#I am plagued with visions

[fukcnoplease]

Danny is done. He is tired. He is dead. He deserves a sweet treat and to hibernate under fifteen weighted blankets for nine years.

Instead he is standing in the Gotham City cross country bus station with a dead phone and no sweet treats. He had had the misfortune of having avid ghost hunters as parents, who had demanded he help them with their latest invention instead of joining his friends on a fancy bus hired by Casper High to take them on a multiday, multicollege trip. Apparently they had made an agreement with the school that as long as he met the school trip in one of the cities and still paid for the whole trip, he could still take part and at least catch the school bus home.

Of course, exhausted after helping his parents, catching up on homework, and taking out some ghosts Danny ended up falling asleep on his bus. Now he was standing alone, cold, half-dead, in Gotham City’s main bus center with a dufflebag of clothes and backpack of ghost supplies his parents forced on him.

The school trip was, thankfully, passing through Gotham as one of the universities but they had multiple cities to hit before they got to Gotham. According to the itinerary it would take at least five days for them to hit Gotham and even then theyd be arriving late in the evening.

Danny had to find a place to stay for five nights and something to do for five days. Thankfully, Gotham city is seeped in ectoplasm which means its full of ghosts. Ghost who are more than happy to help a lost boy find a place to stay.

Danny chats with some ghosts, being pointed this way and that before he finds a nice old man dress in a fine suit with an unfortunate gunshot wound to his chest. The man offers to lead Danny to an excellent and cheap place to stay and Danny… is too tired to care honestly. He follows the ghost across the city, hails a taxi, repeats the address the ghost gives him, missing the taxi drivers shocked stare, and falls asleep in the taxi.

He is woken up by gentle taps on the glass by an older looking man and gives a half asleep mumbled thanks to the taxi driver as the old man takes his bags inside. Even in his tired state Danny has the sense to offer to carry his own bags but is politely and sternly refused by a british accent which is enough to wake him up.

Standing in the entrance way of a luxury… hotel? It doesnt seem to have a reception, though, and the decorations feel far to personalized. He glances around to find the helpful ghost staring wistfully at one of the larger portraits. A family of three, a beautiful woman with shoulder length dark curls, a young boy with dark hair and a bright smile, and the face of the kindly ghost.

The butler(?!) calls for Danny to keep up and he rushes to catch up, more out of instinct than sense. The ghost wanders casually after them, pausing to admire artwork every now and again.

The butler drops Danny’s bags in what seems to be a guest room, or maybe this really was just an incredibly fancy hotel, the room had its own ensuite, desk, and empty closet and chest of drawers. Honestly Danny couldnt even hazard a guess anymore.

The butler(manager?) informed him that breakfast was at 8 am sharp every morning and dinner was 6 pm sharp every evening. Danny gave a dazed nod which was apparently all the older man needed before he vanished back into the hallway. Almost as quickly as the ghost did after giving Danny one last cheeky grin.

Queue Danny being weirdly introduced to the Batfam and doing his best to avoid the adoption papers at all costs while also trying NOT to be eldritch and strange around this also eldritch and strange family.

[nomsfaultau]

I once had a dream where Tommyinnit was trying to come up with an absurd political take for the bit, but didn’t want to say something actually controversial because he was streaming. So his political hot take was this:

16 year olds should be allowed to vote. In fact, so should 10 year olds, and 2 year olds. The moment they’re out of the womb they need to be in the voting room. It’s not a REAL democracy unless everyone gets a vote. What do you MEAN the ballot is covered in crayon scribbles? Are you saying you don’t listen to the voice of the people? Fascist.

[lunar-wandering]

I love seeing u post bc every time it’s like wow. I’ve never seen someone say smth about these guys that’s more Correct.

HELP???HDSKFJSLDKJFS

[haikyuuloser21]

me: avoids writing for academic purposes at quite literally all costs, have failed classes because i straight up don't do writing assignments

also me: what if i open a google doc and just write a 100k+ word fic about levi right now

[shnurffle]

sometimes i feel bad about only drawing fanart but these characters keep entering my mind like akria

[mari-lair]

very rushed but it is of utmost importance that you know the researcher is a fan of puns.

[cookie-nom-nom]

A dream

It��s about moral entropy. It’s about being desperate to save the world, to do the right thing, and it’s about the slow dawning horror of realizing you’re being manipulated. Of everything you do only destroying the people you love. It’s about the inability to accept your own fall, clinging onto that pedestal of moral virtue even as it rots from the inside and inevitably crumbles. It’s about thwarting your younger, better self at every turn, dragging them back kicking and screaming as fate rips them into place and snapping at them to shut up because this is what’s good for you, good for everyone. And it’s about the realization that you were lying to the both of you. 

