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Jesus fuck Diana let the man LURK

THIS HAS ABSOLUTELY MADE MY FUCKING DAY

BRO WHY DOES HE LOOK LIKE HES ABOUT TO BURST INTO TEARS 😭😭😭

#its good for him

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Lol the panels of the is still my favorite and now with @thepandared from tiktok its even better

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DP x DC Prompt: The Watchlist

Batman has a watchlist. A list that contains every individual who could become a rouge and a contingency plan for if they did.  

And while they, his children, often make fun of his paranoia and him for having it, they totally understand why he did. They lived in Gotham, for Christ's sake. Where everyone’s just a pin drop away from being the city’s next big villain, forcing the bats to scratch their heads while playing cat and mouse with a sicko for a good few weeks. And while they won’t admit it, the list has helped them a few times. 

But that won’t stop them from making fun of any of the list’s new developments. Because you see, there was a new list. And it wasn’t just a watchlist. No, no, no. It was The Watchlist.

It was a new development after he and Robin went on an out-of-state mission to investigate some town in bum fuck nowhere Illinois. And it was under some pretty tight security as well, so they were expecting something good, like mad scientists or evil mayors. Not profiles of the kids who lived in the town. And while there were a few metas and vigilantes that made the list interesting, by the end of it all they just seemed to be teenagers. 

Until they saw Damian. They hadn’t seen him since he came back from the mission with B. He looked tired. Like ‘Tim hasn’t slept in a week and is surviving on just coffee beans’ tired.

“Ah, I see you all have found it. Good. A few of them will be arriving next week as they’re a part of Gotham Academy’s student exchange program. At least three of them will be staying in the manor with us. Father will need you all to be on standby and to be ready for any possible scenario. Please, for the love of all that is good, do not encourage them in any way, shape, or form. And please do not dismiss them either. The outcome of doing that will be much worse. Is there more that I should add? Yes. Will I? No, because you won’t understand. Not until you've seen what I have.” 

The demon child sighed, then looked them dead in the eyes. “Godspeed to us all.” Then walked away.

Okay, they were scared now.

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They’ll never do a Hitman level set in a Furry Convention because gamers would absolutely ruin it but imagine. like the target isn’t a furry he just owns a hotel that happens to have one every year but you can disguise yourself in a fursuit and some guy will ask you “what species is your sona” and 47 would be like “a wolf. i always felt a connection with…hunters.” and then diana would be like “let’s see if you can sniff out some information, furrty-seven” and then he comes to my house and kills me for writing this

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Wait what

Sorry what do you MEAN people are digging up dead people to make drugs out of their bones??? When did Repo the Genetic Opera become reality???

And why isn't it called Zydrate?? Is it because it doesn't come in a little glass vial?

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Dpxdc 180

Did Danny abuse the fact the GIW needed his parents tech. Yes of course. Danny not phantom seemed to be the trouble maker as of late. His parent threatened to withhold tech and blue prints from them if the GIW touched their kids.

Did he get caught breaking ember and boxy out of a government facility? yes. He expected the lecture he got.

The next jail break. It was not him. It was sam, Then the third. Also not him. That was Val… then it was Tucker. But not him.

The blame fell on him.

He did not expect to be shipped out of state. The GIW were happy to cover all costs. Even got him into a decent highschool. And had an apartment all arranged.

Gotham?

Not where he was expecting.

The assassination attempts. Also surprising.

Not so surprising. Tucker found out the GIW wanted to “silence” him. Offering a lot of money.

Of course his parents don’t listen. He is 15 perfectly fine to be all alone. Even if he is near some place with the nickname crime alley. Nope. He is just being dramatic. They tell him no one wants him dead.

#dpxdc

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It took 3 months and a lot of ibuprofen but I finally finished rebuilding my chicken run.

Before

After

#my art #i spent months on this its art

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Important

What’s the most amount of time you’re willing to spend in the shower? Note: “in the shower” refers to being in the water, not drying hair after shower or any other post water activities.

