#I want to continue this one

[halloiambored]

Random Snippet

CW: kidnapping and suffering, the works.

Ethan isn’t a hero.

He’s just an average guy who lives in a modest apartment on the East side of the city. He has a cat. It’s nice.

Okay, yeah - he knows things that could cripple the agency in minutes, but that doesn’t make him a hero. If anything, he’s just a liability.

“Large black coffee, please.”

This cafe is always busy around noon, conversations and kitchen clamor bleed together with the muffled chaos of the city streets.

“Sure thing. Would you like our medium or dark roast?”

“Dark would be great,” Ethan smiles weakly, thumbing through his wallet. As he pulls out a ten, his focus catches on the casual tapping of the cashier’s nails.

“Do you want room for cream and sugar?”

“Ah, nope, no thanks. Do you take cash?”

Whatever she says is lost to the ringing in his ears. A few dazed heart beats later, he remembers how to breathe. God, his life is a mess.

“Sir?”

“I uh, sorry, what did you say?” How she manages to be so kind is beyond him.

“We do! It’ll be—”

“On me! Thank you.” A gloved hand on his arm makes Ethan jump, eyes darting to the man - nope, hero - beside him. Ironically, he doesn’t recognize their suit. Ethan, the designer of every super-suit in the city, doesn’t recognize their suit.

“Really?”

“Don’t worry about it! I haven’t checked in on you in a while, it’s my treat. Hey, how’s your cat?”

Completely at a loss, Ethan stares. Something is eerily familiar about his crystal blue eyes, but he can’t place it.

“Are you okay, man? I’ve been worried about you, after everything that happened last week. Here - let’s get out of the way.”

Draping his arm across Ethan’s back, the stranger subtly shoves him toward the pickup counter.

“Look, Ethan - it is actually Ethan, right?”

“Who—”

“Oh c’mon, you don’t recognize me? Wow. Here, I’ll jog your memory.”

With a smirk, the man sends a spark of electricity racing up his spine. And sure, it’s jarring to feel his muscles flex and flutter involuntarily, but the discomfort isn’t what makes his stomach drop.

No - it’s because the villain beside him is Aaron fucking Whitehall, the ex he spent years trying to forget. Since he mentioned last week, it means he’s here because... not to…

“Oh my god.”

Like a switch, Ethan tries to squirm away. To his dismay, his strength seems to be evaporating by the second. All he manages to do before he’s slammed against the wall is knock over someone’s lunch, their plate shattering on the tile floor.

For a beat, the tension in the room is palpable. Then reality crashes back into place.

Naturally, someone’s screaming as the crowd tries to escape the henchman at the door. Ethan, though - he’s begging, eyes wide and filling with tears, hands pathetically pushing at the gloves holding him in place.

“Look, now you’ve made a scene. I was trying to be subtle, y’know. Nice. Hell, I caught you off guard in broad fucking daylight and you’re stupid enough to try to run. Aren’t you supposed to be good at your job?”

“Pleaseplea,” he chokes, breath hitching, “don’t do this, please, I don’t understand why you’re her—”

Without warning, fire. Ethan’s world is on fire.

Gasping in shock, his struggles turn frantic, panic clouding his every thought. Desperately, he coughs out, “StOP!”

“Mmm no,” Aaron continues with a malicious grin. “Instead, three things are about to happen. One, you’re going to get in my car. Two, you’re going to cooperate unconditionally. And three, you’re going to spill all of the marvelous little secrets in that pretty head of yours.”

“N-no—”

“Yeah, you will. Because if you don’t…” Aaron leans in, his breath ghosting over Ethan’s ear. Somehow, the pain gets worse, ripping a scream out of his already sore throat.

“You will suffer. I will make your life hell on earth and I will enjoy every second.”

As the rush of artificial electricity fades, Ethan falls. Even free, the designer’s lungs burn for air that doesn’t come, his body shaking uncontrollably.

“So, shall we?” Startlingly polite, Aaron turns on his heel and walks away, clearly expecting Ethan to follow.

Fuck fuck fuck, this is not going to end well.

Without missing a beat, two of the henchmen step forward to drag him along, effectively cutting off his weak protest with a knee to the gut.

“You got the wrong guy,” he wheezes, voice hoarse and charged with emotion.

After all, Ethan isn’t a hero, he’s just a liability. But if he can make Aaron believe him, if he can get out, maybe the city stands a chance.

