#i might add some tags later

[s0lace-1n-s0l1tude]

Yeah *** is one of my favorite characters,that's why I need to see them falling appart and crying their hearts out and becoming an emotional mess,begging for mercy and crawling on the floor like a pathetic worm while losing everyone and everything they love at least once in the story

[solitary-star]

“Ugh, the detector’s going off again.”

So I may or may not have spent way too much time on this! I was going for the vibe of a movie poster, because the idea of CS having one is just really cool to me.

And, of course, this is for Cryptid Sightings by the amazing @naffeclipse!! We all know the routine by now. Naff, you’ve given me brain worms beyond belief with this fic, and now the penalty is the spam I’ll inflict at every mention of it!!

I have plenty more drawing ideas for this fic stored inside my brain, but it depends on my workload how fast I can finish them. We’ll just have to see <3

[tswwwit]

Med student dipper finding bill on the verge of dying and panics, I mean sure he's an ass but he doesn't deserve to die

Sure, here's a thing!

The body lying before him is a mess. And that's putting it politely.

Dipper's clenching his jaw tight, and the expression he's wearing can't be reassuring. He schools it back to a neutral state, trying to take in -

There's a lot to take in.

All his training, the tests. The patient practice and medical diagrams. Nothing prepared him for a body like this. All this blood, not in vials or on the cool white sheets of a hospital bed, but bare and leaking on the ground. Nothing between him and the reality that life is fragile, and can end so, so soon.

Training fails. So does tact.

Dipper takes a shaky breath, and says, "You're dying." "Pfft, hardly." The demon waves an idle hand - the one not holding his chest, failing to keep that weird, viscous blood inside. How he manages to smirk despite everything is a mystery. "I've had way worse!"

Bullshit, he's - A demon, sure, but anatomical facts are facts. With a hole that big, Bill Cipher shouldn't be moving, much less able to talk.

"This? Is basically nothing! Not even a patch on the times I've had a limb come off, or been impaled." Bill Cipher lies on the grass, waggling his hand in a so-so gesture. Despite the half-circle of chest missing, bitten right out of the torso. "Or even the time someone blew up this body's entire skull!" A low whistle, a shake of said very intact head - then a grin. "Though that one worked out pretty well, if I do say so myself."

Bill buffs the nails of his free hand against his ruined shirt, examining them with a bit of pride. How is he still moving.

Dipper stares at the concave gap in his torso. The slow leaking of the thick blood hasn't spread far, but it's just. Part of Bill is missing, Dipper finds it tough to look at. His stomach churns.

If it hadn't been Bill, it would have been him.

A dragon is. Well. A dragon. Who the hell knows why Dipper got snatched up and flown back to the den in the first place, but once he was there he wasn't getting out anytime soon. Or in one piece.

Dipper's talents aren't meant for combat, only trickery, and his chosen profession. Five minutes and three bites later, he'd have been a fairly forgettable snack. A random demon wandering in was the best stroke of luck Dipper's ever had, or could ever have, in a million years.

Hell, there's a lot of people who would take this entire situation as a win. One fire-breathing lizard gone, one fire-wielding demon about to follow. Two monsters, taking each other out with one stupid, pissy, ego-powered destructive battle.

Dipper, though, is perfectly fine. Aside from some burns and acid spit marks on his jeans, he's in great shape. He could just turn, walk away, and leave this monster to die next to the other, slaughtered one.

With this amount of damage, Bill Cipher isn't going anywhere. Eventually, he'll bleed out, pass out, pass away-

And Dipper would never forgive himself for letting it just... happen.

He takes a deep, calming breath. Lets it out, slow.

Okay. Back to basics.

He drops to his knees next to his patient. The scene is safe, the dragon's - Dipper glances over his shoulder - very, very dead. Bill himself is in no position to do much but be mildly annoying, by continuing to talk about more grievous wounds he's seen and experienced.

No airway trouble, since he's talking. It's amazing he's breathing at all. Even with a good portion of the lower chest gone, Bill hasn't passed out. And has enough air to talk, so. Probably fine? Yeah.

Dipper takes Bill's free arm in both hands. As a neat side effect, it stops the dramatic gesturing.

Pulse is.... slow, at first. But it picks up as Dipper takes it at the wrist, then a bit quicker at the neck. If this were a regular human he'd consider it bradycardia. By demonic standards, it's... probably fine? He thinks?

He checks Bill's face - grinning, and wiggling his fingers at Dipper - so, no signs of distress. He's not certain how to evaluate disorientation in a demon, either. Skip that for now.

So far, Dipper's working with the idea that this isn't immediately fatal. The next step is inspecting the wound, and see whether or not he can do anything about it.

"Okay." Dipper moves to check the damage, and finds it covered with ash, and shreds of cloth, and that acidic dragon drool - with this much in the way, it's hard to evaluate. "Bill, I'm going to have to cut your shirt off."

"Sure! Need a knife?" Bill produces one from seemingly nowhere. Dipper leans away, startled. That's. More enthusiasm than he expected. Bill notes his response, eyebrow rising. "What, you squeamish or something?"

"Uh." Dipper hesitates just a moment, but that's long enough for Bill to do the job himself, splitting his shirt open bare from chest to groin, which is. A lot. With a flourish of the knife, he lies back, tucking his arm behind his head.

And. What is there to say to that. "Thanks?"

Bill just gives him a slow, slow smile, and tucks his arms behind his head. Whatever look he's going for, it's too oozy to be effective.

Despite Bill's best attempts to be an ass about it, Dipper clears the wound area, as best he can. Not fully making eye contact, it's going to be bad. It's going to be a mess. Odds are he's going to have to tell a demon he's dying, even, and it's -

Dipper glances down.

It's.

The first, insane comparison that comes to mind, is 'like a cake'.

Bill's human enough. On the outside. Layers of skin, and muscle, and bone, and a considerable amount of 'blood' from the - Dipper feels it deserves the quote marks, now - 'body'.

But where there should be organs, and interstitial fluid, and a broken, leaking, seeping mess, a tangle of bitten flesh, there's. Not.

Organ-like shapes, certainly. They work unimpeded by any holes, pulsing, and alien. Apparently alive. Not spilling anywhere, either, since they're threaded through a pitch-black, non-leaky substance. This demon's body is like... layers of human fondant, over a weird jelly filling.

Dipper grimaces. Shakes his head, hand hovering. Not certain where to touch. Or if that would even be a good idea.

The human part is leaking everywhere, though. And when Dipper tentatively presses against it to slow the bleeding, one finger on the other bit - a couple drops of bright yellow ichor ooze slowly out, landing with a sizzle on the ground. He flinches back -

And Bill starts giggling. Like that freakin' tickled.

