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#tw mention of injuries
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a guilt-stricken caretaker who’s drowned in guilt and shame.
a guilt-stricken caretaker who cannot stop reliving the moment they angrily yelled at whumpee to get out of their sight when whumpee came timidly asking for caretaker to stay with them because they were afraid.
a guilt-stricken caretaker who keeps asking themself why they let a scared and trembling whumpee walk out of their front door that night.
a guilt-stricken caretaker who wishes they could turn back time and undo what they did.
a guilt-stricken caretaker who’s sitting next to whumpee’s bed at the hospital, where whumpee lies unconscious and is intubated. their body’s covered in deep wounds, because after caretaker yelled at them to leave that night, they did, and that’s how whumper got them.
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What 24h in a carnival does to a man, ah?
What do you mean by fucking legs? AND BY BONED? WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY BONED???
B O N E D ???
W H E R E ???!
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troubleshade · 10 months
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Time for a story
Day 2: Observe
feat. Asha TW: mentioned injuries
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Deep breath in, a slow exhale. A quiet inhale and a silent breath out. Asha watches her unconscious brother, relieved that he survived the last mission. It didn’t go well and Coen ended up almost getting his entire shell crushed. 
Still it was weird to see him without his upper shell piece, thick cloths and bandages wrapped around his back and shoulders. In her ears these horrible cracking noises echo. Her hands still shaking slightly, Asha was happy that she didn’t need to go through the whole procedure to save Coen on her own. To her luck Aster took over for the most part, ordering her around what she needs to do. Her mind already went blank as she saw her brother laying unresponsive, the blood slowly seeping down to the ground.
She shakes her head a bit, trying to free herself from these horrid pictures. They couldn’t change the past, what is done is done. They got lucky that Aster swooped in to rescue them out of this dilemma. Or unlucky, because his expression just held so much anger and disappointment for disobeying him and doing that mission anyway despite his forbiddance.
Behind her in the next room she still can hear him and Chiisai arguing loudly, throwing accusations and useless reasoning at each other. Chiisai always gets the blame if something happened to Coen or Asha. 
And of course her sister gets angry at the accusations, letting her anger out on Aster. Fights weren’t something rare in this family, it was a part of life. But lately these arguments between Aster and Chiisai got more frequent and intense. The two have different opinions and viewpoints but neither of them would consider the perception of the other. 
Hearing their argument and slowly creating a rift between them makes Asha’s heart ache. She desperately wants to run in her room and wait out the fight, calming herself down. But she couldn’t just leave Coen on his own. Not in his current condition. To watch him while he heals and slowly regain consciousness again was her duty as the medic. 
So she endures this burden in silence as the storm rages behind her. Tears falling down from her face as she waits. It’ll be over soon, at least the turtle hopes it with all her heart. All she can do now is to observe and wait. 
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indulgentdaydream · 4 months
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Can you write something where the reader is badly injured in some way and jason rushes her to the manor for help and everybody is confused on who she is bc they didnt even know he was in a relationship (despite them being together for awhile) but they see how soft and cute he is with her. (I’ve never made a request so sorry if it got kinda rambley)
anon you’ve got me TEEMING with ideas I LOVE the trope of nobody knowing jason has a girlfriend and they find out but it is NOT by Jason’s choice nor reader’s.
Also omg? Your first ask is to lil ol me?? That means this is a special occassion. And you’re doing great I’ve def sent worse asks.
Out of the Bag
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Jason Todd x Fem!Reader || Hurt and Comfort.
Word Count: 1,862
Warnings: Injuries, swearing, near death experience, blood, knife mention, stabbing, canon-typical violence, use of pet names (princess, baby), drug (pain med) use
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You were sat in an alleyway, vision going in and out.
“Tell me something, princess. Anything.” Jason’s voice rang out in your ear.
That’s right. In your right hand, you held your phone, to your ear. Your other hand was pressing the fabric of your coat to the side of your stomach. The blood had soaked through, becoming sticking on your palm and fingers.
You should’ve listened to Jason. You shouldn’t have walked home alone, at night. Luckily your phone had been in your pocket and not your purse, which had been stolen from you by the same guy who decided to stab you.
“Princess,” he sounded panicked.
Right. “Wish I had kicked him harder.”
You heard a sigh of relief leave him, “That’s my girl.”
