#(This is from chapter 3 btw)

[calmparticles]

like glue ?

[isaacz]

so deltarune pilled rn

[goobfork]

kris and tenna sktch

do you guys think kris used to pretend the tv was with them and tenna is how they'd imagine it would look hahaah

[tigerbears]

Well Shit.

[erinwantstowrite]

there is an uptick of people thinking that bruce like. emotionally manipulated peter in LoF? i should clarify that bruce did not do that??

(potential spoilers below)

he didn't know that spooking peter would be related to a trauma response, and peter ultimately wasn't mad at him for that. peter and bruce have been messing with each other since they met and peter started it (hello orphan joke that peter made the first time he spoke to batman). what he was really upset about was that bruce figured out the plan to tell his identity AND get around the spider sense. bruce was letting him know what he was walking into should he do that right then and there.

bruce was very much right that peter wouldn't go near the manor until he was comfortable with bruce, an adult he had only a few points of contact with atp. (also bruce still doesn't know that peter had stalked him and red robin in that one scene and that because of it, peter did know some things about batman and bruce.) even if he was comfortable with the rest of them, they'd have had a hard time getting him near the cave. peter is flighty and he often leaps before he looks. bruce has experience with like all 85 of his children being the same, but specifically when dick was peter's age

it wasn't emotional manipulation, he was just presenting himself in a way that made it easier for peter to feel comfortable around him and that he could trust batman. that's why they played tag of all things. peter would have been a lot more distrusting if bruce hadn't made that step. imagine the conversation about dick being peter's parent, but peter is five seconds away from trying to leave because he's in batman's house

i should also make sure everyone remembered peter's conversation with benny about why batman "doesn't allow metas":

it's a rule to protect metas from shit like this. AND it's to prevent superheroes that don't understand Gotham or how it works coming in and trying to "fix" everything only to make it worse. agree or not, i think it's pretty clear that batman doesn't actually have a problem with metas. he works with them (justice league, DUKE is on his team for crying out loud) but he's paranoid.

this isn't an angry post btw!! i'm just confused by some comments and a few asks i've gotten recently. i'm just making sure everyone here knows that bruce made a guess that peter would want to be on more equal terms with batman, and he was right. he's made a lot of mistakes in the past with not doing that (look at ALL of his robins. especially jason and steph) and he's learned from that

also. it's batman. he's gonna do that in the most dramatic way possible

[prism-forgone]

while i can't say i can't believe kris photocopied and colored aces to cheat at cards when they were little (because it's entirely believable), it's so fucking funny and says so much about them

[vasinoop]

'And it was an odd thing, resting his hand over Nico di Angelo's. In a sense, it was as if he were formally resting with the boy in the darkness of a coffin.'

Do yourself a favor and go read Leo Valdez & The Olympians: The Ceaseless Eve by @rosesradio

Ok? Ok.

Please, it's so good.

[dreamsy990]

im sick so fuck you im subjecting you to my self indulgent doodles. monster au odypen drawn into scenes from the fic that inspired the au in the first place i hope youre happy

[starsonablackboard]

the fact that (almost) the first thing kris does after yeeting their soul at noelle's house is go play piano for a while is breaking me. like, they miss it. and they can't play it when the player controls them, so the only way to access one of their few hobbies, one of the few things that make them happy (also one of the few things they have left of dess since it's implied she was the one who played the piano in holidays' house) is to violently and painfully claw their soul out of themselves is brutal

[greenglowinspooks]

(DCxDP) Drowning in formaldehyde (Pt. 2)

—

Tw: canon-typical violence (Batman), emetophobia at one point

Will be crossposted to AO3 eventually

(Pt. 1)

(Masterlist/subscription post)

—

Danny sat in the back of one of the transport trucks currently on the way to Arkham, his hands in his lap.

So far, everything was going to plan.

About a quarter of the team had gotten themselves admitted into Arkham in the days leading up to the raid, carefully sneaking in supplies and weapons for both themselves and the rogues they were going to free.

Half of the team was on trucks, ready to storm the building with their fancy new tech. A couple others were keeping an eye out for the Bats, and the last one was holed up in a recently condemned building, ecto-modified sniper rifle in hand, ready to fire.

Danny’s hands were cold.

He hadn’t always run cold, from what he remembered. Even after he died—hell, even after he started developing his ice powers—he had always been warm.

