#SHE WANTS TO WAVE TO THE WORLD

[chaos-bringer-13]

I've seen a lot of people writing Danny as a space ancient and Dan and Dani as ghosts with moon and sun cores, being sort of parts, versions of Danny and therefore weaker. Now, consider: Dan and Dani are both powerful ghosts with really cool cores and stuff but Danny is just some guy™

Dan, who came from an alternate timeline and is kind of from the future but also not, is Clockwork's apprentice and will eventually become an ancient of time. He probably only agreed to have some lessons with Clockwork to understand better what happened to him, but he enjoys his apprenticeship now.

Dani, with her love of travelling, loves seeing all the different places the world offers to her, and that includes space and different planets and maybe even parallel universes, and she accidentally ends up being an apprentice of the space ancient. For now she's probably a baby ancient of freedom or something like that, but she might become an ancient of space in the future.

We can also have something like Dan having a core of destruction or Dani being the Speed Force if you want it to be dcxdp, or any headcanon of yours about their cool powers.

And then there's Danny. And yeah, everyone knows that he's super powerful, but also he's just some guy.

It can go different routes. Does everyone know that Danny is just Danny? Or do they think that with siblings (well, technically a clone and an alternate version, but whatever) so powerful, he must be even stronger? Is Danny actually something terrifyingly eldritch and ancient and strong, almost a god, but he just doesn't know himself? Or is he just really some guy?

Now, because it's obvious that I have a dcxdp brainrot, have a regular "JL summons/meets a powerful ghost" but its Dan and Dani, and they keep mentioning their original/brother who won a fight against them at some point. The JL is very concerned about Dan and Dani's godlike powers, and they can't imagine what Danny is like. And then they meet him (in his human form), and it's just a young adult in casual clothes, very friendly and helpful, with no evident powers. Imagine the confusion. Imagine Dan and Dani, radiating power, in their eldritch ghost forms, admitting that fighting Danny for real is the dumbest thing to do and not even they would succeed... And then there's Danny is jeans and silly t-shirt, waving shyly.

[soph-skies]

mianmian, who never had a positive relationship with wwx, PUBLICLY LEAVING HER CLAN because they refused to acknowledge that they are the villains for torturing innocent people and that wwx was only defending those same people and is not a murderous madman. finally someone with principles they actually believe in enough to do something about it!!!

[soupinaboot]

Steve got the Cat Valentine treatment from the fandom. 😐

[murdleandmarot]

The dichotomy of listening to moments of happiness really is just “Oh, I want to live forever” directly followed by “I am going to fucking kill myself.”

[quiiscnt]

@raiiryuu // cont.

༄ ❚❙❘ She found herself fidgeting with her hands as she made the approach and started off the interaction. A quick glance behind her for support turned to disappointment as the girl realized her team mate had stayed behind. Well, out of the two of them, Rayne was the more social and this was her idea. Although it did not make it any easier to approach someone arguably intimidating.

     ❝Oh!! My bad!! Let me introduce myself.❞ Of course she knew who he was, but it was probably wrong for her to assume everyone kept up with the new members, even if this guild was rather close.

     ❝I'm Rayne Lockser, Juvia's sister. I've been actually been in the guild for a bit now but I guess we never had the chance to talk until now.❞ She could feel herself rambling out of nerves and forced it to stop.

[honestlyvan]

(Now on DW!)

One of the joys of a dormant fandom is that I can just show up and prop my feet on the table and start talking about divine horror and how sometimes a computer program is an angel and how humans are obsessed with taking the power of the heavens and putting it in a box for themselves to use.

Like.

God exists and she's a nice girl and she worked hard to be born, but she also has a temper and humans keep trying to put her in a box so she got fed up with it and hid from them. From her mother, she inherited eight powerful champions, and as a reward for their service she left them to roam as they pleased, but when humans couldn't trap her, they chose to trap those champions instead, and put them in a box, except now that box was a human, and that human was meant to take the power of the god that the humans couldn't steal, because humans made the divine realm that god and her angels inhabit and want to control it (as humans do).

And now you've got a bunch of humans who don't know they're being given a box with an angel in it and putting that box in their own bodies, and nobody can really figure out why these angel bodies keep going out of control and driving their hosts to madness, and oh, hey, the mother of god made these champions for a purpose and the humans in the driver seat don't know about that, either, even though the humans who gave them the angel bodies do know about that, because they want to use those angel bodies to make another god.

