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#he’s gonna get cold :
bruciemilf · 1 year
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I wonder how many times Clark and the batkids + Alfred revived Bruce with the Lazarus Pit and just never told him abt it
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amielot · 7 months
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Hot bath
Dream: is.. a cold hose... abnormal?
Hob: ... HOW cold?....
Bonus:
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Dream's been clean for awhile. But Hob just keeps pouring hot water because he can tell Dream likes it.
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prahacat · 6 months
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first snow
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fizzytoo · 3 months
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this version of us only lives inside a dream❣️ (happy valentine's day!)
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wait, no. i think my ACTUAL hottest aa take is that i don't think klavier is all that nice
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I imagine that when König doesn't eat enough (especially considering how massive he is, that 6'10 giant in camo.) and when the colder seasons roll around he's all sleepy and slow (think, Wall-E before getting his solar charge.) bit once he get enough food and is warm enough it's like he slowly comes alive and is able to do more and get stuff done.
Yes have you seen that slutty little waist and that itty bitty tummy?? Guy has crazy fast metabolism and stands about 10 feet tall so he needs a lot of food and also a pair of woolen socks and mittens... He has poor blood flow in his feet and hands and if he eats a lot all the blood goes to his stomach. Poor thing 💔
Maybe that’s why he’s so grumpy and therefore -> trigger happy, König is always underfed and cold climates make him look like a huge, stiff, walking icicle. His skin could be blazing like a furnace and still he claims he’s cold, pulls you closer for snuggles and won’t say no to an extra blanket. When his cold shins and feet meet yours, you shriek :( Even worse are the icy fingers that steal their way under your shirt...
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greenglowinspooks · 5 months
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(DCxDP) Drowning in formaldehyde (Pt. 2)
Tw: canon-typical violence (Batman), emetophobia at one point
Will be crossposted to AO3 eventually
(Pt. 1)
(Masterlist/subscription post)
Danny sat in the back of one of the transport trucks currently on the way to Arkham, his hands in his lap.
So far, everything was going to plan.
About a quarter of the team had gotten themselves admitted into Arkham in the days leading up to the raid, carefully sneaking in supplies and weapons for both themselves and the rogues they were going to free.
Half of the team was on trucks, ready to storm the building with their fancy new tech. A couple others were keeping an eye out for the Bats, and the last one was holed up in a recently condemned building, ecto-modified sniper rifle in hand, ready to fire.
Danny’s hands were cold.
He hadn’t always run cold, from what he remembered. Even after he died—hell, even after he started developing his ice powers—he had always been warm.
Now, though, his body was freezing.
Maybe it was because of the ecto siphoning he and Derringer had done the day before.
He couldn’t make the ecto guns work without fueling them, after all, and the only ectoplasm he had access to was the stuff inside his body. So, he had Derringer hook him up to a GiW machine and filter the ecto out of his blood.
The process was excruciating.
Not only did he get light-headed from the loss of fluids, the machine also chilled his blood considerably during the filtering process, and when it was pumped back into his body, it was freezing. Derringer had to cover him with heating pads and thick blankets to get him to stop shaking.
Still, that had been a little over eighteen hours ago, so that probably wasn’t it.
Maybe it was just another side affect of his time with the GiW.
Overuse of his ghostly wail, he had realized earlier, was the reason that he had lost his voice permanently. Maybe he had accidentally used his ice too many times the same way, and now his body was irrevocably changed. Maybe warmth was just another tiny privilege he had taken for granted, that had now been lost forever.
Danny stared down at his hands.
Maybe his body had just given up entirely on keeping him warm, on pretending to be human.
“Kid, you alright? We’re almost there.”
Derringer’s voice snapped Danny out of his thoughts.
“Yeah,” Danny signed, “just tired. And cold.”
“We’ve got to get you a jacket, kid,” Derringer said, “it’s not even winter and I already have to worry about you freezing to death.”
“I died a long time ago, it’s fine.”
“No,” one of the other men in the truck drawled, “it means you’ve got to be extra careful. You’ve got a second chance at living, so you better not screw it up.”
