#Jazz got a J for a reason

[faeriekit]

The Foster Mother

Now on ao3 and VHS release

There was, supposedly, someone waiting for him in the green sitting room.

“…Why?” Tim asked. Most of the usual suspects had already come by to give their “condolences”—former Drakes Industries investors, curious about the newly orphaned heir; fellow socialites, once again flocking in to give and receive sympathies for their “close friends, the Drakes”; gawkers come to see what they could scavenge off of a dead family’s home, never mind that their child was alive.

“She claims to know you, Master Tim,” Alfred offered, kettle in his hand. He spent a moment deciding between different two canisters of tea; a sign of possibly difficult future conversation. “Her interest in your father's estate seemed quite…minimal.”

…Alright.

Tim was still in his formalwear. Dissolving Drake Industries would take at least another year, and plenty of future hours cementing the future home of certain resources in their dissolution, but the outfit probably was more appropriate for whatever oncoming conversation that was about to ensue than his planned change into Dick’s old hoodie and board shorts.

Okay. Tim steeled himself. The self-determination…mostly worked. Whatever. He trudged up into the green sitting room from the kitchen with his usual introduction ready on his tongue.

And then Tim walked into the room.

And then Jazzy was there.

*

Tim had been three, and Miss Jasmine had been his had been his third nanny. He’d outgrown the wetnurse early on, and his second nanny had been dismissed, so although Miss Jasmine was the third nanny, she was first nanny Tim could consciously remember.

She’d had red hair. She’d been very gentle with him.

She got him up in the morning and put him to bed at night; for the first time, there had been someone who sat with him until he was asleep, reading all sorts of books his parents had left to engage him with as an early genius. Then, when those were over and done as promised to his parents, they got unauthorized books from the library: silly books with made-up words, dinosaur books, books about teddy bears and adventures around the world.

Tim hadn’t been allowed to travel the world. Tim hadn’t been allowed a teddy bear. His parents had thought it would encourage undue attachment.

(It had been the same reason he’d never been given a pacifier.)

Miss Jazz had given him a knitted bunny. She’d said her dad had made it especially for him.

The toy’s name was Bunny and Tim remembered him being very soft.

She didn’t smile all the time, but smiles were rewards that were easy to earn. He finished his meal and she smiled. He finished an educational puzzle and she smiled. He was quiet all through her phone call and she smiled, and answered all his questions once she was done.

Jazzy had been the first person in his life who was there all the time. She’d kissed his forehead after the bath and kissed his scraped knees; she’d carried him in his arms when he was tired and sometimes even when he wasn’t. His parents had wanted him to be independent, proactive, and not clingy, but Jazzy had been someone who he could run to from his bed when he’d had nightmares and someone he could cuddle on her lap with when he’d cried.

She was gone when he was seven. He didn’t remember why. His parents had probably never told him, but still; he'd assumed he'd have found out why eventually.

Jazzy looked the same right now as she looked in Tim’s memories, although she was likely no longer a college student at a nannying gig. Her red hair was pulled into a high bun, her dress modest and conservative from her neck to her ankles. There was a backpack beside her foot. She was sitting, one leg crossed over the other, on the high-backed loveseat in the green sitting room.

She looked up when he came in.

Tim. Stopped in his tracks.

It didn’t matter. Jazzy—Miss Jasmine stood up as soon as she saw him, eyes alight with worry. Foggy memories were swimming to the forefront of Tim’s brain. He couldn’t move.

“Tim?” Ja—Miss Jasmine asked, teal eyes raking over his frame. Tim froze where he was. He didn’t move, wide-eyed and terrified for no reason at all when Miss Jasmine got closer to him, at a distance that was more appropriate for a conversation.

She stood there. Watching him. It felt like his mother had just come home from her trips with Dad, and a ghost of old terror wafted through him as he waited for her to decide he’d done something wrong. Her voice got softer. Her eyes got softer. Why was Tim feeling so wrong-footed?? It was only a former staff person!

“Tim?” her voice was so gentle. “I don’t know if you remember me. I’m—“

“M’s Jazz,” Tim croaked. Which. Wasn’t the level of formality he’d been going for, but better than Jazzy. He wasn’t a toddler anymore.

Miss Jasmine was so tall—honestly, was she taller than Bruce? She’d seemed insurmountable as a child; he hadn’t expected her height to truly be so statuesque as an adult.

(Or. Well. Almost an adult.)

She didn’t quite kneel down, but she did stoop lower, as if Tim was small and he needed to be on equal footing in order to have a serious conversation.

He could see all her freckles. Tim swallowed. It was too familiar. Everything about her was too familiar.

“You’re so big now,” Jazzy whispered, looking at his hair, his suit, his polished shoes. He didn’t feel it. “Oh, you’ve grown up so well.”

Thanks, Tim almost said. Something stopped him—something thick in his throat, to impassable to break through.

“I—“ he tried. He coughed. “Why…you… You’re here?”

Jazzy threw him an incredulous look, and then an incredibly wry one. “Well,” she drawled a little too primly, in the way that Alfred occasionally made obvious statements, “I’d think it obvious that when one’s parents have passed away, that those who care about you might come to check and see if you’re alright.”

Which. That didn’t make sense. Jazzy hadn’t come back for any other reason; she hadn’t come back for his mother’s funeral, nor when his father was injured publicly by a villain. Why start now?

“And,” Jazz added, seeing his visual confusion and distrust, “Your parents can’t exactly threaten me with a kidnapping charge for visiting you when they’re dead.” Pause. “Which I am sorry about. My condolences.”

Which. Whiplash. What a statement.

“Uh,” said Tim, who was rapidly losing control over the situation.

Jazzy stood again, and went back to her seat; she didn’t set herself down, though, as she only stooped to grab her backpack. “I am sorry for being unable to visit, although I really wanted to; you were at a very vulnerable age and had already moved into a class a year above you, and your parents should have been less hasty about replacing your main caretaker. The assassination attempts were unwarranted, but they did drive the point home that attempting contact was perhaps discouraged.”

“What,” said Tim. “Assassin what.”

“They were ninjas,” Jazzy offered, as if that was an answer. “Except the last one, which was a former marine. The point is that I do care about you, and wanted to ask if you had any idea where you’re going now that your parents are no longer…available guardians.”

Tim’s mouth opened. It closed.

Jazzy waited patiently.

“…How have you been?” Tim tried, resorting to a part of the script they hadn’t gone through yet.

Jazzy’s laugh was tired, but no less real. It was nothing like listening to his parents titter politely; he didn’t think Jazzy would even know how to fake a laugh. “Well, my brother told me that my former bosses had died, which was somewhat stressful. Otherwise, I’m pretty happy: I live with my brother and worked with him for the last few years. I was going to pursue medicine, but…well. The assassination attempts made it hard to interview for scholarships. I suppose that I could return to that now,” Jazzy mused, attention now elsewhere. She pulled the backpack off the floor and up into her grip. She opened it, and flipped through its contents. “How are you doing? I know that Wayne Manor fosters, but your parents were always rather…hands off. I thought the difference in levels of attention might be overwhelming.”

It was. Tim should be surprised how clearly she sees through him—

—But Jazzy used to watch him stim for almost a full hour after school, twisting Bunny’s arms back and forth until he could calm down. Seeing other people all day had been too much for him. Coming home from his parents’ parties had been similarly stressful.

She’d never been mad at him for it. She held him while he talked and stimmed and talked and talked and talked, and brushed his hair sometimes, or if it was very late and he was very young, helped him brush his teeth through all the medieval execution facts he could name.

“It is a lot to get used to,” Tim agreed quietly. He didn’t want to be ungrateful. He didn’t want to let on anyone about his plan to leave.

He had an out. The papers had already been filed; there was an actor waiting to play his uncle for a custody battle, ready for the fight.

Tim was ready to up and go. It was no hardship to leave all the good things here; anything beat making Bruce stick his fingers into Tim any deeper than they already were, compromising the dynamic they’d already established.

It was for the best.

“I can imagine,” Jazzy sympathized easily. “And I wanted to offer—well. I know there’s probably a lot of choices available to you, but my brother and I recently moved back to Gotham proper for the time being. He’s teaching astronomy courses at the university and I’m filing paperwork for Arkham patients. It’s not so privileged a home, but it’s quieter, and more central in town.”

…Tim’s heart skipped.

He. He couldn’t stop staring. Jazzy stared back at him, quiet and sure. Sure of what, Tim had no idea, but…

Why? Why would she want Tim? There was no way she would be able to get to his trust fund without his help, and he for sure knew better than to enable her ability to leech from him. The last time she’d known him, Tim had been a snot-nosed kid who cried all the time and couldn’t be normal for twenty consecutive minutes. His parents couldn’t even stand to be on the same hemisphere as him as a child. What appeal did this have for her?? What could having a teenager with severe baggage living in her house do for her?

And it’s not like there was any chance she knew he was Robin!

“Oh,” Jazzy suddenly interrupted. “I brought these for you, by the way. Your parents had tossed them out at various points; I’ve washed them since, of course.”

She handed him the backpack by the handle.

…Tim peeked inside.

On top was Bunny, still a washed-out faded sort of pink. He looked as fresh as he had the day when Tim’s parents had ”cleaned out” Tim’s nursery—in other words, a faded, a little gray, and slightly discolored from an old spaghetti stain. His button eyes were big and blue.

And beneath him were books that hadn’t passed his father’s muster as appropriately masculine reading material: The Velveteen Rabbit, with the cover a little scarred from a fierce attack of wet wipes. There’s A Monster at the End of This Book, with a goofy-looking Muppet on the cover, gold spine beat up beyond belief. Art Tim’s teacher at the time must have laminated and sent home; Tim’s dorky, crayon cat proved he would never make it as an artist, but attached to it was a photograph of a grinning boy with a bowl cut and a missing tooth.

Tim stared. There’d been purple marker on his hands and face. His grin looked…really bad, actually, like as if he was baring his teeth because he didn’t know how to smile. There was no formal grace there. Nothing to show the neighbors, nothing worth framing to put into the line of sight of the investors in the office.

Jazzy had kept it and brought it home with her. Jazzy had fished it out of the trash, and brought it with her to give back to him in Gotham.

It was crinkled like it’d been folded, over and over again. Further down in the bag was a crumpled certificate dedicated to “Timmy Drake, for: knowing a lot about octopi”, and a baby blanket Tim didn’t even remember. It had rocket ships on it. It looked as if someone had cut into it with scissors, although it had been obviously and brightly mended with red embroidery floss later on.

Jazzy had only been his nanny until Tim was seven. She had simply been gone one night, and Mom and Dad had been home for ten nights after without help before giving in and hiring Mrs. McIlvane and Mrs. Edith. Ms. Edith had never been so…permissive…with Tim as Jazzy had been.

Tim swallowed. He carefully put everything back into the backpack, unsure if he even wanted to keep it or not. It wasn’t like he could leave it here; he’d be gone, ideally, before the week was out. There was no point in taking it with him if he only planned to live with a stranger until he was eighteen.

“J…” Tim tried. He cut himself off before he could get too informal without prompting. “Miss Jasmine—“

“Just Jazz,” Jazzy corrected politely.

“—Why are you here?” Tim asked, ignoring how she’d technically already answered. He didn’t believe her. “What made my parents fire you?”

Jazzy’s expression turned…soft. Tim couldn’t look at her. Something horrible was welling with it, and he didn’t know how to cope.

“I’m here because I care about you,” Jazz repeated, and knelt beside him. She looked up into his face, and took his hand. Tim didn’t know why. He was practically an adult—he didn’t need this!

“And I was fired because your Mother overheard you calling me ‘Mommy’ on accident when you were tired. I suppose she was insulted, although I’d never know why; it’s not like she was ever home to bond with you in the first place.”

Tim’s throat closed. He missed his mom. He missed waiting up for his parents’ flight home, seeing their headlights outside the window, and knowing they’d bring home gifts from overseas. He missed using Mom’s perfume, and knowing he’d used more of the bottle sitting on her dressed than she ever had, but that it still smelled like her. He missed hearing his Dad telling all sorts of adventure stories and promises through the phone to be home for the holidays, even if Tim knew there was every chance he’d find some other way to spend the time back in Gotham.

And there was some small child in him who missed Jazzy, who hugged him and walked him to the library and made him soup from a can instead of fancy dinners and, who’d never needed to be waited for in the first place.

Tim looked at Jazzy’s round, freckled face.

He swallowed.

Tim moved out before the end of the week, as expected.

#dp x dc #Jazz fenton #tim drake #that one time Tim specifically hired a fake uncle so that Bruce couldn't adopt him #free to a good home #Jack Fenton knits btw #I'm not going to continue this but i thought it was a cool premise and needed its time. Have fun with it if you want to! #this is dedicated to all the fulltime nannies at the library who are fully just college girls raising babies #dpxdc #dcxdp #Jazz said is anyone going to raise this baby and was targeted by ninjas for it #I don't have any future plans BUT there is a moment where Dick tries to sneak into her apt to 'check it out' and she fully Gets Him with a #TBI and a Fenton CreepStickTM #also. parents who try to shape their kids by denying them every form of human comfort and access to their interests. You're dead to me #also also also I'm still a Tim Drake Autistic truther #not NOT inspired by the Say Uncle by Megarakles. This one's for you fellow fans #also. if he goes with her. He gets parented for the first time ever and it Sucks Ass lol. #faer fic

[disillusioneddanny]

This was inspired by this post. This will also be turned into a multi chapter fic on my ao3. You can subscribe here

But enjoy <3

Tw: talks of vivisection and abuse

Harley Quinn stumbled through the streets of Amity Park, newborn baby clutched to her chest as she furiously checked over her shoulder to make sure no one was following her. She had done it, she had finally gotten away from Mr. J for good just six months before. If he came lookin’ for her, she would be able to handle him on her own, especially with the help of Ives. But Danny wouldn’t be able to do jack shit against his crazed sperm donor. So, Harley was doin’ what she thought would be best. She was going to ask her step-brother and see if he and his wife could take him.

