#i can't let him die

[flamingpudding]

Triple Identity Crisis

Danny had a problem. If it was a big one, he couldn't tell yet but he was partially sure Clockwork was at fault for this. Or at least he wanted to blame his ghostly godparent who most likely just wanted to cause some chaos for entertainment with the pretext of helping Danny. Which was a very likely reason for why Danny had a problem right now.

As it was the former Fenton now Fenton-Wayne boy was pacing his room in the Manor trying to think what is next step should be, because as it was his 'new' family –Did new still apply if he was living with them for a little more than a year now? – knew him under three different Identities now. And to top it all off they were not aware that the three identities were all pretty much connected as one.

For one. His family, knew him as Danny, the space obsessed kid, who became a meta because of his ectobiology science obsessed parents and his teenager recklessness. A kid that was actually a genius if you gave him enough time for school and could make you anything out of a ancients be damed toaster. That was the Danny they mainly knew. The Kid they took in, let in on the family business and then chose, to the happiness of Alfred and dismay of some of his 'new' siblings, normal life over vigilante life.

Then they knew Phantom. A dead ghost hero that was helping the Justice League and Young Justice to help them deal with the aftermath of the huge fallout caused by the GIW, Guys in White or rather Ghost Investigation Ward. And while Danny didn't know he had apparently worked with nearly his entire family and that time he knew it now. Which was awkward because he had pretty much pestered one of his elder brothers about his condition until Red Hood, aka Jason, let Phantom help him. Ancient, things might get awkward if that secret is lifted. He had done a lot of things Batman, Nightwing, Red Hood, Red Robin, Orphan and Robin had scowled him for. Thankfully they only thought of him as a dead teen hero and didn't know what a Halfa was. So they didn't make the connection, and he had yet to meet Signal, aka Duke as Phantom.

Now came the third identity, which totally did not happen by his choice. After all officially he hadn't accepted the throne yet and would only get it once he was dead dead not half dead. To bad ancient texts don't care about formalities. So when trouble hit the fan really hard the Justice League Dark had the bright Idea of getting some other worldly help. Which in other words was summoning the Ghost King. Oh boy, was it fun to learn that way that Danny could get summoned against his will. Clockwork did not give him that warning when he told him about the future of his afterlife. But best of all? Oh he doesn't get summoned as Phantom which would have made things maybe a bit easier, oh no. Life wasn't easy. He got someone's in some as a super weird black-green mass of a formless eltrich body with sharp teeth, claws and glowing green eyes with no pupils or irises. Hell Danny even scared himself when he saw his own reflection in a window and he didn't have a single idea how to change his form.

Let it be known that Danny acted then on purpose like he didn't know a single person in that room he had been summoned in right out of his bed and that he wasn't staring at his adoptive father like he needed help who interpreted his stare as the ghost king sizing him up. And Danny knows this because Dick had a good laugh about that at the dinner table with the rest of his siblings.

Now a smart person would probably come clean to his family and explain to them the three identities they knew him under and how they are connected.

To bad Danny wasn't 'smart' when it came to things like that. No in his panic and newfound awkwardness of the situation of what he had done on separate occasions with his identity as Phantom AND Ghost King, he decided to keep acting like he didn't knew them personally like the truely does. Really how hard could that be? Besides he liked the way his family treated him now. He didn't want to get treated differently because he was half dead, or a Ghost King. He liked that his family was treating him as plain old Danny who had an obsession with space and was their quirkily little brother with powers.

So that gave him even more incentive to keep the act up. Even if it was hard at times, especially if he got summoned out of nowhere. It would be easier if he could get a hang of the duplication power. He even had played with the thought of getting one of his ghost rogues to help but his family was perceptive. Maybe not perceptive enough to realise that all three identities were one and the same person but they would notice if Danny acted just slightly different or if Phantom was more of then usually. But somehow he still managed to keep it up.

But it was the hard way that he learned, Danny was bad at doing the 'talking' and realized that maybe Jazz was right and he was going to slip up one day causing huge misunderstandings like right now.

