#won't go quietly

[faeriekit]

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.]

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💚 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.”

[everyryuujisuguro]

[valeriefauxnom]

Yo, since you brought it up, what's the interpretation of Abyss's ending you like the most?

Going for blood, huh, anon? I'll bite!

I'm on the side of 'technically I think it should be Asch in Luke's body' side even if I acknowledge it's ultimately ambiguous.

The Contamination sidequest, of course, is the principle foundation for this argument, as it spells out pretty clearly: Asch will die, but Asch will assume Luke's body as a backup. Luke will remain in body but not spirit, further twisting the knife to Jade, who no longer would want his dream of 'replicas as a replacement body' to come true as he wished for Nebilim.

We also see an example of the effect with Star in Ortion cavern. The group comes back to see that the original cheagle has died, and the replica remains. But when Jade interviews the cheagle via Mieu, he finds out that it is the original in the replica's body, who felt weak, passed out, and woke up in another body.

More arguably, but I also might look to Jade's immediate response after he learns of Asch's death. He starts asking Luke about how it feels and all that, likely trying to get a gauge on what's happening, if there's any chance Luke is escaping the Big Bang, etc. He wants Luke to escape this with his life, no matter how dismal the odds even without Asch's death.

...And he doesn't seem pleased with the response he gets.

There's also his response at Tataroo itself, which, okay, very arguable, but to me is not a pleased look from Jade. I'm not claiming to be any kind of expert on reading emotions, but Jade's to me looks like one more of grief and/or disappointment than of happiness, especially in the anime, which could have more expressiveness than the original PS2 graphics in a game that had some notably poorly cutscenes.

And while yes, the mysterious figure does have more visual hints to Luke than Asch, and does reference a 'promise', I will say that to the latter both of the redheads were chucking around promises to everyone and is ambiguous. Luke's promise to Guy, to Tear, Asch's to Luke, etc.

Also, I just think it could be a unique and sad ending if Asch, who has utterly loathed replicas and the concept of one, from Van's grooming and his own trauma regarding Luke's replacement, finds himself a 'replica' in the new world, in his counterpart's body, and has to start trying to figure out what to do and who to be in the new world while puppeting around what's effectively the corpse of another person. It's just uniquely horrifying a concept that I would have loved to see explored. Heck, maybe even a postgame or game about the Jade Gang dealing with the impending fonon crisis while maybe trying to find a way to get Luke back and all the drama that could result would have been fun.

...But, as always, this is a very cursory summary of some of the most common arguments for Asch. We could dissect the Contamination Effect and Big Bang and all that all day, but to me, I personally don't see any evidence that it is not working as prescribed on Eldrant, or 'reversed' as some people argue. The one example we see is it working as intended, and Jade doesn't seem all that pleased when it seems like it's starting to kick up with Luke.

However, I'd like to throw a much rarer argument into the works as a thing to consider, just for fun.

What if it's not Asch in Luke's body or the reverse, or a merging of the two into one mind/body...But Lorelei?

To this, I'd like to point out that Lorelei has a sworn duty to answer the Grand Fonic Hymn of Yulia. And what was Tear signing right before this mysterious person popped up randomly in a field when Luke nor Asch show a particular skill in stealth? Well I mean Luke says he's good at hide and seek but still

Uh-huh, Grand Fonic Hymn. This could also explain the 'promised' quote. Lorelei is fulfilling its covenant with Yulia in heeding her descendant's call.

The mysterious person's speech and behavior, for however short we see it, is...ethereal? For lack of a better word? Detached? Both Luke and Asch are very emotional people and don't tend to speak in such a even, neutral tone. Lorelei, however, is a fonic sentience (well, so is Luke, but Luke is a mini chunk of Lorelei) and is not human at the end of the day. What few lines we do get from it in game are 'indirect' and otherwise formatted in a manner humans don't usually use when speaking. To me, the more detached 'This place has a nice view of Hod' compared to anything Luke or Asch might have said normally, even a greeting, is more aligned with Lorelei's potential behavior.

So yeah. Perhaps it's Lorelei, come to Auldrant after heeding Tear's call, perhaps in its' scions' visages, attempting to honor them both by assuming elements of both now that they (or at least Luke) have re-assimilated into the greater whole of Lorelei. Lorelei certainly seems to like its scions.

In the end I can just summarize: scientifically, I think it's Asch, canonically, it's ambiguous. No matter what side of the debate one is on, I dislike people trying to insist that it is absolute fact that x happened. I think part of the ambiguity is intended to reflect the fact that the Score is gone, the future is no longer set. Notice also how all the text boxes are gone after the Score is repealed. What they're saying- what's happening is no longer has a single canonical answer. So even if I do think more of the rules of the Abyss world point to Asch, it's ultimately up in the air.

[hyacinthsdiamonds]

Seeing the same people who perpetuated or sent vicious misogynistic hate to Hannah Schmitz, as well as disgusting racist abuse towards Yuki and Alex because of FUCKING CONSPIRACY THEORIES and those who just straight up ignored it, now up in arms regarding whatever the fuck is going on between the FIA and the wolffs is beginning to piss me off. Because now that it's not someone red bull affiliated involved, it's somehow now unacceptable.

[hella1975]

are you guys thinking about touya todoroki today because i am

[katierosefun]

you know life must be pretty busy when you're actually looking forward to finals

[corndogshelter]

performed a psychic attack on a child at the Chinese Buffet

[spiderwarden]

it's really saying something that with my headcanons and canonical evidence pulled from the game, Minthara's mother is better than mine.

[littlestarprincess]

. . . I hate when people mistake "the narrative doesn't explore this female character's interiority" with "this female character is dumb and helpless".

It's better when they say "passive" because at least that is something you can concretely see or not see, but . . . when you don't see anything of a female character's thought processes and default to assuming she's "dumb and helpless" that says more about you than anything else.

[shinjiroaragaki]

UUUGHHHHH brain full of Narzissenkreuz Institute lore.

[artistiafox]

As we're approaching the Season 3 finale of NCIS Hawai'i, remember it is just the season 3 finale, not series finale, because we do not agree to the terms and conditions provided to us by @cbs and would like to speak to their manager Paramount for allowing them to continue with their nonsense.

[muskpunk]

when eating doesn't make brain stop being Bad: uh oh

[disastrousfeline]

it's so joever

[spaceratprodigy]

one day I'll finally talk/write abt what happens between them on scylla but I think nonstop abt what his vision mom says

[tvrningout]

also lemme just say that i appreciate everyone indulging me with ships and fluff and whatnot bc i've always been so nervous about asking for that stuff despite!! really loving it!! i just love all the character development that's involved, i love all the emotional connection and the significance of lil actions and words can have on someone, i love writing and thinking about all of it!! and i just!! really appreciate that lately, i feel comfortable openly offering romantic connections uvu

[burrrning--soul]

Just because you join other fandoms, doesn’t mean you have to stop talking to your friends...