Now, though, his body was freezing.

Maybe it was because of the ecto siphoning he and Derringer had done the day before.

He couldn’t make the ecto guns work without fueling them, after all, and the only ectoplasm he had access to was the stuff inside his body. So, he had Derringer hook him up to a GiW machine and filter the ecto out of his blood.

The process was excruciating.

Not only did he get light-headed from the loss of fluids, the machine also chilled his blood considerably during the filtering process, and when it was pumped back into his body, it was freezing. Derringer had to cover him with heating pads and thick blankets to get him to stop shaking.

Still, that had been a little over eighteen hours ago, so that probably wasn’t it.

Maybe it was just another side affect of his time with the GiW.

Overuse of his ghostly wail, he had realized earlier, was the reason that he had lost his voice permanently. Maybe he had accidentally used his ice too many times the same way, and now his body was irrevocably changed. Maybe warmth was just another tiny privilege he had taken for granted, that had now been lost forever.

Danny stared down at his hands.

Maybe his body had just given up entirely on keeping him warm, on pretending to be human.

“Kid, you alright? We’re almost there.”

Derringer’s voice snapped Danny out of his thoughts.

“Yeah,” Danny signed, “just tired. And cold.”

“We’ve got to get you a jacket, kid,” Derringer said, “it’s not even winter and I already have to worry about you freezing to death.”

“I died a long time ago, it’s fine.”

“No,” one of the other men in the truck drawled, “it means you’ve got to be extra careful. You’ve got a second chance at living, so you better not screw it up.”

“What did he say?”

“Danny thinks that because he’s died before, he doesn’t need to worry about freezing to death.”

The truck went quiet for a few moments. Most of the guys in there didn’t know he had died before. He didn’t exactly like to advertise the fact.

“I have a cousin who had a heart attack, and it only made his heart worse,” one of the guys near the front of the truck offered.

“See, kid?” Derringer said, “I’m right. As soon as this is over, you’re getting a jacket.”

Danny crossed his arms, slumping over in his seat with a huff.

A few moments later, a loud clang echoed through the truck. Danny jolted, almost falling out of his seat.

The door opened, the driver looking at them with boredom written all over his face.

“Alright, up and at em. It’s go time,” he mumbled, smacking the door loudly for emphasis. “The sooner we’re done, the sooner we can leave.”

They all stood, hopping out of the truck and making their way to the fence line.

Danny moved his hand to the bandolier on his chest, fingers brushing against the small ecto-bombs he had attached to it.

There were five of them, their bodies made of tempered glass and black steel, and they glowed a sickly green in the night. They were designed mainly for combat; he had a few larger ones meant to blow a hole in a wall in his backpack, which was securely zipped shut.

His hand then drifted to the holster on his left side, and the ecto-gun nestled securely within it.

Most of his parents’ inventions were far too big and bulky to be practical in any real combat setting, so he had downsized them considerably. The weapon he had was modeled after a standard glock pistol, matte black paint covering the GiW white of the gun’s body.

The gun should be able to fire around fifty shots a minute without overheating, which was more than enough for Danny. Hopefully, he wouldn’t have to fire a single round tonight. However, for whatever reason, the words should and hopefully didn’t inspire much confidence in him.

Danny followed the group as they snuck up to the facility, Derringer by his side.

Originally, neither of them were going to go on the raid, but someone on the patient list had caught Danny’s eye, so he decided he would investigate in person. Derringer was just along for the ride because Mr. Cobblepot wasn’t willing to lose an asset as valuable as Danny.

Danny would make it up to the bodyguard later, he decided.

Entering Arkham was, all things considered, pretty easy. Mr. Cobblepot had connections to a few of the orderlies, and it was all too easy to convince them to “forget” a few steps in setting up the security system for the night.

However, since nothing can ever just be simple, they ran into an unexpected patrol of nightshift guards just a few minutes after all splitting up to find the rogues.

Danny and Derringer were able to take them down pretty quickly, but not before they sounded the alarms. And, according to a few guys on the comms, they weren’t the only ones to run into guards where they shouldn’t be.

“They must have changed their patrols,” Derringer huffed, spinning the pistol in his hands, “c’mon, let’s go see about freeing our good friend Victor Fries.”

Danny nodded, scampering after the man as he sprinted through the halls.

