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#late night stress writing
flamingpudding · 4 months
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Guys it's just merch
Danny watched with a smile hidden behind his mug of hot cocoa his new family. Originally he was only going to mess with them a little, since he wanted to keep his civilian live he gained with them but at the same time wanted to kind of provoke them to tell him about their night time jobs on their own.
Not like he could just flat out tell them he knew about their vigilantes lifes and that would be embarrassing to explain.
It's not every day that Danny's powers fluked on him, but with the stress of the past months, it happened. Right at a moment, he had to be clumsy and trip over his own feet and accidentally phased through a grandfather's clock, finding a hidden passage. Well at least he learned that way that Batman hadn't placed him with some other rich fruitloop that wasn't his godfather but well... with Batman himself and his family out of mask.
Yeah no, he did not want to explain that and hoped they would do that themselves. But apparently, they took Danny's statement of wanting a normal life a bit too serious.
Which brought him back to his current entertainment in the form of messing with his siblings.
"I don't get what the problem is guys. It's just merch." He chuckled slightly at the face Damian was making. While Jason chose to kick Tim under the table.
"Soooo how much merch on Red Robin do you have with this shirt now?" Dick asked instead with a bright smile, Danny still hadn't figured out how to tell what emotion he hid behind them sometimes.
"I think this is my third shirt of him." Danny mused, placing his cup back on the table and tapping his lip in a thinking motion. "Though I was going to pick up a couple of custom-made jackets of Red Hood and a Nightwing plush later today."
He acted like he did not hear the triumph like hiss of 'yes' from Jason as well as the very upset huff of Damian.
He just grinned at the amusement about how they apparently were competing over how much merch he owned of each of them.
When he found a Robin figure and several Robin pins mysteriously placed on his desk the next morning, he broke out laughing. Yet still just to mess with them gushed about his newly gotten merch to his family while sharing a knowing look with Alfred who knew he was just messing with them.
If there was a surprising amount of Batman merch, suddenly mixed into what he already owned the following week without his knowledge. Well, he wasn't going to complain about free stuff.
But he still would get a good laugh out of their reactions on the day he decided to full on dawn every piece of Batman merge instead of theirs.
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luxaofhesperides · 3 months
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Can I please have meet cute/weird with mistaken villain! Danny (but really just a engineer and or chem student) and the one being put on investigation cause Danny is a day villain(not really)! Duke
Technically, Danny Fenton is innocent. Technically. 
Duke wants to give him the benefit of the doubt, especially since he’s having so much trouble finding solid evidence that Danny is stealing from a wide variety of people, but he’s been burned before by trying to see people as better than they were. It doesn’t change the fact that Oracle’s cameras keep spotting Danny right before a building on the street is broken into and something stolen. He’s always just walking down the sidewalk; no one has spotted him entering or exiting a building, but he’s around far too often to be unconnected to these burglaries. 
It doesn’t help that strange, petty crimes have been on the rise since Danny first arrived in Gotham. 
So.
Danny Fenton is technically innocent.
Duke is trying to prove that he’s not. 
Maybe I’m looking too closely, he thinks, going over Danny’s sparse file in the Hatch. Maybe Danny’s only one person in a bigger operation.
He could just be the lookout, the runner, the information gatherer who marks which buildings to hit. He may even be the scapegoat, the sacrificial lamb; Danny has no support in Gotham, no family, no job. There would be no one to help him if he got arrested or injured in a fight. He’s a freshman college student from Illinois who should be unprepared for life in Gotham but is somehow managing to survive like a native. 
There’s a lot about Danny that doesn’t add up. 
Duke has seen plenty of different people since he first went out as the Signal. He’s tried to be kind and give people the benefit of the doubt, but it leads to his loved ones being put in danger. Some people are truly evil, some working on a malicious agenda, some are misguided in their beliefs, and some are desperate people who see no other way to move forward.
He’s not sure yet which on Danny is, but he’s hoping Danny is just desperate and needs a little help to get out of a life of crime.
Which leads to the next problem: Duke has no idea what Danny is steal, or why. He hits both rich and poor folks, civilians and members of the mob, and once, notably, stole something right out of Cobblepot’s office. Allegedly, at least, since no one saw him enter or exit the office, not even the security cameras. 
