body horror text


female awesome meme // (1/10) characters with the best growth - cordelia chase

“oh… and you’re welcome.”

Let me get one thing straight though… Even if Bucky didn’t have innervation in his arm (aka he couldn’t feel anything other than just pressure, ergo couldn’t feel the arm being blown off) he most definitely felt the searing hot metal that was attached to his fucking shoulder. The metal was glowing red hot where it got blown off. Like if you leave the end of a spoon over an open flame and then grab the other end you still burn the shit out of your hand. So imagine your entire shoulder/biceps is made out of metal and the end of it is so hot that it’s glowing red. You don’t think the skin and bone and muscle it’s attached to wont be burning? Like imagine hot metal touching your bones. Bone pain is literally some of the worst kind of pain you can feel and Bucky had searing hot metal attached to his bones. And beyond that it’s still burning his skin, his ligaments, and his muscles. It’s beyond just burning your hand on a hot object because the metal is integrated into his shoulder. And worst of all he can’t get the thing off. He can’t drop the hot spoon because it’s part of him.

So yeah tell me again that Bucky wasn’t in excruciating pain after that

anonymous asked:

Apologies if you've been asked before, but i'm in love with your glutton knight concept and I was curious. Do you think there'd be any non-human ones? Often horses and occasionally even dogs wore armor when brought into battle, (I live near an armory museum so I've even seen some on elephants and the like) so i'm curious to know if it only affects humans !!

Nope! Becoming a glutton knight requires some form of intent. It’s not just magical contamination and armor that makes them what they are; the combination of duty, the doggedness in which they are trained to pursue their quarry, and the righteous aggression towards supernatural creatures all play into what REALLY makes a glutton knight: their preternatural thirst for magical blood.

Which isn’t to say that animal armor doesn’t become part of a knight at times. Glutton knights will shed irreparably damaged, undersized, or otherwise unsuitable armor like hermit crabs and replace it with whatever metal they can find. Those not driven by vanity (or maybe just with weird fashion sense) may make…odd…choices.

An older knight known only as Kerberos is known for incorporating the helms of its fallen steeds into its armor, for example, and even mutating around them to form false ‘heads’. It’s not the only knight to undergo pronounced bestial changes due to deliberate choice in animal-themed armor.

At one point Sam’s temperature climbs above 108 and he goes down hard in the bunker’s hallway, wandering half-delirious with Dean fluttering anxiously at his side. Dean sees Sam start to crumple in his periphery, catches his brother by the underarms and lets his dead weight carry them gracelessly to the ground.

Then Sam starts seizing.

Dean gets a thigh wedged under his head to keep it from banging against the cement while he lies twitching and jerking on the floor, holds him steady like that with fingers wound tight in the fabric of his shirt. There’s saliva foaming up between his lips, dribbling down the sides of his face and his breath is making an awful choking, rattling wheeze in his throat. Dean tilts his brother’s head to clear his airway, hangs on with adrenaline and sick dread churning away in his stomach.

Eventually the spasms stop and Sam goes still. Dean keeps him there on the cement, head pillowed in his lap, rubbing circles into his shoulder and speaking soothing, senseless things while Sam’s eyelids flutter—the way he used to when Sam would have nightmares, or when the hallucinations got so bad there were long bleeding scores on his arms and throat where he tried to claw out the maggots he saw writhing there.

Like those times, it takes a while for Sam to come back to himself. His eyes are half-open but unfocused, failing to take in much of his surroundings. His lips are parted and shining, moving a little as he sucks in air rhythmically. Dean mops the saliva from Sam’s chin with the cuff of his shirtsleeve, smooths the sweaty hair back from his forehead.

Sam is still searing hot to the touch. Burning up from inside. Transforming.

Dean hangs on tight tight tight—prays with all his strength Sam won’t crumble to ash beneath his hands.