If anyone would be able to protect her baby it would be Jack Fenton, her step-brother was a hulking giant of a man and while his aim may have been shit, his wife’s wasn’t. The two were scientists, ghost hunters if Harley remembered right and they would be just crazy enough to think Mr. J was a ghost if he showed his slimy face around Amity Park.

“Don’t worry Danny, they’ll keep you safe, I promise. You’re never gonna have to worry about a crazy father tryin’ to kill you or use you for his own gain, I won’t ever let that happen,” Harley said quietly before pressing a soft kiss on her son’s head and knocked on the door of Fenton Works.

His father was trying to kill him. Danny allowed his sister to drag him out of Fenton Works and to her car, head spinning, lungs burning for oxygen. Telling his parents about his ghost form had gone bad, it had gone so, so, so bad and now Jazz and Danny were running for their lives as Jack Fenton shot another ectoblast at the siblings.

“Jazz, where’re we going to go? What are we going to do? You destroyed the portal,” Danny gasped out once Jazz had shoved him into the backseat of her beat up, gray, ‘78 Volkswagen Beetle. He scrambled in just as Maddie shot in the spot he had just been occupying, his sister grunted as she took the shot. While she was liminal, she still had enough human in her that it was nothing more than feeling like she got an instant sunburn.

Jazz slammed the door shut, ignoring the shouts from the Fentons behind her as she got around to the driver’s seat and sped off, tires spinning against the pavement.

“We’re going to Aunt Harley’s,” Jazz said determinedly.

“My mother?” Danny squawked from the backseat. “Didn’t Da-Jack say she was crazy?”

“Jack’s crazy Danny! He had you strapped to a table-” Jazz stopped herself as a guttural growl escaped her lips. “Whatever. Aunt Harley will be the best option. If anyone can keep us away from the Fentons it’ll be her.”

Danny slumped down in the backseat and finally looked down at the giant cut on his chest and let out a groan. His mother. Jack and Maddie had never hesitated to tell Danny where he had come from. Jack in particular boasted about how his poor, abused sister trusted him of all people to raise her baby and keep him safe from harm.

Joke’s on him apparently considering he was the very person who had managed to hurt Danny the most. Danny wasn’t stupid, though, he had heard about Harley Quinn. The psychiatrist turned villain who was now in her own way a hero but remained the self titled Queen of Chaos. He knew that his mother was dangerous, each time she had come to visit with her pasty white, tattoo covered skin, chemically bleached hair, and slightly crazed look in her eyes, Danny knew. He knew that the reason Dan was a reality was because of his genes, because of where he came from.

He had done everything he could to make sure he wouldn’t turn out like his mother. And if his suspicions were correct, he would do everything to make sure he didn’t turn out anything like his sperm donor. There was a reason Danny hated clowns and it wasn’t just because of Freakshow.

“Do you think she’s going to be happy seeing us at her house, though? Or Aunt Ivy? She’ll probably be annoyed that we dropped in unannounced,” Danny said before reaching down and grabbing the metal box that held his first aid kit. He used his powers to thread a needle with fishing wire and bit his lip hard as he forced the needle through his skin and started to sew up where his parents had started the vivisection. It would most likely scar but Danny didn’t want to think about that right now. Danny didn’t want to think about anything right now except for the fact that they were going to his mother’s house of all places.

“Danny, your mom adores you. She didn’t drop you off at the Fenton’s to abandon you. She did it to protect you. Aunt Harley knew that she wasn’t capable of raising a baby and she did the most responsible thing she could think of. But she loves you, she’s loved you from the moment you were born,” Jazz told him, glancing in her rearview mirror to watch her baby brother sew himself up as she sped down the highway.

“And how do you know that?” Danny asked, a hiss escaped from between his clenched teeth as he got to the worst part of the cut and continued with his sewing.

“Because I was there the night she brought you home. And I see it in her eyes when she comes to visit us. She loves you Danny, she was just in a bad situation,” Jazz reasoned, knuckles white on the steering wheel as she sped onto the onramp to start their journey from Amity Park, Illinois to Gotham City, New Jersey.

“And she’s just going to be happy to have her sixteen year old son randomly appear in her front door? She couldn’t take care of me then, what makes you so sure she can help us now?” Danny spat out as he finally finished his stitching and tied off the thread. He reached into the kit once more and grabbed a few of the antiseptic wipes that had been packed in and cleaned the ectoplasm-blood mixture off of his chest as best as he could before taping gauze to his chest. It wasn’t the best patch job and Frostbite would probably be horrified if he saw it, but it was the best Danny could do with a tiny first aid kit in the back of his sister's rickety car as she went well over a hundred miles per hour in a seventy.

“I think so, yeah,” Jazz admitted after a few minutes of silence. Danny let out a huff of a laugh as he struggled to sit up. “There’s a shirt in this bag,” she said, tossing him the backpack that sat in the passenger seat, the go bag for if the worst had ever come to fruition. Which it definitely had.

Danny dug through the bag and found the tried and true NASA shirt folded carefully within the bag and let out a sigh through nose as he carefully maneuvered around to get the shirt on without angering the stitches on his chest too much. Even if his mother wasn’t happy to see them or able to take care of them, she’d be able to help. She was a better option than any other.

Vlad was completely out of the picture. Dani was ancients only knew where and she wouldn’t have been able to do much anyway. Sam and Tuck still didn’t even know what had happened and Danny hadn’t decided how he was going to deal with that. Aunt Alicia would most likely call mom-Maddie if she saw them on her doorstep.

Aunt Harley was their only option now that the portal was destroyed and Danny certainly did not have the strength he would need to open a portal. Plus, Gotham had plenty of ambient ectoplasm according to Tuck’s research.

When they had first made this plan, Tucker had looked into any place that came close to having the same amounts of ectoplasm as Amity Park and Gotham had been number one on the list. So at least Danny had that going for him.

“I’m going to try to get a little bit of rest, getting cut open drains a guy,” Danny said with a chuckle, pressing the backpack into the car seat and carefully laid back down. “When I wake up, we can switch and I can drive for a bit. You need rest too.”

Jazz simply hummed in response and said nothing more as her little brother settled into the backseat and allowed sleep to take over.

“I told you I could have helped drive here,” Danny muttered as Jazz pulled into a shady looking, nondescript building.

“Danny, you had to sew yourself back up in my backseat. You needed the rest far more than I did, besides, no use in complaining, we’re here now,” Jazz said, glancing back at the tired, pouty look on her brother’s face and smiled. “Aren’t you excited to see your mom and Aunt Pam?”

“Is she technically my stepmom?” Danny asked once Jazz put the car in park and shut off the engine. She got out and went around to Danny’s door and helped her baby brother out of the car.

“Technically?” Jazz said, crinkling her nose as she thought it out. Yeah, that would make the most sense anyway. “Are you okay?” She asked as Danny winced, pressing a hand to his chest as he climbed out of the small car and leaned heavily against Jazz’s side.

“Yeah, just hurting,” he murmured and shook his head as if that would get rid of the pain. “Let’s just go.”

Jazz gave her brother a concerned look but locked her car nonetheless and started to help the boy up the stairs before she rung the doorbell.

The two tensed as they listened to footsteps stomp their way.

“Look, I’m Jewish, I ain’t interested in that Jehovah’s Witness shit,” they heard Harley shout before the door swung open.

Harley’s jaw fell open as she froze in place at the scene in front of her. The two teenagers were quite the sight. Harley had never seen the usually put together Jasmine look so frazzled as long as she had known her niece. Her son was in even worse states, if the eyebags on his face, the strange blood and green stains on his shirt, and panting told her anything.

He looked up at her tiredly, the dark circles under his eyes even darker than she had initially noticed. “Hey mom,” he said with a huff, hanging from Jasmine’s shoulders.

“Aw fuck, come in, come in,” Harley said wearily, ushering the two into the building. “Ives! I need your help!”

Harley carefully moved her niece out of the way before she quickly lifted her son into her arms and started down the hallway. “It’s okay Danny, Mama’s gotcha,” she murmured, cradling the sixteen year old boy to her chest as she carried him bridal style. Jazz followed her aunt as they made it to the living room just as Ivy came out of the bedroom looking confused.

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise, though, as she spotted the three before her. “Shit, I’ll get the salves,” she stated before her eyes landed on Jazz. “Come help me?”

Jazz looked between her aunt and her brother before looking back at Ivy and gulped, nodding her head once before following the eco-terrorist back into the bedroom.

“Oh sweetie,” Harley murmured, carefully setting Danny on the beat up couch. “Baby what happened to you?”

“Jack and Maddie happened,” he said with a hiss as his mother raised his shirt and took in the cuts that had been sloppily stitched up.

Harley’s eyes flicked between the incision that seeped red-green liquid and Danny’s pained face. “Jacky boy did this to you?”

Danny nodded, letting out a whimper. “It’s a long story,” he said as his mom traced a finger over the cuts, the pieces connecting in her brain.

Harley Quinn was a lot of things but she was not stupid. She may not have gotten the chance to visit her son as often as she wanted but the last time she had seen him she had noticed something was different about him. She had been around Ivy long enough to know when someone had gained powers that they barely had control over. She had noticed the way her son’s eyes would flash a startling green whenever his emotions got out of hand. Noticed the way he was colder than before and how his shoulders looked as though they carried the entire world on them.

She didn’t know what had happened to her son or what it had done to him, but she knew he was more than human now. She had seen that plenty of times before. And it looks like the Fentons had discovered this and decided that Danny was one of their new experiments.

“You’re dead, aren’t you?” She asked bluntly, recognizing the toxic ectoplasm that seemed from between her son’s stitches. “Not all the way but somethin’ happened and they didn’t like it.”

“Yeah. I uh, I was fourteen, didn’t kill me all the way, just enough for me to be considered a ghost and you know how mom-Maddie and Jack are about ghosts,” Danny said just as Ivy and Jazz came back with towels, wet rags, and salves to cover the incisions.

Harley raised her eyes from Danny’s wounds and looked her son in the eyes. “I’m gonna kill ‘em,” she snarled, snatching a wet rag from Ivy and started to better clean the wound. “I’m gonna murder them and then when they turn into ghosts I’ll give ‘em a taste of their own medicine,” she said, hands gentle as she cleaned around the wound.

“You’re going to need to redo those stitches,” Ivy said softly, sitting beside Danny’s head and taking it in her lap as she ran her fingers through the black locks, trying to distract her wife’s son from the stinging pain he was likely feeling.

“There’s no point, the wound will be closed by tomorrow,” Jazz said quietly and handed a warm, dry towel to Harley after she had finished cleaning the incisions and carefully patted the skin dry. She then took the salve and carefully coated it over her son’s chest.

“Don’t kill them,” Danny said quietly, taking his mother’s hand in his and squeezed the pale hand in his. “Just, mom, just protect me. Please?” He asked, voice cracking slightly.

Harley let out a sigh and squeezed her son’s hand tight. “Baby, I’ll always protect you,” she promised, still feeling her chest burn in anger at the fact that her step-brother, the one person on this earth she had trusted to take care of her son had caused him this much pain. Jack and Maddie Fenton would rue the day they hurt Harley Quinn’s baby.

#dp x dc #DPXDC #dc x dp #dp x dc crossover #dc x dp fanfiction #dc x dp prompt

[mostlysignssomeportents]

The art of Daniel Danger

[Image ID: Daniel Danger's art print, 'To all who home to this happy place,' depicting a ruined Disneyland castle in a post-apocalyptic landscape with a statue of Walt and Mickey in the rubble.]

There’s this behavioral economics study that completely changed the way i thought about art, teaching, and critique: it’s a 1993 study called “Introspecting about Reasons can Reduce Post-Choice Satisfaction” by Timothy D Wilson, Douglas J Lisle, Jonathan Schooler, Sara Hodges, Kristen Klaaren and Suzanne LaFleur:

https://www.researchgate.net/publication/240281868_Introspecting_about_Reasons_can_Reduce_Post-Choice_Satisfaction

The experimenters asked subjects to preference-rank some art posters; half the posters were cute cartoony posters, and the other half were fine art posters. One group of subjects assigned a simple numeric rank to the posters, and the other had to rank them and explain their ranking. Once they were done, they got to keep their posters.

There was a stark difference in the two groups’ preferences: the group that had to explain their choices picked the cartoony images, while the group that basically got to point at their favorite and say, “Ooh, I like that!” chose the fine art posters.

Then, months later, the experimenters followed up and asked the subjects what they’d done with the poster they got to take home. The ones who’d had to explain their choices and had brought home cartoony images had thrown those posters away. The ones who didn’t have to explain what they liked about their choice, who’d chosen fine art, had hung them up at home and kept them there.