The inmates, who had woken up from the loud alarm’s continuous blaring, shouted at them from their cells. Danny’s pulse was loud in his ears, drowning everything out.

Distantly, he wondered if those guards were going to die. Maybe they were dead already.

He supposed that it didn’t really change much if they were.

Soon, they were at the cell. It was custom-built to hold Mr. Freeze, constantly kept at subzero temperatures to avoid killing him.

Derringer hefted his bag off of his back, pulling out the suit and freeze gun that Mr. Cobblepot had procured. As he did so, Danny took a few of the larger ecto-bombs and placed them on the joints of the door.

They carefully moved away, putting some distance between themselves and the door, and Danny detonated it.

The explosion was loud. It shook the entire building, the shockwave knocking Danny to the floor.

Danny brought his hand up to his safety goggles, yanking a small piece of metal shrapnel out of them and dropping it on the floor. He was dimly aware of more pieces sticking out of his kevlar suit. Derringer was similarly peppered with metal, luckily uninjured as well.

They had come from the body and mechanism of the bomb, he realized. He’d have to fix that later.

Mr. Freeze emerged from the cell a few moments later, a scowl on his face. Derringer quickly shoved the suit and freeze gun into his hands and he retreated back into the cell for a few moments, getting dressed.

“I could have died from that, you know,” he hissed. “Killed by some amateurs with shoddy explosives.”

“The Penguin sent us,” Derringer said, ignoring the man’s clear annoyance, “our getaway car is outside. If you’d come with us…”

Mr. Freeze nodded sternly.

“Hurry up, then.”

Derringer and Danny hurried out, Mr. Freeze right behind them. Then, at a certain hallway, Danny paused.

He had to check.

“Kid,” Derringer barked, “we have to go.”

Danny shook his head.

“You go,” he signed, hands trembling, “I have to check.”

“Oh, what’s the problem now?” Mr. Freeze asked, his frown more pronounced by the minute.

“Danny…” Derringer sighed, “Danny thinks his sister might be in here. He hasn’t seen her in years. It’s the whole reason he was a part of the Arkham raid, actually.”

Mr. Freeze paused for a moment.

“Well, lead the way, then,” he said, clearly regretting his words as soon as he said them. Danny just nodded, scurrying forward, the other two men close behind him.

They came to the right cell quickly. Danny looked in through the glass, and he felt a piece of himself shatter.

That was Jazz, his sister, sitting in a padded wall wearing a straightjacket and a muzzle.

She didn’t bother looking up at them as they arrived, not stirring even when Danny slammed his hands on the door to get her attention.

Shakily, he attached an ecto-bomb to the door, hoping with all his might that she wouldn’t get hurt.

The door blew open, and Danny rushed in.

Jazz’s head swiveled to look up at him, her eyes narrowed.

He slipped the goggles up and his bandanna down, exposing his face as he came to kneel beside her.

Slowly, her expression shifted to shock.

“Jazz,” he creaked, his broken vocal chords cracking painfully as he spoke, “it’s me.”

She looked at him like a deer caught in the headlights.

“Danny?”

He nodded, pulling her into a hug, careful not to let the shrapnel dig into her skin.

“I thought you were…”

“Very heartwarming,” Mr. Freeze snapped, “but now isn’t the time. We’ve got to go, now.”

Jazz nodded, leaping to her feet. Danny stood as well, slipping his mask and bandanna back on, and grabbing onto one of her arms for support.

They left the cell, Danny doing a double-take as he saw the frozen-over pathway that they had just come from. He looked to Mr. Freeze, tilting his head questioningly.

“There were guards,” he said flatly. “Now hurry up, we need to get out of here.”

Derringer grabbed the two of them, dragging them along as he sprinted through the hallways. They had to take a bit of a detour, coming out of the main entrance instead of the side one they had entered.

Unfortunately, there was an active gunfight going down.

Danny was roughly pulled behind a desk, just barely dodging a few rounds.

His hands shook as he pulled a small ecto-bomb from his bandolier, priming it and throwing it at a small grouping of night guards. They cried out as the pure ectoplasm collided with them, covering their bodies in burns.

The smell, while familiar to Danny, was still horrific.

