#now i don’t care lmao

[expired-lemonade]

i love the stardew wizard. ive only talked to him like twice and he let me drink some mystery juice that let me see into The Tree Realm and now he lets me change my name in his basement whenever i want. the true transgender ally

[luminarai]

Attempting to get the beast used to a dental hygiene routine is… well, it’s going.

(She stayed that way for a solid 8 seconds despite hating being held belly up so I think it’s safe to say that Mim is not beating the ‘tiny speaker playing elevator music instead of a brain’ allegations any time soon.)

[greenglowinspooks]

(DCxDP) Drowning in formaldehyde (Pt. 2)

—

Tw: canon-typical violence (Batman), emetophobia at one point

Will be crossposted to AO3 eventually

(Pt. 1)

(Masterlist/subscription post)

—

Danny sat in the back of one of the transport trucks currently on the way to Arkham, his hands in his lap.

So far, everything was going to plan.

About a quarter of the team had gotten themselves admitted into Arkham in the days leading up to the raid, carefully sneaking in supplies and weapons for both themselves and the rogues they were going to free.

Half of the team was on trucks, ready to storm the building with their fancy new tech. A couple others were keeping an eye out for the Bats, and the last one was holed up in a recently condemned building, ecto-modified sniper rifle in hand, ready to fire.

Danny’s hands were cold.

He hadn’t always run cold, from what he remembered. Even after he died—hell, even after he started developing his ice powers—he had always been warm.

Now, though, his body was freezing.

Maybe it was because of the ecto siphoning he and Derringer had done the day before.

He couldn’t make the ecto guns work without fueling them, after all, and the only ectoplasm he had access to was the stuff inside his body. So, he had Derringer hook him up to a GiW machine and filter the ecto out of his blood.

The process was excruciating.

Not only did he get light-headed from the loss of fluids, the machine also chilled his blood considerably during the filtering process, and when it was pumped back into his body, it was freezing. Derringer had to cover him with heating pads and thick blankets to get him to stop shaking.

Still, that had been a little over eighteen hours ago, so that probably wasn’t it.

Maybe it was just another side affect of his time with the GiW.

Overuse of his ghostly wail, he had realized earlier, was the reason that he had lost his voice permanently. Maybe he had accidentally used his ice too many times the same way, and now his body was irrevocably changed. Maybe warmth was just another tiny privilege he had taken for granted, that had now been lost forever.

Danny stared down at his hands.

Maybe his body had just given up entirely on keeping him warm, on pretending to be human.

“Kid, you alright? We’re almost there.”

Derringer’s voice snapped Danny out of his thoughts.

“Yeah,” Danny signed, “just tired. And cold.”

“We’ve got to get you a jacket, kid,” Derringer said, “it’s not even winter and I already have to worry about you freezing to death.”

“I died a long time ago, it’s fine.”

“No,” one of the other men in the truck drawled, “it means you’ve got to be extra careful. You’ve got a second chance at living, so you better not screw it up.”

“What did he say?”

“Danny thinks that because he’s died before, he doesn’t need to worry about freezing to death.”

The truck went quiet for a few moments. Most of the guys in there didn’t know he had died before. He didn’t exactly like to advertise the fact.

“I have a cousin who had a heart attack, and it only made his heart worse,” one of the guys near the front of the truck offered.

“See, kid?” Derringer said, “I’m right. As soon as this is over, you’re getting a jacket.”

Danny crossed his arms, slumping over in his seat with a huff.

A few moments later, a loud clang echoed through the truck. Danny jolted, almost falling out of his seat.

The door opened, the driver looking at them with boredom written all over his face.

“Alright, up and at em. It’s go time,” he mumbled, smacking the door loudly for emphasis. “The sooner we’re done, the sooner we can leave.”

They all stood, hopping out of the truck and making their way to the fence line.

Danny moved his hand to the bandolier on his chest, fingers brushing against the small ecto-bombs he had attached to it.

There were five of them, their bodies made of tempered glass and black steel, and they glowed a sickly green in the night. They were designed mainly for combat; he had a few larger ones meant to blow a hole in a wall in his backpack, which was securely zipped shut.

His hand then drifted to the holster on his left side, and the ecto-gun nestled securely within it.

Most of his parents’ inventions were far too big and bulky to be practical in any real combat setting, so he had downsized them considerably. The weapon he had was modeled after a standard glock pistol, matte black paint covering the GiW white of the gun’s body.

