Tumgik
#whoo! that was fun
gabetheunknown · 1 year
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I'm really curious because these foods seem to be hated ✌️ more for me
pls reblog, if it bothers you that I ask for a reblog, this is not the social media for you bitch boy. Gimme the numbers
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starry-bi-sky · 16 days
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Stuck in the middle of a forest made of
Flesh and bones and they're all scared of
A lost little boy who has lost his heart
Fear's not enough, they have to
Tear him apart —-------
There are two things Daniel Fenton knows that his family knows as well: 
He’s adopted.
He can’t remember anything else before that.  
‘Adoption’ is a loose term, implying that they went through the official legal processes and troubles of adopting a child into their home willingly, and with the full intention of doing so going into it. That is not what happened. What happened is that Jasmine Fenton found a half-dead child, in strange clothing, in the middle of the woods at her Aunt Alicia’s cabin, and then she went and got her parents. 
What happened is that a twelve year old Danny woke up in the same cabin, wearing clothes much too big on him that didn’t belong to him, and with very little memory of before that moment. He wakes up like a spring being set loose, sitting up so fast he scares the daylights out of Jasmine Fenton sitting next to him. He wakes up, reaching for his sleeve for something that isn’t there, and when it isn’t his mind stutters, like he’s tripped at the top of a steep hill. 
When they ask him for his name, he tells them, clearing muddled thoughts from his mind; Danny. He’s twelve.
(He thinks that’s his name, at least. It sounds right; it feels right. If he thinks really hard about it, he thinks he can remember someone calling him that, utter adoration in their voice. So it must be his name.) 
The Jasmine girl convinces her parents to take him home with them, and they give him the spare guest room upstairs. He has nothing to fill it with.
It’s… a strange experience, to go to a ‘new’ home when he doesn’t even remember his old one. 
The official adoption process… happens. He can’t say it’s easy, or difficult. He’s oblivious for the most of it, Jasmine intends on helping him settle in and Danny can’t say he enjoys the smothering. He learns that he is stubbornly self-independent, that’s one new thing he knows about himself. 
His adoption papers say ‘Daniel J. Fenton’. Danny remembers staring at the name ‘Daniel’ for a long, long moment, something curdling sour in his sternum. His name is Danny, that he knows. But it’s not Daniel. But he doesn’t know any other way of saying it, so he keeps his complaints to himself.
(Jack Fenton boisterously claps his hand on Danny’s shoulder and jerks him around, grinning wide as he welcomes him into the Fenton Family. Danny’s mind blanches at the touch on his shoulder, an instinct snapping like the maw of a snake, telling him to cut off the man’s fingers for daring to touch him.) 
(He keeps the thought to himself, tension rising up his shoulders the longer Jack Fenton’s heavy hand stays on him.) 
They found Danny in the summer. It’s a perfect coincidence, Maddie Fenton says before she goes back into her lab with Jack Fenton. She says it’s enough time to allow Danny to adjust; that they’ll enroll him into the school year in the fall. Then she stuffs a canister of ectoplasm onto the top shelf, and disappears like the ghosts she studies back down the stairs.  
(There’s something eerily familiar about the ectoplasm sitting in the fridge, something unsettlingly so. Danny knows what that stuff is, but he doesn’t know where. When the house is empty, he takes a can from the fridge and inspects it.)
Jazz wants him to leave the house. Danny doesn’t want to step foot outside of the FentonWorks building until he has something that quells the feeling of vulnerability he gets whenever he does. He tried to once, and he felt exposed. Unsafe. 
He turned back around and went inside.
—-------
Where do we go
When the river's running slow
Where do we run
When the cats kill one by one
—------
One day, when the house is empty — or, as empty as it can be; the Fenton parents down in the lab, and jazz out with friends. Danny is making a sandwich, and he caves into the urge to flip the knife in his hands between his fingers. A childish impulse, but one he falls for nonetheless. It comes to him easily, like second nature, in fact. The slip of the blade between his fingers is seamless, flowing with an ease like water running down the wall.  
He’s almost startled by it; his body holds memories that his mind does not. Muscles that know which way to move and twist, limbs that know how to hold and how to throw. He continues twirling it, fascinated, as if he were a scientist discovering a new species of animal. 
It’s not for a handful of minutes when a new thought hits him; an impulsive thought that pops in the back of his mind like a firecracker; Danny moves without thinking. 
He turns, and throws the knife. The pull of his shoulder, the flick of his elbow, is familiar like a hug. He knows when to let go, and the blade flies through the air in impressive speed, embedding itself into the wall with a hearty, loud thunk. Sinking into the drywall like butter. 
