#and then i totaled it and it was dead

[isjasz]

Stellar death

[xshinina]

*Married life playing in the background

This idea was probably funnier in my head

[technically-human]

Red string of fate

Be strong, Niko

[beebeedibapbeediboop]

Spooky season is almost there...who you gonna call?

[jack-enbyfold]

[inkskinned]

at some point it's just like. do they even fucking like the thing they're asking AI to make? "oh we'll just use AI for all the scripts" "we'll just use AI for art" "no worries AI can write this book" "oh, AI could easily design this"

like... it's so clear they've never stood in the middle of an art museum and felt like crying, looking at a piece that somehow cuts into your marrow even though the artist and you are separated by space and time. they've never looked at a poem - once, twice, three times - just because the words feel like a fired gun, something too-close, clanging behind your eyes. they've never gotten to the end of the movie and had to arrive, blinking, back into their body, laughing a little because they were holding their breath without realizing.

"oh AI can mimic style" "AI can mimic emotion" "AI can mimic you and your job is almost gone, kid."

... how do i explain to you - you can make AI that does a perfect job of imitating me. you could disseminate it through the entire world and make so much money, using my works and my ideas and my everything.

and i'd still keep writing.

i don't know there's a word for it. in high school, we become aware that the way we feel about our artform is a cliche - it's like breathing. over and over, artists all feel the same thing. "i write because i need to" and "my music is how i speak" and "i make art because it's either that or i stop existing." it is such a common experience, the violence and immediacy we mean behind it is like breathing to me - comes out like a useless understatement. it's a cliche because we all feel it, not because the experience isn't actually persistent. so many of us have this ... fluttering urgency behind our ribs.

i'm not doing it for the money. for a star on the ground in some city i've never visited. i am doing it because when i was seven i started taking notebooks with me on walks. i am doing it because in second grade i wrote a poem and stood up in front of my whole class to read it out while i shook with nerves. i am doing it because i spent high school scribbling all my feelings down. i am doing it for the 16 year old me and the 18 year old me and the today-me, how we can never put the pen down. you can take me down to a subatomic layer, eviscerate me - and never find the source of it; it is of me. when i was 19 i named this blog inkskinned because i was dramatic and lonely and it felt like the only thing that was actually permanently-true about me was that this is what is inside of me, that the words come up over everything, coat everything, bloom their little twilight arias into every nook and corner and alley

"we're gonna replace you". that is okay. you think that i am writing to fill a space. that someone said JOB OPENING: Writer Needed, and i wrote to answer. you think one raindrop replaces another, and i think they're both just falling. you think art has a place, that is simply arrives on walls when it is needed, that is only ever on demand, perfect, easily requested. you see "audience spending" and "marketability" and "multi-line merch opportunity"

and i see a kid drowning. i am writing to make her a boat. i am writing because what used to be a river raft has long become a fully-rigged ship. i am writing because you can fucking rip this out of my cold dead clammy hands and i will still come back as a ghost and i will still be penning poems about it.

it isn't even love. the word we use the most i think is "passion". devotion, obsession, necessity. my favorite little fact about the magic of artists - "abracadabra" means i create as i speak. we make because it sluices out of us. because we look down and our hands are somehow already busy. because it was the first thing we knew and it is our backbone and heartbreak and everything. because we have given up well-paying jobs and a "real life" and the approval of our parents. we create because - the cliche again. it's like breathing. we create because we must.

you create because you're greedy.

[stregasaurusx]

SPOILERS BELOW

I keep thinking about Niko becoming the Principal, and I think it's really important for the show thematically. Rant incoming. Something I really appreciate about Dead Boy Detectives is that it doesn't shy away from how unfair and unjust the world can be. Edwin is sent to Hell along with his bullies on a "technicality." Charles is murdered because he tried to save someone. And it doesn't stop there. In Port Townsend, they save a little girl, and a witch spends the rest of the season trying to get revenge. The Lost and Found department is only able to catch them because they save the Devlin family; the Night Nurse can't get the paperwork approved until she learns their exact location. In the world of DBDA, doing the right thing isn't necessarily rewarded. Sometimes, it's actively punished. But the show is always clear that it's important to keep trying, to keep being kind, and to keep connecting with other people anyway. So when Niko says, "You never know when the good you do will come back around," she's not saying that the world is suddenly going to be fair. She's not saying that "the universe" is going to magically reward them for good behavior. She's saying that they made a difference in her life, and as a result, now she can be there to make a difference in theirs. The world may not be fair, but WE can be there to help each other. And I think that's beautiful.

[ew-selfish-art]

DpxDc AU: Tim as a child was never given a lot of information regarding the scribbling messy handwriting that appeared over night all over his arms- naturally he came to his own conclusions.

Tim Drake was home entirely alone at 9 years old and was about to go out for the night to test his brand new long exposure camera lens when he sees the writing on his arm. It’s not English, like he assumed it was at first, but it was using the alphabet to represent… Tim isn’t bad at math but this formula is complex for his little genius brain.

Looking at his camera, he decides he can spare a moment to look it up, solve it, and get back out into old town Gotham in time for Batman and Robin’s final patrol lap. He does just that, finding the problem to relate to some aerospace engineering and then quickly deduces what laws and theorems need to be applied. He finds a pen, writes down his findings in much neater handwriting onto his arm, and goes out. It’s barely a remarkable night at all. He gets a much more memorable photo of Robin roundhouse kicking a hench person.

Things just continued on that way. Tim would find some complex math, physics or chemistry prompt on his arm (surrounded by various question marks or notes or sad faces)- he’d answer it as best he could and move on with his life. Perhaps his parents were manifesting these pop quizzes? Perhaps his subconscious felt guilty about abandoning his studies for more Bat related pursuits? Tim really didn’t care to think much about it once he became Robin- there was too much on his plate and too many peoples problems for him to fix.

