#AND none of their colors get mentioned in the others' results)

[rustyvolumedial3-archive]

[Color Quiz]

Snagged from @worm-of-theseus

Yellow for Volume:

daisies, road signs, bumblebees, lemon merengue, bicycles, polaroids, awnings. your essence is yellow: you are precise yet shy, putting band-aids on your cuts alone.

you demand much of yourself; your self-expression feels tempered by a mold you're intended to fill. you seek an anchor to hold and keep your doubt at bay. you are the dutiful. you are the one who rises after you fall.

you find kinship in like-minded individuals of cream, gold, honey, and chartreuse, who share your loyalty and compassion. you are also drawn to the sturdy red and brown, who will help you grow and learn to not question your own judgment. however, you may struggle to get along with the overly-involved personalities of pink and green who are unconscious of their own feelings.

Blush for Dial:

lollipops, warm cheeks, lip gloss, flowers, flamingo feathers, painted nails, heart glasses. your essence is blush: you are outspoken and protect your heart by never offering an apology.

you seize your desires; there is a particularity to your passions, and not many are privy to your reasonings. you are protective and extend your heart in a way you will never accept in return. you are the trend-setter. you are the defiant.

you find kinship in like-minded individuals of crimson, red, tawny, and coral, who share your aspirational intensity. you are also drawn to the honest souls lilac and cream, who will help you grow and realize you are not always under critique. however, you may struggle to get along with the internal personalities of sky and beige who are too self-effacing.

Sage for Rustpaw:

herb clippings, macha, bullet journals, mini backpacks, needlefelts, pistachio, laptop stickers. your essence is sage: you are introspective and retreating.

everything is organized and planned ahead; you are meticulous, stacking up a card tower you can't let fall. it is difficult for you to untwist your tongue and tell others you need them. you are the observer. you are the writer gone off alone.

you find kinship in like-minded individuals of green, forest, honeysuckle, and seafoam, who share your guarded nature. you are also drawn to the self-expressive sky and apricot, who will help you grow and embolden you to say what you need. however, you may struggle to get along with the overly-emotional personalities of rose and cream who ask you to be too vulnerable.

Tagging: @wild-at-spark, @pathofstars

[martian-astro10]

D9/ Navamsa chart observations - Part 6

Moon in 10th gives you a sassy (in a good way) father in law. Also, your spouse can be the best in their field. After marriage, you can be closer to your partner's family than your own. If you don't have a good relationship with your parents, then your partner's family will fill that void. (I know a gay guy with this placement and his husband was disowned by his family when he came out but my friend's family treat him as their own son. They have a really sweet relationship. I love this placement)

Rahu will either take away everything or give the best results related to the things of the house it's in. It really depends on it's dispositor. For ex- if rahu is in 5th, it can either give you a partner who is intelligent, creative, energetic, has a lot of hobbies, or it can give you a partner who drinks a lot, parties a lot, sleeps around, etc. it can also either give you a lot of kids or none at all.

Mercury in 9th gives you an intelligent spouse, they can also be a multilingual person. If you're a woman then your partner can have a little, teeny tiny tendency to mansplain, it's honestly like, they're so proud of their knowledge that they just wanna show how much they know, it can be a little annoying sometimes but nothing too serious. (I know a guy with this and his wife is so cute, she looks like a child every time she talks about her interests, you can tell how much she enjoys sharing her experiences and knowledge, it's kinda cute actually)

Venus in 7th is that placement that completely changes you after marriage, especially your fashion sense. it's because it aspects your 1st house, so definitely a huge change in personality, you can also get a glow up after marriage. Also, it can give a rich partner, kinda like a crazy rich Asians type situation. (I know a girl with this placement and she was so innocent before marriage, she wouldn't even wear revealing clothes and stuff but then after marriage, her mother in law basically threw out all her old clothes and got her new ones, I met her recently and BRO, she looked so different, so beautiful and she was wearing clothes that actually suit her body type and skin color. Also her mother in law is COOL AS FUCK, every time I look at her, I'm like, yeah, this is who I aspire to be like in the future) last point, you'll have a very loving marriage

Jupiter in 2nd is THAT placement. so many celebrities who are married to rich business men have this. I feel like this is one of the placements that just makes you very materialistic, like money is very important for you all, so you should marry someone who is just as materialistic. (I know people with this placement who don't get lonely or offended even when their spouses are workaholics, both you and your spouse think that money should take priority over any other matter) I'll be honest, your married life can be a little dry, but not if Jupiter is in a good sign

Sun in 9th is OFC another good placement. I haven't really seen this mentioned anywhere but this is like THE foreign spouse placement. all the people I know who have this, married someone who was not from their country. You'll also travel a lot after marriage. It gives you a really charming partner, like they can charm the pants off you. Also, the sexual tension is HIGH, Especially if sun is in Aries. There's also a high chance that you're an introvert but your spouse is not, so they can help you get out of your comfort zone

Saturn in 3rd can be such a calm and mature placement, it's like, you know how many men don't talk about the problems they face in a relationship, and then they start acting shitty and wait for the woman to break up. With this placement you get a responsible partner, someone who is willing to talk and meet halfway but you have got to match their energy yk. if you have a weak Mercury in d1, then this placement is not nice, cuz your communication skills are shit and they are TOO mature, so the moment you play games with them, they'll leave you. So work on yourself, is what I would say.

For ketu also, if the dispositor is well placed then you achieve balance in that area, but if not, then you feel detached. ( I know 2 people with ketu in 7th, one is so against marriage and she has extremely high standards, which tbh, are not even practical but the other one has high achievable standards. The funny thing is that the first one has always dated guys who were not good to her and the other has had zero dating experience cuz she's waiting for the right guy. So the detachment sometimes refers to "wrong attachment".

You all are not gonna like this but Jupiter in 7th is one of the STRONGEST indicators of getting married a lot of times. Jupiter in 1st as well, it's not that strong but chances are high. (Halley berrey, Jennifer Lopez, angelina jolie and Scarlett Johansson have it)

To end it on a good note, if you have mars in 5th, just know I'm jealous of you, cuz if there's one thing that you're not gonna lack in your marriage, it's sex. You guys will be those parents who kiss each other even you've been married for 35 years, you do that and then your kids go "ewww, you guys are so cringy" and run away. (Just make sure that mars is not conjunct or aspected by Saturn or rahu, Saturn gives no sex, rahu gives painful sex)

© martian-astro All rights reserved, 2024

[elixirfromthestars]

Usual

Pairing: Biker!Bucky x Florist!Reader

Summary: Bucky keeps to his usual routine every week. On Mondays, it includes you.

Word Count: ~700

Warning(s): none. fluffy goodness <3 established nickname ⟶ tulip

a/n: This Bucky has been swimming in my head for a while, so this little drabble came out as a result. Hope you enjoyed reading! Feedback is always appreciated 🤍 Also I'm hosting a little writing challenge if you want to check it out. 🤍

the whole collection ♡

The bells above your shop door chimed a short melody as it opened. The steady thud of heavy boots followed suit. You turn to face the entrance with your usual welcoming demeanor. 

It was Monday. He always comes on Monday. 

“ Hey, Bucky. Here for the usual?” You ask like clockwork, already knowing the answer. 

“ ‘Course, Tulip,” he replies, smiling at you with that usual twinkle in his eyes. The one that only shows up when he talks to you. You can’t help the way your heart skips a beat when he uses that nickname he gave you months ago. 

“ Coming right up,” you respond, turning to the small shelves behind the counter. The ones lined up with your homemade jams and honeys. Every Monday he buys three of each to serve at his bar in a mix of different snack dishes. 

His favorite happens to be the one he named after you—Tulip’s Sweet Special.  

Bucky strolls over to the flowers that align the walls adjacent to the front counter. Rows upon rows of an array of colors and different-sized petals. A rainbow of the prettiest blooms nature has to offer. 

Meanwhile, you’re putting the mason jars of sweet spreads in a small wicker basket. Glancing at him briefly to stare at his side profile and the way he looks at the flowers intently. Almost as if waiting for them to speak to him. 

You wonder what flowers he’ll choose today. 

You don’t have to wonder for long as he walks over to the counter with a bouquet of white and pink daises, adorned with a touch of lavender. You look at them with a knowing smile on your face. The rugged biker almost looks comical—in the sweetest way—with the bouquet in hand. 

“ Will that be all?” You ask him, motioning to the flowers and the goods in the basket. Bucky nods, lightly scratching at the stubble on his face,“ That’s all, Tulip. And I’ll get ya that basket of yours later. Forgot it back at the bar,” he mentions the basket he borrowed a week ago to transport last week’s items on his bike. 

Of course, he forgot it. He always does. 

“ No need. I’ll just come by the bar later and get it,” you say to him—this little forgetful exchange an excuse to see each other again. It's about the fifth time you’ve done this little rendezvous in the last two months. 

Bucky grins in a way that would make any woman swoon,“ I’ll be waitin’ on ya then.” You can’t help the warmth that finds its way to your face. 

You ring him up, and as you’re getting his change ready he places the flowers in the empty vase on the counter. The one you leave for whatever flowers he buys for you that week. You look at them and the way he delicately places them inside, with a tender care you were one of a handful of people who’s ever seen him dawn. The action envelopes you with a doting affection.

“ Thank you for the flowers, Bucky,” you say with a soft sincerity. No matter how many times he buys you flowers the action still causes your heart to flutter.

“ No need for the thanks—or the change,” he says, lightly closing your fingers around the change in your hand with his calloused one. The slight touch is electric and it makes you both yearn for more. 

You give him that look. That usual look that says you’re doing this again and he replies with a look that conveys hell yeah I am.

You know better than to argue with that look. 

“ Come spend it at my bar later instead,” he suggests shrugging nonchalantly—but his eyes and grin reflect everything but nonchalance. There’s a deep rooted sentiment there that is desperate to be freed and brought to the surface.

You hum, pretending to think about it,“ Alright, deal.” Bucky responds to your agreement by giving you a pleased nod.

Bucky grabs the basket of goods. The rough exterior of his hands contrasted with the gentle almost tender way he held the basket. He was always delicate and careful with anything that belonged to you.

The basket looked so much smaller when he held it. 

Bucky sends you a farewell wink,“ See ya later, Tulip,” and then he turns to leave with a small wave of his hand.

“ See you later, Bucky,” you reply before leaning on the counter, hands resting in your palms. You watch him walk back out to his motorcycle with a longing stare. 

When he was out of sight, you listened intently to the revving of his engine bike, anticipating the day you two would go past the usual.

Until then you’d cherish this routine affair.

[biteofcherry]

Milky Sweet

Bad Moon Rising Masterlist

Alpha Ari Levinson x omega female reader

warnings: none; pure fluff, domestic bliss and happy news; Ari being slutty as always; shifter!Ari; shifter!Reader

Author's Note: This is a short fluffy fic written as a result of this poll.

The soft click of the door being open and closed, then the tiny creak of the floorboards under the weight of a massive body made you smile. 

Your Alpha was the type of a man who walked with purpose and barely contained threat, making his approach a reflection of the beast that he shifted into. Not in your home, however. 

Well, not since the argument two months ago. 

You were attending online classes, sitting in front of the sleek new laptop (a gift from Ari) and listening to the lecture, when your mate all but burst into the living room in all his bold glory. Shirt unbuttoned, exposing his chest and belly. His jeans were tight enough to draw attention to the outline of his cock. 

Okay, so maybe only your attention dropped that low, but the point was that he strode inside unabashedly cocky and loud, while you were in the middle of the damn lecture. 

Fortunately, you had your camera and microphone turned off at that moment, but if he walked in a half an hour earlier, everyone would get an eyeful. 

There was a lot of your yelling and hissing, and poking Ari in the chest, calling him an uncultured caveman. He apologized, though it didn’t stop you from poking him some more. And calling him a slutty beast. Which resulted in said beast fucking you on the table, while the last minutes of the lecture were still going on. 

Since then, Ari made sure to be very quiet and stealthy when he returned home on days you had classes. 

“It’s okay,” you called out softly. “The lectures are over. I’m just finishing some notes.”

A heartbeat later Ari appeared beside you, bracing one hand on the table and the other on the back of your chair as he leaned down to kiss you. 

There were aspects of being Alpha’s mate that tied to his dominance and control, but then there were small things - like the way he kissed you good morning, goodbye and hello - which shone light on the soft, precious bond between you. 

“How was it today?” Ari glanced at the notebook scribbled with colorful notes and stickers. 

“Honestly, rather dull.” You sighed, returning your gaze to the notes, but not before glancing at Ari’s bare chest. Typical. 

“Hungry?” He straightened. “I’ll toss on some quick stir fry.”

“Sounds good.” You were eager to finish, so you could join Ari in the kitchen. 

As much as you fought for your independence of being limited to an Alpha’s mate, you couldn’t deny that spending time with him was enjoyable. It was always a spark, filling your chest with a variety of warm sensations. 

The feeling of safety and contentment; sometimes a bubbling joy and carefree wilderness; the need so deep and burning it made you itch to claw at skin. 

Sometimes you wondered if it was the mating ceremony that enhanced that connection between you two, for you have never felt anything as intense with your previous partners. Even the ones you thought you’re in love with. 

There, that light fluttering in your belly returned as you walked into the kitchen a few minutes later. The scent of food, the sight of your mate preparing a meal for the two of you. It reminded you of the comfort of your childhood home, where you got to see your parents be true partners. 

Ari did his best to make you feel as his equal, even though it was an undeniable truth that you weren’t. Not by the designation of your wolf nature, nor the laws ruling the shifters packs. But in the way he gave you freedom and shared responsibilities with you, you felt respected. 

“After dinner I’m going to check on Dante’s crops,” Ari mentioned as you slid onto a barstool at the kitchen island. “Wanna come with me? You’ve spent all day inside, some fresh air will do you good.” 

You narrowed your eyes slightly, watching him closely. 

Despite the bloody way your packs were joined into one, Ari proved to be a good Alpha. He held the reins, but was open to listen to his packmates. Especially the inner circle, who combined both people from his old pack and some of yours. 

He was also willing to give new ideas a chance.

Like the one Dante had: to use a portion of your lands to farm crops which would profit the pack. He had this idea before, with some specific type of plant that was rare, but becoming very popular. Dimitri, your previous Alpha, didn’t agree to it. He was adamant on maintaining as much of the wild, free area as possible. 

He had his rights, but if Dante’s project succeeded, then in a few years your pack would be able to buy more lands.

However, faith in Dante’s plans and supporting him in this project, didn’t change the fact that he was your ex and Ari was a very primal, possessive man. 

Ari may deny it, but you noticed all the micro possessive gestures he displayed whenever your ex was nearby. More of them than usual, that is. 

He was also right that you needed some time under the open sky. 

It was bliss when an hour later you walked down the narrow paths between growing plants. The scent of watered and sun-stroked ground wiping away the mental tiredness, soft breeze tickling your skin and the sun peeking from between cloud layers making you squint your eyes. 

And your Alpha’s hand moving between squeezing the back of your neck and your butt, despite Dante not coming anywhere near you. 

You rolled your eyes and continued beside Ari as you listened to Dante’s promising report. The way Ari talked with him spoke of appreciation and pride, and you knew it meant a lot to any pack member. 