The implication is that it’s hard to explain what makes art good, and the better art is, the harder it is to put your finger on what makes it so good. More: the obvious, easy-to-articulate virtues of art are the less important virtues. Art’s virtues are easy to spot and hard to explain.

The reason this stuck with me is that I learned to be a writer through writing workshops where we would go around in a circle and explain what we liked and didn’t like about someone’s story, and suggest ways to make it better. I started as a teenager in workshops organized by Judith Merril in Toronto, then through my high-school workshop (which Judy had actually founded a decade-plus earlier through a writer in the schools grant), and then at the Clarion workshop in 1992. I went on to teach many of these workshops: Clarion, Clarion West and Viable Paradise.

So I’ve spent a lot of time trying to explain what was and wasn’t good about other peoples’ art (and my own!), and how to make it better. There’s a kind of checklist to help with this: when a story is falling short in some way, writers roll out these “rules” for what makes for good and bad prose. There are a bunch of these rulesets (think of Strunk & White’s Elements of Style), including some genre-specific ones like the Turkey City Lexicon:

https://www.sfwa.org/2009/06/18/turkey-city-lexicon-a-primer-for-sf-workshops/

A few years ago, I was teaching on the Writing Excuses cruise and a student said something like, “Hey, I know all these rules for writing good stories, but I keep reading these stories I really like and they break the rules. When can I break the rules?”

There’s a stock answer a writing teacher is supposed to give here: “Well, first you have to master the rules, then you can break them. You can’t improvise a jazz solo without first learning your scales.”

But in that moment, I thought back to the study with the posters and I had a revelation. These weren’t “rules” at all — they were just things that are hard and therefore easy to screw up. No one really knows why a story isn’t working, but they absolutely know when it doesn’t, and so, like the experimental subject called upon to explain their preferences, they reach for simple answers: “there’s too much exposition,” or “you don’t foreshadow the ending enough.”

There are lots of amazing stories that are full of exposition (readers of mine will not be shocked to learn I hold this view). There are lots of twist endings that are incredible — and not despite coming out of left field, but because of it.

The thing is, if you can’t say what’s wrong, but you know something is wrong, it’s perfectly reasonable to say, “Well, why don’t you try to replace or polish the things that are hardest to do right. Whatever it is that isn’t working here, chances are it’s the thing that’s hardest to make work”:

https://locusmag.com/2020/05/cory-doctorow-rules-for-writers/

But if I could change one thing about how we talk about writing and its “rules,” it would be to draw this distinction, characterizing certain literary feats as easier to screw up than others, having the humility to admit that we just don’t know what’s wrong with a story, and then helping the writer create probabilistically ranked lists of the things they could tinker with to try and improve their execution.

Which is all a very, very long-winded way to explain why I bought a giant, gorgeous art-print at Comic-Con this weekend, even though I have nowhere to hang it and had sworn I would absolutely not buy any art at the con.

I was walking the floor, peeking into booths, when I happened on Daniel Danger’s booth (#5034, if you’re at the con today), and I was just fuckin’ poleaxed by his work.

http://www.tinymediaempire.com/

[Image ID: Daniel Danger’s ‘It stopped being about the panic,’ depicting a ruined mansion interwoven with the skeletal branches of a tree, with a weeping statue and two human figures]

Now, see above. I can’t tell you why I loved this work so much (and that’s OK!), but boy oh boy did it speak to me. I just kind of stood there with my mouth open, slowly moving from print to print, admiring works like “It stopped being about the panic.”

https://tinymediaempire.myshopify.com/products/2022-sdcc-it-stopped-being-about-the-panic-v4

[Image ID: Daniel Danger’s ‘headlight in the path of,’ depicting a ruined mall with a pair of stags standing at the top of the escalator.]

On the surface, this is moody, post-apocalyptic stuff, heavily influenced by classic monster/haunter tropes, but it’s shot through with hope and renewal and the sense of something beautiful growing out of the ashes of something that has toppled. There’s real “(Nothing But) Flowers” energy in “Headlight in the path of”:

https://tinymediaempire.myshopify.com/products/sdcc2023-headlight-in-the-path-of-v2

[Image ID: Daniel Danger’s ‘We are no longer able to protect you,’ depicting a ruined factory with a coming-apart sign reading ‘We can no longer protect you forever,’ and a statue of a sword-bearing angel.]

Danger isn’t just a

very

talented artist, he’s also an

extremely

talented craftsman. As a recovering pre-press geek, I was (nearly) as impressed by the wild use of spot color and foils as I was by the art, like in “We are no longer able to protect you”:

https://tinymediaempire.myshopify.com/products/sdcc-2022-we-can-no-longer-protect-you-forever-v3

[Image  ID: Daniel Danger’s ‘made of smoke and chains,’ depicting a ruined landscape with a pair of derelict subway trains at the foot of a hill on whose peak is a rotting mansion. A pair of human figures, holding hands, are approaching the mansion.]

Danger himself calls this work “weird sad hyper-detailed artwork of dreamy buildings of ghosts and trees,” which is a very apt description of this work, as you can see in “Made of smoke and chains”:

https://tinymediaempire.myshopify.com/products/made-of-smoke-and-chains-mist-preorder

So I looked at this stuff and sternly reminded myself that there was no way I was going to buy any art at the con. Then I walked away. I got about two aisles over when I realized I had to go back and ask permission to take some pictures so I could put a little link to Danger in my blog’s linkdump, which he graciously permitted:

https://www.flickr.com/search/?sort=interestingness-desc&safe_search=1&tags=danieldanger&min_taken_date=1687478400&max_taken_date=1690156799&view_all=1

[Image ID: Daniel Danger’s art print, ‘To all who home to this happy place,’ depicting a ruined Disneyland castle in a post-apocalyptic landscape with a statue of Walt and Mickey in the rubble.]

But then I got all the way ass over to the other ass end of the convention center and I realized I had to go back and buy one of these prints. Which I did, “To all who come to this happy place,” because fuckin’ wow:

https://tinymediaempire.myshopify.com/products/sdcc2023-this-happy-place-v6-foil

This was unequivocally the best thing I saw at this year’s SDCC, but I also got some very good news while there, namely, that Emil Ferris’s long, long-awaited My Favorite Thing Is Monsters Vol 2 is finally on the schedule from Fantagraphics:

https://www.fantagraphics.com/collections/emil-ferris/products/my-favorite-thing-is-monsters-book-two

It’s coming out in April, which gives you plenty of time to read volume one, which I called, “a haunting diary of a young girl as a dazzling graphic novel”:

https://memex.craphound.com/2017/06/20/my-favorite-thing-is-monsters-a-haunting-diary-of-a-young-girl-as-a-dazzling-graphic-novel/

If you are or were a monster kid or a haunter, this is your goddamned must-read of the summer. It’s a fully queered, stunning memoir for anyone whose erotic imagination intersected with Famous Monsters of Filmland.

(Also, if you’re that kind of person and you’re in the region, you should know about Midsummer Scream, a giant haunter show in Long Beach; I’ll be there on Sunday, July 30, for a panel about the Ghost Post, the legendary Haunted Mansion puzzle-boxes I helped make:

https://midsummerscream.org/

Now Favorite Thing book two was the best news, but the best experience was watching Felicia Day get her Inkpot Award and give a moving speech:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Inkpot_Award

And then learning that Raina Telgemeier also got an Inkpot; I love Raina’s work so much:

https://memex.craphound.com/2016/10/04/ghosts-raina-telgemeiers-upbeat-tale-of-death-assimilation-and-cystic-fibrosis/

[Image ID: A photo of me with Chuck Tingle, who wears a pink bag over his head on which he has written ‘Love is Real.’]

To cap yesterday off, I also ran into @ChuckTingle, which is as fine a capstone to a successful con as anyone could ask for:

https://www.flickr.com/photos/doctorow/53065500076/in/dateposted/

If you’d like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here’s a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/23/but-i-know-what-i-like/#daniel-danger

#pluralistic #writing #haunters #dancing about architecture #spooky #daniel danger #behavioral economics #introspecting #talking about art #gift guide #timothy wilson #tiny media empire #san diego comic-con #posters #sdcc #monster kids #art #raina telgemeier #felicia day #emil ferris #my favorite thing is monsters #inkpot award

[artemismoorea03]

DPxDC Writing Prompt Idea

I have no idea if this has been done before but I just had this idea so if it has been done feel free to ignore this but I gotta share this.

So, I always see these prompts of different characters being related to different DC characters. For example I've seen some where people say that Tucker is related to Lucius Fox. Dash is related to Harley Quinn. Jack being related to Bruce Wayne. Danny related to Tim/Damian/Dick or any of the other Batfam but one I haven't seen before is one that I feel could be easily used.

Maddie Fenton is related to Jim Gordon.

Now, I've never seen this or even heard people talking about it and I can kind of understand why. Maddie is shown to have a sister but like - hear me out anyways.

Maddie has a cousin, she has met him a couple of times as a kid and only once as an adult when Danny was around 7. There wasn't any real reason for it, just a Family Reunion and an excuse to spend time as a family, something she often forgot to do when she was so determined to get the Ghost Portal open.

Her cousin is Jim and his daughter is a good ten years older than Danny. She had heard that Jim was quickly rising in rank in Gotham City and that his daughter - despite the occasional odd truancy issues - had her head on straight. Jazz also adored the older girl and followed her around the entire reunion, looking almost like Barbara's little sister.

Danny got closer to Jim than his daughter though, and started talking about things that he probably shouldn't have. After all, what 7 year old has a filter? What 7 year old knows not to mention the fact that sometimes their food attacks them or that Jazz is learning how to cook because sometimes mom and dad forget to feed them because their research is important. The more Danny talks the more concerned Jim gets, but he's also conflicted.

This is his cousin, the same cousin who the time Danny fell and scraped his knee peppered kisses on each and every one of his freckles on his face and danced with him until the pain stopped and then patched him up and danced with him again. This is family. He's sure that Danny is just... making things sound bigger than they are, as children do - at least he hopes that's the case.

But on the off chance that there is something going on he slips Jazz and Danny both his number and gives his cousin the same number in case anything came up.

As the years go on though Jim starts to see more red flags. Small things at first - Jazz asking how to change the batteries in a fire alarm. Danny calling to ask if pot-lids could be stuck in the microwave to cover rice. Basic questions that could be asked to a parent or a parent should be doing for their kids anyways. But whenever Jim asked about this the answer was the same.

"Mom and Dad are busy in the lab."

This continued for years until a call from Jazz one night seven years after he'd met them for the first time. She was crying and sobbing, her voice shaking as she tries to get the words out.

"Danny had an accident. Mom and dad aren't home, what do I do?"

Jim was 900 miles away, he had no way to get to them. No way to get him to them. So he did what he could and instructed her to hang up with him and call for an ambulance. Jazz was scared though, she didn't trust the doctors but thankfully Danny's voice could be heard.

The relief Jazz had when her brother woke up was enough to make Jim feel like he was going to throw up. The call ended shortly after that but he made sure to call a few days later and ask his cousin how Danny was doing.

"Danny? He's just fine!"

"That's good. He healed from the accident then?"

"What accident- oh, Jack no, that goes to the right - your other right. Jim, sorry I have to go. We can talk about this later, okay?"

Jim was appalled. Jazz had called him in tears, hyperventilating and Danny had been unconscious - Jazz though he was dead - and their parents didn't have any idea?

It was a little over a year later that he got another call. Just as frantic, just as scared, but much worse.

Danny was all but screaming in the back ground, voices were telling him to holds still and that they knew it hurt but he was bleeding out and he needed to hold still. Terrified, hurt, betrayed voices. Jazz again explained the situation, this time eerily calm.

"I can't go into details over the phone but we're coming to Gotham City to seek Asylum against a law that will get Danny killed. We need you to keep Batman off of our tails until Danny is healed. We'll handle everything from there."

"Healed? Healed from what?" Why did these calls always happen during work. "Jazz, what is happening? You have to give me something if I'm going to protect you guys."

"... My parents cut Danny open, Jim. They cut him open and he's hurt bad. Myself, Danny, and two of our friends are on our way to you now." Jim felt like his jaw hit the floor then snapped back up so hard it gave him whiplash as he sank back in his chair. "Before you ask; no. Hospitals aren't an option. Danny isn't a meta and they weren't violating any laws when they cut him open. Which is why we need you to keep Batman away from us for as long as possible. What... what Danny is shouldn't exist and if anybody gets a hold of him they'll cut him back open, turn him into a super weapon, or destroy him."

"Then why call me. I'm a police commissioner. What makes you sure you can trust me?"

"I'm not. Neither are the others with us but the only thing Danny has said since we saved him is 'Go to Jim'. We're following his lead on this. So... I'm trusting Danny, who has his full trust in you, Jim. Don't let him down."

#dp x dc prompt #not part of any series #random prompt ideas #Danny Phantom Prompt #Batman Crossover Prompt #my prompts #dc x dp prompt

[athanasius-symposium-of-writings]

NSFT Alphabet: Joseph Desaulnier

I have no idea what im doing lol

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

So ideal you prob are expecting him to run you a bath, wipe you down, cuddle all that jazz but tbh he needs a second to recover. Would cuddle if you are a cuddly type but are content lying beside you just listening to your voice. He does like to touch you after with his nail tracing your skin or kissing a spot he might have bitten too hard during the moment. I do believe this man would have after-sex snacks ready lol food and wine guy. The bath happens later 

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His favorite part of his body I think would be his hair idk he seems like the time to take extra care for it. On you, I think your face if you are an expressive person or your hands. 