But added to the whispers going around about a new group in Gotham snatching people up from the streets, and some strange green substances found in warehouses often raided by police for the frequent drug labs that pop up in them… 
It doesn’t look good for Danny. Especially when a few of the items he stole were found where people either vanished or where that green substance has been found.
A week of analysis in the Batcave and they still don’t know what it is. 
Both Damian and Jason suspected Lazarus water, but the composition was completely different. By the look of the molecular structure, it shouldn’t have been in a liquid form at all. 
All these findings lead back to one person who may have answers: Danny Fenton.
According to Tim, who’s already broken into Danny’s dorm room and checked over all the labs he has classes in, Danny has some concerning items in his possession. Various inventions and little metal knick-knacks put together by a practiced hand. He was also the one to find all the information that went into Danny’s file when it was first being made: social media posts, school report cards, news articles about his parents… everything. 
And then he had an emergency mission to take with the Titans that swept him out of Gotham leaving Duke to tackle this investigation on his own. 
He doesn’t have Tim’s natural skill in stalking and invading privacy. He hates breaking into people’s spaces and following them around, but needs must and he has to force himself to work through the discomfort. 
It’s a good thing he did, too. Danny’s leaving his dorm after his last afternoon class, hood up to hide his face and something held in the front pocket of his hoodie. He ducks around people on the sidewalk easily, almost as if he’s gliding through the crowd instead of walking. 
Duke follows from above, bending the light around him to hide him from sight. 
He walks for some time, weaving through alleys and streets as if he’s been in Gotham his whole life, leaving behind the university campus to head towards Otisberg. There’s something strange about the way Danny walks, as if he’s moving around people who aren’t there, guided by something Duke can’t hear. Even using his meta abilities doesn’t do much beyond show him where Danny’s going to be in the next few seconds. 
He continues to follow Danny on the rooftops, walking along the edge to keep him in sight. 
Then Danny stops behind an apartment building and tilts his head back to look up at it. He tilts his head to the side, then nods and looks around the empty alley. Duke crouches down, keeping his eyes on Danny in the hopes of catching him in the act—
Danny disappears.
Duke curses under his breath and jumps down from the roof, putting more strength into his abilities as soon as his feet touch the ground. 
The space where Danny was has a faint outline, oddly enough. He’s never seen that before. From it is a semi-transparent trail, smoke-like and a pale green leading into the building. It goes straight into a wall, as if Danny walked through it.
He can’t go in and search the entire apartment, but he can grapple up and take a look into the hallways to see where Danny’s heading. If he was looking up, then that’s where he should be heading. 
It doesn’t take any effort to scale the building. There are ledges and windowsills and plenty of handholds for him to propel himself off of, and paired with his powers, Duke is able to find the correct floor in just under two minutes. 
The green smoke slowly dances through the air of the ninth floor, on the east side of the building. If he’s been counting the rooms correctly, then the target of tonight’s burglary has to be apartment 924. 
The curtains are drawn on the window he makes his way over to, and his abilities don’t show him anything helpful for the immediate future. He hates going in blind, especially to a civilian’s home, but capturing Danny takes priority. Duke picks the lock and slides the window up slowly, making sure it stays quiet, then slips into an empty bedroom. 
He makes his way out into the hallway on silent feet, keeping a wary eye on the thin smoke strands of green, curling along the walls. The rest of the apartment is empty as well, pale sunlight slanting across the floor through the blinds. 
Everything is still and silent. Danny’s nowhere to be found. 
Did he miss Danny leaving, somehow? Was this a misdirect to get him out of the way while Danny stole from another location? Did he know Duke was following him?
But no, his ears pick up on the faint sound of clothes rustling. 
Cautiously, Duke turns towards the front door, where the door to the coat closet is open. He focuses on what’s going to happen in the next twenty seconds and sees Danny panic, then disappear from sight again, but a transparent outline of his body is visible just enough to show him where he runs to. Best not to spook him; Duke pulls at the light around him and bends it to hide him from sight.
Then he moves along the wall, getting around the open door without bumping into anyone or anything. 
A figure in front of the coats, shoving them to the side roughly, flickers in and out of view, almost like a reflection in water, distorted by ripples on the surface. 