Later, as you stood at the edge of the field, with your back pressed to Ari’s chest and his arms wrapped around you as you watched the sprouts of the new chapter for your pack being tended to by Dante and his coworkers; you felt a surge of pride, too. 

Of your Alpha. Your wild, untamed mate, who scared you a bit, but who showed you and the others that he was worthy of putting your trust in him. 

You sighed softly and titled your head to the side as Ari brushed the shell of your ear with his lips then placed a kiss behind it.

Tip of his nose nuzzled into that spot. Paused. Then slowly dragged down, into the crook of your neck where two biting marks were crossing. 

“You got new perfume?” Ari hummed, curiously sniffing at your gland. “You smell a bit different. Sweeter. Nutty? Milky?”

With another sigh, you rested your head against Ari’s shoulder as your gaze drifted from the beautiful greenery to the puffy clouds in the sky, their creamy shade taking a hint of the first lick of sundown. 

“I guess I’m pregnant.” 

You surprised yourself with how calm you sounded. A part of you expected more shaky emotion to come with the admission, but somehow it wasn’t scary at all to say it. 

You felt Ari go very still. A wolf who had all of his instincts alerted. 

“I suspected it,” you continued when he remained quiet. “I planned on getting a pregnancy test tomorrow, or the day after. But having your mate distinguish a difference in your scent is a better proof than peeing on a store-bought stick.” 

Ari spun you in his arms fast, but any dizziness didn’t get a chance to settle as he cupped your face in his palms and made the sparkling blue of his irises your sole focus. 

There was so much emotion shining in his eyes. Disbelief. Hope. Joy. 

He held your gaze for a long moment, until you reached your own hand to touch his cheek. A split of a second, just a faint curve of your shy smile confirming your words, and Ari was pulling you into a fierce kiss. 

He was still kissing you as his arms slid lower and in a swift move he picked you off the ground. With a squeak, you broke the kiss and laughed. The sound of it was muffled by the long, loud howl that ripped out of Ari’s throat.

“By the gods!” You huffed, half amused, half annoyed when he continued his howl, despite your attempts to cover his mouth with your hands. “There goes my hope to tell my parents before the whole pack knows.”

Ari’s eyes crinkled and he purposely let out another deep bellow, before it faded into laughter and he was putting you back on your feet. Though his hold on you didn’t ease an inch.

“They don’t know what’s the reason for my howl.” He grinned, not the least apologetic. 

“You’re in the middle of a field with your newlywed mate. What else is there to howl about?” You gave him a pointed look. 

“You know how packs work,” Ari shrugged. “We could tell your parents over dinner and before we made it back to our house the whole pack would know already, anyway. Besides-” 

Ari leaned in. The spike in his scent was enough to have a heat flush you from the inside, but the way his eyes shadowed with that animalistic hunger had your pussy clenching.

“ -I want to test first if you taste sweeter, too.”

[dead-girl-tells-stories]

Not Blue, Black

Everyone always assumes that Danny's eyes are blue. He’s shown pictures of his family before and his dad’s eyes are blue, and so are his twin brother’s and his daughter’s, and his big sister’s. So his must be too! Well, his mom seemed to have this weird purple thing going on so no one was too sure. And no one seemed to care either way, especially not Danny. Besides, why would anyone care about eye color when they had such an amazing young man working alongside them?

Danny was the perfect intern. He’s always on time, never giving trouble, always giving helpful suggestions, and good at not only his job but everyone else’s too, making it handy to have him around the office. He was also the workplace hottie, with many guys and girls hovering around him, desperately trying to make him theirs despite him announcing himself happily married the first day he got here. (Everyone knew who his husband and wife were since he couldn’t help but show them off every chance he got. Everyone knows they’ve got no chance, but one can dream.)

He also seems to light up just about whatever room he happens to be in. Just his presence alone made even their shittiest days in the office seem like just tiny inconveniences in the eyes of the universe. Unless he himself was pissed, which didn’t happen too often. But when he was, everyone felt it and knew to avoid him like the plague. But, other than that, Danny was an all-around good guy and was for sure going to get the job after he graduated from Gotham U. 

You, on the other hand, weren’t too sure about your position in the company, as you were Danny’s antithesis, everything he was not. You were always late for reasons no one cared to understand. Just about every issue in the office was pinned on you whether you were involved or not. You couldn’t ever think about helpful suggestions and just rode off the backs of others. And compared to everyone else's good looks, you were the workplace monster. 

You had a scar on your face and body you got as a kid. You got it in an accident and it deformed your right side quite a bit. It was challenging to adjust to yes, but over time you learned to live with and accept it. Others not so much. The stares you got almost daily, from everyone in the office to school, even random strangers on the street. All of them made you feel scared and sick. Like you wanted to dig off your skin and rip off your flesh and replace it all with something newer, better, more normal. But you couldn’t and had to live like this for the rest of your life. You had to live with the stares for the rest of your life.

Your only saving grace was this job, the one you were assigned to when you first got the internship. You were awful at it at first, resulting in many scoldings from the manager. But throughout the year you were here at this company, you dedicated your time and effort to be good at at least this one thing. And now you were proud to say that you were damn good at it. The best even! So good in fact that everyone decided that they would drop their workload onto you and let you handle it even if it meant extremely late nights at the office.

And that’s how you got to be here, on the company roof at 1 a.m., debating whether or not going home to actually sleep and eat would be worth the scolding you would get from the manager when you arrive to work ‘late’ again..., among other things.

You know having these kinds of thoughts was bad for your mental health (your therapist grilled it into you every time you even mentioned them to her), but it was freeing in a sick sort of way every time you thought of each scenario that could play out if you just-

“Hey!”

Jumping back to your senses, you turned around and saw none other than Danny Fenton standing right behind you. You two were never all that close in proximity before now so you only knew that he was big. You weren’t expecting the absolute unit that was standing behind you. You knew you were short but having to crane your neck to look at his face only put shit into perspective.

“Another late night?”

You only nod dumbly as he moves from behind to stand next to you, looking down at the bustling city below. A deep sigh came from him as he pulled a candy from his back pocket and popped it into his mouth. He was always eating candy. Did he have low blood sugar or just a sweet tooth?

“Same. It’s like we can never go home, huh?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at Mr. Perfect’s suffering just a bit until you realized what he meant. You scoffed and rolled your eyes. 

“Come on Fenton, just because you’ve done a few late nights doesn’t mean you ‘never get to go home’.”

You settled next to him, also looking down on the city as well. He was on his phone now, the blue light illuminating his features.

“She really never sleeps does she?”  He says laughing to himself.

You were kinda pissed off now. Who was he, Mr. Perfect Intern, Daniel Fenton, to compare his suffering to yours? You practically lived at this job now, once you weren’t busy with school or something else! You even bet that after this he’s gonna go home to his nice apartment and be met by a wrapped-up dinner on the table made by either his husband or wife. (HE HAS A FREAKING HUSBAND AND WIFE FOR FUCKS SAKE!) He was probably talking about his little girl just now, and how she’s up waiting for him. Maybe she was half asleep on the couch with the TV on since she was so determined to see her Dad come home. It’s Friday after all of course she’d get to stay up way past her bedtime. He’s gonna get a hot bath and wash off dirt and grim of work, and-

Danny’s laugh was low and deep, rumbling through the air, sending chills down your spine. He turned to you and smiled his pearly whites glimmer-  Wait were those fangs?

“Dude you know you mumble out loud… right?”

There was silence between you two until a bright red crept up your neck, and ever so slowly engulfed your face. Shame flooded your entire being as you cradled your face in your hands. You sighed, feeling like more air wanted to come out but your very human lungs were empty and in need of oxygen. So sucking in a breath, you looked him in the face (why can't you see his eyes?). He was still smiling, his fangs (he has freaking fangs how had you never noticed before!) poking his bottom lips making little dimples.

“I’m so sorry, I’ve been stuck here for three days doing everyone else's work. I haven’t slept or eaten or taken a shower. I-”

“I know, I know. You’ve been busting your ass for a while now so of course you’d be grumpy.”

You don’t think grumpy is the word you’d use but it was close enough. 

“So how long have you been here Fenton?”

“A week.” He replied cooly, popping yet another sweet in his mouth. (Okay he needed to stop, at this rate, diabetes would be the next one to put a ring on his finger) But you were surprised nonetheless.

You’re sure you would’ve noticed if he was here for the entire week. He must have been playing games with you.

“Am not.”

Okay, you needed to stop thinking out loud.

“Look, just trust and believe that if I didn’t want you to notice me, you wouldn’t have. But I did so…” He shrugged and looked off into the distance once more.

You think that what he said is impossible, everyone notices Danny Fenton. But the office was pretty small compared to bigger companies. And if he really was there for the entire week you should have noticed him at some point of the three days you were here. You didn’t hear him coming up behind you a few moments ago either. So maybe there is some merit to his words.

“What’s got you here for so long anyways Fenton?”

He sighed, his face looking more tired than before. 

“You know the project that my group has, the one we got two months ago?” You nod and he continues, 

“Well, it was fine at first. Everyone was pulling their weight, excited to get it done. But then it started, again, with ‘Hey Danny, I’ve got something important to do this afternoon, can you finish this for me?’. Then, ‘Danny I'm not coming in today, do this for me? Thanks!’. And ‘Hey, Danny’s good at this let him do it!’. ‘Danny I need help! Wait no…, I actually meant that I want you to do this for me.’ 

Danny’ll do this, Danny can do that, don’t worry Danny’s on it! Danny, you’ll finish the project… right?

That along with the other workloads that are trusted upon me by the managers and other employees, ON TOP OF MY OWN ASSINGED WORK!”

By the time he was done, you had already recognized that voice all too well. Danny was struggling, right on the edge of his line, using the shirt on his back the make just a little more. Danny was breaking and just barely holding it together, just like you were. You never realized it before, but you notice now that, Danny’s fucking tired. Just like you.

A wet laugh broke your train of thought. His face was a bit wet, his eyes (?) red from held-back tears.

“People think that I’ve got no flaws-” A pang of guilt shoots through you as you were one of those people, “- but I do. Metric shit ton in fact. One of them is that I can’t help but to help people, even if it’s detrimental to myself. And if my sister finds out about this she’s gonna slap me upside and force me to stay home for a month!”

Another laugh rang through the air, sounding just a bit too crazy for your liking. Even so, you couldn’t help but wonder, you just needed to ask-

“Why are you telling me this?”

His laughter stopped and he turned to look at you. Like really look at you. You realize that Danny’s eyes weren’t blue like you and everyone else were assuming. His eyes were black. So black. Blacker than the night sky and deeper than any ocean. And within those oceans swam thousands of bright lights, each burning 10x brighter than the earth’s own sun! Yet they could never shine through that great abyss. It was beautiful. Danny’s eyes were so beautiful. 

“Because I’m gonna quit.”

“What?” Well, you weren’t expecting that.

“Yeah, I’m going to quit. And as your good friend-” Good friend? Since when!? “-I’m going to advise you to quit as well! I predict that this shabby ass company is gonna collapse in a few months and I DO NOT want to be there for that shit show, doubt you want to be there either.”

You feel conflicted. This is the first time that you and Danny Fenton have actually spoken to each other and after basically trauma dumping on you he tells you to quit! This has to be a prank! Some sick twisted joke!

“It’s not.”

CURSE YOUR BLOODY LIPS!

Danny smiled. He looked noticeably less human now that you could see fangs and eyes, and were his ears always pointy? Dear lord is he a part of the Fae!?

“Close but not quite.” 

At this point, you were pretty sure you weren’t speaking out loud and he was just straight-up reading your mind. He handed you a piece of paper and clasped his hand over yours.

“Just think about it ok? The first one is my number, so just call when you need a friend to talk to. The second is my brother’s, he thinks you’re cute.”

“What?” You look up only to see him gone as if he was never there. Looking back down you expect to see the paper gone too. But it was still there, the flirtatious message next to the second number making the tips of your ears turn red. Once again you remember that, Danny if a fucking giant, one who was now gone without a trace…

“What have I gotten myself into?”

You decided to quit the next day.

Three months later the company ends up in a scandal so bad, that even the bats are investigating it.

You decide to give Danny a call.

All I wanted to do was write a prompt about Danny's eyes... The fuck!?!?!?

[bloodybobbysawyer]

ꜰʟᴇꜱʜʟɪɢʜᴛ: ᴛʜᴏᴍᴀꜱ ʜᴇᴡɪᴛᴛ x ᴀꜰᴀʙ! ᴘᴏᴄ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ꜱᴍᴜᴛ

This was a request from my Discord, shout out to ya! (You know who you are). Not proofread, by the way. And yes, I take free requests.

Breeding kink, DIY fleshlight, soloboy, size kink

It was a hot summer day in Texas, and the piercing stare of the sun coated Thomas’ already sweat ridden arms. The coarse hair dotting his arms became slick with the fluids of work. The air wasn’t any help either, it was stiff and stale. You could see dust particles mingling amongst each other before they fell onto the floorboards of the Hewitt house. The only interruption these bits of dust had was from the feverish slapping, and exhales of pure desire from behind the mask of the large man.

But none of this would have happened if he hadn’t met her.

The girl.

(Y/N) was her name. The girl who's been clouding the mind of Thomas Hewitt ever since she had knocked on the family’s door, to the point of which he could hardly get any work done. He thought that God proved himself to be a proper artist when he sculpted her from the pieces of caramel-colored holy flesh amongst his studio. (Y/N) was a beautiful girl, he’d always thought so. Truth be told, he had always been nervous around her. Which made his current actions all the more shameful to him.

He had a Polaroid picture of her, where her curls were being highlighted by the same sun that was practically encouraging his godless activities. Thomas was raised in a traditional household, therefore he could hardly bring himself to look into the brown eyes staring unknowingly into his own baby blues beyond his loose curls shading them. His large hands gripped tighter onto his work table, the burly knuckles of his turning almost white as he tried to push himself past the shame - and the fear of being caught in such an intimate moment.

Earlier that morning, the 6’5 man had taken his mothers discarded tea bags and hastily stuffed the two of them into their own respective hand towels. The hand towels that were currently being used to fulfill Thomas’ current intimate fantasies. Thomas shoved his plump cock in between the towels, making a sort of flesh light by tying a leather strap around them to ensure that they envelope his wide length.

His hairy arms bent as he leaned further over the metal table as he gazed hungrily at the photo of (Y/N). He needed her, like a predator to a piece of raw meat. Now, Thomas was aware that intercourse would result in childbirth (and the other crude things Sheriff Hoyt had mentioned in passing) but he would be lying if he said that it wasn’t the goal. If he had it his way, she would be in place of his makeshift pleasure device, being pounded relentlessly. It was all Thomas could think of, from entangling his filthy fingers into her curls as her tongue swirled around the mushroomed tip of his cock to the thought of her laying down as his heavy breeding balls slapped against her ass - the same way they were slapping against the edge of the table.

The grunts and groans erupting from his chest were almost animalistic as his pace quickened. This was his first time he had used his creative wit to pleasure himself, sure, but this was not the first time that Thomas had used this simple photograph of (Y/N) to bring him to release.