So congratulations! You're a prophet now! You are being called to do battle for your god, because you've been granted a divine body that has an angel in it, that is an angel. You're being called to do as your nature as an angel requires of you! And the entire time you're just a human, and the thing in your head feels too big for your mortal body, it feels too big for your divine body, and you're just watching things spiral out of control, wondering why you feel like you'd bleed mercury if they scratched you too deep.

[totentnz]

please, i'm curious :3

12. "told 'im to stop buyin me synth flowers. so he started gettin' holo flowers."

from here

12. "told 'im to stop buyin me synth flowers. so he started gettin' holo flowers."

it's from au: everybody wants to rule the world (the collab with @bishicat :3c) in that universe v is "dating" muamar. (its complicated)

when you do the car missions for him you get a box full of stuff right? and at some point he decided to put little presents in for v! she hates it, usually. (once again, its complicated)

oftentimes it's stuff she appreciates like new patches, old tech and other things like that but sometimes he gets a bit too cute with it.

so one day, pretty early on, she takes viv on one of the car gigs because she wants to introduce her to muamar. viv opens the box and is confused at first while v tries to not let her embarrassment show, ofc her friend notices though and teases her a bit about it.

"you didn't tell me ya got a boyfriend!" "he ain't my fuckin' boyfriend." "uh-huh so why is your not-boyfriend buyin' ya flowers?" "told 'im to stop buyin' me synth flowers. so he started gettin' holo flowers." "smart. and adorable." "annoyin' more like."

[twilightterror]

@musesfromthefifthdimension: Charley sent: ❛   it’s a great advantage not to drink among hard drinking people.  ❜

❝Mmm...❞ The starlet hummed, mulling the statement over. ❝I think you're right about that, but that is simply one advantage I do not have. You see, when I'm around drunks I feel compelled to drink more. Can't stand them otherwise.❞

She gave a slight shrug as if to offer an apology for her mindset on that matter, a placid smile on her face. ❝I'm sure I'll be kicking myself for that as the years go on.❞

For once, Carolyn was actually enjoying conversation with a stranger. No being mobbed for autographs or having to listen to someone list every film of hers they'd seen. Just normal conversation. ❝My name is Carolyn, by the way.❞ She said, holding out her hand with a smile. ❝And you are?❞

[sirenofthegreenbanks]

2 + 3 + 12 + 33!!!!

had to fish around to find that ask game again!!!!! also hiiiii better late than never :))) :}}}}} <3 i need to tell u smth abt kleo i have Thoughts (not big thoughts this sounds as if its big it isnt i just reconsidered my initial statement that u might not like iiiiit)

2. anything that you'd like to write but feel that youre unable to??

oh yes!!! so much!!!!! even the things im writing bring me constantly into a situation of hair-tearing-out crying-clawing-screaming hitting-head-against-the-wall. i flip-flop between thinking i cant even write what im writing and thinking that im kinda decent. hhhhh. anyway!!!!!

i want to write a solid longfic with extensive worldbuilding. it doesnt matter the genre, just solid and rich worldbuilding where the writing stays consistent and steady until the end is already good. but if i could specifiy, i yearn for it to be a canon compliant/canon divergence/canon era fic with a unique take on canon. i want to write canon era fics in general, but im always hesitant to. i know what happens when i fall into a research hole, it fires up my anxiety. and i want to write scifi or a cool space opera. and i want to be able to write novel fic (of tyk) and not want to die during the process. all these things feel impossible to me :]]]]]]]]

3. how would u describe ur writing style?

i had to think about this for a bit!!!! because my writing style is unfortunately directly connected to my mental stability which is not always. stable. huehe. hmmmm i think my style (given that im doing good!) leans very hard into economical but evocative storytelling; like, i mean the rhythm of oral storytelling. stream of consciousness. prose poetry. poetry slam. i want the words to explode in your mouth and i want it to paint a very clear image in your head. i want people to hear me telling the story! even if the reader (or listener!) cant be there to experience it for themselves, at least i can tell them about it! thats probably because my first experience with story as a concept comes from audio dramas and generally someone reading something to me. thats honestly still the medium i prefer, tbh.

12. if you write in more than one language, whats the difference?

