#but i woke up from a nap like

[cyberphuck]

Sometimes I just sit around and draw stupid shit.

[unsteddie]

University AU

Bi-Sexual weirdo Eddie Munson approaches Robin in a gay bar. It's her first time and she's so excited. She's looking around all excited with hair she definitely cut herself, wearing a cool blazer that's she's decorated with chains and pins and stuff. And she just looks cool and fun. And listen he knows he's probably not her target demographic, but he sees her blush as he approaches.

The second she hears his voice, realizes he's not a woman, she loudly complains about being hit on by a man in a GAY bar. Prompting her friend who has been leaning against the bar getting them drinks to turn. Eddie's mid apology, because that's fair, when he sees him and just shyits right the fuck up.

Cool girl, sure whatever, this man is an angel. So he immediately switches to hitting on Steve, asks him to dance and Robin says "oh, Steves not-"

But Steve cuts her off with a quick "sure." And shoves the drinks in her hands. He leaves Robin with her mouth hanging open as he follows what is probably the prettiest person he's seen in real life to the dance floor.

(Robins fine, she uses Steve's drink to charm a very pretty girl who she dances with and has a great time that night.)

Steve doesn't even speed run his sexuality crisis, he sees it coming for him and is like 'nah, I'm fine actually. I just like pretty people and curly hair.' and the crisis pouts and moves on.

I'm thinking there's probably drama. Like Steve's all in, because he's a sweet romantic idiot. But Eddie panics and is like "you don't even know what you like in men, you can't just decide I'm it."

Which Steve totally can, but Eddie scares easy, he is the opposite of Tom Petty in this regard.

So they split up with the understanding Steves gonna date around a while and keep Eddies number. And like three months go by and Steve doesn't know if he's allowed to call yet because he hasn't managed to get past the date part to the sleeping with other people part because he doesn't like anyone as much as Eddie, but Eddie said he should try some stuff before commiting to the first man that asked him to dance.

Eddie is beating himself up because it's for sure too soon, like crazy too soon, but maybe he loves Steve? And he literally yelled at him to go sleep with other people?? Why did he do that??

I have a little scene in my head where Gareth see Steve in a club and calls Eddie like "dude, he's here, with a date. Like a really really hot date." And sitcom style shenanigans ensue with Eddie running interference on Steve's date long distance via Gareth.

Like they've been apart probably twice as long as they were kinda together and they're being so dumb about it.

[bluerosefox]

New idea spawned.

Another, as if this brain rot hasn't fully taken over me for like the last year and a half, DPxDC.

Anyways.

Ghost King!Danny and/or VERY powerful Danny and/or Ancient of Space.

And deaged Dan and Danielle(Ellie) (plus Dad!Danny)

And a cult summoning!

So this really alarming and powerful cult is trying to summon a powerful ghost (aka Danny) to come give them power or destory or ensalve the world etc etc. Only thing is, they got the summoning wrong and instead get baby Ellie and toddler Dan.

Also they're in their human forms right now too.

No one is happy.

The cultists are upset and wondering what they did wrong, the JL and/or JLD are upset children, babies, are on the battlefield, and Dan isn't happy cause he was in the middle of coloring a spaceship in his coloring book and the people in the robes are getting louder and louder and going to wake up Ellie from her nap and Daddy just got her to sleep and-

Yep. Someone is yelling at them now and Ellie is awake from it.

And...

She starts crying from being woken up.

Not even a few seconds later, the sounds of this plane of reality being ripped opened is heard and the sudden frosty chill of ice is felt.

Along with an angry dad voice of.

"Who woke my daughter up from her nap?! I just got her to sleep!!"

[redrobin-detective]

Simon Petrikov really is the dad of all time.

Continuing my Adventure Time binge and I got to the Gunter/Orgalorg bits. Ice King took this horrible, cruel alien menace who's been seeking ultimate power for millennia and loved him, cuddled him, disciplined him (sometimes undeservedly) and overall sucked him into his deluded family unit. He did this for so long that when Gunter finally was given a chance for ultimate power -via the wishing crown - he chose instead to become Ice Thing. To become like his dad.

Simon dadded so hard that he turned two eldritch beings with capacity for immense destruction into daddies girls.

[souenkun]

I need the pokemas anniversary to come soon so we can hopefully see volo go batshit crazy again for the second time!!!

[faeriekit]

Health and Hybrids (XXVIII)👽👻💚

[I can't remember the original prompt posters  for the life of me but here's a mashup between a cryptid!Danny, presumed-alien!Danny, dp x dc, and the prompt made the one body horror meat grinder fic.]