Dipper sits back up, shutting his eyes tight. He raises his hands as if in surrender. Which he's not doing, he just. Needs a second.

Overall, his professional evaluation is that the patient isn't dying. Not having a great time by any means, but outside of immediate danger. Theoretically, something could be done to help the... damage -

But. Bill Cipher's way, way outside of any of Dipper's experience. And that includes the several courses he's taken on nonhuman beings. Even the ones about demons, and otherwordly creatures, and spirits. Hell, the seminar he attended about elementals didn't mention this.

Bill is - or rather, Bill's wearing? Bill exists in? Some type of bizarre, semi-organic, mostly-magical hodgepodge of kinda-human kinda-demonic.... molded material? Specially created container? Oddly organized organic goop?

Whatever it is, Dipper's got no idea how it works. Or what would work on it.

"I don't-" Know what to do, Dipper almost says. Despite himself, his mind is racing. "I don't think I can fix you?"

The upturned inflection betrays him. Bill's grin brightens by several degrees.

"Now there's my curious guy! Part of you does know you can fix me! Don't overthink it, kid." He slaps the wound with a wet sound, making Dipper cringe back in sympathy. "You've got the mojo, so let's get things moving."

"I have life magic, yeah," Dipper adds. He fails to disguise the irritation in his voice. Shit, he has to learn to control that. Even if the patient's being a condescending dick. "I just. Don't think that works on demons."

"And typically, you'd be right!" Bill raises a finger, wagging it at Dipper. He almost looks proud that Dipper knew some random demon fact, like a weirdo. "Lucky for both of us, I'm in an... interesting body situation. Your stuff'll work just fine."

"No matter how much 'stuff' I have, there's nothing to reattach." Dipper gestures vaguely at the still-steaming corpse, smelling of iron and salt. There's a portion of Bill's torso in its stomach, and though the dragon's dead, he's not going digging around in there. He'd lose a limb in the attempt. "You can't regrow-"

"Stop thinking 'human', then. I'm nothing of the sort!" Bill chides, wagging a finger at him. Dipper pushes his arm back down, but it pops up again to snag him by the shirt. "All I need is some tailoring done on the flesh-suit. Super-duper easy for a guy like you!"

Dipper starts to protest. Then shuts his mouth, and ducks his head.

Maybe - just maybe - Bill has a point. Whatever this is, it's miles away from normal, what with how Bill's still alive and talking, to boot.

The sheer absurdity of Bill's body situation did make him hesitate. Wondering what he could do, with something this clearly, purely magical.

What Bill's proposing is still insane, of course. Dipper doesn't know why he entertained it in the first place.

Despite not having graduated yet, Dipper's used to helping save lives. He's done a few rounds, and shadowed several doctors. Bill's injury is the worst he's ever seen. He's the worst, most deadly being Dipper's met. Leaking and immobile as he is, he's still a demon. They're absolutely the worst.

But in terms of patients? Bill doesn't even rank in the top ten.

"Hello!" Bill's glaring. He clears his throat, and snaps his fingers twice. "Tired of waiting, kid. Do I gotta ring a bell for service here or what?"

Maybe in the top nine, or eight, though.

Dipper takes a deep breath, and lets it out. "Look. This is way beyond what I'm qualified to do." He squeezes Bill's hand, held in his own, and feels a deep sense of relief. "I can help stabilize you. Though you're, uh, pretty stable, and I can call an ambulance - " He glances around the woods. "Or. Get us at least closer to where I could call one. I might have healing magic but I can't just. Do it."

The entire idea is insane. Recklessly use medical magic on an unknown being? On a strange, unfamiliar semi-organic whatever the fuck body? Without knowing how, and where, and what type to use, any part of it could go wrong in so, so many ways.

Bill's asking so casually. Like it'd be easy. Maybe he thinks it is.

Sure, his 'body' might be fine. But it really deserves the quotation marks. Assuming that it's a type of magical construct, trying to 'fill in' his missing parts might work. Demons could, in theory, be able to synthesize a... something or other, out of Dipper's efforts.

But even if it is a construct - Dipper doesn't have the blueprints.

Bill's 'body' is very, very real, not some gossamer-thin creation. Both solid, and living enough to bleed. Without a plan to follow, while he poured regeneration into an organic form? One this complicated? He'd totally screw it up. The sheer amount of magic it takes to sustain it alone is absolutely insane.

"Fine. Then back the fuck off, if you're squeamish." Bill interrupts his train of thought, voice sharp. His teeth bare as he sneers, and Dipper makes another note on the 'not human' chart. "Or hey! Find a neat stick or something." He pats at the gap on his side like it's more of an annoyance than a grievous, leaking wound. "Gotta get something to prop me up so I'm not tilting forty degrees just trying to get around."

"Cut that out." Dipper uses his stern, professional tone, to zero effect. "You need to keep that clean." Probably. Does Bill even have an immune system, or-?

His train of thought gets interrupted as Bill pats around, finding a chunk of a blasted-apart log- then compares it to his wound, with a contemplative look. Like he's judging whether it's sturdy enough to replace the flesh and bone missing from his friggin' torso. Like he only needs to plug it up as a structural issue.

"Oh my god," Dipper says, and swats the stupid splintery thing out of this idiot demon's hand. "Do you want an infection?"

Bill opens his mouth. Presumably, he was about to make some quote-unquote 'witty' response, but Dipper's already covered his mouth. Running his over hand over his face.

"If I try to patch you up," Dipper starts, slowly. Already knowing he's doing something dumb, just so someone else won't do something dumber. "Will you please not shove anything into it. After."

"It's a deal, sapling." Bill gives him a smug grin, and an irritating thumbs up. "Go for it! And tell you what." The wink is totally unnecessary. "I'll even back you up on the magic front."

"Sure," Dipper says, very dry. Because transferring magic being-to-being is that easy. Everyone just. Hands it over, on a whim. Bill has lost a lot of blood, though. Maybe it's made him loopy. "Go for it."

That, at least, shuts Bill up. He hums a little tune, lying back and waiting for....

Dipper to do the dumb thing.

With a sigh, He sets his hands on Bill. His skin is bare, so there's a the brief relief that Dipper won't have to channel through it; a total lack of modesty does have minor benefits.

Another breath. Dipper shuts his eyes. focusing on his magic. Drawing it down, through his own source of life, through is arms, to his fingers, pressed into Bill's soft skin like he's testing the ripeness of a peach.

Welp. Here goes nothing.

Literally nothing, mind. Demons are powerful, and weird. Mortal magic doesn't mingle well, or easily, with the kind that demons throw around, and the form Bill's wearing looks hand-crafted. Whatever made it is going to be way beyond Dipper's ability to fix. Possibly beyond his ability to comprehend.