Danny stares at it in shock, he feels relieved — about what? — before he feels the guilt. He scrambles across the kitchen to pull it out, heart racing in his chest at being caught, and prays no one notices the hole it left behind. 
(He runs up the stairs before anyone can find him, food forgotten, and hides the knife beneath his mattress like a guilty murder weapon.)
After that, he leaves the house more. It’s more out of fear of being caught than the desire to leave. But Danny is quickly learning that among all things, he is someone who was dangerous, before he lost his memory. Even with his mind in fractures, he is still dangerous. 
He’s not sure how to feel about that — he thinks he should be scared. He feels a little proud, instead.
—------
Hazel beneath our claws
While we wait for cerulean to cry
Unsettled ticks run through time
Enough for the hunt to go awry
—-----
There’s another thing he learns about himself. That he knows about since he woke up. He knows that he left someone behind. He doesn’t know who, but he knows they must have been close; he’s always looking down and finding himself surprised when the only shadow he sees is his own. 
He thinks that he must have sung to them a lot; he finds himself humming familiar melodies when he’s lost in thought. Lullabies lingering at the tip of his tongue, an instinct to turn and sing them to someone beside him. He can’t remember the lyrics, but his mouth does, it tries to get him to say them when he’s not thinking. He can’t. 
Danny’s found himself humming under his breath more times than he can count, trying to recall whatever it is his mind is trying to claw forward. 
(“That’s a pretty song, Danny.” Jazz tells him at breakfast one day, Danny screws his mouth shut. He hadn’t realized he was humming. “What is it?”) 
(Something mean and possessive rears its head on instinct, uncoiling like a snake from its ball. His shoulders hunch defensively, he bites his cheek to prevent himself from baring his teeth. He doesn’t know what song it is, but it’s not for her. “I don’t know.”)  
He misses his person. Dearly. He knows, the longer he is without them, that they must have been close. Otherwise, he wouldn’t feel like he’s missing a chunk from himself. He wouldn’t be turning to someone who's not there; reaching for a hand that’s missing, birdsong on his tongue, a story to tell. 
A dream haunts him one night. Warm and familiar, he’s holding onto someone smaller than him, they’re tucked into his side like a puzzle piece. He’s humming one of his songs that is always playing in the back of his mind, an unfinished tale of a harpy and a hare. Danny can’t remember their face, not all of it. He remembers green eyes, hair dark like his own, skin brown like his. 
He loves them more than anything else in the world, a fact he knows down to his soul. He loves them so much it fills his heart with sunlight. Danny squeezes them tight, nuzzling into their hair; he makes them laugh. Then, he proudly boasts something. That when he takes something of their father’s, that his person — a sibling? That feels right — will be… the word fades from Danny’s mind before he can make sense of it. 
His person hugs him tight, his… brother? And their mother — a woman whose face he can’t remember either, but who he loves like a limb nonetheless — appears, smiling. Her hands reach for them both, voice calling them, ‘her sons’. There’s ticking in the distance, it sounds like the fastening of chains.
Danny wakes up cold, tears streaming down his face. The details of the dream already fading from his mind like the cold pull of a corpse.   
—-------
Harpy hare
Where have you buried all your children?
Tell me so I say
—-------
When school starts that Fall, Danny joins the sixth grade class, and quickly learns more things about himself. One of those things being that he’s smarter than the rest of his grade, whatever education he had before, it was better than the one he’s getting now. 
Everyone knows he’s adopted right off the bat. He tells them when the teacher forces himself to introduce himself, but it’s not like they needed him to tell them for them to know; he never existed in their little world before now, and the Fentons are pale as they come. Danny is not.
He befriends Sam Manson and Tucker Foley; they ask him about the scars fading up and down his arms, they ask him about the scar carved diagonal across his face.
Danny, as politely as he can, tells them he doesn’t remember. He thought kindness would come second nature to him, his dream burned into his mind where he hugged his brother so sweetly. Apparently, his sweetness is only second nature to people he considers his own. 
(It becomes even more apparent when Dash Baxter tries to bully him later that day, and Danny ruffles like an eagle threatened. His mind whispers, hissy and agitated, sinking like a shadow at his shoulder, several different ways Danny could kill him for talking to him like that, and fifteen more ways he could cripple him.)
(Danny ignores those thoughts, up until Dash Baxter tries to grab him. Then he breaks his nose on the wood of his desk. It’s easy how quickly the rest of his grade sinks him down to the status of social pariah.)