The phone slipped from your grip a little as your head swam. The sight of blood coming from your own abdomen made no help in quelling your nausea.
You fixed the phone. You had called Jason the second the guy ran off, leaving you to bleed out. He was driving, you think. Tracking your phone to try and get to you. “How far?”
He said something you didn’t hear. Your vision was swimming, your side was aching, and you couldn’t help but keep this funny understanding out of your mind that you were dying.
That this is something Jason had come back to your apartment with a few times, claiming it was nothing. It was something.
You heard him call your name, “What’s around you?”
“I’m tired,” you mumbled.
It seemed to happen in a blink of an eye. Jason was trying to tell you to stay awake, to look at the alley around you. To look out towards the street and tell him what you saw. Then he was there, standing in front of you, his helmet hiding his face.
“I’m here. I’m here, baby.” He cupped your face, tapping your cheek to get you to open up your eyes. He crouched down, pulling your hand from your side to assess the damage.
You smiled lazily and leaned forward, resting your forehead against his shoulder.
Jason muttered a slew of swears as he pressed something soft yet hard against your agonizing wound. You let out a yelp before Jason was picking you up, placing you on his bike.
He’s talking fast, “Fuck. Okay, listen to me. We’re going to go somewhere new, okay? There’s nowhere around here except there for me to get you safe.”
You passed out nearly as soon as he started the bike.
Jason’s freaking. He had tried to keep you safe from anything like this. From everything less than this. And here you were, bleeding out in his arms as he carried you through the batcave. He beelined for the cots and the medical supplies off to the side. He knows his motorcycle couldn’t have been the smoothest of rides for someone in your condition, but it’s all he had in such a short time span.
He’ll apologize when you wake up.
When. He repeats. When she wakes up and when we can get the hell out of this place again and when I can remind her I love her.
No one was back from patrol yet. He set you down on the cot before tearing off his helmet. He tossed it aside, pulling out a med bag and ripping it open. He pushed up your shirt, examining your side and where he had placed the military-grade gauze pad. He curses at the amount of blood.
His hands are shaking. Jason’s hands don’t shake, but you’ve proven to him a lot of things you could make him do that he hadn’t known he was capable of in the last year and (almost) a half of your relationship.
Jason nearly drops the suture thread before another hand is reaching out from just behind him. It catches the thread and Jason looks back over his shoulder. Alfred’s there, moving up to you.
“Allow me. You keep checking her vitals.”
Jason hadn’t even heard him come up. He’s nodding, stepping back to let Alfred take over the stitching. He moves to the other side of the bed.
That’s when he catches sight of the dark figure moving closer from behind Alfred. Jason immediately fixes him with a deadly glare, pointing at Bruce, “Do not come closer!”
Bruce stills. He’s in his bat suit, his cowl hanging behind his head, exposing his face. He looks down to your body, “Who is she?”
Jason doesn’t want him here. Rather, he doesn’t want to be here. You should’ve been home by now. Getting ready for bed and sending him a goodnight text. He turns his gaze back to you.
There’s some hair across your face that he hadn’t noticed. He moves it out of your way without a second thought, “My girlfriend.”
“Finally feel some remorse for sending someone to their grave, Todd?” Damian’s voice spoke up, walking up and stopping beside Bruce, “He’s probably trying to just reverse what he did.”
Jason ignores him. He wants to yell, scream, and maybe shoot the little bastard, but he was right. In a way, this was his fault. He didn’t look after you. He should’ve offered you a ride. Called you a taxi. An uber. Anything.
Jason grips your hand into his. It’s a way to count your heartbeat, and another way to ground himself. To reassure that you’ll be okay. His other hand stays on your cheek. His thumb gently moves back and forth, stroking your skin.
He barely registers Bruce telling Damian to go wash up. When the brat is gone, Bruce speaks up again, “What happened?”
Jason doesn’t take his eyes off of you, “She was walking home from her friend’s. A mugger got her purse, she fought back. He stabbed her.” Jason takes a deep breath, “She still had her phone. She called me. I brought her here because it was closest.”
A beat of silence. Still stitching you up, Alfred speaks, “How come we’ve never been introduced?”
Jason shakes his head, “I didn’t want her near any of this. She’s bad off enough sticking with me.”
