#Id Pariah

[akysi]

I’ve been chipping away at a bunch of WIPs lately and I got a little burnt out for a bit, but I finally finished the updated reference for my rollerblade racer Tess! :D Much like Nahra, she’s a character I’ve had for a while (since around 2015 I think) but I only drew her periodically and thus didn’t give her the full reference treatment like I usually do for my characters nowadays. I’m glad I could give her an update now though, and a first look at her animal form as well! I had a vague idea for it for a while but this is the first time I've officially drawn it.

[officialroxy]

finished some art of the ghostly dairy queen like a week ago and never posted it whoopsie...

[drill-peck]

dark and ghost type trainers are so exhausting sometimes.

everyone thinks dark types are cool. you aren't a fucking pariah for having a mightyena, it's literally the 5th most common partner pokemon in hoenn. everyone thinks mimikyu is cute. shitloads of professional battlers have gengars.

that's all normie shit. you can have cool pokemon without acting like you're somehow the world's greatest victim for it.

[anissapierce]

Yes my two favorite gay movies r ones i watched in freshman year of community college right before/ when i was finding footing w the lgbt club ... Theres nothing to read into tht

[jackalspine]

GhostKing!danny head cannon @tourettesdog ‘s post got me thinkin about

It’s tradition in the GZ for high ranking vassals of the Ghost King to gift a Royal Mount upon coronation. (Oh also secondary head cannon> the long period of time pariah dark was trapped in the sarcophagus allowed for diversification of types and specialization of ghosts) and while the context why the tradition started has been lost to time, the ghosts SCRAMBLE to adhere to it

(they haven’t done this in a L O N G time and aren’t entirely sure what to do about having a king after hundreds of years??? But Horse???? Oh yeah. They can do horse.)

THIS ALL CULMINATES TO WHAT I WANTED IN THE FIRST PLACE. NEW KING NOW HAS SURPLUS OF FUCKED UP HORSIES IN THE ROYAL STABLES THAT HE HAS NO IDE A WHAT TO DO WITH

(feel free to rb with drawings of fucked up spooky ghost horse of your choosing)

[its-an-art]

[ID: A Naruto comic. Sarutobi stands in a bright white void and says, "Mm, so this must be the after--" He looks forward and sweats. "... life." Looming in front of him are Minato and Kushina, fists in palms and their eyes shadowed but expressions coldly furious. Sarutobi says, "Ah--" End ID]

——

‘I promise to take care of Naruto.’ He said before ditching a four year old pariah alone into an apartment, tossing some money at him, and telling him to figure it out.

It’s a love/hate thing with the Third Hokage when it comes to me.

My art

[porcelana-r0ta]

The Curse of Sight

Summary: When Wes Weston meets Time Drake-Wayne, the dots start connecting. And those dots form a Bat. 

Word Count: 2690

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/44788813

[Part 2]

When Wes Weston's parents divorced, they decided that he should stay with his dad in Amity Park. After all, small town Amity is much safer than big city Gotham, where his mother was moving in order to accept a promotion with Wayne Enterprises. Wes, in order to still see his mom, would visit her in Gotham every summer and every other holiday.

Of course, Amity soon became more dangerous than Gotham could even dream of thanks to the hell portal in the Fenton's basement that killed and bore Phantom, but whatever. No one ever listened to Wes anyway, and he learned to shut his mouth when Sam Manson shoved him against the lockers and asked him what he thought would happen to Danny Fenton if the Ghost Investigation Ward ever believed his “crazy as shit imagination.”

She was still playing the "Wes is crazy" game, even when defending her boyfriend.

Still, she was right. Danny was safer without him trying to convince Amity's negligent populace that Danny was Phantom. (Even if it absolutely drove him mad that no one but him was capable of making the connection between Danny Fenton and Danny Phantom.) So he shut up. He deleted his conspiracy theory blog and even asked Tucker Foley to wipe all remnants of its existence from the internet, a request which his classmate happily obliged. He even said, "I'm glad you're moving on from this whole Fenton-Phantom obsession, Wes."

Professional gaslighters, the lot of them.

So yes, Wes had thoroughly given up on the superhero ID evidence schemes by the time he left to visit his mom after his freshman year of high school. He had made peace with it and settled back into reading mystery novels or movies and solving the case before the protagonists in place of proving Phantom’s ID.

When he came to Gotham, he had to get a new library card so he could keep up with his mystery novel hyperfixation. He happens to take just a little too long in the library, so by the time he has a nice stack of books to check out, it's dark outside.

Great, walking back to my mother's apartment in the dark in Gotham. Seems super safe.

Well, Gotham is no Amity, right?

So he marches on and tries not to be too resigned when he's inevitably yanked into an alleyway even though the apartment is only three blocks from the library.

Classic.

It's just a man with a gun, his face obscured with a hood and a red bandana. He's literally nothing compared to Pariah Dark or Undergrowth or Dr. Spectra or even the fucking Box Ghost.

"Let me guess," he says. "You want any cash I have, right?"

"Kid, shut the hell up and fork over your money," says the man, and Wes sighs. The mugger didn't even wave around his gun or give an impassioned speech about stealing someone's pelt.

"Original," Wes intones. "But I'm fifteen. And everyone knows young people don't carry cash anymore. I guess I could give you my mom's emergency credit card that she gave me, but she did say it was for emergencies only, so."

The man just stares at him. Wes shuffles uncomfortably.