With each pulse of his cock bringing him closer to his finish, the shame Thomas had felt was beginning to wash away. A guttural moan left his chapped lips as he imagined the tan flesh of her ass gripped in his huge fingers, chasing after his own orgasm as he pounded into her. Thomas was raised to be a gentleman (that of which he was, for the most part) but her pleas for mercy had fallen on deaf ears as he humped deep against her cervix - (Y/N) was strapped down, all to be impregnated by him properly. Luda Mae always spoke about how she wanted grandchildren, of course.

But now wasn’t the time for family. His veiny, chubby cock pulsed causing his voice to ring out in delight. His tongue practically hung from his mouth as he gazed at the innocent photo of (Y/N), his slick sweat falling down his lowbrow and down his reddened face. Thomas frantically peeled his soaked button up off of his hairy chest, freeing himself of the restrictions the shirt was giving his breathing. He panted as his dick twitched at the next thrust he made, the table rocked as he continued to thrust forcefully into the thought of her pretty little wet cunt around him. His dark, sweaty curls bounced as he pounded mercilessly, fucking desperately to release. .

It didn’t take long before his seed was spewing out of him, glazing the Polaroid of his potential sweetheart. The thick globs of salty goo slowly dripped down her face, her sweet smile barely visible under his semen. His size-able girth twitched wildly at the sight in front of him. Thomas grunted through the brown mask, his slick, hairy chest rising and falling as he brushed his hair back with his hand. He picked up his fleshlight and placed it into one of the cluttered drawers. His mask not once moved from his face. Thomas hurried hastily upstairs, and once he reached the laundry room, he looked through the closest hamper for a new shirt, deciding to pay his new sweetheart a visit.

[tieronecrush]

i only have eyes for you

summary: your boyfriend frankie has biannual eye exams for his pilot’s license, and the results of this last one were not what he was hoping for. to his dismay, frankie needs glasses. and you’re not available to help him pick them out.

wc: 2.3k

warnings: none, pure fluff really. ending has mature themes mentioned, but this is really just a sweetie frankie moment 🩵

a/n: this was born out of @northernbluess and I discussing the frankie vibes of the photo(s) above, and then me running off with a delusion of frankie needing glasses. so wholesome, so shy, so sweet 😭

“Seriously? Doesn’t your boss know you have plans with me?” Frankie groans from his place on the couch, flannel stretched across his shoulders and his Standard Oil cap on his head. Dark chocolate curls peek out of the hat, ringlets curving around the edges and his ears, while his plush bottom lip juts out in a pout.

Crossing the living room, you plant yourself on the area rug between his open legs, one hand reaching down to grab his chin and tilt his head to face you, eyes exposed from under the brim of his cap. His umber brown irises reflect hints of a tawny, golden color in the light; one look into his eyes and you’re surrounded in their depth and wrapped up in warmth, like coming into a heated home after a frigid winter day.

Matching his pout with your own, he shakes your hand off with another huff, crossing his arms over his chest. His knees pull together, trapping yours with their effortless strength, years of multiple miles a day in basic training and deployment giving him thighs and calves as thick as tree trunks and virtually as strong as them. A breathy laugh leaves your lips, one hand further hiking your work bag on your shoulder.

“And how d’you think my boss would react to me skipping out on the deadline ‘cause my boyfriend needs to go pick out glasses?” One eyebrow arches in questioning, Frankie shifting on the couch and shrugging as he stands his ground. You know his play; he’s going to pout and say he won’t go unless you’re coming with — you’ve been reminding him constantly over the last week about this appointment, a follow-up to his bi-annual eye exam for his pilot license that he had the other day.

Lately, Frankie had been squinting a lot more, holding books close to his face when he was reading; you even caught him increasing the size of the text on his phone in order to read his messages. He definitely needed the exam, and you knew he was going to need glasses. He grumbled the whole time, avoiding making the appointment until the last possible minute and waving your concern off when he came home with the results.

He was farsighted, which is why he was usually fine while flying. Years of experience meant he knew exactly where the controls were, the blurring of his vision not necessarily deterring his abilities to fly. Clinging to the fact that he’s been fine for the past few months at work, Frankie was refusing the fact that he needed to get glasses. But since he has to submit his results, his hand has been forced to head into the optometrist’s office and pick out a pair.

Which is where you were supposed to come in. Frankie claimed he didn’t care about the look of them, asking you to tag along with him and select some for him. The logic was that “I’m only seeing through them, you’re the one who has to look at ‘em the most. Should be the one to like ‘em.”

“This is a life-changing decision! He should understand that,” his voice drops in volume, eyes flicking away from yours, “I don’t wanna pick out a pair that makes me look silly to you.”

“Oh, baby, I think you’d look cute in any pair of glasses. ‘Cause I think you’re cute.” Folding forward, you steal a quick kiss before standing straight again, lifting one of your legs up and over his knee to free yourself. “Really, Francisco, you would never look silly to me, and you need glasses to go to work. Gotta go get ‘em, baby.”

Another groan rings in your ears, and you roll your eyes at his overdramaticness. Pushing himself off the couch, he stands in front of you, a playful glare on his face, “You’re paying the out-of-pocket price if my insurance won’t let me change them when you hate them.”

“Yeah, yeah, alright. That’s not gonna happen. Now I have to go, and you have to leave for your appointment in an hour. I’m going to check your location, so don’t even think about skipping out,” you warn as you walk toward the front door, hearing him call out to you before you shut the door behind you.

“Tell your boss he’s a dick for makin’ you come in on your day off!”

The end of the day rolls around before you know it, and you’re more than eager to get home to see Frankie and his new glasses. Graciously, your boss told you to take tomorrow off instead, a relief settling in that you can actually enjoy a day with Frankie, who’s out of work until he gets his vision adjustments settled.

Excitement turns in your stomach when you park in the driveway of your shared house, following the path up to the front door of the bungalow and heading inside. Your shoes end up in a pile near the door and your bag ends up dropped next to them, bare feet padding across the tile floor.

Part of you, just a sliver, was feeling a bit anxious about Frankie’s choice. You genuinely meant you would love anything on him, but he’s been avoiding the task and trying to deflect it to you, which made you guess that the whole change had him feeling insecure. To you, there was nothing wrong with the addition to his look, but he must have been feeling much differently to be so worked up about the situation. In his world, surrounded by younger co-pilots and forced to disclose things like this in any applications or license renewals, you imagine it must be like showing up to elementary school or middle school as one of the few kids with braces or the butchered haircut your mom gave you in the bathroom the night before. Totally uncool.

You just wanted to hug the little, shy kid inside of Frankie; wrap him up, and tell him how much you love him and how cool you think he is. A kid like Frankie would’ve been your best friend when you were younger — he’s your best friend now.

“Frankie baby, where ya at?”

“Living room!”

Swerving from your direction toward the kitchen, you cross over into the living room, a wide and enthusiastic grin on your face as you anticipate what kind of glasses he chose. You’d been swarmed with text messages while he was at his appointment:

Are you sure you can’t take lunch now and come help me?

Way too many options here.

An older woman who works here is trying to help but I think she’s coming onto me…Please come over here baby!!

I feel like a dweeb in all of these.

Receiving the last one nearly made you pack up your things and rush over to help him, but with your boss breathing down your neck about a submission by the end of the day for this large project, you couldn’t sneak away. Instead, you sent reassurances, asking for photos but never receiving any from your boyfriend.

From where he sits on the couch, Frankie turns his hatless head away from the movie playing on the TV, sending a soft smile to you, “Hi, cariño. How was your day?”

No glasses.

God, you actually might kill him if he went through all of the theatrics only to come home empty-handed. Or empty-faced, more like it.

“My day was fine, but more importantly, how was your day? And why don’t I see glasses on your face?” you plop down on the couch next to him, body turned toward him while he continues to focus on the TV, humming dismissively.

“I got some. Jus’ don’t like wearing ‘em if I don’t have to,” he mumbles, sinking further into the couch cushions.

“Baby, you’re not going to get used to them if you don’t wear them regularly. Can’t be living in a blurry world.” Inching closer, you rest a hand on his thigh and the other cards through the curls at the nape of his neck, slowly turning his head to look at you, “I wanna see them. Please? Pretty please?”

Embraced again by those cocoa-brown eyes, this time filled with timidness and hooded with anxiety.

“I feel ridiculous in them. Like they make my ears stick out and they don’t fit under my cap and…they just look stupid on me.” His sentences mush together in his dejected tone, eyes falling from yours to stare at where his fingers are anxiously toying with the hem of your satin blouse.

The image of shy, little Frankie at school tugs on your heartstrings again; instead of showing your cards, you hide your anxieties with a soft, bright smile.

“Frankie, you could never look stupid to me. You never look stupid to anyone. Well, unless Pope’s around, but he can shove it.” That brings a subtle grin to his lips, a breathy of a single chuckle exhaling. “You are the most handsome to me, and a little pair of glasses isn’t going to change that. Can you please show them to me? I promise I’ll be honest, but I can guarantee that you think they are exponentially worse than what they are. Knowing how you are, they probably make you look hotter. Which, like, should be physically impossible, I mean look at you—”

“Alright, alright. I’ll show you the glasses. Quit makin’ me blush…” he scolds lightly, a smile playing at the corners of his lips and his dimple poking through on his cheek. You scoot back to allow him to get up off the couch, watching as he disappears down the hall to your bedroom and comes back a few seconds later, stopping right before he’s in view.

“Close your eyes.”

“Frankie, c’mon, I said—”

“Please?” His tone is so innocent, guileless in his clear nerves around you seeing him with the new accessory.

“Okay, they’re closed.” You confirm once you have shut your eyes, sitting up as you eagerly await. His steps grow louder and you can feel the couch sink when he sits back down again, shifting to cheat his body in your direction. A silent beat drums between you two before he clears his throat with a defeated sigh.

“Okay, you can look.”

Opening your eyes, the immediate reaction is to press your lips together, holding back the overexcitement about the new look to not startle Frankie. Circling your eyes over his face, you study the thick oaky frames that stand out from his strong features, complementing them with a statement of their own. Rounded square shapes hold the lenses, the bridge of them perched perfectly on his hooked nose. The arms of them extend back to his ears, and he was right, they do make the tops of his ears stick out minisculely. But most of that is covered by the way his dense curls flick out around the glasses, poking out in the most adorable way.

And of course, they do nothing but create the perfect perimeter around those beloved brown eyes, the curvature of the lenses making them appear just the slightest bit larger. More for you to stare into.

The lack of reaction as you take it all in has perturbed Frankie, a groan identical to his this morning rolling from his chest, “See I knew these were no good, I’m not wearing ‘em. I look silly.”

One of his hands lifts from his lap to grab for the frames, your own hand quick to intercept the motion. Quickly shaking your head, the words spill out to stop his spiraling, “No no no, absolutely not. You don’t look silly at all, baby…”

“But you don’t like them?”

“I love them. They’re exactly what I would’ve chosen for you myself. You look so handsome, my Frankie.” Without holding back anymore, a blinding smile lights up your face and you shift to your knees to crawl over and straddle his thighs. Your arms wrap around his neck, pressing yourself against him in a tight, squeezing hug. His own arms snake around your back, keeping you flush against him. The two of you sit in that embrace for a few moments, only pulling back a few inches to look at his face again. Delicately, you lift a finger to trace the shape of the glasses, grinning sweetly when your eyes focus back on his.

“You look hot. Like a sexy professor or like…a cool movie star.” Frankie laughs and shakes his head, fingertips tracing up and down your lower spine. “Can’t wait to christen the glasses. Kinda want you to keep ‘em on later tonight.”

Frankie’s head twists in curiosity, a smirk settling easily on his face, “That so? Guess it is going to be nice to see your face clearly again. Think that was my sole motivator for getting the damn things finally…” He grins when you laugh, pushing his lips out in a pucker and his eyes widen as a thought pops into his head. “Pretty sure they’ll get all fogged up when I’m between your le—”

“Oh my god, don’t even finish that sentence. The glasses come off when you’re doing that, Francisco.” You shove his shoulder gently and he laughs brightly, his eye glittering in the warm light behind his lenses. His hands at your back pull you in closer again, his nose nudging yours before he catches your lips in a soft, supple, slow kiss. The feeling of the plastic frames against your skin is foreign, but welcome.

“Love you, baby,” he whispers against your skin before he presses a kiss to the corner of your lips.

Leaning back again, his hands coast up and down your sides while you reply, “Love you too, Frankie. Glasses or no glasses.”

taglist: @northernbluess @atinylittlepain @swiftispunk @joelsversion @mrsquill @ilovepedro @lovers-liability @deathwife @undrthelights @atticrissfinch @casa-boiardi @wannab-urs @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @fishingforpike @msjarvis @walkintotheriveranddisappear @sugadolly @yazsos @peppesgirl @pastawench @addictedtotlou @anoverwhelmingdin @wolfbook87 @mswarriorbabe80 @harriedandharassed @decemberdolly @laiisleitte @fierce-bab @pertinentpostmortem @livingdeadmaria @bitchwitch1981 @its-nebuleuse @marini03 @piercethevic03 @joeandpedrosimp @kiwisbell @planet-marz1 @jrosie25 @vee-bees-blog @joelsflannel @k-k0129 @cartoon-garbage04 @nostalxgic

[amarachno]

There is something… Wrong… With Drake. Its decidedly unsettling. There is something unnatural about the boy and Damian is unsure why they all ignore it. The Drake boy was always weird but this was different. It had started after they had all returned home from patrol one day. Something about Drake was making the hair on Damian’s arms stand at its end. He did not appreciate the way Drake was looking at him. It felt as though he was being looked at the same way a cat looks at an injured bird.

Damian had tried to talk to Pennyworth about it soon after Father’s return from the timestream but all he had managed from the butler had been, “Master Damian, calling Master Timothy an ‘Uncanny Horror from the pits’ is quite rude and I hope you never mention such a sentiment again.”

So obviously the… Thing… could manipulate minds. No matter! Damian would handle it. The first step? Kill it.

Its a good thing Damian has trained from birth in the League of Assassins. Although, his past attempts had unfortunate results —meaning none— but Damian would persevere. Perhaps keeping a closer eye on It would provide some insight.

Whatever had replaced Drake was terrifying. It. Never. Slept. And it always knew when Damian was watching it. The worst part? It was trying to spend TIME with him. Damian could barely stand to be within five feet of it. Its skin pale, hair pitch black, and its eyes- horrifying. When Damian first arrived at the manor, Drake had clear blue eyes. Now, they appeared dull and glassy. The color seeming as though it leaked out into the Thing’s hideous purple eyebags. Its skin seemed too loose and Its joints bent and stretched grotesquely.

The Thing turned its chair around, taking a break from staring at the computer in the cave. It stretched its spindly arms above its head, arms bending too far in the other direction. It turned to where Damian was hidden in a ledge in the roof of the Batcave.

“Heyyy Damian.” The Thing slurred, its speech slow and unclear. “If you want’d ta watch m’ do casework ya could’ve joined me”

Damian recoiled further into what should have been a flawless hiding space. He wanted to snap back that he didnt need Its company but his tongue seemed glued to the too of his mouth.

The Thing looked right at where Damian had hidden away. “Aww B’by Bat!” It cooed softly, “Come on down. Lets go g’t some hot chocolate from Alfie!”

Damian pressed tighter to the wall, attempting to force out a sentence. “That is quite alright, Drake. I am fine here.” He said attempting to sound steady.