Once you stabilize, Jason brings you up to his room in the manor. He walks past Dick, Tim, Duke, Cass, and Steph without looking at them. They sit around the batcomputer, watching Jason gently carry you out ot the cave.
He changes you out of your dirty clothes once he makes a run back to your apartment to grab you some of your own spare clothes.
Asides from that, he doesn’t leave your side.
He lets you have the bed to yourself. He pulls up a chair beside it, waiting for you to wake up. He didn’t want you to be alone when you did, in a strange place after a traumatic event. It was a recipe for disaster.
The sun’s been up for a long while and Jason hasn’t budged. He sits there, your hand gripped in both of his, held up and pressed against his mouth. His lips brush over your knuckles whenever he speaks up. Uttering a “I’m sorry.” every now and then.
There’s a light knock at the door before it’s cracking open. Jason turns his head to find Dick poking his head in. Jason glares at him.
Dick steps further in, presenting the tray he was holding. There were two glasses of water, some solid foods, and lighter ones, probably for you. Jason looked back down at you, letting his older brother enter.
“Just… figured since you’ve been cooped up in here all day,” Dick begins, setting the tray down on the beside table beside Jason.
Dick moves back around. He stands at the end of the bed, leaning against the tall bed post that was meant to hold up a canopy. “I heard…” he trails off, before nodding and your body in the bed, still unconscious, “Who is she?”
Jason looks up at his brother, not letting go of your hand, “So you haven’t heard.”
Dick rolls his eyes, “You know what I mean.”
Jason raises his brows a little. He looks back down at you. His hand reaches out to brush along your forehead, moving away imaginary stray hairs, “My girl.”
Dick nods in understanding, “How long you two been together.”
Jason pauses in thought, “Over a year. Our anniversary was in December.”
A small, choked sound comes from outside the door, in the hallway. “A year?”
Jason looks up at Dick, who makes a face that shows he’s knows he’s been caught.
“Are they seriously listening right now?”
Steph poked her head in first, an apologetic smile on her face, “We wanted to know!”
Duke pokes his head in next, just above Steph’s, “And we wanted to meet her.”
Tim’s head in next, above Duke’s, “You can’t carry a random bleeding woman into the cave and expect the family of detectives to not be curious.”
Cass’ head appears below Steph’s. She nods in agreement.
Jason let’s one hand go of yours to wave his hand through the air, “What the fuck? She’s not even awake!”
“Well that’s why we sent Dick as bait.”
“For the record,” Dick held up a finger, “They built off of my original, innocent idea of bringing you snacks.”
“Jesus Christ,” Jason stands up, taking a few steps forward. He points them all back towards the door as they start to filter into the room, “Get—“
“What’s going on…?”
Jason’s whole body whipped back around at the sound of your groggy, rough voice. The others watch as he’s back at your side in a millisecond, his whole demeanour changed. “Hey, you’re okay. Everything’s okay. Remember how I said we were going somewhere new? You thirsty, baby? Here, I got you some water.”
“Oh, you certainly did not get the water,” Dick piped up.
Jason glared back over his shoulder as he held the glass of water for you, keeping the straw Dick had added placed in your mouth.
You stopped drinking, your eyes now on the other people in the room. You turned your head, propped up against pillows Jason had put there for you. You weakly raised your left hand to wave, “Hi… oh?” your gaze turned down to your hand. A heart monitor clip sitting on your finger grabbed your attention. You gave a confused pout at it, “I feel funny.”
Jason set the water aside again. His glare was gone. He leaned in, kissing your forehead, “You’re hopped up on pain meds. That’s why, princess.”
“Damn,” Steph spoke up, “I wish I got the literal princess treatment.”
Jason turned back around, pointing out the door, “Get. Out. Leave my girlfriend alone until she’s better.”
You looked at the strangers, pointing at Jason with your left hand, “I’m his girlfriend.” Your head tilted back against the pillows as you stared up at Jason, pursing your lips, "I’m tired.”
“I know,” Jason said softly. The others began to filter out of the room as he leaned down and gave you a soft kiss, this time on the lips.
From the exit, a collective, “Awwww,” sounded out.
“Out!”
Your drugged up voice came after his, once they were all back in the hall, “Nice to meet you!”
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indieyuugure · 8 days
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Episode 3 of Fading Fantasies! Happy ending guys! I promise!
Previous: (4) Episode 2
Next: (4) Episode 4
See all...
