#NO Electricity Required

[is-this-even-relatable]

A Rising Phantom

———

Summary: danny died, and no one knows. He is a full ghost, and only thanks to his dual obsessions can he “live” a normal life and pretend that nothing happened.

I aim to make this a multichaptered fic! Hopefully, the first fic I post on AO3!

HEADCANONS/TROPES/TAGS:

no one knows! AU

full ghost! danny

eventual everlasting trio

dual obsessions inspired by this post, which are protection (Phantom) and space (Fenton)

my own headcanon: danny's death is inevitable, a single point in time that cannot be avoided or changed.

———

Danny died on a Saturday.

He was too young to have been left alone; any other house would’ve be fine, but everyone in that town knew, even then, that the Fentons' house was to be avoided by a wide berth.

His parents had rushed out in a frustrated fit, leaving him and Jazz by themselves for the weekend, just like so many before. They were always an afterthought to their parents, long before he was 14.

Danny didn’t intend to go down to the lab that night. But Jazz was out with her friend Kyle, and he was bored. And something down there called to him, though he didn’t know it.

He didn’t know that forces beyond his comprehension were leading to this point, this singularity.

If Danny had known the fate in store for him, he would have begged his parents for them to stay that night, or take him with them. But he didn't know, he couldn't have known... because that's how it was always going to be.

He didn’t know that a man with a clock in his chest, who changed between ages in the blink of an eye, was watching as he walked down those lonely steps.

He didn’t know, as he pulled on a white hazmat suit hand-sewn just for him, far too flimsy for what it was meant to protect him against, that a sentient dimension was pushing against the veil, straining for him.

He didn’t know, as he stepped through the gaping metal maw, that it had already called his name, and death had claimed it.

And afterwards, while he curled up on the cold basement floor, clutching his chest for a pulse, he still did not know that even if he had known... he would have had no choice but to do the same.

Danny died when he turned the portal on, alone in his parents’ lab.

Standing inside, fifty million Watts of electricity coursed from his palm to his heart, searing its path into his skin. It had no exit route. It cooked him from the inside, lighting all of his nerves on fire, and doused him in an infinite realm’s worth of dimensional energy. After what seemed like hours of screaming, panicking, burning- he somehow managed to crawl out of the portal.

He died then, lying flat in front of the machine that ended him, as the intense pain faded into a dull throb that replaced the beating that used to be in his chest.

And as he sat up, feeling both sore and feather-light, he looked down upon his body, and realized that he had died that day, and he was not coming back.

Danny panicked. And he did the only thing he could do. He decided to run away, afraid of what he was, confused and scared and feeling very not himself.

But the main anxiety that drove him to hide his accident was a rather juvenile one.

…He was afraid that his parents would be upset that he had gone into the lab without their permission.

He had messed with their stuff, and turned something on… something he definitely shouldn’t have.

He had just opened a portal to a realm full of the very things that kept him from sleeping at night, of “unfeeling monsters” that his parents had drilled into him about for years.

A portal to ghosts… that were now free to come through.

That thought made something inside him solidify, and a low hum began to emanate from him as he worried about his family. About the ghosts and the portal and how they were going to manage without him…

He couldn’t just leave like this. Not when he was responsible. He couldn’t let a whole realm of monsters hurt his family. At that thought, dread filled him, and that same something inside his chest ached.

But it occurred to him that he still had to leave. Not just at the thought of his parents stumbling in on his body.

No, it was about him. For he was one of them now, wasn’t he? A ghost. And he was a monster now, too. Despite not feeling like one. Despite knowing that there was clearly something wrong with what he had been told and what he knew was intimately true of himself in this new form.

But something inside him whispered at him that he couldn’t take the chance, if he did turn into a monster. He couldn’t let himself hurt his family.

So with fears on his back and a tingle fading from his fingertips, Danny pulled himself up onto unsteady feet. He took his body outside, to the woods where no one would know. And he buried it, alone, surrounded by trees and the sky.

He sat there, at his fresh grave, and cried.

Holding his arms around himself tight, he mourned the loss of warmth, of blood pumping and his heartbeat, so loud in its absence.

