apatchworkpossum

[apatchworkpossum]

I love dp x DC stories in which Ghost King Danny is summoned in his full Eldritch form and scaring the shit out of everyone. I also like it when it combines with aus of him talking in ghost speak and the translation gets wrangled, so he sounds a lot more threatening than he means to.

But in those stories ... his name doesn't really fit. What Eldritch God would be called Danny? Even Phantom isn't that scary.

Then I realized that if ghost speak gets translates wrongly and Danny said his name in ghost speak ... wouldn't it be translated wrong too?

And Daniel means God is my Judge in Hebrew while Phantom of course is a kind of ghost.

So,

The Justice League has summoned Danny and he doesn't realize that he's in his Eldritch form. His skin is black and filled with galaxies constantly being born and dying. His eyes are two endless black holes. His hair is the flash of the big bang. He's terrifying and awe-inspiring.

As he speaks, it sounds like millions of beings screaming in agony before breathing their last breath.

And then Danny says "Hi! My name is Danny Phantom, the Ghost King, how can I help you?"

But what the JL hears through the translation is: "I am the Judge of Gods and the restless Dead, Ruler of the Infinite, for what purpose hath thee summoned me?"

Now that's a fitting name!

[apatchworkpossum]

ex military ghost seeing gym rat soap flex in the gym mirrors and being concerned by how visually dehydrated and unhealthily cut he is

(cw disordered working out and implied unspecified ed)

ghost whose body is soft with fat, covering a soldier's build; he's stronger than every man in this gym and none of them would know. the culture’s shifted away from working muscle and strength, from health, and he’s known that for a while. but something about this one, the almost desperation he sweats with as he crosses pb after pb, holds his attention

he changes his workout hours to line up with his, changes his circuits until they’re on the same row of machines and uses the shared interest in weight training to introduce himself. he almost cringes as he does it but soap doesn’t hit him with the typical bro energy he’s gotten used to in gyms; he meets him with a smile, doesn’t try to crush his hand as he shakes it, even offers a spare hand towel to wipe himself off with

he’s nice, truly and genuinely nice and ghost hates that he’s gotten caught up in the swell of toxic self-hatred sweeping through his generation

he offers to be soap's spotter, getting him settled under the bar and though he gives him an odd look for it, follows his nudges to get his shoulders in a better position. he does the same to his wrists and elbows - it’s like he was never taught how to lift, just watched similarly untrained men and tried to emulate their movements - and sees how much he's lifting as he stands ready to catch the bar

all he can think of is how much more he could be doing if he just took care of his body instead of starving it

his body’s screaming for it; for fats and full sugars and salts and carbs, no matter how many supplement drinks he slings back throughout his set, and when he invites him out later, his near-empty plate stands out starkly next to ghost’s full one

as they get closer, he sees the "trainers" soap idolises; the sets it’s clear they don’t follow and the regimes based on nothing at best and damaging pseudoscience at worst. he sees the starved bodies and the borderline dangerous ways they lift and move because they never bothered to learn how; they just wanted the results

at any cost

every single one of them promoting unhealthy behaviour and so obviously taking steroids besides, no matter how much they deny it. but no matter how much ghost tries to point it out, tries to clear the wool from his eyes, soap just doesn't believe him

(can’t believe him. he can’t believe that he can't achieve it, that he can't just do more, be better; it has to be his fault he doesn't look like them no matter how hard he tries)

just ghost trying to lead soap back to a healthy mindset when it comes to body image and working out and getting him to realise he’s unthinkingly using it as a way to hurt himself instead of feeling good in himself the way he used to

[apatchworkpossum]

Talking with my father and he’s trying to make my brother fly for 24 hours to go see him in another country, stay for 10 days, then fly the 24 hours home just to go back to school the next day.

And when I say that’s not fair to my brother, to make him fly that far, and that my father should be the one to fly, he says that he has done every other time and that he shouldn’t have to fly the back-to-back 24 hour flights either. And that the only reason he has done so is to see us kids.

But the way he said it, all I could think was, “You regret every bit of it, don’t you?”

[apatchworkpossum]

Bestie and I made those Dylan Hollis Strawberry Fluffies.

Didn’t come out too bad I think, despite the fact that neither of us should be allowed within 10 feet of an oven.

[apatchworkpossum]

Okay so I had this AU idea for a long time and I've only had time to draw a bit of it until now. It's basically a murder mystery AU. I have no name for it right now so I'm just going to call it ministry mystery 👍

Summary: While the ongoing practice of the Ghost project continues, Cardinal Copia stumbles upon a battered skull. Strange things start to happen, and the cardinal is being haunted by a shadowy ghoul. He now finds himself as an amateur detective, accompanied by his ghouls, to solve the mystery of the ghoul skull and its odd death.