“Yeah, sure I do.”

“No really, Aaron,” the goons throw him in the backseat, and he gracelessly scrambles away from the open door. “I work at the agency, but I’m not - they don’t trust - what secrets?”

With terrifying ease, the men drag him back to lock shackles around his wrists, the metal unforgiving.

“Oh, you don’t know anything? Seriously? After your agency leaked your name, you really think I’ll let you off that easy?”

The villain’s cruel smirk leaves nothing to the imagination. Obviously, he isn’t going to be convinced that easily. No, Aaron will ruin his dearest captive, and then some, to get what he wants.

But when Ethan finally sobs, he’s still surprised when Aaron laughs.

Why did he have to be the one to find him?

“Dam-mnit. Please, at least — I’m trying,” his already warbled voice cracks, “I trying to tell you the truth. Please. You’re going to make me go through this, you’re going to… it’s… oh my god, please let me go. I-I can’t give you information I don’t have. Aaron, plEAse!”

“Bullshit.”

At that, the car door slams in his face.

[bookwyrminspiration]

god I would be UNSTOPPABLE if I was capable of consistently initiating tasks. just you wait. you'll be waiting a while but just you wait

[linootte]

An old man with new white hairs

[inkskinned]

probably time for this story i guess but when i was a kid there was a summer that my brother was really into making smoothies and milkshakes. part of this was that we didn't have AC and couldn't afford to run fans all day so it was kind of important to get good at making Cool Down Concoctions.

we also had a patch of mint, and he had two impressionable little sisters who had the attitude of "fuck it, might as well."

at one point, for fun, this 16 year old boy with a dream in his eye and scientific fervor in heart just wanted to see how far one could push the idea of "vanilla mint smoothie". how much vanilla extract and how much mint can go into a blender before it truly is inedible.

the answer is 3 cups of vanilla extract, 1/2 cup milk alternative, and about 50 sprigs (not leaves, whole spring) of mint. add ice and the courage of a child. idk, it was summer and we were bored.

the word i would use to describe the feeling of drinking it would maybe be "violent" or perhaps, like. "triangular." my nose felt pristine. inhaling following the first sip was like trying to sculpt a new face. i was ensconced in a mesh of horror. it was something beyond taste. for years after, i assumed those commercials that said "this is how it feels to chew five gum" were referencing the exact experience of this singular viscous smoothie.

what's worse is that we knew our mother would hate that we wasted so much vanilla extract. so we had to make it worth it. we had to actually finish the drink. it wasn't "wasting" it if we actually drank it, right? we huddled around outside in the blistering sun, gagging and passing around a single green potion, shivering with disgust. each sip was transcendent, but in a sort of non-euclidean way. i think this is where i lost my binary gender. it eroded certain parts of me in an acidic gut ecology collapse.

here's the thing about love and trust: the next day my brother made a different shake, and i drank it without complaint. it's been like 15 years. he's now a genuinely skilled cook. sometimes one of the three of us will fuck up in the kitchen or find something horrible or make a terrible smoothie mistake and then we pass it to each other, single potion bottle, and we say try it it's delicious. it always smells disgusting. and then, cerimonious, we drink it together. because that's what family does.

[artkaninchenbau]

People keep on asking for more Baby Robin and Papadile so here is more Baby Robin and Papadile. Now never ask anything from me ever again

[girlboyburger]

[d-1hater]

honestly one of the main reasons I like dc is that they can’t keep a storyline straight for shit. anything I don’t like is just *not real*. that’s different storyline babes what are you talking about???

like at this point I can consider shit like wfa and hell even well written fanfics as canon bc who knows what’s going on with those funky little people?? certainly not the dc writers

[mumblesplash]

in honor of last season’s poem being called “”end poem”” (all quotes mandatory) this season i made one out of pieces of the actual end poem

[soranker]

DEEP💥SPACE💥PLANET💥FUTURE💥GUN💥ACTION❗️

[sketchy-tour]

Beta playing pool beta playing pool beta playing pool beta-

ANYWAY! I brain rotted about this idea for a hot minute! Take these beta doodles. Putting them in your hands. Now I can properly beam Beta playing pool into your minds with a visual! Enjoy

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Kiss Kiss Fallen Tree!