“What did he say?”
“Danny thinks that because he’s died before, he doesn’t need to worry about freezing to death.”
The truck went quiet for a few moments. Most of the guys in there didn’t know he had died before. He didn’t exactly like to advertise the fact.
“I have a cousin who had a heart attack, and it only made his heart worse,” one of the guys near the front of the truck offered.
“See, kid?” Derringer said, “I’m right. As soon as this is over, you’re getting a jacket.”
Danny crossed his arms, slumping over in his seat with a huff.
A few moments later, a loud clang echoed through the truck. Danny jolted, almost falling out of his seat.
The door opened, the driver looking at them with boredom written all over his face.
“Alright, up and at em. It’s go time,” he mumbled, smacking the door loudly for emphasis. “The sooner we’re done, the sooner we can leave.”
They all stood, hopping out of the truck and making their way to the fence line.
Danny moved his hand to the bandolier on his chest, fingers brushing against the small ecto-bombs he had attached to it.
There were five of them, their bodies made of tempered glass and black steel, and they glowed a sickly green in the night. They were designed mainly for combat; he had a few larger ones meant to blow a hole in a wall in his backpack, which was securely zipped shut.
His hand then drifted to the holster on his left side, and the ecto-gun nestled securely within it.
Most of his parents’ inventions were far too big and bulky to be practical in any real combat setting, so he had downsized them considerably. The weapon he had was modeled after a standard glock pistol, matte black paint covering the GiW white of the gun’s body.
The gun should be able to fire around fifty shots a minute without overheating, which was more than enough for Danny. Hopefully, he wouldn’t have to fire a single round tonight. However, for whatever reason, the words should and hopefully didn’t inspire much confidence in him.
Danny followed the group as they snuck up to the facility, Derringer by his side.
Originally, neither of them were going to go on the raid, but someone on the patient list had caught Danny’s eye, so he decided he would investigate in person. Derringer was just along for the ride because Mr. Cobblepot wasn’t willing to lose an asset as valuable as Danny.
Danny would make it up to the bodyguard later, he decided.
Entering Arkham was, all things considered, pretty easy. Mr. Cobblepot had connections to a few of the orderlies, and it was all too easy to convince them to “forget” a few steps in setting up the security system for the night.
However, since nothing can ever just be simple, they ran into an unexpected patrol of nightshift guards just a few minutes after all splitting up to find the rogues.
Danny and Derringer were able to take them down pretty quickly, but not before they sounded the alarms. And, according to a few guys on the comms, they weren’t the only ones to run into guards where they shouldn’t be.
“They must have changed their patrols,” Derringer huffed, spinning the pistol in his hands, “c’mon, let’s go see about freeing our good friend Victor Fries.”
Danny nodded, scampering after the man as he sprinted through the halls.
The inmates, who had woken up from the loud alarm’s continuous blaring, shouted at them from their cells. Danny’s pulse was loud in his ears, drowning everything out.
Distantly, he wondered if those guards were going to die. Maybe they were dead already.
He supposed that it didn’t really change much if they were.
Soon, they were at the cell. It was custom-built to hold Mr. Freeze, constantly kept at subzero temperatures to avoid killing him.
Derringer hefted his bag off of his back, pulling out the suit and freeze gun that Mr. Cobblepot had procured. As he did so, Danny took a few of the larger ecto-bombs and placed them on the joints of the door.
They carefully moved away, putting some distance between themselves and the door, and Danny detonated it.
The explosion was loud. It shook the entire building, the shockwave knocking Danny to the floor.
Danny brought his hand up to his safety goggles, yanking a small piece of metal shrapnel out of them and dropping it on the floor. He was dimly aware of more pieces sticking out of his kevlar suit. Derringer was similarly peppered with metal, luckily uninjured as well.
They had come from the body and mechanism of the bomb, he realized. He’d have to fix that later.
Mr. Freeze emerged from the cell a few moments later, a scowl on his face. Derringer quickly shoved the suit and freeze gun into his hands and he retreated back into the cell for a few moments, getting dressed.