Glamoured/Human versions of the ghouls under the cut. They're technically humanized versions of my ghoul designs, but they do have similar features to the actual musicians. Hiding it just in case some people don't want to see it

They remained glamoured for the first half because they were instructed not to reveal their true selves to the cardinal, but as the investigation goes on and more truths are uncovered, they slowly drop it.

I want to develop this more but for now, they're just going to be out of context sketches with vague hints of plot.

[apatchworkpossum]

bored in a meeting, making reddit memes into ghoap

[apatchworkpossum]

dear lord, please take all life problems and responsibilities away from fanfic writers but also make them financially stable and happy with nothing to worry about so they can happily focus on writing and posting fanfiction. amen

[apatchworkpossum]

Uh, sure.

So, the drug itself is a new development, that’s the entire reason Laswell sent them after it. And, as with any newly developed pharmaceutical, the exact effects are moderately unknown outside of the most common result.

The most common effect is that people lose all inhibitions and spill every secret they have. This is bad enough on its own.

Soap has the unfortunate, previously unknown reaction, where instead of stopping at spilling his proverbial guts, the drug affects him even worse, and starts making him hallucinate his worst fears.

Such as Price, calling him worthless, calling him a mistake, telling him he’s not worth the effort of even trying to find him now that he’s gotten himself into this mess, let alone stage a rescue.

And Gaz, looking at him in disgust as he shakes apart in the chair he’s chained to, turning his back without a word to leave him and join the faceless shadows of his other friends as they all walk out the cell together.

And Ghost… well, that’s the worst, isn’t it? Because Soap sees a Ghost that has figured out that Soap loves him. A Ghost that is disgusted by it. A Ghost that takes the time to systematically pick apart every inch of the Sergeant, every flaw and mistake pointed out in vicious mockery.

And all Soap can do is sob and choke and try to apologize past tears. For Price and Gaz he could at least try to plead with them. But for Ghost to be the one to cut him down? He won’t even fight it.

Meanwhile, the kidnappers were watching Soap in his cell, noting down the effects of the odd reaction to the medication. Not noticing a very pissed off Ghost sneaking up behind them to take them out.

Ghost has to carry Soap out. Soap doesn’t even register he’s there, too lost in the hallucinations to even register being picked up and moved. Ghost carries him the entire way to exfil, where he loads them both into a truck. Price drives, Gaz in the passenger seat. There can barely hear what Ghost describes to them over the sound of Soap’s sobbing, which is barely muffled in the plates of Ghost’s vest.

He quiets down by the time they make it to the helicopter. This is not reassuring to the rest of the 141.

In the end, a few hours on drip in base medical flushes all of the drug out of Soap’s system. No lasting physical damage, no other flesh wounds to care for.

But that doesn’t take care of mental wounds, does it? Especially not after the tapes Ghost stole from the kidnappers on the way out are reviewed.

the 141 captured and they're systematically given truth serum to make them give up all their military secrets. but instead of soap giving up his military secrets, he keeps yapping about how he knows he's not worthy of the 141, and he doesn't know how his captain hasn't kicked him off, and somehow Gaz became his bestfriend even though he's sure he isn't his, and Ghost. he knows Ghost doesn't like him, but he still bothers him anyway becasue he can't stop himself because he's in love-

[apatchworkpossum]

FINALLY THE DAY HAS COME! A comic for the first few paragraphs of @melusiiine's amazing fic In Lethe, Sinking. A work of art that tells the story of Terzo and Omega's shared upbringing as well as their downfall. Traverse the afterlife with Omega to reunite with his soulbound beloved! (more pages under the cut)

Genuinely one of my favorite authors on the site, always describing little details I didn't even know needed to be described. She's got such a way with words and her style is so vivid that I can imagine everything in my head like I'm watching a movie. I love looking to her work for inspiration for my own writing (and drawing obviously). I cannot encourage anyone ENOUGH to go check her out. (Genuinely, I'm begging...)

I've had such a good time working on this piece and thank you to everyone who supported (and tolerated) my ramblings along the way!

[apatchworkpossum]

Stopped by my fire department today to drop something off for a friend, and got told that they’re really missing me while I’m out on leave.

Apparently they relied on me for day calls a lot more than I realized.

Feels good to be appreciated every once in a while.

[apatchworkpossum]

All I’ve wanted to do for the past 5 hours is cuddle up in bed with someone and cry into their chest for a while.

But the only person I trust enough to do that with is so touch aversive it’s send them into a panic attack.