If he's lucky, though, he might be able to slow the bleeding. For some reason that hasn't really stopped, but it'll make transporting him less messy if he can manage to stem it. but the best case scenario is that he doesn't murder Bill outright in the attempt.

The first trickles of magic bleed into Bill's flesh, spreading through that layer of fondant, down into the jelly-donut center. His magic feels bone and blood. He feels the little tangling twine of veins, and the strings of muscle.

Following his training, Dipper pushes magic in. Carefully. Slowly.

A moment later, his eyes shoot open.

He stares at the wound. Then he stares Bill.

All he gets in return a is a big grin, and a nonchalant wave.

Dipper blinks back down a the gap in this demon, and how it slowly, slowly closes up without even being guided.

Fixing up a person would be a multi-step, long, lingering process. Like repairing the circuitry on a delicate electronic, or gently guiding the weave of a tapestry.

With Bill, Dipper's just. Pouring wax into a mold. As long as he keeps putting magic into it, it reforms back into shape. No blueprints needed.

Holy shit, this is easy.

What the fuck.

Whatever form Bill's wearing is truly bizarre. This is - he doesn't know - technically organic, but absolutely a constructed thing. How the hell was this made? Who did it? And what the hell, why is it growing back so fast?

Dipper nearly pulls back out of sheer surprise, intending to stop - before quickly realizing he can't.

He slams his palms back on Bill's torso, shivering as the small plumes of flame fade. Bill doesn't seem to mind; which both is and isn't a surprise. No blisters form, either, which proves Dipper's startled assumption about what the fuck just happened.

Swearing again, Dipper shuts his eyes, shoving harder against Bill's skin. No backing out now. He has to keep focus, and see this through.

Bill wasn't kidding about how easy this would be.

He also wasn't kidding about backing Dipper up with his magic.

Even though this is easy, Dipper wouldn't have enough on his own, not to heal a huge chunk like this. Too much missing material, even in a magical construct. Too complicated, and strange.

But Bill's here. A guy who's very invested in getting up and around again, and - shit, demons can hand over power to humans, it's kinda their thing. God, why didn't Dipper think of that before.

Though he started with a trickle, just to see what would happen, Dipper amped it up as things seemed to be working. A little increase to the stream of magic, admiring the effects.

Somewhere along that line, it turned into a torrent.

It figures. Bill's power must be behind this, and he's a demon, and an asshole. While Dipper wasn't paying attention, Bill opened up some kind demonic valve, without Dipper ever noticing.

There's a whole river of demonic magic coursing through Dipper's veins now. Arguably still controlled by him, but fed by a pushy demonic asshole. The magic doesn't feel bad at all, but it's big. Vast, and seemingly endless.

Demonic power courses through Dipper, hot and thick in his arms, lighter in his chest, swirling around his own heart, both his and not-his -

And all of it has to go somewhere.

Underneath his hands, the flesh.... flows.

Dipper watches the arch of the ribs, gently connecting back together, and the sheets of muscle blossom back. Skin spreads over what was empty air. Something is made from nothing, as full and complete as that power inside him.

Bill pulls Dipper's hand away from his chest, and takes a long, deep breath. His eye shuts.

And Dipper blinks as if coming out of a daze, jerking himself upright. He doesn't know when he started leaning over Bill like that, but now it feels super weird.

As Bill mutters something under his breath, wiping a hand down his face. Dipper backs up, then sits down heavily on the ground.

He didn't know he could - but he did that. Or Bill did that, through him. It's. A lot. To think about, and to have handled.

Either way, the result's slightly dizzying. As is the sheer amount of leftover magic.

For a moment, Dipper stares at his hands. He flexes his fingers, then rubs at them.

There's still a heady, warm sense of having way, way more to work with than usual, which is. Weird. But what's left no longer feels like it's being rudely shoved forward, and that makes it more manageable.

So. Kind of a controllable, reasonable level of absolutely absurd power. Without Bill powering him ,it should fade over time, and Dipper won't let himself miss it.

"Oof," Bill says, sitting up and stretching. "What a huge pain in the side that was!" He rises to his feet, brushing off dirt and debris. "Do you have any idea how many muscles a human shape needs to ambulate right? And there aren't any backups? Shitty engineering, if you ask me."

Dipper only vaguely pays attention to the rambling. Bill's up and about, and the patch of ground where he was lying is bare. Stained, but empty, and it's all -

Bill clears his throat, and reaches down. Dipper blinks at the intrusion of a sudden hand, but takes it and lets Bill haul him upright.

"That worked." Dipper says. He saw it with his own eyes and yet. "I can't believe that worked. How..?"

Bill says nothing, only smiles. Enigmatic, and dickish of him.

Dipper frowns as he runs a hand over the place where there was nothing only five minutes before. The temperature matches all the rest of the skin, and the stomach jumps a little under his touch. It's complete and solid, hot to the touch. Bill looks perfectly healthy, he guesses. But. "Are you doing okay?" Dipper asks, reaching up to take a pulse again at the neck. Much faster this time; maybe a sign that he's improved. "You look alright, but I don't know your vital signs." There's only one pupil, and it looks slightly dilated. Nothing to compare it to, sadly - Dipper frowns. "How are you feeling?" "Good question, sapling!" Bill takes Dipper by the wrist, lowering it to his shoulder. And winks, leaning in with what could only be called a leer. "How do I feel?"

"Uh." Dipper darts a glance down at his hands - resting on Bill's bare chest, the other on his shoulder.

This isn't - He was checking - Okay, fine, the assessment is over. Time to stop touching him.

Dipper takes a step back, clearing his throat. Bill follows, leer annoying wider.

Not that that's. Unnerving or anything. Dipper's just sweating because of the magic he used. That was pretty intense.

"Well, you're fine." He stammers, then grimaces at Bill's raised eyebrow. "I mean, you're okay-fine, not-" He manages to get one hand off the chest, but Bill's not letting go of the other. He lets out a nervous laugh. "So. You're all better, and I should, uh. Get going now."

Bill hums a little in thought. Clearly an affectation. Dipper doesn't have to be a mind-reader to know Bill's already made up his.

Pulling away doesn't work; Bill's grip is surprisingly strong. One might even say, inhumanly. So. Dipper offers a smile, weak as it is. "Yeah, I should really leave now."

"Nah, I don't think so." Bill shrugs, then grins again. "I didn't fight a friggin' dragon just for the prize to run off at the end."

Yep, Dipper figured.

Out of the dragon's den, and into the demon's.