The gun should be able to fire around fifty shots a minute without overheating, which was more than enough for Danny. Hopefully, he wouldn’t have to fire a single round tonight. However, for whatever reason, the words should and hopefully didn’t inspire much confidence in him.

Danny followed the group as they snuck up to the facility, Derringer by his side.

Originally, neither of them were going to go on the raid, but someone on the patient list had caught Danny’s eye, so he decided he would investigate in person. Derringer was just along for the ride because Mr. Cobblepot wasn’t willing to lose an asset as valuable as Danny.

Danny would make it up to the bodyguard later, he decided.

Entering Arkham was, all things considered, pretty easy. Mr. Cobblepot had connections to a few of the orderlies, and it was all too easy to convince them to “forget” a few steps in setting up the security system for the night.

However, since nothing can ever just be simple, they ran into an unexpected patrol of nightshift guards just a few minutes after all splitting up to find the rogues.

Danny and Derringer were able to take them down pretty quickly, but not before they sounded the alarms. And, according to a few guys on the comms, they weren’t the only ones to run into guards where they shouldn’t be.

“They must have changed their patrols,” Derringer huffed, spinning the pistol in his hands, “c’mon, let’s go see about freeing our good friend Victor Fries.”

Danny nodded, scampering after the man as he sprinted through the halls.

The inmates, who had woken up from the loud alarm’s continuous blaring, shouted at them from their cells. Danny’s pulse was loud in his ears, drowning everything out.

Distantly, he wondered if those guards were going to die. Maybe they were dead already.

He supposed that it didn’t really change much if they were.

Soon, they were at the cell. It was custom-built to hold Mr. Freeze, constantly kept at subzero temperatures to avoid killing him.

Derringer hefted his bag off of his back, pulling out the suit and freeze gun that Mr. Cobblepot had procured. As he did so, Danny took a few of the larger ecto-bombs and placed them on the joints of the door.

They carefully moved away, putting some distance between themselves and the door, and Danny detonated it.

The explosion was loud. It shook the entire building, the shockwave knocking Danny to the floor.

Danny brought his hand up to his safety goggles, yanking a small piece of metal shrapnel out of them and dropping it on the floor. He was dimly aware of more pieces sticking out of his kevlar suit. Derringer was similarly peppered with metal, luckily uninjured as well.

They had come from the body and mechanism of the bomb, he realized. He’d have to fix that later.

Mr. Freeze emerged from the cell a few moments later, a scowl on his face. Derringer quickly shoved the suit and freeze gun into his hands and he retreated back into the cell for a few moments, getting dressed.

“I could have died from that, you know,” he hissed. “Killed by some amateurs with shoddy explosives.”

“The Penguin sent us,” Derringer said, ignoring the man’s clear annoyance, “our getaway car is outside. If you’d come with us…”

Mr. Freeze nodded sternly.

“Hurry up, then.”

Derringer and Danny hurried out, Mr. Freeze right behind them. Then, at a certain hallway, Danny paused.

He had to check.

“Kid,” Derringer barked, “we have to go.”

Danny shook his head.

“You go,” he signed, hands trembling, “I have to check.”

“Oh, what’s the problem now?” Mr. Freeze asked, his frown more pronounced by the minute.

“Danny…” Derringer sighed, “Danny thinks his sister might be in here. He hasn’t seen her in years. It’s the whole reason he was a part of the Arkham raid, actually.”

Mr. Freeze paused for a moment.

“Well, lead the way, then,” he said, clearly regretting his words as soon as he said them. Danny just nodded, scurrying forward, the other two men close behind him.

They came to the right cell quickly. Danny looked in through the glass, and he felt a piece of himself shatter.

That was Jazz, his sister, sitting in a padded wall wearing a straightjacket and a muzzle.

She didn’t bother looking up at them as they arrived, not stirring even when Danny slammed his hands on the door to get her attention.

Shakily, he attached an ecto-bomb to the door, hoping with all his might that she wouldn’t get hurt.

The door blew open, and Danny rushed in.

Jazz’s head swiveled to look up at him, her eyes narrowed.

He slipped the goggles up and his bandanna down, exposing his face as he came to kneel beside her.

Slowly, her expression shifted to shock.

“Jazz,” he creaked, his broken vocal chords cracking painfully as he spoke, “it’s me.”

She looked at him like a deer caught in the headlights.

“Danny?”

He nodded, pulling her into a hug, careful not to let the shrapnel dig into her skin.

“I thought you were…”

“Very heartwarming,” Mr. Freeze snapped, “but now isn’t the time. We’ve got to go, now.”