"Oh! And I could just cancel the card before you use it," Wes adds into the silence.

"You don't consider being held at gunpoint an emergency?" the mugger finally asks, looking uncertain.

"Should I?" Wes wonders aloud. Sam had been much scarier when she threatened him.

"You said you're fifteen? And you don't have a Gothamite accent?" the man offers his reasoning, as if it's any kind of logical. He'd fit in well in Amity for that trait alone.

"Gothamites always think they're so superior." He has to roll his eyes. "Guns aren't that scary. You know what is scary? Your whole town being dragged into the dimension of death for three days. This is nothing. This city is nothing." You are nothing. He knows better than to say that last part, though;

"Christ, kid, you're crazy." The man shook his head and pulled the hammer of his gun back. "Just-- give me the watch you're wearing."

Wes sighs again, "Whatever, I'm not fighting for it." It was literally just a cheap Walmart watch. But just as he goes to unlatch the watch from his wrist, a caped vigilante swings down from the rooftops and kicks the mugger straight into the pavement.

The mugger doesn't get back up.

"Thanks, Red Robin," Wes dutifully says, even though he's pretty sure the man was A) not really that much of a threat, and B) going to have serious brain trauma now.

"It's no problem," the vigilante says. "You're a little young to be out this late, though."

Well, that's rude. It's only 7:00 pm. The only reason it's dark at all is thanks to Gotham's pollution problem. (Maybe they should let Poison Ivy just go fucking feral, like Sam suggests.)

Wes doesn't say that. Instead he says: "Didn't you start crime fighting when you were, like, twelve?"

Red Robin sputters, but Wes continues, "And the first Robin couldn't have been more than nine. I have never picked a fight with hardened criminals." Do ghosts count as criminals? Surely not. What right does Wes have to dictate the morals of being from a completely different dimension? "So I think I'm doing better than you in the safety department, no offense."

Well, doing better in Gotham. But the Justice League doesn't need to know about Amity Park, so he'll leave that part out.

"I-- just--" Red Robin struggles for a second, and then clears his throat. "Why don't I escort you home?"

"I'm two blocks away, but thanks. And thanks again for the---" he waves to the unconscious mugger. Definitely brain damaged.

"Yeah, no problem." And then he grapples away.

Phantom's much cooler. Not that he'll ever say that in front of Danny, Sam, or Tucker. Or anyone from Amity.

He makes it safely home, even if he does pretend to not notice the Bat stalking him from above. And of course, once he recounts his tale to his mother, she freaks out that he'd been nearly mugged, and tries to ban him from doing anything in Gotham at all.

"Mom, I can't just stay inside the house all day. I refuse to spend my whole summer on Netflix." He wants to at least go sightseeing.

Her mouth goes into a thin line and her eyes are as fiery as her red hair.

"Fine," she says. "Then you can get a job."

His stomach drops, "What?"

"A job. My floor needs a new intern, and I found just the perfect person."

"No, Mom, you can't," he pleads. "A Wayne Enterprises job? I'll be known as a nepo-baby for life!"

"Well, too bad. You should have thought of that before being mugged."

"Almost mugged, Mom! Almost! Red Robin was there!" When he sees that this point is getting him nowhere, he switches tactics, "Mom, the Waynes are held hostage, like, every other week! Do you really want me in closer proximity to them?"

She lifts her chin and sniffs, "I'll be there to watch out for you. And an intern won't have any reason to be next to a Wayne, anyway."

He groans, "Mom, please. It's my summer vacation!"

"And you're my son. Discussion over. You start in two days."

He groans again, "Do I at least get paid? Or is Brucie Wayne like every other rich white dude out there?"

"Wes, sweetie, you're white--"

"But not rich," he grumbles.

"But yes, you'll be paid. Every position with Wayne Enterprises is paid."

He crosses his arms, "At least there's that, I guess."

His mom walks to him to hug him and kiss his forehead.

"I'll handle the paperwork tomorrow. Don't worry, you'll love it there!"

Well, spoiler alert: he doesn't.

He's basically a go-fer, fetching paper or ink or photos or files and most usually, lunch from across the street or donuts or coffee. Especially coffee. And his mom's coworkers kinda suck because hey, the Wayne's executive PR manager just hired her own kid for a coveted Wayne internship. No one likes the idea of someone being here who doesn't deserve it. So he is really sent on the most stupid, tedious errands possible for an intern.

He called it: he's the resident nepo-baby, beaten only by Brucie Wayne's very own brood of nepo-babies.

Suddenly, just letting that mugger fill him with hot lead doesn't look so bad. Maybe he would have become a ghost! Haunting Danny would have been fun. Or Ember and the others of her nature make it look fun, anyway.

The Fenton thermos part would probably be uncomfortable, though.

"This sucks," Wes mutters to himself, balancing three carrying cartons of Batbucks (Gotham's stupid parody of Starbucks since they have to be special and not like other girls in every aspect possible) coffee with just two arms, staring helplessly at the elevator call button in front of him.

"Need an assist?" calls a familiar voice, though Wes can't place from where.

"Yes, please!" Wes says gratefully, looking up at a face with blue eyes, black hair, and a familiar jawline.

Wait a second.

"Here, I'll get that for you," says the man, who is really more like a teenager, since it's goddamn Timothy Drake-Wayne, co-CEO of Wayne Enterprises at just seventeen years old. "Going up, I assume?" he gives a charming laugh as he presses the up button, the kind one practices to perfection to ace media interviews and entertain the wealthy elite at galas.