(At least Sam and Tucker still talk to him after that. When Danny goes to the principal’s office later, he wisely doesn’t mention the worse things he could’ve done than break Dash Baxter’s nose.)  
—--------------
It clicks and it clatters in corners and borders
And they will never
Hear me here listen to croons and a calling
I'll tell them all the
Story, the sun, and the swallow, her sorrow
Singing me the tale of the Harpy and the Hare
—-------
More dreams come, of course they do. Each one halfway to forgotten whenever he wakes up, ticking faint in his ears. He is many different ages. He is young, shorter than a table. He is older, holding onto his little brother. He is singing in almost every single one. He is singing to his brother. 
Danny can barely remember the lyrics, he’s begun leaving a journal by his bedside so that it’s the first thing he can write down when he wakes up. He’s a storyteller, he learns. He feels like a historian, trying to piece together a culture long dead and forgotten. 
His most vivid dream-like memory is not a happy one, and for once he’s almost relieved he barely recalls it. He is somewhere that isn’t home, but his mother and brother are there. He is dressed in black, blades keen in his hands. 
They are atop a moving train. They are fleeing something. His brother is struggling to keep up, he is small, and young. It’s beautifully sunny, they are somewhere green and lovely. 
It is a fast dream. 
His brother stumbles on something, and Danny, fast as a whip, snatches him by the back of his shirt and hoists him up to his feet before he can fall. “Watch your feet, habibi.” He murmurs low, a hand on his back. It’s hard to hear, there is wind in their ears.
His brother, face obscured in all but his eyes, which are green as emeralds, nods. 
The dream blurs, but Danny falls behind. His foot catches on air — impossible, it should’ve been, at least. He never trips. — and he lands against the roof with a thud and a grunt. His mother and brother stop, and turn for him. 
The train hits a turn before Danny can get up, and he shouldn’t have, something pulls on him, he swears, but he slips. He can’t find the purchase to pull himself up, cold fear hits him as his nails scrape against the metal. 
His mother and brother’s horrified faces are the last thing he sees before he disappears off the side of the train. 
(The ticking is at its loudest when he wakes up, pounding against his inner skull. He only manages to write down ‘train fall’ in his journal, before he’s flipping over to press his head into his pillow to get the pain to stop.) 
—---  
She can't keep them all safe
They will die and be afraid
Mother, tell me so I say
(Mother, tell me so I say)
—-------
When Danny is fourteen he is still humming songs he can’t remember, his mind still in a broken puzzle. But his room is now decorated with stars and plants in every corner. He has a guitar he keeps in the corner of his room, and he plays the lullabies in his head on the strings over and over again. 
The ectoplasm in the fridge still unsettles him, still reminds him of a past he can’t recall. The knife beneath his mattress has returned to the kitchen — he doesn’t need it. He found a box in the attic last year, it had his name on it, and inside he found familiar, strange clothes, and more weapons than he thought was possible to carry on one person. 
(Even without knowing that the Fentons prefer guns to blades, Danny knows, instinctively, that they were his weapons. He was — was? Is — a dangerous person. He takes the box down to his room to sort through. The weapons all fit into his callused hands almost perfectly — the grooves worn to fit his palm. They’re just a little small.) 
(He tentatively takes a small blade with him to school one day, and feels much more comfortable with it sheathed beneath his shirt. He’s kept it on him ever since, like he’s reunited a lost limb to himself.)   
Danny doesn’t have a name for his person, his little brother, nor does he have a name for his beloved mother. He’s haunted by dreams every few weeks, many of them repeating. He’s ingrained the words he can remember to memory, and the ones he doesn’t, he writes down in his journal. His little brother; Danny calls him a bird, he can’t figure out what kind. His little bird of some kind; when Danny takes something from their father — what, he can’t remember what — then his little brother will be a little bird. 
(He doesn’t have a name for his brother, yet, but he’s calling his birdie in his head. It’s better than nothing.)
—------
Seeker, do you ever come to wonder
If what you're looking for is within where you hold
Will you leave a trail for them to follow a path
You'll soon forget
Home
—---------
When he’s fourteen, Danny dies. It does nothing to fix his fractured memories, much to his consternation. It just confirms something he already knows; that he was someone dangerous, and that he still is. 
When the shock of death has worn off, Danny inspects his ghost in the metal reflection of the closest table. It’s blurry, hard to see, but shock green eyes pierce back at him, green like the portal. Lazarus, Danny’s mind whispers, and he blinks rapidly.