Surrounded by nothing but silence, he mourned that he’d never made close friends, nor really had the chance.

Looking up at the stars, he mourned that he could never fulfill his dream of being an astronaut.

He mourned for himself because no one else could.

And as his last cry petered off into the night, the sun broke the horizon.

A different something tugged at his chest, and he let it pull without resistance, worn ragged as he was.

And he was grateful he did. For a soothing light washed over him and transformed him into something similar, but not quite as he was Before.

But he felt warmth, and he felt a pseudo-beat in his chest, sluggish as it was. And suddenly he realized that although he was dead, he was alive in a different way.

He was still there.

He didn’t have to give up on life.

He was not going to be a monster.

Danny walked back home. He washed the dirt away from under his fingernails. He swept the lab until it looked like no one had been there. Minus the massive swirling vortex.

And when Jazz got home from her sleepover, Danny hugged her with a smile.

He was going to be fine.

They would all be fine, he would make sure of it.

[idalenn]

Happy Pride, y'all! Kisses for all of you

[majorshatterandhare]

[Answer options in order are:

1. Yes, guitar, mandolin

2. Yes, piano/keyboard

3. Yes, violin, viola, cello, bass (inc. electric bass)

4. Yes, percussion

5. Yes, a woodwind

6. Yes, a brass instrument

7. Yes, multiple

8. Yes, something not mentioned here

9. No, I do not currently play an instrument but I sing

10. No, I do not currently play an instrument and I do not sing.

End Options]

Please specify in the comments or tags!

I’m sorry there aren’t more options, I only had 10 spaces or I would’ve included more. I tried to go with the most common and obviously with groups!

What counts for singing is up to you. I think most people sing some amount, but you can decide if yours counts or not. The reason for this is because you can teach yourself an instrument, so not requiring lessons or anything for either instruments or singing.

If you want to learn an instrument, especially if you don’t currently play any, I would love to know if you shared!

Please reblog! I wanna know how many of us play instuments ourselves and what that distribution is.

If you don’t listen to the Mechanisms don’t respond to this poll! I’m sure your answer is very interesting, but it will skew the results!

[phantomtwitch]

Sooo I wrote a Part 2 for the Everyone Knows AU part of angstfest. (Anything to avoid editing my IB fic right now, apparently)

Part One of this fic is here if you missed it!

Danny sits in the passenger seat of Jazz’s car, leaning his head against the window as his Mom drives them in silence, her hands tightly gripping the steering wheel. His Dad and sister are back at FentonWorks, since his parents insisted it would be best if Danny and his Mom went alone, and it’s been hours since he’s seen any real signs of civilization. The further they travel from home the worse he feels, some nagging sense of discomfort and uneasiness that won’t relent, even as he knows this is to help him. 

For over a year and a half, he’s been experiencing fainting spells and blackouts every time there’s a ghost attack. He’s lucky his friends have managed to keep it hidden from his peers at school, since he knows Dash’s bullying would only increase if he knew Danny was so terrified of the ghosts that he fainted every time one appeared. They tried to keep it from his parents, too, with his sister Jazz’s help, even as Danny couldn’t understand why. But every time he thought about telling them in the past, his jaw would lock up and the words would die before he could utter even a single syllable. 

Yet now they know. He remembers waking up in the lab, not sure how he made it there, his parents sobbing as Jazz hovered in the corner, arms crossed over her chest as she watched the three of them warily. They said something to him, explained something even as they lectured Jazz, too, about keeping this a secret, but the words slipped from his fingers within minutes, and whatever confession they made was lost to him. But he can remember the fear in their eyes, the way they trembled and shook, and the odd sense that they were afraid of him rather than for him. He can remember asking if he should go to a doctor and the way they paled, adamantly refusing to bring him to anyone for weeks. It’s only now that they’ve finally agreed to bring him to see some specialist way out in Wisconsin. 