"Yes, thank you, sir," Wes says, and takes the time to really study Drake-Wayne's eyes. And sure enough, he can recognize makeup covering up purple eyebags, just like he could on Fenton.

No. Please, Lord, I'll go back to church. Just don't let it be true.

"Yeah, no problem!" Drake-Wayne says, which really just seals the deal. Wes quietly dies inside, and also curses God. "I'm glad to be of service! Interns doing coffee runs really are doing God's work. And there's no need to call me sir. Tim will do just fine."

"Right... Tim," Wes says uncertainly. He kind of wants the elevator doors to open up and reveal a pitch black hole to drop into, but when the bell rings and the doors slide open, it's just the same ol' regular elevator it's always been. Damn.

So. The boss of this whole entire company is Red Robin. Makes sense, seems legit. He figured out that Plasmius was the mayor of Amity, too, didn't he? So why shouldn't all billionaires be playing dress up and fight crime or be the crime? What's stopping them all, really, when wealth is a superpower all on its own?

Wait, fuck. So. If Tim started out as a Robin when he was twelve-ish. And apparently billionaires are playing dress up. Then doesn't that mean...?

Oh, God. Couldn't he go one season without figuring out some superpowered person's secret identity? Is that too much to ask?

And of course, after figuring Tim and goddamn Brucie Wayne out, it's not so hard to see the correlations between the introduction of every other Wayne brat to the debut of each Robin.

He shakily steps into the elevator, "And how do you normally take your coffee?"

"With the maximum amount of espresso the barista can legally give me," is Tim's immediate answer.

Just like Danny.

And even worse, Tim steps into the elevator after him.

"What floor?" he asks, and Wes feels stupid. Obviously he was going to come in: why offer help at all if he wasn't going to push the floor button for Wes?"

"Uh, 73," Wes says.

Tim nods and presses the according number, and then takes one of the cartons from Wes as the doors closed.

Hopefully, any nerves that Wes is showing can be played off as the nerves an intern would get when they somehow get stuck with the Actual Big Boss™ , and then said Boss™ tries to take the shit they're carrying.

"Uh, you don't have to do that," Wes says nervously. "I can carry them all, really!"

"Don't be silly," the literal co-CEO of his workplace says, as if Wes is in some fucked up Wattpad fic. "Again, where would any of us be without the ones who bring us coffee?"

"In bed?" Wes offers nervously. "Sleeping?"

Tim laughs, but his smile looks more like a smirk, "I guess you're right!"

"But seriously, I can carry the coffee. It's my job. And it'll look weird to everyone if they see the CEO helping me do my job."

"It's no trouble!" Tim insists, and then emphasizes his point by stealing the second carton in Wes's hands. "See? And my employees will be glad to see that I value every employee and am always willing to help out!"

Haha yeah, thought Wes. Too bad they'll never know just how much you help out, right?

Finally, the elevator dings, and Wes is released from one prison to another.

Thanks to the normal chaos of working at Wayne Enterprises, no one immediately notices that the co-CEO is carrying the bulk of the load. Instead, they all hone in on the scent of coffee, and they lunge.

"Thanks, Weston!" the few who are clear-minded enough to remember manners manage to say, even as most of them take their orders from a black haired wunderkind instead of a redheaded conspiracy theorist with the curse of Cassandra.

"Of course," Wes says nervously, and then finally some recognition starts sparking in the coffee-hungry eyes of exhausted PR employees who are always trying to handle some wacky Wayne hijinks.

"You're Weston," says his mom's assistant, Jade, pointing at Wes, and then slowly pointing to Tim, "and you're.... Oh, Mr. Drake-Wayne! Here, let me get that for you!" She yanks the empty cartons out of Tim's hands and shoved them into Wes's. Luckily, his carrying carton had been emptied, too, so he doesn’t get coffee spilled all over him and the floor.  "Here, Weston, go dispose of these! Why were you making Mr. Drake-Wayne carry them? It's your job to get coffee, not our CEO's! He has better things to do. In fact, he probably needs to speak to Ms. Rolland."

Ms. Rolland as in his mother, who went back to her maiden name after the divorce.

"Now hold on," says Tim, his eyes alight with anger. "I offered to help Weston out, and I have no need to speak with Penny. I was just helping out one of my employees."

"Oh," says Jade, taking a step back. "Of- of course, sir! Weston, here, I'll take these cartons back. And sir, it's very kind of you to help out."

"I try," Tim says dryly. Wes notices he doesn't tell Jade to not call him sir. "You should probably get back to work."

"Of course, sir." And with the cartons in her hands, she scurries off in the direction of his mom's office, where she'll probably complain about how her kid made Jade look like a fool in front of the Actual Big Boss™.

"Uh, thanks," he tells Tim. "But you really didn't have to help me. It is my job, after all." Unwilling or not.

"It's no problem!" Tim repeats, and Wes wants to bang his head into a wall. "And hey, next time you do a coffee run, forget the others and just grab my order." His words are accompanied by a wink, and Wes is pretty sure it's supposed to be weird rich people humor, so he laughs, and pretends his heart isn’t beating into his ears.

"As much espresso as possible," he plays along, and Tim grins, pressing the call button for the elevator. It hasn't been summoned to another floor, so it opens right back up.

"Have a good day, Weston."