“I could have died from that, you know,” he hissed. “Killed by some amateurs with shoddy explosives.”
“The Penguin sent us,” Derringer said, ignoring the man’s clear annoyance, “our getaway car is outside. If you’d come with us…”
Mr. Freeze nodded sternly.
“Hurry up, then.”
Derringer and Danny hurried out, Mr. Freeze right behind them. Then, at a certain hallway, Danny paused.
He had to check.
“Kid,” Derringer barked, “we have to go.”
Danny shook his head.
“You go,” he signed, hands trembling, “I have to check.”
“Oh, what’s the problem now?” Mr. Freeze asked, his frown more pronounced by the minute.
“Danny…” Derringer sighed, “Danny thinks his sister might be in here. He hasn’t seen her in years. It’s the whole reason he was a part of the Arkham raid, actually.”
Mr. Freeze paused for a moment.
“Well, lead the way, then,” he said, clearly regretting his words as soon as he said them. Danny just nodded, scurrying forward, the other two men close behind him.
They came to the right cell quickly. Danny looked in through the glass, and he felt a piece of himself shatter.
That was Jazz, his sister, sitting in a padded wall wearing a straightjacket and a muzzle.
She didn’t bother looking up at them as they arrived, not stirring even when Danny slammed his hands on the door to get her attention.
Shakily, he attached an ecto-bomb to the door, hoping with all his might that she wouldn’t get hurt.
The door blew open, and Danny rushed in.
Jazz’s head swiveled to look up at him, her eyes narrowed.
He slipped the goggles up and his bandanna down, exposing his face as he came to kneel beside her.
Slowly, her expression shifted to shock.
“Jazz,” he creaked, his broken vocal chords cracking painfully as he spoke, “it’s me.”
She looked at him like a deer caught in the headlights.
“Danny?”
He nodded, pulling her into a hug, careful not to let the shrapnel dig into her skin.
“I thought you were…”
“Very heartwarming,” Mr. Freeze snapped, “but now isn’t the time. We’ve got to go, now.”
Jazz nodded, leaping to her feet. Danny stood as well, slipping his mask and bandanna back on, and grabbing onto one of her arms for support.
They left the cell, Danny doing a double-take as he saw the frozen-over pathway that they had just come from. He looked to Mr. Freeze, tilting his head questioningly.
“There were guards,” he said flatly. “Now hurry up, we need to get out of here.”
Derringer grabbed the two of them, dragging them along as he sprinted through the hallways. They had to take a bit of a detour, coming out of the main entrance instead of the side one they had entered.
Unfortunately, there was an active gunfight going down.
Danny was roughly pulled behind a desk, just barely dodging a few rounds.
His hands shook as he pulled a small ecto-bomb from his bandolier, priming it and throwing it at a small grouping of night guards. They cried out as the pure ectoplasm collided with them, covering their bodies in burns.
The smell, while familiar to Danny, was still horrific.
They took a few shots off at the night guards, trying to take them down. Their group was efficient, but with the rate they were going at, it wasn’t going to be enough. Only adding to that, the gun Mr. Cobblepot had prepared for Mr. Freeze had broken after just a few uses, leaving them unable to create an ice wall.
Then, Danny heard the sound of a gun’s safety being turned off behind them, and his vision went white.
He grabbed onto Jazz and Derringer, making them intangible right as the night guard opened fire.
Waves of nausea hit him all at once and he doubled over, his vision swimming. Danny was only dimly aware of Jazz taking the guard down with a high kick right to the head, and Derringer pulling him into a protective hold.
Ignoring everything, he pulled the last of the large bombs from his bag, throwing it into the air, pulling everyone behind the desk.
The entire room went white.
Danny’s ears rung as he scrambled out from behind the reception desk, dragging Jazz with him.
Luckily, none of the hired hands on his team had gotten injured, but the guards…
Danny looked away, trying to ignore the taste of bile in his mouth.
It was fine. He was fine. Everything would be okay.
The next few minutes were a blur. He knew that he had puked only a few seconds after they had left the building, and that Derringer had picked him up afterwards, carrying him to the truck with Mr. Freeze and Jazz in tow.