He stared down at Batman and Nightwing in his Ghost King form. Red Hood had his guns pulled on him, Wonder Woman and Superman looked like they where going to try to pull back Batman any second now while Nightwing, maybe at first was going to try to calm down the bat but Danny was pretty sure the eldest bat kid was now fiercely glaring at him too. He was also pretty sure the only reason he didn't see Red Robin or Robin threaten him too was because their super friends were somehow holding them back. For their own or his safety he doesn't know at the moment.

Because apparently the Bats did not fear fighting otherworldly beings to protect one of their own.

"What did you just say about Danny Fentons death?!" Batman grunted out and Danny just knew his adoptive father was glaring at him. Ancients Danny cursed his brain to mouth filter right now. As he had the collective hero scene before him staring at his Ghost King form. Would this be a good or bad moment to come completely clean or maybe he should find some kind of philosophical bullshit of 'All things death belong to him'....

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Assisting Acquaintance Acquired.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[navree]

Incorrect, the fact that Biden has dropped out and a candidate with history of supporting medicare for all and being more receptive to a ceasefire in the I/P conflict has made me go from "I cannot morally support the Democratic nominee" to "I am voting for the Democratic nominee despite the fact she isn't perfect in every respect." I'm really happy this played out. The Dems for the most part abandoned the old Obama platform and it feels like its possible an actual progressive agenda could come to pass in my lifetime.

Kamala 2024!

If you weren't going to vote Democratic in this election before Biden dropped out you're a dorkass loser who does not care about any of the issues you're yammering about here and also a fundamentally bad person, and I hope you get run over by a bus.

But you got one thing right in all of this gibberish, Kamala 2024.

[hiraya-sa-dilim]

not moving on from how louis so far surpassed the bare minimum of saving daniel's life? how he could've just let daniel walk away and call it a day but he sat him down and armed him not only against the past few days but the rest of daniel's damn life?? how daniel's had it horrible since, but in spite all his losses, he had something??? how he had the hope of being someone and mattering and he held on to it for 50 long years?? and it worked??? it helped him survive over and over and over???? a shit life is better than no life at all and daniel lived because louis chose to help him??!???

[s0fter-sin]

ghost stares at the ceiling, chest heaving in a harsh pant; sweat ice on his clammy flesh and soaked into the sheet he restlessly kicks away.

ears still ringing, his fingertips blindly drift down to trail along his vivisection scar. he half-expects blood to smear in their wake. his own line of solomon, who ordered him split in twain; half of him given to a grieving mother and half left with the grieving to be.

just for both his broken halves to be rejected.

what did it make him that his mother grieved him more than she loved him? that she begged to be relieved of him more adamantly than she begged to receive him? why did his worth spill out with his drawn blood? why was his pain lesser than hers?

his hand flexes, digging into the raised scar like it’ll part beneath his fingertips to plunge into his mangled insides. no one knows the cruelty of reforming the halved; his name, his being, not nearly as important as his body when he was stripped from himself. no one knows the pain of healing and understanding losing pieces of yourself means losing your value along with them.

how many more pieces did he have to lose before he was halved once more? before his very presence incurred grief so strong it was better to be rid of him than cradle his bloodied remains?

did the infant fight himself? did he age always at odds with himself; his halves never truly whole? he hopes he wasn’t, that he was spared the loss of self; the fear that one may be welcomed over the other.

who will he lose when the inevitable comes? when he’s ripped apart again? simon? or ghost? is it better to be cursed with choice just like his mother or live with an aftermath chosen for him? does it matter if in the end, he convinces himself there was nothing of him left to lose?

his head lolls to the side and the wild buck of his chest slows. he watches johnny beside him, his face lax with the rare peace of sleep; his cheek squished against the pillow, his lips pursed as long breaths escape him.

johnny. soap. never torn asunder but two all the same.

he carefully reaches out and ghosts his fingers along the jagged scar on his chin. even in sleep, he presses into his bloodied touch. he’s never fled his half-flesh, never shies away from his gore as it spills unbidden from his cleaved torso. he holds on where his mother let him go; cups his stomach to hold his insides in place and never minds the blood that drips through his fingers.

simon will never let him become his own solomon and cannibalise himself. he will never let him question which half of him has more value; which pieces he can afford to lose before he’s cast aside.

ghost’s soap. simon’s johnny. his.

whole, in any incarnation.