He should have left Bill there to die and rot and be a dick somewhere in a demon realm. He should have known that stupid turn of luck was way too good to be true.

"Now you and I are gonna-" Bill's stomach jumps again, and he grimaces. Tapping a fist against his chest, he sucks in a breath through his teeth. "Ugh, life magic." He ducks his head, breathing slowly. "One sec, kid."

Dipper seizes the opportunity, wrenching his arm away and clutching it to his chest. He backpedals until he stumbles. In front of him, Bill growls - then rests his hands on his knees, and makes a small choking noise.

Oh thank fuck, Bill's not perfectly fine. Healed, sure - But something's gone wrong because he almost looks.... sick?

Dipper turns towards the woods - then pauses. He fixed him, sure, but - "Uh. Are you-?"

"Fine! Fine. 's just a side effect." A hiccup, and a dismissive wave. Bill stops, holding back a dry heave, then groans ."Won't last long, so don't try anything funny." He glares at Dipper, pointing at him like a command. "The second this is over, I'm-"

Before he can finish the sentence, Dipper's halfway across the clearing and rounding the dragon corpse. It blocks Bill's line of sight, and from there, it's a straight running contest. The nausea should by him some time to truly get the hell out of dodge.

Good thing it's still daylight out; he might be able to find his way back to civilization, or, like. Follow a river or something. With the extra power in him, he might be able to throw up a few illusions too. That should help keep the literal goddamn demon off his back.

What a goddamn mess today has been.

Dragons, demons. Magic and monsters and crazy assholes who have who-the-fuck knows what intentions after someone just helped their jerk ass.

This was supposed to be relaxing. A break before Dipper finally went into residency -

And much like other parts of his life, it's turned into a complete and absolute shitshow.

The pine trees whip past as Dipper keeps up a breakneck pace. God, he should slow down lest he sprain an ankle or something -

But behind him he hears Bill cursing, and there's a growing blue glow that's as terrifying as it is ominous. He picks up speed out of sheer terror, and makes a promise to himself.

Next time Dipper gets vacation, he's going absolutely anywhere that isn't Gravity freakin' Falls.

[coyoteclan]

Big TW for pet loss

Hey, clangen tumblr and those who just enjoy the silly cats on this blog. I know it's been a little bit of time since my last update, but unfortunately during the past few months, I have been caring for my closest friend, Comet.

She's been my best friend for 15 whole years, and on February 9th of 2024, I'm sad to say that she has passed. I won't lie when I say that this is one of the hardest posts I've ever made, but I want to continue this blog in her honor. Normally, I have a terrible habit of just letting projects like this slip by me and gather dust; however Comet was meant to play an integral part within the blog to immortalize her, and I refuse to let something meant just for her to go to waste.

I want to thank you all first of all for being such an amazing community. I've genuinely had so much joy come of this blog, and it pains me that I let it go stagnant for as long as I have. There are 568 of you now, which is so extremely wild to me; but I hope that from now on, you can all love Comet as much as I did, even if as a memory.

I hope to return to posting content both here and on my main, @mxssacre , but for now I still need time to grieve and come to terms with the loss of someone that was so incredibly intertwined with everything I've done since I was 9 years old.

Thank you for everything Comet, my heart, my soul, my love.

More of my favorite photos of her beneath the cut.

It's hard to choose favorites out of the thousands of photos I've taken of her over the years, but I hope these do her justice to show what an amazing being she was. I hope you're hunting your toy mice in the stars, Comet.

[idunnowhattowriteheretbh]

Soooooooooo I finished the weapons :D

I don't have much ideas for what to write in here so imma just drop the designs and continue suffering in school skkskskksk

First we gooooot

Bear Axe 2

@beartitled (apologies for the puns I couldn't help myself)

Then we have the comically large hammer

Le Bonker 1000

@insomniphic I'm kinda curious to see how would you lift ot ngl

And then we have the last weapon for Captain! :D

Captain's Staff

@braisedhoney

The staff was the most fun to draw tbh

Also I was this 🤏 close to fully shading the axe and the staff lmao

Anyway time for me to skedadle back into my cave before COL finds me /silly

- CR2868

[natsmagi]

sorry for making yet another textpost but i came across that post saying they dislike transfem natsume because he "canonically hates being perceived as a girl and tries to erase all sorts of memories related to that" and also went on to shame genderbends of him aswell. So, as someone who not only draws genderbends of natsume but is myself someone who is nonbinary and hates being perceived as a woman, i thought id offer my two cents

first of all; i think its important to note that natsume does NOT hate his childhood. in fact, hes quite happy that he had such an unusual upbringing!

what natsume hates is being perceived as weak. thats why he was raised as a girl after all, it was his mother trying to protect him from evil spirits. he doesnt hate the whole "-chan" or "wearing dresses" thing because he has a hatred for womanhood, its because due to his upbringing hes now come to associate those things as being weak. he begs tsumugi to forget about it because that means tsumugi remembers natsume being weak, and natsume thinks tsumugi still referring to him as "natsume-chan" means he still sees natsume as weak. (iirc natsume did however once say that he is a little sad that he doesnt really know how to relate to young boys due to this in poltergeist, but i couldnt find the exact quote. either way that just adds to the complexity of natsumes relationship with his childhood, because while he is happy to be "abnormal" in that sense, it has left him lacking in some areas)

i have to ask though, should this conflict of his not be something we hope he overcomes? should we not want him to develop a healthy relationship with various gender expressions? should we not want natsume to overcome his belief that feminine things = weakness? i want natsume to reach a point where he can wear feminine clothing and not feel like some damsel in distress because of it. i want natsumes character to grow. i want him to develop a positive relationship with his gender because natsume DOES enjoy some more typically feminine things, like baking! he used to bake with his mom when he was little! and i want him to feel like he can indulge in that side of him without feeling insecure.....

i LOVE transmasc natsume, my primary hc for him is transmasc nonbinary after all, but with all these things considered, shouldnt people be allowed to headcanon him however they want? if they hear his story and negative relationship with femininity and how that resonates with them and they themselves are transfem, should they not be allowed to hc him as such too?