Danny’s entire body was wracked with tremors, an unbearable phantom pain passing through the still-healing surgical wounds in his head and torso like lightning. He dry-heaved, shivering uncontrollably.
They drove off soon after. Luckily, no one had been left behind. Someone, probably Derringer, helped Danny rinse out his mouth and got him a bottle of water to drink, wrapping him in his jacket.
As soon as the truck doors were opened within one of Mr. Cobblepot’s safehouses, Danny became aware of the sound of wailing.
Hopping out of the truck, most of his mind still far away, he saw a man being rolled out of the room on a stretcher. He was one of the people who had been on the other truck, Danny realized.
Beside him was a teenager, probably only a few years younger than Danny, who was screaming and crying uncontrollably. They wailed at Mr. Cobblepot, who only stood there with an uncomfortable expression on his face.
“Oh shit,” Derringer breathed. Danny pulled on his sleeve, tilting his head at him questioningly.
“The guy on the stretcher, that’s his sibling.”
Danny just stared, a hollow feeling deep in his chest.
Jazz, her arms now freed from the straightjacket, pulled him away from the scene. Danny let her.
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luck-of-the-drawings · 2 months
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"And soda; runs off into the street..." "...and soda... is totally okay!"
#jrwi fanart#jrwi show#jrwi suckening#cw blood#something something cracking open a boy w the cold ones#IF THERE ARE ANY MISTAKES I MISSED I SWWWEAR TO JEBEDIAH. IF I STARE AT THIS ANYMORE IM GONNA DIE IT NEEDS TO BE DONE#ALSO RRRAAAHAHHHGHGH CAN I JUST TAKEA SECOND TO SCREEAAMM ABT HOW MUCH I LOVE SODA AND EMIZEL.. LIKE THERYE SO CUTE....#THEY ARE HOMIES THAT KISS EACHOTHR GOODNIGHT. THEY CARE SO MUCH FOR EACHOTHER. SODA LOVES SODA AND SODA LOVES YOU#do u guys remember how willing he was to share blood w his vampire bestie. like cmon. remember when emizel memorized sodas Soda Schedule.#LIKE CMON.... they just have eachothers backs so much. ouhhh my god... ANYWAY SO THE ART HUH. I FEEL LIKE I SCRAMBLED W IT FOR A WHILE#DRAWIN IS HARD..... i think i did well in the end tho.. i like the lil heart beat effects. and i hope i made soda look Suffieciently Scared#i ALSO had fun w the teeth. i however did not have fun w the walls. if i had more drugs i mightve done every brick in more detail#but i didnt WANNA!!!! this will suffice.I HOPE IT FLOWS WELL&THAT ITS CLEAR... IVE STARED AT IT SO LONG IT IS NOW VISUAL SOUP. HELP!!!#i want my comics to have more Pauses and Space and Thought and Momence. i feel like normally they go so fast. but THIS time#i think i did good.... huuoouhhhh.... comics are HARD art is HARD but i am HARDER. or something. OH YEAH I HAVE MORE ART THINGS#soda was RLY HARD FOR ME TO DRAW FOR A MINUTE..but i like where his design is now. i wanted his hair to be curly swirly.like soda fizz#i THINK thats all my thoughts for now. if u have thoughts u should spill them in the tags i looooove reading tttaaggsss#have a goodnight i gotta go to work soon. maybe. unless the casinos power goes out AGAIN. OR SEOMTHING... UUGHHH MY SCHEDULE IS IN SHAMBLES#I THOUGHT I WAS WORKIN 3 DAYS INA ROW SO I RENTED A WHOLE DAMN HOTEL BC THE JOB PLACE IS FAR AWAY.. I HAD TO CANCEL THE WHOLE RESERVATOn#annd im MMMMAD ABOUT IT!!! like ill get over it ofc BUT IM PEEVED!!!! IM INCONVIENIENCED AND GENTLY AGGRIVATED. BUT OVERALL FINE.#hope yalls weekend goes well. sleep well. if u get the chance to.