‘Lazarus,’ he mouths to himself. It’s familiar. Sam shows him with her phone what he looks like, joking that he looks like an assassin. Danny doesn’t think she’s that too far off. 
He doesn’t tell her that. He tucks the thought away with the rest of his secrets, and fiddles with the hood gathering at his neck, attached to a cape with torn edges swinging down to his ankles. He pulls it over his shock white hair. It shadows over his face impossibly so, until all you can see are his green-green eyes peering out like a wolf hiding in the brush.
He ends up calling himself Phantom. 
(Maybe now he can start putting lyrics to his lullabies; his memories may not have returned, locked away with the sound of a clock, but the dead can talk. One of them may just have answers.) 
----------
Home is where we are
Home is where you are
Home is where I am
-----------------
Dedicated to @gascansposts for being the one who introduced me to the band Yaelokre, and thus being the whole reason I was inspired to write this in the first place >:] Those lyrics at the line breaks are all from their album Hayfields.
#dpxdc#dp x dc#danny fenton is not the ghost king#dp x dc crossover#dpxdc crossover#dpdc#danyal al ghul au#amnesiac danyal al ghul au#songs in order of the album: the hartebeest / harpy hare / and the hound / neath the grove is a heart#musician danny has my heart and soul#yes this danyal IS an alternative danny from the other au. an au where things were a little better :) but still sucks#implied good mom talia al ghul#danyal is a momma's boy send tweet#dpxdc ficlet#dpxdc prompts#dp x dc au#dp x dc fanfic#danyal is sTILL five years older than damian in this au#no beta no edits we die like danny fenton#poc danny fentons#i didnt know where to end this :(( i was gonna go on but i blanked. i thought about going into his relationships with his rogues and so on.#but that felt too much like trying to just increase the word count rather than actually writing?? if that makes sense#ugh im gonna have forgotten to include things and im gonna be kicking myself later#morally ambiguous danny whoo! we love to see it#since this was just for fun it doesnt really go into it all that much other than like. it happens. and that danny realizes he's dangerous#phantom in a hazmat suit? nah phantom looking like an assassin >:].#danyal al ghul with damian and his mom: 🥰🌸✨#danyal al ghul with everyone else: 👹🔪#am i heavily implying that clockwork had smth to do with Danyal’s amnesia and appearance by the cabin? 👀 maybe#not enough danyal al ghul aus where him being an assassin actually. has some kind of affect on him
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carrotkicks · 1 year
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24/05/2010
06:54:23
TRANSCRIPT START
[NAKAJIMA ATSUSHI]
Okay, I started the recording. What do think we’re expecting from – 
[DAZAI OSAMU]
Well, this certainly isn’t something you see everyday.
[NAKAJIMA ATSUSHI]
Oh my god… what is this?
[DAZAI OSAMU]
Bodies, Atsushi-kun. Really, really dead bodies.
A murder scene like this comes once a blue moon.
[NAKAJIMA ATSUSHI]
… 
Have you ever seen anything like this before, Mr. Dazai?
[DAZAI OSAMU]
No time for that Atsushi-kun! Get that camera out, you know what to do. 
[NAKAJIMA ATSUSHI]
Hh... Okay, deep breaths. Through the mouth.
*click* *whirr*
*click* *whirr*
*click* *whirr*
[Dep. MINOURA]
Oi! What are you two doing?
[NAKAJIMA ATSUSHI]
Ah! He-hello, we were ju-just –
[DAZAI OSAMU]
Deputy Inspector! Hello, do you remember us? We’re from *rustle* the Armed Detective Agency, you commissioned us for this investigation? 
[Dep. MINOURA]
The ADA.. That’s right, you’re that freak from the river. We specifically requested Edogawa, not you. 
[DAZAI OSAMU]
Ranpo-san would have loved to join you here today, but he was obligated to other arrangements and asked me and my associate, Nakajima Atsushi, to go in his stead. But I assure you can trust me with this case. You are looking at the second greatest detective at the agency, after all.
[Dep. MINOURA]
Hmph, very well. Demonstrate your deductive ability. You, kid. Get back to work. 
[NAKAJIMA ATSUSHI]
Ah, right!
[DAZAI OSAMU]
Of course.
*click* *whirr*
*click* *whirr*
*click* *whirr*
07:23:14
[DAZAI OSAMU]
It seems the victims were impaled quite rapidly. The material they were hung from is a blend of polyester and… *sniffs* wool. It’s in long strips, seemingly torn from a longer sheet. It’s the kind of textile you’d find on a winter coat. It’s far too warm for this sort of cloth. 