which brings me to my next point; my own personal relationship with gender and femininity. i was raised as a girl and i fucking DESPISED womanhood. i hated everything about it. i hated how i felt forced into a box i didnt want to be stuck in, and i hated how it felt like my whole life had already been planned out for me due to societal expectations, aswell as me needing to present a certain way. i was peak "tomboy" growing up, constantly wearing super baggy clothes and wouldnt even brush my hair alot of the time. but despite that i remained miserable. i frankly hated how i looked and would constantly dye my hair vibrant colors in an attempt to make me like myself a little more. it wasnt until i realized "wow, im actually not a girl at all" that i finally let go of believing i needed to look a certain way (and thus, defying it) and started to dress for myself. i started to dress in clothes that made me happy and feel pretty! alot of which leans feminine, but clothes doesnt have a gender, and how you dress doesnt define your gender either, but it can still be a bit scary yknow? especially since i dont want people to think of me as a girl, and drawing a bunch of femstars has really made me learn to love myself more in a funny way. i can put these characters in clothes i think are beautiful, i can explore the more feminine parts of me that i adore but dont want to express in public due to how i want others to perceive me, but it has also warmed me up to femininity even more. because femstars to me feels detached from the expectations of society because its not a real thing!! there are no canon femstars designs!!! i can do literally whatever the hell i want with it and its been so liberating to me!!

all this to say; i think it really sucks seeing the way this fandom treats transfem hcs and explicit genderbends, because like ive said before; they can truly be something so personal. you dont know why that person is drawing what theyre drawing, so its a little unwise to make assumptions based on ........ Well, whatever it may be. i know very well that women dressing the way society expects them to SUCKS, esp if you have personal ties to it, but you have to realize the issue isnt femininity, but misogyny.

[mzminola]

I don't understand why people say "Go read about Helena instead of Jason!" I really don't. If I'm in the mood for stories of a Gotham vigilante with resurrection themes and issues with Bruce as a failed parental figure I'm going to read about Jason and Cass.

Jason & Helena are…two Gotham vigilantes who are willing to kill. That’s uh…that’s about it. Helena gives us more mafia focused stories, and has not been dead for realsies or dealt with as much magical bullshit as these two.

Now, you know who Helena does parallel? Bruce motherfucking Wayne.

Came from wealthy Gotham families? Yep. At age eight, witnessed their parents’ murder? Specifically with guns? Yep. Voluntarily pursued martial arts training in their youths, outside Gotham, and then stepped up to be independent vigilantes as adults once they came home, financing it with their inherited wealth? Yep.

Have been members of the fucking Justice League? Yep. May take orders from team leaders (and be cranky about it) but have never actually been anyone’s sidekick? Yep.

Helena has more in common with Bruce than she does with Dick, let alone Jason. 

“Why focus on Jason when you could focus on Helena?” That’s like asking why I’m focusing on Jason instead of Bruce. "Willing to kill" and "refuses to kill (when in right mind)" are important traits to the characters personally, but they are not the be all end all of these characters, their stories, and themes.

[ask-the-bone-boys]

ATBB's Future

Hiiii y'all, its uh. been a minute huh

Now that it's been a bit over a year since I put this blog on hiatus, a loootta stuff has happened and changed and i've been doing a loootttta thinking!

Looking back on it, like really really looking, my biggest reason for the hiatus was that at some point the blog just kinda became more of a chore than something I wanted to work on for fun. Ask blogs are a lot of work, even when you're just using talking portraits rather than drawing out every individual answer, and with how much ask culture on tumblr has died out over the years there just wasn't really enough payoff to make it feel worthwhile to keep burning myself out.

I think it's a really good thing I stopped it when I did, because having to deal with all that in my senior year of high school would have been a nightmare. I've actually just finished up my first semester of college now, and there's no way in hell I would've been able to keep up at any rate! With all of this in mind, I've gained a newer perspective about how to approach things going forward.

I'm still really attached to this story. With how much time I've spent thinking about it and developing it in my head, I can't let it go, even if the blog isn't really working out anymore. I keep thinking of different ways I could fix the decisions I made early on, as well as the super cool directions I could take it in in the future, and I just. I GOTTA.

So, I've decided to reboot it entirely as a fic series!

This means that, unfortunately, there won't be nearly as much artwork to accompany it, but it's far more likely for the story to actually progress! Writing is way less draining for me and once I get going I can do it much quicker than art anyway, even though I do still sorta wish I had the spoons to just turn it into a full-blown webcomic instead haha

This DOES mean that updates won't be nearly as linear as they were here, seeing as right now I've mostly been working on backstory fics that took place before the blog's main story, but that can at least give you guys more context for how the characters interact with each other! I'll also state that while I do write faster than I draw, I still do it a hell of a lot less, so updates will still probably be pretty infrequent. But at least they'll happen at all, right?

As for the state of this blog itself, obviously I'm going to leave it up! I still love looking back on the old interactions you guys had with my characters and your reactions to certain plot points (your reactions to Fluff tagging along with the rest of the group were my favorite by far) and I think it would actually kill me to erase them. I'll be posting the fic updates here too, just like I did for Self Hatred!

And even if it's not going to be an ask blog anymore, because of how much I still miss that kind of interaction with you guys, I think I want to do a sort of "last hurrah" event, to finally send off the asking format with some good vibes.

You see, there's a character I made up around this time of year two years ago. He's a pretty cool guy, but he doesn't actually show up until a specific turning point later in the story. I've been excited for you guys to talk to him since the day I made him, but a little bummed lately that you may not ever get the chance. I still need to get a lot of stuff prepared, so I'm not quite ready to announce or start anything just yet, but there's a reason I waited until my winter break to start thinking about this seriously.

I think you guys would really like to meet him.

But anyway, that's about all I wanted to say for now! This is a very long post already so it's time I start wrapping it up. As always, thank you all so much for sticking with me, even though I really haven't been consistent through the years. I hope this change doesn't come as too much of a disappointment, and that you'll keep sticking around for the reboot!

[rovermcfly]

New York City, 1977. Detective Frank Barnes (Paul Newman) is fighting more than just the heatwave: A robbery spree becomes increasingly difficult to investigate as the head of the operation, Sonny Moreno (Robert Redford), uses it as a platform to flirt with none other but the head detective himself. What ensues is a cat and mouse game full of adrenaline, drama and sexual tension that leaves the cop torn between two worlds.

more at @themoderngomorrah

[qrevo]

Emotional Support Polar Bear 🐻‍❄️✨

(Whenever you're feeling sad he will cheer you up with bear puns - he just can't BEAR to see you down!!)

[froganni]

Maybe a little overly serious approach to the situation, but y'all have GOT to be more respectful towards the creators you watch and consume content for. fWhip's message about getting a lot of hate is honestly abysmal.

Like, don't get me wrong, I love lore-related series! I think they're a lot of fun and I love watching them.But give non-lore series a chance! They're also a lot of fun!

These creators are all responsible adults who are very capable of creating boundaries for themselves and deciding amongst themselves what rules they want to follow when joining a project.

Obviously, there are many viewers and community members who this isn't directed at. :D

Please don't send hate to anyone, it's not helpful. If you don't like something, don't engage with it. Just leave it at that. Show respect to the community you're apart of, and to the creators that head it.