Notably, however, after the attack at the Tower, the pop quiz appeared and Tim wrote back that he wouldn’t be able to find an answer to this one. It was the only time Tim questioned the markings appearance and it was because the next thing that appeared was “Hope you feel better soon.”

… his parents wouldn’t include that on a pop quiz. Cursed then. Tim decided it must be a curse, whatever, he’d deal with the implications later in life.

Tim then has the worst year of his life, hes 15, no longer Robin and the questions from his curse are getting less math oriented and more… philosophical. A lot of mentions of death that, in hindsight helped him actually grieve, and a lot of theories about dark matter and souls. Tim answers back as best he can but he’s drained and his answers aren’t very good in his opinion. He gets minimal feedback.

It all comes to a point that he’s at a family dinner, Bruce is at the head of the table, Jason has promised just to stay for dessert, Damian hasn’t thrown a single insult his way and Steph was laughing at him- when a new theoretical model appears on his arm.

“You’re just as bad as Bruce, Timberly. Hiding a soulmate from all of us, how fucking typical.” Jason points out, while watching Tim scribble back some math with a question mark onto his arm.

“A what? No, this is just a curse. I get pop quizzes every now and then.” Tim bats away Steph who rapidly approaches and began to analyze his arm (the rest of the family isn’t far behind).

“Drake. Explain how you came to this conclusion.” Damian seems more curious than anything, if his lack of insults was anything to go off of.

“Since I was young I’ve had at least weekly math check ins, I never had a parent or anyone else around so I assumed my parents had me cursed to ensure I stayed on top of my studies. Sometimes it’s physics or chemistry, for a while there it was a ton of philosophy and behavioral psychology.” He shrugs his shoulders.

“Master Tim, I believe the lack of adults in your life has led you towards a false conclusion. That is most certainly a soulmate mark. The individual to whom you are responding is undoubtedly your other half.” Alfred attempts to calm the room before explaining to Tim. Tim isnt sure if he believes the butler, though Alfred only very rarely lied, so he grabs the pen once more. He writes his first question back: “Who am I to you?”

The room waits in anticipation and within moments a brand new line appears on Tim’s arm and he is vindicated: “We do math together???”

——

The reason Danny is failing English is because his built in homework helper sucks ass at metaphors and has apparently never read any classic literature. The tutor on his arm is great at puzzles and math tho.

Danny gets a reply back one night that he wasn’t expecting (Who am I to you?) and he mentions it to Jazz. Who goes insane that Danny didn’t even question it and just went with “meh, probably haunted” as his explanation for the phenomenon for all these years.

Apparently, if Jazz was right, he had a soulmate who was uh, super fucking smart. That was an overwhelming thought.

The next day Danny is in crisis mode and writes back “Wait, WHAT AM I TO YOU??? Can I help on your homework??”

Danny gets vindicated when the writing on his arm presents a shit ton of dates and information for an unsolved Gotham cold case. See, Haunted.

———

Eventually between Danny becoming the top candidate for astrophysics at Wayne Enterprises and Tim Drake being outed as having contributed tips to the GCPD that solved cold cases- they meet and realize just how dumb they’ve been.

[thedoodlebuggo]

hey guys guess who's back

[eyesthecolorofarson]

Soul healing

Damian was angry.

He was one of their best fighters, knew the layout of Arkham like the back of his hand, AND was on good terms with both Riddler and Ivy! Why wasn’t he allowed to help in the breakout? What was the point of making him babysit!?!

Father had said he was to keep the child safe but he’d neglected to say why. And honestly, the child was three months old. Who would be hunting down an infant, why would they be hunting down an infant, and what would they do with an infant? If anyone was after the child, that is.

The infant in question was babbling incoherently and rolling around on her stomach. She squealed and he huffed. All he knew about her was the information in her file, which was surprisingly little. Three months old, no name and orphaned, she was of Brazilian heritage and her blood tests located her place of origin as Blüdhaven. She was moved to Gotham to be fostered, which is one of the stupidest decisions he’s ever heard of.

The foster parent in question was Daniel ‘Danny’ Nightingale. Nightingale showed incredible intelligence, graduating upper primary school two years early and high school in two. Currently a student at Gotham University Nightingale was double majoring in chemistry and aerospace engineering when he decided to apply for a New Jersey foster license, which he was given due to already having one in both Wisconsin and Ohio as well as his incredible record.

Nightingale was in the room with him and the infant. He was 14 years of age and had short black hair much like himself, but Nightingale was disturbingly pale and had almost ultramarine blue eyes. Nightingale was sitting with the child in front of his place on the couch. There was a gate in a circle connected to each end of the couch that contained a multitude of children’s toys and a few books. The infant was currently playing with a keychain-like toy while Nightingale entertained her.

One part of him wanted to sit and stew in his contempt, but the other, the son of the Bat, was deeply curious. What was so special about this child that it warranted him–an Al Ghul, Robin, heir to the mantle of Bat and Demons Throne–to act as bodyguard? Was it her heritage—correction, what was her heritage, because there was no other reason for her to be hunted. What else could it possibly be?

But when he began paying attention to the infant, it made him realize that the child was not the oddity he was sent to watch, but Nightingale. Nightingale acted normal for the most part, but when the infant made a certain sound–a loud shriek–his pupils would retract and slit before expanding again, like a cats. That wasn’t the oddest thing he noticed.

