With the end of dr season 2 I’m noticing there are two very distinct types of kai fans
One type is the kind that love him dearly and want nothing ever bad to happen to him cuz he’s a little guy.
And the other loves him dearly but would let him burn in the deepest pits of hell for their own amusement cuz he’s just a little guy
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there’s a spider in the gallavich house! who’s dealing with it and how?
if it's anything like my house, it ends in them both shouting 🗣 I DID IT LAST TIME, YOU MOVE THE SPIDER, WELL I DON'T LIKE THEM EITHER BUT WE SAID WE'D TAKE TURNS SO YOU MOVE IT JUST PUT IT OUTSIDE, YOU CAN REACH IT BETTER THAN ME ANYWAYS NO IT'S NOT POISONOUS JUST -
and then by the time one of them heaves the world's most put upon sigh and goes to get the cup, the spider is gone asdkfj and then it's more of a question as to who says "oh good it's gone" and who has to then tear the house apart looking for it lmao (that's mickey)
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exchanging recs with the crush who you're 50% sure likes u back
bocchi the rock <=> good omens
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Goth Vaggie because how could you let her be so tasteless in the gothness bro. Please... atleast one hint at goth vaggie 😔
My other non related Vaggie redesign sort of expression sheet + goth vaggie x Charlie under cut vvvv
Didn't turn out as well as I wanted it to. I think I rushed out the sketch and tried to fix it in line art as best as I could. Soo... I love Vaggie guys. Like a normal amount yknow? So normal. (It's crazy. I kin Charlie ofc but Vaggie is literally so mmmff)
Still trying to find a consistent head shape for Vaggie sooo I'll jst practice I guess
Very VERY messy and quick doodle I shit out. Might finish one day, these new nails make digital art hard (i draw on phone and am too pussy for computer and I'm too poor for traditional art lmao so expect shit art for a bit maybe unless i thug it out fr)
PLEASE CHAGGIE JST ONE CHANCE ONE CHANCEE ONE CHA-
I love these goobers so much 💜💜
Charlie tryinna not look at booba, respect women even tho they is in bed wit you 🗣🔥
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No one asked and I dunno what’s going to come out of this but I’m going batshit so fucking have at thee.
Jason creates lightning storms. It crackles across his skin, glows inside his veins. Thunder cracks the sky when he screams. He howls and prowls the ground like a wolf, hunched over and licking his teeth. His eyes glow. He’s haunting. He speaks to birds, coaxes them in close before snapping at them whole, scarfing down blood and bones and meat. Doesn’t care the mess on his mouth. Doesn’t care the mess on his hands.
Tornados ripple when he’s mad, rolling up from every angered breath he exhales. Summons lightning bolts from the sky and wields them in calloused reddened hands like swords and spears and daggers and bows and shields. It rains when he cries. Pours down viciously the longer his sadness last. The louder he cries, the harder it hits the ground. Forming hail that breaks the earth.
Manipulates the wind around him to run fast. One minute he’s there, the next he’s gone. He can pin you down with a look, steal the breath form your lungs and hold it vicious above your head as you wheeze and sob without sound and die.
His father is the god of justice and order and it’s like switch goes off in his mind. The Underworld conducts fairness on what it sees in your soul, the life you lived. He conducts justice on what he wants, what he thinks you deserve and Cupid screams as everything burns, his blood boiling under the heat of lightning wrapped around his body, as Jason floats above him, empty-eyed and rippling like a storm, until Nico screams at him to stop it. Pulls him down with shadowy tendrils, grabs the scepter, and drags Jason away into the shadows.
It’s only when Cupid no longer in his line of sight, his range of smell, his hearing perimeter, that he switches back on. Happy kind Jason who holds Nico’s hands and asks if he’s okay with gentle tones and assures him that no one will hate him if he chooses to come out with his feelings and Nico stares at bloodied teeth and glowing eyes and know it’s true because Jason wouldn’t let them.
When you ask him why he feels the need to bloody his hands and teeth and burn electricity along the skin of those who’ve done wrong, he will simply say, “They deserved it.” Camp quickly beats this out of him with demands of regality and logic and snappish tongues and people cowering away from him so harshly he gets upset but there are moments where his eyes glow a bit too much and they fear the return of a bloodied six year old sitting hunched over like a dog atop a pile of groaning, moaning, dying bodies because they dared to call his friend names.
He’ll torture you and see nothing wrong with it. Find the electricity inside your skin and electrocute you without touching. Ramp it up by ten, by a hundred and watch you cook from the inside out. Grappling him down does nothing. He shouts and you splatter.
He’s inhuman, a god among demigods, a wolf among sheep. A predator through and through. He smiles more than stares the older he gets but the campers know what he is and they watch him emerge from Mount Othrys thrumming with the same kind of energy he had when the wolves threw him to them. Blood smeared on his mouth and hands, golden as the weapons that they grip tighter in their hands with every pounding step he takes forward.
And he smiles and laughs and it’s manic and horrifying and with the thrill of defeating a Titan single-handed still rolling through him like a live wire, everyone else goes down. All enemies burned out and emptied. Gasping for breaths that never come. Struck down by lightning. Blown apart by determined bursts of air.
And Jason is standing there in the carnage, delighted. His laughter sounds like howls. The wind rockets against him, the air, the sky, the rain, the clouds - it all twists against his skin and heals his wounds, heals his bruises, invigorates him over and over again to burn, to break, to destroy, until all their enemies are justly defeated and he can confidently declare the war is won.
Order, they realize, comes in many forms.
This is Jason’s.
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trying to answer asks is sometimes like a serene walk through the forest in ideal weather ending in perhaps a picnic on a beautiful clearing, of course the benevolent picnic gods packed your favourite foods in this scenario as well, and sometimes it’s like devils ripping your skin off slowly and dunking you in salt and acid before roasting you over an open flame like a marshmallow and eating you alive.
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what are some of your most random headcanons? mine is that zy riddler has a coffee order that is both very simple and very odd (black with two pumps mint syrup, nothing else added and he gets it every time) and that btaa riddler is permabanned from almost every major gotham art gallery for being annoying and loud
YES YES YES ok lemme give you one random headcanon for each of the mean green beans pleaseeeeeeee 💚
young justice: he can't really tell left from right, so he's always doing that little hand thing where your left makes an L
arkham: his favourite flavour of anything in this world is sour apple. he doesn't like sour things really. it's the punishment though
dano: he was obsessed with the broadway musical cats when he was younger and has a t-shirt of it that he wears to bed
capullo: he wears shoes with a thick insole and a disguised heel so that he's 3" taller
telltale: if he had a time machine, he'd go back and shake francisco goya's hand first and foremost
gotham: had a brief mental breakdown at university and threatened to drop out and solve the jack the ripper case
unburied: he has this weird goal of sleeping with as many different pronoun users as possible, he's got quite a lot under his belt
twojar: he likes it when people trace his scar with their tongue, but he won't outright ask for it cos he thinks that's kinda weird (it's not)
btaa: he wanted to be a boardwalk bubble blower for a while in his youth. huge bubbles. put himself inside a bubble. y'know?
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