The struggle is real, guys

[apatchworkpossum]

so. hi .

yes.

[apatchworkpossum]

give em the ol' ✨️ razzle dazzle ✨️

[apatchworkpossum]

i should have known not to give in.... 🫣🫢

[apatchworkpossum]

I saw this meme in the wild and I had to

[apatchworkpossum]

hiii feel free to ignore this, but what if:

Perpetua's some small town local urban legend/cryptid that people aren't really sure exists or not, but still speak about in whispers whenever someone goes missing. And you aren't sure he's real either...until you encounter him in a graveyard at night alone.

Anyways that it! Have a good day/night!

Perpetua: is this a meet cute?

Reader: shaking, crying, throwing up

-

la creatura, they called it. something that slunk through the shadows of the night on talons and hooves, taking all who were unlucky enough to come across it back to it’s lair to devour.

you’d never believed the stories, of course- there was something so cartoonish about the way the creature was described, with huge red eyes and fangs that overhung it’s bottom lip like tusks. you were one for rationality, and never believed in something that couldn’t be explained by science.

and so, when you came face to face with something feeding on a deer carcass in the graveyard one night, your first thought was some sort of large wild animal- until you saw the red eyes, and the tusks that extended from it’s bottom lip stained with blood.

as the grave keeper, you’d never found any reason to fear walking in the graves at night: but now, as you stare at this monster crouched among the headstones, you feel your stomach drop.

a certainty settles over you, as thick as a blanket but far less comforting. you’re going to die here.

except, the monster leans back from the carcass as it pins you with a stare, and raises one hand to wipe the blood away. you see the claws on the ends of it’s spindly fingers, razor-sharp and catching in the moonlight.

“scusi,” it says, in a hissing rasp. “I did not expect there to be anyone else out here.”

you feel your legs collapse underneath you and you slump to your knees as it makes a noise of alarm. on legs that are far too long for the rest of it’s body, it crawls over to you on all fours and you can’t even scream at the unnatural way it moves over the headstones as if they were mere rocks in the road.

“are you alright?”

hysterical, you giggle in its face.

“i’m about to die, so… no.”

it leans away from you, frowning.

“I will not harm you. I have had my meal for the night.”

your gaze wanders over to the gutted deer in the middle of the walkway. you have an awful vision of yourself lying among the graves in exactly the same way for some poor unlucky soul to find in the morning.

it follows your eyes and nods.

“si. I am full, you do not need to worry.”

“and if you weren’t full?”

pausing, it regards you with a quiet, thoughtful expression. then, a smile breaks across it’s face and you almost scream at the sight of the blood caught in the dagger-like needles it calls teeth.

“well, I suppose i’d have to drag you back to my lair and eat you.” you can’t tell if it’s joking or not.

with shaking hands, you reach up to cradle your face, fighting back the hiccuping sob that threatens to worm it’s way from your mouth.

somehow, you think it’s expression is somewhat sad as it regards you with those huge eyes.

“I will leave.”

it turns to go and you exhale a huge breath of air.

“maybe I see you again sometime. seem nice.”

as la creatura fades back into the shadows of the night, you feel numb. exhausted, somehow, as if you’d just run a marathon.

you hope it was joking about seeing you again, but you couldn’t quite tell.

[apatchworkpossum]

Papa, I just found out the Catholic Pope can appoint secret cardinals -basically give Cardinal status to anyone without even necessarily telling the person. Is that also a thing you can do?

I don’t know about not telling the actual person, but “in pectore” is certainly in use here as well. But I think you may be a little confused. Please let me explain:

When someone is made a Cardinal “in pectore,” only the Pope and the Cardinal know about it. But they are not technically allowed to act as a Cardinal until they are announced as one to the public, officially. An “in pectore” appointment is sort of like… An “I-O-U.” A promise that one day, it will be public and official. Until then, they go about business as usual. They are a Cardinal on paper only, and even then, not technically on paper, since “in pectore” means “in the heart.”

And if the Pope dies before anything becomes public, then the status expires. They are no longer promised to be Cardinal, the I-O-U is void. Even if the Vatican finds out later who it was, from an old letter or something, it doesn’t matter anymore. So, it is a tricky situation. High risk, high reward.

We have a similar practice, for obvious safety reasons. There are plenty of people out there who would be threatened if their status was made public, so we have a significant amount of Cardinals “in occulto,” in secret. Not just Cardinals either, people of all kinds of statuses. Everyone deserves safety, rank does not matter. And unlike the Catholics, ours do not expire when a Papa dies. If the status is deserved before a Papa’s death, there is no reason why it would no longer be deserved afterwards.