(It's fine to be annoyed with something and talk about it, but don't force a creator to see that negativity. It's not benefiting anyone.) The more hate a creator gets, the less they engage with and organize fun things for the community. Please remember to be kind.

[presumenothing]

so we all know the drill, yeah? my keyboard slipped etc etc and thus i present: 吉祥纹莲花楼 aka LOTUS CASEBOOK (the novel) CHAPTER ONE: TASTER EDITION further aka "the first chapter, but minus the Case Exposition bit because wow noooope". note also that this is not as serious nor thoroughly-edited as some of my other TLs (nif fandom alumni may remember me from known, unknown aka this absolute unit/research spiral of a post-canon fic; this is Not That and also, hi!!). and now with that out of the way, enjoy! ETA: fixed some missing bits that got eaten while posting to tumblr + only maybe 30% on-topic footnotes over here

PART THE FIRST: A GHOST, MURDER, IN THE GREEN GAUZE WINDOW

Changzhou City, Xiaomian Inn.

The seventeenth of the sixth month, just around midnight.

It had been two days since Cheng Yunhe, the head convoy of Hexing Convoy Company, started escorting these sixteen boxes of precious goods. Though all had been well so far, he felt tight-strung with exhaustion, and despite having fallen asleep he woke up without quite knowing why.

Silence permeated the dark room.

Outside the window… there was singing.

Faint waves of sound, barely discernible, as if someone was singing; and apparently quite in earnest, too, but in an incredibly odd tone… just as if… someone was singing with their tongue cut out. 

He opened his eyes, and looked at the window directly across from his bed.

Amidst the darkness, green flecks flickered dim and sudden across that window, now far then near, and only on this one window across from him.

Outside the window, the faraway song continued, that broken tongue singing a tragic melody that no-one living could possibly understand…

He’d already practised almost forty years of martial arts, and though his hearing and sight might not be the top in the jianghu, it could hardly be weak either, but he… could not make out the sound of anything human.

As the wind whistled through the slightly-ajar window, he stared at that window with its flickering green shadows – and for the very first time in his life, he thought of a word – ghosts?

–

ONE: LUCKY PATTERN LOTUS PARLOUR

The broad daylight of a sunny day.

Bingshan Town was not a remarkable place by any means; it had neither rare treasure nor great legends, and just like the vast majority of places in the jianghu, its denizens were a little boring, its crops a tad skinny, its rivers a tinge dirty, and its post-meal conversational topics a touch lacking… far too lacking, actually, so whenever there was something everyone had to delight in it for the longest time – not to mention how that recent happening was an odd one indeed.

The tale so far: on this day, the eighteenth of the month, when the people of Bingshan Town opened their doors to sweep their stoops, they abruptly found that their only-too-familiar main street had suddenly sprouted a two-storey wooden building. This building was hardly a short one, either, fully capable of housing people inside, and in spacious lodgings no less; it was made fully of wood, and engraved with patterns unusually fine and ornate, that even a blind person could recognise by touch – none other than lotus flowers and auspicious clouds.

After a good half-day’s worth of discussion, some eagle-eyed people recognised at last how this building had “suddenly appeared”: though its structure was that of a building, it turned out that it was not connected to the ground… at any rate, this building had been pulled by someone with a cart, here to the main street of their Bingshan Town, and put it there. Everyone expressed their amazement at this, but nobody could comprehend why anyone would bother dragging over such a large building in the dead of night just to leave it on the street, or what it could possibly be for. Perhaps as a shrine for their town god? Though speaking of which, their local shrine had indeed fallen into disrepair and gone unworshipped for many years now…

Such debate continued for three days straight, up until an express convoy working at some company who happened to be coming home was struck dumbfounded upon seeing it, screeched “The Lucky Parlour!” and there and then turned to run madly away without even returning home, still yelling “Lucky Parlour!” along the way – and thus the building abruptly became a haunted house, that would drive anyone who saw it right mad.

Only seven days later, when that express convoy suddenly brought the entire convoy company back to Bingshan Town, did the masses discover that said building was not in fact some haunted house. 

Not only was it not a haunted house, it was actually an auspicious building, a super-duper auspicious building. 

The “Lucky Pattern Lotus Parlour” was a medical clinic.

Its master was of surname Li, named Lianhua.

What kind of a person was Li Lianhua? As a matter of fact, nobody in the jianghu knew either. Whether his master, his background, the level of his martial arts, his age, or even the matter of his looks: all of it was unknown. Six years had passed since this person appeared in the jianghu, and in total he’d done only two things, but just these two things alone had been enough to turn the “Lucky Pattern Lotus Parlour” into the single most fascinating legend in the jianghu.

The two things Li Lianhua had done: the first was bringing back to life the martial scholar “Lifelong Learner” Shi Wenjue, who’d been buried for many days after dying from major injuries after a decisive duel. The second was bringing back to life “Ironflute Hero” He Lantie, who’d also been buried for many days with all his bones broken after dying from a cliff fall.

Just these two incidents alone had already made Li Lianhua the one figure in the jianghu that people most wanted to acquaint themselves with, but there was also the matter of his strange house that he always brought along with him – this only made Li Lianhua more of a legend amongst legends.

The head convoy of Hexing Convoy Company led every last one of his men on swift horseback to Bingshan Town, and after three days of clean baths and devout incense, finally delivered on great tenterhooks a letter of greeting to that building carved of precious softwood: Cheng Yunhe of Hexing Convoy Company wishes to consult on an important matter.

Said letter was pushed in via a window gap.

All forty-odd men of the company waited alongside Cheng Yunhe, as if it was the King of Hell inside of that building, passing judgement––

Soon after, that building that had been so silent as to seem unoccupied let out the faintest of creaking sounds. All of Hexing Convoy held their breath, and even the rubbernecking passers-by caught theirs, too, widening their eyes to better await whatever creature could possibly emerge from this building.

The door swung swiftly open, and not in the slow swing of everyone’s imagination.

A large cloud of dust burst forth with a bang, blowing all over Cheng Yunhe, and the figure in the door made a sound of dismay, saying with great apology: “I was tidying up odds and ends, and didn’t even realise I had guests, my apologies, apologies indeed.”

All of Hexing Convoy, now covered in dust and sawdust, stared in astonishment at the one who’d opened the door with a broom in one hand; the very same broom where that bright red greeting letter was now stuck on. He looked very young, no older than twenty-seven or twenty-eight, and perhaps even a little younger than that if not for the much-mended grey robes he was wearing; his skin was fair and his looks refined, but neither was he so beautifully handsome as to be unforgettable from a glance. He held the broom in his right hand and a dustpan in his left, and looked out at the dozens-strong line outside his door with a face full of apology.

