A more biological twist for some of the chapter 7 guys! Me being me, I love icky little guys, so here’s some iterations based on the hammerhead worm and medicinal leech respectively! (Fun fact: most images of blood-sucking leech mouths are actually lamprey mouths! This is probably because lamprey mouths are terrifying and I’ll leave it at that. Leeches have a triangular set of teeth that leaves a triangular mark when they bite.
(Sorry about the lack of image ids. I wrote them but Tumblr said haha no you didn’t and then they were erased. I’ll make them when I have the energy again!)
Extra:
Haha Biology Joke haha. Where am I.
Also I really like this Banban design I made but i kinda fucked up his shading so he’s a bonus now. Without the shading.
ID START ; a 13 striped flag colored pink, dark pink, grey, dark grey, black, red, a thicker stripe of dark red, red, black, dark grey, grey, dark pink, pink. in the center is a pink symbol of a bow, outlined in black. ; END ID
hirudibow !
a xenogender related to being a little leech with a pink bow on it.
hi + ri + di + bow
from "hirudinea", the scientific classification for leeches, and "bow"
What do you think of the T Rex nose leech that lives in the amazon? (Tyrannobdella)
I love it! It really gets up your nose...
Alright, for those who don't know what the jiminy cricket this thing is, they found a leech that lives in the mucous membranes of mammals, and because of its big teeth they gave it a T. rex adjacent name (Tyrannobdella rex)
The echoes of the tornado siren were still ringing in his ears or maybe it was in his brain. He'd woken up to being rolled down concrete stairs like a sack of potatoes someone couldn't be bothered with carrying anymore. The sounds of heavy metal scraping together, the sound of soft-soled footsteps. It seemed so far away. The world around him was all splotches of technicolor fog and too-bright lights. It felt like he was in jello spinning in a washing machine, sounds too dull, but too loud at the same time for his pounding head.
The toe of a pointed shoe dug painfully into his side before rolling him out of the way of the bottom step with a hard kick to his ribs that stole what little air he'd managed to gather in his lungs right out of them. His body was too heavy, up was down and what was his right was left as he was dragged across what felt like sandpaper. His cut ankle kept catching the grit on the floor, the sensation making him writhe as a worm would against the sharp shocks of pain.
He felt cold before he realized he was wet. He panicked, but couldn't even scream about it. The only thing that came out was a gargled croak. His saliva sent him into a coughing fit. How long had he been in the water?
Was he drowning?
No.
He could feel he was laying down, but what in? He couldn't tell. It was clear, at least partially, because he couldn't see any shadows on the floor. It was hard, he pressed his arms against the sides as best he could, but they didn't give. He could only lay there feeling his arms and legs being moved around with his arms squeezed shut tight to cope with sudden sharp pains along his chest that made breathing even more of a trial than the dull doldrums of the aftermath.
How long he lay there was a mystery to him, but it was enough time for whatever was making the world fogged to dissipate. His head was hanging painfully off back over the edge of whatever he was in when he heard it. A horrible grinding noise. Thunk thunk, grind grind, thunk, grind. Like someone milling flour or cornmeal. He dared open his eyes. Two beady little black eyes turned to meet his gaze. A hamster? A hamster in a ball. It was so small, so white. It hurt to look at it. It sat in it's clear plastic ball in a doorway. Behind it there was a hall then another room with what looked like stacks on stacks of old TVs all on different channels of what looked like CCTV, some flicking between channels on what seemed to be a timer, others with cameras scanning back and forth. In one, he could see his own kitchenette.
He tried to sit up, but he was bound back by what felt like a leather dog collar, he could only sit up so much. Enough to see that what he was in was some bizarre kind of aquarium with clear acrylic thick walls. Like it had been custom-made to hold someone in the most painful position with everything from the waist down submerged in water. His feet rested in soft sand and were chained apart at the bottom, he couldn't lift them an inch. Someone had sutured his sliced ankle, but it was a disgusting shade of blue-purple. He'd seen something like that before when Joe had snapped his tendon in a football game in high school, he could only assume the same had happened to him and he knew even if he got out of whatever the hell container he was in he'd not be able to run away.