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He likes cumming on your face. If you let him he will paint you with his cum and take a picture of it uwu

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He likes giving those he likes pet names (‘gray little mouse’ for Aesop). He rather likes it when someone fights back rather than just accept their fate-- this goes in the bedroom too. He likes the tussle before you give in. Would let you peg him if you are into that

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

A lot. Trust me this man in no way is a virgin, no way and with both genders

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

You riding him 

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous? etc.)

He is serious but might smile but he takes this very seriously

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Uh-hm I don't think his a hair guy based on his once skin, I doubt he has much hair down there

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? The romantic aspect)

He can be romantic depending on the mood and 

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

I don't think he does this unless he is already in a relationship

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Petplay, degradation, mutual masturbation, 'human furniture', titles used in the bedroom, brat taming

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

In his bedroom he is not all that into public stuff but something you inspire him in matches (more like he bullies you for being bold)

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

You being a brat

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs)

He will not sub he just wont (until i find a plot reason for him to sub lol)

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Too good, evil good, life-changing even 

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Slow and sensual or fast and rough it all depends on the mood and place

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He hates quickies at first until you tease him enough then you getting it

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He can if you present it to him

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

The man literally can cheat using camera world to make you cum faster without having to do much work lol but also he is a swordsmen i think he can last fairly long

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

You need to show him what a vibrator is (but be ready to suffer)

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

100% unfair

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Depends he can be loud or quiet (plot reasons)

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Pull his hair before he cums 

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Perfection 

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

I think he does not have a high sex drive as he got older, but if you have a high sex drive I'm sure he can match it

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterward)

I think it depends on how long you two have been going at it. He tends to stay awake to watch you sleep, the calm after the storm feelings. Here you are vulnerable with the person who is technically your enemy in these games, peaceful and covered with his marks.

#idv #anon ask #reader insert #joseph desaulnier x reader #joseph desaulnier #joesph desaulnier x you #idv photographer #photographer x reader #photographer x you #identity v photographer #idv x you #idv x reader #idv joseph x reader #idv joseph #identity v x reader #identity v #identity v x you #identity v joseph

[clockwayswrites]

OKAY, so I have been rereading some of your stuff, as anyone with a wonderful taste does /j. And I got to the One Stop Soup Shop? I hope that titles right lmao; anyway. So rereading that, and I got to the part where Jason and Danny are talking right after Jason wakes up, right? And I managed to overlook it for the first few rereads but the conversation where Danny is explaining what he used to be and what Jason is now makes me think of a couple different theories on what Danny could be now? Because he's almost, or he is implying, he isn't a Halfa anymore.

So, Fascinating. And I have a couple theories on that? So; here they are,

My first thought was Danny is the ghost version of a liminal. Like the opposite of a liminal. Ghost with human traits, instead of a Human with ghostly traits.

My second one was that whoever had him/captured him basically forced him, either permanently or until something can be done ie with Frostbite the yeti doctor or some other means, into his Ghost form, unable to turn back into human/living form.

My third was that, on the basis that a halfas core is connected to their heart, they tore Danny's heart out from the core, Either by the Fentons misguided attempts at believing Phantom was hiding in their now dead-from-the-portal-opening boys body, so taking his heart out to both kill Phantom, seeing him as some kind of parasite now, and allow Danny to be laid to rest, or the GIW got him, saw it, was wishing to experiment on it, did so, and when Danny was escaping, he tried grabbing it, and the pieces wouldn't rejoin, having been apart for a little too long, leaving Danny as this Halfa Husk, almost but not quite. A Core with a human body but missing the most vital piece of being alive, a heart. So he's essentially stranded to be a ghost, unable to turn human without dying slowly, and painfully. Again.

.... As you can see, I am so normal about OSSS. Clearly. Lmao, anyway, yeah I have gone slightly insane but it is so good, it's worth it, honestly. I think i have said enough to last a thousand years about OSSS. But I will leave with the fact that I am so excited to go reread, and spin in my head with OSSS, LBFD and BWAO. Hope you've been taking care of yourself, all the writing and head thinking you've been doing, okay? Great writers must be kept happy or something like that

I had to sit down and reread the first fic of this just to make sure I was thinking right LOL which was enjoyable, so thank you for that. It's always nice to have a reason to reread my own work, even if it's at the cost of your sanity I suppose? ^_^;

Like most of my fics, I have the scaffolding but not necessarily the details. Bobi esp was written more on vibes than on a plan. That said, your third one is closest.

Spoilers, I guess lol

But Jazz talks Danny into revealing Phantom to their parents, who go the route of being convinced that Danny is dead and his corpse is just being puppeted by Phantom. And in their experimentation he tips from being balanced to being more dead. The details I don't know, though your idea of heart is chilling! Basically Danny has a 'living' form that breaths and bleeds and is solid, but it's only that way because he started as a halfa. Unlike before when he had to transform to use some of this powers, he's always basically more ghost than not and so can turn off any of that. And he's still alive in his unique way.

JLD would have a fit meeting him lol.

#askme answeryou #darlingclementines #one stop soup shop #dp x dc #dead on main

[half-deadmagicperson]

Phic Phight '24 Fic 1

Title: Like a Glow Stick

Words: 1252

Warnings: Injury, Panic Attack

Rating: T

Prompt 1 by @46-reasonable-hamsters : Danny breaks a bone in ghost form for the first time, and discovers that his bones function similarly to glow sticks.

Prompt 2 by @underforeversgrace : Jack Fenton finds out.

Summary: Danny breaks his arm in battle. Jack was not expecting what he saw in his son's room.

AO3

 

  Danny landed on the ground with an ungodly crunch. Pain flourished in his arm, which was crushed by the weight of the rest of him. He was in the middle of a brawl with Skulker and was thrown too quickly to break the fall correctly. Danny groaned. He’ll have to deal with his arm later, for now, he has a hunter to soup.

  Skulker drew closer to his prey. When Danny went to prop himself up, a sharp pain overwhelmed his forearm. Oh yeah, that’s definitely broken. The ghost boy opted to use his powers to float him off the ground. After he met Skulker in the air, the fight progressed until Danny finally wore Skulker down enough to use the Fenton Thermos. The hunter disappeared into the container with a bright blue light, and Danny was proud of himself for defeating the ghost single-handedly (haha get it, cause his arm is broken). 

  After the battle was over, Danny flew invisibly into his bedroom window. Landing on his bed, he immediately started tugging off his glove. He decided it was best to stay in ghost form since most of his injuries healed faster that way. Crouching down, he used his good arm to grab his medkit that Sam had bought for him. He hasn’t broken a bone since he fell off the monkey bars in kindergarten, so he’s not exactly sure if he can treat it properly.

  He placed the medkit on his bed. Gently, he started peeling off his glove. Danny looked down and noticed a faint glowing from the section of exposed skin. He arched his brow. Taking off the rest of his glove he saw glowing outlines of his bones. He rolled up his sleeve to see that the glowing grew fainter the further away it was from the break. In his painful and distracted state, Danny did not register the jiggle of his door knob, until a slight crack of light from the hallway appeared in his room, followed by his father’s face.

~~~~~~~~~

   Jack Fenton was sitting in the living room with his wife. It was a little past dinner. Jazz and Danny were both doing homework in their rooms while he and Maddie watched TV. After a while, Jack felt his bladder calling for relief. He begrudgingly got off the couch and began his hike upstairs.

  On his way towards the bathroom, Jack heard a rustling from Danny’s room. The large man paused at the door and wondered if he should check on his boy. Having grown up in a loud home with little care for privacy, understanding alone time and giving people space was harder for Jack. When Danny first started spending more time in his room, Maddie had told him that when most teenagers get to this age they require a bit of space. Jazz did too, but Danny even more so. 

  Jack heard a soft ‘shit’ followed by a loud seething sound. Maybe he should check on his boy. The man jiggled the doorknob to announce his presence. With the lack of protest, he popped his head into Danny’s room.

  Phantom, GIW Enemy Number 1, was sitting on his son’s bed with pieces of a medkit laid out across Danny’s comforter. The ghost appeared to be too distracted by what it was doing to notice him. Jack’s gung ho attitude was squashed by his curiosity as he watched the ghost examine its arm. One of the bones, Jack thinks it's called the ulna (Maddie was more the biology person), glowed a bright green through the ghost’s skin, aside from a crack in the middle of it. The other forearm bone gave off a faint glow as well. Did Phantom break its arm?

 Jack accidentally bumped the door, causing the ghost’s head to whip around. Bright green eyes were wide with fear. The normally snarky, bold ghost was silent and looked on the verge of panicking. For a brief second, Jack started to question everything he ever knew about ghosts. Then he realized that this one had just been caught in his son’s room. The man’s expression soured as he spoke.

  “What are you doing here? And where is my son?” The ghost scrambled towards the head of the bed, medical supplies falling onto the floor.

  “I’m sorry! He wasn’t in here when I got here I swear! I was borrowing his medkit! Please don’t kill me!” The ghost began to plead rapidly, panic rising in its voice. Jack clearly caught the ghost off guard. Amidst his confusion, he barely processed Phantom’s hasty escape through Danny’s exterior wall.

  “Hey, wait, get back here, Spooks!”

  “Dad?” a voice called out from behind him. Jack turned around to see his son standing in the doorway.

  “What are you doing in my room?” Jack shook himself out of his thoughts.

  “There was a sneaky specter in your room. Don’t worry I chased it out.” Danny’s eyes rolled.

  “Yeah, sure, Dad. I’m gonna go back to doing homework.”

  Jack watched as his son awkwardly walked into his room and picked up the supplies on his floor. Why did Danny have such an extensive medkit anyways? Oddly, his son was only using one hand to grab everything while his other arm stayed at his side. Whenever Danny needed to reach under his bed, he lowered himself using the hand he was grabbing with. Jack noticed him position his other arm and his subtle winces. Man, he should shut up more often. Jack’s brows knit with concern.

  “Are you okay, son?” Danny’s head whipped towards the door. His face flashed with a similar panic that was eerily similar to the ghost from before.

  “Oh, yeah I’m fine! I, uh, didn’t realize you were still here,” Danny stammered. Jack knelt down next to his son. The raw fear returned to his face. Why was his son afraid of him?

  “Danny, let me see your arm.”

  “No! I mean, I promise it’s fine! It’s…it’s…” Jack gently moved Danny’s arm to look at it. His forearm was bruised with dark purple and swollen. Danny barely concealed his flinch as Jack cautiously moved to get a closer look.

  “Danno, I think this is broken. We should take you to the doctor.”

  “NO!” Danny flung away from his father before falling flat on the floor with a yelp of pain. Jack quickly went to help his son, but met the sting of a force field. A bright green bubble surrounded Jack’s terrified son. 

  “Danny?” Jack cursed under his breath. There must be a ghost in here, but looking around Jack didn’t see anything strange. He didn’t even feel the characteristic temperature drop. It was just him and Danny in the room. Jack pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.

 “Son, I’m not sure what is going on, but I want to help you.” Danny shook like a leaf and fought down a sob.

 “Danny, I promise I won't hurt you. I just want to understand what is going on. I'm worried about you,” Jack sighed before looking at the floor, “I know I'm not the greatest at listening, or picking up on social cues, but you're my son, and I care about you more than whatever this is.”

  Danny's breathing started to slow back down. The green dome fizzled out, and Jack hugged his son.

  “Dad, I have something to tell you.”

  

~~~~~~~~

  That was the day that Jack Fenton, boisterous ghost hunter extraordinaire, learned about the adventures of his son, the half-ghost hero, Danny Phantom.

#phic phight 2024 #phicphight #team human #danny phantom #dp #danny fenton #jack fenton #tw injury #tw panic attack #tw panicking

[hazbinhazbinhazbinreblog]

Okay Radio Guard Charlie deep dive written by a tired, about to pass out college student, wooo.

So this is probs gonna be long so fair warning.

To start off, Charlie, canonically in Radio Guard, barely remembers her mom (yes I am going down the super angsty route since I like to torment myself and it adds extra angst drama flare). As a trade off, Charlie has a better relationship with Lucifer so compared to other Charlies probably.

That said, it did take awhile for Lucifer to come back into the picture, so for a good while, Alastor was her sole caretaker. Like mentioned in a previous ask/lore dump, Alastor was there for a lot of core memories. And because of that, Alastor did influence a lot. Besides the stuff I mentioned before, Charlie grew up learning to play the piano. She also grew up listening to Alastor's radio show, a lot (due to a headcanon that, by Lucifer's permission or not, a study was transformed into Alastor's own personal radio studio in the castle so he could keep an eye on Charlie easier). Because of the radio show, she grew up hearing stories of Alastor's past and what he did, although she only got the full picture when she got older and Alastor felt comfortable sharing the full stories with her (graphic details and all, only if she said she could stomach them). One of the many fond memories Charlie has is falling asleep in Alastor's arms while he was doing a radio show when she was still young and waking up briefly, barely half awake, to hear Alastor speak without his radio filter and how calming and kind it sounded (she also remembers how tired he sounded but how warm his smile was. And while she knows Alastor will deny it, she vaguely remembers Alastor kissing the top of her head like how a father would with his child when she was drifting back to sleep).