Glutton knights experience rust as a crawling itch, and dents can be anything from a cosmetic issue to a painful hindrance in motion, depending on the size. They’ll usually discard problematic pieces of armor for comfort alone, if not for practicality. How long they go between swapping pieces depends largely on upkeep. It’s possible for a knight that’s very fond of their original outfit to shuck a section of armor, repair it, and re-integrate it rather than find a new piece.

If they elect to ENTIRELY discard armor, things get weird. Extreme cases where a knight shuns a section of armor for years/decades may result in the eventual permanent loss of the body part it would have protected via slow absorption. There’s also instances where a knight may wildly crave iron/minerals and end up growing a protective mass of metal to protect exposed areas, stuff like that.

indistinctcur  asked:

how quickly does one change due to magic corruption in england? like the knights have a high risk due to volunteered contact, but what about regular people in england?

Depends on the area, how many magical encounters a person has (and how often), and their emotional state. Most people never get noticeably contaminated, but everyone probably has a cousin or friend who has some small, obvious magical abnormality. While full transformation to a monster is often an execution-level offense, little quirks and mutations aren’t punished by the state.

Magic naturally pools in places that are usually uninhabited due to high (even for Europe) contamination levels. Too-quiet woodlands dancing with flecks of light, moors that always appear in a twilight—even when you KNOW it’s high noon—and mountain hearts that literally beat with a living pulse of lava. These places are safe-ish to enter, but like with radiation, a person’s arcane levels will slowly build the more they visit. A hunter who frequents enchanted glens may, in time, find herself sporting a pair of horns, thick bark scales, and/or a ridge of tiny human baby fingers down her spine. Gross? Oh yeah. Unmanageable? Certainly not. Plenty of people are fine with taking that risk.

Normal folks who turn into, say, dragons are a bigger rarity. Magic is influenced by mental and emotional cues, and attracted to both, kind of like a magnet. Users harness this intentionally under controlled conditions, inducing intense states of emotion to harness the tremendous ambient power of the environment. But the majority of a user’s education is not about harnessing magic—it’s about controlling yourself enough to dispel it afterwards, because if you don’t…boy, it gets nasty fast.

People who transform rapidly into monsters usually experience one to three months of an intense emotional state, obsession, or other unusually focused or volatile mindsets that makes them big ol’ beacons for all the ambient magic in the area. The hyper-accelerated contamination makes for bigger, more dangerous monsters (and a higher failure rate), as opposed to more slow-burn creatures (witches, glutton knights) that remain somewhat more humanoid. It’s possible to stop the process in the early stages.

An interesting social side effect of this is that Europe has an unbelievably high focus on mental healthcare. Almost every town or village has a government-sponsored mediwix (wix = govt. evaluated witch) who is required by law to have expertise as a psychiatrist and offer their services freely. A mediwix is equally as important as a knight, and teams are often paired together during their apprenticeship days with the anticipation of being later deployed to the same settlement.

They aren’t always in pairs, though. There are more mediwixes in cities and more knights in wilder outposts, generally–Augustine was alone in their town, which is part of why they went undiagnosed for so long.

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Vault 93

Built on the grounds of housing and protecting humans in the event of war, the vault held about 600 people to start with. Initially, the vaults purpose was to be a storage warehouse for a serum that would be used on US soldiers, to make them more durable and stronger, and able to infiltrate enemy forces. Before the plans for that could be acted on, the Great War had happened. Due to having the mutagen, the Overseer had decided that they would experiment on the vault dwellers in secret, perhaps raising their survivability in the event something broke the vault.

Select people were taken and injected with a serum containing a mutagen that would forcibly change their DNA to contain more animalistic features. The first batch of people were considered a failure, some growing vestigial limbs or tails, or even wings in some cases, as well as excessive hair/scale/feather growths. These were kept secret and killed, had they not died on their own shortly after. Over the years, scientists in the lowest level of the vault worked on perfecting the serum to be less harmful and less of a shock to those injected with it.

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