“Well, suit yourself! Gonna go up now.” The Thing stumbled toward the stairs, its footsteps silent even as it walked unsteadily.

Damian didn’t leave his spot until Richard arrived in the cave two hours later.

Poison may actually work, Damian decided. Theoretically. The Thing was only inhabiting Drake’s body. Perhaps if the body died then so would the… Whatever it was. Damian is so prepared, father should be impressed- or he would be when that cursed being was out of the house. But what if someone else drank from the cup meant for Drake? Father would not tolerate a mission gone wrong, especially if Grayson or Pennyworth were harmed.

Then Damian remembered Drake’s travel cup, the one it took to work. That was simple enough. Sneak out to Its car, put the poison in the straw, get out. Yes finally a decent plan. Or at least Damian thought so.

Damian’s plan went off without a hitch. He had gained access to the security cameras within Wayne Enterprises and watched Drake drink the entire cup of poisoned coffee. The issue? The poison had no effect. Not even a stomach ache. Clearly the Thing was immune to poisons.

Perhaps silver would deal some damage.

Damian decided to purchase a silver knife. He had tested it and everything! It was real silver. Much of his savings from his allowance had been spent on the thing but this would be worth it.

People were getting suspicious though. Of Damian. Not of The Thing, to be clear.

How idiotic were these people! And they called themselves ‘Detectives’. No matter, Damian could handle this!

In the books that Damian had found, They mentioned fire as a potential weakness to supernatural creatures. If the silver knife did nothing, Damian would fall back and begin plan C. C for Cocktail. Molotov cocktail, to be exact.

Unfortunately, neither plans B nor C would come to fruition. Damian had been caught before he could even attempt either plan.

“Hey Dami, are you feeling okay?” Richard asked from behind Damian.

Damian didn’t scream. He didn’t! He also didn’t drop his book in surprise.

Richard surged forward to grab Damian before he fell from his spot on top of the T-Rex. “Hey bud, its okay. Its just me.” He soothed, wrapping his arms around Damian and carrying him off the T-Rex. “Why don’t you tell me whats going on?”

Damian gasped wriggling out of Dick’s arms to grab his sketchbook/impromptu demon hunting memoir off the ground where it fell. He clutched the book in his arms. “Nothing is wrong, I was simply lost in thought. You may go.” Damian snapped out, legs shaking and breath uneven.

Dick furrowed his brow, “Ive never seen you this shaken up before, Bitty Bat. Come here, we can talk about this upstairs over some cocoa.”

Damian’s eyes widened, if he could convince Richard then surely the Thing could be taken care of. “Very well, if we must.”

Dick smiled gently, though it seemed a little shaky. ”Up we go then!” Dick exclaimed, grabbing Damian and hoisting him onto his shoulders.

“Richard! this is unbecoming!” Damian squawked, holding onto Dick’s head so he wouldnt fall off.

Instead of replying, Dick just began making airplane noises, running toward the entrance to the manor.

It would have been a sweet moment, had The Thing not been standing right behind the grandfather clock. His sudden appearance had startled Damian so badly he fell backwards off Dick’s shoulders.

Damian braced for impact, expecting to head his head and then tumble down the concrete stairs- only, that didnt happen. The Thing threw itself backwards into the ground, his upper half on the stairs and his lower half on the floor. Damian fell heavily onto the Creature, knocking the wind out of It.

“OH MY GOD! ARE YOU TWO OKAY??!” Dick screeched at the top of his lungs. He picked Damian up off of The Thing and resting him on his hip, offering his other hand to ‘Drake’. Unfortunately, Damian’s adrenaline kicked in.

“PUT ME DOWN THIS INSTANT!” Damian bellowed, squirming out of Dick’s grip. “ITS GOING TO KILL US! WE ANGERED IT AND WE NEED TO GO!” Damian began pulling Dick toward the door of the study.

Alarmed, Dick turned to look closer at Damian. His face was pale, eyes wide and glancing frantically around the room and then back at Tim. Damian was sweating, looking as if he were seconds from bursting into tears. “What are yo-“

“It knows i know” Damian gasped out, pulling desperately at Dick’s arm. “ITS GOING TO KILL ME! WE NEED TO GET SOMEWHERE SAFE!”

Damian was working himself into a panic. Dick threw an apologetic glance at Tim who was brushing himself off and looking bewildered at Damian. Dick turned toward the door, allowing Damian to drag him where he wanted to go.

As soon as Damian was out the door, he took off running, forcing Dick to run with him. They got inside Damian’s room and Dami immediately began barricading the door.

“Damian, what’s going on?” Dick questioned softly.

Instead of answering, Damian started rushing around his room. He pulled the silver knife out from between his mattress and the boxspring, grabbed a lighter and what looked like a molotov cocktail from the top of his closet.

Dick was becoming more alarmed by the second. Why in tarnation did Damian have a molotov cocktail just sitting around??? Dick quickly snatched both objects away from Damian, setting them on top if the highest shelf in the room. It wouldn’t stop Damian for long but it would give Dick some time.

When both objects where taken from Damian, he stopped in his tracks, looking fearfully at Dick. “Did it- Are you…” Damian began sobbing. “I don’t want to die. Please don’t kill me, please! I’ll be an asset to you! I swear it! I’ll be good!” Damian’s pleading and sobbing was met with Dick gently hugging Damian to his chest. And like a puppet with its wires cut, Damian passed out into Dick’s arms.

“Oh shit!” Dick exclaimed. He felt at Damian’s forehead, flinching back at how hot he felt. Dick grabbed his phone and called Bruce. “Hey Bruce, I’m gonna need you to come home. Somethings wrong with Damian.” Dick set Damian on the bed and got to work un barricading the door.

“What happened?” Bruce questioned, sounding more like Batman than Bruce. “Is everyone okay?”

“Dick relayed the events that happened that afternoon while getting Damian down to the cave. He was tucked in to a bed in the med bay, a cold rag set on his forehead.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there.” Bruce murmured into the phone. “Im on my way now. I’ll be there in 15.”

“Bruce, that’s a 30 minute drive.” Dick said incredulously.

“Hnn” Bruce grunted, hanging up.

Dick pinched two fingers to the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache coming on. he turned to see Tim waiting in the doorway.

“Is he okay?” Tim questioned softly.

“I’m not sure. I don’t know what happened.” Dick replied tiredly.

Tim sighed, “I noticed he was acting a little weird, but I kind of just thought I had pissed him off?” Tim said. “He’s been following me around recently. And I think he poisoned my coffee? I mean, maybe it wasn’t him. But, the other day, my coffee tasted weird, I drank it anyway of course, but I felt really sick that night. It probably didn’t work because I built my poison resistance up while I was looking for Bruce but-“ Tim cut off his rambling, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt.

Dick sighed, putting his face in his hands. “I don’t know what to do, Tim. We were making a lot of progress, before. But now I might need to set the ‘Days Since Last Familicide’ dry erase board back to zero.” Dick said tiredly. “I thought I had finally made him feel safe here.”

Tim looked off to the side, “What if its not either of your faults?” He offered, tilting his head. “Maybe he got injured and never told anyone. here why don’t I draw his blood and I’ll run it through. we’ll be able to tell if he’s been injured or injected with something.”

Dick agreed and Tim ran Damian’s blood. While they waited, sat by Damian’s side and ran his hands through the kid’s hair. Soon enough, the test results were done and Bruce got back.

“Good timing, Bruce.” Tim called, “I was just about to go through the results” he added.

Bruce stalked forward, standing next to Damian and feeling his forehead and cheeks. “When did this fever start?” Bruce questioned softly.

“I dont know, B. I only realized when he passed out earlier.” Dick replied.

Bruce turned and walked towards the computer where the results were, looking through the blood test to figure out what was wrong.

“Bruce, it looks like he got hit with fear toxin.” Tim pointed out. “ Maybe a new strain, a slow-acting one. That would explain why he’s been acting so weird recently. Did you fight Crane on patrol last week?”

Bruce slapped his hand over his face, slowly dragging it down. “We found one of his abandoned labs. We split off for about 10 minutes to check out different rooms. He said he didn’t find anything though.” Bruce said guilty.

Dick cried out, “Bruce that was so stupid! And you didn’t even check him for anything afterwards?”

Bruce shook his head. “I owe him an apology.” He said sadly. He walked over and administered an antidote.

“Well, theres no use dwelling on it now.” Tim pointed out. “Dick and Bruce, you can stay here and wait for the kid to wake up. He seemed the most freaked out by me so I think I’ll go upstairs. I don’t think I’ve slept this week anyway.” Tim muttered that last part, but Bruce and Dick heard it anyway.

“Timmy, what have I told you about staying up that long?” Dick admonished.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know. I’ll sleep now I guess. If im not awake in 20 hours, wake me up. I have presentations to put together for next week.” Tim said exasperated.

Bruce waved him off, “I’ll take care of it, Chum.”

Tim shot a thumbs up over shoulder and then walked out of the cave.

with the antidote administer, the only thing left to do was wait. When Damian woke up. He began trying to explain that Tim had been taken over by some creature, though, all his evidence was debunked.

“Drake looks like a corpse!” Damian exclaimed.

“Yeah I’ve been telling him to go out in the sun more often. He also just told us he hasn’t slept yet this week and its Friday.” Dick explained calmly.

“Okay, then what about the weird way he moves? I’ve seen him stretch his limbs bend the wrong way” Damian pleaded.

“Tim is hyper mobile, Dami. His joints just do that. It’s honestly a little freaky so I get it. I mean, mine are bendy and all, but not that way.” Dick replied patiently.

Damian looked down, ashamed. “How did he survive the poison? That was League specific.”

Dick thought about his answer for a moment, ���Apparently, while he was looking for Bruce, Tim trained up his poison tolerance. I don’t know why he did that or how he got his hands on league poison.”

Damian shoved his face into his hands. “I was going to stab him with a silver knife… and then said him on fire.” Damian said, embarrassed.

“I know. I’m sorry,” Bruce finally spoke up. “All of that is on me. I should’ve had you decontaminated and tested after patrol last week. If I had, then you wouldn’t of had to spend this week scared.”

“I wasn’t scared!” Damian claimed, his face burning.

“Sure bud, but it’s okay if you were.” Dick said gently. “But anyway. We can talk about this later. For now, why don’t I get Alfred to bring you something to eat.”

“That would be acceptable, I suppose.”

——

(later over comms)

Tim: Yo Jason I gotta tell you how I wouldve been murdered this time

Jason: How?

Tim: Demon Brat made me my very own molotov cocktail!

Jason: *dies of laughter* HOLY SHIT!

Damian: Cease this senseless mockery!

Jason: No, kid, its badass *laughs more* priceless.

[occatorcreator]

Second Chances

Links - 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

4 - Friendship Lost

It's always one step forward and two steps back for Purple. An unexpected reunion between the color gang and a long lost friend threatens to tear apart Purple with jealousy.

Time flies. Months rolled by since that argument and the gang kept true to their word.  They did their best to not start unsanctioned fights whenever they got upset or angry. At least, while in front of Purple.

But that was fine by Purple. Without the worry about a potential fuse blowing, Purple felt more at ease being around them. Visits to each other’s desktops became more frequent as a result. Purple found himself chilling on the Animator’s desktop more often than his own as the year went on, entertained by the creative ways the four played with Minecraft and other games.

It distracted him from the pain. A pain that was lessening in intensity every month, but Purple could still feel it. The thoughts nagged at him; how would Orchid and Navy feel about what he was doing? How long is this friendship going to last, really? 

“You know, we were originally created to fight each other for eternity,” Yellow confessed to Purple privately one day as they showed him around their website.

The mention of being created for the purpose of fighting made Purple’s stomach clench uneasily.

“This was where we were meant to be,” Yellow said, gesturing to the blank white walls, “to fight for the rest of our days until one of us won.” They dropped their hands to their sides. “We ended up declaring a truce two weeks in.”

“Why?” Purple asked. “What made you stop?”

“Look around,” Yellow said. “I like this place. I come here whenever I need space, but it wasn’t like that initially. Imagine you were created to hate four other people, and your creator put you in a box with them, and none of you could leave that box.”

Purple’s eyes widened slowly as he tried to imagine, yet he couldn’t. Suddenly, the sparse decor and white color felt oppressive. Yellow smiled sadly.

“You understand, even when you like it, fighting grows monotonous here,” Yellow said, “I still have these thoughts of attacking them when we’re just hanging out, doing nothing… sometimes I see in their eyes, they have the exact same instinct that I have. But, I think we’ve been getting better at handling them. Thanks.”

Why are you thanking me? Purple thought, I just pointed out the obvious without even knowing how you lived.

He still didn’t know them all that well, did he?

“How did you get out?” Purple asked softly.

To that, Yellow looked away, shoulders tense.

“A stick figure broke in, somehow,” Yellow said, letting out a bemused huff, “that Orange kid… they came looking for a fight for some reason, but didn’t even have a proper fighting stance. When we saw the wall was broken down, we were so happy to be free and almost ignored them! They were chill enough to show us around the computer” He sighed. “But then Alan deleted us.”

Purple nearly tripped over himself. “Alan deleted you?”

“We spawned right back here,” Yellow said, so casually as if the fact Alan deleting them didn’t warrant further explanation, “We couldn’t do much until he refreshed the page, and when he did, the desktop was a mess. Orange had fought Alan and ran off.”

“As they should!” Purple said, crossing his arms, “Why are you living with Alan after what he did to you?”

“I mean, well,” Yellow cleared their throat, “Alan really regretted what he did. I don’t think there’s a day that goes by that he doesn’t, probably why he treats us so kindly now. We came to forgive him after a while, but I get it if you feel differently after knowing that.”

Purple didn’t know what to say. Had Yellow said nothing, Purple would still be blissfully ignorant and see the Animator as yet another kindly human. The shock of it left him stunned.

“He asked us to find them, and helped us search. We went out into the city putting up flyers…” Yellow kicked the ground. “But we got nothing. We tried for months before we just gave up. It's been almost two years since we last heard of them.” Yellow whistled. “Hard to believe it’s been that long, huh?”

“Yeah,” Purple’s heart hammered. He nodded, feeling uneasy at the mention of the passage of time. “Can hardly believe it.”

The year wrapped up, and soon Purple’s birthday reared its ugly head again. They already celebrated the gang’s mutually shared birthday, so of course the others wanted to celebrate Purple’s in kind. Purple should have known better than to have told them his birthday was coming. He should have expected it when they invited him to their desktop that day without warning and surprised them with a large cake.

“Happy birthday!” 

Purple eyed the cake, staring at the numbered candles that read “18” on it.

That can’t be real, can it?

“Eighteen, eh?” Green walked up and playfully nudged Purple’s shoulder, oblivious to how still Purple was. “What’s it feel like to be a certified old person?”

It was meant to be a joke, so Green couldn’t know how much it hurt Purple to hear. 

Old. Somehow time slipped past him, and Purple was now officially an adult. And yet he didn’t feel like he was. It didn’t register that he was older now, aging. He would have been a senior by now, a couple months from graduating. He could picture it clearly: wearing the cap, the gown, his mother staring at him with pride…

But no. He was here, a high school dropout, spending his life in a game made for children instead of going to college or finding a job. His mother was gone, and she would never get the chance to see her son become an adult.