#if i had unlimited hot water i could stay there forever

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it's a fun hc of mine that during dick's robin days, he went through the "omg i wish i had a cool secret language so i can have secret conversations with my friends" phase all kids go through. but one of his closest friends at the time also happened to be the batman, a guy with possibly the most bizarrely diverse arsenal of skills in the world. bruce sees the merit in the entire idea of a coded language to communicate rudimentary information when they can hear but not see each other. so why not make a code built on bird vocalizations? it's pretty much incomprehensible to anyone without a trained ear or comprehensive knowledge of birding and impossible to even passably mimic without proper training, so while the chances of interception are high, the chances of someone understanding it enough to interrupt during the middle of a bird-convo and feed false information are not.

it also, batman and robin come to realize, feed into the "holy fuck our vigilantes are cryptids" idea. bird sounds that come from seemingly no determinable location (ventriloquism) come to mean batman and robin are nearby. to the goons of gotham, bird song becomes inextricably connected to getting your ass kicked by the dynamic duo. the real reason why criminals don't operate during the day is because they get skittish and jumpy about if the sounds of birds chirping are real birds or some masked vigilantes lying in wait to rock your shit, and it's just easier to commit crimes during the night when all the birds are asleep so you know for sure.

ornithologists have boards on their bedrooms dedicated to the bird-bats of gotham. they've written dissertations.

the bird language becomes a bit of a batfamily bonding connection. teaching each other how to do different clicks and whistles, making up slang so bruce and barbara can't complain of clogging up comms with non-mission relevant talk, searching up birds to associate them with different people, psychologically terrorizing the criminal populace of gotham by chirping at them...

how the bird code works is that there's a bird assigned to each one of gotham's major heavy hitter criminals and vigilantes, and a few assigned to heroes out of the city (by which i mean the ones the bats associate with often enough to have a sign to address by). the only birds i've got so far are the robin (for robin. self-explanatory) and the glistening-green tanager (for the joker). i only have one for the joker bc i wanted to reference this hc in one of my fics and so searched up green birds to find the most eye-searingly annoying-to-look-at green bird i could find, and the glistening-green tanager was the closest one to fit the bill.

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Mirrors Do Not Make Promises

The evil-queen-to-be looked into the magic mirror and asked: “Am I beautiful?”

The mirror had not been addressed in many years, hanging like an island in the center of the iron chamber. The curtain was gone though. The room smelled of dust. There was light somewhere, oh lords, there was light.

The mirror, a phantom outline on the surface, peered down. A girl stood, hooked nose, thin lips, dark hair the texture of crow’s feathers, and ruddy skin– both too pale and flushed all at once. Teeth like overlapping piano keys and body gangly as a newborn calf. She wore the finest gown of deep purple, heavy and dragging on the dirty floor.

Her chin wobbled. She had a determined set to her gaze, but her cheeks were tear-stained, and eyes as red as daybreak, at least the types of daybreak the mirror could still remember. The mirror tilted her head.

“Am I beautiful?!” the girl repeated and stomped her foot this time, pinpricks of tears spilling out. There was a purpling welt across her right cheek, a bruise forming with a tinted yellow edge. She must be an island as well.

The mirror closed her eyes. She nodded. “You will be. You have been. You are.”

The girl’s eyes went large as entire skies, at least, the type of skies the mirror could still remember. “Promise?” It was a child’s whisper.

“I do not make promises,” the mirror replied, and the girl huffed.

“Fine.” The curtain returned.

———————-

“Am I beautiful?”

The evil-queen-to-be was taller now, growing into herself. Her hollow cheeks had rounded, and teeth slowly straightened out through small spells and larger ones. The mirror had felt when she found that little black book, a moldy, stained thing, fleshy and dank. The mirror did not always spread her awareness out into the lives of men, but there was no ignoring the tremor through the air that night.

“Did you hear me?” The girl had returned, on the cusp of forgoing shorter hems and growing into the adult ones.

The mirror hummed. “You again. My girl.”

“You again, my mirror.” The girl sneered. She narrowed her eyes. “Do you even have a name?”

“No.” The mirror responded. “Do you?”

The girl rolled her eyes. “I suppose you do not hear them yelling it through the hallways, Esme! Esme! Foolish, tricky girl.”

“I do not hear them. No.”

The girl blinked several times. “Oh.”

“Esme.” The mirror tried out the name.

“You may call me Lady Esme.” She sniffed loudly and crossed her arms. “I’m nobility.”

“Of course, my lady.” The mirror inclined her head. “Ask your question then.”

The girl considered her for a long moment. “Am I beautiful?”

“Have you not asked before?”

The girl flushed a deep red and glared at her shoes. “You’re just like everyone else.” She twisted in place to leave.

“Of course,” the mirror murmured. “You are beautiful.”

Esme glanced shyly over her shoulder. “Really? You promise?”