[heartless-curr]

something that i feel like goes suprisingly underacknowledged in the twewy fandom im regards to the final game between neku and joshua is that, in a sense, neku has to choose between himself, and between joshua. he had to choose between their worlds and existences — not just in regards to what happens to shibuya.

the loser *should* have been erased — the only reason neku wasn't was because joshua changed his mind. this wasn't just a battle about who gets the right to do what they want with shibuya, it was a battle for who gets the right to *exist*.

if i'm being honest? in that moment, i highly doubt that neku was thinking of shibuya — how could you, when you have a gun pointed at you by your friend who you had related to more than anyone else, you're thinking about the fact that you've been betrayed and you're in a life or death situation and fuck am i really supposed to kill him???? i can't do that. how am i supposed to do that. neku mourned joshua, neku grew from it, neku blamed himself for it (survivor's guilt × 2. new achievement unlocked!) only to now figure out that he was alive.

that's the beautiful thing about neku's character development, however. the neku of w1 would have killed joshua. hell, even the neku of w2 probably would have killed him — and joshua knows this.

the neku at the beginning of the game would have NEVER chosen joshua over himself, he would have never given up his world — his very existence — for someone else — much less someone who annoyed him as much as joshua did. and joshua actively tried to push him further into this sort of mindset during week 2 — encouraging his self actualization loop, because he didn't think that neku (or himself, really), was capable of change. joshua wasn't in shibuya during week 3 to see how beat changed neku.

joshua wouldn't have been able to guess that neku wouldn't have taken the shot.

that's the beauty of the writing and of the ending. the player and joshua expect neku to take the shot. we saw what he did to shiki week 1. but he can't. neku sakuraba went from "fuck the rest, you keep your values, and i'll keep mine, i don't need other people", to willingly letting someone kill him because he valued them too much to kill them.

yes, in the larger sceme of things it's about the fate of shibuya (which is a whole other topic when you consider how shibuya is essentially a reflection of joshua but i digress), but on a more personal level, it's about what neku values more in that moment. does he value his friendship with joshua more than he values his own life.

neku by all means should have chosen himself over joshua, but he didn't.

i think that's why it touched joshua so much.

[markantonys]

my bet for adar's ultimate fate is that sauron will gradually manipulate the orcs into shifting their loyalty over to him, and turning on adar and killing him in a big ol mob just like adar tried to make them do to sauron. that would be pain and tragedy of the highest order, and i don't think sauron would settle for anything less for the demise of the person he seems to hate most in the world. you bet your ass sauron would want to take away the one thing adar has left (the orcs) and make sure he knows his greatest fear is coming true (sauron using the orcs as cannon fodder in his ambitions) before killing him.

[kentocalls]

jiraiya | breadcrumbs nsfw. it’s a situationship but the good kind, i wanted to thank @actuallysaiyan for writing all those prompts. also the gif 🥵

he groans, crosses out the line that’s lived for only three seconds, the words dancing around his eyes, mocking him. he’s the renown author of the Icha Icha series. he can write, move his audience with his captivating comedy and well timed eruptions of emotions. but this, this piece of work is draining everything from him.

his cup is empty, his snacks gone. tense and frustrated he snaps his pen across the room. he could find something, someone to help take his mind off of it all. except he’s causes enough of a racket, his mission isn’t an easy one and he’s not exactly kept low key about his presence. it’s going to mean more paperwork and an earful from superiors and writing was supposed to help. the editor would be less person to yell at him. alas. the night is not in his favor.

the village is silent, most folks already asleep. he can hear cats fighting if he really tried but even then, his stares at the blank wall ahead. a flash of the prettiest lips fills his mind and he aches.

his mind trails after the confident, youthful, smart shinobi who had his knees gracing the ground with a simple ask. he doesn't know how it started, doesn't care where it goes, wants more. maybe there's enough clues if he looks for them, maybe his favorite has graced him with kindness and left a morsel.

enough is enough, he’s leaving tomorrow. the change of pace necessary, he has to keep moving. because who he’s seeking isn’t here and the mission is at a dead end too. t

he wind offers another pause from his thoughts, tempation, cool against his skin gentle, inviting. he closes his eyes, takes half a second to let his body relax, half a second to imagine it’s not the wind’s gentle caress but wait! he didn’t open the window, he wouldn’t this late and—

there’s your scent and something medicinal permeating the room.