[Dep. MINOURA]
How do you figure? 
[DAZAI OSAMU]
Oh my coat is made of the same material. 
*click* *whirr*
Anyways, the way these bodies have been sliced looks like they were cut by the fabric itself. On some of these dismembered parts, there are traces fibers along the serrated edge. 
This is the work of something inhuman. 
*click* *whirr*
[Dep. MINOURA]
That’s impossible.
[DAZAI OSAMU]
Is it? 
[Dep. MINOURA]
*grumble* Edogawa would have at least given us something that was grounded in reality to work with. 
The effort is appreciated, Dazai. Tell your photographer to give us his copies and get the hell out of here. 
[DAZAI OSAMU]
Sure thing, Inspector-san!
*click* *whirr*
*click* *whirr*
*click* *whirr*
Hey Atsushi-ku– AH
*click*
[NAKAJIMA ATSUSHI]
Oops, sorry Mr. Dazai!
*whirr*
[DAZAI OSAMU]
Right in the eyes! I’m blinded! I’m blind!
[NAKAJIMA ATSUSHI]
Really sorry! I was really occupied with these photos, I didn’t see you! Really– ah. What’s with the scary look?
[DAZAI OSAMU]
*hiss* next time pay more attention to your surroundings protege-kun. Careful where you point that flash. Whatever. We’re gonna blow this joint. 
[NAKAJIMA ATSUSHI]
So soon? 
Thank goodness.
[DAZAI OSAMU]
Yeah. We’ve done as much investigating as we could for now. 
[NAKAJIMA ATSUSHI]
Do you have any ideas as to who caused this Mr. Dazai? This crime scene is… more elaborate…  than anything that I can imagine. 
[DAZAI OSAMU]
I just might… Atsushi-kun I’ll be leaving you here. I want to do some further sleuthing.
[NAKAJIMA ATSUSHI]
Huh? You’re taking on more work on purpose, Mr. Dazai? That’s… new.
[DAZAI OSAMU]
Yep! I trust you can make it back to the Agency on your own and log the evidence for us At-su-shi! You are our star at documentation!
[NAKAJIMA ATSUSHI]
Wait–
[DAZAI OSAMU]
Bye now, Atsushi-kun! 
[NAKAJIMA ATSUSHI]
There it is. I guess I never had a choice huh? I’ll see you tomorrow then, Mr. Dazai.
*rustle*
*click*
END TRANSCRIPT
24/05/2010
07:32:46
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27/05/2010
Mr. Dazai has been in and out of the office since Monday. I’m kind of worried he’s avoiding me, because I tried to speak with him and he just brushed past me. Maybe he’s just stressed from this case. With this job as a crime scene photographer, I’ve seen some truly horrific sights but I have to agree, there’s no way a human being could have caused this sort of brutality. The problem is, that it just makes no sense. I wonder how he’ll figure this out. In other, better news, Junichirou will be coming to the office after his school tomorrow. I want to see if he can help me fix my camera. It’s been really finicky since Monday, and I can’t figure out why. Maybe the internal components got a bit corrupted or something. In any case, I hope it’s not too difficult of a repair.
That’s all for today, then. See you around!
N. Atsushi
NEXT
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fate-defiant · 29 days
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🦋~I want you to kiss me, I want you to remake me I want to drown in this moment of captivation~🦋
(I fucking did it dear god that was so many fucking layers)
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lavenoon · 10 months
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@naffeclipse have a bloodstained fool in his natural habitat <3
og detective au by sunnys-aesthetic!
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hatkuu · 3 months
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currently thinking that if pc had a pet cat, they'd most likely DETEST kylar.
you know how animals have a certain sense for danger? your pet gets that with kylar. always nipping and hissing and scratching - never sweetening up like they usually do. you'll plead to kylar that they're not normally this rude! it must just be taking them a while to warm up to him!
your pet never accepts kylar, and always manages to crawl into the empty space on your lap when he visits. staring at him with a glare so harsh kylar can only sit beside you and sweat, rubbing his sweaty palms against one another.
your fuzzy little friend's aggression reaches it's peak in the dead of night - yowling at your bedroom window, hackles raised with claws digging into the fuzz of your bedroom carpet. it's a struggle to coax them back to bed, cooing and petting the stiff fur on their back. their eyes never leave the window, no matter how you hold them and shush their panicked meows. it's concerning, given that you know animals have far keener senses than people do.
however, despite all of the blatant red flags, when kylar visits the next day with an array of deep, red-crusted scratches up his forearms - you're none the wiser.