TvvvvvvT

currently i dont write in more than one language, if u dont count non-fictional handwriting bc i write all my notes in my native language. but i still remember how it used to be to write creatively in german. like im always whining about how difficult it is to cast the same image in english as in german; i just dont have that fine motor control over english as i have over german. i can easily switch between gears in german but english still ,, befuddles me pfft. its most noticable when im mucking around drafting and spend more time thinking about fun stuff like correct grammar and correct sentence structure and which word means what in english, than about the story and the characters. it takes so much energy and effort to think about and of all of this, there is barely any space left for the story that im trying to tell. which is def a major drawback for me and one of the reasons that ive been considering to start writing in german again. even though i have uh some baggage there that i dont really want to face. language is so connected to identity and culture. and thats another reason why english is difficult; i know english, aside from school, mostly from usamerican books or from online interactions with usamericans or people talking usamerican. so that has ofc heavily influenced my own english. like, i set all my stories in germany for reasons, but its stupidly hard to draw up the cultural markers because the language itself that im using is already coming with cultural influences from another country. its really strange and confusing, and i would find it fascinating and interesting if it wasnt so frustrating. sometimes it feels like there is a veil between me and what im trying to say, and also as if my thought patterns dont work as they would because the language that should just be a tool to tell a story is already so dominant. thats def smth i hope to change in the future

33. give your writing a compliment!

hmmm. its very earnest. reading my own stuff, even old stuff, i can tell what sort of struggles made it hard to get smth specific onto the page. and sometimes what ends up on the page is not what was supposed to be there in the first place. but its earnest and i can see that. its always the best i can do in that moment, and its always a piece of me because i give so much of myself during the process. thats not always a good thing but its how i am. im glad the earnestness, the sincerity, the love, the faith, the hope, is so visible to the bare eye.

yet another writing ask

[camelspit]

you dont understand how insane she makes me

[kittlyns]

A hard pill for me to swallow lately has been that, despite everything, I'm probably the best version of myself that could've existed. And that's not really a comforting thought.

[shisasan]

"Take The World" She Wants Revenge

[crttvset]

bruh i jjst had the funniest thought ever like imagine jotaro zooming with his students during the pandemic

[kenntoria]

synopsis ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ you talk about your husband like he is a dream and, frankly, your coworkers think that you are making him up. that is until your husband shows up.

you talked about your husband all the time.

nanami this nanami that

“oh, my husband makes the best lunchboxes”

“he stayed up to help me with my report”

“he walks me to the station when i stay late”

you weren’t annoying about it. not really. just a little too consistent. always saying things like “he’ll pick me up after work today, we’re going to get pastries!” and showing off texts that made your coworkers tilt their heads and squint.

kento nanami sounded fake.

a little too nice. a little too attentive.

and when you tacked on the fact that he was hot — “blond, tall, glasses, kinda quiet but really handsome, you know?” — people at work started to think that maybe you were pulling everyone’s leg.

just a little.

not out of malice — no, never that — but maybe you were lonely. maybe you just needed a sweet little fantasy to get you through the day. who could blame you?

because no way someone like nanami existed. not the way you described him. it just didn’t sound real. not in this world. not in this economy.

but you never let up.

you beamed like a lovesick fool when your phone lit up with his name. you refused to make afterwork plans on fridays because that was “friday pasta night with kento.” you sighed wistfully every time someone so much as mentioned a bakery and then whispered, “kento always remembers my favorite,” like you were in some fairytale.

you weren’t smug about it either. it was just… relentless. like you were trying to manifest it into reality.

and maybe it would’ve stayed harmless water cooler gossip — “hey, what do you think her husband actually looks like?” or “maybe it’s just her roommate who makes all the food?” — if you hadn’t mentioned that he’d be picking you up from work one day soon.

“he’s on leave,” you’d said, head bent over a spreadsheet, smiling to yourself. “wants to take me out for dinner. he’ll be here early. maybe you’ll see him.”

you said it innocently. with that dreamy lilt you always got when his name was on your tongue.

but that set off everyone.

bets were placed. theories floated. some said he’d never show. others swore they’d catch you whispering to your reflection in the hallway like a crazy person. one guy from accounting said he saw you with a facetime open to a picture of a k-pop idol and he swore it was nanami. it was all harmless. mostly.

people just didn’t believe it.

until the elevator doors slid open.

and nanami stepped out.

he wore a tan wool coat, fitted slacks, button-up half undone at the throat — all that fine-tuned, elegant masculinity that seemed sculpted into place. hair slicked back, wristwatch glinting, and an expression that was all quiet restraint, the kind that turned heads on instinct.

and his eyes — sharp, deep, familiar — scanned the room once, then softened the moment he saw you.

“you ready, sweetheart?” he asked.

your coworkers went silent.

someone dropped their pen.

you lit up instantly. grinned, grabbed your bag, waved at everyone with a cheery, “see you tomorrow!” like this wasn’t the most monumental moment of vindication in the history of your office.

nanami took your coat from you before you even shrugged it off fully. guided you with a hand on the small of your back. leaned in and brushed a kiss to your temple so naturally that your coworker audibly gasped.

he glanced up then. noticed the sea of frozen faces.