“I do not make promises.”

The door slammed, but the curtain did not return.

——————–

“Mirror, mirror on the wall,” the young woman sang and skipped. “Who should I poison at the ball?” She carried a flower and small book tucked away at her side. The mirror had watched her fill the book with cramped tiny handwriting, coded through a complex numerology.

It was filled with the secrets of the tomes she unearthed and more she made herself. “Mirror, mirror on the wall,” she kept singing. “Who should I poison with my comb?”

“You jest.” The mirror spoke slowly. ��But if you must poison one, poison the only son of the Duke of Engles. He plans to bed a scullery maid and will not be easily deterred by no.”

The evil-queen-to-be stopped in place and faced the mirror. Her clever face and clever eyes were cold and sharp. She was older now. “Noted,” she said thoughtfully and plucked at the flower in her hand. She lifted her chin up high, “this will be my first showing.”

“I know.” The mirror replied. “You will dance and make merry. Be careful of the wine, my lady.”

“How do you know so much?” Esme squinted and leaned forward. “What exactly do you know?”

“I know everything reflected in the world of men and more.” The mirror said and watched the light fall across the floor. She still wasn’t facing the window, and how her chest ached for it.

“But how?” Esme insisted.

“I am old,” she stated simply.

Esme rolled her eyes. “Well, I could have guessed that.”

“But ageless. Time cannot touch me, nor can I touch it. But I can peer through its many threads into the greater tapestry.”

Esme tilted her head thoughtfully, mind at work. “So,” she said with a cat-like smirk. “I really will be beautiful.”

“You are. You have been. You will be.”

Esme went blank for a moment before turning in place. “I must prepare for my debut on the market.” She sprouted an edged grin and looked over her shoulder. “And who should I marry there, my mirror?”

The mirror did not blink. “The king.”

Esme’s eyes lost their mischief, she frowned, and closed the door softly.

—————

“They’ll burn me, they’ll burn me!” Esme cried and paced back and forth. She was still wearing a luscious green gown with bell-shaped sleeves. It was torn in places, sullied. “Dammit, they know!’

Keep reading

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Real quick, I just want to say that Danny Phantom only being seen during ghost fights is a little funny because imagine there being this ghost kid in your town defending everyone and himself from other ghosts who are almost always bigger than him, but as soon as he notices someone nearby or someone tries to talk to him, he vanishes and runs away. A lot of people think he had social anxiety or something when he was alive, or maybe he’s scared of humans because of ghost hunters, so most people don’t go looking for him.

One day a kid decides to leave a note at a park. The note was for Phantom, thanking him for saving a relative of the kid’s. To everyone’s surprise, Phantom leaves a reply for the next day. Here’s an example.

To Phantom,

Thank you so so so so so much for saving my dad today!!! I was so scared that he was going to get really really hurt, but you saved him!!! Mom and dad both say you don’t like talking to people because there are bad people who want to hurt you, so I’m leaving you this note! I hope you see it! Oh, and my mom and dad say thanks too!! I hope you have an amazing day and stay safe from the bad people!!

From Alex

To Alex,

Your very welcome! Honestly, I was scared your dad was going to get hurt too, but I’m glad to hear he’s doing well now. It’s true, there are bad people, but I’m happy that there are also good people who appreciate me trying to help. Thank you for not trying to find me and instead leaving the note. I appreciate it! Hope you have a great day too!

P.S. Would you mind keeping this letter between you and your parents please? Reading this really warmed my heart core, but I really don’t want to suddenly have a ton of notes all over the park. I might be so busy trying to reply, I probably won’t get any sleep. And yes, some ghosts do need sleep.

From Phantom

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Mr Chocolate Guy really is out there doing Things huh

Also, rendition of how to enjoy this piece:

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Just keep in mind you may turn orange.

Hey Siri what happens when you eat 10 pounds of carrots in two days

#i was orange once

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Unplanned Consequences (Part 5: Patton) [Sometimes Labels Shift Series-The End]

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Relationships: Patton/Logan

Characters: Patton, Logan, Virgil (mentioned), Roman (mentioned)

Summary: Sometimes... things change.

Notes: This takes place after Best Laid Plans

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

“Hey Lo,” Patton said as he walked into the living room. Virgil had officially moved into an apartment with Roman a few days ago as the spring semester was starting tomorrow. This left Patton and Logan living alone together in the house for the first time since… The Incident.