🖤Chapter navigation can be found here🖤 Click to browse previous updates.

💚 Ao3 Is here for all parts 💚 (now featuring mediocre mouseover translations, only available on a computer)

Where we last left off... Danny has another hashtag breakdown! Man, we've got a lot of these, huh? It's YJ's fault this time; whoopsie doodles! ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Trigger warnings for this story:  body horror | gore | post-dissection fic | dehumanization (probably) |  my nonexistent attempts at following DC canon. On with the show.

💚👻👽👻💚

“Danny,” Diana says from the door.

Danny looks up from his place in the book. It’s definitely aimed at younger kids, but it’s a pretty wordy picture book; there are a couple paragraphs he can’t quite parse, but he’s making pretty good progress on the words he can’t recognize.

It’s a story about a cat who misses its mother. Danny tries not to relate to it too much.

“Hm?” he asks, flipping the front flap of the dust cover over his current pages to mark his place. The book goes back onto the nightstand, beside his space shuttle; Danny uses the railing beside his bed to support himself stepping up and out of his wheelchair, leaning on the railing until he can figure out…wait, where’d he leave his old people walker?

“This walk is long. You will want your chair.”

Well, then. Couldn’t she have said that before Danny did all that pulling? Danny falls back into his chair, kinda peeved. “Fine.”

Diana smiles. She doesn’t have to wear the mask around him anymore— Danny’s pretty sure that his injuries have been declared as clotted, or sealed, or whatever at this rate. They for sure swabbed his ectoplasm and came to some kind of conclusion, anyway, which means he only looks gross, but isn’t, like…actively leaking fluids.

On the one hand, gross! But, well, you know. Nothing for it but bandaids and time.

And her face looks nice. Danny hadn’t known what she’d looked like, before. She smiles when she sees him. Her light eyes crinkle, and her lips turn up… She’s nice. Danny’s sure that she’s only there to be in charge of him in case he gets scary, but she’s in charge of him and she’s nice. She doesn’t have to be nice; lots of people have been in charge of him and been mean about it. There was that one guy who kept holding him—with the taser—

(Time slips away from him, a little. When he gets back to the world in front of him, Diana is carefully looking at his face, the back of her hand stroking the back of his.)

Danny’s in his chair. He’s not…there. He’s in his chair, on a big space station (????) with a bunch of really colorful fighters on it, and Diana is touching his hand (that’s so much weaker and slower than it used to be) and he’s not hungry and he’s only scared because of memories. He’s safe. He’s not being pinned down by the neck so that they can strap down his wrists and hips to the table—they’re not shocking him—he can move his fingers, he’s not stuck in his core—

His core throbs. Danny bites into his bisected lip, and tries not to cry.

“Are you alright?” Diana asks, voice gentled. The soft touch of her hand doesn’t stop. “We can wait. There is no—“

Danny shakes his head, and takes his hand away so he could wipe at his eyes. It’s fine. Bad memories are everywhere: in the walls, in the floor, in the ceiling, in the hands of people taking care of him. That’s not… There’s nothing Danny can do about that. That just. Takes time.

…He think he might have that time. Now. He thought he would die for good in that five by five box, waiting for something that would finally end him instead of just keeping him in a cycle of injuries he never fully healed from.

But now he’s not. He’s here.

He wants to keep going.

“Alright,” Diana says, slow and careful. “Hold on.”

Danny doesn’t hold on—or, well, you know, he engages his core muscles and all that, but he doesn’t cling to his arm rests or to the frame of his chair because he knows that Diana is really, really strong, but she also really, really doesn’t want to hurt him.

She rolls him out of the medical wing and into the space station proper. Danny feels like he’s been here before, but he doesn’t remember it super well. Maybe it was when he was sick or something? Either way, a lot of different people wave at him as they go by—or just straight up stare, if they’re rude—and Danny generally just watches people rush by, carrying all kinds of equipment, and a potted plant, and a…starfish in a jar…?

Oh, the starfish waves at him???? Danny waves back because?? What??

Danny rolls to a stop at a smooth, cylindrical elevator. It looks like a giant test tube.

…Oh boy. Danny takes a deep breath, and holds it. Reflexively. Sure, this elevator probably isn’t like being dunked into water to see if his body absorbs ambient oxygen from the atmosphere or if his biology is truly not oxygen-based, but the memory is. Bad.

They go upwards. Nothing happens but Diana’s pushed button.

Danny exhales.