Danny pops back into visibility suddenly, scowling at the coats. “Are you sure it’s in here?” he asks the empty air. 
There is no answer, but Danny acts like there is. He rolls his eyes and says, “It’s a favor. That I’m doing for you. I can literally stop right now and you wouldn’t be able to stop me.” He shoves aside another heavy winter coat, then sighs. “Why don’t you look for it, and then tell me where it is.”
He steps back and bumps into Duke.
Danny whirls around, eyes wide, and blast of green light has Duke crashing back into the wall, trying to blink spots out of his eyes. 
“Wait!” he yells, grabbing for Danny before he can run off. “I just wanna talk!”
“Standing right behind me like a serial killer does not make you look like someone who wants to talk!” Danny yells back, slipping through his hands like mist. 
“I just have a few questions!”
“Well, I have a question: why?!”
“Will you hold still, we’re being too loud!”
Danny escapes to the other side of the apartment, next to a window looking fully prepared to fling himself out of it. But he does stop yelling, so Duke is counting it as a success.
“Why is the Signal coming after me?” Danny asks, glaring at him suspiciously.
“Dude,” Duke says, “You’ve been seen outside of every single building that’s had a burglary since you first arrived in Gotham. All the Bats are after you, they just sent me because I’m the only one active during the day.”
“All the Bats?” Danny repeats, losing what little color he had in his face.
He looks legitimately scared, pale enough to be concerning, and Duke drops his guard and tries to relax the tension in the apartment. “I’m not gonna turn you into the cops or anything. I just had questions and you seem like the most likely person to have answers. That’s it.”
Danny still looks wary, ready to run at a moment’s notice, but he doesn’t leave when Duke approached casually, leaning his weight against the couch. 
“So,” he begins, “What’s the deal with all the thievery? It’s rarely something super rare or expensive.”
There’s a long few minutes where Danny doesn’t answer, looking anywhere but at Duke. Then he twitches a bit and glares off to the side, and says, “I taking items that are contaminated with ectoplasm to help ghosts move through the veil and leave Gotham.”
That tells him nothing! That just gives Duke more questions! But at least it’s an answer, the first one any of them have got.
“I think you’re gonna have to explain a little more.”
“Ghosts are real, alright?”
“Yes.”
Danny stops. Squints at him. “What do you mean, ‘yes’?”
“Ghosts are real,” Duke repeats, “There are a few who help heroes or are heroes themselves, but that’s more on the magic side of things so I’m not super familiar with it.”
“Magic,” Danny says slowly. “Sure, alright. Um. Yes, ghosts are real. And there are a ton in Gotham who need help moving on, but they’re too weak to get past the veil. Something about Gotham has made the veil super strong, so they need a little boost to get through. Additional ectoplasm bonded helps with that.”
“And that’s why you’re stealing random things?”
“The ghosts I help can kind of sense ectoplasm-infused things, but they need me to grab them since they can’t hold anything without a physical body.”
Duke nods slowly. “Okay, that’s starting to answer some things. We have found those objects in the last places missing people were seen. Any idea what’s going on with that?”
“Yeah, those people were already dead.”
The way Danny says the most concerning answers as if they’re nothing is really throwing Duke off his game. He was expecting to be calm and serious to keep Danny from freaking out too much and look like a legitimate hero. But as soon as Danny started talking, all his nerves fell away and Duke is left grasping for composure. 
“They were…”
“They were ghosts, yeah. And they needed to get through the veil. But they were also able to possess their own bodies and didn’t realize they were dead until I had to break the news to them, which is why it looks like living people just up and disappeared.”
“Okay… What about the green stuff we’ve been finding?”
“Ectoplasm.” Danny holds up a hand and a neon green light surrounds it. Except it looks more solid than light, as if it can be touched, and it moves on its own like fire around Danny’s fingers. “It’s what ghosts are made of.”
Oh. If Danny has ectoplasm, does that mean…
“Are you dead?” Duke asks, heart dropping. 
Instead of looking upset about the question, or even disturbed by it, Danny just shrugs and waves his hand back and forth. “A little.”