Patton had just finished cleaning up dinner after getting Logan settled on the couch. The TV was on, but Logan was currently staring past it into space, something he never used to do, but had become a frequent occurrence since getting injured. It worried Patton a bit, but he tried not to think about it.

Logan looked up at him as Patton said his name. He didn’t smile softly at Patton like he usually would have. It made something clog in Patton’s throat.

“Hello,” Logan said.

“I… made us both some tea,” Patton said, holding out the tea mugs as though for his approval.

“Thank you, love.” He still seemed distracted and distant. He turned back towards the television.

Patton nodded and then walked over to set the mugs on the coffee table. Then, he sat down on the couch next to Logan. Years of instinct told him to scootch over closer until their arms and legs intermingled, but he hesitated.

Logan either noticed his hesitation, or noticed his deviation from the norm, because he glanced over at Patton. He lifted the arm closest to Patton and Patton instantly took the invitation, moving closer to curl up under his arm.

Logan pressed a kiss to the top of his head.

It was silent between them for a long moment, only the sound of the television droning on breaking the quiet. The news was on, Patton noted. There was coverage on a supervillain attack Prince had stopped the night before.

“I think I need to retire,” Logan said out of the blue.

Patton drew back to look at him in surprise. “What?” he asked. “You’ve been given medical leave until next fall. You’ll be more than recovered enough to go back to teaching by then.”

Logan looked at him for a moment and then gave him a wry smile. “I wasn’t talking about teaching, my dear.”

“Oh,” Patton said blinking at him. “Oh.” He took a moment to process that statement. “But you… you want to retire?”

“I wouldn’t say want,” Logan said, “but I think it may be the most responsible course of action.”

“You… I know you’re struggling with the leg and everything right now, but you’ll get better.”

“Patton,” Logan said, “you’re a doctor.”

“Exactly!” Patton said, feeling oddly defensive for a reason he couldn’t place. “So, I know exactly how people heal from injuries like yours. You’ll need time, but with physical therapy and…”

Logan cut him off. “With physical therapy,” he said, “I will get much better. I will perhaps walk again, maybe even without a mobility aid eventually, but Patton, I’m 57-years-old. This severe of an injury is not going to heal quickly or completely.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I’m getting old,” Logan said. “I’ve been slowing down, and this will not help me speed up. Being Bluebird is physically… and mentally demanding. I won’t be able fully meet those demands again after what happened.”

“That’s not true,” Patton said even though he wasn’t sure of that himself.

“It is,” said Logan. “It’s always something that would happen eventually. This has just… sped up the process.”

“You’re catastrophizing,” Patton said. It was probably an ironic statement to make when Patton’s words sounded so much more upset than his husband’s. “You’re making a rash decision because you feel bad now, but…”

“This isn’t rash,” Logan said, evenly. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot in the last months.”

Patton didn’t know what to say to that.

“Besides,” he said, nodding at the TV. The news had cycled around again while they talked, back to Prince, back to Roman. “I’m not the city’s only long-term hero anymore. Roman had been doing well before and is doing even better now. I will continue to help him on his journey, and it won’t be an immediate transition. Bluebird will still make a few appearances, but I do think it’s time. For my own sake and ultimately for this city’s too.”

Patton hesitated. Logan was right, of course, that this was inevitable. It’s just that Patton had never really thought about it. He didn’t want to think about it, especially now when Logan was still so hurt in multiple ways. He’d been telling himself that eventually things would go back to normal, but Logan had just confirmed Patton’s greatest fear: they wouldn’t.

It felt selfish to be upset, but Patton really couldn’t help it. Patton felt himself gripping onto Logan’s sleeve for support even though support was Patton’s job right now. He felt tears in his eyes, but he resisted letting them fall.

“Are you okay?” Logan asked.

“I…” Patton said. A couple of the tears escaped. “It’s just… I’ve never known a Logan that wasn’t also Bluebird.”

Logan sighed softly. He gently removed Patton’s grasping hand from his shirt sleeve to hold it in his own. “Things change,” he said, doing that thing where he stared into the distance again, “labels shift.”

A/N:

And that my friends, is the end of Sometimes Labels Shift.

It's been a long time coming and I'm feeling a bit emotional even though it's not the end of the Labeled Universe. We're just moving on to the next chapter.

All of our favorite Labeled characters will return in the new sub-series named Envisage. I hope to see you there.

#others writing #sanders sides #hahdjfn es qbr SNOW