"It's just Wes, really," he corrects, and Tim smiles again.

"Wes," he says, and the elevator doors slide shut.

Cool cool cool. So now he just has to survive two months in Gotham while knowing the entire Batclan’s secret identities.

Cool cool cool cool cool cool....

[mutable-manifestation]

Family at the Core

So I decided to continue the rogues-as-family-with-Danny once they realize he's a baby & flee to the DC universe/Gotham fic.

Parts 1 & 2

Info: AU where you gotta fight ecto with ecto - it’s the only thing that has any effect on them, and it’s part of the reason why the ghosts love Amity so much - aside from the whole “thinking danny was old ghost pretending at being human and openly challenging pretty much everyone by claiming a Living Realm haunt and then opening a stable portal in it” (from their perspective pre-’holy shit he’s baby’ realization) - Danny? Sam & Tucker with ecto weapons? Humans who can and will put up a challenge but won’t try to seriously harm them ala bastards like Pariah & the Guys In White? It’s practically the ideal ghostly vacation spot. 

The Fenton fam are the first to discover how to fight ghosts in their dimension, but DC didn’t have blood blossoms and made the deal w/Pariah before they figured out the ecto v ecto option

This is pre-ID reveals among the JL because it’s funnier. 

Disclaimer: idk how the police work I’m just rolling with what sounds probably like it’d be right.

***

Kitty and Johnny disappear before they can discuss a time for the police sweep, but Kitty <i>had</i> asked for Bruce’s number earlier in the conversation - “To set up that playdate once we’re more settled in” - after Bruce had mentioned the benefits of peer contact for children.

(The complete and utter disconnect from information about humans certainly lent credence to their claim of being ghosts - or at least not humans)  

She’d promised to give him a call once they got their phones set up. Hopefully that would be soon - they really needed to talk about the Lazarus Pit in the building before the kid fell in and died - assuming they truly weren’t aware of it prior to selecting the location. 

Perhaps Bruce could convince them to block it off? If they truly weren’t after the pit, he could ask about setting them up with a better place; make up some excuse about wanting the building for the company.

He makes contact with them and is left with more questions than answers; at least they know where they are now, despite the in-costume team's inability to track them as they left.

Constantine and Deadman arrive together <i>less</i> than an hour later, managing to arrive at the Batcave at the same time as Bruce’s group.

Constantine twirls an unlit cigarette between his fingers as the footage of the Joker incident plays.

It stops twirling when the lunch lady appears on the screen.

His lips form a grim line as he watches.

“Anyone ever told you you’re the unluckiest bastard this side ‘a the pond?” Constantine asks, turning to Batman once the first video concludes.

“No.” Is Batman’s humorless reply.

“Don’t leave us in suspense here, Conny,” Nightwing slides closer to lightly elbow him in the side. “Is Damian Wayne’s doppelganger the most haunted kid in America or what?”

Robin, for his part, crossed his arms and continued sulking - as he had been since Batman had read them in on the existence of JL Dark and verified that ghosts were indeed real.

“Most haunted kid this damn dimension, Bird boy,” Constantine answered, stowing his cigarette. “Those-” he gestures to the now-blank screen “-are Infinite Realms Ghosts. They aren’t like Deadman here, they’re about a million times worse.”

“Hey!” Deadman protests.

“They come from a place they call ‘The Infinite Realms’ - big shock there. Their kind haven’t been seen in this dimension for tens of thousands of years now; most people just think they’re myths by this point. I only even know about it because my thrice-damned house wouldn’t stop throwing a book on the subject at me until I read it a few years back.”

He puts the cigarette away in favor of crossing his arms.

“The Realms are said to be connected to every dimension there is, and legend has it that way back when we got a lot of visitors from their side. Had a lot of names - the era of chaos, the age of disaster, whatever you wanna call it. They treated this dimension like a plaything, and there was nothing anyone could do to stop them. 

Nothing worked - salt, holy symbols, the magics of the time, etc. Supposedly, someone even tried summoning a demon and watched the thing get hunted. Realms ghosts were leagues more powerful than any of the other known beings at the time and no one could find a way to fight them. The only reason they left was because some group made a deal with their king - no details on what the deal involved other than getting them to get lost.”

“So we are simply supposed to hope that their king isn’t too busy dealing with the infinitely many other dimensions they are apparently hooked up to to come get a few strays out of ours?” Robin questions icily.

“It means you’re simply supposed to give me a chance to do some more research - I only skimmed the one book to get the house off my back. What I read wasn’t promising, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t more useful information buried somewhere.” Constantine replies with an eyeroll. “For now, if they want to play house with some poor bastard? Wayne’s got enough kids to know how to give good enough advice they don’t accidentally kill him in the meantime. Infiltrate their playdates if you’re that worried. And look on the bright side! They took care of your clown problem. Now, you said you had two videos?”

“Yes,” Batman answers tightly, bringing up said second video. “We managed to get footage of their meeting with the Waynes.”

The second watching was far less eventful.

Until the very end, when Kitty and Bruce shake hands and Constantine lets loose a stream of curses.

“What? What’s wrong?” Red Robin demands.

“What’s wrong is that Brucie Wayne is dumber than a sack of damn bricks.” 

The batclan members make various coughing/strangled noises at this, save for Batman, who remains stoic. 