“Okay, so let me get this straight,” Duke says, trying to resist the urge to rub his temples. It’s a habit he didn’t mean to pick up from Batman, and it would just look silly with his helmet in the way. “You’re just doing all this to help ghosts?”
“Yeah. Basically. They asked for help man, of course I was going to help them.”
Danny’s a good person. He’s just a good person to ghosts. But this is good news either way, and he can let the others know that Danny isn’t the next Catwoman and is entirely unconnected from any drug production. Everything that made him look like a criminal is just the fault of ghosts. 
“Speaking of,” Danny continues, “Looks like they found what they need, so I’m going to grab that real quick.” He pushes off of the wall and heads for the closet again, moving past Duke without any fear. Duke follows, keeping a few feet of distance between them so Danny doesn’t feel trapped, and watches as he shoves aside the coats again and pulls a shoebox out of the depths of the closet. From it, he takes a single intricate lace headband and holds it up.
It looks normal, if a little old, but when Danny sends ectoplasm through it, the lace lights up and holds the glow. 
He pulls some strange contraption out of his pocket and holds it up to the headband. It makes a few beeps, then Danny mutters, “7.4 millisieverts. That’s enough to get you through the veil.”
Another concern Duke can let go of: Danny’s not creating weapons like his parents have, he’s just measuring ectoplasm through his own inventions. 
Maybe he could talk to Bruce or Tim about getting Danny an internship at the R&D lab in Wayne Enterprises? That way they could keep a closer eye on him while seeing what he can create in some of the best laboratories in the country.
Well, it might take having them meet Danny before they trust him enough for that, but Duke is sure he can make it happen. 
“I better go see this through, then,” Danny says, shoving the contraption back into his hoodie pocket. He gives Duke a small awkward wave, then pops out of visibility. “I’ll see you around, I guess?” he disembodied voice hedges, and Duke smiles.
“I’m sure I’ll be able to find you again.”
“Cool. I gonna go now!” 
He doesn’t see any sign that Danny’s left, but he gets a feeling that he’s alone now, the apartment suddenly emptier than it was before. 
As strange and concerning as Danny and all his bizarre actions were, Duke is glad he was able to finally talk to him and get some answers. Knowing how Gotham pulls people him in, it’s only a matter of time before the other Bats are exposed to Danny’s kind of strange. He’s already looking forward to it. 
For now, though, he has a file to update in the Hatch; POTENTIAL THREAT will be removed and replaced with GHOST HELPER. 
If anyone goes snooping into his files and gets confused, then that’s their problem. Duke’s explained enough. And Danny can take care of the rest, once they go through the effort of tracking him down. Duke's done his part, he's ready for the rest of them to step up to his level.
He can’t wait to see what other kind of trouble Danny can get it into.
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snowangeldotmp3 · 18 days
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what was i made for?
part one: i used to know, but i'm not sure now (what i was made for)
summary:
Nancy Wheeler dies on a cold November night in the gym of Hawkins Middle. She dies with three simple words. Gone. Gone. Gone.
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kazoo-goddess · 7 months
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So, I've wanted to make a post like this for some time, but I only just got the motivation because of an ask I got recently. I want to give a piece of advice to everyone, in general, to keep in mind when using any social media platform--advice that I wish someone had given me way back when, that I feel is important to pass on:
Not every post you see is for you. Not every post is about you.
This is not meant to be a negative thing, or a put-down! It is not meant to dismiss anyone. It's really what it says on the tin: When you see a post cross your feed, and you disagree with the post or it upsets you because you disagree with the message it has, try and keep in mind that you may not be the target audience for the post. In particular, take this into account for advice and positivity posts--The OP doesn't have anything against you personally when they share words that are meant to be uplifting that you don't agree with. A post that says "Keep going! You can do it, even if you think you can't!" probably isn't meant to put down people who are in a position where they very literally cannot do it or think their way out of their situations. Like this post, it's more likely that the OP is sharing positivity or advice that they themselves would have liked to hear.
Even this post, the one I'm writing now, might not be for you or about you! If you disagree with my viewpoint, that's okay, and there's nothing wrong with that! But I, personally, am writing this post for people who might need to hear it--people like me, who are easily upset or hurt by things they see or hear in passing, whether on the internet or real life. I'm not writing it because I want to spark an argument, I promise.