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stormy-blossom · 3 months
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Immortal Volo is funny concept in my version of the Pokemon universe because this man has the audacity to be alive in the same time as his history buff great granddaughter.
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randomfoggytiger · 3 months
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Thank you for the tag, @baronessblixen-- went about this slightly different than the rules-- shuffle on a repeat playlist, post the first 10 tracks, and tag ten people-- because I don't use playlists.
I decided to select an OST, randomly generate a number, and list the corresponding song below:
"Posh!", Chitty Chitty Bang Bang
"Symphony No. 3, Op. 55 (Eroica): I. Allegro con brio", Beethoven
"Chin Up", Charlotte's Web
"Eric to the Rescue", The Little Mermaid
"How Can I Refuse", Barbie The Princess and the Pauper
"Stroll Through the Sky", Howl's Moving Castle
"There's Always Tomorrow for Dreams to Come True", Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer
"Climb Ev'ry Mountain", The Sound of Music
"I Dreamed a Dream", Les Miserables
"La Esmeralda", Pugni
Tagging: @welsharcher, @agent-troi, @amplifyme, @suitablyaggrieved, @dd-is-my-guiltypleasure, @cecilysass, @aloysiavirgata, @perpetually-weirdening, @enigmaticdrblockhead, @settle-down-frohike, and I think that's over ten, so I'll stop~.
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cjskribblez · 6 months
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Day 19; Hybrid
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omnicom · 6 months
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Pokeshipping Week 2023
Day 7: If Misty was with Ash During His Realization in the Series Finale
(Apologies for the late posting, literally worked on it all day today till now. Yay for lateness! (ノ◕ヮ◕)ノ*:・゚✧)
So, technically, I didn't follow exactly to the theme. I put in a little addition of someone who was just as integral and would be alongside them had the show kept the OG group together. Hi, Brock, good to have you here in all our OS Trio glory!
I think Misty (and Brock) would've been supportive and happy for Ash for figuring out what his dream actually means for him. How he defines what makes a Pokemon Master, how he quantifies it. They probably also would've told him that those are some lofty goals to hold himself to, but given his stubbornness ("couldn't you guys call it 'persistence' or 'determination' instead?") it doesn't look as impossible of a goal as some others might make it out to be.
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Misty: "As for me, I still dream of becoming the world's greatest Water Type Master!"
Ash: "Oh yeah! And I'm sure we'll make our dreams come true!"
Brock: "Ooooh~ Congrats, you two! I can't wait to see you guys achieve them!"
And that's a wrap for Pokeshipping Week 2023! Thanks to everyone for their likes, reblogs, and comments! I appreciate all the love and compliments, it really humbles my heart to receive all this. Thank you, again. 🥰
Art © Crumpled-Hakui
Like what you see? Want art like this of your own? Check out my art commission post here and send me an email or private message! Thanks for stopping by!
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desire-mona · 6 days
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dps boys hcs! this has been requested of me! lets make it modern bc thatll be fun
- todd absolutely DESPISES "booktok" and its addiction to smut. can go on a VERY long rant abt how only reading things with sex scenes is, in fact, a porn addiction.
- knox has tried on many occasions to become an influencer, failing every single time and blaming it on the algorithm or whaver
- neil, type of mother fucker to not be on social media like at all. has one private instagram that he posts on maybe twice a year, and has a tiktok only to watch the videos todd intermittently sends him.
- ^^^ followed immediately by a text saying "i sent you a tiktok go look at it" which always sparks a mini argument about whether or not its easier to just save the video and text it to him. goes nowhere every time.
- meeks has fashion taste that makes him look insufferable, band tee's and the worst jeans you ever did see, exclusively. also modern meeks would have clear glasses frames.
- saw someone say charlie would vape, id like to add to that. has a COLLECTION of elf bars, its vast, its colourful, it's annoying, it's turning his coughs wet.
- pitts was a fast fashion guy for a total of 6 months before finding out all the shit about how unethical the industry is. didnt get rid of any of those clothes bc thats wasteful but he IS fighting for his life whenever anyone looks at his wardrobe.
- cameron is a BIG analog horror fan, local 58, walten files, fnaf tapes, thats his jam. can we popularise cam being a big horror fan in general bc im so attached to that hc. horror cam i love u.
- all the boys have a life360 circle (enforced by cam and pitts due to charlie's horrendous reckless driving) and todd CONSTANTLY needs to be yelled at the charge his phone.