Charlie personality wise is pretty much the same. She is still bubbly and happy, but not as naive as her canon self. I think, again with Alastor influence (with some of Lucifer's influence too), I think Charlie knows there are some sinners out there who just, cannot be redeemed to save their lives. It was a hard lesson for her but it was a lesson she needed to learn. I also think in a weird way, Alastor's weird sense of justice probably rubbed off onto Charlie. She doesn't agree with his methods (i.e brutally killing, torturing, and broadcasting a sinner's screams on his show), but like she gets why he does the things he does too. But even then, she still asks him to go easy on people and try to be open-minded (fun fact: the ONLY reason Alastor didn't snap Radio Guard!Vox like a twig in a blind rage when they reunited was because of Charlie asking Alastor to not hurt him and to give him a chance. That is mainly because Charlie was very in the dark about Alastor and Vox's relationship prior, but even if she knew, she would still ask Alastor to give Vox a chance since Vox didn't seem so bad).

Other stuff to note and add to! Like mentioned in a previous ask/lore dump, Charlie knows old songs. The three she remembers the most is: Daisy Bell, The Teddy Bear’s Picnic and Tiptoe Through the Tulips. Daisy Bell is kind of more angsty reason (i.e, it's a song she always heard Alastor sing but never got why he sang it until one day in the hotel she overheard Vox singing a few of the lyrics to himself). She has a record player where she plays a lot of old music or jazz. She does actually have a radio, it's a small little portable one, that is more of a 1940s model then 20s or 30s (she saw it in the window of a store one day and begged Alastor to get it for her when they were going on a walk). For a good bit of time, growing up, she spoke solely in 1920s to 1930s slang. Alastor found it funny, Husk did not. They begged her stop though when she kept demanding giggle juice, as giggle juice is booze and she thought it was just juice that made you happy. (Alastor voice: It does but you are like 9, so, you cant have it. /j).

As for clothing style, if you remember her pilot outfit, the one with the suspenders and that is black and white. Yeah that is just her canon outfit now. She wears a lot of suspenders and more masc 1920s clothing. Alastor helped her pick out the clothes when she asked if she could wear clothes similar to his era and he was happy to help (and he will deny he cried tears of joy, no rosie, you have no photo evidence of that, what do you mean?). She even has a cute little news boy cap to match her outfit! I also think Radio Guard Charlie's hair is either shorter or always in a updo, like a messy bun!

(and smacking this near the end, while writing this, i took a small break and got notified of the fic with radio guard alastor and just, chef's kiss, I love it. 10 out of 10 fanfic anon!)

-⚔️ anon

LORE LORE LORE

Alastor's comment on the "giggle juice" had me laughing for several minutes ngl. I love love love the outfit you've come up with for her too

#ask #radioguard au #⚔️ anon

[lustheavens]

NSFW Alphabet - J

A/N: Hello everyone! Long time no see 🙈 Here's a new part of the NSFW Alphabet! For some reason the inspiration hit me out of the blue and this is the result. Hope you enjoy! 🥰

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Angelo

Tommy tends to prefer alone-time when he's angry. Although it's not unusual for him to end up in situations which makes him angry, he doesn't like to act upon that feeling. He's all too familiar with what happens if you let your anger take control and he prefers to stay as far away from it as he possibly can. That being said a way to deal with it is through self-satisfaction - a lot of it - and by setting the mood with music, alcohol and tobacco to calm the nerves. After pouring himself a whiskey he puts on some of his favourite tunes on the gramophone. Taking two sips of whiskey before putting the cigar in his mouth, he slowly feel himself sinking back into his armchair. With a deep exhale through the nose he closes his eyes, trying to embrace the sensual jazz tunes playing in the background. As his mind gradually becomes calmer he senses the familiar feeling of his groin pressing against his pants, desperately wanting out. With the cigar in his mouth he breathes in while undoing his pants, pulling his aching shaft out. He instantly wraps his hand around it and starts moving it up and down, his head dropping back against the headrest while exhaling the tobacco smoke followed by a deep groan. The events which got him so angry in the first place are still lingering which replaces the initial slow but steady pace with a more rough, fast one. Although he's not usually the vocal type the groans keep coming and become more and more hoarse as he keeps pleasuring himself. His free hand grabs onto the armrest tightly as he bites down on his bottom lip slightly. He watches his own hand with an intense gaze for a moment, his eyebrows furrowed deeply. His abs give off a small twitch as the pleasure intensifies. A few more pumps and a small wave of the orgasm washes over him causing his head to once again fall back against the headrest, a deep moan slipping past his parted lips. Seconds later the full-on orgasm hits him making him grit his teeth and tighten his grip around his shaft as he rides out his anger-fueled orgasm, not stopping until his muscles are numb and he's completely out of breath.

Lombardo

The hormones in this man is no joke. It would be a litte bit exagerated to say that anything turns him on, but it's really not far off. Being a major philogyny it wouldn't take much for Paulie to get the arousing thoughts and desires going. Arriving home after a wild night out filled with dancing, flirting and drinking is more than enough to set the mood. As his back hits the mattress with a thud he lets out a content sigh, his hands already reaching down to undo the button of his pants as well as pull the zipper down. His boxers instantly follows as he swiftly get rid of his pants, his button up shirt and tie still on but looking messy. With his eyes closed and his head resting against his soft pillow, his hand grabs his shaft firmly before rhythmically starting to move up and down with short but steady strokes. A moan filled with anticipation slips past his lips before his breathing syncs with the pace he keeps on his shaft. The events of the night keeps replaying in his head almost making him a little bit dizzy. The strokes start to pick up the pace, all while making sure to stop at the tip for a moment to squeeze just a tiny bit more before going back to the rhythmic pace he kept before. As the dizziness start to come back his other hand reaches down to his balls, gently starting to massage them, a throaty and deep moan emersing from his lips. His eyes slightly roll back for a moment as the orgasm starts to build up. Knowing how much he loves it when a woman pulls on his hair during sex he stops massaging and brings his hand up to grip onto the base of his hair, sending chills down his spine. The sensation of the hair-pulling and pumping of his shaft combined quickly drives him over the edge, the orgasm completely taking over his senses. Along with an intense orgasm comes multiple moans and groans that last until he collapses completely, ever muscle in his body weak but his mind incredibly satisfied.

Trapani

Stress is a major trigger for Sam when it comes to masturbation. Considering his high position within the family it's safe to say that he's not exactly a stranger to the feeling of being overwhelmed. It usually happens in the shower where he's completely disconnected from the world around him. As the steamy water trickles down his skin he lifts one arm up and presses the palm of his hand against the shower wall, his head lowering forward slowly until his eyes are looking directly at his feet. The brisk jets of water almost feel like a massage against his tense shoulders och back causing a heavy sigh of relief to leave his now slightly parted lips. The other hand moves to his groin, gripping onto his shaft before slowly starting to move up and down, forwards and backwards. His head instantly falls back instead and in that same moment his eyes closes shut. His hand starts moving faster and his breath quickly becomes heavier with every stroke - a faint moan followed by a low groan echoing between the walls. The hand that is pressing against the wall soon becomes a fist on which Sam finds himself leaning his forehead against for support. As his legs start to tremble and that oh so familiar feeling starts spreading through his body he lets out another groan while at the same time the pumping motion becomes all the more vigorous. His breath picks up the pace and his knees bend slightly in an attempt to stabilize himself as the orgasm continues to build up. For a moment his breath becomes uneven and only seconds later he gives in to the feeling of euphoria, slamming his fist against the wall and squeezing his eyes shut as he cums. A long, breathy groan escapes his lips before the feeling of calmness and satisfaction finally takes over both mind and body.

#mafia definitive edition #tommy angelo #tommy x reader #paulie lombardo #paulie x reader #sam trapani #sam x reader

[beesonhoneytoast]

FruBa Music Tastes Headcanons

a/n: been wanting to do this kind of post again for awhile now, and i finally got the inspiration to do it! enjoy! :3

🍙Tohru Honda🍙

A lot of lofi/instrumental stuff. Usually for when she’s cleaning or doing some chores around the house. Otherwise it’s Taylor Swift (don’t look at me! The Kyoru edits made me do it)

🐈Kyo Sohma🐈

To be honest I think he listens to whatever Tohru likes (god he’s hopelessly in love with her it’s pathetic)

🐀Yuki Sohma🐀

I honestly don’t know what Yuki would listen to, he’d probably have a little bit of everything?

👘Akito Sohma👘

Probably traditional Biwa music, idk. Akito is a tricky one.

🐕Shigure Sohma🐕

Like Kyo to Tohru, I feel like Shigure would listen to whatever Akito would like.

🐇Momiji Sohma🐇

Now from my chat with my Momiji bot on c.ai, it mentioned it liked Hozier. And I can see it to be honest. Hozier makes a lot of R&B and blues, and I can honestly see Momiji vibing with that. 

🐉Hatori Sohma🐉

Jazz. I don’t make the rules (but I do) mans likes his jazz cos he’s a very sophisticated guy. 

🐄Hatsuharu Sohma🐄

Metal. No elaboration will be made

❤️‍🩹Arisa Uotani❤️‍🩹

It’s a tie between either girl in red or Conan Gray. Perhaps both. Both is good.

🖤Saki Hanajima🖤

She listens to Phantom of the Opera on loop like me. No elaboration. Moving on. 

🐍Ayame Sohma🐍

Todrick Hall and any other queer musician that has walked the earth.

🐗Kagura Sohma🐗

Definitely listens to Vocaloid. Oh and those cutesy songs you find on playlists for relaxing. She scours the internet for every last song on them.

🐒Ritsu Sohma🐒

MY BABYYYYYY AGHHHHH

Now for those who haven’t read My Girl (which you definitely should), I stated that Ritsu is a girl in red fan. She also likes Taylor Swift, Halsey, and AURORA, though. Also Madonna and ABBA, Blondie, maybe Joan Jett when she’s feeling daring.

Def would apologize for her music taste if you don’t like it like no bby it’s okay 🥺🥺🥺

🐅Kisa Sohma🐅

Baby Shark /j

🐏Hiro Sohma🐏

Would sing Baby Shark with Kisa cos he loves her 🥹

🐎Rin/Isuzu Sohma🐎

Marina and the Diamonds, and also Mitski. 

🐓Kureno Sohma🐓

I feel like he listens to Michael Bublé. No reason why, he just does and that’s on my headcanon.

#fruits basket #fruits basket 2019 #tohru honda #kyo sohma #yuki sohma #shigure sohma #hatsuharu sohma #rin sohma #isuzu sohma #ritsu sohma #hiro sohma #kisa sohma #hatori sohma #arisa uotani #saki hanajima #kureno sohma #akito sohma #fruits basket headcanons #anime headcanons #music headcanons #my babies

[tanglepelt]

Run Ghost Run 3

Ao3 link Prev Next

Mild descriptions of wounds ahead.

Leaving the lab was too easy. Nothing went wrong, no weapons, no ghost shields, no alarms and not a single lab coat in sight. The main thought Danny had was that it had to be a trap. There was something happening here. He never could be to paranoid. Regardless trap or not it was his best and only chance. He continued forward, leaving the government complex behind him.

Looking ahead he saw that the sun hadn’t set. In just a few hours it would be night. Taking cover in night would work in his favor. Danny could see Amitys town line in the distance. The base had been their normal one. He knew where he was and just how to get home without being caught in the cameras.

His ghost sense had not activated. None of his rouges or allies had come looking for him or were out and about. Hopefully no one important had an inkling of what occurred. Everything minus his personal physical and mental health were great. He could work with this; just never let anyone know. It was just a matter of not getting caught. No going to the infinite realm, hiding from the GIW and avoiding his parents. A normal Saturday prior to the whole Pariah incident. Avoidance was natural to him.

There were only three people who would take immediate notice of his disappearance. Three people who would help. Danny had to get to Sam, Tucker, or Jazz. Any of them would know what to do. Tucker could hack the government again Sam would go all activist on them, and Jazz would actually take charges and adult. They all had go bags ready to take off. The four of them… no that wouldn’t be a good idea. Getting them involved more would be counterproductive.

The GIW and his parents would be gunning for him, not his friends. Jack and Maddie had no reason to go after Jazz. Those in the realm would search for him not them. In the end it all leads back to him.

It may not be his best call, yet it would keep them all safe. He could just leave them notes. Explain why. Seeing them he wouldn’t be able to leave. Clockwork did say that all ecto-entities and contaminated would be evacuated prior. Should the council find out and they were all together it would be easy pickings. The best thing is to leave alone. Tell no one where he is going and just live the best life a runaway fugitive could.

The closer he got to the town line the harder it was to keep moving. The adrenaline spike was dropping. Vison blurring, head spinning. The billboard with the go bag was in sight. The bag was not as hidden as he remembered. Hitting the billboard counted as landing right. The impact forced a de-transformation no longer ghost. He was able to inject himself with the ecto-dejecto.