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kingkatsuki · 4 months
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Bakugou groans when the fast food worker does a double take of him waiting in line at the Drive-Thru, the McDonald’s on the outskirts of Central Musutafu the only place open after two am.
He probably should’ve changed out of his hero costume before turning up to the restaurant, but when he received a call from you just before the end of his shift he knew it was an emergency. The adorable, sleepy lilt to your voice had him dropping everything in favour of sourcing nuggets in the early hours.
Only his pregnant wife could coax him away from his regular commute to pick up something that should satiate the cravings, thankful that somewhere was still open so he didn’t have to disappoint you with something from the local kombini.
Sending you a tired selfie with the bag safely in the passengers seat before making his way home to you🥺
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poorly-drawn-mdzs · 11 months
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This is not my beautiful cultivation partner.
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sensitiveheartless · 1 year
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bonefall · 5 months
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while i do agree with the sentiment that bloodclan should be more nuanced as an entity i still believe it is wrong to portray them as the necessary "response" to clan injustice (haven't read the books in years but i am pretty sure that bloodclan started with no connection to the clans) / an opposition to the clan's flaws. some of the thing scourge did was out of selfishness and bloodclan isn't the other colour of the black and white debacle with the clans. the clans are heavily flawed yes, but it isn't realistic to completely say that their structure had no redeeming qualities altogether and that all outsider groups is fundamentally better than the clans.
all clans and groups are flawed in their own way and i believe we shouldnt brush past the things that other groups (the sisters and what they do with their toms *cough cough*) did solely to be able to degrade the clans and their culture.
Buddy, you're setting up a strawman. I promise you that if you look into the reduxes I've made of BloodClan, Guardians, The Sisters, and the Tribe, you will see that I don't make any of them a "flawless" alternative to Clan life.
Nor do I say that the Clans have no redeeming qualities. In fact, you can browse the "Clan Culture" tag to see the various expansions I've made to show how these traditions, values, and technological advances make Clan life so alluring.
The overarching theme of BB is that the nature of culture is change. For better AND for worse.
With respect, I think there's something insidious in the wording of "the things the other groups did." We're talking about fan responses to a work that consistently demonizes and degrades foreigners to make the Clans look like the "best way to live," justifying xenophobia. These are not real groups, they are writing choices.
In the franchise with some pretty extreme examples of misogyny, the authors said "What if bizarro world where women rule and have no men... woag..." and only includes a single Clan-alligned member of this culture, with a BAD opinion of them, who can't even do his diplomatic job because he HATES them so much.
In the same franchise that shows Fireheart getting bullied, facing prejudice, and fighting a murderous tyrant who publically executes a mixed-race character, their endgame villain is an outsider, like him, but this one IS a godless heathen who HATES love and friendship and banned families.
In the VERY same franchise which made its first non-malicious group barely able to get through an arc without needing to be saved by Clan cats, totally unable to defend themselves, framed as "whiny" for not wanting their clearly 'inferior' culture to be forcefully changed.
And I'm re-stating all this because, again, no offense to you in particular Anon, but I've been seeing a few people with a sentiment like yours lately. Complaints into a vacuum that don't make targeted critique of anyone's fanworks, gesturing at this broad "woobification" which is apparently out there somewhere over the rainbow, saying things like "well Scourge is selfish" or "well Moonlight abandoned her 13 year old" as if we haven't BEEN knew.
As if we're not all directly responding to these choices. As if I haven't written ESSAYS on this topic.
Since this was about BloodClan in particular though, and you admit you haven't read the books in years, please go back and actually read Rise of Scourge before trying to make critique of the ways fanon rewrites its origin. It's EXPLICITLY a response to the Clans, in the text, that the Erins wrote, it is canon that fanon is working with.
And you want people to take that out and approach it a different way... why? Because it's so incredulous to you that a nation forms in response to a threatening neighbor? That a common enemy through invasions is a way that people might choose to unite, and encourage their new culture to value brutality? Because you don't like the idea of Clan Culture's XENOPHOBIC BATTLE CULTURE affecting surrounding communities??