There’s a strange feeling in you, when you look up the man who twisted your ideals and used you to set up the apocalypse. When you know finally you have no delusions left about exactly what he is, exactly what you are. You hate him, you love him, you hate yourself more. 

And he speaks softly, kindly, and cruelly honestly. And he tells you that you’re a rabbit struggling, ensnared. That you could still rip away free, gouges deep in your flesh, but you don’t have to take this last step. But the little rabbit sees the prize on the other end, and so they struggle in further and deeper and allow themselves to die.

And he offers you three items, and you know at once this is your final mission. And he is honest when he says it will destroy you. 

(And it’s not about the objects, was never about the objects, not the rotten apple in his hands nor the rusted keys nor the bent spoon, it was all about what he would do with them, or rather what you would do to yourself with them) 

Because then he offers one last item. And he says this will be the start of your recovery. That you will heal from even this, even if no one else will. He says that you will survive no matter if survival sounds worse than the Hell you deserve. That one day, despite it all, the trauma will begin to knit itself closed.

And you ask for a moment to decide. And he grants it, kindly. And you just fall to your knees weeping, knowing this is all your fault. Knowing how deeply you betrayed everyone, betrayed yourself. Because this? This destruction? This unbecoming of all things? You guided it every step of the process beneath his hand. This is nothing like the world your younger, better self fought for, so far from good and righteous that you don’t even know who you are anymore. 

And I hear this line, so crisp and solid and tangible. A solid epiphany in the midst of the dream self’s despair: No wonder my mother flinches from me every time I reach for her.

But you take one last shuddering you, and wipe your tears and get up. And you accept the items because it’s so, so far past too late. And so you destroy the world.

[saint-lily]

Kristen would later admit in a court deposition that this was one of her burner accounts on Columbian Twitter

[topsonlyybar]

anyway I’m never gonna get over phil staying in the closet for years for dan and then letting dan come out first and on their (implied) behalf. I’m not sure any act of trust/understanding/compassion/love has ever shocked me more.

[delusionalbitchinthehouse]

So I woke up thinking about Phantom blowing Swiss, as one does, and i just-

Phantom's so eager, taking as much of Swiss as he can, choking himself on the multi ghoul while Swiss just runs a hand through his hair, not pushing, not gripping, just idly playing with the black and white strands and grunting praises.

Bonus point if Swiss is, for some reasons, in formal clothes, sitting in one of those leather armchairs that creaks everytime his hips accidentally flex up to meet Phantom's desperate mouth.

Maybe Swiss acts casual and borderline unaffected because he knows it riles Phantom up, until he can't contain himself anymore and just starts fucking the quint's mouth like he might die if he doesn't.

[lagtrain]

do i look like her?

[nomsfaultau]

I had a dream Techno and Tommy were stage fighting for a gaggle of school kids. They were insanely fast, dueling swords flashing and ringing out in sharp notes. Tommy quickly became the face of the match, working over the crowd with such rallying cries as ‘Girls! Girls! Girls!’ and a classic under dog angle, while Techno was very menacing and looming and all together a wonderful heel. The match ended with Techno fully kicking Tommy off stage and then leaping down to plunge his sword into his neck. Okay well almost into his neck, it was just angled to look that way to the audience. Tommy sold beautifully, thrashing until Techno forced the sword deeper and deeper into the wood floor in jerking, halted plunges that left it hilt deep in the ‘dead’ Tommy’s neck. Crowd was absolutely silent on horror.

Techno retrieved his sword and scooped up Tommy to throw him carelessly over a shoulder like a sack of potatoes, clambered back on stage and exited into the wings. The kids howled with boos and hisses, genuinely very upset. Some were crying a little. A little unsettled, Techno jogged back on stage to explain to the kids that it was all play fighting and no one is hurt and Tommy is still alive see??

And Tommy just dangled limply in his arms. “Bruuuuuuh he’s NOT dead! Tommy stop selling they’re crying. Ahh this is what I get preforming for babies…” the crowd kept getting more and more riled as Techno was trying to do damage control on the kids while Tommy was a useless twit who was still playing dead.

Eventually Techno gave up and slumped back towards the exit still carrying Tommy over a shoulder, only for Tommy to shoot a grin at the kids and kick Techno in the back. UPROARIOUS cheering. Annoyed, Techno scruffed him by the neck to dangle helplessly, then turned to the audience and bowed, bobbing Tommy up and down since his feet didn’t reach the ground. And scene.

[304wv66]

friendship ENDED with tarnished, now calico critters are her best friends

(listen... they hang out on my desk together... you must understand my vision.)