Cheng Yunhe gave a heavy cough, and saluted in greeting: “I, “Thousand-Mile Crane” Cheng Yunhe, humbly greet Li-xiansheng of the Lucky Parlour; may I perhaps request that you pass a message to him that there is a matter I wish to consult him on?”

“Ah,” said the grey-robed young man. “A message?”

Cheng Yunhe spoke gravely: “I fear we must meet with Li Lianhua, Li-xiansheng himself, for there is crucial business to discuss.”

The young man set down the broom. “I am indeed Li Lianhua.”

Cheng Yunhe’s eyes widened abruptly, mouth falling open, and in that moment every last bystander wanted nothing more than to toss three or five eggs into his mouth. Very swiftly he shut it again, and gave another heavy cough. “Your good reputation precedes you, Li-xiansheng…” 

And then he found himself at a loss on how to continue, for he had already detailed the ins and outs of the matter on the greeting letter, but that same letter was now stuck on Li Lianhua’s broom.

Li Lianhua said: “Apologies, apologies… my residence is covered in clutter at the moment…”

He raised a hand to invite Cheng Yunhe inside.

The Lucky Pattern Lotus Parlour was indeed covered in assorted junk; from nails to hammer, saw to axe, dustcloths to broom, sawdust and dust everywhere, and a few boxes holding who-knew-what. The front room held only one table and chair each, both made of bamboo and not worth even twenty bronze coins. Cheng Yunhe felt heavy doubt in his heart, but what with the sheer reputation of the Lucky Pattern Lotus Parlour, and this grey-robed man to be sitting in it, he dared not to suspect him to be a fake, either; and thus he was left with no choice but to sit respectfully across from Li Lianhua and recount every part of those fearsome events he’d encountered a half-month ago.

[––CASE EXPOSITION CUT FOR SANITY––]

Such was the tale of the “Green Window Ghost Murder” that had thrown the martial world into heated debate over the last half a month. Yu Mulan, heartbroken over the senseless death of his beloved daughter, flew into a rage and commanded the death of all the swordsmen who had been escorting Yu Qiushuang that night, alongside a kill order for the entirety of Hexing Convoy Company. Cheng Yunhe, pushed to his wits’ end, had been about to bring his family and disband the company for a scattered escape when he heard the news of the Lucky Parlour.

Li Lianhua could bring the dead back to life – and so Cheng Yunhe suddenly thought: if Li Lianhua could resurrect Yu Qiushuang, wouldn’t that resolve everything? Resurrection was not something he would have ever believed in, just a half-month ago, but with matters the way they were now he could only work with what he had, dead or otherwise, and since the heavens had seen fit to let him come across Li Lianhua, why not give it a try? After all… if the legends were true, all could not but be well.

But even until he’d finished recounting the “Green Window Ghost Murder” incident, he hadn’t heard any startling insights out of Li Lianhua, only an ah and a nod of his head.

After finishing his tea, Cheng Yunhe had no choice but to leave. He truly could not think of any good reason to remain any longer in that empty building of Li Lianhua’s, full of assorted junk and Li Lianhua’s expression full of gentle incomprehension. 

Cheng Yunhe departed.

From the second storey of the Lucky Pattern Lotus Parlour, someone said, leisurely: “Even five years later, you’re still plenty famous, aren’t you…”

Li Lianhua sat on the chair, drinking tea. “Ah…”

Who even knew what he was ah-ing about.

“Actually I’ve never been able to figure it out.” That figure descended slowly from the second storey. He was thin and pale, all skin and bones, and perhaps if he gained twenty pounds he’d be a elegantly beautiful young man, but as it stood he mostly just resembled a victim of starvation. Yet this particular hungry corpse also happened to be wearing a set of rich white robes of particularly meticulous workmanship, with the tassel and jade ornaments favoured only by those fine young masters untouched by worldly troubles, and a long sword with an unusually elegant shape to its hilt. “How could anyone in this world possibly believe in something like resurrection? It’s been five whole years, and yet nobody has forgotten those two scandals of yours…”

“Because none of them are as smart as you.” Li Lianhua smiled faintly, stood up to stretch, then picked up his broom and resumed sweeping the floor.

“Can you not sweep the floor?” The hungry corpse from the upper storey suddenly glared. “How can you possibly keep sweeping when I, the great Fang-dagongzi, am here right in front of you? Do you realise that if Cheng Yunhe had known I was in here just now, he’d definitely kneel down and beg me too ask that old geezer Yu not to slaughter his entire family? You have a young master of my handsome looks and eminent status in front of you, and yet you’ve been doing nothing but sweep the floor?"

“I can’t.” Li Lianhua said: “I haven’t cleaned and repaired this building in too long. It’s very dirty, and leaks when it rains, too.”

The white-robed corpse kept up the wide-eyed glaring for many moments longer, before suddenly letting out a sigh. “Someone like you who can’t fight and can’t treat diseases, who doesn’t plant crops or commit theft either – how have you even managed to survive all these years in such fame? I really don’t get it.” 

This white-robed hungry corpse was “Melancholic Young Master” Fang Duobing, the eldest son of the of the Fang martial family. He’d known Li Lianhua for an entire six years, long enough that he even knew exactly how this same person had come to fame – Shi Wenjue had suffered major injuries in his duel and used the Turtle’s Breath method to close his qi and recover, the local villagers had taken him for dead and buried him, Li Lianhua had gone to dig him up, and thus Shi Wenjue had naturally come back to life; He Lantie, on the other hand, had staged an entire cliff jump after failing in his pursuit of a wife, played dead and buried himself in the ground, and Li Lianhua who’d just happened to be passing by dug him out yet again. The whole world was wondering how Li Lianhua had managed to bring the dead back to life, while all Fang Duobing wanted to know was how he knew where on earth (or under it) there’d be a live person to dig up.

“I did still have some silver coins, a while ago.” Li Lianhua carefully swept the front room, then put away the dustpan. “As long as you plan well, you can still make do.”

Fang Duobing rolled his eyes. “And how much silver do you have now?”

“Fifty taels.” Li Lianhua smiled faintly. “That’s enough to use for a lifetime, to me.”

Fang Duobing tsked. “To think that there’s losers like you in the martial world, who only plan to spend fifty taels in their whole life, it’s practically a shame upon the jianghu. Had Cheng Yunhe known what kind of person you are, I’d like to see whether he still would’ve come asking for help… heh, asking a ‘miracle doctor’ who doesn’t know a drop of medicine and has to go everywhere with his house on his back because he’s too stingy to stay in an inn, to go treat the dead, I can’t believe he thought of that.” Fang Duobing rolled his eyes again for good measure, and eyed Li Lianhua up and down. “Though I can’t actually tell whether you are going to help him go treat the dead or not.”