It used to be that whenever this happened, something would push back in his own subconscious eventually, reassuring him that it was fine, that he was fine, that there was nothing to worry about. It would smother him like a comforter in the middle of a snowstorm, warm and inviting and soft even as it felt entirely too heavy and like he really ought to be outside helping to dig out from the blizzard instead of hiding inside beneath his covers, but he still let it, the embrace too kind and safe for him to push back against. But this time he could not forget, not when his parents flinched every time he entered a room, not when they seemed so afraid even after so many weeks. Danny wishes he knew what he did wrong, what they fear about him, why they seem to almost hate him at times. It hurts, the ache so intense that there are moments when he swears something within him is fracturing and slowly crumbling to pieces, and he hopes this specialist can help repair whatever’s been broken. 

When they finally arrive, though, it’s not at a doctor’s office but a massive mansion. “Are you sure we’re in the right place?” he asks, cocking an eyebrow. 

“I’m sure,” she insists as she unbuckles her seatbelt while Danny steps out of the car. Despite the bright colors and decor, something in him uncurls in his gut like a snake, rearing back and ready to strike, and Danny shivers as he fights back against the odd sensation. 

The man who greets them is tall with silver hair pulled back into an elegant ponytail tied with a red silk ribbon that probably costs more than Danny’s entire wardrobe. He’s wearing a dark black suit and red tie, and the way he smiles reminds Danny of a crocodile or a shark. It’s as if he’s slime given form and Danny shudders.

“Hello, Vlad,” says Mom. 

“My dearest Maddie,” he says, kissing his mother on both cheeks. “How lovely to see you after so long. And what a pleasure to meet you, young Daniel. I’ve heard quite a bit about you.” He offers him his hand and Danny shakes it, barely resisting the urge to pull away immediately since the man’s grip is too hot, like fire burns beneath his fingertips. A small, absurd part of him wonders if he’s the devil, if his parents are planning to make some terrible deal (or admit to having done so long ago given his issues), but he pushes his fears down. 

“Thanks, I guess, but I don’t know anything about you,” replies Danny, and the man flinches briefly before recovering. “My Mom said you could help me with my fainting spells and blackouts, though.”

“Ah, yes. Your ‘fainting spells,’” he says bemusedly, as if in quotes, and that defensive, roiling in his gut returns, more pronounced than before. 

“Vlad,” says Mom sternly. “Please. Can you help him?”

“That depends entirely on what you mean by help, but I’ll see what I can do,” he says with a small smirk, and Danny bristles even as his Mom seems satisfied with the response. “Follow me.” 

The two of them walk through the massive mansion. It’s decked out in Packers paraphernalia, which seems completely at odds with the perfectly poised man in front of him. “You’re a cheesehead?” says Danny. 

“Indeed. I’ve tried to buy the Packers several times, too, but to no avail,” he says, teeth gritted, and Danny suspects the man isn’t told ‘no’ very often. He worries what that means for him and his potential treatment. 

“What kind of specialist are you?” he asks. 

“I am technically a business owner, but I’ve done extensive research into unique types of ecto entities,” he says, watching Danny out of the corner of his eye. “Entities like yourself.”

“I’m not–I’m human,” he objects, and he can feel that buzzing, that comfortable embrace pulling on him, and he tries to resist it but finds himself unwilling to do so for long, and by the time he’s aware once more he’s standing on the stairs to a basement lab, unable to remember what Vlad’s specialty is, what else they talked about or how they even made it here. 

“What did you say you specialized in?” he asks, and Vlad pauses on the stairs in front of them, turning to him with a frown. 

“See?” says Mom. “I told you already, Vlad, he can’t remember for more than a minute or two.”

“Remember what?” asks Danny irritably. 

“That I’m a specialist who can help you with your blackouts and medical issues,” says Vlad, and Danny frowns. That’s frustratingly non-specific, even as it’s almost certainly, technically true. 

“So like a neurologist?” he presses. 

“Something like that,” he says, and Danny scowls as he follows him the rest of the way into the lab, not sure why they won’t tell him the truth, not sure why he can’t remember if they already did. 