Could YOU, maybe, be doing this "woobification" thing I keep hearing about? Can I play this stupid game too? What's our stupid prize? Can it be a lollipop? Do we get stickers
TL;DR, ok.
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arsenicflame · 1 year
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stede is 'oh this place has something related to my interest i must go in immediately' autistic and izzy is 'if we deviate one inch from my plan for today i will murder someone' autistic
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aioliravioli-69 · 15 days
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This one was a long time coming (a.k.a. since I found out about 'Duolingo on ice') so I started looking into it and I found this!
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This pose
This pose specifically was MADE for Buddy!!
I couldn't resist
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Buddy being a dramatic bastard
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you know the contrast between how Vergil is presented vs thinking too hard about Vergil’s story is pretty funny. Man’s reputation is this iconic badass, the pinnacle of what video game rivalries can be, the coolest guy to play as, the guy who breaks every game he’s added to,
and then you go to the story and like. man’s lost his free will and autonomy at 19 and then came back a fractured man half of which was a lovecraftian eye beast the other half of which was a chronically ill goth man. and then he reunites and hes in like his 40s now I believe but legit the last time he was actually in a game where he wasn’t being mind controlled when he was 19 which is both sad but also thinking about how this guy who’s considered one of the top badasses of gaming has never really lived life outside of being a teenager.
Anyways this is the secret comedic potential of post DMC5 for Vergil because not only has the human world probably changed a fair bit in terms of technology, if he’s sticking around Dante he’s gonna actually have to learn in depth how taxes and grocery shopping work. Amazing.
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wikiangela · 4 months
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wip wednesday
tagged by @steadfastsaturnsrings @malewifediaz @buckaroosheart 💖💖
how did the "fluffy decorating christmas tree fic" turn into eddie being nostalgic about shannon? no idea lmao but I love it haha (also, lowkey a tease for alive shannon bc this hypothetical is what ends up happening there haha) this fic would've been done already if I didn't get sick bc now i'm barely awake at all times and just so fucking tired lol i should finish it next week at the latest tho! (if Eddie doesn't take over and make it super long again haha)
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And Buck knows all that, because he knows Eddie so well, and Eddie- Eddie just loves him so much sometimes it gets overwhelming, just the sheer amount of love he has for this man, who’s currently looking at him with those gorgeous, understanding eyes. And he can’t do anything else but lean in and kiss his pretty pink lips.
“I know.” he whispers, smiling, blinking away tears. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.” Buck chuckles quietly. Then Eddie looks at Christopher again.
“It’s just hard sometimes, especially during the holidays. She should be here. With Chris.”
“She really should.” Buck wraps one hand around Eddie’s shoulders.
“I think she’d like you.” Eddie muses, leaning his head against Buck’s. “You guys would get along.” He really thinks so, and he also thinks that even if the accident didn’t happen and she didn’t die, he’d eventually give her the divorce she asked for, and inevitably date Buck anyway – he doesn’t think there’s any universe, any scenario, any path he’d take, where he and Buck don’t end up falling in love. If he believed in it, he’d say it’s fate or destiny or some shit like that. (Maybe he does believe, just in this one instance, but no one has to know).
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no pressure tags: @elvensorceress @gaydiaz @diazass @thebravebitch @silentxxsoul @shortsighted-owl @eddiebabygirldiaz @arthursdent @911onabc @spagheddiediaz @housewifebuck @rogerzsteven @watchyourbuck @honestlydarkprincess @underwater-ninja-13 @eowon @loserdiaz @evanbegins @ladydorian05 @pirrusstuff @theotherbuckley @911-on-abc @wildlife4life @fortheloveofbuddie @nmcggg @diazpatcher @jesuisici33 @lover-of-mine @giddyupbuck @exhuastedpigeon @king-buckley @disasterbuckdiaz @monsterrae1 @thewolvesof1998 @hoodie-buck @spotsandsocks @jeeyuns @daffi-990 @callmenewbie @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @jamespearce9-1-1 @weewootruck @hippolotamus @spotsandsocks
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