They get off at a section of the base Danny’s never been to, and it's essentially just a long, somewhat narrow hallway. The walls are actually painted a creamy off-white here, and there’s…like…decorative panels towards the base of his wheels trailing down the hallway? An orange ceiling, too?

Huh??

The rooms are numbered, but they’re not plain steel like in other areas downstairs; some of them have stickers, or drawings, or marker written straight onto the door itself. They look...cozy...? Danny thinks so, anyway, compared to the rest of the ultra high tech space base.

They roll to a stop in front of a door. It’s got a number on it, same as all the others, but there’s a box cutout taped to the front of it. The—

—The print is of the same style of space shuttle Danny keeps next to his bed, inked onto glorious cardboard medium.

Danny stares.

“Gegrapa,” Diana urges, so gentle. Too bad that, uh, Danny doesn’t know that one. He looks at her. She mimes touching the door— Oh. Got it.

Danny leans forward just enough to touch the door with his fingertips.

The door says something in a robotic voice, but the synthesizer is too mangled for Danny to make out the words. The door slides open horizontally into the wall, instead of the way the other doors open like portals or from below, and it’s kind of cool?

Inside is a bedroom. Danny stares.

…No, it’s actually a bedroom. Not a medical wing, not a cot, not a repurposed conference room or—it’s actually got a bed in it. Like. A real one. There’s a wooden headboard and it’s got a mattress on it that’s thicker than a VCR.

There’s constellation sheets on a bed big enough to curl up on.

There’s a nightstand, a small desk on the far wall—there’s a little lip where the bedroom dips into a tiny sitting room, a small television on a table and a small table and chair. It’s kind of…it’s kind of like a little hotel suite.

Danny’s mouth goes dry.

He doesn’t move, and Diana doesn’t wheel him in. “It’s okay,” Diana says, and—Danny almost flinches when she touches his hair, but it’s only Diana, who’s never hit him, and they’re fine. He’s…safe. It’s safe. He’s safe here. “Do you want to go in?”

Danny doesn’t move. His hands don’t touch the wheels. They’re shaking; he puts his hands in his lap and he tries to breathe. “…What?” he asks hoarsely.

“A rum for my Danny,” Diana murmurs, quietly. Danny’s heart throbs at the possessive. “You are healthier now. You do not need doctors every hour, but only sum hours. You cuðe spenda more time here, all ana.”

Words go by so fast even at Diana's smooth, unhurried pace— and Danny licks dry, split lips. He looks around the room—and the room is small, sure, but they're in space. Space will always be a premium. Even in this small room, though, the furniture is sparse and placed distant from each other…distant enough that Danny can wheel around freely in his chair.

There’s a Moon clock display hung on the wall over the doorway, and Danny can faintly see the outline of what he assumes is the current lunar phase as seen from Earth.

Having the lamp isn’t exactly the same as glow-in-the-dark-stars, and thank goodness for that. If it had been, Danny might have cried.

(Or, he realizes, something burning in his eyes that isn’t ectoplasm, maybe he is crying.)

“...Me?” Danny asks, terrified to know the answer. Is this room for him?? Is he getting a room here? Is he supposed to stay here? On the moon?! Is he supposed to stay with everyone here, in a tiny room, where there’s nowhere to go and nowhere to escape?

…It’s a bedroom. It’s already so much more than the stupid guys in white ever gave him.

“Yes,” Diana says, and lets go of his hair. “Use it, or do not. Sitta here, or sitta in the medical bay, but now you have two choices.”

Okay. So Danny has choices. He swallows his feelings—they taste a lot like snot—and rolls himself inside to inspect the room.

There’s another little fridge inside the sitting area. It’s not right next to the bed like it is beside Danny’s cot, but it is the same style of fridge. When Danny pops the door open, it has the same styles of snacks. Fig Einsteins. Peanut butter squeezies and applesauce squeezies and yogurt squeezies. Protein shakes in bottles. Pedialight. Hummus packs.

Danny might still need someone to open the snack packs for him. That’s kind of a high dexterity food, if he thinks about it.

“If you wish to sitta here, we will visit you all you like. There is a belle at your bed,” Diana says, and walks in with all her purple scrubs and tied-up hair to point to a little button on his nightstand. It’s red. It’s got a little smiley face sticker next to it, and Danny thinks he recognizes the style from one of his nurse’s bestickered name tags. Belle is probably a direct cognate for bell. He’ll be able to get everyone to come up here if he needs help.

…Okay, that’s kind of nice. To have personal space. He hasn’t had that since… Danny’s eyes squint as he thinks; he rubs an eye. Wait, when had he been squatting under a conference table? Was that a real memory??