Sam had the idea for the go bags and set them up herself just having him stash them around town. Danny had never thought he would need one, Jazz was convinced they would accept him once they knew. He just thought he wouldn’t ever get caught. Jazz had only humored them by stashing a few in town with them. She had been concerned about the lab for his health not that they had been doing it intentionally. He so had bragging rights for once. Well as soon as it was safe to see her again.

Bragging rights aside, the injection was clearing his head. Leaving a lab without checking himself was dumb. Sitting on the little ledge he began to check himself over. The wound on his stomach had started to sluggishly bleed. Staples, for easy access. Not great for long-term care, for now it would have to work. There was a Y incision that wasn’t clean, the struggle was obvious. It was jagged and curved. It looked like a massacre, clothes included. The shirt he was wearing was destroyed. Dried blood and torn up, the same could be said for his pants. Removing the remains of the shirt he dug in the go bag for the med kit. The medical supplies in the bad were used, wrapping the damage. There was no time for any reconstructive work. A quick change into a black NASA sweatshirt and some jeans, just enough time to write notes. Disposing of a tracker or two as he changed.

The bag did contain a fair amount. Sam had insisted on being prepared for any situation. Some clothes, the med kit, an envelope, and a communicator. He would leave that behind no doubt Tucker would track him down with it.

Also, from the bag the phantom-ectosignature-hider. Just like Fenton work products Danny named his the same way. Branding does matter, his PR was already dead. It was a belt designed to hide his ecto signature specifically. Skulker had imputed it into his mainframe allowing the hunt to be quicker. The solution was modify and adapt. It only worked when he was human, he couldn’t hide the signature while ghost or when using powers. Just to be safe he clicked the thermos on the belt. Using it meant the gig was up but not having it on him made him uncomfortable. The thermos was a safety net.

All that was left was to drop them in their rendezvous point. It was a part of there escape plan, grab the stuff meet and run. The communicator did have a use. He would send them a message just in case they didn’t think to look. It had to have been at least a day he had been missing. No doubt they were concerned. The notes just explained the situations and his goodbyes. With the three notes deposited and the message sent he took off. Leaving amity and the communicator behind him.

For the sake of everyone he would run for as long as needed. He left just as the sun was setting.

He’d take clockwork seriously this time. That man stalks all the timelines. Even told him what to do when running, follow the bats and birds he said. Leaving him with yet another mind game riddle warning thing. Not even a hey go here or a by the way don’t go home right away. Danny had around 1000 problems and clockwork could solve them all. Where do birds and bats live together? Do they co-mingle? Danny didn’t know, they were two different species after all. The plan was to wing it for now. Once he was all the way in one piece and not within the vicinity of Amity he could try and decipher the clue.

With no clue where to go he just started following a bird. Maybe it could get him somewhere. There was only one out and about and it flew east. So east is the way he went. Heading to the town line was his first hitch. There were white van patrolling the roads and the lab coats were back. Instead of catching him in the lab they most of planned to catch him off guard. Let him go just to recatch him to dimmish his hopes and dreams of escape.

Flying higher he could see that the entire town had these patrols on the outskirts. The guys in white had no other reason to monitor town except for him. A red light flashed on him like a laser pointer. He had been spotted. They may have the sky and field advantage. He was going to have to dig a little deeper so underground it was. Going as deep and as far east as he could.

Once it became too much to stay under, he had to pop up. He kept going being forced to de-transform at several points. He stayed in forest away from roads as much as he could. Taking advantage of the night. Learning to stay low to the ground. There hadn’t been any more lab coats since amity. Not a single bat so far either. He kept going until daybreak. With daybreak he really needed to find a place and just sit down. Going forward only changing directions whenever he saw a bird. He was traveling by a stretch of highway. Keeping tight in the woods. Only ever using his powers when he heard a car coming to go invisible.

The ecto-dejecto hadn’t been the hail Mary for him as it was Dani. Yes, he was awake and fully aware, yet his powers were on the fritz. Random moments he could feel them fading, flying low was a must. If hitting the billboard was annoying falling in a tree was worse. Definitely pulled something. If he tried to summon ice it was little flurries or an ice cube. Invisibility or intangibility just depending on how it was feeling. The voice in the back of his head was blaming the blood blossoms. In Salem he couldn’t move or use his powers, it was still inside him.

A sign for a closed area was up ahead. That’s where he’d recuperate a bit. The facilities were still operational, he’d take that as a win today. Looking in the dingy mirror, deeper bags sat under his eyes. The bags seemed bruised and were discolored; he didn’t even know when or how he got hit there. The most concerning part was a part of his hair that was now white. Coincidence didn’t happen, it was related to why his powers were being wonky. Leaving the bathroom, the sun was long gone. A lot more time had passed then he realized.

The farther east he went the more death was lingering. Tragedies, blood bath and so many traumatic events. Wherever this was stemming from was causing rifts into the infinite realm. To an average person they would never know. He could feel ectoplasma, while corrupt it was in the air. Getting stronger as he went. This wasn’t like amity, the veil wasn’t thin here, this was caused by extreme emotions of the dead. It would be prime breeding ground for a powerful ghost to manifest here if one hadn’t already.

Staying human would be best. The belt would hide him. The only reason he didn’t turn around was the fact he saw a red robin. His ghost sense was linked to his ice core, it would be unlikely for another to sense him. If a ghost had formed here, it could cause issues, they would know the customs and rules. Either a fight that would be noticed by the others or an overly concerned ghost. Both less than ideal. It was time to channel his inner Jazz and plan ahead.

His first step was in progress, keep moving. Second was to form the master plan. Suddenly a bright light in the sky caught his attention. There was a giant bat sign in the sky.

That cemented the fact he should stick around for at least a nap. His walking pace was slow. The sun had started to rise, and the bat light thing was long gone. Why there was a light in the sky for a bat he didn’t know. What he did know was that an unmaintained in need of a cleaning sign was standing.

Entering Gotham City.

I don't really get tagging people. Like am I supposed to include people who asked in the first part or just the second part. I'm only including those who asked in the last one. If its continuous I have no problems adding people in.

@56thingsinaname @manglethemingle

#dc x dp #dp x dc #danny fenton #danny phantom #giw #dp dc crossover #fanfic #I have a 7000 item report i should be looking through #screw that #Geology is a filler class for me #mild descriptions of wounds #run ghost run

[kartywarty]

is everyone revealing ocs now??? hi welcome to my top ten facts about my ocs

no.1 Halbert K. Robinson

1. he has viltigo and hides it by wearing his mask a lot

2 .works as a janitor to clean the base

3. was forced to resort to working in a crime due to skin condition, he was framed for a crime he didn’t commit and because people thought he looked weird COUGHS. i wonder who said that ?? huh

4. ex-fire fighter, all his training went down the drain

5. hes 37 and is 5’4” ft tall

6. is actually matt engarde from aa!/j

7. seen as a lower class because of his mask, but in reality he once lifted a whole ass couch just to clean under it

8. the “K” in his name stands for “Karl”

9. he has keys to every room/area in the base so he can clean

10. was hired because he had a “criminal history”, he had to beg to live and only had an option to join mary (he was hired before he knew larry was in control)

btw guys im still figuring out his lore idk guys

no.2 Riktor V. Markov

1. speaks russian and BARELY understands english

2. has a translator to help him understand (will be mentioned next)

3. looks very intimidating, but hes rarely soft to people sometimes

4. his dad was a godfather for a mafia back in russia, he eventually got arrested and riktor had to migrate to robloxia with his soon to be his translator

5. 5’8” ft tall and is 42 years old

6. uses his bonesaw as defense

7. his hair isnt gray, his hair is ashy blonde

8. the “V” in his name is “Victor”

9. his mom got executed by another mafia that was against his father and he was forced to witness it with his bare eyes

10. his favorite medical tool is the bonesaw

no.3 Feliks Novikov

1. he is half russian and half american

2. is riktors translator, hes actually helped riktor migrate away and have been childhood friends. they were bullies before

3. has actually been hired by larry in the past, once retired when larry was defeated, later has been recruited by mary

4. convinced mary to hire riktor for medic

5. 5’4” ft tall, 40

6. has a family of 2 and is married, he has a son and a baby daughter.

7. loves jazz he even plays the saxophone

8. plays in a band with the other henchmen in the evil base, hes the lead

9. hes a gentleman and respects his higherups

10. was actually favored a lot by larry

no.4 Scary Autry (Autry P. Harrington)

1. his face in the past had scarring and acne (his face is greasy, one of the reasons why he hides his face)

2. bffs with barry, cabbage (another break in oc), and danry (also another break in oc). they are known as the “alphabet fourlets”

3. his mom left him few months after he was born, he was raised by his dad and grew up with toxic masculinity OH NO WHO SAID THAT AHH!!

4. hates mary and larry A LOT. he hates larry for defending mary and he hates mary for trying to reveal his own face COUGHC OUGH (rreference to my fanfic about his backstory)

5. 6’4” ft tall, he is 68 years old

6. he knows karate, kung fu, and bare knuckle boxing

7. seems to be really harsh but just blocks out feelings

8. loves wearing boots.

9. the weapon he uses are golden brass knuckles

10. hes TERRIBLE at playing instruments, he was failing music class during his origin phase

no.5 oswald the hacker/guest

1. his real name/username is Guest0091288

2. he listens to ivycomb and babymetal

3. he was once a guest, he had a lot of good progress while playing other games throughout roblox, until they banned guests. oswald did not accept losing his progress and took things the hard way by somehow reviving his guest account, he fleed to break in to blend in by the guest role, he was caught few weeks ago but managed to still escape by becoming a different role in which he didnt even pay for (hacker role)

4. he has an illumina instead of the classic sword, he uses his phone to spawn holograms tthat act like a shield

5. he is 5’1” and is ageless

6. he hates wearing the caps guests wore, he didnt like how it felt

7. he does not speak, he uses tts (text to speech). the tts program he uses is the alpha moonbase tts

8. loooves making fun of people, even when hes successful to get away with it

9. can impersonate/shapeshift into other characters and users, however his tts voice still remains the same

10. very unpredictable.

no.6 Carter J. Dickgum (self insert)

1. married to bradley beans

2. almost had a divorce arc Thanks for hanging out with me!

3. named “Carter” instead of “Karter” because of his curved smile (get it)

5. 5’5” ft tall and 45 years old

6. shaves and HATES HAVING A Stubblle

7. doesnt like working out most of the time

8. his emotions appear to be VERY obvious, he is very expressive

9. works as a cashier at tacobell

10. wears mismatched socks everyday.

Okay guys thansk for tunkng in chatn! ‘My sunshine students

#break in 2 #roblox break in #break in #break in roblox #roblox break in 2 #break in oc #break in 2 oc

[starry-nights12]

There's No Remedy For Memory

Read on AO3

Relationship:Ekko/Jinx (Timebomb)

Word Count: 3,731

Tags:Mutaual Pinning,Hurt/Comfort, Happy Ending,Firelight Member Jinx (League of Legends), Brief Mention of Violence

Summary:What would you do if your friend mourned over someone you hated?

That's the predicament Ekko is in when Jinx wants a friend as she misses Silco.

~~~~

This fic is based on my post!

Credit for the title goes to @creativepromptsforwriting

Big thanks to @mycomfortblanket for editing this!🥰❤️

You can listen to the fic's playlist while you read!

~~~~

The budding community below was jovial and laughing together, Jinx had preferred to lay on the lone tree branch away from the commotion. Her ponytail hung over the edge, along with her leg swinging. 

The butterfly knife's sharp blade gracefully twirled around her hand with ease. 

Silco had an affinity for knives. 

After showing her the tricks he mastered with the butterfly knife she wanted him to teach her how. 

Her second favorite was the 16-inch hunting knife she brought to the shimmer raids. 

When the mission requires more stealth; she sneaks up behind one of the guards and slits their throat. Or during a fight, she would dodge attacks and see her chance, she stabbed them in the stomach.

She would clean the knife to stick it in her desk until the next raid: Just like how Silco had the knife he used to kill Vander -and almost her- idly in his desk at The Last Drop. 

She stared at the shark she had drawn on the blade and smiled wistfully. It was fascinating how a common household appliance could be used to watch the life leave people's eyes. 

The tell-tale sound of cheering alerted her that The Firelights arrived home safe and sound. 

She pocketed the knife in her black shorts and climbed down the tree branches. 

Over the crowd, Ekko spotted her and smiled at the blue-haired woman jogging towards him."Hey," 

"Hi," She gave him a quick hug and delicately took the items from his hand with a tentative smile.  "You remembered...!" 

"I told you I'd get them,”  He assured. 

She stroked the box fondly with affection in her gaze, she exhaled deeply as her smile wanted. 

She hugged the items to her chest. Her lips started quivering and blinked away the oncoming tears. 

Some people eyed her peculiarly but a glare from Ekko made the onlookers avert their gaze and walk away. 

Jinx used her sleeve to swipe at her eyes. She bit her lip and looked almost timidly at him, "Do you-" She cleared her throat and then sniffled, swiping under her nose, "Do you want to hang out with me?" 

Before the Firelights left the base for the market Jinx handed Ekko a small piece of paper: 

★Cigars 

♡Ashtray 

•ᴗ•Jazz records 

-JINX✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚

Ekko had looked confused. "Since when did you start smoking?" 

Jinx frowned and then held her arm, "I don't...it's stuff he used to have." 

----

Ekko stood outside her room as she told him to. He was the only one that came by to knock on her door whenever he wanted to talk to her. 