you’ve always been fast. confidnet. slipping into unsavory places with ease.

making the most excellent shinobi and his worst habit.

by the time he’s done looking at the window your seated on his desk, writing pad in arms as your eyes trace over the latest pagse written. you’ve always loved spoilers, itching to know what happens before everyone else.

it makes him feel smug, after all these are fresh words, something exclusive only he can offer. gods, he’s missed your face, notes swollen lips and tired eyes, ignores the scratches near your chin. what you both do is dangerous, tedious, necessary. he won't ask because you can't tell. still the thought, did you rush over immedidately after a succes?

eyes rake your beautiful form spilling over his work desk.

your uniform has seen better days but he’s so so so pleased to see exposed skin. your legs look so smooth, nevermind new scratches and old scares greeting him.

he’s staring, gawking like an inexperienced brat, it would be embarrassing, you’d tease him endlessly for it, however, you’re so engrossed in his writing. swaying your legs softly, they dangle freely off the desk, and yet managing to cage him in. his palms reach up, kisses at a small cut on your knee, large palms soothing, fondling, massaging your thighs. itching to admire.

you’re here.

skin is hot, face is a bit flushed though you’re hiding it behind a stoic expression, eyes stealing more and more words. it’s not that long of a chapter, he sighs and pulls you closer, face nuzzling into your stomach, you can feel his kisses through your uniform. needy.

he’s usually wordy, jokey, loud. leaves no space for the outside world when it’s just you two, but right now he’s being such a good boy. you wonder how long it’ll last, the fact he’s being gentle and slow with his movements is trippy. especially when you know how tough he is, have seen him snap men in half so casually. flaunts his reputation, his height, his fame like he’s breathing but right now? letting you read unreleased, unedited writing?

letting you sit on his precious desk, your scent will drive him mad when you’re gone in the morning. he doesn’t have to be nice, could’ve easily stopped you from slipping into his room. taken you against the wall, you wouldn’t have protested. except he didn’t, he’s being the most gracious host.

that’s the only reason one of your hands plays with his long locks, eyes pulling away from his writing pad when your fingers, inevitably, tangle. “hair’s gotten too long.”

“to match yours.” he muffles, before leaning back and looking up almost innocent. like his hands aren’t squeezing and molding and clawing at your thighs. like his mouth isn’t kissing lower and lower, as if he isn’t inhaling that sweet scent that’s evaded him for months now.

you hum, spreading your legs wider, tilting your hips a little higher, his hands know what to do, moving to the waistband of your bottoms, “why’s this one so serious?”

“if you read the other two you’d see why.” he grins, a lazy hand drawing circles from your bellybutton down to your clothed sex and your hand snaps to his wrist with such power. “i like my uniform, i need it clean.” your glare sends shivers down his spine, you’d be mean for him if he asked right?

“and where are the other two?” he doesn’t want you to move, he doesn’t want to spend time playing writer and editor. he much rather gather more field experience, engaging in physical activities has always been his forte, he’s a hands on learner afterall.

crumbles the second your hand is patting at his cheek, pulling his hair and crashing your lips to his. it’s greedy, messy, hungry. you’ve been pent up too. the missions come one after the other and you’re such a high rank, all those secrets and no where to bury them — who knows the weight of all the pain you cary better than one of the legendary sannin?

it’s why you seek him out, over and over again

he doesn’t ask for more, doesn’t push and always pulls you close.

“i wanna…” he nips at your lips, stop distracting him, moves his hands under your top and up, squeezing, groping, pulling, “need too, ah, read the other two first.”