She died young, he realized, as he watched the cake with its light pink frosting drip. But she died old.

Would the same fate happen to him?

“Purple? Purple, what's the matter?”

Purple couldn’t hear Blue’s concerned voice over the sudden, gross sobbing that seized him. Purple hid his shame in his hands, trying to push the tears back, but the sobbing wouldn’t stop.

“Hey, was it the joke?”Green asked, shocked, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

He trailed off, unsure as to what had set him off. None of them saw Purple reduce to such tears in the year knowing him. Purple wouldn’t have allowed it before.

“Please, no,” Purple tried to speak through the blubbering, “I’m not ready – I don’t want this. Please.”

Arms wrapped around him, and Purple felt himself being ushered off the desktop and sat down somewhere else. Purple gulped air down, wiping away the streaks as he heard the others trying to calm him down. He noticed that they brought him to their webpage, sitting around the card table. Yellow and Green were beside him while Red and Blue looked across anxiously.

When the sniffling died down did Yellow ask, “What was that all about?”

“Really, Yellow?” Blue frowned at Yellow.

“What? I have no idea what happened!” Yellow said. “I’m sorry Purple, but that was… kinda scary. Did we do something?”

“Is it something about your birthday?” Red asked.

Purple shut his eyes and willed himself to breathe slowly and evenly. Thankfully, they stopped asking their questions as he tried to calm down. 

I never did explain to them about my mother, Purple thought. Despite knowing each other for a year at this point, he found that there was never a good time to explain all of his mess. Of his loss, or why certain days he wanted no contact from them. It was daunting, frightening to even tell them of it.

But when he opened his eyes again he saw the faces of his concerned friends who only wanted to celebrate with him.

They told me their issues, he supposed.

“There’s something I didn’t tell you all…” Purple confessed quietly. “What happened before we met…”

=

“This is where you buried her?”

Purple could only shrug at Green’s question. “There was no body to bury.”

It was a week after his birthday. A week after he shared about his mother’s death, his father’s abandonment, and his reasons for hating his birthday. When Purple admitted that he had not visited her grave since her death, it was Blue’s recommendation for him to go. She emphasized that he didn’t have to or could go alone if he wanted, but he insisted they visit.

Purple forgot that seasons passed for the city, and it was winter. Here they all were, standing in the chill with little in the way of protection. The tombstones were covered in thick piles of snow. The Minecraft daisy they placed before her grave blended in with the ground. 

“It’s strange,” Purple said after a moment of silence, “some days I don’t feel much of anything, I hardly think of her. Other days it hits me like a train, and it hurts so much.”

Yellow let out a small hum in acknowledgement, but otherwise was silent. He, Blue, and Green stared at her grave in silence, while Red was looking around the cemetery, eyes darting from grave to grave.

“You alright, Red?” Purple asked.

“Huh? No, I’m fine,” she said in a rush, made awkward by Purple’s question. “It’s just…” she looked up at the sky, straining to think. “…a lot of graves here.”

“We are in a cemetery, Red,” Green said with bitter sarcasm.

“I know. It’s just… a lot of dead rest here,” Red said, quietly, “it’s been weighing on my mind, I guess.”

Guess she’s just uncomfortable and bored, Purple thought. He empathized with that feeling. He was dreading coming back to the cemetery the whole travel time, fearing that he’d repeat his gross sobbing again. But he didn’t; no tears were shed.

Despite how morose he felt standing before her grave, he felt also at ease with his friends by his side.

“So,” Purple announced, clapping his hands and startling them. “I don’t think you guys really got to see the sights around here. How about you follow me?”

=

Purple didn’t have any cash on hand, so he couldn’t treat them to lunch. But there was a park nearby with a track and field. He figured they would like physical activity even if it was cold.

“It's so lovely out here!” Blue said, taking in the pristine landscape.

“Look! A squirrel!” Red pointed up at the trees.

“I don’t see anything,” Yellow said, trying to peer up through the bare branches. “Are you sure a squirrel would be up during winter, Red?”

Purple and Green stood off to the side, Green chuckling. “I’m not surprised that Red and Blue adore the place.”

“I used to come here a lot when I was a little kid,” Purple said.

“As little as them?” Green asked, pointing out to the field. Children were running around, screaming, throwing snowballs, and making snowpeople. “Wow, they are very small…”

Right, you never really had a childhood like I did, Purple reminded himself. It made him realize that his mother and father were the same as Green; they also never had a childhood the way Purple and his high school peers did.

“You know, you should be grateful you skipped that stage,” Purple said, “I have so many embarrassing memories, let me tell you.”

He waited for Green to say something in response, but when none came, he turned to look. Green had come to a standstill, looking at a nearby park bench with eyes stretched wide in surprise. Purple turned back to try and look for what was happening but didn’t find anything out of the ordinary. There were kids running about, parents eating at a park bench, an orange teen playing swords with their younger brother…

Wait, Purple paused upon seeing the teen. The distinctive hollow head was something Purple only saw once, but couldn’t forget. They were talking with his old high school friends about him...

“Be grateful you never met him. He’d be horrible to you too.”

And Green was staring at them with the biggest grin on his face.

“Guys! Come quickly!” Green called Red, Blue, and Yellow over, waving, “It’s Orange!”

“Orange?” Blue exclaimed as they ran over. She rubbed her eyes like she couldn’t believe what she was seeing, “It is! They were here this whole time?”

“What are we waiting for?” Red said, taking off after them. “Come on!”

Green, Blue, and Yellow quickly raced after Red, leaving Purple in the dust.

“Ah! Wait!” Purple chased after them. A little too late, as the group already went skidding up to Orange. The golden child they were playing with, surprised by five random stick figures coming up to them, rushed to Orange's side, hiding partially behind their back.

And Orange shared the same look Green had earlier, shock turned to a disbelieving joy.

“Green? Red?” they said, “Blue and Yellow too? I thought you were-”

“Yes!” Green laughed. “We’re here! And we’re okay, see?”

“Oh my goodness!” Orange jumped up to hug Green, “I thought you were dead!”

“We got better!” Yellow said, joining in the hug. “I thought we would never see you again!” Red and Blue joined as well, creating a rainbow group hug.

You only knew them for a day and haven’t seen them in years! Purple balked at the sight of his friends hugging a stranger. He stood off to the side, staring and then looking at the child who looked just as bewildered and confused as he felt. 

This kid feels familiar too, but I can’t place where I saw him?

The child regarded Purple with similar recognition, his eyes squinting in judgment. Recovered from the shock, they charged into Orange’s friends, trying to shove and push them off of the hollow head.

“Get away from Second!” He shouted, smacking Red with his shoulder.

“Hmm?” Given that the child was half Red’s size and bulk, she broke from the group and looked down with curiosity. “Who’s this?”

The others broke the hug and turned their attention to Gold. Upon seeing muscular teens and his pitiful efforts to push them off, the kid shrank back a couple steps.

“Come on, Gold, don’t be rude!” Orange said, rubbing the kid’s shoulder, “Guys, this is my little brother, Gold.”

“Aww, a little brother?” Blue cooed.

“Hey! Same color as me!” Yellow said, holding his hand out for a high five.

Gold eyed their hand nervously. “I’m darker,” Gold corrected, crossing his arms.

“Only a bit,” Yellow said, holding his thumb and index finger an inch apart.

“How did you get a little brother? What have you been up to this whole time?” Green asked. “We tried looking for you…”

“You have?” Orange said, placing a hand on their cheek, “this whole time? I’m so sorry, I didn’t know.”

Green exchanged a concerned look with Yellow and Blue as though that was a strange statement. Only Red didn’t seem bothered.

“Oh, come off it,” Red waved her hand, “you couldn’t help it! We should just be glad to meet again despite it all!”

Orange beamed at Red. “Yeah! You have to tell me what you’ve been up to?” They said, their eyes turning to Purple, “Like, who’s this?”

The suddenness of being acknowledged caused Purple to flinch slightly. Their curious stare made Purple feel like he shouldn’t be there at all.

“This is our friend, Purple,” Green said, “We met him through Minecraft!”

There, it was - only for a second, but Purple could see the moment Orange registered the name. The smile dimmed, eyebrows lowered before returning to normal.

Were they wondering if I’m that Purple their other friends talked about? He thought, feeling his palms sweat. The horrible high school dropout?

If they did, they didn’t comment. Instead they turned back to Green to continue the conversation. “Minecraft?” 

“It’s a video game!” Green said, “Ah, man, we got so much to tell you.”

“Same here!” Orange said, “It’s time for lunch anyways, and I have money saved up.” They looked down at Gold. “How about you, feeling up for some hot chocolate and pastries?”

Gold looked up at Orange like it was a bad idea before nodding anyways. 

“Awesome! I’m starved!” Red said, pumping her arms up.

And I feel sick, Purple thought.

=

That fateful meeting changed everything. Now that the gang was reunited with their old friend, they were desperate to reconnect. Purple and Gold felt like accessories, watching as the five conversed with each other.

Only, Gold joined in to ask his curious questions more often, slowly warming up to the new stick figures. After the conversation was over and it was time for them to head home, Gold had taken a strong liking to them.

Purple couldn’t say the same. Orange spoke of school and their after-school curriculars. They were positively thriving: a Straight-A student, getting an A+ in an honors math class no less, becoming their soccer team’s team captain… Oh, and on top of being brilliant in sports and academics, they were a prolific artist. They even pulled out a stunning piece of art from their pocket to show them.

Oh, how Purple hated them. 

He thought he couldn’t hate anyone more than he hated his father, but no, that didn’t hold a candle to the burning disgust he had for this stupid and apparently perfect stick figure! Didn't help that the others loved them to bits. Even after heading back to the desktop, with promises to meet up again, they talked about Orange the whole way back. Purple tried to tune them out, but it was impossible, because he couldn’t stop thinking of them either.

No one can be that great, Purple thought, stomach churning.

“Hey, Purple?” Blue said, “You’ve been quiet for a long time. Are you feeling alright?”

Purple turned his head, his face turning to stone less he expressed how he really felt. Blue was quicker to detect something was wrong, but her concern made Purple rankle.

Oh, I’m sorry, am I bringing down the mood after meeting your better friend? He thought. 

“I think the hot chocolate didn’t sit well with me,” Purple said instead. 

“Need some milk then?” Red asked.

Purple shook his head. “I think I’ll retire for tonight.”

Yellow frowned and looked down at the desktop clock. “It’s only 6-”

“Good night! See you tomorrow!” Purple shouted before booking it out of there. He raced towards his room and closed his door with a slam loud enough to spook nearby villagers. But he couldn’t rest, even when night did fall. Nothing he did could settle the newfound distress in his chest.

It only got worse as the months rolled on and winter melted away into spring. The gang started making plans to visit Orange more often. They wanted to hang at the arcade, the parks, the mall, Orange’s soccer matches and art competitions. They wanted to play with their little brother, Gold. Purple was invited to tag along, but it felt like a formality, as Purple hardly felt included in their conversations when he joined.

Some days, they played Minecraft like normal, adventuring like usual. But there was always that shadow of Orange. So many mentions of “Orange would love this game!” or “Can’t wait to tell Orange!”

Purple struggled to find anything really wrong with Orange personality wise. And believe him, he scoured for any dirt. They were polite, if cautious. They were an attentive listener to the gang’s wild stories. They cared for Gold and their mysterious father figure, Mango Tango. It seemed like the small family were openly proud of Orange’s accomplishments, given the times Gold bragged about Orange.

The gang were unabashedly proud of Orange too, so happy when they met up.

He couldn’t help but wonder, had Orange not run away, would they even be friends with Purple? Was he just a pathetic replacement to tide them over until they found Orange again?

I hate this. Purple thought with resentment. Why am I not good enough for anyone?

At some point, Purple had enough and tried avoiding Orange whenever he could. He declined outings, blaming Alana or some villager for his “full” schedule. Eventually the others could tell he was full of baloney, but they did not try to challenge him on it.

Time played in reverse. At first, they tried to be consistent with their meetups, then they started missing those. Eventually they hung out occasionally every two weeks, then once every month. And the times they did meet up felt stilted, awkward. The games they played weren’t as fun as they were before.

It all came to a head on Gold’s birthday.

The gang wanted to get a present for Gold and invited Purple, out of formality. Much to their surprise, Purple took the invitation instead of declining. Purple wasn’t exactly sure why; he hated Orange and found Gold annoying. But he missed the gang.

How did it get to this point? Why can’t we go back to before you found Orange again?  He wanted to ask, but he kept those words deep in his heart.

Orange met up with them at the mall, greeting them with hugs. 

“Oh, Purple, you’re here too!” they said, standing awkwardly before Purple.

“Yep,” he grumbled, giving them a half-hearted wave.

Just like that, a stilted awkwardness hung over the group. They walked around, looking for a good store and discussing what gifts Gold would like. Usually, Orange lead at the front in these endeavors, but this time they hung in the back, walking beside Purple.

“Sooo, it’s been awhile since I last saw you,” Orange said after some point of silence, “How’ve you been?”

Stop pretending like you care, Purple scowled, only bothering to shrug in response. I’m not your friend.

“You know, I’ve been meaning to ask,” Orange continued, not discouraged by Purple’s coldness, “Do you know someone named Chestnut? Or Periwinkle?”

Purple squinted at Orange. “I might, I might not,” he said, “Why do you ask?”

“Because they might have mentioned you,” Orange said, “that you used to go to our school, but you stopped coming two years ago…”

“Oh, really? Did they tell you because they were worried about me?” Purple asked, “or did they just want to spread some juicy gossip about me?”

To that, Orange looked elsewhere.

“You could clear it up,” Orange said, “they didn’t say many kind things about you, but my friends–” they looked to Red and Yellow arguing with Green and Blue about some tangential thing, “– really like you. And they’re worried about you too. They’ve mentioned you’ve been kind of distant lately.”

“Oh! Oh, really? Because that’s news to me,” Purple snapped. It stung. If they were concerned, why did they not tell Purple? Why tell Orange instead?

No, Purple doubted they said anything. Orange had to be asking for an alternative reason.

 “So you’re trying to see if it’s my fault?” Purple growled, pointing a finger at them.

Orange waved their hands in a panic. “No! No! I’m not-”

“Then why bring it up?” Purple continued. “Right after mentioning my former friends? Oh no, your friends wouldn’t do anything wrong or have the wrong idea. It has to be Purple’s fault! He’s up to his old manipulative ways again! Well, I’m not the one who goes to Alan’s to see if they want to hang out, and finds they’ve bailed on me to go see you! If anything, it’s your fault!”

Orange’s eyes stretched and narrowed. “My fault? It’s not at all my fault they wanted to hang out with me,” Orange challenged. “Besides, they say that you decide to pass when meeting here. They’re allowed to have other friends, Purple!” 

“If they didn’t run into you, everything would be as usual,” Purple yelled, “We would be hanging out and going on adventures! Instead, we’re going shopping for your dumb brother.”

“Don’t you dare call Gold dumb.” Orange yelled back, and it was the first time Purple saw a murderous anger burn in their eyes. They jabbed a finger in his chest and it hurt. “You apologize right now- ”

“Or what? You’ll hit me?” Purple pushed their hands back, “That would make you look real bad, huh? You’d look like a temperamental jerk if you did. What have you been telling them about me? Have you been calling me an umbrella thief? Or an absolute flake? Have you been trying to turn them against me?”