However, this would be the first time he would be inside her room. There was no reason for him to be in it anyway. 

Her diary lay open on her bed. Some days her mental health was worse, while lightheartedness was sprinkled within the pages. 

E +J=♡, Jinx♡Ekko, Ekko♡Jinx, Ekko♡♡♡♡

She drew stick figures of them holding hands and kissing with hearts scribbled. 

Her monkey mask sat on top of the dresser amongst black & white polaroids 

She and Ekko were sitting on the ground. He was leaning against her with her braid on his upper lip. She had an arm around his shoulder, flipping off the camera with both hands while wearing a wide grin. 

After her first successful mission as a Firelight, she took a picture of them when they got back to the home base. They were still wearing their mask and she and Ekko held out the rock’n’roll signs. 

Scar and Ekko can be so serious that it was no wonder those two were best friends. They can be so utterly boring that they could put her to sleep. 

One of her favorite past times was messing with them. She snapped the picture of the two men seconds after her glitter bomb went off. 

Despite their complaints, it was hilarious. 

And a couple of photos of Porofessor. Heimendinger was nice enough to let her hug it and take the picture. 

The last one was just for herself. 

Ekko had let her take this photo of him. 

He was in his white tank top and baggy shorts with his toolbox next to him. He sat by his hoverboard with a gentle smile and oil smeared across his cheek. 

She drew his hourglass symbol with hearts around it. 

He is so dreamy.

She always thought he was. Even though he was twenty-years-old his boyish charms never faded and still affected her. 

She especially wanted to run her hands up and down his muscular arms. They had to feel as good as they look 

A woman had needs. You couldn't blame her for her thoughts. 

I mean...awooga! Right?! 

She wasn't afraid of death. That's why she would happily be killed if he ever found out about any of this. 

She opened the drawer of her nightstand and hid the diary and picture frame inside. 

Jinx swung opened her door and beamed eagerly, "Welcome to my humble abode!" She exalted and gestured widely to her room with her arm. 

Half-melted purple candles were around her room. The curtains were partially opened letting the drawings in neon paint glow. 

Crystals, inactive chompers, and glowsticks hung above the ceiling. Her hoverboard leaned on her dresser with a few clothes sticking out of its drawers. 

A vinyl rack holder and bookshelf were against the wall. The music box he created for her sat on her nightstand. 

When Jinx closed her door, there were three crayon drawings on the back of it. There were drawings of enforcers but two stood out. 

Sevika had a mustache and a monocle, and her mouth was stitched closed. The words 'Liar', 'Ogre', and 'Dumbass' were written around her. 

Caitlyn's eyes were crossed out. She sported devil horns and pointed ears.  She showed off her fangs with a malicious grin. 

'Bitch' was written in red crayon numerous times. They each had throwing knives jutted from their faces. 

He had a small frown. He didn't know Caitlyn that well but Vi trusted and liked her. 

She was the only Piltie that gave a shit about Zaunites and seemed genuine about wanting to help his hometown. He gave her props for that. 

Even though he didn't gve a shit about the rest of the topsiders; At least Vi would be there to console her while she grieved her mother. 

They knew all too well what it was like to lose family members. 

Jinx carefully took the vinyl out of the cover and then placed the needle on the disc. 

She set her butterfly knife on her desk. There were unfinished blueprints of new inventions that were laid on the table. 

He look up at the crucified bunny plushie above her desk and then grimaced.  He draped his jacket behind the chair before he pulled it out to sit. 

In the corner of her room, she lit four red candles with Silco's lighter she held onto after the tea party. 

She lit the cigar and waved it around like an incense. She deeply inhaled the bitter scent then sighed softly with a small smile. She then set it in the ashtray on the small table with the lighter. 

She sat on her bed and undid the laces and buckles on her platform boots. 

Above was an old drawing of her, Vander, Vi, Claggor, and Mylo. Besides that was drawing of her as a child and holding Silco's hand. Along with a drawing of Silco with hearts. 

'I love you, Dad!' 

'I miss you SO much!!!' 

'I'm so sorry.'

'I didn't mean to'

She wrote the last two sentences with broken hearts and a frowny face with tears drawn. 

A dull ache reverberated in his chest. 

It's a memorial.

He had forgiven her. 

Although, it still stung how she choose Silco over him. He was with her when she pushed him away and had no one else to support her. 

No matter how much he despised him, he would always be her beloved father. 

He tore his eyes away from the drawings. He slumped over, staring at his hands folded in his lap. 

Her giddiness from a minute ago had dissipated. She looked away and bit her lower lip nervously. 

Oh great. You wanted to spend some time with him but your room is making him sad. It's only a matter of time before he wants to leave.

She breathed deeply and then rubbed her hands down her split purple and black stockings. 

She moved a nonexistent strand of hair behind her pierced ear. "You can...you can sit by me if you want." 

Ekko jerked his head up, "Huh?" 

Oh Gods, I made it worse. 

A flush crept across her cheeks. She shook her head and started waving her hand dismissively. "Nothing. It's fine. I-" 

"No, no. I was just surprised. I'm alright with it." He quickly assured. 

"Oh!" She nodded, fiddled with the long sleeves of her purple and black striped crop top. 

A smile returned to her face and she patted the empty spot next to her. He smiled shyly and took up on her offer. 

He had his back straight with his hands on his lap. Why was he so stiff? Did he hate being here? Was he ready to leave?

"I want to paint it. The ashtray. It's what his looked like. I probably should have done that first but I wasn't thinking. I'll show it to you later if you want," She rambled. 

"I bet it will be great. You're an amazing artist." 

She flashed him a smirk. "Thanks. You draw good, too." 

They sat in silence again-the music didn't count. 

Why are we being so weird? We're just sitting on a dumb bed. It's not like anything is going to happen. Just say what you need to say before he leaves.

Her knee gently bounced, her lips pressed together in a tight grimace. She inhaled deeply then sighed. 

"I'm glad I'm here with you. I really am," She toyed with her bracelet. "But if...I want him here. But I don't know if we'd ever reconcile if he was... " 

Ekko clenched his jaw before he scoffed, "He would have killed me if he knew I was with you,” he grumbled. 

Their lives were hard and they struggled to get by, but they were all happy. They had each other until Silco showed up and tore their family apart. 

Silco never allowed her to see him after the incident. When she snuck out to meet him it was even worse since she refused to go with him.

She wanted to stay with him. She told him she was happy.

Jinx's yelp of laughter startled him out of his thoughts.

Ekko's adorable, oblivious face twisted in confusion had made her giggle even more. 

If Silco found her with a man-not just any man. The leader of The Firelights of all people. In her room nonetheless. 

Silco would have been livid and even more determined to hunt Ekko and his gang down to feed his bloodlust. 

They've been a nuisance to him for several years, she was told to kill them, yet harbored a crush on said leader since she was twelve. 

The truth can be funny sometimes. 

Her friendly, affectionate pat on his cheek didn't help quell his puzzled expression. 

So, not only it was a known fact that she was crazy. But now, he had to think she was a complete weirdo, too. 

But honestly, he should have known this by now. If only he understood how comical it was, then he would be laughing, too. 

After her laughter subsided, she sighed and lay on her bed. She stared at the ceiling with a faint smile. 

"Thanks for being here," She looked back at him. "It's dumb. I know you hate him. He felt the same about you,” She chuckled weakly. "But I miss him... and I just wanted a friend." 

His expression switched to something softer. 

"I do," He affirmed. 

"But, I care about how you feel more. And I don't want you to think you have to deal with this alone. You can come to me if you want to talk about him and I can listen." 

She sat up on her elbows with a raised eyebrow. "You'd do that for me?" 

"Yeah, It's what friends do for each other." 

A smile blossomed on her face. 

That was Ekko for you. The Boy Savior had a big heart and always took care of others. 

She sat up and fixed her shirt by tugging it down. However, she looked at herself and chuckled. 

It was a weak attempt at modesty, really. 

It was torn in the middle revealing her black bra and cleavage. There wasn't anymore her outfit could expose to him. 

She dropped her hands by her side. She closed her eyes, inhaling the comforting scent of the cigar, listening to the soothing jazz music. 

"On cold, rainy days we sat by the fireplace. Before bed, he would look over his reports, I would be playing with toys or drawing while this played. Sometimes, he'd even dance with me." A fond smile crept upon her face. 

"He tried braiding my hair but he was terrible at it. He loved my desserts and tried helping me with varying results. He let me draw on almost anything. And you know how I click my pen sometimes?" 

Ekko curtly nodded. 

"It reminds me of injecting medicine in his eye. The first time I did it I was so nervous. But he encouraged me that I could do it and I actually did. He believed in me..." 

The corner of her mouth turns downwards, her shoulders slouched, with her eyes staring at the floor. 

"I can't convince you that he was a good person. But he treated me well. He loved me when no one else did," She croaked, and she wiped the tears with the back of her hand. 

I've always loved you.

Ekko pursed his lips and squeezed his hands. 

He felt like he was fourteen again. He wanted to confess how he felt about her but ended up backtracking. 

He was going to tell her someday, but now wasn't an appropriate time. 

"I've always cared about you, Jinx." He said instead, his heart in his throat. 

"I never want you to think otherwise. I'm going to try my best to help you. You're not alone, Jinx, I'm here for you." 

It was as if a damn burst. She clutched him and buried her face in his shirt. He immediately pulled her into an embrace while she sobbed. 

The only people who cared for her were Vi and Silco and they were both gone. 

She missed Silco and he was dead because of her. She even missed the close bond she and Vi use to have before her sister fucked it all up. 

The irony wasn't lost on her. She mocked him for being a savior on the bridge but Ekko was the only one in her corner that she had left. 

Some days she felt like she didn't deserve his kindness and wondered why he would put up with her. When will he get sick of her and change his mind? 

Her sobs eventually turned into whimpers and then sniffling. 

She closed her eyes and listened to his steady heartbeat. It was better than music she ever heard. 

He was alive. 

He was here. 

He was real. 

He stroked her hair and she sighed softly. It felt good to have someone play in her hair. 

"When it rains, we can listen to Jazz together. If you want,” he said. "And we can bake, too." 

He was being sweet and thoughtful and she appreciated it. He was trying to cheer her up but she couldn't resist passing up on the opportunity. 

"Your cupcakes are so hard, they can be used to knock someone unconscious." 

Ekko’s shocked laughter had his chest rumble. She cracked a grin and laughed with him. 

"I was fourteen! You gotta let some things go." 

"When you eat baking like that, it's hard to forget no matter how the years fly by." 

Ekko bumped his knee into her. "Shut up." 

"You tell me to shut up again and no one will find your body."She playfully threatened and bumped her knee into his. He nudged her arm then she shoved his. 

There was a stretch of comfortable silence between them. 

His posture noticeably changed. His shoulders dropped, and his hands were on his sides while slightly leaning back on her bed. 

She wiped at any remaining tears on her face. "Why are you so nice to me?" 

He gave a one-shoulder shrug. "We've been hating each other for seven years. I'd rather make up for lost time, yeah?"

Jinx hummed.  "Yeah, you're right." 

He smirked at her. "I know. I'm always right."

She scoffed in disgust and rolled her eyes. "Shut the hell up. This is why I'm never nice to you." 

Jinx hated feeling weak. It was why Powder was seen as useless to her family. It was why she had to die to become strong. 

But with Ekko her heart became mushy like over-chewed gum. Except she liked it. 

She liked when he looked at her, when he smiles at her, and when he laughed with her, when they teased each other. 

Maybe she was even more delusional, but she thought she felt his heated gaze on her when her back was turned. She would look over at him but he was looking elsewhere. 

Whatever it was, she liked that, too. It made her heart race and her insides feel warm and gooey like hot fudge. 

Her hand slid beside his and locked her pinky around his. 

His heart fluttered at their loosely connected fingers. He then moved his hand on top of hers and she turned her palm to stroke his knuckles with her thumb. 

His hand was big and warmer than hers. His fingernails were unpolished and she wanted to paint them so they could matchy-match.

She was dumbfounded at how he held her hand like it was something precious. As if she would slip away if he let go.

Her hands were forever stained with blood that had taken so many lives without remorse. 

While Ekko had remained kind-hearted as his hands created a sanctuary to help people in need. 

Without Ekko giving her a second chance, she would be alone, cooped up in her hideout. She would be scrounging on the streets somewhere for food until she was ultimately caught and arrested. 

Their arms were pressed against each other and their knees were still touching. Her pink eyes looked up from their hands to meet his brown eyes. 

They were so comforting that they made it impossible to look away from the warmth his gaze provided. 

She tilted her head in consideration then after a moment reached up to cup his cheek, her thumb slowly swiped along the corner of his mouth. 

His gaze dropped to her lips. His hand squeezed hers as he quickly licked his own and then locked on her eyes. 

Oh Gods. 

Can he hear her heart? It was pounding rapidly in her chest that it rang in her ears. 

She always wanted him to be her first kiss. 

She wanted to kiss him to thank him for everything he was doing. 

He forgave her despite her sins. 

He didn't see her as just the long-gone sweet, innocent Powder or the malicious, cold-hearted Jinx-not anymore at least. 

He saw her as a person capable of doing bad things but also being able to do good. 

He was the only beacon of light in this wretched world full of lies and betrayal. 