Li Lianhua sat on the chair, fingers still meticulously fiddling away with the interlocking joint on that squeaky bamboo table of his, and gave a small smile upon hearing this. “Why wouldn’t I go? After all, I don’t know how to plant crops, or sell vegetables, and I’m not in want of coin. Wouldn’t life be incredibly boring if I didn’t have something to do?”

“When that old geezer Yu finds out that you’re a fake miracle doctor and decides to kill your entire family, Fang-dagongzi is absolutely not going to save you,” Fang Duobing said, leisurely. “Go on then, don’t expect this young master here to see you off.”

And so it was that Li Lianhua spent a whole three days tidying up inside the Lucky Pattern Lotus Parlour, packing who-knows-what into that small parcel of his, and after meticulously writing a lengthy missive temporarily entrusting the parlour to the care of “Lifelong Learner” Shi Wenjue, he set off at last.

He was headed to Yu Fortress, to see the corpse of Yu Qiushuang.

[piningpercussionist]

Is.. this your cat? Or is this cat.. you?

Oh!

*Kim gently takes Kit (cat) Pine into her arms, smiling softly down at her for a moment.*

Not my cat, no... technically me, yes? Dunno where she came from, exactly, but I think I remember her coughing up a hairball or something onto Scott's coat not that long ago. Devious little thing... I like her, obviously.

[maulfucker]

wip of my pirates btw

[wolvesbaned]

once again drawing monster boys. this one's a mutant angel parrot guy and a menace to both god and the devil. and also he's baby

[wink-1-8-2]

Semi-Canon Timeline of the Danger Days Universe

(it’s not completely canon, cuz I made a lot of things up for my new fic and ppl have different opinions to me. Also, danger days canon is like, impossible to make sense of)

1973 - The idea of Better Living Industries is proposed and Mom and Dad, it doesn't go very far, however, Marquez persists, gaining support until the Helium Wars 

1978 - The First Helium War starts, leading to the destruction and death of several millions. This war goes on for several years

1983 - after 5 long years, the First Helium War ends, the plans for Better Living Industries are put aside, and the company is founded to produce ammunition and weapons for the next war; early Industry workers see profit. 

1987 - The next couple of years lead to more bloodshed and death, during the Second Helium War. Bombs are dropped, leaving Europe and Asia in near-complete ruin. Some historians debate against whether there were several wars instead of just two, due to long periods of peace through the years.

1989 - Mom and Dad rise in the US, becoming the main governmental entities, promoting peace.

1990 - The Helium Wars are officially over. Better Living Industries provide relief for victims of war, creating a name for themselves, after profit increase from weapon manufacturing (something which is covered up quickly). The original Battery City is based in San Francisco, one of the few American States left completely standing. However, Battery City remains mostly unpopular, due to standards and the fear of new technology (first versions of droids, headphones, etc, etc.). People don't believe the promises made by the city. 

1998 - The Analogue Wars begin. These wars are less bloody and severe, dubbed the Clean Wars, however, Australia is sunk and the rest of the world is ruined. Several people band together to create crews and gangs (The A.K.A.s), like Los Angeles-based Mike Milligram and The Original Fabulous Killjoys + Dennis and the Books on Tape during the Wars, and fight for a chance of freedom. The Zones are introduced after the Wars. 

2003 - Battery City finally grows into the modern city populous that it is. Pills are introduced and further developed. Mom and Dad are corrupted by the Books on Tape. 

2004 - Mike Milligram (personally affected by Mom and Dad as a child) combats the corruptification of mom and dad + this new version of Battery City in Los Angeles.

2005 - Mike Milligram is finally successful in destroying Mom and Dad, and bringing the downfall of Battery City, however, this is not the end.

2008 - the next couple of years are spent covering up the mess Mike Milligram left behind - he and his allies are 'terminated'; they do not get to grow old. A new science is invented for the pill, citizens grow artificial and 'ideal'. 

2010 - The Director is introduced into the city - she will become a leader of the Industry. She successfully covers the story about the A.K.A.s, landing her in a much higher position. The world goes on, however, the city is still redeveloping after the major chaos of Mike Milligram. The term 'killjoy' lives on in the desert, for all rebels.

2011 - Rumours of DESTROYA and the Phoenix Witch gain popularity for stray rebels in the Zones and abandoned droids.

2012 - The Great Fires of 2012 take place, causing tragedy for the rest of the known world. The causes of the Fires are still disputed over, though B.L.I seems to have something to do with it. The Industry rises as a 'saviour', promising a better future for civilians, provided they take the pills offered - 'Have a better day' - and follow rules and guidelines. Memories are wiped, headphones are introduced to keep the bad thoughts away, pill dosages are increased for some.

2013 - Ranks are introduced in Battery City - proper Exterminators were introduced to the Zones; citizens of the city are unaware of this military strength, and of the Zones as a whole. The artificial 'slums' of Battery City are created (dubbed 'the Lobby'), to give citizens a false belief of control - modern Droids are introduced as well.

2013 - Jet Star (aged 16) loses her family and crew in a firefight between early Draculoids. These Dracs are not as developed as the modern ones, and tend to malfunction.

2013 - the new Party Poison (aged 17) and the Kobra Kid (aged 15) escape into the Zones and begin to make a name for themselves.

2013 - Fun Ghoul's first crew disappears mysteriously at 16. The cause is unknown.

2014 - Modern Draculoids are introduced, these are much more effective and easy to control; they're more deadly. 

2014 - Korse runs into Party Poison and the Kobra Kid; Poison finds a mortal enemy.

2015 - Jet Star, Party Poison, Fun Ghoul, and the Kobra Kid form the next Fabulous Killjoys (the Fabulous Four) (they are unaware of Mike Milligram and his killjoys). 

2015 - Korse is assigned to the Four

2017 - The Four stumble across the Girl

2019 - The Killjoys 'die' in their 20s trying to save the Girl (aged 8) (this doesn't work with some canon, she might be much younger).

2028 - The Girl manages to destroy Better Living with the help of DESTROYA. Rumours of the Four finally seem to die down. Show Pony disappears after the deaths of the DJs. 

2032 - History repeats itself. The Director may be gone, but her late followers find themselves the catalyst in Better Living's next rise. Mom and Dad are plugged back in by an unsuspecting ex-citizen, who remains unknown. The Girl is forced to flee back into the desert. She disappears again. 

2033 - Dante, aged 35, wakes up. Jet Star is sighted near the previous Nevada

2034 - Party Poison and the Kobra Kid are sighted.