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[tapakah0]

@somerandomdudelmao *cough-cough* *COUGH* Sorry I'm still not over this arc... *disappears*

Imagine Dragons - I Bet My Life

[zephyrchama]

Asmo's wake-up call

You sensed that were you were not alone and gradually stirred from your sleep. Upon turning over and opening your eyes, an ethereal sight greeted you.

Asmodeus. Head resting on his arms, he leaned against the side of your bed like a fairy tale royal. His skin looked smooth and glistening. His eyes were as clear as an untouched tropical sea. Not a single hair was out of place. Artists would go to battle to acquire a muse even half as wonderful.

Your eyes felt crusty. Even half-closed, the light (or maybe just Asmodeus) was too bright and forced you to squint. Your limbs were inelegantly splayed out across the bed, with a sheet corner tangled around your ankle. There was a spot of dried drool at the corner of your mouth.

"What." That was all you could muster to say. What time was it? What was he doing there? What was going on? It was the prelude to many questions on your mind.

"Oh, you're awake? Good morning, sleepy head!" Asmodeus beamed at you, showing off flawlessly white teeth. Every tooth was perfect. You stared while waiting for your brain to turn on.

"I wanted us to hang out today," he continued, "so I came to see what you were doing. Sleeping in! It was sooo cute. Even now, look at you!"

You felt like a rotten moss-covered log in the forest out back. Asmodeus raised his D.D.D. and started snapping away, preserving the moment for eternity in images. That was a more alarming wake-up call.

Your brain urged its cells to move faster with a spike of adrenaline. Your hand lunged at Asmodeus' arm, grabbing his wrist, trying to sit your body upright. It was always so startling how soft his skin felt. Today's fragrance was something fruity. "What are you doing...?" you managed to say.

Asmodeus grabbed your hand back with delight. "So affectionate in the morning! I love it. I want to make sure I capture all of these adorable moments." You heard more shutter sounds, a whole burst of them.

Nope. Not while you looked like a spoiled potato in bed. This meant war.

[uncanny-tranny]

I recall saying this before, but it bears repeating:

There could be a billion trans people in the world and it still wouldn't be a bad thing because being trans is not a bad thing. Even if the rate of people discovering they are trans is "disproportionate" to trends from decades ago, that is not a bad thing. In fact, it's a natural consequence for there being more trans people being able to stay alive, and, overall, being able to live in a slightly more tolerant world. You'd only see that as a bad thing if you actively didn't want trans people to either live or live a life that facilitates wellness.

[is-this-even-relatable]

Misfortune Teller

tldr: An older Danny, apprentice to Clockwork, does a lot of field work across dimensions, resetting the timeline, queuing future events, and who knows what else. Occasionally, he warns people about such upcoming possibilities, to set them on the right path. How, you might ask? Well in this case... as a wandering fortune teller.

Crack-fic (oh god, it's getting long and my logic brain won't let it remain as crack) where Danny becomes Clockwork's apprentice after getting his GED. Living his infinite afterlife to the fullest. Inspired by this tumblr post.

-----------------------------------------------------

Working for Clockwork had been... interesting so far. At first, Danny got frustrated by how vague and cryptic Clockwork was. He'd just shunt Danny off to some ancient time with a few words, his own time medallion (Danny carried it everywhere with him now), and then pop back into the portal, leaving Danny with only the faintest idea of where to go.

Eventually, after enough time (ha!) spent around Clockwork, Danny figured out that it just basically meant that he had free reign and to do whatever he wanted. Because if he went on the wrong path, (like that one time in Pompeii when he had almost caused the volcano to explode a few years too early), Clockwork would just pop on by, say another few cryptic words, and then it'd all be fine and dandy, or as he liked to say, "All is as it should be... Now stop practicing your wail by an active volcano."

After telling Jazz about that (it was supposed to be funny, not concerning), she just sighed and shook her head, with a forlorn "think before you act, Danny!" but hey, it'd turned out fine so far, so who cares how he does what Clockwork asks him to do, as long as it gets done, right? Even if it's with a liiiiitle more mischief than strictly required.

Besides. Danny was the one who had been doing time shenanigans across millennia, not Jazz. And he thought he'd been getting pretty good at it too! He'd actually started giving himself a different made-up background for each universe he visited. Sam and Tucker were helping him keep up with the identities on a spreadsheet, so if he had to go back to one he'd already visited, he'd remember who he'd said he was supposed to be.