[roobiedo]

🎉🚲 THE POPSICLE BIKE IS HERE 🚲🎉

and its featuring all sorts of fun, fruity flavors! freshly picked from the food forests, blended and frozen into a familiar shape, then paired with a fancy floral cone. and all for free? F-YEAH

all the vendor asks for in return is to leave a nice message in the tags for him (or for his pet plant Pothony). so go ahead, choose your favourite!

————————————————

loooong exposition ahead, bear with me ok

when i was a primary school kid (like 7), there was a row of bushes lining the garden outside our classroom. and on them were clusters and clusters of tiny red flowers, bunched together like pre-made bouquets. they're called ixora, locally known as jejarum (needle).

somehow, mini me discovered that if you look real close at the center of each flower, you'll find a little tab in the shape of a sprout (that's the stigma). and if you gently tug on that tab, you'll pull out a flimsy, needle-like stick (that's the style). and at the end of that stick...... was a dollop of liquid gold (it's nectar).

at that age? it felt like hitting the jackpot! my friends and i we were SET. gluttony Gripped us as we descended upon those poor little flowers, sucking up every drop of nectar we could find, leaving a trail of bright red petals in our wake. yet it was never enough. of course it wasn't.

yeah i'm exaggerating but it really did feel like i committed a massacre ok 😭 i don't know that child anymore i've grown!! left their insatiable little shell behind!!!

anyway turns out that secret childhood hack wasn't much of a secret after all. my mum confessed to doing the exact same thing decades ago when she was younger, and a quick internet search shows that apparently its a pretty common bad habit/funny memory shared among people here. rite of passage. doesn't lessen my guilt though!

so here i am, exposing my baby crimes to the world, and holding myself accountable by making ixora-inspired concept art lol. sorry to these cultural icons my bad queens

————————————————

speaking of school, here's another nostalgic memory: the ice cream uncle.

this wasn't just a singular guy, but rather a League of Guys, with one common goal: make a quick buck from oblivious kids who, once again, were enthralled by the power of gluttony's grasp, and would pay anything for a taste of the nectarous after-school treat.

no guilt here though, was worth every cent.

they always had a diverse selection of goods: ice cream in cones, ice cream in cups, classic ice pops on a stick... but once in a while, we get what is essentially the local version of freezer pops. we call them 'ais krim malaysia', and under the burning sun they were a MESS to deal with. if you weren't devouring your icicle within 5 minutes of purchase, you'd be going home with a sticky bag of juice and a stained school uniform. and yet, i've never seen a kid walk away from an ice cream uncle without a smile on their face.

nowadays, ice cream uncles are an endangered species. big name brands and their store empires are chasing local vendors out of their niche. not to mention the hardships they face under increasingly abnormal weather patterns. plus, even if they did make a comeback, there's the issue of all that plastic waste. which brings me to...

————————————————

this concept art i made! (yeah we're finally getting to it!)

once again, i'm partnering 2 very loosely related pieces of my cultural backstory, with a sustainable twist. in my ideal solarpunk city, we're bringing street-side popsicles back into style, and packaging them in biodegradable membranes. in fact, our local favourite seaweed gelatin — agar-agar (the name originated here!) — is already being used for this sort of technology.

the pops also come with a reusable cone in the shape of an ixora flower. this way, we can still keep the tradition of getting a sugar rush from within its petals, without. y'know. stealing the primary food source away from native bugs who depend on it 💀

the umbrella could serve a function too... maybe the buds that make up the ends of its wire frame could glow in the dark? that'd look cool. oh and i did draw a classic motorbike here for the nostalgia factor, but let's pretend its an old model that got modded to run on renewable energy instead!

in terms of fashion... i highlighted parts of the outfits that are ixora inspired, including the shirt and bandana made from batik, a dyeing technique invented in our region. some other solarpunk aspects include a photovoltaic wide-brimmed hat, a layered frankenstein dress, and that... apron-skort thing that i made up on the spot. and that weird shirt. people in this city just like chopping up and swapping fabrics i guess!

so do u guys like pothony c:

[sophiethewitch1]

what if i give up. what if I just write a/b/o for the bats. what if I did that. could anybody stop me. alpha dick who just wants to wrap you in cotton wool. beta tim who will be whatever you need, will physically alter his DNA to be your perfect mate. alpha damian who doesn't care what his assassins think, you're his equal even if you're not the perfect omega. omega jason who became an alpha after his revival, changed at his core to be strong enough to survive what was happening to him. just. ugh. leave me alone.

[braisedhoney]

and this trend persisted until the i (the artist) died. the end.