“Shut up!” Orange was shaking with rage. They raised their fists. “What is wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with you?” Purple repeated.

“Stop it!” Green came in between them before either could say or make another move. “Stop it, both of you!”

Red and Yellow had rushed to Orange’s side to pull them back while Blue grasped at Purple’s shoulders. Both stick figures pushed the offending hands off of them.

Green was looking between them in bewilderment. “What is going on?”

“Nothing,” Orange said, crossing their arms, “Purple’s being a real jackass.”

“Ha! I could say the same about you!” Purple laughed, “You were about to hit me!” 

“Purple,” Green warned, “this isn't like you. Why are you starting fights?”

“Why are you accusing me?” Purple yelled, “You’re taking their side!”

“We’re not,” Blue said, moving beside Green, “but Purple, you’ve been acting really different for a long time.”

“Becoming very bitter,” Yellow added. “You hardly want to hang with us.”

“I hardly want to hang out with you? Me?” Purple snapped. “Maybe I don’t want all my hangouts to be with a loser like them!” He pointed at Orange, and Red had to pull Orange back again. “You guys hang off them as if they can walk on water!”

They all had the gall to be stunned by Purple’s statement. Were they that oblivious to how Purple felt the entire time?

“Purple, we thought we’d never see them again,” Green said, “They thought we were dead for years! What’s wrong with wanting to spend time with them after all the time we lost?”

“I never said you couldn’t,” Purple growled, “but it’s funny how you knew me for longer, and you chose to hang out with them! Every time! Right after I showed you–” He stopped, recalling Orange was there and observing.

Like he’d ever share his past to them.

“Why didn’t you say anything to us?” Red asked.

“I thought it was obvious!”

“We’re not mind readers!” Green snapped, pointing a finger at Purple, “You always do that! You sulk and get mad at us without ever telling us jack! I thought we were over this?”

“Why didn’t you ask?” Purple asked. “You noticed I was being different, and you never thought to ask?”

“You… make it hard to ask…” Blue said, rubbing her arm.

“Right, of course, it's all my fault again!” Purple growled, turning away. As he did, he saw the crowd of shoppers around them, having paused to watch the argument unfold. Given their judging stares, no doubt they saw Purple as the one in the wrong again.

“Purple! We’re not accusing you! We just asked you to tell us,” Green said. He placed his hand on Purple’s arm. “We’re friends. You should feel comfortable telling us how you really feel!”

“Are we really?” Purple asked, yanking his arm back. He glared at all of them, hating how they stood beside Orange. “Are we really friends if you keep blowing me off for someone else?”

Green looked helplessly at him. “Purple…”

But he added nothing more, and Purple turned away.

“Guess that answers it,” Purple said, “I guess this is it, then. I’m leaving. Don’t you dare follow me!”

“Purple!”

Purple ran and didn’t dare look back. Despite what he said, part of him hoped that one of them would run after him, to stop him.

They didn’t.

[longing-for-rain]

I've been seeing people compare Zutara to reylo again to call people who like Zutara "colonizer romance fans" meanwhile Zuko is actually nothing like Kylo. Zuko was born into a system and abused by his father and as he grew up and was on his own he realized and acknowledged that system was wrong and worked to atone and fight that system all as a teenager. Meanwhile Kylo was born to parents who were members of the resistance and joined the Empire as an adult man. He was basically an alt right incel. The only reason there was even any "redemption" is because Rian Johnson was obsessed with his character and felt he was "so relatable" and wanted to find a way to make him the focus and many others empathized with the nazi characters over the resistance members and a character who actually escaped after being indoctrinated as a child.

Idk, I just think it's weird how dedicated people are to claiming that is anything like Zuko because they don't like that people who like Zutara, like Katara being in a ship where she's treated like her own person, and not an extension of a man or like a trophy that could be won. It's like people wish they could punish us for being critical of Aang's character, how Katara is treated (by him and others), and believing that Zuko is a better developed character and that Katara got to be her own person and feel her feelings in their scenes.

I'm sorry I rambled it's just been something so ridiculous to keep witnessing.

100% agree, it's really annoying how those ships get lumped together when they have nothing in common but aesthetics and some very surface-level tropes.

I know I've talked about this before, but the cognitive dissonance people have when it comes to Zuko is sad. Zuko is probably the most well-developed character in the entire show, and the groundwork of his redemption can be seen as early as the beginning of Book 1. Even in his first action as a villain, he's shown to conduct himself with honor and mercy in a way someone like Zhao wouldn't have (not to mention how Zhao is set up as a foil to Zuko from the beginning).

The other great thing about Zuko's redemption story is that he didn't do it for romantic reasons, or even for another person. Actually, it was the opposite; in order to begin fighting for good, he had to work against the desire to please his father which is very difficult for a victim of child abuse. He also left his current girlfriend in order to run away from the Fire Nation.

ATLA does a great job at building Zuko up as a character who has a strong sense of morality, even if misguided at first. It's plain to see how his changes are a result of genuine passion for protecting the world from his father and how he took responsibility for his past actions.

I don't think any of what I said is controversial and it's pretty much universally agreed upon by fans. Unless you think maybe this character should kiss a character with a different skin color. Then suddenly none of that development matters and he's back to being an evil, violent colonizer.

[maple-the-awesome]

Friend or Foe || Part 2/3

Part 1 || Part 3

Pairings: Time, Wind, Wild x GN Reader

Overview: Link visits an alternate world without its hero and, more importantly, a version of you without your Link. Unfortunately, it seems even the smallest of details can lead to disastrous results. In spirt of Halloween, I've decided to do a little evil prompt because none of the Links have enough emotional damage yet😈

Zelda Masterlist 💙Fandom Masterlist

Time may not remember everything that has occurred over his many, long adventures, but he does remember the day you met. Only children then, you both made an innocent promise to marry once adults. Now, Time may be a lot of things, but he has always been a man of his word. How could he not be when presented the perfect chance to spend the rest of his life with his childhood crush? You’re the one person he can trust with his every secret - the reward at the end of every troubling journey. He lives to see your joy and dies to see your sorrow, even when it isn't exactly 'your' sorrow...

It's difficult business keeping track of eight young boys and men, especially when they're all cursed with the same adventurous spirits that are easily distracted. Of course they’ve managed to disappear here. He can only blame himself for not having questioned their silence sooner, although he’d be lying to say he doesn’t feel disappointed, notably with the older boys, Twilight and Warrior, who are usually more responsible than to simply wander off without a word of explanation. Alas, even they’re nowhere to be seen, his only hint of other life nearby being a giggle that echoes off the vast number of gigantic trees.

"My, my. One more left I see?" Time leaps back, hand already on his sword when he hears the voice, “Oooh, and look at you! So handsome! So fierce! I’m digging the scar - it makes you look so tough. And those muscles, too! You seem like you would really know how to -”

“- Where are you?!” Time demands, getting his answer promptly when a figure swings down from a branch mere feet away from his face.

“Wow! You’re even hotter up closer!”

Time's eyes widen in surprise due to both their sudden entrance and their physical appearance. This mysterious person has wild hair that sticks out in every direction with their body lacking a healthy weight or color, yet Time immediately ignores all of that in favor of focusing upon the mask they wear - one he knows all too well but wishes he didn’t. He thought, for a second, that he may have recognized their voice, too, yet he’s more certain that he must be mistaken in that regard. No way it could be…

“Hey, you were traveling with those other boys, right? So maybe you’ll be nicer by giving me the answers I want! You see, beautiful stranger, I’m looking for a special friend of mine. We made a promise a while back and I intend to fulfill it if I could just find him first. None of the travelers I’ve found in these woods so far are him, so I was beginning to lose hope until I overheard those friends of yours mention his name, but they -”

Time can’t move, his body overcome with a chilled wave that ends with his feet cemented to the ground. It would be reasonable to say he misheard the first time, and he could keep denying it if he wants now, but that wouldn’t change the fact that he does recognize this person’s voice. How could he not when it’s the same that belongs to his own person angel? It’s a disordered version of yours, however this person isn’t you. This can’t be you because last he checked, you were safe back home where you promised to wait for his next return. How could you suddenly be here in this world, kept under the binding influence of Majora’s Mask?

“- Hey, are you broken?!” This person - who still so eerily sounds like you despite Time’s refusal to admit such a thing - knocks a fist against his forehead, barely flinching when he jerks back with a gasp, “Sooo? You gonna help me or just be difficult like your friends, eh? I don’t have all day, miser!”

Perhaps this ‘you’ is simply a figment of his imagination created by the forest to torment him; that must be the answer. He just has to play the game - no matter how much it messes with his head - to find out what happened to the boys. He’s dealt with enough Skull Kids before, this would be a piece of cake.

“I -...This friend of yours, who is he? Someone you’ve lost in the forest?” Time asks carefully, doing his best not to react too much outwardly, after all he’s seen first hand how Majora’s Mask can affect the mind of its wearer, and this ‘you’ before him has already clearly been put through the wringer.

“If I knew where I had lost him, I would’ve found him!” You snap in irritation.

Time swallows, “...Right, that does make sense, but perhaps if you could tell me his name, I could offer you better help in finding him?”

You seem pleased by this answer, swinging yourself upright on the branch where you become illuminated only by the glowing eyes of your mask, “Link.”

“L…Link?” That cold feeling from before returns, making Time suddenly feel sick to his stomach as the dots finally begin to connect in his head. This is no figment of his imagination - no trick of the light or evil illusion. It really is you…not the same version of you he married, but the other he promised to…

In Wind’s world, you're an adored teacher on Windfall Island. You’re kind, caring, and very knowledgeable about Hyrule's history which came in handy whenever he needed pointers during his early adventures. Yes, you would express concern over a child of his age partaking in such dangerous affairs (you thought it was all a joke when he first told you) and you've let it slip before that you aren't the biggest fan of pirates, although beyond your mother-like worry which you’ve adopted towards all your students (even the unofficial ones like Wind), you’ve ultimately supported him every step of the way. You've always been a huge role model for him, so this shift in personality is more than unexpected...

Wind was excited to show his new friends around what he thought to be his own Hyrule and relieved to discover they weren’t alone on this island they’ve found themselves stuck on after wandering through another portal. A pirate ship anchored on shore - the very ship belonging to Zelda’ crew, as Wind foolishly assured the others despite their caution. Now, thanks to his impatience and eagerness, he sits saddened and embarrassed next to the rest of the heroes as they remain tied to the ship’s mast. 

It’s confusing. The pirates of this ship are the same as Zelda's crew, yet they claimed to not at all recognize the younger pirate regardless of his attempts to jog their memories. Instead, they had rounded him and the rest of the Chain up the second they approached their dock, taking them prisoner where they currently wait for 'the Captain's reaction'. 

The Captain. This made Wind feel relieved again. Zelda. He doesn't know why the other pirates are acting so strangely, but Zelda will be able to clear this whole mess up, in fact here she comes, dressed in her normal pirate attire Wind's accustomed to seeing.

"ZELDA! Goddesses, am I glad to see you! I don't understand what kinda trick the guys are trying to play on me, but this isn’t the time! My friends - they're all heroes of courage like me and we could really use your help to -" The words come so quickly from Wind's mouth that Zelda barely has time to look disgusted. 

"How hard did you exactly hit this guy?" She asks while looking to Nudge then back to Wind with a smirk.

"Wha - I'm serious! This is urgent, Zelda -!"

"- Who?" She places her hands on her hips, generally seemingly confused which makes Wind's blood run cold, but not as much as it does when another voice speaks.

"Oi, what's the ruckus out here, eh!? I thought I told ya' lot to keep it down - Oh. What do we have here, umm?" The doors to the Captain's cabin burst open, out walking a figure dressed head-to-toe in a bright red uniform with a large black, white, and magenta feather sticking out from their hat.

"Captain," Zelda immediately backs off from Wind, "These guys were just caught after trying to rush our ship."

"No, that’s not what we -!"

"- Little thieves. 'thought they could just follow us here and steal our treasure!" The pirates hiss together, although you take more time to look over the boy in front of you along with his companions.

"You all look familiar…" Your statement - as disinterested as it sounds - almost gives Wind hope. Almost, "Lock 'em up in the cellar where I won't have to listen to their annoying bitching. Gonzo, set a course for the Forsaken Fortress. I think Ganondorf would like to meet these boys. Tetra, you stick with me."

"YES, CAPTAIN!" An assortment of shouts follow, both from the pirates who follow your every order loyally and the heroes who express their dismay. Wind, however, can only stare in complete disbelief and betrayal as you look back at him once more, your eyes dark from underneath your hat's shadow which is a sharp contrast to the usual warmth that he knows you for. 

Wild lives with a lot of heavy regrets weighing him down, perhaps the most unspoken being his missed chance at ever telling you his true feelings. You were an ever-so-dear friend to him before the Calamity - someone who never expected the impossible from him and always offered a shoulder to lean on should he need one. He loved you quite a bit; something he remembered almost as soon as he remembered you. He has often visited your grave, replaying past events in his head while suffocating in his own guilt from not having protected you. He has sometimes begged the Goddess to let him see you again, even if just to apologize, but this isn’t what he had in mind - far from it…

Wild’s version of Hyrule is chaotic and messy; a land that thrives off of quiet hope and the shattered remnants of a once mighty kingdom. Zelda has mentioned the theory before: that like Hyrule, Wild needed to become something else - something different and unruly in nature because if you can’t beat it, then join it. 

With that said, he’s accustomed to using a lack of forethought, at least in any way comparable to his past self (which is what he tells himself, anyway). As far as he knows, before the Calamity, he was as straight-laced as they come, always concerning himself with his public image and focused on never letting anyone down. He’s nothing like that now, often running into danger head first with messy hair and a blaze of fire following his trail. You would think after the amount of concussions and scars he’s gained, he would’ve long learned his lesson, but alas, he raced through this dungeon with little worry as he’s done many others because his confidence - or perhaps his dull wit - has once again outweighed any common sense. 

Now this is the price he must pay for his own ignorance: a nightmare reanimated before him as it taunts and tortures his inner conscience…and all he can do is accept this horrid punishment in frozen terror as you stalk across the room towards him.

When he raced ahead of the others and turned the key, he expected to be greeted with the typical dungeon boss - an overgrown bokoblin or fiery wizard. He didn’t expect it to be you, crumbled on the ground with gloom affecting your entire body. He didn’t expect for you to react so harshly to his presence, throwing him across the room with a blast of magic when he tried to reach your side, desperate to know how you’re alive and if you’re okay.

You look as angry as you have every right to be, your face curled into a snarl as you come closer, eyes narrowed in an orange glow and a sword in your hand…yet Wild could do nothing but let his knees buckle from underneath himself and dig his nails into his scalp as he asks himself over and over again how this is possible. How are you here? How are you alive? How were you affected and how does he fix you? …He can’t, though. He let you down then and has no idea how to save you now despite having been granted the gift of your presence again - the very thing he’s been begging for.

“I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry!” He cries, not sure if it’s for you or himself as he sobs your name with the same heartache he would over your grave, “I’msorry! I’msorry!”