Nightingales teeth were sharp, and the more he babbled and cooed at the infant the more teeth Damian could see. It appeared all his teeth were canines except for the teeth in the normal place for canines. Those four teeth were long and thin, like a vipers. When the light hit his eyes his pupils shimmered, like a cat or an owls. His ears, which were slightly pointy, twitched every now and then. His nails were noticeably sharp as well, and his voice would sometimes distort. As if a record player were malfunctioning. And the infant would respond! Respond in that same distorted tongue. That loud shriek would turn into a two second wail that made his heartbeat rise to his ears and his vision blur. Then she would giggle or coo and it would end. He had to do something. Those wails were coming more and more often now, and she was starting to lose shape.

“What is this?” Damian snapped. “Don’t worry,” Nightingale told him gently, “this is normal for her species.” He blinked and processed his words. Species. She wasn’t human. “I’m surprised the Bat picked up on it,” Nightingale continued, “Humans aren’t usually susceptible to this sort of thing. But I also sorta expected it? Because he’s, y’know, Batman.”

Nightingale smiled sweetly as she shrieked again, her outline blurring and walls shaking. He could feel his teeth rattling in his head. Suddenly Nightingales jaw unhinged with a quick clicking sound, as if his bones were straining and breaking, and an even louder whistle-hissing sound came from between his now many, many teeth. She stopped, her mouth in an ‘O’ and her eyes wide. He didn’t notice before, but an infant her age shouldn’t have teeth. Especially that sharp. And her eyes were a light yellow color, like straw.

Then she giggled, and began babbling like she didn’t just use a sonic voice ability similar to Black Canary’s. “Dawww,” Nightingale cooed, tickling her, “she’s developing quickly! Garalings usually only start fawning when they start walking.” Damian watched warily. He didn’t want to get any closer, in all honesty. His ears were ringing.

But he was curious, so, so, curious. What was a Garaling? What was fawning and why did they do it after they began walking? Could all Garalings do this ‘fawning’? Compared to other Garalings, exactly how fast is she developing? Is early development common?

Start with the most important. “What is a ‘Garaling’?” Nightingale smiled at him again. “Garalings are an extradimensional species that reside in a place called The Valley. They act as lords of nature and patrons of a chosen plant or animal. Her fawning,” he tapped her nose and she giggled, “will soon turn into either an animal sound or a sound of her own.”

“Fascinating,” he muttered, “is it an attack?” “More like a call to arms,” Nightingale leaned back, relaxed, as the infant shook her toy. “Gathering her chosen animal or plant for whatever she needs.” Damian watched her chew on the toy, drooling and babbling.

“What are you?” “I’m dead. Well, sort of. How to explain this…” He thought for a moment. “Think of me….as the line between life and death, but not exactly limbo. More like I move the line. Sometimes more dead, and sometimes more alive. But always a bit of both.” Damian couldn’t help but be reminded of Todd. And himself.

“Your not from this earth.” Nightingale smiled sadly. “I used to be. But not anymore. Even so I can’t bring myself to fully leave, though I probably should.” “Why? What makes you stay?” Nightingales eyes drifted away, back to the infant. “I want to continue the life I never got to finish. Experience the things I never got to experience. Do what I always wanted to do, even if it’s too late.”

He could understand that. Nightingale looked to be his age. To be ripped from life so soon was something he worried about constantly. Knowing that Nightingale was…..He understood wanting to stay, to pretend to be alive.

“What brought her here?” Nightingales face tightened. “Cultists.” He sounded annoyed. “They exist in every world and their always fond of sacrificing children. Even though my summons specifically say if I’m offered children or anyone unwilling I’ll destroy the cult.” It took Damian a moment to understand the implications.

“….who are you?” Nightingale smiled at him again, and for a second his outline wavered like the infants had. “I am Danny Phantom, High King of the Infinite Realms, the afterlife dimension. I rule over everything and everyone who’s died, if they’ve stayed dead or not. I am The Warm Winter, The Space Between, The Brightest Star. I act as Defender Of The Undead.”

“And what do you plan on doing with her? Why did you take her if you do not accept living offerings?” It was suspicious. Even though Nightingale–Phantoms titles painted him as benevolent, and his stance on sacrifice was very pacifistic, Damian knew better than to trust him just on those facts alone.

But he was being very honest, and it made him wonder why. Compared to Phantom, he was microscopic, a nuisance even. Why was he answering all his questions with seemingly endless transparency? “Because her parents were apart of the cult that offered her, which is unfortunately a common case. I had to bring her here because I already have another offering child going to school here.”

“Another?” He tilted his head, eyes narrowing. “How many children have you kept?” He suddenly had a feeling. Not a bad one, just…a feeling. Phantom thought for a moment. “Well the first was Sirius, she’s from a dimension where people are made completely out of star matter. She doesn't live with me anymore since she’s all grown up now, but she’s a really popular singer in the Realms! I can see if she set up her inter dimensional and universal site, her music is great!”

“Casey is my second, he was offered when he was about ten and he’s from a universe that’s essentially the same as this one but everyone has magic. He’s currently in his home dimension in school as well. He specializes in hydrokinese but he’s trying to learn Essokineses. He’s a really quick learner but has a tendency to either give zero or a hundred, no in between.”

“A few months after that I was offered a pair of twins in their twenties. Well, they were built to look to be in their twenties, their actual age is, as of now, seven. Their from a world where hyper realistic androids have no rights and are destroyed if they develop sentience, so when they did they were offered to me because they thought it would get through my rule. They named themselves Poppy and Posies. They don’t like to leave the Realm so their being homeschooled. They really enjoy learning and playing, and Poppy’s favorite thing to do is dance and Posies is jewelry making.”