- neil's phone is ANCIENT, had the same one for nearly a decade, and its evident. has a bigass crack right down the middle, the back is shattered and held together with tape, a phone case, and a dream. theres marks from shit burning into the screen, most notably a rectangle in the bottom corner from the billions of facetime calls with todd that ultimately set his phone on fire every time.
- todd is secretly a grade A yapper but ONLY in digital form. his online presence is VAST, but impressively anonymous. has a very active substack, letterboxd, poetry tumblr, and even started his own blog. no, not a tumblr blog, a blog blog.
- charlie's car is decked out in the most idiotic add ons that you can think of. comically large mirror dice, a bumper sticker that says "honk if you want me bad", stupid car door lights that project a photo of jimmy fallon onto the ground when u open them, the whole 9 yards. took neil, pitts, and cameron 20 minutes to talk him out of getting flame decals (as a bit.)
- knox refuses to play any other videogame besides GTA, which he plays concerningly often. if ur having trouble reaching him then odds are hes on GTA. its the only hobby of his that his parents know about. christmas is tough for the overstreets.
- meeks is well aware of his general ☝️🤓 demeanour so he started making jokes about it before anyone else can. any time he says anything remotely smart sounding then he MUST do the voice and put up a finger. it became a force of habit and he did it while talking to a teacher once, he left the room mortified.
- pittsie lives on spotify, he has a playlist for every possible emotion, over 3k liked songs, and 200k+ minutes listened when wrapped season rolls around. additionally he does every spotify stat game available, and forced the boys to download a spotify activity widget thing. (WHAT DO YALL KNOW ABT AIRBUDS ‼️‼️ add me @ monahatesya xoxo)
- cam loves to make jokes about DARE and the "this is ur brain on drugs" ads but he is, in fact, the main demographic of said ads. said this before, saying it now, will most definitely say it again, he is beyond susceptible to peer pressure. marijuana isnt a gateway drug for everyone but it certainly is for him.
bonus! chris and keating! just for you!
- chris is avoiding the lesbian masterdoc purely out of fear. not out of fear of being gay, but out of fear of the sheer amount of subsequent other things she'll likely also have to find out about herself.
- keating spends an inordinate amount of time on youtube, which nobody actually expects. big video essay fan, imagine the shock from the boys when he pulls up youtube for a lesson and he's halfway thru the 4 hour iBinged iCarly video. was previously a james somerton fan but considering... the james somerton part.. hes now a defunctland loyalist.
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honeyblockm · 1 year
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can your monogamous relationship do this? *forms a triangle*
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chocouniversa · 3 months
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Holy Shit. [MINOR SPOILERS FOR HAZBIN HOTEL FINALE]
SPOILERS BELOW:
Ok. Hazbin Hotel finale. Awesome. Thas all ima say, anyway...to my point.
I don't know why I didn't realize it until the finale but fucking Adam?
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This fucker?
His divine robes here are pretty distinct, but until today I didn't realize it's supposed to be a FUCKING VARSITY JACKET.
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L O O K.
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The most toxic jock ever, gosh.
(Ok thoughts over)
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daily-property-police · 4 months
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Day 364- Art Summary! It was a lot of fun looking back through the whole year and finding my favorites.
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piedoesnotequalpi · 3 months
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Despite my best efforts, I have to name another character
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pencilofawesomeness · 10 months
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Erza gripped the scepter hard enough to make her metal gloves creak. However, neither the hum of the magestone nor the act of using her strength to the fullest could placate her, and neither could it solve this matter.
“Jellal,” she said—slowly, carefully. Erza was positioned between him and the mirror, and she trusted her reflexes, but she still couldn’t help but to doubt her ability to stop him from escaping. Or, rather, from throwing his life away. “Let’s talk this through.”
Jellal chuckled dryly, without mirth. The bags under his eyes appeared darker in the light of the dorm courtyard. “There’s nothing to talk about. We both know that the Arcane Response Unit won’t be persuaded. I’m going.”
“The Headmage is speaking to them now. This is all just a misunderstanding. We’ll work this out.”
Erza absolutely hated not being able to do more. Her respect for the ARU and the role they played in this world absolutely did not diminish that this whole situation was bullshit and Jellal was being wrongly scapegoated. It was unjust and plain wrong. If Erza thought that marching up to the captain (a second time) and demanding this bogus investigation to be dropped would work, then she would have done it in a heartbeat. Unfortunately, even she knew that this could not be solved with violence—or with caving in. They had to stand their ground and play this right, and that meant keeping her dorm here while the Headmage worked her wits and magic. 