He saw the tubes before he realized what they were or where they were. "Oh God-" They were in him. Embedded deep in him by what looked like ports. Some went to a dialysis machine, but it wasn't on. There was two machines on though, a silent heart monitor that showed his quickly escalating heart rate and some kind of oxygen monitor. He didn't dare call for help, what if whoever did this, or whatever had chased him, answered?
Where was he? The walls were dirt with what looked a little too much like claw marks. Was that a fingernail lodged in the mud? He had to look away, he didn't want to think about it. He couldn't think about it right now. The floor was unprofessionally poured concrete that was grainy and littered with hay in little trails like something from a barnyard had trotted through. The leather straps that bound his wrists were held in place through drilled holes in the tank itself had sharp writing on them proclaiming them to be the property of Arkham Asylum. Was he in an asylum? The medical equipment said yes. The metal tables pressed against the walls with what was apparently the Asylum's crest said yes. The files scattered on the floor, the tables themselves, and stacked in piles said yes, but he couldn't be. Wherever this was, was evil. It was inhumane. It couldn’t be a hospital, could it?
It was- familiar soft-soled footsteps interrupted his thoughts.
It was back. That thing with the orange eyes that had chased him in the parking lot. It came bearing a large jar with some kind of opaque greenish tincture in it, sealed with a cloth held taught by a ribbon of twine. It wasn't a creature at all. It was a man. A man with long black hair in a gas mask with orange lenses. That couldn't be right. No human being could have fit under the car or crawled out like it had or been able to twist their body like that.
They set the jar on one of the tables and unsealed it, but took the time to stop and look at him. They simply looked at one another. Nothing was said. What do you say? Ask why? People who do things like this don't have a why. Not to him. It was pointless to ask why. Why were they looking at him? Why did they hate him? He'd never hurt them. He'd never hurt anyone enough to deserve this. He hated them right back he decided and steeled himself to not break under the thumb of whoever this was and whatever petty grievance they had.
Until something moved in the jar.
His entire body went stiff. "No- no-no-" There was only one man who knew. How could this be happening? How could this be happening again? It had happened before and he'd thought it was a nightmare, but this made it all too true and real. "You motherfucker!" It was Crane. Jonathan Crane. The Scarecrow. He'd not been able to testify against him in court and had to be told what had been done to him. The useless psychologist that had been hired to help him stop crying whenever he saw scarecrows said something about it being repression, but that seemed like bullshit until the panic was rising up as bile in his throat.
The Scarecrow still said nothing. Just standing there watching him try and fail to thrash with a jar full of his worst nightmare wriggling beside him. Leeches. Great big fat leeches. Real ones this time and not whatever he'd been made to think were there before. "Just kill me!" He begged. "Kill me!" It turned to the jar and picked it up. "No! STOP!" He knew what that psycho was going to do before he did it and when the Scarecrow began slowly pouring the thick disgusting water on him like some kind of sick parody of Hyas. The leeches fell onto him with the most disgusting wet noises he had ever heard in his life. Feeling them moving on him sent him into hysterics. He couldn't even kick and scream, he forced his head back to not see even if it felt like his neck was breaking.
The hamster still sat in the doorway. It was the only thing he could seem to focus on. Those little black eyes felt like they acknowledged him or maybe he was going crazy. It felt like they saw him, knew him, and mocked him. ‘Look at me, freer than you’ll ever be.’ They said from inside the acrylic ball. The soft thunk thunk tha thunk of the hamster rolling away was the only thing he could hear over the sound of water and leeches slapping onto him, he had closed his eyes, but didn't know when. He couldn’t bear the sight of those beady little eyes anymore.