The lab itself is incredibly high-tech. There’s no repurposed household items like there are in his parents’ lab, and everything is carefully organized, labeled, and tucked away. In one corner sits a massive portal, and Danny’s eyes widen as he takes in the green swirling within it, recognizing it for what it is. “You’re an ecto scientist?” he says, turning to the man as he puts on a lab coat. 

“Indeed, though I specialize in many other areas, too,” he says. “Maddie, dear, why don’t you have a seat over there while I examine young Daniel?” 

His Mom pauses, eyeing Vlad warily for a moment before finally relenting and taking a seat at one of the empty lab benches. “And you, child, come here,” he insists, beckoning to him like Danny’s an obedient puppy, and Danny glares as he takes a seat on the bed, crossing his arms over his chest. “I need to do a quick scan. Please lay back.”

“What kind of scan?” He won’t simply do what this man asks, not without knowing more first. Not when even his Mom looks nervous. 

“Think of it like an MRI or x-ray. I promise, it’s harmless,” he says, flashing his teeth in a way that’s meant to be reassuring but is far too predatory, and Danny shivers as he looks at his Mom. She gives a small smile that’s not half as reassuring as he hoped even as she nods for him to do as Vlad says, and Danny sighs as he lays down on the bed, letting his hands rest on his stomach, his fingers twisting around in his shirt as he ignores the pounding of his heart and the sweat on his palms. 

‘I’ll be fine,’ he thinks stubbornly to himself, and he feels that odd sense of warmth, of a hug from something within his chest and relaxes as Vlad wheels over some strange scanner. It moves slowly over him, hovering for a long time near where his heart and lungs are before progressing, and then Vlad sits down at a computer for a few minutes as he reviews the results, humming thoughtfully as Danny’s Mom walks over and peers over his shoulder. 

“Is that . . .?” she asks, pointing to something on the screen. 

“Yes. But see this? There’s disconnection here,” he says, pointing to it and moving his finger, and Danny angles his head to try and see what they’re looking at but he can’t, the screen angled away from him too much. He starts to sit up when his Mom looks at him and shakes her head, and with a sigh he lays back down, drumming his fingers on his stomach impatiently. Clearly they’ve found something, and he feels like he has a right to know what. “The pathways didn’t form properly, and if they aren’t repaired, he’s not going to survive for much longer. You can already see the damage to his internal organs.” 

Danny swallows, his blood running cold. He’s going to die? He didn’t–he can’t be–

“Can you fix it?” she asks, interrupting his thoughts. 

“I think so, but it may be a bit traumatic,” Vlad says, “and with the disconnection having lasted so long, I’m not certain how cooperative he’ll be when it comes to the required treatment. Still, the memory issues are more severe than they ought to be even in this case. I have my suspicions about the cause, but I’ll need to provoke him to confirm it.”

“What?” Danny’s heart is beating rapidly and he’s sitting up now, staring at them with wide eyes, unable to hold back his terror even as he can begin to feel that tug at him, that warmth, but he won’t give into it this time. He can’t. He needs to know. 

“I would explain it, child, but you won’t remember,” sighs Vlad as he stands up. “Do you trust your mother?”

“I–what?” he sputters. Aside from it sounding like he’s probably dying, Danny’s still not sure what’s happening here, even as Vlad and his mom do seem to understand, and he desperately wants them to explain it to him, to tell him the truth, for someone to be honest with him just once.

“I would prefer your consent, of course, but you literally cannot give it due to your condition,” he explains, which makes absolutely no sense to Danny. “I’m asking if you trust your mother so she can at least grant it on your behalf.”

His mouth opens automatically to say that of course he trusts her, but then he pauses, the words dying on his tongue. Does he trust her? She’s brought him here with little to no explanation, and like with his sister and his friends, Danny knows nothing about why or what’s happening to him besides the blackouts. They all claim they’ve told him about it before–even this Vlad guy seems to suggest as much–but he hates that he can’t remember, hates that he has nothing to fall back on to confirm that they all have his best interest at heart beyond his own gut feeling. And his instincts right now are diametrically opposed, screaming at each other to reassure Vlad that he trusts her even as another part insists that he can’t, that he shouldn’t, that she’ll hurt him and he needs to be kept safe and he can feel that part forcibly pushing down on his ability to say yes, to let them know they can do the treatment, that they need to move forward and–

Danny blinks, struggling to remember what he was thinking about, what question he was supposed to answer. “I–sorry–can you . . . what did you say?” he whispers, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment, and Vlad tilts his head to the side. 