Posts aren't always meant to spread outside the OP's original circle of followers and friends. But that's a hazard of posting to public social media websites--a joke originally meant to have an audience of 12 people close to you can suddenly explode, getting thousands and thousands of views and reposts and going completely out of the OP's control overnight! It's no one's fault; it's not done maliciously. Sometimes a post or joke just resonates with others. But maybe it doesn't resonate with you--that really is okay! Just try and remember, if it gets under your skin, that it isn't for you. And if it's not for you, it's okay to just ignore it and move on! It can definitely get annoying when it's something you keep seeing over and over from friends and acquaintances reposting it, and I'd never fault anyone for losing their temper over it--but sometimes, just taking a second to remind yourself that you weren't the audience for something can really help calm you down and help you feel better and move on with your day.
While this goes for advice/positivity posts, it also goes for opinion posts! And in this case, to be completely, perfectly clear: I mean harmless opinions. A ship they like that you don't; a tv show they enjoyed that you didn't; a character they really love that you absolutely cannot stand. The kind of opinion you disagree with so much that makes you feel absolutely steaming mad. (Again: This does NOT extend to these things when they go into a genuinely harmful category. No homophobia, no pedophilia, nothing like that. I am talking about harmless, mundane disagreements.)
Maybe you see a post talking positively about a manga that makes you feel ick. The OP more than likely didn't write that post with the hopes that it would reach you specifically just to make you upset! (And if they did, that's rude, and an entirely different can of worms that this post is not about! >_>;) But the post upsets you anyway, even if it wasn't MEANT to. It's understandable, it happens! But the thing is: You don't need to engage with that post if it makes you feel bad! If you have a post blocker, you can block the post or blacklist the tag; if you don't, you may just have to scroll past. It can be so, so, so tempting to try and get in a biting comment in the replies to snap at the OP and tell them, "No, you're wrong, your opinion makes me mad and I don't want to hear it!" Trust me. I know. I get it, because I've been there! But in the grand scheme of things, it's not worth it or healthy to burn yourself out over it. It wasn't for you, and it wasn't about you! And you're better off doing what you can to take care of yourself, and preserving your health and happiness where you can.
I feel like I'm writing this with sort of childish language, and it might feel like I'm talking down to others. But really, I think I'm just writing it in a way that a younger me would have understood and taken to heart if she'd seen it. I hope that, if you read this, you can see it that way too! There's a part of me that feels scared that this post in itself could explode with notes that will be very upset with me for my thoughts on this, whatever their reasons may be, but I wouldn't be making it if I weren't prepared for that possibility. If the message I intend to get out can reach even one person who it can help, then I think that's worth writing it for. Because, I want to reiterate it one more time, because it can be so easy to forget it and get yourself furious in a self-destructive way, sometimes you have to remember:
Not every post you see is for you! Not every post is about you!
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good-beanswrites · 6 months
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Could you write a drabble for Mikoto and Shidou plus Blood? This request miiight be inspired by the fact that Mikoto mentions his body hurting a lot but doesn't seem to be receiving any medical treatment, either because Mahiru and Fuuta take priority or because there's no obvious cause, and therefore cure, to his pain...
👀👀👀 Thank you, this is such a good combo ough!! It's so interesting how much focus the others get when it comes to physical health, since Mikoto has clearly complained of his condition :( It looks like Milgram is trying to push the idea that he's completely oblivious to his alters, but I spun it where he's aware, just deep in denial. So have some Mikoto angst to get us hyped for Double!
Mikoto should be grateful. He was lucky. That’s what he kept repeating to himself. He had both of his eyes intact. Both his arms. He was strong enough to walk around freely. He wasn’t on the verge of death, or collapse. Thus, he should be grateful no one was offering him any help, because it meant he didn’t need it. He repeated it again. Maybe this time he would believe it.
With a groan, his body rolled out of bed. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d woken up actually feeling rested. Everything ached. His muscles tightened with soreness. His throat felt as raw as his knuckles, though he hadn’t been using either. He had no desire to lift his arms over his head, or twist around too much, so he didn’t change out of yesterday’s uniform. Maybe the belts and buckles had made it difficult to sleep. The theory wasn’t a convincing one, but dwelling on things like that had never gotten him anywhere.
