hated them.

He hated them so much.

The GIW facility was a terrible, cold, unfeeling place. One where they drilled thoughts into his head again and again until he found himself unconsciously repeating them when his head felt empty, one where his body gained a new mark day by day and pushed through tests, he had no clue of even hoping to comprehend what they would gain out of it.

It was a cold, unfeeling place. Placed in a cell of white and nothing else, with low walls and chains binding his body in place until the time came for another experiment.

It was a room he grew used to. One he even held some kind of strange, twisted affection for.

It was a room that held a tiny piece of safety, of rest. It was a room that taught him to hate.

A deep, powerful, disgusting, twisting hatred that crawled from the depths of his cells, corrupting his blood and carving itself deep into his bones. Forcing it's out of his pores until it practically oozed from his flesh.

It drowned his mind, tainting each and every thought, every memory, every dream, every waking moment until he could feel nothing but hatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehate.

When he was taken out of that he could feel nothing, with the drugs swimming their way through his blood that snapped the thin string keeping him between a person and an emotionless puppet.

He thinks that's what the GIW thinks he is.

And when he was placed back in that room, he could only hate.

It was a cycle. Stuck between feeling either nothing or hatred.

He hated feeling nothing, it made him feel like he wasn't real. Like it snapped the thread that held him between what a real person was and a dream.

So, he allowed himself to drown deep into his hatred. Until the white walls of his far to small room seemed to fade, until whatever sound he could have heard became nothing but dull noise.

Until the passage of time seemed to become just a blink.

He didn't know what day it was, when he saw it. Saw them. He didn't know the time, the date, the day, the hours. He knew nothing.

But he could recognize his family. Recognize one of the objects of his intense hatred that he forced his thoughts too. The people who willingly gave him up just like that and one of the causes for his current life.

He didn't know why they showed him them, he felt it some sick, utterly cruel joke. A joke he didn't know the punchline for, a joke the universe sent his way to make his life all the more miserable.

There were multiple of them. Multiple clones of his family. Som within test tubes, some being pulled out from the tubes, some walking around in lab coats. A waste of talent, they called it in his dad's case, a waste of intelligence in his mother's, and a waste of intellect in his sister's case.

His original family was already dead, he was told. Replaced by clones, clones that took over the legal decision to change his guardianship. Clones walking around twisting and desecrating his family.

'At least it was painless.' One of the clones said, talking with his mother's face. 'Far more than they deserved for having keeping a thing like him' spoken by his father's imposter.

The drugs pumping through his system to keep him calm, to keep him feeling nothing was suddenly pierced through by an intense feeling of horror, hate and self-loathing.

He should've known it wasn't his family. He should've done more! More to protect them! To keep them safe! The could've still been alive if he just knew.

In that moment, watching imposters speaking, walking, talking, breathing, with his families faces. He exploded. Exploded with a power fueled by nothing but his intense hatred for every. Single. Living being in this goddamn facility.

He killed whoever stood in his way. Managing to get his hands on relatively newly designed weapon, an ectoplasmic scythe (that also apparently could revert into an everyday item). Which he used to rip and tear throughout the entirety of the facility. He got injured, of course, he couldn't dodge everything, but he didn't care.

A body stuck between life and death, incapable of fully going one way or the other no matter what happened. Gifted supernatural powers fueled by wrath and twisting hatred and a weapon made by man yet in the range of the supernatural.

They didn't stand a change. He killed them all. No matter who it was, man, woman, clone. He didn't, couldn't care. He could only kill, only maim, only hurt.

And that's what he did.

It was then, when the facility was blanketed with silence tainted by despair, death and hysteria. When previously white walls were covered by blood, and the halls turned into rivers of blood and corpses. That he broke down, the overwhelming hatred he felt replaced by relief then sadness then self-loathing.

His family didn't give him up! But they were killed. Kill because of him. He couldn't stand being in this place, anymore. His body felt as if it were moving on unseen strings as it walked through the halls, the scythe shrinking back what it was when out of combat, his mind too occupied by thoughts and feelings.