“Interesting,” he hums. “But it does provide more proof for what I suspect is occurring. Maddie, dear, do I have your permission?”

“But he–”

“I’m not sure he can,” interrupts Vlad as Danny stares at them cluelessly, not sure what they’re talking about again. He’s lost some more time, he’s sure, but he doesn’t know why. He doesn’t think he fainted or fully blacked out, yet the last thing he can remember is laying down on the table before Vlad prepared to start the scan, and he shivers, rubbing his arms. 

She turns to look at him, and then walks over, putting a hand on his shoulder. “It’ll be okay, hon,” she says and then she gives him a hug, squeezing him tightly, but he can feel her trembling even as she tries to reassure him. “I promise, okay?”

“I–okay,” he manages, the word choking its way past, and then she walks back to Vlad. 

“Maddie, my dear, you’ll need to stay here, please,” he insists, and Mom nods as Vlad comes over with something Danny recognizes. It’s a portable ghost shield, although the design is different from the one his parents use, and Vlad presses a finger against a sensor, activating around them as Danny’s heart beats faster now and the thing in his gut rears back, ready to strike as Vlad’s eyes flash impossibly red and a set of black rings appear around his waist, and–

Danny’s body drops to the table as Phantom emerges, hissing and shrieking at the intruder and ghost before him, tackling him with his claws as his brain screams at him to protect, protect, protect! The ghost puts up a shield, eyeing him lazily as he speaks, his words full of fire and ash even as they sound human, too, smothered beneath the surface of the water. “Enough, child,” he insists, using human words, but he can see the ripples in his aura, the subtle shifts that indicate his intentions, and he pauses with his claws outstretched, ectoblast building between the black tips. “So you are sentient enough, at least, to understand. Can you speak?” 

He hisses, echoes and static and chirps as his aura flares in response, letting him know that he sees the threat but that he’s unafraid, that he will protect Danny and his mother from the ghost in front of him. There are no real words, not in the way there is with human speech simply because there doesn’t need to be, his intentions and meaning clear enough for any ghost to understand. 

“Ah. I thought not, based on what we saw in the scans,” he muses. Black rings appear around his waist and he shifts, the dark haired ghost with bluish skin and fire in his hands and eyes vanishing beneath a human facade. “I promise I intend no harm.”

The words mean less to Phantom now than they would’ve if Vlad spoke them before transforming. Vlad’s aura is muted this way, his intentions less clear even as Phantom can taste the ash on his tongue as the man speaks, the echo of Vlad’s otherness apparent to him, and Phantom floats forward, tilting his head around as he puts a clawed hand on Vlad’s chest to better feel the pulsing of his core beneath his flesh. 

“Vlad, are you–” begins Mom, her words sounding distant and submerged beneath waves. It’s always so hard for him to hear and understand the humans that speak to him, even as he tries since he doesn’t want to hurt them. He needs to protect them. He needs to keep them safe. 

“I’m quite fine,” he insists, even as Phantom hisses a warning at him. “Are you done posturing? I’m here to help you, Daniel. Or do you prefer Phantom?”  Phantom’s aura flares, spiking and sending a mixture of signals. “You are not helping him.” His claws extend, pushing intangibly through his skin, grasping his core, but Vlad remains calm despite the clear threat. “This isn’t how it’s supposed to be. You are disconnected from yourself this way. You leave behind your body each time, and eventually, no matter how much your friends and family intervene, you will not be able to return to it.”

He turns his head more, floating upside down, his tail spiraling behind him as he considers the words. Vlad’s core is too tightly grasped between his fingers for him to hide his intentions, and there’s truth there, at least as far as Vlad sees it, and Phantom sends a questioning chirp. “You are meant to be a single entity,” he says. “But your core is not fully connected to your biological systems. It’s created a barrier between you and Daniel, an artificial wall that should not exist, and it’s harming both of you.”