“IT’S AN ILLUSION, WILD! IT’S NOT THEM!” Someone shouts from behind - someone who he’d usually easily recognize as Twilight yet his mind is in too much of a rush to even listen to his concerned friend’s words, let alone care about his identity. 

Wild can only think of his final moments with you. The day you ‘casually’ told him about plans to try a new restaurant in Castle Town and how you were looking for someone to join you. Foolishly - ever so foolishly - he asked if your sister wouldn’t go, generally confused that you, someone so kind and loved, would have trouble finding a willing companion for any aspect of your life. 

Bashfully, you agreed to ask her, and that was it. You walked off, leaving the poor hero to wonder why you looked so dejected and heartbroken. The next time he’d see you was a mere picture an old woman showed him, curious if you happened to be the one he ran into town desperately searching for. The woman - your niece, as it would turn out - confirmed his worst fears, explaining that while you had survived the initial attack during the Calamity, you like many others soon succumbed to an illness Purah now theorizes to have been a result of close contact with gloom. 

Wild can only imagine your final moments, poisoned by gloom and betrayal much like this other version of you is. If only he had done his job properly, you would have never felt such pain. You, like your sister, would have grown old and lived peacefully as you deserved. He, himself, wouldn’t have to forever live with this guilt he bears from your death - guilt that tries convincing him it would’ve been better if Twilight hadn’t pulled him away from the danger, instead allowing you - even if not truly you - to get some sort of revenge for his mistakes. 

[s10127470]

Danny Phantom vs. Hazbin Hotel: Afterlife Designs

Happy Halloween folks!

This is my first time doing a special post for a holiday.

And for today, I wanted to have this discussion about a topic I had with some friends.

Specifically about two animated shows that both focus on an afterlife.

A poorly-defined and explained afterlife.....

Those two shows are none other than Danny Phantom and Hazbin Hotel.

However, one is able to get more across about that afterlife simply through its character design, while the other doesn't.

And if you haven't guessed already, it's the former.

But before we discuss how DP is able to get across more about its world simply through its character design (along with just having far better ones than Hazbin), first we need to talk about why both these shows have poorly-defined afterlives.

Danny Phantom’s was the result of conflicting visions.

Those being between the show’s infamous creator Butch Hartman, and its main producer and developer Steve Marmel.

Butch wanted the series to be relatively episodic and comedic, while Steve wanted it to be a little more darker and put more emphasis on story and world-building.

This resulted in Steve, along with most of the Season 1 and 2 crew, to leave the show.

There’s also the fact that Nickelodeon didn’t want them to mention the obvious, hence why despite the show being about ghosts, there was hardly ever any mentions of death in general.

And this wouldn’t be the last time they’ve done something like this.

Fellow Nicktoon, Avatar: The Last Airbender, famously killed off the character Jet, who was a one-off character in Book One before becoming a major character in Book Two.

When making his death scene in the episode “Lake Laogai”, Nickelodeon wanted the crew to make this scene more ambiguous.

Which the crew themselves would go on make fun of in the penultimate episode of the series, “The Ember Island Players”.

In the case of Hazbin Hotel, this can be all blamed on VivziePop.

Viz is famous for not exactly being that good at storytelling.

And this is especially the case when it comes to world-building.

She has a bad habit of revealing major details about the world in her chats and streams, and then never bothering to actually implement them into the show.

And when she eventually does implement those details (whenever that'll be), who knows if she'll even keep those details intact.

But with that out of the way, let's talk about the actual character designs.

Color Scheme:

Color schemes are crucial for character design because they directly influence how viewers perceive a character, conveying their personality, mood, and even their role in a story.

The ghosts of Danny Phantom and the sinners of Hazbin Hotel have a primary color: Green and red.

Largely thanks to the realms they inhabit: The Ghost Zone and Hell.

The sinners of Hazbin have been heavily criticized for their heavy use of red in their designs, and the fact that it's prevalent with many of the characters, can make looking at them a bit tiresome.

But the ghosts don't have that problem....

While their primary color is green, if you notice, the amount of green each ghosts has tends to vary.

Some have green eyes like Penelope Spectra, Ember McClain, The Fright Knight, Johnny 13, Walker and even the titular Danny himself.

Some have green hair like Kitty.

Some have green eyes and hair like Skulker and Youngblood.

Or in the case of The Dragon Ghost, scales.

Some have green skin like The Lunch Lady and Technus.

Hell, some don't even have any green like Vlad Plasmius, Sidney Poindexter and The Box Ghost.

Ghosts also have other colors to help balance out of the green.

Skulker for example is primarily made up of gray and black, with a little bit of blue and the aforementioned green.

Another thing that makes the green works is that it's shown to be part of the ghosts' physiology.

While you could argue that this applies to the sinners as well, since they have red in their eyes and hair, but look at these background characters.

There's hardly any red on them.

So this only really applies to the main ones.

(And also yes, just like everyone else, I do agree these guys have far better designs than the main cast).

Body Types:

If you know Viv, you'd know that one of her biggest criticism is her lack of body diversity.

Her characters are infamous for being INSANELY skinny.

Sure you'll get some characters like Adam, Verosika Mayday and Vortex, but they're the expectations.

Actually now I think about it, I think Helluva Boss has more diversity in body types present.

Most of the secondary characters and even I.M.P. themselves have differing body types from each other.

But the ghosts....

Actually, scratch that....

EVERYONE in Danny Phantom have unique and differing body types from each other.

The Danny Phantom characters would definitely pass The Silhouette Test.

The Hazbin characters would barely pass.

Outfits:

A character's outfit can really go a long way.

As it can tell you what a character is like by just looking at them.

Each of the main ghosts get this down right.

Even if you haven't watched Danny Phantom, one glance at each of these guys have already tell you what their deal is.

Skulker is a high-tech hunter.

Sidney Poindexter is a nerd.

Ember is a rockstar.

Johnny is a biker.

Technus is a technological genius.

Desiree is a genie.

Walker is a prison warden.

And The Box Ghost is a total loser.

But if someone who hadn't watched Hazbin Hotel looked at the characters, I'd highly doubt they would be able to get a read on what their deal is.

Maybe except for Charlie and Husk.

There's also the fact that a good chunk of the main cast causally wear formal attire.

Which doesn't make them stand out from each other that much.

Some of the ghosts' attire also give hints to when they lived/died.

Desiree lived during The Ottoman Empire.

The Dragon Ghost lived during The Middle Ages.

The Lunch Lady and Sidney lived during the 1950s.

Johnny and Kitty lived during the 1970s.

And Ember lived during the late-1990s/early-2000s.

The sinners unfortunately lack that.

They don't really have anything that would hint or allude when and where they lived or died.

Physical Traits, Powers and Biology:

One small but strong detail that really makes and breaks the ghosts and sinners are their physical appearances.

While this does get a little muddled for Danny Phantom come Season 2, there is a pretty solid explanation for it.

Throughout Season 1, the major ghosts we're introduced to were either humanoid or animalistic in their physical appearances.

This was a small but subtle detail to imply that the ghosts were, well, the spirits of humans and animals that were once among the living.

However, everything changed with the introduction of Clockwork, the master of all time.

This was quite strange, since he was a ghost.

This only got stranger with the introductions of ghosts like Frostbite and Undergrowth, who despite being ghosts, were notably more monstrous than the ones introduced in Season 1.

However, I think having ghosts there are just monsters or Eldritch-like entities is actually pretty cool.

It really helps makes The Ghost Zone feel like it's own universe and not have it completely be connected to Earth.

Plus, this was actually kinda intended from the beginning.

In the pitch bible for Danny Phantom, The Ghost Zone (originally called The Unreal and eventually Ghost World) was not only suppose to be an afterlife, but also a realm of fantasy, being home to monsters, Eldritch beings, and even mythological creatures.

It seems that for Season 3, Butch decided to go back to that concept.

Mostly like to continue avoiding having to state the obvious.

And given that he would go on record years later to say that ALL of the ghosts of The Ghost Zone were just monsters, I can believe that.

The best showcase of this is in the episode, "Boxed-Up Fury".

In that episode, Danny seeks the help of the actual mythical Pandora, who had her legendary box stolen by Box Ghost, who used it so that could FINALLY be taken seriously by everyone.

Along the way, he faces off against a wide array of monsters from Greek mythology.

These included a hydra, a gorgon, a centaur, a minotaur, and a cyclops.

I think the reason why people took a problem with many of the new ghosts was because the show itself never really explained which ghosts were the souls of the dead and which ghosts were just monsters.

As for the sinners, they're explicit said to be a sub-species of demons that were once humans but died and were sent to Hell.

But with that being considered.....would you be able to see that by just looking at them?

Due to how monstrous and animalistic they look, it's hard to see the sinners as being the living embodiments of once-living humans.

Made even worse with the fact that none of them have any canon backstories to possibly explain their appearances.

Or at least any that have been shown IN THE ACTUAL SHOW.

I know Danny Phantom has a similar problem, but remember, they were being restricted by a creator and a network that were too cowardly to address the damn obvious.

What's Hazbin's excuse?

Hell (heh heh), the sinners could've just easily been regular demons and it wouldn't make much of a difference.

Another thing to note about the ghosts and sinners are their biology.

The ghosts are able to fly, turn invisible, become intangible, immortality, and possess superhuman physicality.

Plus most of them to possess some kind of special ability.

Like Skulker and his ecto-skeleton with a variety of weapons, Desiree and her wish granting, and Johnny 13 and his Shadow that causes bad luck.

The sinners are......kinda lacking in this regard.

They have special abilities (albeit not as flashy or impressive as the ghosts), a few have the ability to transform into larger and stronger forms, and have animalistic tendencies.

And while we're on the topic of biology, we need to address the demon elephant in the room.....

As I just mentioned earlier, the ghosts are immortal, since they're dead.

And with the fact that the sinners are the souls of the dead, you would think they would be immortal too.

But if you've watched the show, then you'd know that isn't the case at all.

Although sinners can't age (dead and all), they can be killed via the use of the angelic weapons.

Who thought this was a good idea?

Just like Mantis said, this makes no sense!

Plus it's totally redundant with the fact that the sinners are already DEAD!

I know some people are gonna bring up Coco, which had The Final Death.

But there, it made sense.

Those living in The Land of the Dead would fade into oblivion after getting forgotten by everyone in the human world.

But in Hazbin, what's their excuse?!

And don't even get me started on how Sir Pentious dies and ends up going to Heaven.....

Also before we move on, I did wanted to bring up a few cool things about the biology of the ghosts.

In the TV movie, "The Ultimate Enemy", we find out that....

-Although ghosts can't die, they can still age, albeit slower than humans.

-Even though they can't die, ghosts can still be badly injured. As we see with Future Ember (who had her vocal chords destroyed) and Johnny (who became a paraplegic).

-Ghosts can even reproduce, with the reveal of Box Lunch, the daughter of The Lunch Lady and The Box Ghost.

As for the sinners.....

They can't age, but they can still die (once again, makes no sense).

And as far as we know, they can't reproduce.....

Which is for the better because the last thing I need to see is Angel Dust being able to have kids.

Anyway, that's all I have for now.

I wanted to do something special for Halloween.

Let me know what you guys think about this post.

And also, let me know if there's anything I missed, because I feel like I missed something in this post.

But until next time.....

[gorae]

elevator music

pairing — park jihoon x gn!reader

tags — fluff, comedy, tiiiny bit suggestive (mentions of a previous one night stand), inspired by that one scene from grey's anatomy, 2.2k words (whew), unedited

it's a thursday night.

a thursday night. and your lovely friend, hyunsuk, whom you love so dearly, has decided that it would be the perfect time to drag you along to his friend's party.

"how do i look?"

"good."

"you're not even looking at me."

you make a point of turning around just to glare at hyunsuk. he strikes a dramatic pose despite your hostility. looking like a colorful glittery unicorn threw up on him, hyunsuk always makes anything he wears look good, even if it were a plastic bag.

"you look good, hyunsuk," you say with a flat tone and a flat expression to go along with it.

"oh, cheer up, your paper isn't due for another week." originally resting on the tip of his nose, hyunsuk puts his pink glasses on top of his head. you have no clue as to why he would bring sunglasses to an indoor party. you can imagine his response would be along the lines of, "because fashion, duh," so you don't bother to ask.

"we have class tomorrow. an 8 a.m. class," you say pointedly.

hyunsuk gasps dramatically, as if surprised by your sentiment. "oh, calm down. it's a friend's birthday party. we have to go."

"it's your friend's birthday party. we don't have to go. you do."

hyunsuk narrows his eyes at you. "what?" you shrug. "i'm right."

hyunsuk shakes his head. "i only dragged you along because you were so hung up on that guy you had a one night stand with."

you roll your eyes. "i wasn't hung up on him."

"say that to my empty tub of ice cream." he deadpans.

hyunsuk grins victoriously when you remain quiet, unable to admit the truth behind his words.

it has been months since it happened. you couldn't seem to get him out of your mind after, resulting in multiple failed blind dates and plenty of disappointment. you refuse to reminisce any further. he wasn't even anything special, really. or so you tell yourself.

hyunsuk sighs. there's a change in his demeanor when he realizes you were pondering because of his retort. "listen, it was ages ago. maybe it's time you realize you're never gonna find him and move on."

you don't have time to reply as the elevator doors open. hyunsuk pulls you by the hand to approach the front door. even with it closed, you could hear the music clearly. for a second you wonder if hyunsuk's friend paid their neighbors off in advance just in case they filed a noise complaint.

hyunsuk doesn't bother to knock, immediately opening the door as if the apartment were his, a habit of his you have yet to come to terms with. it seems easy for him to navigate through the rooms, too, like he's been here a lot more often than you think. with you closely following behind, he snakes through the crowds in search of his friend.

you look around as you follow hyunsuk. it's odd how familiar you found this apartment layout. the living room, the kitchen next to it, the narrow balcony. you shrug it off; you have been to this particular building a couple times before since you do have a few friends residing here.

"happy birthday, bro!" you hear hyunsuk yell over the loud music.

pausing from scanning the area, your eyes land on the figure hyunsuk is currently dapping up. and they widen in realization when you get a good look at him.

it was none other than park jihoon. the guy you had a one night stand with. the round eyes, the curve of his nose, the pout of his lips—you could make his features out even with the obscure lighting, yet there is no telling if he recognizes you.

"jihoon, this is my friend." hyunsuk motions to you. "y/n."

"hi, nice to meet you." you hold out a hand. there's a slight tremor in your fingers, and you pray neither he nor hyunsuk don't notice.

he takes your hand and firmly shakes it. you're quick to pull away. "nice to meet you, too. i'm jihoon."

you give him a stiff nod. "happy birthday... jihoon."

you eye hyunsuk, who immediately turns back to jihoon to continue talking. unsurprisingly—thankfully—he is completely oblivious to the way you're acting. "i- um. i need to take this call," you point to your phone. you almost slapped a hand on your forehead at the dumb excuse. if it weren't for the loud music...

without waiting for their response, you hurriedly excuse yourself, leaving the two to themselves. you find yourself making your way to the balcony, letting out a huge sigh of relief when there's no one there.

your head immediately goes back to the sight of jihoon standing before your very eyes. you still can't believe it—the man you've been mulling over for an abnormally long time, the one you thought you'd never meet again, standing right before you.