It walked through a portal, one to the ghost zone, and then promptly into another portal and spat him out into an alleyway. Which he then promptly collapsed and curled into a ball, curing the shrunken scythe in his palm and he was out like a light.

A few days after he woke up, he found himself growing attached to the human that found him in that alleyway. An old man, maybe, but a nice one. He didn't want to meet anyone, besides that man, so he turned invisible when anyone else come into contact with him.

Alfred Pennyworth.

It was a name he clung onto mentally and a man he clung onto physically as well. He wanted to be like that man, someone so nice and caring, someone who didn't mind that he turned invisible at the sing of another person, who let him cling onto him both invisible and not whenever he wanted to.

He did panic when he heard Alred saying his vacation was over, and such that he had to leave. He didn't want to be left alone again, he didn't know what he would do if he was left alone again.

Until Afred said we were going home.

We. As in, him plus another. Alfred plus Danny.

Home.

Heat blossomed in his chest, seeming to replace the constant, low hum of hate sitting beneath him skin.

Home.

[martianbugsbunny]

We're not feral enough about the fact that Bucky's last word when the Snap happened was literally just Steve's name

[s0fter-sin]

ghost stares at the ceiling, chest heaving in a harsh pant; sweat ice on his clammy flesh and soaked into the sheet he restlessly kicks away.

ears still ringing, his fingertips blindly drift down to trail along his vivisection scar. he half-expects blood to smear in their wake. his own line of solomon, who ordered him split in twain; half of him given to a grieving mother and half left with the grieving to be.

just for both his broken halves to be rejected.

what did it make him that his mother grieved him more than she loved him? that she begged to be relieved of him more adamantly than she begged to receive him? why did his worth spill out with his drawn blood? why was his pain lesser than hers?

his hand flexes, digging into the raised scar like it’ll part beneath his fingertips to plunge into his mangled insides. no one knows the cruelty of reforming the halved; his name, his being, not nearly as important as his body when he was stripped from himself. no one knows the pain of healing and understanding losing pieces of yourself means losing your value along with them.

how many more pieces did he have to lose before he was halved once more? before his very presence incurred grief so strong it was better to be rid of him than cradle his bloodied remains?

did the infant fight himself? did he age always at odds with himself; his halves never truly whole? he hopes he wasn’t, that he was spared the loss of self; the fear that one may be welcomed over the other.

who will he lose when the inevitable comes? when he’s ripped apart again? simon? or ghost? is it better to be cursed with choice just like his mother or live with an aftermath chosen for him? does it matter if in the end, he convinces himself there was nothing of him left to lose?

his head lolls to the side and the wild buck of his chest slows. he watches johnny beside him, his face lax with the rare peace of sleep; his cheek squished against the pillow, his lips pursed as long breaths escape him.

johnny. soap. never torn asunder but two all the same.

he carefully reaches out and ghosts his fingers along the jagged scar on his chin. even in sleep, he presses into his bloodied touch. he’s never fled his half-flesh, never shies away from his gore as it spills unbidden from his cleaved torso. he holds on where his mother let him go; cups his stomach to hold his insides in place and never minds the blood that drips through his fingers.

simon will never let him become his own solomon and cannibalise himself. he will never let him question which half of him has more value; which pieces he can afford to lose before he’s cast aside.

ghost’s soap. simon’s johnny. his.

whole, in any incarnation.