Jazz nodded, leaping to her feet. Danny stood as well, slipping his mask and bandanna back on, and grabbing onto one of her arms for support.

They left the cell, Danny doing a double-take as he saw the frozen-over pathway that they had just come from. He looked to Mr. Freeze, tilting his head questioningly.

“There were guards,” he said flatly. “Now hurry up, we need to get out of here.”

Derringer grabbed the two of them, dragging them along as he sprinted through the hallways. They had to take a bit of a detour, coming out of the main entrance instead of the side one they had entered.

Unfortunately, there was an active gunfight going down.

Danny was roughly pulled behind a desk, just barely dodging a few rounds.

His hands shook as he pulled a small ecto-bomb from his bandolier, priming it and throwing it at a small grouping of night guards. They cried out as the pure ectoplasm collided with them, covering their bodies in burns.

The smell, while familiar to Danny, was still horrific.

They took a few shots off at the night guards, trying to take them down. Their group was efficient, but with the rate they were going at, it wasn’t going to be enough. Only adding to that, the gun Mr. Cobblepot had prepared for Mr. Freeze had broken after just a few uses, leaving them unable to create an ice wall.

Then, Danny heard the sound of a gun’s safety being turned off behind them, and his vision went white.

He grabbed onto Jazz and Derringer, making them intangible right as the night guard opened fire.

Waves of nausea hit him all at once and he doubled over, his vision swimming. Danny was only dimly aware of Jazz taking the guard down with a high kick right to the head, and Derringer pulling him into a protective hold.

Ignoring everything, he pulled the last of the large bombs from his bag, throwing it into the air, pulling everyone behind the desk.

The entire room went white.

Danny’s ears rung as he scrambled out from behind the reception desk, dragging Jazz with him.

Luckily, none of the hired hands on his team had gotten injured, but the guards…

Danny looked away, trying to ignore the taste of bile in his mouth.

It was fine. He was fine. Everything would be okay.

The next few minutes were a blur. He knew that he had puked only a few seconds after they had left the building, and that Derringer had picked him up afterwards, carrying him to the truck with Mr. Freeze and Jazz in tow.

Danny’s entire body was wracked with tremors, an unbearable phantom pain passing through the still-healing surgical wounds in his head and torso like lightning. He dry-heaved, shivering uncontrollably.

They drove off soon after. Luckily, no one had been left behind. Someone, probably Derringer, helped Danny rinse out his mouth and got him a bottle of water to drink, wrapping him in his jacket.

As soon as the truck doors were opened within one of Mr. Cobblepot’s safehouses, Danny became aware of the sound of wailing.

Hopping out of the truck, most of his mind still far away, he saw a man being rolled out of the room on a stretcher. He was one of the people who had been on the other truck, Danny realized.

Beside him was a teenager, probably only a few years younger than Danny, who was screaming and crying uncontrollably. They wailed at Mr. Cobblepot, who only stood there with an uncomfortable expression on his face.

“Oh shit,” Derringer breathed. Danny pulled on his sleeve, tilting his head at him questioningly.

“The guy on the stretcher, that’s his sibling.”

Danny just stared, a hollow feeling deep in his chest.

Jazz, her arms now freed from the straightjacket, pulled him away from the scene. Danny let her.

—

[becauseplot]

anyway yeah fr i miss ordo theoritas. i miss the theory crafting i miss the hugeass meetings before/after Big Lore Event to brief/debrief everyone involved i miss the chaos and confusion and laughter and teamwork. i miss the cellbit, bad, and phil (key-keepers my beloveds) being the heads of the ordo working together to untangle the mysteries to the island. they were hardly ever on at the same time bc schedules and time zones (WAILS) but in my head they had so many late nights down in the evidence rooms like this

just. yeah. yeahh.

[lucreziaborgiagf]

i don’t talk about bridgerton on here but just to clarify. i will not be having ANY eloise hate on this account. i will bite.

[alarrylarrie]

.

[khamomile-kitty]

Only thing I’m gonna say abt it bc I haven’t read the books or participated tje fandom since I was in elementary school but. Ppl’s reaction to Squirrelflight becoming leader is so funny. The misogyny of the authors has rubbed off on the fans I see, how are you gonna tell a victim of domestic abuse that’s she’s a worse leader and suffered less than her husband. And all the alternate leader suggestions from these ppl are the lame ass guys. this is one of the saddest characters in cat fiction let the girlie win at least once good lord

[flumpermergen]

Spoilers for 2.2 Under the Cut!!!