“you’ve worked hard enough,” finally your legs wrap around his hips, he lifts you up so easily, grips the back of your neck firmly, earning a moan, oh you need him, “let me take care of you.”

laying under him, he’s extra careful peeling your clothing off, aware your previous warning still hangs true. you’d take a kunai to his arm if he dirties another uniform. in another setting, he'd like that very much. but he's barely containing his urges, forces hands to work with extra patience, despite his pressing need making itself known. makes a haste of kissing, licking, biting, bruising what can be hidden. for both your eyes only.

you’re so pretty for him.

he tries to pace himself, tries not to get caught up in spite of all his reasoning to go slow he’s a frantic mess. hands clasping with yours, using one arm to hold both your arms above your head, you comply so easily, mouth open and wanton and how the fuck is he going to do all the things he wants to do if he can’t stop kissing you?

a hand snacks down your chest, pinching, fingernails lightly scratching before reaching your core and the gasp you make; drives him insane, let him be a little mean, a little rough, the sounds he makes deepening your need further. his own hips canting against your thigh and sheets.

part of him still doesn’t believe you’re here. that you're not an illusion. that he doesn’t need to wreck his brain and imagine the sounds slipping freely from your lips, that he can take you in with all his senses. have you falling apart in all the ways he knows you adore.

“pretty pretty thing…” he’s sucking and biting on your neck, sliding another finger in and the sloshing sounds cause your cheeks to burn. you want more, hips bucking up on their own, you want so much more but he’s breaking a rule.

“no ma-marks, jiraiya, don’t—“ silencing you with a heated kis, hand frees your arms, one to squeeze at your neck; it’s just enough pressure, how you like it; brain almost turning almost mush. but he’s pulls back, grins wide with a third finger in you now. you’re so wet, sounds absolutely filthy.

“let’s ruin ourselves for anyone else, yeah?” and fuck, he can’t say shit like that when you’re like this, body clenching around him. call it lust, call it longing, call it satisfaction whatever he has you chasing is where you want to go. the softest kiss on lips and he starts to trail down, praises and naughty things whipsered into your skin.

editing his draft can wait.

that’s not why you snuck in anyways.

[junoskelton]

finally decided to pick up pokemon scarlet after so long as my first pokemon game and honestly having such a good time with it, the npc's are all so good and make the game so much worth it

[mettywiththenotes]

Realizing that the fist bump wasn't just a shounen-classic of symbolic acknowledgement between two enemies but also an alternative to holding hands because they tried that, couldn't do it and Izuku's arms decayed

If you look back at the pages in 423, the vestiges are clearly already coming at AFO with their fists closed, ready to punch, while Tomura comes straight out of the gate with an open-handed attack to kill AFO

At the point of contact, we don't know whether his hand is closed or open, but in the next moment, we see it is closed and pressed against Izuku's, meaning that they met in the middle once AFO disappeared

Which could mean 1) Tomura switched to a fist as he hit AFO so he could just fall back on the fistbump or 2) he switched from an open-handed attack to a loose fist within seconds of killing AFO so he didn't decay Izuku again

Either way, I believe this means that no matter what the action was, Tomura did not want to decay Izuku again. Actually, there is a great chance that he chose a fist because it was one of the only ways in that moment where they could make a physical connection and he wouldn't have to bring Izuku down with them

I need you to understand how amazing it is that Tomura actively CHOSE to bring AFO down with him as soon as he could and, at the same time, within seconds, prevent Izuku from dying while still reaching out in his own way so he could make that physical connection again for the last time

From this (Izuku to Tenko)

To this (Tomura to Izuku)

And this along with his last words? Smiling at Izuku and telling him to do his best? Believing he himself had no future but pretty much leaving the future to Izuku?? "It depends on what you do from now on"??? Literally what the hell Horikoshi

[sulky-cabbage]

AU: Where Sukuna Wins

Part 1

Part 2 here

Imagine an alternate universe in which Sukuna triumphs, dominates over Japan, and endures a lonely existence for many centuries, while allowing some humans to live.

They hold a grudge against him, of course, and want to kill him. They train at Jujutsu High and have some great fighters that occasionally provide Sukuna with some entertainment. 

They are so desperate for salvation, they can only find solace in prophecies about a figure with powerful blue eyes that will defeat the king of curses and rescue Japan.

And do you know what Sukuna does in response to that? One might expect him to go full Pharoah mode and kill newborns, but NO!!

HE DOES THE COMPLETE OPPOSITE !!

Whenever he ravages a village and devours the women and children, he ALWAYS spares the blue-eyed infants.

All the curses know better than to kill an infant with blue eyes. The last time a curse did that, Sukuna made sure to make an example of it.