She wanted him to reciprocate her feelings but she was the grim reaper to everyone she cared about. 

She wanted to keep him safe. He deserved better than her because dear Gods. 

She couldn't lose another person in her shitty life. If she lost him, whatever scrap of sanity she had left would completely eviscerate. 

Her hand began to slide down. She pressed her lips into a thin line then turned her head with her eyes squeezed shut as if she was in agonizing pain. 

Realization struck him. 

She just finished crying over her father seven minutes ago and was most likely vulnerable yet he was ready to kiss her. She was probably coming to her senses that this was a bad idea. 

He didn't want to take advantage of her. That would never be his intention. He didn't want to make her uncomfortable or become something she would regret. 

I'm such a piece of shit.

His cheeks burned with shame and disgust at himself. She was far more important than his desire for her. 

"Jinx, I'm so-" 

Her fingers grasped his chin. His heart stuttered when she leaned in and pressed her lips against his cheek; her black lipstick marking him. 

Sure, she didn't kiss his mouth. But considering she couldn't muster to even kiss him on the cheek as a kid, it was a big step up. 

"Thank you. For everything," She said in earnest. 

He blinked himself out of his daze as he registered what had just happened. He gingerly touched his cheek which was warm for a different reason. 

He broke out in a sheepish grin. "Of course. Anything." 

She giggled softly while shaking her head. 

What a cute, stupid dork.

She released his hand and then engulf him in a bear hug as much as her thin arms could. "Thanks, Pippin." 

Ekko raised an eyebrow with an amused smile. "You keep calling me that. You seriously have to tell me what that means." 

She nuzzled his shirt and inhaled his scent. "It means annoying, smug, asshole. It fits you perfectly,” She murmured with a smirk. 

He chuckled, his eyes brimming at her with adoration. His arms wrapped around her frame to hold her tightly. He rested his chin on top of her head with a smile. 

She lo-no. Everyone she loves dies because of her. She...liked, liked him. That should suffice, right? 

She liked liked him very much and wanted him to know someday. Her heart belonged to him and she would give it to him if he ever asked.

He was her little man. 

Her boy savior. 

Her dreamboat. 

Her Angel. 

He just didn't know he was hers yet.

#timebomb #ekkojinx #ekko #jinx #jinx arcane #ekko arcane #arcane #arcane fanfic #my writing #my fics #my post #firelight jinx #hurt/comfort

[claudiathegremlin]

im bored, so im gonna rant about alastor's breakdown scene

deal with it

(i also may have lost the post with most of my info but whatever shut up/j)

WARNING: MAJOR spoilers for for hazbin hotel

if you havent watched it all the way through, id reccomend that-

also speak of sensitive topics such as father issues, mental breakdowns,

i feel like i should say this, i am NOT a psychiatrist, in ANY way shape or form, and im just speaking from prior knowledge and experience, aand also my friend who has studied psychology and all that jazz immensely (say hi to ros! :)

i also make an excess of unnecessary and dumb jokes so if you cant handle that bye i guess (/j)

(will also include random images here and there of him, bcz why not)

okay, so i dont think its that much of a secret that alastor is NOT okay, mentally (and physically, i mean, look at that gash thats not healthy smh)

it could NOT have been made ANY clearer that theres something wrong going on in this mans head, and its... uhm whats the word help ive backed myself in to a corner here

theres more than one s o m e t h i n g thats wrong, i guess, and im here to give my opinion and theory on the matter so uhhhhhh

make sure to SMASH THAT LIKE AND SUBSCRIBE BUTTON FOR MORE AMAZING CONTENT1!1!1!!/j

okay very dumb and idiotic jokes aside smh, im gonna explore and explain each one of the reasons i think this guy is not okay, starting with

d r u m r o l l

father issues! yayyyyy amazinggggg totally not horrible haha whaatt.. anyways, there are numerous hints that alastor had, at the very least, a very problematic father, and, hey, ever notice how he's more comfortable around women?? and that he was a confirmed 'mamma's boy'? yeah, based on those two things (i only provided two reasons because, haha, i may or may not have lost the post i was using for info) i think we can concur that he had atleast SOME sort of father issues, and not the "oh yeah he's just an annoying goofy fella" kind of father issues

of course, we ALSO have the deal he made, which was brought up briefly in episode 5, and 8

and there i s kind of a funky little debate on who the deal was with, and what it was for, but the two main cantidates are lilith, and roo

and who knows what lilith/roo makes him do, even? ...okay, aside from lilith/roo, who would be the ones making him do things-

i dont know, theres not alot i can say on this matter other than its most likely alastor made a deal with either lilith or roo to save his power or something, and briefly bring up the fact that he probably does have to do some things here and there, and the fact that if it i s lilith he made the deal with, she probably sent him to help out with the hotel, maybe, i dont know

WHEWWWW OKAY THEN lets get in to some of his behaviours that are n o t at ALL good or normal, the way he treats husk and reacts to him 'caring' about his 'friends' wooo yayyyyy

also heres another alastor image so you little grubs(/j) dont get bored at the lack of things to look at woo

lets start with how he treats husk, thats just, thats not nice man dont do that :(

jokes aside though, there HAS to be some reason that he treats him like this, theres no way that its just because he owns his soul- like, unless husk did something reaallyyy bad theres no reason to treat him like that (granted, alastor IS in hell for a reason, and is NOT a normal or good person)

anyway thats it for this section because i really dont have anything and im relying on the wiki and memory alone to get me through this post shush :(

okay lets talk about his reaction to him nearly dying for his 'friends' and actually caring about them

its clear that this man has some sort of issues with caring about people, and there has GOT to be more than one reason why other than "oh no people are gonna think im a softie thats no good :( *has a breakdown musically*" i mean, it COULD be just that one, but i just really dont think it is honestly, i dont really have that diffinitive of a reason, i just really think that something happened that made him n o t want to get attached to people,

and i REALLLYYYY want to know what that reason is in season two

alright, for the last bit of this post, i think we should discuss the fact that he always smiles

we DO know that one of the reasons is that, to him atleast, a smile is a valuable tool, that keeps your friends inspired, and your enemys guessing, and always ensures YOU'RE the one in control

but its HEAVILY implied in this image that there is another reason,

if you observe close enough (not really that close, but hey who has perfect eyesight not me) you can see it looks like his mouth is stitched, and even more so to be literally always smiling so theres a possibility that either lilith or roo is ALSO forcing him to smile

then again it could just be something about him literally not being able to talk about his deal, which is also plausible

...or thats just what he looks like idk im not here to judge his fashion choices

CONGRATULATIONS!! you made it to the end of my stupid post! keep in mind that any and all of this could change at any given point, and i will update it accordingly....if i remember to

i am not using this in any way to condone his actions AT ALL, you shouldent be a cannibal, or a serial killer, or be manipulative (is that the right word???), thats unswag smh, and i am NOT AT ALL a psychologist, or a psychiatrist, once again, i only really know some of these things because my friend rambles about them, and i used to get in to crime and psychology documentaries when i was bored

so i am not at ALL a professional

thanks for reading this shit show of a post

#alastor #hazbin alastor #alastor hazbin #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor the radio demon #radio demon #hazbin hotel #hazbin

[l1mit-breaker]

GOD FINALLY HES DONE OH MY G O

i present to you my favoritest time travel boi

extra dumb rants from me utc .

chris ( me ) after watching horror videssays while drawing at midnight

they are so lovely but i do not need to be jumpscared by WHEELS and DOORS AAAA ( kane pixels “the rolling giant” for context ) shakes fists ………

i wouldve got this post out sooner if the art arted better but well . SIGH . i also realized i accidentally kind of made him colored like fucking steve from minecraft and now im . i make bad decisions .

anyways ! heres a thing for whoevers still reading; design choices ! because i actually think sometimes ! woo !

i have all the uh , color pallet stuff (???) of the characters saved and i try to use as much as the colors on those as possible because (1. its a pretty cool challenge , and (2. iiii am horrendous with coming up with my own pallets !! ahaha ! for roman i had it in my heart and in my soul ( for some reason ) that he has wavy/fluffy brown hair . i added the highlight things because . uh . colors . and it looks cool . AND WHY NOT :D i put him in a very simple outfit because he is a prisoner ( /j ) and the gloves are for coolness points and because of ✨THE LAB✨ . safety and all that jazz wAIT I SHOULDVE GIVEN HIM GOGGLES GODAMMIT- ahem , anyways the side doodle is just yknow regular evil time travel bull . i think thats it . i probably wouldve done more if not for my brain being half turned off and the fact ive been procrastinating on this ever since i finished cyril .

i also want to mention how badly i want to make an animatic of the time travel experiment log video . but hell knows id never be able to finish that if i tried .

anyways thanks for reading have a great time !

#reverie audios #you wouldnt believe how long it took for me to get the mesh tool to work with me #i was literally going to take it to the dennys parking lot to beat it in hand to hand combat #but i got it eventually #yay me . #sir reverie audios why do you make your bgs so very difficult to replicate

[bearsinpotatosacks]

I made a more updated Cornetto Trilogy/Mission Impossible/Top Gun/ER family tree so here it is but I'll also explain it too. Also shout out to @whoophoney for keeping my special interest in the cornetto trilogy alive

I can't actually get all branches on here, hence the explaination, but we'll start at the Great Grandma who started it all. She had 2 daughters, who we'll call Grandma King and Grandma Angel for the 2 family lines. Let's go down theAngel line first.

Left to right, we have Barbara Riley, with her unnamed dead husband named Father Riley, and her only son Shaun Riley, we also see her and Phillip Not-Riley because we don't actually get his surname or what Barbara's is so, yeah, any name I don't have is just not-known surname.

Next we have Gillian Bisley, nee Angel, once married to but not separated from John Bisley with their two kids Tim and Kate Bisley. We see that Tim is kind of with Daisy, and their kid "Luke" Bisley but I just don't get why they didn't name their daughter Leia?

And finally, we have Father Angel, keeper of the namesake, also without a name, and his only son Nicholas, appropriately partnered to one, Danny Butterman, yes I have put the Butterman's on here too but we know them.

Next we'll go down the King line

I'll explain the Benji and Gary situation because they have different surnames. Benji was born when his parents were together, maybe married, maybe not, but he got his dad's name. Gary was born after their dad had left when their mum told him she was pregnant again, so got his mum's surname.

Benji went to Oxford, then got scouted by an American engineering company so went there. But going with the Dead Reckoning Pt 1 idea that most people in the IMF got into some dodgy stuff and had no way out, the only thing I can imagine Benji doing is pirating stuff? He got really good at it during uni but found something he shouldn't have done and was given the choice of prison or be a tech at the IMF. As far as his family know, he's still working at that engineering company.

Benji and Ethan are together, of course, and let's go into his side of the family.

Ethan and Maverick are twin brothers, yes in canon there's 2 years between them but sshhhh, this is my family tree. They were born twins in 1962 but separated after Duke Mitchell died. Ethan was adopted by Margaret and Nathan Hunt and slowly forgot about his birth family, not because they forced him to but just because he was turning three when Duke died.

Mav forgot too and after his mum died, he went into foster care. One day, I think Benji gets Ethan a family tree thing and he finds out he has a twin brother. They meet, bond, maybe clash a little because of their values? I know they're quite similar in the way that they rebel against their respective governmental organisations but I feel like the reasons why would cause them to clash? Mav does it because that's just what he does whereas Ethan does it because he wants to save everyone.

Now onto Mav, his RIO was Goose and this is where I added more to my previous family tree.

I wanted Goose and Mark Greene to be cousins because they both have some kind of connection to the military, Goose is in the Navy, Mark's dad was a captain in the Navy and felt pressured to join it. But then I realised that if their dads were brothers, how could they have different names. So I blamed the War. I did have a headcanon that Goose's grandad was a jazz musician, but maybe that's on his mum's side.

So, Grandpapy Bradshaw, had Goose's dad then died in WW2, maybe on D-Day, which goes with the theme of Bradshaws dying young because I headcanon that Goose's dad died when he was 13 and Goose died at 26 and Carole dies at some point when Bradley's a kid. His Grandma remarries to Grandpapa Greene, has Mark's dad, then Mark's born and kind of hates Goose when he's going through his teenage angst phase he went through in Hawaii because Goose was his dad's favourite nephew because he wanted to join the Navy so much.

Mark met Jen, had Rachel, got divorced, met Elizabeth, had Ella and died. Obviously a lot more, but I wonder what he'd think of his cousin dying so young when he was still in his Navy hating part of his life.

I really want to see a Benthan wedding, with all the Cornetto Trilogy people on Benji's side, and all of the past teams for Mission Impossible and all the Top Gun gang on Ethan's. It's just a funny image and it would probably be interrupted by some bad guy trying to destroy the world and everyone's reactions would be hilarious

Gonna tag @pollyna and @caveiratimida too

#top gun #the cornetto trilogy #er #mission impossible #mission: impossible #blood and ice cream trilogy #e.r #ethan hunt #benthan #benji dunn #gary king #the world's end #nicholas angel #danny butterman #angelbutter #hot fuzz #shaun riley #shaun of the dead #tim bisley #daisy steiner #pete maverick mitchell #pete mitchell #nick goose bradshaw #nick bradshaw #carole bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #goosecarole #mark greene #jen greene #elizabeth corday