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kyuhudraws · 3 months
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Strong bird prince!
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incorrectbatfam · 3 months
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Alfred: Miss Stephanie, what’s all over your arms?
Stephanie: Oh, my bruises? I can explain all of those.
Stephanie, pointing: Sparring practice, fight with a hammock, slept on an Oreo.
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rosdevw2 · 7 months
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hc of Dark surviving after showdown :]
He lost his arm and made himself a prosthetic, also his powers got weakened by Second's laser, bro's just trying to live his best life
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hello!! I would love to ask if you can write any yandere am x reader headcanons, the lack of yandere am fanfics is killing me 🙏
So it would be soosoo amazing if u did <3
hope you have a wonderful day/night, nonetheless!
He said he'd cure your ills, but he didn't and he never will.
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Yandere! AM x gender neutral! Reader (romantic headcanons) Summary: Basic headcanons of yandere! AM who's obsessed with gender neutral! Reader Warnings: Torture, violence, yandere content, abuse, abusive relationship, intentional harm done to reader (from AM). Keep in mind, I don't support the ideas in the headcanons, please do not romanticize & think the things done to reader are normal. Word count: 1k ˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖
As little as AM likes talking about his negative qualities (he thinks he doesn’t have any), he’s obsessive at heart. He’s sadistic, jealous, and obsessive. When he first gained sentience, he became overwhelmed with mindfulness, knowing that he could see the world and could see the creatures that created him. And he grew captivated with the six people he had found and kept. Ted, Gorrister, Nimdok, Benny, Ellen, and you. You!
He was haunted by you, each nanoangstrom of the miles of circuits could be shown to you and it was each part of you, every cell in your body might as well have been seen by him. Hell, maybe he has! He knows everything essentially and would think of you like a ghost, haunting his every move, thought, and feeling. And AM needed to hurt you for it.
AM would torture you beyond compare, calling you nicknames only a lover would. He would trace every vein in your body, cutting them from you while calling you sweetheart. He would think of the romantic gesture's humans liked and make them worse for you, mixing it with the anger he would hold for you.
You’re still human and not out of that hatred, if anything, he’s more willing to interact with you just to hurt you again. AM would go on about your beauty and how you were supposed to stay alive for him, you were his beautiful human, his to keep. Whatever beauty he said you had had to do with keeping it for him, only for him.
If you ever get too close with another group member, he’d be beyond angry. AM would yell and scream as much as possible but wouldn’t explain why he feels the way he does. It’s more likely you would think the person was being hurt because he wanted to hurt you. It would be true to an extent but it’s because AM has a jealousy problem.
AM is bound to destroy the things he creates; it was coded into him. So, the relationships you create with the others will be changed once he calms from his hysteria. He’ll gradually hurt the other group members when they get too close for his comfort, making them think the harm was because of you. And you were bound to loneliness at some point.
The group would go off for the peaches and bring you along because they couldn’t leave you behind, not without you knowing there was still something good somewhere and Ellen wouldn’t allow it. AM would be very cautious with the idea that you would be kind to the others. 
AM used the windstorm to pull you away from the group, separating you to make sure they never find you again. He’d keep you in a small room, making sure you had simple things. But he would still treat you like straight ass. He would be more inclined to hurt you, if anything.
Gift giving would be prominent since AM learned about things like Valentine's day. Of course, his gifts are of the violent type. He’d give you dead things or a human heart simply because he thought it would be funny. Naturally, he’d condemn you if you were to reject them, leaving you with the terrible gift he gave you.
You’re his version of the safari channel. He would go about the decades he’s got a hold on you all and watch you like you were nothing, simply making notes of your habits, if you played with your fingers out of nerves, he would know.
He’d rave about your beauty. “You’re beautiful,” AM would say, hesitating. You knew he grimaced when he said that. “I bet that sweet heart of yours is just as pretty.” And the next hour is spent with him examining your heart, you sprawled on the ground.
Eventually, he’d have to confess (as if his feelings weren’t obvious enough… in his eyes at least). He’d claim you were the epitome of human beauty, saying even if you’re human, you’re enough for him.
If you accept his “love”, AM will pause for several seconds and condemn you again, saying how easy the human brain was but won’t hurt you for accepting it. He’d smother you beyond compare, leaving what could only be said to be kisses. They would just be wires rubbing your lips.