Phantom hisses reflexively, showing his sharp teeth as he lets one of his claws dig into Vlad’s core, and the man winces but otherwise hides his distress at the intrusion. “You can’t keep denying it and hiding the truth from your human half. I know you’re trying to protect him. I know you’re trying to help. But it’s hurting him. He’s confused and upset and scared. You’re leaving his body behind whenever you respond to the intruders in your haunt, as you’ve done here. You risk him being discovered, being captured by the GIW or other ghost hunters who, unlike your parents, would not be willing to try to help you. They would experiment on him, dissect him, and ultimately destroy both of you.” 

“And it’s hurting him physically, too,” says Vlad. “My scans are showing damage to his internal organs and structures. If this continues for much longer, your human half will not survive. It cannot.”

He relaxes his hand, the words coming out in a whisper of echoes and static, of uneasiness and fear. 

Vlad responds quietly in kind, sending an oddly comforting response from a man whose core burns with impossible anger and resentment at the world. “I know you’re worried about how he’ll manage knowing the truth of who he is. But you cannot hide it from him forever, not without destroying him and yourself. Please, child. Allow me to help you be whole again,” he says. 

He withdraws his hand, sending out a questioning burst of noise, of inquiry. Because he doesn’t want Danny to die. He doesn’t want to die. 

“The integration was prevented due to the interference of your family and friends,” he explains, and his Mom flinches. “Our transformation is not meant to have artificial triggers. The use of the AED to resuscitate you, to fill your core with electricity so it can artificially force the ectoplasm within your body to bring you back, has prevented it from fully bonding to your own systems and sending the spark from within itself to revive your human half upon your transformation. You must re-enter Daniel and trigger the change yourself. You must use the energy from your own core, your own essence.”

A soft, pleading whine. 

“You can,” insists Vlad. “More than that, you must.”

He moves from the man, floating over to himself, to his other half, to the part that he misses and aches for every time he leaves to take care of the ghostly threats that intrude on his haunt. Reaching out, Phantom places his hand on Danny’s chest, feeling the absence of breath, the missing life that should be there, and the gentle hum of a fragment of his own core pulsing within, that keeps him whole and alive despite the loss of his spirit even if humans can’t sense it. 

And with a terrified shiver, he pushes himself inside, letting him flow into the body, to not merely overshadow and reattach but become one again as he tries to seek the spark from within his core, tries to connect his spirit and body in full. He’s not sure he can, not without the external boost, and he can feel himself holding back, his worry over how Danny will handle the truth about knowing what he is, knowing that his parents almost certainly hate him and fear him, that his friends will never accept him–

“--focus,” says Vlad, and then he feels someone gripping Danny’s hand and he opens Danny’s eyes, expecting the half-ghost, but it’s not Vlad. 

It’s his Mom.

“Please, son,” she whispers, tears burning in her eyes. “Please.” 

And he mumbles something in response, his aura flickering as he speaks in a language she can’t understand, and he feels her grip Danny’s hand–their hand, his hand–more tightly, trying to reassure him, to let him know he’s okay, he’s safe, that they love him and care about him as he–

–Danny blinks, gasping as he sits up, clutching at his chest. It hurts, like ice and lightning and fire pouring through his veins and he wants to scream even as it feels right, as a bright light passes over him and he shifts, feeling oddly weightless and absent for a moment before they pass over him again and he shifts once more, back to being heavy and human and present. It’s painful and terrifying yet oh so right, and somehow, that makes it worse. 

And he sits for a moment, hand still clutching his chest even as his mother hasn’t let go of his other hand, as his world crashes around him, as he remembers who they are, who he is, what he is. As his memories he’s kept from himself in an effort to protect his human half crash back, slamming into him impossibly hard, moments spent in ghost fights and then burrowing himself inside his own helpless corpse as his friends were forced to endure the burden of caring for him and protecting him, and Danny lets out a keening wail that’s neither human nor ghostly in its sound but some odd blend of the two. 