He ran his fingers once through his hair, combing out a bit of the mess. Looking in a mirror was the last thing he needed. He made his way to the dining hall. 
The others trickled in for breakfast. His appetite, at least, hadn’t suffered. He hardly noticed the others giving him wide-eyed stares. What were they expecting? Of course he was looking worse for wear, given the circumstances. He ignored them, glad to focus on the hot meal before him.
A hand weighed heavy on his shoulder.
“Mikoto,” Shidou’s voice may have remained calm, but it was urgent. “Do you need some help?”
“Huh?” He shrugged his hand away, offering a weak smile. “I’m fine! Oh, I think Kazui was saving a seat for you over there, if you --”
“-- How about we go to my cell for a moment? Or yours, if that would be more comfortable.”
What was everyone’s problem this morning? Mikoto did his best to keep his voice pleasant. “Really, man, I’m good.” 
Shidou’s expression remained unmoving. Very carefully, he informed him, “you’re bleeding. Pretty badly by the look of it. You’re coming with me.” 
Mikoto blinked. He looked over his shoulder, following Shidou’s gaze. The back of his uniform was torn across the center. A significant splotch of blood seeped into the material, growing even larger as he shifted to see it. 
“...Oh…” 
Back in Shidou’s cell, sad to have left his breakfast plate behind, he slumped into a chair. Shidou gathered together some supplies. As always, he got right to the point. “What happened?”
“I… I’m not sure. I don’t remember anything from last night. I don’t remember most nights, recently. I know that sounds crazy, but…”
“It’s fine. I have definitely heard crazier.” He smiled, something gentle and reassuring. As usual, there was something hidden behind his eyes. It was as if he already knew what Mikoto was up to late at night that earned him so much soreness the following days. He didn’t offer an explanation, though. Mikoto didn’t press him for one.
He winced as he was helped out of his uniform. Removing his shirt revealed the mysterious gash. Shidou’s eyes widened at the array of scratches and scars. Some were fresh, but most originated long before Milgram. Though he didn’t ask, Mikoto answered.
“I’m pretty clumsy, huh?” Maybe this time he would believe it. 
Shidou was kind enough to pretend to. “Here, allow me…”
Shidou got to work cleaning and dressing the injuries. Mikoto closed his eyes. Even though the disinfectant stung, and sometimes those gloved fingers pressed a little two hard, it felt nice to have things patched up. 
“Is there anything else going on? Are you feeling pain anywhere else?”
Mikoto could have laughed. He didn’t. “I’m just sore. And my head’s been killing me, but I’m used to migraines. Perks of the verdict, I’m sure.”
Shidou hummed in thought. 
“Thanks, by the way. I’ll try to be more careful.” Not that he had much choice in the matter, it seemed. But he’d do his best. 
Shidou kept his face straight, but there were traces of pain in his voice. “I will too. I’m sorry, Mikoto. If I had known… I’ve been distracted lately, but I should have paid closer attention.”
“It’s fine,” he flashed a grin. “I know the others are pretty fucked up. And I’m not dying or anything. I’m lucky, you know?”
“I wouldn’t say so. Doctors don’t only treat the dying.”
Mikoto frowned. 
It didn’t take much longer to finish treatment. Shidou gave him a few instructions about the bandages, then offered him a clean shirt. “You’re good to go. I’ll be checking in more often, now. I’ll see if I can find something for your head.” 
“Thanks. Really.”
He returned Mikoto’s torn uniform. “You should talk to Es about getting a new one. Until then, you’ll want to clean this with --”
Mikoto waved a dismissive hand, heading out of the cell. “Don’t worry, I know how to wash blood out of my clothes. Er, that sounds bad. I’m just a clutz, yeah? The blood’s always been my own.”
Maybe this time he would believe it.
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tvrningout-a · 10 months
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time for another lil inbox call!! tap the heart, specify some muses, and i'll toss a few things in your inbox!
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breitzbachbea · 6 days
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Tagged for heads up seven up by @borisyvain (who you should all follow for his 18th century OC shenanigans). Thank you!
Technically 7 Lines (okay, 7 paragraphs) from the last Irish Problems chapter I edited. The Sicilian twins, Paddy and Charlie are gearing up to get their kidnapped friends back and Paddy has to justify his dislike of firearms.