They took a few shots off at the night guards, trying to take them down. Their group was efficient, but with the rate they were going at, it wasn’t going to be enough. Only adding to that, the gun Mr. Cobblepot had prepared for Mr. Freeze had broken after just a few uses, leaving them unable to create an ice wall.

Then, Danny heard the sound of a gun’s safety being turned off behind them, and his vision went white.

He grabbed onto Jazz and Derringer, making them intangible right as the night guard opened fire.

Waves of nausea hit him all at once and he doubled over, his vision swimming. Danny was only dimly aware of Jazz taking the guard down with a high kick right to the head, and Derringer pulling him into a protective hold.

Ignoring everything, he pulled the last of the large bombs from his bag, throwing it into the air, pulling everyone behind the desk.

The entire room went white.

Danny’s ears rung as he scrambled out from behind the reception desk, dragging Jazz with him.

Luckily, none of the hired hands on his team had gotten injured, but the guards…

Danny looked away, trying to ignore the taste of bile in his mouth.

It was fine. He was fine. Everything would be okay.

The next few minutes were a blur. He knew that he had puked only a few seconds after they had left the building, and that Derringer had picked him up afterwards, carrying him to the truck with Mr. Freeze and Jazz in tow.

Danny’s entire body was wracked with tremors, an unbearable phantom pain passing through the still-healing surgical wounds in his head and torso like lightning. He dry-heaved, shivering uncontrollably.

They drove off soon after. Luckily, no one had been left behind. Someone, probably Derringer, helped Danny rinse out his mouth and got him a bottle of water to drink, wrapping him in his jacket.

As soon as the truck doors were opened within one of Mr. Cobblepot’s safehouses, Danny became aware of the sound of wailing.

Hopping out of the truck, most of his mind still far away, he saw a man being rolled out of the room on a stretcher. He was one of the people who had been on the other truck, Danny realized.

Beside him was a teenager, probably only a few years younger than Danny, who was screaming and crying uncontrollably. They wailed at Mr. Cobblepot, who only stood there with an uncomfortable expression on his face.

“Oh shit,” Derringer breathed. Danny pulled on his sleeve, tilting his head at him questioningly.

“The guy on the stretcher, that’s his sibling.”

Danny just stared, a hollow feeling deep in his chest.

Jazz, her arms now freed from the straightjacket, pulled him away from the scene. Danny let her.

—

[maraschinotopped]

hello brothership fandom. today i present you with the first proper to-be-multi-fic ive written in ages: 'a one-sided bond'. it is about cozette and whatever the fuck shes going through mentally after the end of brothership, through the eyes of literally everybody but cozette. so you can get the true experience of prying her emotional state out of her as god intended. oh and reclusas back too. hes the reason any of this is happening. yay <3

you can go read the first chapter here. more chapters to be released hopefully in some semblance of time.

it is on google docs because ive never posted anything to ao3 in my entire life. and i never created an account on there in the first place. sue me.

a more fancy, proper summary under the cut:

Cozette is, above all else, a conformer to expectations.

She understands that everybody expects her to return to her Wattanist duties, what she dedicated her life to do. What she was brainwashed to break away from, they say. She knows the reality- it haunts mercilessly, eating away at her- but its easier to accept what other people tell her is true rather than face it. So, she rewrites the truth in her mind. She takes up her Wattanist duties once again, and falls into a familiar routine..

...for all of two days, before Reclusa inexplicably reappears and she can feel herself unravel from the inside out due to the implications.

[sacchariferouspoet]

can we pretend

[kidza]

Working on things for artfight and have this little goober cheering me on in the corner

[verboselocket38]

Based on the Sly Cooper Realtime fandub hehehehe

[moonlightmantras]

as someone who used to be a kris knight truther before chapters 3 and 4 released this is genuinely the first time I've ever had a theory about a game be SHATTERED into millions of pieces infront of my eyes and its so funny because i was so confident in it too. usually when I play games that are still getting updated to add on to the story/even when im watching a show that has episodes or seasons come out in an extended period of time i don't even try to make theories I'll just be like "wow that was a very good piece of media can't wait to find out what happens next" and move on but with the kris knight theory I was just like oh yeah this is canon. this is so canon to me Nothing can ever shake this theory. and then here comes THE FUCKING KNIGHT FIGHT IN CHAPTER 3 and it's like. God Damn It

[lunarharp]

if i just told you i love you would this world change