Diana is very tall, even in the little space, but when she ducks her head, the gesture makes her a little smaller, a little more manageable for Danny’s lower-than-usual-gaze. Now that he can see her expression, she looks soft, and even uncertain, even though she looks stone and strong on the television when she goes out to fight. “Do you like it?” she asks.

Danny fidgets.

He—does. He likes it a lot. The room doesn’t have any windows, but if Danny moved all his things in here, got used to being able to come and go, and people coming in and out…this space could be just another space. It’s quieter than the medical ward. More peaceful.

…The room is utterly devoid of other people.

(Danny thinks of The Box. Danny thinks of being in The Box.)

(Danny doesn’t like remembering The Box.)

“I am scared,” Danny admits to his twitching thumbs, his fingers itching for a fidget toy or one of his physical therapy tools. Diana’s face immediately drops.

“Why are you scared?”

I’ll be alone Danny wants to say, but he doesn’t know the word for alone and he struggled with phrasing. “No…people here.”

“That is triewe. You would have more dīegolnes here,” Diana agrees, and straightens out of her crouch. “Is that good, or bad?”

It isn’t good and it isn’t bad…? Danny isn’t sure how to phrase it. It’s neither. Being alone is just scary.

“You not hurt me,” Danny tries, knowing he’s missing some connecting word in the middle. He ignores how Diana comes back to kneel beside him, because if he looks at her, he won’t say anything. “Do not.”

“No,” Diana says, from beside and below him, gentle, careful. “We do not.”

No. They don’t. Danny swallows. “Bad…hurt me.” He doesn’t know the word for Earth or planet or even downstairs, so he just meekly points downwards.

Diana stills. It’s like watching Vlad’s Maddie cat spot a bird to hunt down. Danny tries not to feel pinned. “On eorþegearde?” she asks, still light, still gentle. Danny can hear a shadow of steel, though, and he counts himself lucky that she’s never treated him like an enemy. Danny quickly nods. His eyes squeeze shut.

“Who?” Diana asks feather-light.

Danny doesn’t want to tell them what he is. Admitting the name of the agency hunting him itself would be given in.

…But maybe if he doesn’t say the name…and they...and they promised they'd help hide him...

He wants to be right. Danny wants to be right that they're nice, and that they want to help him. Danny wants to be right that they want to protect him. As long as he never, nevernotevernever tells them he's a ghost...

Maybe someone will help him. This time.

“Bad,” Danny repeats, because he genuinely has no idea how to translate?? “Wants…hurts me? For…” WHAT WORDS DOES HE KNOW? Danny gives up and just draws a y-shaped autopsy incision on his chest. It goes down from his collarbones to his belly button.

Diana watches. Her eyes are sharp.

“Do you feel safe with the staff dunstæger in medical?” Diana is quick on the ball with the question and Danny nods quickly—he’s never alone there, and no one’s ever hurt him, and people whose job it is to help people are always coming in and out, and Medical helps them too.

“Good,” Danny whispers. “Talk…talks to me.”

“Ealne weg,” Diana affirms firmly. Whatever that means. “We will cepa you safe.”

You safe and we is all Danny needs to hear. He could probably cry by himself, but Danny wants the comfort anyway; Diana lets Danny take her hands into his, and he lets tears fall into someone else’s grip instead of his own.

*

Bruce is halfway to the monitor room before he feels himself be picked up from underneath the armpits.

Usually finding himself at inappropriate heights involves horseplay from Clark. No one else would be so bold as to actually put their hands on him within the professional setting of the Watchtower—and Bruce has worked very, very hard on maintaining a reputation that keeps the handsier of his fellows at bay.

The culprit is not Clark this time. Bruce finds himself looking downward at Diana’s tearstained face, fury and resignation warring in her expression.

Bruce is careful not to sigh. “Wonder Woman. What is the matter?”

“Someone,” Diana grits out, voice carefully modulated to cut out her own pain, “Hurt my charge.”

On the one hand, the situation with their patient is exactly as Bruce had expected. The circumstance is tragic. The circumstance was predictable.

On the other, Diana's new upset means that Bruce now has more information to work with than ever before.

Bruce can work with this.

“Tell me everything.” Bruce’s voice is just as firm—even held midair like a cat. “I will help you in every way I can.”

[screechingkroh]

Macaque is a sucker for kisses. He acts like he isn't, but he is.

Sometimes, he'll set up these elaborate (and stupid) plans just to get a kiss. He'd purposely let MK get more hits in during training just to get a little smooch from you.