“I got another infant from a dimension where everyone’s a centaur a few weeks ago. I named her Amaranthe and her lower half’s a sheep! She’s so cute. She’s not the best at walking yet but she loves jumping whenever she can. She likes playing perk-a-boo with the handmaidens. And the child going here is Aiden, he was offered a few months ago. He was originally from Kentucky but everyone in his hometown was apart of the cult and Lady Gotham likes me so we’re here now. He’s still rattled but being on earth helps him so he can stay as long as he likes. He wants to get into a trade school.”

“And this—“ Phantom tapped the infant on the nose, who giggled and grabbed his finger. “Is Velvet! Like I said she’s a Garaling from The Valley. I literally got her two weeks ago so her fake identity is pretty rushed and I think Batman could tell which is why you’re here. But I need to be here for Aiden, so she’s probably going to stay with me for at least another four weeks or until her room in the Realms is ready.”

“You have an adoption problem,” He groaned. God forbid his Father learn about this even though he knew he had to show him the footage being collected from his mask. Phantom laughed. “Probably. But it’s not like I could just give them away to someone else. Well, I could. But I don’t want to. I don’t have any family other than my sister, and she’s still alive. So it’s nice to have people running around the castle.”

He respected it. Even though he was suspecting Phantom was older than he appeared, his physical appearance was probably the age he died at, he was still going out of his way to take in not only traumatized adults and children but infants. He’d never dealt with infants but he had no doubt that they were a handful, even though Phantom said he had handmaidens he didn’t seem like the type to let them do everything.

“Have you had any problems with vigilantes such as myself? I know Batman can be quite forceful and rude if he encounters something he does not understand.” Phantom allowed Velvet to shake his fingers with surprising strength. “Nope! I’m very good at staying under the radar. That’s why I was so surprised when Batman sent you. Like I said, humans aren’t usually capable of picking up on things like the undead. But it’s probably that contaminated ecto you and him are covered in. Can I ask you about that, by the way?”

Contaminated Ecto? “Whatever do you mean by ‘contaminated’? What is this ecto?” Phantom held his hand up and Damian watched, fascinated and horrified, as Lazarus water bled from his skin and rose into a ball. “This is ectoplasm! Every ghost is made of it. It’s our blood, flesh and atoms all in one. Judging by the look on your face you’ve seen it before?”

Damian cleared his suddenly dry throat. “Uh, yes. We call it Lazarus water, and it comes from Lazarus Pits.” Phantoms eyes narrowed. “Pits? Like, a natural or artificial hole in the ground? It doesn’t move or flow in and out? It just sits there?” Damian told him yes and explained the way the League used the Pits, the effects of being revived or healed by the water. By the end Phantoms carefree attitude had left and in its place was someone who held himself like a king.

“Let me put Velvet to bed.” He waved his hand and the gate and various toys began to float and put themselves away as he picked up Velvet and walked away. He was alone for a few minutes, watching as the toys stacked neatly in a toy box and thinking. There was a whole species of people made out of Lazarus Water. Ectoplasm. Pure ectoplasm. What he’d experienced, had contact with, was apparently so corrupted that Phantom had noticed it.

Phantom came back and sat next to him, running a hand through his hair. “Ok, so; ectoplasm has a mind of its own. It connects with and enhances emotions. That’s why a lot of ghosts are angry or sad. Because the ectoplasm connects with the feelings they had when they were dying, and that’s why ghosts are so emotional. It’s all we’re made of. Some people don’t become ghosts but their emotions do. We call those blob ghosts.”

Phantom looked disturbed. “Ectoplasm can’t just sit there or else it’ll start to deteriorate, mold. It’ll become poisonous, borderline radioactive. It needs to be moving and connected with more ectoplasm to filter it out. Yes it does having insane healing properties but it’s not supposed to hurt you. Never supposed to hurt you. Again it has a mind of its own. Most ectoplasm wants to create new life, heal and help. If this Lazarus water is hurting people, it’s because it wants to. And that’s really, really bad.”

“You said it was boiling?” Damian nodded. “That’s also not good. Ectoplasm is supposed to be cold. That’s why most people who contact ghosts feel cold or the temperature drop. I’ve never heard of ectoplasm boiling before.” Phantom looked very troubled. “You said these pools are controlled by the League of Assassins?” At his nod he waved his hand and a small white circle appeared next to him.

Through the circle he could see only what appeared to be a bookshelf. Phantom traced the spine of a few before pulling one out and closing the circle, flipping through the book. Damian leaned over to read. It seemed to be a list of people. At first he didn’t recognize them, but then the name The Sensei appeared at the top of a page labeled ‘The Demons-Al Ghul’

It was a family tree. One he’d seen and studied more than a million times. It showed his ancestors, great grandfather, Ra’s, his Mother, Dusan, Nyssa, even Mara and I’son. And him. Phantom pointed at his name. “Is this you?” He swallowed.

There wasn’t any real point in lying. He already knew, but if his Father found out he’d get in trouble despite the recording showing Phantom had figured it out himself. “Uh, yes. Yes it is.” Phantom nodded then flipped more pages before coming across a map. He folded the page out and Damian saw it was seven small but detailed maps. Maps of the locations of the Pits.

“Holy shit,” he muttered, “Phantom you can not let anyone find this book. If this got into the wrong hands—“ Phantom laughed. “Don’t worry, Damian. These kinds of books are only in the castle library. No one other than me and my family can get in there.” He flipped through a few more pages before coming across one with a sketch of the Lazarus Pits. Phantoms eyes scanned the pages quickly, growing more concerned the more he read.