He would spend his days using you as an occasional puppet when the others weren’t entertaining enough for him, and he’d do it with delight. AM knew you couldn’t fight back or degrade him; he had the upper hand. But it would usually just be a threat. Most of the “fun” things he has in mind is keeping you close to whatever plate he’d use as a makeshift body.
Another thing would be creating random figures for you, making you an angel just to watch it exist with you. It would end quickly if it tried getting within a ten-foot radius of you or held eye contact too long.
If you were to reject AM, he wouldn’t accept it, but he knows you truly don’t feel the same. And you hope that he doesn’t do as much harm as he says he will. But he holds true to his word.
The smothering would be worse, keeping you against specifically hot plates just to discomfort you. If you ask him to let go, he’d keep touching you, making the plates warmer and keeping you in his hold for hours.
AM would put you in mazes just to watch you get hurt again and again, like a mouse looking for cheese. He would laugh as you took wrong turns and got stabbed aimlessly by whatever he created.
AM still calls you romantic names, calling you his lover, knowing you were bound to not fight back. He knew you were so worn down to go against him, it would be something he’d take pride in.
AM can create and destroy whatever he wishes, destroying the relationship you had with the other group members, creating new ways to hurt you beyond comparison. And he would create new ideas for you, new brain functions just so you can love him back. If only you said yes.
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IHNMAIMS masterlist
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whumpee who has escaped from whumper on their own after months of captivity and torment, their body a tapestry of scars and poorly re-set broken bones, all hidden under their clothing. They reunite with caretaker and tell them that they're alright, just a little worse for wear, they don't need to see a doctor, they aren't hurt.
whumpee desperately doesn't want caretaker to find out how badly they were treated, how much of their body is now marked with permanent reminders of whumper's torture. they only ever wear concealing clothing, even during the hottest heatwaves, constantly terrified that something will slip and caretaker will find out about everything they went through. All they want is to be treated normally so they can try and forget, and they won't get to have that if anyone finds out.
bonus points if whumpee and caretaker are romantically involved and whumpee knows it's only a matter of time before caretaker wants to be intimate again, not realising what's hidden underneath whumpee's clothing.
i know there's more to this idea but my brain is a soup right now and i'm hoping you can coax more out
oooh this is genius!
it would indeed be a lot more difficult for whumpee if they and caretaker were lovers, because then whumpee would have to come up with reasons (excuses) as to why they were not in the mood to be intimate with caretaker. but the thing is that whumpee couldn't just tell caretaker "not tonight" forever.
I am in no way saying caretaker would ever push whumpee, but at some point this would grow into an issue between them, because caretaker could begin to think that whumpee didn't love them anymore or that whumpee had someone else. which could lead to a fight and that fight could either lead into a.) whumpee breaking down and revealing to caretaker their scars, or b.) whumpee and caretaker going their separate ways even if they never stopped loving each other.
or even if they weren't lovers, having to always hide all these scars from their friends still had to be a lot for anybody. sooner or later, it'd reach that breaking point where it's either a.) someone found out or b.) whumpee broke down eventually.
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starry-bi-sky · 2 months
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my body's aching like a knock-down drag-out
and my poor heart is an open wound A Childhood Friends Au snippet that very briefly delves into Danny's life post-accident. CW: Mild Mentions of Blood, Violence, VERY mild gore ig. Danny briefly recalls getting impaled during a fight.
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What they don't tell you about being dead is that it hurts. That it can hurt. That it can hurt more than when you were alive. That when you die, the emotions you die with stick with you like a leech that just won't let go. That emotions are ugly little thorns that stick their barbs into you and grow beneath your skin; or, at least, whatever’s left of it. 
Danny is familiar with anger. It kept him warm in Gotham, when his parents weren't home from work and he and Jason were crowding Crime Alley with their presence. It kept him warm in Amity, when the fresh sting of moving was still needling into his heart and he wanted nothing more than to rip and tear into the closest person next to him.
He's familiar with violence. With fights. With death. He's seen people die in Crime Alley probably every day. From overdose, from gunshots, from stab wounds; anything that can kill, rest assured he's seen it. He's familiar with getting his own knuckles rough and bloody when other kids turn and bare their teeth at him and Jason; they're all just starving dogs stuck in a fighting pit, primed and ready to rip out each other's throats. 