“Good.” Higgins got out of his suit jacket, Lorenzo only heard static and Marco turned to O’Neill. “How big of a gun are you comfortable handling, Signor O’Neill?” “Give me a semiautomatic pistol like Charlie, and I’ll be sound.” “Never handled a rifle or a machine gun?” Marco asked. My god, what wuzzes. If Michele only knew what he had left them to work with. A surprise that these Irishmen were still alive and confident enough to do business with them. “I have,” O’Neill replied. “But for my and your safety, a pistol will do.” “A big man like you could handle a bigger gun, though, so maybe –” Marco began. “Listen,” O’Neill interrupted him. “When I was your age, I spent my days, day in and day out, surrounded by rifles and machine guns. Always aware I could end up the wrong end of it, doesn’t matter if the wanker who carried them wore a uniform or not. I’ve had a machine gun in my hand, I’ve used shotguns. I’ve handled a rifle and I’ve handled it well enough. I don’t like being on the right end of these things either. Give me a pistol like Charlie.”
I'm tagging @foxnewsdeathcult, @ginevralinton @kitaychan and @hetaari & anyone else who wants to do it! :)
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99probalos · 1 year
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ummm Ok! last post abt this til it actually happens lol (ik ive been posting abt it a lot and i truly apologize eep)
We will be using Hyperbeam to watch Gorilla, Interrupted and Feeding Frenzy this Saturday.
please reply to this post if you didn't fill out the google form and you'd like to be sent the room link 30 minutes before we begin at 8pm!
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flowerflowerflo · 1 month
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to everyone i've ever hurt, im sorry. to everyone i've ever came across as clingy or attention seeking or rude or selfish or anything like that, i'm sorry. i feel so much its hard to manage and i genuinely mean every word i say, even when i slip up or make mistakes. im trying so hard to be better and im trying my best.
and to everyone who's ever hurt me, i forgive you, but still fuck you loser‼️🩷ur loss bae
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flamingpudding · 6 months
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I am keeping him B
A/N: Stress late night writing, while I am supposed to sleep cause I still got work tomorrow but screw my life...
It all started with the disappearance of Box Ghost, followed by Spectra. Back then, Danny didn't realize what was happening, and he still blamed himself for that. What a fine bridge of balance he was....
The next to disappear had been Elli and Danny had mobilize whatever he could to organize a search party when he lost contact. After Elli, Ember was next. Maybe by then Danny should be realized.
Dan was the next in line of disappearances. Vlad was the one making Danny aware of it. Everything Danny had mobilized in his search for Elli was extended to find Dan now, too.
Shortly after Dan, Vlad also disappeared from the face of earth. If he hadn't already be worried Danny would have been now. His events tripled, sleepless nights followed, days in which Jazz practically had to force him to sleep.
One by one all the Ghosts Danny knew disappeared. Maybe he would have realized it sooner if he had paid more attention to certain things, to the news to politics, to anything really. Maybe then Danny would be noticed the appearance of Dalv.Co and his parents invention on the black market. The sudden spike in Meta traficing following or the sudden interest in Ecto-entities.
But he hadn't...
...and that probably what was what costed him too.
Because, one day, he woke up in a dark cell, still in his Phantom transformation but with a collar around his neck. It zapped him any time he touched it or tried to let go of his ghost form. It was like a reverse of the stupid taser Vlad had. There were no mirrors or anything he could use to see himself with, but he had a feeling that collar used Fenton tech. He also realized that he was in a more eldrich kind of transformation. His hands that usually were in white gloves when in phantom form were clawed and inky black with sparks that reminded Danny of the night sky's above Amity Park. He couldn't tell if he looked anything like himself or not, but judging by his hands, probably not.
That day, when Danny woke up in that cell, he realized the reason behind the disappearances of his family and ghost rogues. Just like there was a spike in Meta trafficking, the growing interest had also developed into Ecto-Entity trafficking and worse was, they weren't even protected by law. The Anti-Ecto Acts are making it not even a real or all too big of a crime.