“Do you have any of these symptoms? The anger, lost time and enhancement?” Damian bit his lip. “I…used to. The Pit rage and blackouts faded after time and I have no enhancement that I know of. But, one of my brothers, Jason Todd…” Phantom muttered the name, opening another circle and pulling out another book. He flipped through it quicker than before and pointed at a page near the back.

“Jason Peter Todd-Wayne?” Damian nodded. Phantom sighed again. “He’s a revenant, an angry spirit that was put to rest and then forced back into life. It’s no wonder these symptoms stuck with him; this Pit probably attached itself to his barely formed core. It’s a miracle his body’s still functioning.”

“What’s a core?” Damian leaned over and red more names in the book, all unrecognizable. “A core is a ghosts soul. Each core has a sort of unique elemental power or structure to them. I have an ice core.” Phantom opened his hand and Damian watched as wisps of ice and snow rose out of his palm.

“Ok, so; a ghosts age depends on how long they’ve been dead for and how developed their core is. So someone who dies at a hundred will suddenly become a newborn ghost. Ghosts get more powerful with time, and depending on how violently they died they might become newborn ghosts who are already really powerful. I was one of those instances.”

Phantom opened another circle and pulled out another book. “Every new ghost will usually search for or be found by an older ghost who’ll become their caretaker or ‘parent’. These ghosts are supposed to teach the new ghosts about their powers, what type of ghost they are, how their religious beliefs will affect their afterlife. I had a really, really old ghost named Clockwork.”

Phantom flipped through the pages again and showed him one. It seemed to be a medical diagram of a ghost. It was fascinating; they didn’t appear to have muscles or organs, but rather this core acted as not only their stomach and heart but their brain. In fact their whole body seemed to be one big vein, the whole thing circulating this ectoplasm throughout it.

“Finding a new ‘parent’ is really, really important. Like I said before ghosts are nothing but emotions. So when we get lonely, it’s like a major depressive episode. We start hurting ourselves and others, we do things that go against our beliefs or moral codes, we do anything to bring any sort of attention to ourselves. Is this similar to anything Jason went through after being forced back?”

“I believe so? I don’t know what he was really thinking, but he definitely did horrible things that he would never have done before.” Damian didn’t miss the wording Phantom used. Forced. Todd didn’t come back to life, he was dragged back. Ra’s wanted to come back, his Father wanted to come back, he wanted to come back. But Todd had been put to rest somehow. Todd had moved on.

“If Todd had moved on before being forced back, why would he react so violently? If he’d been at peace, why all the anger?” Phantom closed the book and pulled out another, flipping through it to another diagram, but this time it was of a core. It was cut up the way he’d seen cells be in schoolbooks. “I honestly don’t entirely know, and I would have to see Jason or take him to one of my doctor's, but I think it’s because of the Pit.”

“As I said, ectoplasm is slightly sentient. But if this Lazarus water is working the same way normal ectoplasm does but maliciously, then Jason’s entire core might be made out of this corrupt ecto. It might have connected with one of his dying feelings, anger, and blew it out of proportion.” Damian bit the inside of his cheek. Todd would not be happy to learn his new soul is made out of mold and corruption. He’d take it the completely wrong way.

“How would we fix something like this? If a core is every organ, how would we get rid of the Lazarus water his very soul is now made of?” Phantom thought again. “Maybe we could flush it? Like, get him pills or an IV of pure ectoplasm and try to push it out. I don’t really know, but I know a doctor who might.” Damian hesitated before speaking again.

“…Would the Lazarus water fight back? Is it sentient enough to do that? What if by doing this it inadvertently harms him?” Phantoms made a displeased sound. He snapped the book closed and put it back in the portal before turning to him. “I don’t know, but I can find out. The book said there’s one of theses Pits in the Batcave, is that true?” He saw where this was going.

“My father would never let you in,” he started, “But you can bring me some.” Phantom finished. “I can get you some transport-safe tubes from one of my doctors, and they can look it over and find out how it works. If we find out a way to purify it, we may be able to use that to purify all the pits.” It was optimistic, but hell, he could use some hope in his life. And if he got caught, the mask footage would be his saving grace.

“If it is for the purpose of curing Todd of his Pit madness, then I will do whatever needs to be done. Where will you get these containers?” Phantom smiled and opened another portal, this time showing what looked like a laboratory table filled with beakers and containers with a green tint. Phantom grabbed five vials with stoppers and tongs. He handed them to him, and then grabbed a rack and gave him that as well.

“Want me to open one to the Batcave?” “If you wouldn’t mind.” That’ll make it far easier to get to and from, and lessen his chances of getting caught. Phantom stood and opened a much larger white circle, and it showed the closely guarded Lazarus Pit that was deep in the cave. He quickly filled the vials and went back in the apartment. “What now?” Phantom secured the tops with ice before replying, “Now I take this to the Far Frozen. That’s where the best doctors in the Infinite Realms are, they’re a group of Yetis.”

“How long will it take you? How long will it take for them to test it?” “I don’t know,” Phantom opened a larger portal, showing a frozen tundra. There seemed to be a large cave of ice in the distance. “But I’ll be back as soon as possible. We’ll find a way to get rid of the Lazarus Pits, and purify your brother. I promise.” He said it with such certainty and confidence that for a second Damian fully believed him.

In a flash of white Phantom’s hair had turned a snow white and his eyes Lazarus–ectoplasm green. He was wearing a black suit similar to a superhero’s with white gloves and boots, and he had what looked to be a crown of northern lights. He had a white cape that’s inside showed stars, and the absolute power he radiated almost knocked Damian down. Phantom smiled at him, reassuringly and calm, then stepped into the portal. It closed without a sound, and Damian was left with his thoughts.

[protect-edwin-at-all-costs]

ITS DONE WHOOOOOOO

I love them all 🥹

All the Edwins!!!!