“Who the fuck meets a self-declared non-human entity and shakes on a deal.” Constantine drags an exasperated hand down his face. “Make sure Wayne knows his ass needs to buy them that building asap or Ghost Girl gets to make him dance to whatever tune she wants; break a deal with a dealmaker and they get controlling shares in your soul.”

“I see,” Batman says, “We’ll get in touch with him again after this; we need to discuss the police sweep of the Yuyan building anyway. If direct observation will help, he should be willing to bring you along as a civilian friend.”

Constantine looked at him like he had three heads.

“Not a chance in hell, Bats.”

He backs away from the table toward the cave’s Zeta tube.

“Oh! Oh, me! Pick me! I wanna meet the new ghosts!” Deadman shook his arms wildly, doing loops in the air.

“The visibility spell won’t last that long and we don’t know if their kind of ghost can see you without it. Also, we were in the middle of something. We already detoured. Let’s finish the job and then we can come back and play ghost party 2: yet another pain in my ass edition, yeah?” 

“Awwwwww,” Deadman slouched sadly before zipping into the tube with him.

“Great. Have fun, try to get along with the new neighbors, don’t shake any hands, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, yadda yadda, aaaaaand bye.”

And with that, they were gone. 

“Well that’s not ideal,” Nightwing mutters.

The meeting had at least answered one question.

Now for the other two dozen.

---------------------

Kitty wants to get this cop sweep over with as soon as possible.

The others are hesitant at first - or territorial, in Walker’s case - but a little fast-talking has him all for the idea. 

The chronic rule-follower had only taken to making his own rules because of the zone’s inherent chaos and lack of real, broader government. In Gotham there are rules pre-made to follow, to enforce. He eats it up.

He’ll be obsessed with being law-abiding once he’s done studying up, but Kitty had been headed towards a future in law before her own death. She was well aware that it would take him - even with the aid of an eidetic memory - a minimum of months to read enough to actually start enforcing anything. 

And until he’d read it all? Kitty was free to make him paranoid about missing a later subsection to create her own Walker-loopholes.

Once he’s on-side, he practically carries the argument for her. She only pipes up again to mention how “the baby would probably be a lot more comfortable with a stable, uncontested home.”

Walker does his own sweep of the building, opening cabinets and hidden passages and drawing attention to weapons and other hints of crimes-past and Kitty hovers over Technus’ shoulder as they hash out the details of how best to lure in the police.

The Box Ghost leads the others - except Ember, who ‘s on baby-watch at the pool - in packaging up everything they want to keep to be phased into the ground under the building.

Arguing took most of the time and it’s only the work of another two hours to have the entire building ready for the cops to peruse. 

In the end, they decide setting off a small bomb by the entrance is the easiest way to draw police attention - they’ll come investigate, when no one responds they’ll have to check it out, they’ll find the weapons and cult-like documents and murder records Walker had located sitting out in the open, et voila: wanted owners and building up for grabs.

They, of course, will be invisibly watching the whole thing.

Danny hasn’t left the pool since their arrival and they don’t want him to, so he stays there with Johnny on watch to make them both invisible if and when anyone enters that room.

It goes off without a hitch, and by 11 o’clock Kitty is flying to a nearby roof to call Bruce and remind him of his end of the bargain.

***

@yjfk @fisticuffsatapplebees @little-pondhead @avery-isastupid-name @queenofdiscord @samgirl98 @inkyunicorn @mimilikey @aconitewolfsbane @miraculousandmore @someonebored0100 @wildbacon-blog @fleshybeing @vala-dreams @ironicvixen @blurblurbblurrrr @ectoplasmic-knife

[aethertetsuya]

I'd like to know if there is any fic where:

Everything blows up in Danny's Face (Parents die before they could correct their research, he loses his Amity friends, runs away)

He ends up in Gotham. Batman tries to help him but keeps pushing him away due to his distrust of Billionaires.

In the end he is Capured by the heroes because there is no proof that Ghosts can be good. He dies

BUT IS REINCARNATED IN A TIME LOOP, like just after Pariah Dark's defreat.

TMLSS: Danny is stuck in a time loop (like those Manga/Manhwa) where he has to learn to trust others and NOT shoulder everything. (Most fics Portray Danny to be distrustful of adults, thinks he, and his friends, always know better)

Id like him beaten down to the point that he grows up, matures, and learns that its okay to share his troubles, have adults to look after him, and just not be too OP/BAMF.

[icharchivist]

I don't know Azuma but he looks both dangerous and highly kissable

oh you have no idea.

he's one of the most guys of all time.

He's voiced by Tetsuya Kakihara, who also voices Elmott in gbf.

He's part of one of my favorite song of the game, where he has a gay duet about vampire yearning with Tasuku (voiced by Takuya Sato, of Lu Woh's fame on here). And who wouldn't want a gay vampire duet with those two.

For the "fun" fact about him, Azuma is a cuddle therapist. It means that he sleeps with people to listen to their woes. He says the job is fully innocent, while he's also treated like a pariah for being into a shady branch of jobs. This job also gives him a lot of connection and we're basically sure he has at least some clients who dip into illegal stuff because he can pull some strings to have a false ID made for example. Despite his job being "wholesome" he also talks a lot about having sex with people and trying all sort of things so there's that too.