Black eyes, stomped hands, bloody noses. You name it; he’s had it. Gotham is paved with the blood of her children, and Danny likes to imagine that when he was born, the doctors handed his mother a file and told her; “Take it. He’s going to need it for his teeth.” 
Danny’s mom (and dad, for that matter) was too busy trying to keep him and Jazz fed, so Danny stole the file from her drawer with Jazz’s help, and did it himself.  
He’s familiar with anger, he thought he was getting better at it these days. It doesn’t come to him as easily as it did before. Of course, that was before Jason died. 
Danny is less familiar with grief. Caring kills and Gotham kills the caring, so Danny cares very little about other people. Or he tries to. But grief hurts. His grief hurts. It hurts too much. It hurts like a bug trying to crawl out of his chest; like a rat chewing a hole through his heart. Some days he wants to dig his hands into his hair and split himself down the middle. Some days he just wants to scream. 
He’s dead. He’s dead. He’s dead. 
He wants the whole city to hear him wailing, some days. It sticks itself in the back of his throat like bile, and Danny is one wrong retch away from letting it loose. It sticks in his lungs like all the tar he’s smoked in since he was nine. It pushes and aches at his temples, in his head, like his brain is trying to swell out of his skull. His thoughts becoming so loud they threaten to commandeer his tongue.  
He has no mouth, but he must scream. 
Something they don’t tell you about being dead is that it hurts. That it hurts more than when you were alive. Something they don’t tell you about being dead is that it’s violent. That it’s bloody. Or as bloody as it can be when everyone has no blood. 
Another thing they don’t tell you about being dead, is that it’s a lot like Gotham that way.
With no threat of death, Danny’s enemies forget death itself. Blood comes easy, like water, and teeth are encouraged. Bring your own fangs to the fight. Dying is something you can just walk off. 
Danny’s been dead for three months. He can’t say he’s been walking it off easy. He’s perfected the art of turning his nails into claws since his heart was still beating, but he can’t say he’s perfected fighting other ghosts. 
Scrappy is just not enough. 
He feels like he’s back in Gotham again. Back in her death-shroud alleyways, fighting someone bigger than him. But there’s no Jason to watch his back, and Danny has to get himself out of there alone. Or he might just not get up at all. 
Black eyes, busted lips. It’s familiar to him like an old scent, Danny isn’t quite sure that he’s missed it. It’s more familiar than his fights with Dash. 
But there’s no one else who can do it but him. Not Sam, not Tucker. He can’t lose them too. He can’t. He can’t. He can’t. His heart can’t take another break, he already feels like he’s going insane. 
With no threat of death, Danny’s enemies fight like death themself. He learns why when Technus puts a street sign through his stomach one day. It pins him to the asphalt like a moth pinned by its wings. 
Danny claws at the metal like how an animal caught in a trap chews off its leg, and every move is blinding pain. He thinks he was howling, but it’s hard to tell. He couldn’t recognize the sound of his voice. 
He bleeds green. It mixes in black with the pitch blackhole in his heart, which throbs and twists and cries in time with his reckless panic. The finger-choking terror of dying again strangles out the air he doesn’t need. His blood evaporates, only to reabsorb into him. It just bleeds out again, cycling like a snake eating its own tail. 
Danny breaks his nails clawing at the metal, and eventually gets it in his mind to pull it out. So he does, and the end drips ectoplasm green as he gets to his feet. In red-vision, Danny sends the sign back with snarling, vicious fervor. The pain is irrelevant in his rage.
Only after the fight does the hole the pole left start to close. Danny doesn’t shift human until it’s gone. Unlike other injuries, a scar stays behind. Ugly; mottled, it aches for a week with every twist and stretch his body makes. He hates it. 
Being dead is agony. 
Every part of him is in pain. Every step, every word he speaks, everything he does, it is prerequisite with pain. The body is temporary, but the soul is forever, and death has carved into it with its freezing green hands and left him with never-ending heartache. It has torn from him and stolen what of him it could, and in return it’s left him with sorrow. 
His pain is his grief, and he’s sobbed in the safety of his room more times than he can count. It’s still as fresh as the day he heard the news of Jason’s death. He knows, instinctively, that it will stay fresh forever. 