[technically-human]

Comfort and safety and such things

This one was actually a commission! I had a lot of fun working with such a cute concept

[veniceflytrap]

“i will walk into hell gladly knowing i’ve held heaven in my hands.”

[thepersonperson]

Sukuna is Peak Gap Moe. I’ll never be over this. This bastard talks tough, eats people, and kills like a woodchipper and yet…he is a poetic little sap. Getting mad over an improper haikus, the misidentification of flowers…and confessing his feelings to Gojo Satoru under several layers of wordplay no one except those well-versed in ancient Japanese would catch.

I've been over this in greater detail in Sukuna's Negative Rizz, but @tangsakura added more context in the replies to that post, making Sukuna's use of 凡夫 (bonpu) for Gojo even gayer.

In summary, 凡夫 (bonpu) can be translated as painfully ordinary or unenlightened. But in the individual kanji readings, 凡 is mediocre and 夫 is husband. You could read this as Sukuna calling Gojo his mediocre husband. And that's just the modern readings! The ancient readings...

So you can read this line from Sukuna as the following:

“You were born in an era without me and hailed as 'The Strongest'

1) And yet you turned out to be…painfully ordinary.”

2) And yet you turned out to be…unenlightened.”

3) And yet you turned out to be…a mediocre husband/wife/spouse.”

4) And yet you turned out to be…the ordinary one who could stand by my side.”

Sukuna seems to be saying these things all at once. (It’s no different than the Megumi Activities wordplay he uses with Enchain. Alt. link if the Twitter dies.) Gojo apparently makes him feel very conflicted. He’s boring, he can do better, he shouldn’t even call himself the Honored One, he’s his equal, they’re married. The irony here is that no one except Sukuna can understand this.

[r6eduss]

Sweetness.

•Summary: Daryl and reader haven’t had time for each other lately, because of this the reader begins to have doubts and insecurities but Daryl is quick to ease them. (Fem reader)

•Warnings: 18+, Soft Dom!Daryl, Smut. Major character death spoilers.

•Word Count: 3.1k.

•Setting: The Commonwealth.

•A/N: Guys this is my first fic, I was bored and decided why not make fanfiction soo.. 😭 also inspired by @/corvidcrossbow ‘s I like it long fic 🫶🏼

You had been overly busy, overwhelmed with the labor that the Commonwealth had brought upon you. Having to deal with the changes of when the world just fell was difficult enough, finally adjusting to the wickedness and horrors of this world just to have to adjust to how the world used to be all over again? It’s been a hassle on you and Daryl’s backs.

Before the world had fallen, you were still in college, studying and planning to pursue to become a doctor. When you arrived at the Commonwealth, you had been beyond confused what your occupation before the apocalypse had anything to do with why you should’ve been accepted into this place, soon finding out that you would receive a position of employment that would be just like what you used to be before everything went down.

Not only have you been beyond exhausted with your position, lately Nabila has needed extra assistance with her and the children, and who are you to decline? You’ve always been a shoulder that your family can lean on.

Today was finally one of those days that you had off, and of course you had spent the majority of your day babysitting the children. You didn’t hate spending time with them, in fact, you enjoyed it. But you were beyond exhausted and craved some time alone with your unofficial husband, Daryl.

It was around around 9:45 pm at night, and you at last entered your shared apartment. The silence was loud, feeling ringing in your ears from it. Judith and RJ had been at Carol’s house for the day, and Daryl had been out being a soldier for our community, so you were accompanied with quietness and some time for yourself. It was honestly quite comforting, considering how overwhelmed you have felt lately.

You had sat down on your couch, pinching the space between your eyes that rested at the top of your nose and closing your eyes. “God..” you let out a sigh, feeling drained and spent. You gave yourself a couple seconds of emptiness then proceeded to get up and head for your shared bedroom with Daryl.

You placed your bag around one of the clothing hangers in your closet, and made your way to your dresser. You picked out a pair of panties, and a nightgown. With your clothes in hand, you headed towards the bathroom. Looking at yourself in the mirror, you gave yourself a moment to reflect on all the events that took place before finally arriving at the Commonwealth. All the loses.. Carl, Glenn, Abraham, Sasha, Jesus, Tara and the list still goes on! You can't help but miss them and wish they were here to see the community that has been built here.

You catch yourself lost in your train of thought, and then work on stripping yourself of your clothes. You move to turn on the water, giving it a moment to get warm, then getting into the shower.

After your shower, you quickly slipped into your clean nightgown and panties. You took your used and dirty clothes and stuffed them into a basket, where you and Daryl’s laundry needed to be done. Standing next to your’s and Daryl’s queen sized bed, you quickly got comfortable under the sheets. A sigh left your lips, thinking of how much your mind and soul craved Daryl. Lately, you guys have had no time for yourselves.

You and Daryl have known each other since the quarry in Atlanta. At first, you thought he hated you, but sooner or later you realized that he isn’t one for communication. He showed his acts of love through his actions, always making sure you were safe.

Since the quarry, you had always stuck by his side. Sticking up for him when Rick, Glenn, T-dog and the others decided to leave his brother Merle on a rooftop alone. Daryl had refused your company at first, but with time, he warmed up to you and tolerated your presence. And eventually, he found himself falling for you, but of course you were the one to make the first move on him.

When you guys had arrived at the prison, that is when you made your move. It took a lot of self sabotaging on Daryl’s part before you guys had become official. And even then, Daryl isn’t particularly fond of label’s.

It had taken a lot of time for Daryl to start opening up to you even after you guys had established your love for each other. It was also awhile of staying at Alexandria for you guys to start getting intimate. Eventually with each other’s time together, you learned all about his trauma’s, the backstory of his scars and his childhood.