But the reality of Azuma is that he's actually extremely closed off. His family died when he was really young and none of his relative wanted to take him in, so he basically wrote himself down as fully alone and unable to connect with people. Still, he craves for human connections, and it's why he picked his job. He can't personally be vulnerable about himself, but he's here to listen to anyone and help them going through their problems. He also have night terrors when he sleeps alone, which is another reason he picked up this job.

he dropped everything to become an actor in our company after seeing two members of the Autumn Troupe fight for each other, and realize he was kinda jealous of them, of being able to connect with others, to trust others while vulnerable.

He joined the Winter troupe afterward, troupe famous for struggling to connect with one another because they all have raised their walls super high. Azuma himself struggles to fit in, as everytime he feels like he's getting too close he worries of what he might lose and he ends up shutting himself down, ghosting people, thinking about leaving.

But he's fine. This is fine. The Winter Troupe has his back.

Anyway the whole "therapist so he can read you like an open book, giving the illusion of intimacy to others because he's damn touch starved, will be the type to throw sex and flirty jokes at you to distract you from seeing him as vulnerable, while also in mourning" means that in my perfect gbf x a3 collab event that will happen one day i want him and Belial to meet. They'll drive psych warfare on each other and/or have sex and i need to see it for reasons.

As for dangerous part this is my favorite bit about it. Sakyo in this scene is a Yakuza btw and they're playing a Yakuza themed boardgame:

He's one of the most guy of all time. Thank you for your time.

[meme-force-99]

Hello! I was wondering, do you guys relate to your chosen Bad Batch member? Like...Do you guys feel like the character represents you in a way, or that they represent a part of you you can't show or feel but wanted to?

Sorry if this sounds weird I'm not very good at this

I enjoy helping people. It's how I ended up here on MF99. But I also have a sarcastic side that loves to come out and play. So, yes. I relate to Echo rather strongly.

-- Echo's mun

I'm nothing close to being as cool as Phee, but it's fun to pretend that I always know what to say and have oodles of confidence. If only!

-- Phee's mun

superiorsniper is how my subconscious responds before I reconsider and say something less snarky instead. I do my best work here when I don't think.

-- Crosshair's mun

^^ In classical Freudian psychoanalytic terms, that act of "reconsidering" occurs as your Ego overcomes your Id. Some would argue that it is the Superego in this case which supplants your Id, but I find that conclusion to be reductive. A more academic reading of the text reveals that the Ego mediates between the other two, preventing us from acting on our basic urges (created by the Id) but also working to achieve a balance with learned moral and idealistic standards (created by the Superego).

Sorry, what was the question?

-- Tech's mun

Hondo is much more confident, funny, and glamorous than I will ever be. If you knew me irl you'd be surprised I picked the mostly-comedic-and-rarely-given-the-weight-that-he-deserves kind of character. Writing for him is always a challenge, but a challenge I enjoy.

-- Hondo's mun

I have a desire to destroy my enemies and snark at others. I also have a lot of trauma... so kind of relatable.

-- Maul's mun

I like that Wrecker seems to be the most emotionally mature, he isn't afraid to feel what he feels. He's unapologetic about it, he's curious and he's fun. I dunno if I am like that, but I think I want to be. It's something to strive for.

-- Wrecker's mun

I can't relate to simultaneously being a social pariah and a celebrated Imperial officer, but I think everyone can relate to having ups and downs in their lives and wondering which part of the roller coaster they are going to experience next.

-- Imperial Echo's mun

Well, yes and no. While I hate cruel and unjust authority figures and would never work for or otherwise support the Empire, I also really love “bad guys.” But, I am not a bad guy, or at least I hope not. Tech is a challenge on occasion to get just right, but there’s something about this AU version that just does it for me. I get to exercise my brain and put my research skills to good use while also having room to indulge in the more depraved parts of my personality in a fun and safe way. It’s where the “rizz” lives. I’m naturally a bit dirty-minded. >D

-- Imperial Tech’s mun

Heh. Somedays, I don’t know where he ends and I begin.

-- Shriv’s mun

[akysi]

Starting the 2023 art train with a BANG! ❄️💥🔥 (one month into it lol) This was purely by coincidence, but I find it funny that I was working on a piece featuring my tiger and bunny themed characters right around the Lunar New Year switch between those two animals 😂 Happy accidents!

After a strong start with the line art, the devil was really in the details on this one. I kept going back and revising so many tiny aspects of it until it felt done, but it shaped up to be one of my favourite pieces to date! 🤩

I always seem to forget that I can do (and really enjoy doing!) angular art styles like this, but this series’s characters in particular seem to really take to it, so maybe I’ll incorporate it into the style for the series as a whole. Either way, I love thick and sharp line art. :D I really wanted to push the poses to keep the energy going too! I also took a bit of inspiration from the style I used for my Huevember Contrast pieces back in 2019, but upgraded it a bit here. Hope you like! <3 Available on my Redbubble!

[ohheyfullmetal]

TW: CANNIBALISM, GORE

So… in Toilet Bound Hanako-kun, in order for another ghost to take over another ghost’s realm (essentially their lair), you have to eat the corpse of the original owner. I didn’t add pictures of it here because they’re kind of gory and it would spoil, but in TBHK, this literally means the entire body itself. This has so much potential for Danny Phantom, in my opinion, for those who are into the more horror/angst type stuff. Can you imagine, since Danny’s “lair” is Amity Park, that every time a ghost came through the portal, they’d attempt to kill him and consume his body in order to take over? And when Danny defeats Pariah Dark, what if the only way to fully stop him from resurfacing is not to lock him up, but to eat him? If you want to make it even worse, what if Danny is forced to do this with every rogue? Maybe he refuses to do it at all, and Dan is the version of him that gives into the urge? Or it could be extended even to the DC crossovers- imagine Danny deciding to leave Amity because of his parents or some other reason, and coming across Lady Gotham. One way or another, whether it’s by her request or something went wrong, Danny ends up having to eat her. He takes over as the new spirit of Gotham afterward. Imagine outsiders finding out about this whole process. I think the idea itself is so versatile and could really be used in any facet of the fandom, depending on where you want to go with it. Just a thought.