Months passed, and Danny learned to shut his mouth and emotions out. He thought he was even in a state disassociation, Jazz would have been proud of him for his self diagnosis, maybe. With the passing days, Danny stopped remembering who owned him and who he was forced to fight. Sometimes, his eyes came to live when he met one of his old friends in the battle rings. Tho their fights were no longer a form or bonding, it still felt nice to sometimes feel the heat of Ember's flames, the sting of Skulkers blasters or even see a box get thrown at him.
Of course, he had tried to escape or save at least one of the others before, but whoever modified his parents' inventions knew what they were doing. All his attempts were met with failure.
But then the day everything changed came. Danny didn't know how long it had been, all he knew was that a stupid clown was his current holder. The guy spouted some nonsense or wanting to see how a bat, of all animals held himself against one of the strongest ecto-entiies. Danny really wanted to refuse, yell at that fruitloop of a clown and be done with the World.
But what he didn't expect to happen that day was the shock of electricity, the ricochet of a bullet, the crack of metal... and the collar falling of his neck.
Suddenly, Danny no longer felt like he was trapped in his own body, like he was just an onlooker, but at the same time, he had never felt this tired before. He stumbled forward his body losing whatever momentum he had before. It was a single arm that saved him from faceplanting.
"Fuck! That thing was actually a kid!"
"What?!"
"I am going to fucking murder the clown."
Danny blinked slowly as he felt his awareness sliding from him, yet he still couldn't help muttering at least something before the world would go dark. "Get in line, I really hate clowns, and he is the nightmare realm fodder."
Danny felt the arm holding him shaking, and he really wanted to close his eyes and sleep, but right before he did, in fact, black out from pure exhaustion, he heard one last thing. "I don't give a fuck, B. I like this kid so I am keeping him."
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mashmouths · 5 months
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it's supposed to be 85° tomorrow are you fucking kidding me
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roachemoji · 7 months
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#bo posting#talky#ive been writing so much the last few days and as great as it iss#i miss drawing so much#i enjoy being creative and im so happy i get to do this for someone i love dearly#but DAMN i wish i could just draw#and im also stressed out because i decided i wanna keep this project private...#like im gonna delete links n posts n stuff to it i dont wanna post about it anymore#this is a gift to someone i love and i wanna keep it between us#and i aughahdkashd#i feel SHITTY like im keeping a secret#but this is special and important#Im scared that im making people jealous because i havent been very present since the whole fiasco with my medication#and the fact that my sleep schedule is far more consistent because im trying to time it be awake when my friends in later timezones#are actually online?#Which makes it harder to stay up late#like i get ready for bed at 11pm lmao#im trying so hard to spend time with everyone equally#or plan a head so i try to have movie nights or eat dinner or talk with friends before other plans if i can spare the energy#because i DONT want them to feel left out or like im prioritizing other people#but i still worry that they might feel that way and im too scared to talk about it#because theres a mountain of other fucking issues#and ive dug myself into a hole of things i havent beenable to talk about#because ive been drugged out of my mind and am only just now in this very moment realizing how present i am mentally#AHHHHHHHAJHKFSHJASKDHKJ#maintaining friendships is so fucking hard for me and i hate it so much#it shouldnt be this hard but it is!!!!!!!!!!!#i shouldnt struggle with balancing my time between people but it feels like such a task and i feel so shitty saying that#i love my friends but i feel like a bad friend
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badolmen · 5 months
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I’m beginning to think my personal high standards for myself are the enemy…
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rustycamo · 8 months
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I love the poetry that an evening shower creates after all the stress has been building up for a while.
You can blast your music and shout the lyrics tunelessly, or you could also play it loud to cover that cathartic weeping, that there's really no cause for, except intense exhaustion.
One who normally takes short showers can use up all the hot water filling the room with steam.
And once it's over you can yield to your covers, warm and clean.
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emjiroki · 2 months
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I have written in so long it felt good to write that nanami drabble
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joyeeta16 · 7 months
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A - Do you think life really changes like really changes ever?
B - Ofcourse it does all the hard time passes some day...ofcourse
A - Do you think that maybe we just forget about the things we once had sleepless nights of.....like put them in a box and bury them like if we open them it will be the same again....do we really ever heal from them?
B - Huh? I don't know. I don't
I don't wanna know
A - Hmm
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