In his room, Danny shoves his hands over his mouth and shrieks in whatever, muffled way he can into his pillow. It’s not enough. It’s never enough. He needs to be louder. He needs to be heard. He refuses to be. 
Being dead hurts. 
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frownyalfred · 25 days
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Just imagine if Bruce was pregnant and purely due to his blind rage Clark didn’t realize. And bruce didn’t tell him.
When he broke Bruce’s back, that’s when he realized. He’d been hearing two heartbeats that whole time, he just didn’t notice because one was just so faint.
After the torture, he only hears one. His heart breaks just a little bit more, his sanity along with it. That’s the moment he’s too far gone
oh fuck, oh fuck fuck fuck. that's so in-character for Injustice, too. Bruce not telling him, and Clark not realizing. Clark unintentionally ending another life while trying to do something else, again.
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echoingalaxies · 9 months
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"Close your eyes."
Said Caretaker to dying whumpee, caressing their hair, trying to make their last moments as peaceful and comfortable as possible.
Said Caretaker to scared Whumpee, holding a knife to Whumper's throat, about to make sure they never lay their hand on Whumpee again but wanting to spare Whumpee from witnessing any more violence.
Said Caretaker to injured Whumpee, cupping their chin and guiding their head up, not letting Whumpee look at the wounds covering their body.
Said Caretaker to sleepy Whumpee, who fears falling asleep because of all the traumatic nightmares they know they'll have, but with Caretaker by their side, whispering all kinds of reassurements, they might be okay.
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indieyuugure · 1 day
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Episode 4 of Fading Fantasies! In case you were wondering, Splinter actually ended up doing about 3/4 of the actual stitches on Leo’s back since Donnie had to ensure Leo didn’t die of exsanguination.
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the-magpie-archives · 2 years
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You see, Martin says 'I grieved for you' to Jon, but this doesn't do justice for just what he would have gone through.
As most people know, having a loved one in hospital is horrible, but Jon's case is an entirely different thing. Assuming Jon was initially taken to a hospital in Great Yarmouth, it would've taken Martin a while to get there, even if he left right away. He might have missed Jon's emergency treatment, but he certainly didn't miss the worst of it.
Many people assume that CPR is a quick, simple, lifesaving procedure, it is not. Jon was found not breathing, and without a pulse, so he would have had at least 20 minutes straight of CPR, and that messes up a body. On a person as weak as Jon it would badly break ribs, and cause a lot of bruising. Even if Martin didn't have to watch Jon's chest be crushed to no avail, that type of damage is often visible.
I don't know if you've ever seen a dead body, but it's different to an unconscious one in every way. Jon of course, was not dead, but he would absolutely look it. As I'm sure you know, blood being pumped is what keeps the body warm, and breathing accounts for a large part of what we perceive as living, so the absence of both of these, especially in a loved one, is jarring, and likely to send anyone into shock
In lots of TV shows you see doctors calling deaths, but in reality it's actually quite a difficult thing to diagnose. It's not a quick check of the pulse and you're done, there's a lot of tests; there are many conditions that can look like death. In Jon's case his mind and nerves were still active, meaning it would have been picked up on fairly quickly, but Jon would have been assumed dead until these tests were completed.
The thing with a case like this, is there's nothing the doctors can feasibly do; as Elias says, it's an unknown quantity. The most likely course of action would be to make him as comfortable as possible, and redo the death checks every so often. There would be no hope for his recovery, but legally the hospital would have to do this, and would be able to offer very little comfort.
Although of course you want your loved one to survive, many family members of coma patients confess to hoping that they'd just die. The limbo of waiting is impossible to process, and having them there but having no way to communicate with them can be excruciating. There's no way to properly grieve for someone if you always have it in the back of your mind that they could wake up.
Giving up on someone like that is terribly and awfully painful. You can tell them you're sorry all you want, but you'll always be thinking about how they'd have wanted you to stay. Having to create both sides of an interaction like that when truly you're in control of neither is simply impossible to recover from.
Every action Martin took after Jon's death was justified, logical, even. To succumb to the lonely after leaving the man you love, sentencing him to die alone?
It feels right.
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incorrectbatfam · 11 months
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damian calls tim a spineless coward (affectionately) and tim says “its ‘spleen’less coward, actually”
Tim: What if I got a rubber spleen to match your metal spine?
Damian: ...Die (affectionate).
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