Photo ID: Yugi Tsukasa from Toilet Bound Hanako-kun is holding out a flaming heart, and his hands are covered in blood. There is a speech bubble that reads “you have to beat up strong supernaturals and eat ‘em.”

[thepinkhaired-rayofsunshine]

DP x DC Fanfic Idea?

im not interested in writing my own dpxdc fic, i just dont think id write it so well and i wont be able to type for a bit soon, probably, BUT i do have an AU that might b fun? so like different universes, danny's from a universe that doesnt have soulmate marks, batfam member (or whoever else, i just like batfam best!) is from a universe w soul marks. this much ive seen before, ofc, and its not new!! but like, for some reason, the arm that has danny's soul mark (bc im imagining the soulmark as like, either the persons name or they can write on it or smth), doesnt work, like hes never been able to use it, and always has it up in a sling. but anyway, he also notices the soulmark markings like name or writing or w/e, all the time, but doesnt know what to make of it. his parents (A+) assume its haunted but cant do anything to fix it despite putting danny through multiple, traumatizing, ghost procedures to try n draw it out. As he gets older it becomes less frequent, and he wears long sleeves to hide it anyway, to avoid the attention of the bullies who still go after him. bc of all the procedures from his parents, dannys super used to being in the lab, and when he goes in the portal, it was almost out of spite. like, wow look, yet another thing my parents couldnt make work! and during that, he bumps the switch and goes through the accident. and then yknow, smth happens and he leaves his own dimension, either by accident, force, or smth else (maybe dan succeeds, maybe pariah shoves him through a portal to get him outta the way, etc) and he ends up floating around gotham either injured or just grieving or dazed, trying to figure out where he is. and he eventually realizes his arm works here too for some reason, but in human form its still extremely weak bc ofc, hes never used it as a human, so he still doesnt use it much. the muscles are all but atrophied, bc it likely only moves passively, when someone else manipulates it, or danny uses his other arm to do exercises on the limb.

on the other hand, the batfam member doesnt understand y their soulmate never responds and when they do write on their arm, it feels somewhat distant. When they pick up the mantle, they decide its for the best and only occassionally put something down just to check in, after hard battles or big events n stuff until on day, something happens and they feel as though their connection is not so distant. in fact, suddenly, marking on their skin feels almost like static. they find danny and recognize a mark on his arm EXACTLY like what theyd drawn, or their own name or w/e, on this weirdly disoriented kid

and maybe, maybe the reason danny can use his arm in ghost form, is because when he accidentally activated the portal, he bumped his bad arm into the switch. and when he got his scars, the batfam member got a matching set of ecto plasmic green lichtenburg marks all over their matching arm.

[aristotels]

Of course all problems and inequalities are direct consequence of modernity and in the past those who are now considered undesirable were considered divine and definitely weren't treated even worse and didn't have access to anything that resembles accomodations. Let's bring those times back!

In Ancient Rome specifically there was no hospitalisation, yes, but also people who were considered mad couldn't make financial and legal operations on their own at all and couldn't be citizens, and were considered pariahs by their communities. This is not to say that you are wrong because you picked the wrong time to see as "when things were better", it's that just because what causes problems now is capitalism doesn't mean that before it people were always kind and caring, everything is much older.

(Or that removing the money would fix everything on its own, for that matter)

are you literally so stupid to fail to see my point

the point isnt "LOOK WHAT THEY TOOK FROM US" the point is that fears and delusions depend on the society youre brought up in; and also sorry that a 5 sentences tumblr post didnt go into history of medical malpractice, it was a lighthearted post made by someone with those very issues

yeah, if i lived then, then id have a different delusion more fit to those times - but it would not resemble my current paranoia or nightmares of being drugged or talked to the way ive had medical staff talk to me bc those things are specific to our society.

(Also you can still have your rights denied for being mentally ill today as well?????? what happened to free britney??? And like My family doctor once literally suggested to my dad to involountary check me into psych ward which was smth my psychiatrist at the time was very much trying to avoid because he KNEW how dehumanizing that is, he spent more than sn hour trying to figure out if my visions of suicide were actual suicide risk or intrusive thoughts; telling me later that he was willing to gamble such a huge risk and responsibility he would have to take in case i actually did smth to myself - just to keep me out of the hospital stay because he worked there and SAW how dehumanizing it is. because getting in the ward here doesnt mean youre done when youre out, this shit affects FUCKLOAD of things in your life!)

are you really trying to be like "LETS TAKE AWAY ACCOMODATIONS FROM PEOPLE WHO SUFFER WOOW GOOD JOB" in my inbox rn btw considering that i am literally schizophrenic w some other mental illnesses, and that i take fucking meds upon meds for it, including antipsychotics??????? and i am also very grateful for those aids, but even with meds my condition will never be resolved and its severity very much depends on the people/society around me. my delusions while living in croatia might differ from someone who lives in the usa.