[polkadotjohnson]

[likeanageoldclassic]

how it started vs how it’s going

[weepingtalecowboy]

Fanfic prompt: the blood moon rises but unfortunately shadow and the chain miss each other by a day

So he gets left behind in Wild's Hyrule gets in a fight with a hinox

And the Yiga hear of a massive explosion in a forest and immediately go there in case the hero is there

But instead they find a toddler who has absolutely no trouble with massacring the hinox population (because the blood moon brings back monsters stronger and that would apply to shadow)

The Yiga soldier decides that he will be smart that one time and retreats to tell his master about the situation

And kohga gets interested because another hero has appeared

From nowhere and he is all by himself with the other heroes missing

Then he decides to make a grand entrance

But then regrets it because that darkness coming off the kid

Is a sort of darkness he has only experienced once before

The day he encountered the calamity In all its glory

With the calamity gone nothing should have such powers anymore

Whoever that child was he was the closest thing to the calamity in decades (blood moon aside)

So the entire Yiga clan immediately starts warshipping shadow and invite him to their humble hideout

And shadow decides that they are definitely evil but also if Vio managed to play the role of a villain then he could do it even better

And makes it his mission to be the best overlord they could have ever had and give those weirdos a redemption arc

But quickly sidetrackes when he finds out that he is at full power

The Yiga see their new lord pull out a bomb and bomb an entire crater in the desert

When he shapeshiftes into a perfect replica of kohga and crawls up a wall with shadow power

They quickly learn that he very well could be the next calamity

They then at some point awkwardly ask him where he got such power

When he told them that he is ganon's secret love child

They don’t even doubt it and change their suits to purple

The races of Hyrule main while are in genuine fear because the Gerudo heard a massive explosion in the Yiga's hideout

The Yiga stopped eating bananas and began Making evil root beer (?)

And the hinox population has moved to the desert

And they are wearing purple

So obviously the world is ending

When the chain appears back they hear that the calamity returned from the dead and is causing massive destruction but most importantly the chain sees the entire world think that the world is ending

Just because the Yiga stopped eating bananas

And arm themselves for the apocalypse and the potential end of the world

Because what did dink do to make the Yiga willing to drop their addiction

When it turns out to be shadow four was ready to hit him for the stunt

[gothiethefairy]

@dimdiamond and i were going back and forth the other day on discord about laios and kabru's bedroom antics. it went from angst to fluff to humor lol

i was going off on a headcanon of mine that laios has a fear of not breathing/being choked, basing off what we know from canon (laios as a child getting choked by a ghost, him always protecting his neck and throat area, the forshaowing of that for the later chapters, etc.)

so, one night while laios and kabru are getting intimate, kabru decides to try to give laios a light choking, in a "heat of the moment" kind of thing. however, laios freaks out and pushes kabru off of him. the mood is pretty much ruined and they're both feeling bad about what just happened. it takes the following morning for the two to talk it out.

their solution to avoid something like that happening again are The Lists (tm). kabru writes down a list of things he's okay with and laios does the same. then, they exchange lists to each other, and write down edit notes on each other's lists and hand them back. they do this for days. it's like passing notes in class, but it's the king and his advisor/lover writing down what is okay to do in bed lol.

then laios forgot his list one day in one of the meeting rooms and marcille finds it. both laios and kabru are embarrassed when she holds it up like a dirty towel lol.

[go6jo]

im thinking. play fighting with oliver early in your relationship and he teasingly wraps a hand around your neck once he manages to pin you under him on the matress, just a ghost of a touch really because he’s still not sure where your boundaries lie just yet and then you reach for his neck with both hands, mirroring his move and you actually apply a little pressure, very lightly to test the waters ... he’ll moan. so shamelessly, too. from then on whenever you’re making out his hand will creep up to rest at the base of your neck and he squeezes weakly as a cue and oliver fully expects you to return the gesture and its so sensual yet intimate and its also playful because you’re kissing in between ragged breaths and sighing and panting into each other’s mouths and you’re both slightly lightheaded because of the subtle decrease in oxygen coursing through your veins..he’d be smirking through the whole thing, too.

[incesthemes]

what attracts me to the transfemme fitzjames headcanon is that it has potential to add another layer of tragedy to his story. like he never had the chance to even consider who he was or what he wanted; he died before he could even explore the options. he never got to pull off the mask—he lived a man, he died a man, and he is remembered a man. the end of vanity came too late for him

[alphagirl404]

With having a terrible relationship with her father before he died, and losing her bio mom & two people she saw as mother figures, I would not be surprised if Zelda would have insecurities with becoming a mom, to put it lightly...