You were utterly in love with Daryl Dixon, and he was in love with you, he just had trouble saying those things out loud.

Your train of thought was interrupted by the sound of the door opening, your tummy immediately felt as if it was filled with butterflies while blood rushes to your face, knowing that it was Daryl finally coming home.

You lift your head up as Daryl enters your shared bedroom, he looks tired, exhausted.. His hair is laced with sweat while he’s in the commonwealth’s standardized white-color armor. You’ve always thought he looked quite handsome coming back from a run.

“Hey..” you begin to sit up, now facing your lover.

“Hey.” he gruffed out. Your heart began to ache as your thoughts were laced with worry. Daryl has been so worn out lately, and has barely had any time to see you. What if he was starting to lose the attraction he had for you? What if he was starting to realize he’s interested in someone else? That possibility could become a reality considering you found yourselves in a community of 50 thousand other people.

“So, how was the run today?” You try your hardest to ease the silence, the quietness that had comforted you earlier was no longer comforting. Your nerves began to eat you from the inside out that you began to fidget with your thumbs, that’s something you’d always do when you were nervous, everybody knew.

Daryl knew.

“It was ‘ight.” He quickly took notice of how you began to fidget.

“Wha’ is wrong with ya?” He looked right into your eyes, his tone infected with slight concern. He was waiting for your response as he began to take off the annoying armor that he was required to wear.

Your heart race began to speed up, worried that he would view you as insecure and pathetic, you decided to avoid telling him what you were truly worried about. “Nothing! Just.. had an exhausting week.” You hoped he’d take your answer and roll with it, you were deathly afraid of Daryl seeing you less than you are.

After Daryl finished taking off the armor, he decided to accept the answer you gave him for now. He was tired, and was in no mood to go back and forth.

“Daryl, you should probably take a shower.” you just wanted him to relax for once, even with Ezekiel being the leader of this place, he never once let his guard down and you just wanted him to finally rest.

“Hm. Ya wan’ to get in wit’ me?” Daryl is never one to initiate things, but one thing he always loved was being able to share a shower with you. It felt romantic. Intimate.

“I already showered. We can cuddle when you get out?” You didn’t think anything of your response, well that was until…

He let out what seemed like an annoyed grunt. He took his clothes and headed to the bathroom. You’ve never been more anxious. Did what you say bother him? Did you piss him off? You released an irritated grunt from your lips as you hear the shower head turn on. You decide to lay back down, feeling your brain fall into a spiral of unpleasant anxious thoughts.

It’s been almost 20 minutes, and you’ve been in a complete swirl of negativity. Your chest felt heavy, feeling your heart completely sunken. Were you having an anxiety attack? You eventually hear the shower head stop and you could’ve sworn you were on the verge of passing out, since when were you so nervous around Daryl? You’ve always been super comfortable around him, feeling safe. Maybe it’s because of all this time trying to survive and to keep our loved one’s alive.

Hearing the sounds of him getting dressed, you can’t help but feel more uneasy. You were never fond of people being angry at you, and especially Daryl of all people. Sooner or later, the bathroom door opens. You look up and see Daryl wearing a regular dark gray T-shirt with gray sweatpants, he never was one to sleep without a shirt, considering his scars.

He walks over to the basket of clothes that needs to be washed, and puts the clothes that he was wearing under the uncomfortable set of white armor in the basket.

He looks in your direction, catching you once again fidgeting with your thumbs.

You refuse to look at him, feeling strong tension between you and him. Your breath hitches as you feel the bed dip, noticing that he was getting right into bed, next to you. He starts to get comfortable, getting under the sheets and closer to you.

The both of you lay completely flat on your backs, That’s when you feel him put his arm around your shoulder and pull you closer to him, head laying on his chest.

“I know somethin’ is up.” He takes your hand, making it rest on his chest. “Talk t’me.”

All the warmth went immediately to your face. It felt as if you stopped breathing for a moment, you didn’t wanna be difficult, that’s when you decided to just tell him about your worries, he has a right to know after all.

“Daryl, I'm scared.”

“Scared of wha’?”

Taking a deep breath, you continue. “I’m scared that one day you’ll realize that maybe i’m not enough for you.” You pause for a moment, then resume. “And, are you annoyed with me?”

His eyes widened a bit, it’s not what he was expecting. Not in the slightest. He lifts his head a little.

“Nah, m’not annoyed with ya.” He proceeds to lay on his side, facing towards you. “An’ why are ya thinkin’ ya wouldn't be enough?” From the bottom of his heart, he doesn’t have a single clue where this is coming from. Daryl is the most loyal person on this shitty earth, and he can swear up and down that he loves you to death.

“I don’t know.. We’ve been so busy lately getting used to the Commonwealth, and there are so many people here! So many options.. Maybe eventually you’ll realize that i’m not what you truly want.” Shamefully, the truth escapes your lips. You’ve never felt more insecure. Usually, you felt secure within your relationship, but the stress has truly gotten to your head.

He moves closer to your face, and puts his hand on your cheek, cupping the side of your face. His thumb gently rubbing against it.

“Don’t want nobody here but you.”

Your heart skips a beat, Daryl isn’t one for being upfront, and he isn’t the greatest at comforting people, but he loves you, and he’s very sure of that.

He locks eyes with you, admiring you and your beauty. For a second you could’ve sworn he had stolen a glance at your lips? Or maybe you were seeing things.

Your mind feels more at ease, and you break out a slight giggle “I’m sorry. I know I sound stupid, I just miss you.”