“I’m a monster,” he whispers, sobbing as his shoulders shake, and his Mom shifts, moving to hold him tightly to herself. 

“Oh, hon,” she says, but no words follow, no gentle affirmations that she loves him, no denials about him being the horrifying creature he knows they’ve seen him as, that they’ve hunted and shot at and threatened to experiment on and–

“It’ll be okay,” she says, interrupting his spiraling thoughts as she strokes his hair. “We’ll figure it out, Danny. I promise.”

Maybe someday he’ll believe her.

[bloodyarson]

okay but a thing i think about every time we have one of those few day periods where the weather is not fit for even a dog being outside is how the hell are homeless people surviving this. like i said in a previous post it's currently -40 degrees with the windchill and i honestly cannot imagine how someone who does not have a place to go inside and spend the night is supposed to not freeze to death. it makes me upset every time the temperature drops like this, i cannot imagine how many homeless people will be frozen to death in the next 24 hours if they somehow haven't already. the fact that there are hundreds of empty houses sitting there empty with totally functional heating while people are DYING from the cold on a street corner makes me SO FUCKING ANGRY while at the same time my heart is breaking in pieces for them. rest in peace to every poor person who will not make it through the weekend. i am so sorry.

[artebris]

I am so, so, so, so blessed with this one.

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───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ── ✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

AI: Midjourney

Character: Arlene Irving (my main HL MC and my muse and goddess)

Daily prompt from beloved @ror-roleplay

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Remark below (depending on what I heard lately about the AI):

I am artist, I work as artist and I support artists. I think AI is a great instrument in helping artists when used properly, giving the inspirational results, ideas, developing imagination and text describing skills. Silly fun involved. You won’t spend for weeks of your life creating a masterpiece for fun!

Open minded view nowadays is crucial.

We cannot deny the progress, but we can get the whole from it. Maybe there were people who denied the creation of the wheel. Well, they are not here.

But the wheel is.

Whether we like it or not.

[y2khaos]

a collection of emojis ive custom-made for my robot/tech server (invite is in my pinned!!)

[jeremygndr]

electric dreams art.. and a bit of oc x canon in the last two, that’s my oc, tommy. she’s objectum and edgar is really special to me so i thought it’d be fun to doodle them ^_^

[kindahoping4forever]

5SOS IG Story

[wuts-good-gatsby]

It's so frustrating to me that people see electric automobiles as a green technology. They are anything but.

[anothermonikan]

I get so insane about Edgar asking Miles if he wants to play (pong) it's not even funny.

[anormalkidingotham]

gotham finally has (regular) electricity again and i feel like we've really missed out on a lot while basically being cut off from the rest of the world

[musubiki]

sometimes think about how in a tcwg pokemon au lime would be the champion and mochi would be the professor

[yourubersawcrit]

Oh Medic TF2, we're really in it now.

[castielsupernatural]

oh my god i’m so irrationally excited to be sleeping comfortably in my own bed tonight

[bassicallymaestra]

I haven't had any time to draw this week between working extra hours at the gallery and musical tech week and I teach at a music camp next week! So instead I wanted to share what it looks like to be in an orchestra pit (especially for people who have never seen one before). The conductor is on a platform and the opening allows the conductor to see what's going on stage so they can cue both the pit ensemble and the cast ensemble on stage. I've had a little experience conducting the end of Handel's Alcina and it was SO NEAT seeing everyone and the stage so close up, while being able to work with the pit musicians. I always joked its the best seat in the house (also the most nerve-wracking)

tbh, this pit is one of the nicest I've been in, they're usually just concrete and dust 😭 the other one I usually play in also has a low ceiling so I can't pull my endpin out and use a stool for playing so I have to play like a literal gremlin 😂

This is what it's supposed to look like:

Here's me with the worst posture and hoping my professor doesn't come down to see this atrocious technique:

I've played in a lot of musicals, some of my favorites being Elf, Sound of Music, Ride the Cyclone, Newsies, and recently Beauty and the Beast! My favorite opera to play in was Puccini's Gianni Schicchi, which is an absolute riot of an opera (it's basically Weekend at Bernie's).