[meltedmush]

how long does it take you to draw your sketches/doodles? also do you have any tips to draw faster? 🙇‍♀️

I generally take 30 - 60 minutes a sketch,,,, but honestly really depends on how detailed it is.

Like a Chibi will be done in 20 - 25 minutes (Counting in the extra time I spend on minute details like a perfectionist 😭)

I for some reason really like spending egregious amounts of time on random objects too??? Unless it’s the in the background, I’ll spend 40 minutes refining it.

Random characters that are fully colored and rendered with take like 80 minutes.

The comics take usually take an hour or two per page. (If I decide to cross hatch it, my entire day will be gone with 4 pages… so I’ve been trying to find shortcuts. But not without sacrificing the quality for time lol)

I don’t think there’s any trick or magic to drawing faster. It’s really about weaponizing your artistic knowledge, and finding what’s comfortable or convenient for you!

There was a period of time where I would spend 11 or 12 hours on an illustration, and it wASS UGLYYYYY. (Some of these artworks are still available on my tumblr,,, but it’s SO LONG AGO, AND IT WAS MY 1ST OR 2ND YEAR GETTING INTO DIGITAL ART)

Overtime I learned what worked best for me, and practiced till I felt more comfortable with what I was drawing. Eventually I managed to shorten the time to 4 hours or less! Ambition was my biggest enemy but at the same time my biggest motivator. (And it still is LMFAO) 😭

EDIT (bit more to my way too long tangent): ALSO??? BRO DON’T BE AFRAID TO USE YOUR MESSY SKETCH AS LINEART OR DRAW ON TOP OF IT. I’VE DONE IT FOR YEARS NOW AND IT ADDS SUCH A GOOD EXTRA BIT OF TEXTURE,, AT THIS POINT I DON’T EVEN USE LINE-ART ANY MORE UNLESS IT’S A COMMISSION,, (IT’LL ADD LIKE AN 2-4 HOURS TO MY WORK)

[judesmoonbeauty]

Quick Quip from Licht Klein’s Act 2 Ch. 10 - w/Azel

Just a quick quip from chapter 10 summary t/l - not 100%. Idk why, but I can’t help but laugh at Azel and his salesman ways 😝

///denotes alt translation

After waking from a dream about the rose in the rose garden, Emma receives a knock at her door. It’s Azel. It’s the middle of the night and he lets himself into her room.

Emma asks if this is common Tanzanite etiquette. He says it’s not but he doesn’t really care. He is there with an offer. 

Azel gives Emma three packages to choose from - each costing money from her - he’s not helping out the goodness of his heart. 

The lowest option plan is delivery service of a letter he offers one way and round-trip deliveries, but the cost will vary.

The middle plan includes a monitoring service of Licht and his well-being, & the letter delivery service.

The high option plan of Azel his authority to bring Licht back.

Since Emma can’t afford to pay out, she chooses option 3 the most affordable package.

He congratulates her for her choice and offers to bless her letter at an additional service fee………(🙄 oh god.)

Emma thinks that when Azel is silent he really seems like a god, but as soon as he opens his mouth he seems strangely vulgar///mundane.

————

I’m planning to translate summaries of each chapter once I complete his first ending. There is part of this conversation where his veil is slightly lifted imo and it gives me a little reassurance of some theories I have about him. This will be posted later.

[cirwedh]

I think you can really see the influence of the last decade of hit action/adventure RPGs. Assassin’s Creed, God of War, and Horizon have all come up in our discussions of the warrior combat and 22 minutes as a mage videos.

Which is fine? I liked those games!

But they don’t do for me what Dragon Age does for me.

[vamprisms]

i love having minthara in my party because she will just say insane shit unprompted.

[bakaramia]

Vox no matter what the ppl on twitter do to you you will always be the overcompensating insecure tsundere baby I saw and fell in love with the first time I watched Hazbin.