He uses his other hand to move your hair strand out your face, and cup the other side of your face, moving closer. “Ya’ don’t sound stupid.” He’s quick to lean in, closing the gap between the both of you, finally stealing a kiss from you.

His lips are kind of chapped, but oddly enough, still soft. The kiss was soft and tender, only having pure love behind it. Your eyes flutter open, just to see him staring at you. “I love you.”

Your lips curve up into a passive and cute smile, he never says it first.

“I love you too.”

You lean in for another kiss, the both of you have been so touch starved these past couple days. The kiss was gentle and sweet, but more ambitious. Even the slightest things about Daryl can get you going, and you sure as hell are in need of some sex. Especially after these couple weeks.

You lean more into the kiss, and that’s when you hear a grunt come from him. You swear you could turn into a puddle right then and there.

Eventually, you pull away, obviously needing to breathe. “Daryl, i’ve missed you.”

The corner of his lips turn into a slight smirk, and he begins to gently place his hand on the back of your head, playing with your hair.

“I know.”

That’s when he kisses you again, only this time using his hand on the back of your head to lean you in closer. This kiss was more needy.. More intimate.

You accidentally whine into the kiss, pressing your thighs together as you can already feel your panties start to get wet. He moves his hand from the back of your head to your waist, caressing and feeling your curves. He slowly makes his way to your thighs, where he takes the opportunity to pull you on top of him, and have you sitting on his lap while he lays on his back. You could feel his hard on.

“D-daryl.. I need you.” you say in a whine, you felt his cock twitch under you, he has his hands rested on your hips and has the most perfect view of you. He could stay like this forever.

“Yeah?” He said it in such a sweet and gentle tone it could drive you insane. One thing Daryl loved to do was tease you, he knew how flustered you could get. “Mhm.” You begin to tuck at his pants, looking into his eyes for approval.

With a slow nod, he consents. “G’on.” He wanted this as badly as you did, and tonight, he was going to make sure you were taken care of.

You were quick to go ahead and start to take off his pants and boxers while also taking off your nightgown, wanting nothing more than to feel his cock stretch out your tight cunt. He watched as you stripped him, missing every inch of you and your body.

Witnessing as his cock sprung out, your clit throbbed and you could feel your nipples harden. Daryl gently runs his hand through your hair, making sure that you are enjoying every inch of this. You prop yourself up, sliding your panties to the side and gripping his shaft while slowly lowering yourself onto it. You could’ve came right then and there. He stretched you out, and was always able to make you feel full and complete.

He lets out a low grunt, not only watching you lower yourself onto him, but also feeling the tight and warm sensation of you around him. You needed a moment to adjust to his size, you both haven’t made love since before the war with the whisperers, you just haven’t had the time.

After a moment, you began to move, slowly rocking your hips and lifting yourself up onto him. “Fuck..” You couldn’t help but let out a moan, you were full, and you were overly sensitive. Daryl squinted his eyes shut for a moment, he too had forgotten the bliss and feeling of him inside of your cunt.

With time, you sped up, bouncing on his cock. You threw back your head, rolling your eyes and having your mouth agape, It was almost embarrassing how slutty you looked. His hands roughly gripped your hips, hard enough to leave bruises, while also thrusting up into you. You were close but you felt yourself starting to grow tired.

You buried your head into Daryl’s neck, whining. He took the chance to flip you over onto your back, and take control. He pounded into you, the sound of skin slapping and the headboard rutting into the wall filling the room. You heard Daryl growl and you let out a loud and filthy moan, feeling embarrassed you were quick to slap your hand over your mouth, until Daryl grabs your wrist, and puts it above your head.

“Wanna hear ya.” He whispered, his voice gravelly. He loved the sounds you’d make, especially knowing that you were making those noises because of him. He continued to fuck you into your mattress, having one hand pinning down yours, and the other on your hip. With your other free hand, you found it roaming up into his hair. His hand gripping your hip quickly moved under your thigh, lifting your leg above his shoulder and adjusting his position. He thrusted into you, hitting your sweet spot and going at a relentless pace. You whimpered and proceeded to tug on his locks, pulling it.

And that’s when he let out a whine.

You could feel your core tightening, knowing that you were close. “D-daryl.. Please don't stop.” Waves of pleasure were rushing through you, and his scent filling your nostrils.

“Ain’t gunna.” He then leaned into your neck, leaving kisses and love bites up and then down to your breasts. You could hear his accent begin to grow thicker, That's how you knew he was approaching his release as well.

You were head empty, feeling your walls tightening around his cock and clit brushing against him. You were both laced with sweat while also letting out gasps and whimpers. He knew your body so well, and knew all the right things just to tip you over the edge. Daryl was also incredibly gentle with you, this wasn’t just fucking this was love-making.

“Daryl.. Im gonna–” He interrupted you with a sloppy kiss, when he pulled away there was a string of saliva still connecting the both of you. He used his tongue to lick up from your chest to your neck, the feeling of his wet mouth against your skin, it sent shivers down your spine, and that’s when you couldn’t anymore. You gasped as you reached your peak, the knot in your tummy finally unraveling. He rode out your high, pounding into you a couple more times before he pulled out and came onto your belly, letting out a low groan and making a mess out of you.

He collapsed right beside you, the two of you were both a panting mess.

With both of you still slowly recovering, he moves to look towards you and uses his thumb and index finger to raise your chin. “Ya feelin’ better sunshine?” His little nickname for you forever gave you butterflies.

“Mhm! I think im due for another shower though...” You attempt to move, feeling Daryl’s warm serum drip down from your tummy to your legs.

“I’ll join ya.” He says, as he helps you up and directs you both to your bathroom.

Divider credits: anitalenia 🦋

[probablyanalienindisguise]