Surely, everyone else would see the reason she clearly saw—even when Jellal himself doubted it. 
Jellal was only eight when he came to the Queendom of Roses. Only eight when they met. He was a shy and awkward child, and he refused to talk about where he came from. That was alright though, because even Erza knew that it was sad. That was why he had been sent to Grandpa Rob. Erza had just been thrilled for another fae child to join Rob’s home for orphans, because it had meant that there was at least one other kid she could play with without fearing their fragility. 
He was her best friend, and he was a good man. Erza wouldn’t have made him her vice housewarden otherwise. Jellal helped people and he was kind and he was careful and conscious of those around him, and he sought peace and balance above all else. And people seriously thought Jellal, as a child no less, was somehow responsible for an attempt to overthrow the Kingdom of Heroes’ royal family. It was utterly absurd. 
It was even more absurd that Jellal was willing to accept it. 
“Erza, I have to go. I— I did do those things. I can’t continue to ignore it.”
He might have succeeded in making that declaration cold, but the crack in his voice belied his fear. Erza’s determination settled. She swore to protect the people of Heartslaybul, and to lead them down a victorious path. She would even protect them from themselves. 
“I am the Queen here,” she declared, throat tight. “My word is law. And I say you stay.”
Jellal shifted into a ready position—to fight, to flee. The movement alone cut her to her core. “Erza, I’m not who you think I am. I’m not worth it.”
Her heart cracked. She wondered if the Queen of Hearts ever felt this pain, her desire to protect her people a visceral and painful thing. Maybe that was why she sometimes appeared so violent in history—because she, too, swore to protect her loved ones from anything. 
The past few weeks she had had to watch Jellal suffer under this weight. She watched him try to convince her that he wasn’t who she knew he was. It hurt to even consider. It hurt worse that he thought so little of himself, and little of her for not believing that she would trust him. 
Erza would not be easily swayed. Not even by him. She reached into her Inventory and she grabbed a long, weighty lance. 
“You don’t get to decide that.”
Jellal lunged. His magic mastery was always an impressive thing, and he could boost his very movement. However, her reflexes were not to be trifled with either—and, she had planned for this. She knew him well, after all. 
“Now!” she shouted, and a flurry happened all at once. 
Erza employed Jellal’s own trick, hastening herself to meet his path and bodily block him with her lance. Behind her, several magic barriers were erected around the mirror, and Erza quickly added her own, for good measure. 
A vine wrapped around Jellal’s ankle, yanking him backwards and straight into Elfman’s bear-hold. 
The plan quickly fell apart though. With a potent burst of magic, Jellal ripped himself out of the hold. He levitated Elfman with ease and tossed him straight into Droy. 
“JELLAL!” 
Mirajane appeared in a fury, floating above him. Erza spotted the flash of guilt across his features right as the junior batted him downward with ice magic. 
“Stand down,” Erza ordered, a little desperate. 
But Jellal had his own share of determination, evident in the sweat gleaming on his too-pale face. “Don’t fight me on this.”
“Too late, man.” Jet, the only one arguably faster than Jellal thanks to his Unique Magic, swept Jellal off his feet right as he tried to get up. 
Mirajane met her eyes, and reluctantly, Erza nodded. 
“Soulbinder,” Mirajane chanted, and in seconds her UM manifested around Jellal, the dark tendrils physically rooting him to the ground and eating at his magic. It was a violent restraint, but it worked. Erza knew that any less Jellal would fight through. Not that he wasn’t making an attempt now. 
“Please,” she practically begged. “Don’t throw yourself away.”
Jellal tugged at the spell, a heaving breath making his exhaustion known. “You think I want to?” he whispered. 
In the silence that followed, the soft admission might as well have been a shout. 
“Do you think I want to go? To admit that any of that stuff happened? To— to accept the role I played?”
Erza swallowed. There was something dangerously shaky about his countenance. The strain in his voice was brittle, and her instincts whispered that something was about to snap. The air grew thick with that anticipation. “Jellal…”
“NO!” His shout was raw and hoarse, full of tears and anger and everything, that it startled Erza into silence. 
“I never wanted this! But I can’t change what happened. No amount of hoping and pretending will ever change it!”
The atmosphere shook. An ugly sort of magic began to fill the air. Erza realized it too late, when Jellal’s tears mixed with his sweat and turned black.
“It will never change that I was her pawn!”
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