---

He was on a call with them one evening while haunting Jazz's apartment, doing just that, when he felt a familiar tingle in the back of his throat, as well as a heightened awareness of the seconds passing by, that always accompanied his mentor's appearance.

Sam was talking about his past stint posing as a god of death when he cut in. "Hey- sorry to interrupt, Sam- Clocky's here, guys, I gotta dip."

"Aw, come on! We hardly talked any this past week since you passed your certifications, man," Tucker complained.

Danny rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Yeah, yeah. Partly on you too though, you've been caught up outside of class, and Sam's schedule is nearly the opposite of yours."

Sam hummed in agreement despiter Tucker's scoff.

Danny missed hanging out with them as much as they had in high school, but hey, life goes on. Or at least, theirs did, to college. After finally flunking out of Casper High, he'd taken some time to get used to his responsibilities in the ghost zone, and when he had, he realized that he didn't really have much enthusiasm or timeleft for his human life.

And he didn't really want to go back home either.

But Jazz had made him tie up any loose ends before he noped-off to god knows where, which frankly, he had to thank her for. Getting his GED took a few years, but it was an accomplishment that could be attributed to Danny Fenton, no ghostliness required. Then he was able to let that tether go free.

Pulled out of his musings by a few more grumbles from Tucker, Danny said his goodbyes, promising to call the next time they were all available.

After hanging up, Danny swiveled around, anticipation already lighting up his eyes an ethereal green.

Clockwork, for his part, had been waiting patiently through Danny's lengthy goodbyes. Although he supposed that it tracked for the watcher of time to be patient. With his job, it'd be a nightmare if he wasn't.

"Phantom," Clockwork spoke, calm as always. "I have some tasks I need you to complete as my apprentice."

And Danny, always ready for adventure, didn't need him to explain any further. "Sure! When do you need me to be?"

Clockwork smiled at that. "I am fortunate you are eager. Follow me."

---

Danny popped into existence in this universe with a burst of cold air and static electricity. He found himself hovering by a clocktower above a sprawling, gothic city. Smog and light pollution obscured the stars above him, to his disappointment. He comforted himself with the fact that he'd probably have all the time he wanted to fly someplace less populated to see them later.

He started off by familiarizing himself with the city. As he flew, he followed the trail of power and met the resident city-spirit, a spooky- but kind underneath- woman draped in black lace, who told him her name was Gotham. He spoke in length with her about this universe, its heroes, and her knights. On that, she was very enthusiastic... or at least Danny thought she was, her projected emotions belaying much more than her gloomy exterior. She told him how her knights had been through a lot and would need some guidance fighting the darkness that pooled in her deepest corners, smiling with too much glee, filling lungs with fear, and terrorizing with cold hard bullets.

Danny could sense that the dangers she spoke of were growing in power, ever slowly. The longer they shadowed people's minds and hearts, an intangible thing grew that lent them more otherworldly pull than their physical forms had right to hold.

That must be what he was sent here for.

But... they were weak, pitifully so for him, infinite king as he was. And besides, he wasn't here in that sense. He was a messenger, a simple apprentice. And he could do this however he wanted.

Cue his talk with Lady Gotham, and subsequent idea to arm her knights. With what? Well, he figured knowledge would be a start. Flying high above the city invisibly, Danny noticed a sea of colors and lights by what appeared to be the city's pier. He flew down, noting that it appeared to be the setup spot for a travelling circus or carnival of some kind.

He considered what to do. One of Lady Gotham's troubles was a madman clown, right? Well maybe he'd be attracted to his ilk here... and with the danger came the knights. Maybe he could catch one of them here?

Danny was floating around at the entrance and beginning to formulate a plan when a flyer caught his eye. Looking for a mystic to read fortunes. URGENT!

Hadn't Clockwork said something about fortunes? And he hadn't made an identity in this universe yet...

A mischievous smile crept across Danny's face, splitting it in two with far too many teeth.

---

Half a city away, a man in all black, perched on the very same clocktower that Phantom had Appeared by, shivered as he felt an ominous premonition about his sanity in the near future...

Said man quickly opened his comms to check in with his many, many kids. Yet even after hearing back from each, he still felt apprehensive.

Somewhere even further, Clockwork laughed.

---

And that's how Danny found himself seated at a fortune teller's booth at a pier in Gotham, two days later, for the Tricksy Traveling Circus's grand opening.

[choccy-milky]

insatiable clora and (barely) resisting seb from my latest chap🌡️💕