Ugh Sundayyyy

WHEN I GET YOU SUNDAY RAAAHHHH

I fucking love me a villain who represents the clash of ideals, but I have to say my favorite part about his character is the dichotomy between how he believes to present himself and how he’s truly behaving.

He thinks of himself as the wise older brother, the one who knows best and who will willing make the sacrifice of being the only one “awake” in this sweet dream because he views himself as more mature than his peers. However, in actuality, his ideals are incredibly childish. A perfect world in which no one has to work or suffer with minimal repercussions? It’s an outlook that only a kid who doesn’t know better would have on the world. He’s so blinded by his beliefs that he doesn’t see the dissonance surrounding the way he thinks.

I just want to shake him around like a dog would with its chew toy, but this is just a quick analysis so I can get some of my thoughts down lol.

[mmm-bbaq]

movie night!

[whoblewboobear]

At this point Wednesday and Thursday are the highlights of my week like I’m vibrating with excitement when I know Wednesday at like 7 something I’ll be sitting down to giggle at my favorite show like I- 🤧

I don’t always watch d20 seasons as they’re airing but for fantasy high, it gets so woven into my schedule when a new one drops 👏 like not to get super sentimental (I’m absolutely going to in a read more. Plus the season is ending soon and I’m emo about it but also just excited in general to get all the answers) but this season really means a lot to me. Absolutely none of them will see this (thank god) but the intrepid heroes & BLeeM mean so much to me. They made a show that is so funny and beautiful and kind and so stupid at its core and it just goes to show how lovely they are. The impact they’ve made on the actual play community is so huge. For me a lot of actual play was very intimidating to get into because of huge backlogs or the kinds of stories being told weren’t for me but goddamn, d20 just hits on so many levels. In part due to the storytelling and also just holy shit everyone at the table shows up and cares so much about who they’re playing and their place in the world and the story they’re helping be told. It’s just 🤧💖 I hope one day I’m half the dnd player that Brennan, Emily, Lou, Murph, Siobhan, Zac, and Ally are. They truly inspire me so much.

-

-

-

**TW For SA, trauma, mental health + personal shit etc under the cut**

I stopped watching d20 for a long while. Give or take a year or two? I know it was around the zoom season era. Me and A guy I was really close friends with bonded over dnd and d20 and it was one of the main things we had in common. The night he SA’d me we were watching FH S1 from the beginning. And I think that kinda.. like I didn’t watch d20 because it brought up a lot of thoughts of him and that night and just so much ptsd.

D20 was my favorite form of escapism during hard times and it really sucked to lose that for so long. When d20 Junior year was announced I decided it was time to get back into the show because I missed it and I loved it and I couldn’t let him make me so scared that I never went back to what gave me so much joy. I introduced the show to him in the first place, I could reclaim.

I watched freshman year after I dropped out of art school because my parents and I couldn’t afford another loan and I was really lost. It took my mind off a lot of it thankfully.

Sophomore year aired when I started going to community college. I had a night-time psych class that would end about half an hour before the streams would start so it gave me motivation to get through it because I had something to look forward to after. Now junior year is airing while I’m dealing with a lot of health stuff + depression + job stress (now that I write it all out, both college stresses passed and I did end up getting a decent-ish, albeit very shitty job in graphic design, so I know there’s light at the end of the tunnel so to speak, this’ll pass)

I don’t know if they’ll ever do a senior year/graduation season but if they do, I’ll be there still excited and brimming with joy and anticipation for more d20 Wednesdays to come. 💖

[thiagodasilva]

they can try to villianize him all they want, that’s still Enzo Pookie Fernandez

[fuckyeah-bears]

Well I guess the good news is that the mental illness has been conquered to the point that I can have awful things happen and not actively want to die as my first response. at least there’s fucking that

[m4ndysk4nkovich]

no fucking way did it take this guy ive been talking to go from “you’re the prettiest girl i’ve ever seen” to “you’re a stupid white trash hoe” in like four days

[chrollohearttags]

that’s enough Twitter for the next four years for me.

[camgoloud]

you ever just. become overwhelmed by a sudden out-of-nowhere wave of tenderness and affection and longing for reconnection directed towards someone to whom you no longer speak for Very Good Reasons

[roughroadhaley]

it’s crazy how Roy and Jamie pick up literally all of the slack this season as Ted fails to coach (other than his random hallucination that Jamie still has to solidify for everyone) but neither person resents Ted at all