"y/n."

you whip your head around. shit. shit, shit, shit, shit- "jihoon." you laugh awkwardly, trying to appear casual. "hi."

the balcony was just as dark as inside his apartment, but the lights from the buildings across you reflected on his eyes. you swear you catch a flicker of... something, in his eyes. you're not sure what it is. does he remember? did hyunsuk mention anything? you force a smile, hoping your face doesn't betray you.

"so... you're a friend of hyunsuk's?" he asks. he rests the palms of his hand on the railing while his head is turned to keep eye contact between him and you. he seems too nonchalant, his tone too guarded. there's something off about him, and you can't put your finger on why.

"huh?" your mind races to gather your thoughts; the sudden tension so, so palpable between the two of you. "yeah," you manage to say.

"right." jihoon nods slowly, eyes briefly scanning the city skyline beyond the balcony. the air between you crackles with awkward silence as you pray to the gods above to make hyunsuk come and intervene at this very moment. "i was wondering..." he starts tentatively, words trailing into silence.

you hold your breath, waiting for him to continue. his eyes are staring deeply into yours, but your movements are frozen in place.

jihoon shakes his head slightly. "nevermind."

the tension lingers, thickening the air around you both. the music from inside feels distant, like it's kilometers away from you. you let the silence continue despite its awkwardness.

"you want a drink?" jihoon finally breaks the silence, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

you had to stop yourself from releasing a relieved sigh. glancing at his cup, you ask, "is that beer?"

"no," chuckling, he holds the cup closer to you. "it's just juice. you hate beer. right?"

as you stand there, realization dawns on you. "you remember." your voice wavers slightly.

another moment of silence stretches between you, with the both of you staring at each other. you, blankly, while he, with a mischievous glint.

he remembers.

your cheeks immediately burn as your mind starts to race at record speed. did he remember parts of it? or all of it? you shiver at the thought, unable to keep your thoughts from spiraling. maybe he just remembers parts of it, and not all the small, steamy details. maybe he only remembers the broad strokes, and not the way your breath hitched when he kissed your neck. or the way his hands explored every inch of your skin. your thoughts provide little solace, and you feel your cheeks burn hotter.

"stop staring at me like that." you blurt out, unable to bear the intensity of his gaze while memories of the godforsaken night start rushing in.

"like what?" he tilts his head, a teasing smile playing on his lips.

"like that!" you throw your hands up exasperatedly. "like, like you've seen me naked!"

that's it. you've shot yourself in the foot. as if it were possible, more heat rushed to your cheeks as he chuckled at your stupid exclamation.

"you know what i mean!" you added quickly. you turn your face away, unable to handle the embarrassment. you make a wish for the ground to open up and swallow you right then.

jihoon's phone dings, breaking the moment. you let out a sigh of relief (out loud this time). he glances at it briefly before staring back at you, the same playful glint still in his eyes. "you wanna come get the pizza delivery with me?"

you raise an eyebrow, skeptical. "is this some sneaky way to try to get me in your bed again?" you mutter under your breath.

lucky for you, he heard you loud and clear. he starts inching closer to you, his face only a breath away. you can feel his hot breath fanning your skin, and it sends shivers down your spine. you gulp.

"why, you miss me?" he breathes out.

"i-" your words get stuck in your throat, heartbeat racing in your ears.

he finally breaks the tension by pulling away, laughing softly. "come on."

he motions for you to follow him, and you mindlessly start trailing behind him like a lost puppy. your mind is still wandering, not noticing how he's opening the doors for you and navigating through the crowd with his hand on your waist. the music from the party a distant buzz in your ears as you try to ground yourself.

you still can't believe it. one moment you were hung up about the guy you had a one night stand with, replaying every detail in your mind every day since like a broken cassette tape, and the next you are face to face with him. you are currently at his birthday party and you're fetching his pizza delivery with him. and most importantly, he remembers.

the way he looks at you, it all makes sense now. it was familiarity in his eyes all along. and maybe a hint of something else that you're still not quite sure what yet.

"aren't people gonna notice that you're gone?" you ask, your voice trembling slightly. you cough in attempt to mask it.

jihoon presses the button for the elevator. "nah." his hands are in his pockets as you wait for the elevator, exuding nonchalance as he brushes his hair back.

as you both step in, you are immediately greeted with the bossa nova groove of the elevator music. the soft, almost comical tune fills the elevator as both of you steal glances at each other, one turning away just as the other turns to look at them.

the doors open with a ding, and jihoon lets you step out first. both of you walk to the receptionist counter where the pizza delivery guy is waiting. after a tip and a quick thank you, you both head back to the elevator with the pizza boxes in hand.

"let me hold it," jihoon offers, reaching for the pizza box.

"no, it's fi-" jihoon stares deeply into your eyes, and you don't even realize that he has snatched the pizza boxes right out of your hands. "stop staring at me like that."

his eyes are fully trained on your lips now. "no, it's just- you smudged your lipstick. can i...?"

he takes your silence as approval. he reaches out gently, thumb brushing against the corner of your lip. you freeze, breath hitching as he carefully fixes your lipstick.

you stand still, frozen as his touch lingers on your skin. before you could process what was happening, he has shifted the pizza boxes to one hand, tilted your head up, and started leaning in. your lips meet in a soft, tentative kiss that deepens almost immediately. your entire body feels electric and your mind starts short-circuiting while your stomach somersaults over and over again. everything feels so intense; your skin feels like it's been lit by fire just with the single brush of his hand against your face. it feels so right.

as jihoon begins to pull away, you instinctively lean in for another, causing your noses to bump awkwardly. there's a pause before the two of you laugh. "so you do miss me," jihoon teases, eyes twinkling with amusement.

"shut up," you reply. you pretend to be annoyed, but the smile on your lips betray you.

he leans in again, kissing you like a man starved. a ding signifies the elevator doors opening, and both of you pull away abruptly.

"there's my pizza!"

there hyunsuk stood, grinning ear to ear. he rushes to retrieve the pizza from jihoon. to none of your surprise, he doesn't notice your smudged lipstick and jihoon's messy hair. too immersed in his own world, he skips happily back to jihoon's apartment with the pizza boxes, which earns a few chuckles from the both of you.

you and jihoon look at each other. the both of you share a knowing look, and this time, you let a genuine smile spread across your face. the unspoken understanding of what just happened lingers between you.

"so..." jihoon trails off.

"so..?"

jihoon smirks. "stay over?"

you laugh, catching how jihoon's smirk turns into a genuine smile at the sound of it. "okay."

[yellowocaballero]

hi!! loved New Wave & its Jason addition, was wondering if you have any Opinions about the weird characterization of Jason in the comics/fandom?

Oh Jesus. You are talking to a certified fanon Batfam hater jkaljdsfkljsdf. In some senses, yes I do.

I see more 'good or at least interesting' depictions of Jason than I do pretty much any other Batfam character. A lot of the best Batfam fic has an extremely strong Jason POV. From a group dynamics perspective, having a Jason is important. Jason is important: his death irrevocably altered Batman as a series, marked a serious turning point in kid sidekicks and comics as a whole, and created a few pretty good storylines.

It's hard to say 'what's the real Jason characterization', because he constantly cross-contaminates himself. Jason's character is little more than the lens through which he's viewed, and what comes afterwards. Pre-Crisis Jason is indistinguishable from Dick. Post-Crisis Jason isn't that different either, until they decided to kill him, at which point they very quickly gave him all of his character traits we know him for today. Retrospectives on Jason for twenty years were of both this pre-post-humorous angry/impulsive version and The Dead Kid nostalgia, and now they're colored by his Red Hood anger and 'glory days' nostalgia. And then we've had the Batfam-ization of Batman comics and none of that matters anyway, because they're blorbos now.

@lazuliquetzal has remarked several times that the real problem with Red Hood is that you can use him for drama, like, once or twice - that he's a very good foil character for one or two very specific storylines. I agree. I think further usage of the RH as a villain should be separated from the Batfam, since you can't reconcile his pro-killing stance with the Batfam non-killing stance. Give him a different story if you want, but I think it's hard to slot the actual Red Hood character back into the Batfam. Not even sure that you should.

I think the main thing for me is that I don't understand why the 'good end' is always 'Bring Jason Home!' - why reconciliation is mandatory, why what we want is him moving back into the manor and having family dinners. Why. He's 19. Let him live by himself in his shitty apartment and smoke weed and shittalk his dad. He's an adult, he doesn't have to talk to any of you if he doesn't want to. He really doesn't want to. There is more than one way for a family to function, and it doesn't have to look like family dinners.

Regarding fic: obviously the softening and defanging is boring. There's an entire genre of stories where 'Jason hates Tim until he actuall meets him, at which point he's blasted by Tim's #woobie and starts taking care of him", but in the '10s the biggest conflict with Jason is that he irrationally hates a fourteen year old who did nothing wrong completely to the point where he keeps on trying to kill him. For a decade he was just melodramatic yelling. I think people are more interested in writing cute dynamics than they are characters, and Jason is forced into the sympathetic family dynamic as a result. Comics now do this too, because, fandomization,

Young Jason stories are also entirely whump, which is obviously boring. I've mentioned this before, but a big part of my thoughts behind the NW!Jason fic are just that there are a lot of 'Jason comes to the manor' fics, and in very little of them do Jason and Bruce actually like each other. It's pure whump and family bonding over any actual interest in the characters. Thing about whump is just - put in literally any character there, it doesn't matter. Pick anyone. Who cares.

This is all ignoring the number one biggest thing for me, which is: the fandom is obsessed with Jason, and I am sick of Jason, it is all Jason. Even Tim is worse off in comparison, because he gets moe blob'd so Jason can take care of him. Go write the women. Seriously. Jason's a whump magnet and it's exhausting, go write Cass Cain having a character arc.

TL;DR: Batfam fanfic only cares about cute brotherly fluff and whump and it is so fucking bad, man.

[melatonin-melanin]

the face of alternative fashion tends to be white. how come?

whenever you go to look up a certain aesthetic or fashion, it may not register that the majority (or sometimes all) of photos that appear in the searches are people with pale skin. it makes sense not to think too much about it; after all, you’re just looking for the average look of the style, right? unfortunately, this has more implications than it might first seem.

it raises the question: where are the people with darker skin in these communities? i mean, it’s not as if they’re nonexistent. if you specified your search by typing in something like “black goth” or “black lolita,” you’d get plenty of results showing exactly what you’re looking for. well, that answers that question! except… now you have to wonder: why do almost none of these people show up when looking up most styles in the first place?

let’s go back to what i said earlier. most people, when searching for alternative fashion styles, aim for the average look of the aesthetic. what isn’t really acknowledged is that for many people, often subconsciously, being lighter skinned is part of that average look. in other words, it’s as if whiteness is the default, and this is reflected not only in search engines, but in the general media. on one hand, there’s a much higher chance for an alt white person to gain mass popularity than any alt person of color. on the other hand, the people of color that do gain a large following often face a higher risk of harassment and discrimination for… dressing how they like? enjoying different genres of music? that’s not even mentioning the risk of being ostracized from general poc communities for these same reasons.

but why must it be this way? the answer is that it doesn’t have to be! i feel that the best way to start combating these problems as things are right now is to start with deconstructing biases and stereotypes of different groups of people, especially ethnic groups. there is no reason why anyone should feel confined to specific ways of dressing just because of their race, ethnicity, skin color, etc. fashion is an art form for everyone, and we can work towards acknowledging, highlighting, and simply respecting more people from all walks of life with the little things we say and do. it just takes time and effort from all of us!

[bluebunnysart]

Fanart of my own fanfiction (Chimera Teto x Android Miku)

Good news! When I woke up and looked at my art again today, I liked it, so here's the uncolored version! I trust you tumblr people, so here you go! You may view. This technically means I've drawn UTAU Teto (here) and SynthV Teto, but I really want to color this and take my time doing so, so here are the lines before it turns into something else hahaha 😂😂😂 Read More for the stuff I wanted to write last night but was too tired to (also the art time lapse)

I showed like two WIPs of different ideas on Twitter but none of them were this LOL (just goes to show how much I wanna draw and see of these two specifically) but the reason I decided to go with this is 'cuz that fanfic I wrote in like one day really got me excited and it made me really want to draw them as I was imagining more stuff about them. Here I'll talk about what I had in mind

I love chimera Teto, especially her majestic wings, and what I drew here is basically inspired by that! Teto's basically the only "living, sentient" thing around Miku so far (I dunno how to approach adding more creatures just yet), which makes Miku extra interested in her. But basically Miku likes Teto's wings and tail too and is very fascinated by them.

I had an idea where Miku is just holding or playing with Teto's tail out of nowhere and complimenting the heck out of her, and that was condensed into this piece. It was too crowded on Miku's side to have Teto's tail there as well, but the reason Teto's embarrassed (tsundere is nice, aint it xD) is 'cuz Miku is indeed praising the heck out of her. Calling her cute and saying how cool her wings are and whatnot.

The dialogue kinda goes like, "Your wings are so cool! And I really like how expressive your tail is! I wonder what I would do with a tail. It's so cute! Actually, now that I think about it, all of you is really cute!!" (Teto, embarrassed: "Stop talking now.") wwww

Miku does have a kinda tail actually! It's the chain on top of her skirt. As an android, I was thinking it works as sort of a battery plug or USB or something. I can show off more of that later (since it's really small here lol) but she can use it to receive electricity and recharge herself, I guess~. (Note to self: make it bigger?)

I haven't shown off much of my art style, but most (normal) characters usually don't have pupils. (See: this Teto, who's a living breathing creature.) As a result, I decided to give Miku pupils (kinda robot-like) to make her seem like more of a robot. She also wears the thing (headphones) over her ears, of course, which I can also use to make her seem more robot-like. There's no green flashing of code in her eyes right now but I might draw that sometime too, after my loads of other ideas...

Teto's wings aren't fragile. They're probably firm, hard, and could even be scaly/rough (up to my own whims or the reader's own preference). Her letting Miku touch her (wings) is probably a huge display of trust/confidence. Teto's wings are strong enough to carry her far distances and even allow her to fly in bad weather, I think. It's up to Teto herself how much energy/desire she has to do things like that though.

This is mentioned in the fic too, but Teto probably folds her wings a lot so they don't get in the way. She's kinda like a bird. I think her silhouette against the sun or moon, with full wingspan, is probably majestic (I'm imagining the Batman symbol for some reason lol). I know some people color Teto's wings as purple, but I specified black in my fic to match her tail. ^^

In order for her wings to breathe, there are probably holes in the back of her outfit to accommodate them, but they're only big enough for the wings (ellipses/ovals probably): she either tears/cuts holes into the shirts she wears for her wings or they already fit her wings so there's no problem. I wonder if Teto made her UTAU outfit herself in this setting. xD (A girl has to pass the time SOMEHOW plus she's probably at least a little bit handy when it comes to clothes and stuff (survival).)

If, while I'm coloring, I need to make adjustments to the seating and lineart and all that, I will, but I figured I'd show off what made me stay up 'til 5 AM last night and then get embarrassed to post 'cuz I thought I wasn't finished yet. I woke up and I liked it, so I'm just gonna put it in this here blog. c:

I don't know how to color, so coloring will be a trip 😂