i literally have no patience or attention or care or anything to argue with you rn, if you wanna discuss political or economical or marxist or whatever theory in my inbox go ahead, but i am NOT arguing about my own fucking lived experience and having you speak to me this way, in an incredibly entitled and dismissive way. its late and im going to bed. i genuinely dont care for your "ummmmm ekshually capitalism is noot thaaat bad-" shit while i keep having episodes on the daily in a big part due to fuckin capitalism. losing my other job is putting me through stress because i have no money, but it also eased up certain aspects of my illness because i dont have to hit hardcore fucking deadlines every week.

p.s. who the fuck is talking about money not existing. if you are gonna bring that up within communist theory and up for a serious discussion thats a whole other thing, but moneyless and stateless society doesnt just rest on tadaaah no money, like theres a reason marx wrote books n essays on that shit and why daddy engels sent him checks. and even in ideal communist world we would still have mental illnesses, but i am absolutely positive that my thoughts would differ than the current ones and that they would probably be less severe. and also why is this implying that communism wont have like the fuckin medication

i usually take care to carefully reply to asks and try to actually give a serious opinion but i gen dont care if i sound incoherent rn, this legit pissed me off

[unwanted-animal]

Billy can feel eyes on him. That’s par for the course. It’s what he wants - that’s why he drives like a bat out of hell, why he wears clothes so tight his body is always on display, why he leave his shirts unbuttoned and why he works out. Hell, it’s why he’s out at a bar with a fake ID. He craves attention. This time it isn’t from a horny housewife, a scandalized parent, or a disapproving teacher, though.

It’s from the town freak.

Eddie Munson is a few years his senior, still not old enough to buy beer but close enough the owner of the bar lets his band play on weekends. He shouts out lyrics to a handful of drunks, grinning brightly as if he doesn’t have a care in the world. He is in his element, performing with his friends, playing out his rockstar fantasy.

And his rich brown eyes are focused on Billy.

The music is good. Billy likes it, though he wouldn’t admit it to anyone in his circles. He likes metal, and Eddie is the embodiment of the underground metal scene tonight. His curls frame his face like a halo, wild and untamed, and his tight black jeans and torn shirt make him look…

Good.

He looks good, Billy thinks, drinking a beer and leaning against the bar. Another thought he’d never share, not even under torture - he wasn’t supposed to think men looked good. Or sexy. Or want to slide his hands under the ripped black cotton of -

Before he knows it their set ends and instead of helping the guys put away their instruments, Eddie hops off the stage and saunters right up to him. He’s got no game, all the frenetic energy of his performance is gone, but he approaches Billy all the same.

Ballsy of him.

“Hey!” Eddie calls, stuffing his hands in his pockets. Billy idly wonders how there’s even room for that. “You’re not part of our usual audience. Billy, right?” He leans in, hair falling into his face, as he whispers “I’ve seen you on the basketball team.” Eddie winks and straightens back up. He isn’t going to rat him out. Billy breathes a slow sigh of relief.

“And you’re… I don’t know your name,” Billy lies.

“Eddie. Town pariah. Aspiring metal musician. Hookup for whatever you might need in a place like Hawkins.”

Ah. He’s trying to make a sale.

“What have you got, Eddie?”

Eddie places a hand on his arm and leads him toward a booth at the back of the bar, far from the ears of that night’s bartender. He slips into the seat and motions for Billy to follow. Normally Billy would be pissed, but he’s got a decent buzz going and Eddie is cute like minded enough for him to trust him.

“I’ve got bud mostly, but I’ve got some K and some acid back at my trailer. I can get ecstasy but it’ll be a few days, but I don’t do anything harder than that.”

He stares at Eddie, at the way he props his chin in his hand and smiles at him, and Billy starts to feel braver than he has in a while. Since California.

“Why are you the town pariah? Is it because you sell?”

“Nah, nah, man. People would love me for that. It’s ‘cause I don’t go with the flow. You know? I don’t ‘fit in’ to any of the stereotypes we’re supposed to strive for in a small town like this. I’m loud, I cuss, I drive too fast, I blare metal at night, and I don’t care about a nine to five.”

Eddie laughs and shakes his head, and Billy finds himself wanting to touch his hair.

“That’s it?”

“… and they know I’m different,” Eddie whispers. “Can’t even say it here. But I’m a double threat in the dating pool, if you get me.”

Fuck. Billy does. That’s the problem.

“You wanna show me what you got back at your place? I’ll race you there,” Billy says, lighting a cigarette and taking a drag. The smoke blooms from his plump lips and is it just him, or does Eddie look mesmerized? He grins and licks his teeth, leaving his tongue peeking out for just a moment.

He’s right. Eddie is staring.

“Yeah? You know the trailer park?”

“Kinda. Had a few dates out there.”

“Then race me there. Pay your tab!”

Eddie jumps up and hurries out to the van. He carries the instruments to shows, and everyone else is already gone. Perfect. He turns on the van and shoves in an Iron Maiden tape, and soon he’s screeching down the road toward home. Billy isn’t far behind him, tossing a twenty and a five to the bartender and racing toward his Camaro. He can outrun that big-ass tank of a van, and he knows it.

Twenty minutes later the door to Eddie’s trailer slams open, Billy’s hands on his ass and Eddie gripping the collar of his leather jacket. It’s a good thing Wayne works nights, because neither boy can keep quiet as they kiss and stumble their way toward the couch.