Killing a member of the Gojo clan is also off limits, as well as anything that could delay the reincarnation of this certain person.

These humans are not the only ones waiting for salvation.

Sukuna is also WAITING...for his wretched existence to end at the hands of this person.

The ONLY one worthy of having the honor to do so.

[ihavesomejays]

in the name of love

amn double post today? insane considering that it's me. anyways i finished 2.2 penacony quest and ARGHGHFGJKHSKGHFSJ SUNDAY WHY WHY WHY DO YOU ALWAYS DO THE WRONG THINGS FOR THE RIGHT REASONS WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS arhgh it makes me grab my knees and scream... sunday... you poor, broken, megalomaniac, soft-hearted madman...

textless/closeups below keep reading

[kazumahashimoto]

you're colder than i remember

[zirconpetals]

Willow is the most popular girl in school, she could have had literally anyone she wanted but she chose the guy that can't stop dying in her arms.

Titan give this girl strength.

[aimasup]

throws up my hands in mock resignation but also a hint of frustration Okay Valentino is a cool villain I guess

He's like. Genuinely unsettling. Wish the show struck a better balance with his character sometimes (like sometimes when he's onscreen I have to skip over because I feel queasy and sometimes he's so unsubtle he feels more like a prop than a guy who's going to be a Huge Deal in s2)

[ygodmyy20]

Opps I've been thinking about Teru during confession arc again. Opps opps opps here i go down the hill come join me~

This meta has no strong throughline I'm just. Thoughts. Right now. I wrote this weeks ago and never posted it.

Note this may not be super on point or a perfect analysis, I’m just rambling

Been thinking about how during confession arc, everyone who stood up for Mob, stood up for him because they cared deeply about him in their own way. Touchirou wanted to pay him back for his kindness. Reigen needed to be open with his student. Ritsu had to accept his brother for who he is.

Teru is Mobs friend. But he doesn't, at this point in the story, have the same long-term friendship/relationship like Ritsu or Reigen have with Mob. He has the same need to repay Mob as Touichirou does but it's...hm, it's different.

Teru nearly gets himself killed for another person whom he cares so deeply about.

Is it because Teru has a crush on him?

...Perhaps. At this point I’d argue it’s not a crush but still an infatuation with Mob. Which can be a crush, but I don’t think he forms a crush until the pedestal is broke. At this point he still sees Mob as better than him.

Mob is also the only true friend Teru (from what we know) has had.

….

If Teru loses Mob, who else does he have? Ritsu maybe, and Shou, and maybe Reigen, but those friendships are still so new.

No, Mob is different. Mob is perfect, amazing, powerful--Mob is his only friend that knows the most "true" parts of Teru.

Teru is willing to die for Mob.

And I both love and hate that. I have a lot of mixed feelings about characters being willing to die for another and that is my own personal situation

Teru cares so much that he is willing to put his life on the line for Mob and that is something I think they will have to unpack. Just as friends or if they get together romantically.

(Honestly everyone is willing to die for Mob...... Reigen, Ritsu, Touichirou---they all see themselves as not worth it. That the best thing they can do in this situation (initially) is give up their life for this person. But they all realize through that they can't do that. They can't.)

This is my personal two cents: Loving someone does not mean throwing your life away for them. Because then you lose yourself. And what are you left with? Loving someone does mean stepping up for them, being there for them, making sacrifices for them. But not losing yourself for them.

But I’m gonna get super real for a hot minute. As someone who has been there. It destroys your sense of self. Who are you when all you are, is the other person? I see Teru doing this. He doesn't have much to stand on who "Teru" is. So he throws himself in to protect Mob in the only way he knows he can.

Teru doesn’t think he is special at this point compared to Mob. Mob is the most important thing. Mob is his only friend. Mob is everything. Teru has everything to lose. He has found this one friend, this one connection in his life, and he will do anything to protect them. He is still trying to find himself. Right now all that he is, is Mob.

He loves Mob so so much in his own way, and through their fight he realizes the best thing he can do is not die for Mob or beat him, but to save the people around him. Teru takes a huge step towards who he as a person is.

Confession arc is Teru realizing he can’t give Mob what he wants. He can’t protect and he can't defeat him. Teru has to figure out who he is, not who he thinks he should be.