You tell him that he can just ask but he never does that. So you've learnt to just give him kisses whenever. And each time you get to see him melt.

Forehead kisses? He keens at the feeling and rubs his face against your neck after.

Cheek kisses? His cheeks are red and he's trying to suppress this stupid grin. He tries playing it off but you can see how he gets this lovey-dovey look whenever you shower him in kisses.

Lip kisses? Macaque has two types but you'll almost always get the sweet kind. The kind that makes you sigh or giggle into the kiss as he rests his hands on your waist. The kind that has him smiling softly and enjoying the fact that you're there.

He doesn't like making it known that he loves your kisses, but he does. He doesn't enjoy letting people have that dirt on him, but he's okay if it's you.

How often you've got him to do stuff just for a kiss is ridiculous. But it's okay. You're a sucker for kisses, too.

[cry-ptidd]

Yk that post that said fangs peeking out was the vampire equivalent of cats blepping

[rotruff]

hii. your uncaring or cold f/o does in fact care quite a lot. especially in moments of weakness.

yes they care whenever you feel tired, burnt out and maybe they won't say anything. maybe it comes off like they don't care, but that would be ignoring how they find themselves taking up whatever work there might've been to do so you can rest a while longer without complaint. any 'oh you don't have to-'s get brushed off with a little 'go lay back down' or something similar. the shortness isn't because they're irritated, no, it's just because it's a little silly to them- yes, obviously they don't have to, but they're going to because they love you. maybe that's a little too sappy for them to voice, maybe they do reveal that, either way they'll find their way back to you whenever everything's set away and done. whether they're laying down with you or just sitting nearby and working on their own thing, they keep themself within arm's reach should you need anything.

yes they care whenever you're feeling sick or riding out any nasty symptoms. they'll go make any trips out for things you want or need without question, maybe making a quick promise that they'll be right back. maybe it's a little silly to think you're going to keel over in the handful of minutes they're at the store for, but they just don't want you to feel like you're suffering alone. they might not be feeling out whatever it is you are, but they still want to keep you company through it. maybe they hover just a little, if only just to monitor your symptoms, but rest assured they really don't mind doing whatever it is that makes you feel better. if you want a specific food or drink they'll be running through the rain if they have to to get it to you. if you wanna shower or take a bath but don't have the energy to set it all up or to really take care of yourself they're meticulous with it, setting out whatever they can remember you liking and what might help you feel better and keeping any touches gentle and delicate. if you just wanna lay down and have them nearby, they're happy to just stick around, so long as you can spare them the glances they're sneaking at you every now and then while you rest, relishing in the comfort and safety of the moment.

proship / adj dni

[scourge-sympathiser]

SCOURGE SUNDAY 012/???

♡

[imperial-agent]

after a friendly dinner date

[the-kipsabian]

[oldbutchdaniel]

i truly do think i could write a 1,000 word essay on the first look between daniel and armand in 1973. but i don’t care and it means nothing to me

[44lh]

Lionel Messi wins the 2022 FIFA World Cup.

Diego Marada, 1986 World Cup // Villainy, Andrea Abi-Karam // Lionel Messi, 2014 World Cup // Peter Drury commentary during Messi’s extra time free kick during the 2014 World Cup final // Don't cry for me Argentina - Lionel Messi is the loneliest man in the Maracanã // Lionel Messi after the 2014 World Cup final // October, Mary Oliver // Lionel Messi: Argentina forward retires from international football // Lionel Messi after the 2016 Copa América final penalty shootout loss against Chile // Lionel Messi passes the World Cup trophy on his way to receive his second place medal // Lionel Messi after Argentina loses their opening World Cup match to Saudi Arabia // Argentina NT reacts to their loss to Saudi Arabia, ending their 36-match unbeaten streak // Manhattan is a Lenape Word, Natalie Diaz // Lisandro Martinez on Lionel Messi // Tom Stoppard, The Invention of Love // Emiliano Martinez after Argentina’s 2021 Copa América win // Against Silence, Frank Biddart // x // x

[miscellaneoussmp]

I think there's something so interesting about how it's very obvious that Fit and Pac being together doesn't override the Tazercraft dynamic. Fitpac is addition to the Tazercraft bond, not in competition with it.

Meanwhile, Tubbo and Sunny feel like their relationships with Fit and Pac might be overriden or forgotten about if they end up together. Which, logically, doesn't make sense as Fit and Pac both seem like they don't want to change their existing dynamic that much. Tubbo and Sunny family no matter what. Though, logic and fear don't often play nice.

[raccoon-of-the-creek]

wip bc i’m going insane