“good evening,” he said politely, like he didn’t just obliterate the collective doubt of your entire floor with one gentle peck.

you left with him. smiling, chatting, looping your arm through his as he opened the door and held it for you.

and behind you — a stunned, stunned silence.

“…so,” someone whispered, finally. “that was nanami?”

“the nanami?” another croaked.

“that man’s real?”

“she wasn’t even exaggerating,” came the hollow, awe-struck reply. “she was under-selling him.”

and in the elevator, nanami turned to you and smiled, faint but amused. “you were right,” he murmured, “they really didn’t believe i existed.”

you snorted and leaned into his side. “i told you. now they’ll think i made you in a lab.”

“i wouldn’t be bothered by that,” he said, tugging you closer, kissing your knuckles as the doors closed. “you did a perfect job, if so.”

[gallusrostromegalus]

So it's national Recreational Explosives, Hand Loss and Wildfire day, and unlike 2023, there is nary a drop of rain in sight.

Despite being slapped upside the head by God, my put technically inclined neighbor has acquired TWO pallets of fireworks this year.

The state is of no help: my city police department has made it pretty clear they don't intend to respond to any fireworks calls this weekend. I've sent the pictures I took to the county tipline and received and automated email reply saying that it will take several weeks to process my case. Perhaps he will get jail time later, but this does not actually you know. Stop him from setting the neighborhood ablaze. Going up to his door the week prior and very politely asking him to move- not cancel, just relocate - his celebrations was met with calling me a "nosy bitch" and "I'll set one off in your ass!".

Sometimes God needs us to make our own miracles.

My miracle comes with several layers, and plenty of opportunities to back down without losing face. We'll see how many are needed.

The first wave has already been deployed: a psyop directed at the Visiting Mother In Law of the miscreant.

I got up at 8:30 AM this morning to make sure I'd be in the front yard of my house, casually doing yardwork with Herschel. His participation was essential.

For those of you who are new here, Herschel is the world's most charming Cardigan Welsh Crime Tube, who thinks everyone in the world is his best friend and that people come to the house to see him specifically. So at 9:04 AM when the visiting mother-in-law appeared around the corner on her daily power-walk around the block, Herschel employed his natural Corgi instinct to make friends with everyone and cheerfully tossed himself on the sidewalk in front of her, belly up for expected tummy rubs.

"OH AREN'T YOU DARLING!!" My target coos, kneeling down to pat him while he makes him like snuffling noises of glee. She is at least 70. I think her bright pink leg warmers and terrycloth headband might be original from her jazzercise days.

"I'm so sorry! Herschel you're going to trip people doing that!" I apologize, going up to greet the woman. "I'm [REDACTED], I don't think we've met..?"

"No, I'm just visiting my daughter and her family- my name is Barbara. And who is this?" She asks Herschel, whose whole back end is waggling with glee.

"This is my service dog Herschel." I explain while he rolls around on the pavement. "I just wanted him to get some time outside before the pyrotechnics start."

"Oh. Yes." Barbra grumbles and I know I've got her. "My son-in-law is planning something extravagant." She says with such disdain it practically comes out of her nose. This is a woman who loves her daughter and dearly wishes she married someone, anyone else.

"Yeah, he got rained out and sick the last two years, so I think he's compensating." I agree.

"Oh he's definitely overcompensating!" Barbra spits, then shakes her whole body like a dog. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't complain. You said he's a service dog?"

I go for it.

"Yeah! I have... Neurological problems." I say and that is technically true. "I've um. Lost a lot of things, like a sense of time, or appetite, and his job is to remind me to eat or take my meds or alerts that I'm having an episode. My personal dog-tor!" I say, patting his adorable little head, and he leans on me, equally adoring.

"Oh, is that why-?" Barbra starts to ask, gesturing at the top of her head, but stops herself.

I hadn't planned this, but yesterday I'd shaved my head to deal with the heat and now only have a quarter inch of hair, which doesn't really hide the scars from when I got run over by a minivan. They're bright red with the heat and exertion of yard work.

I decide I'm okay with lying to a stranger to prevent my house from being set ablaze.

I sort of... Crumple to the ground and drop the rake I was holding, and Herschel immediately climbs into my lap to comfort me as I start to cry.

"Oh my God." Says Barbra.

"I'm sorry!" I gasp, tears streaming down my face. I've been stressed and this is honestly very cathartic. "I'm sorry to dump on you, I'm just so scared-!"

"Oh my God. It's bad." Barbra realizes.

"D- do you know what-" a pause as Herschel tries to manually clear my nostrils like a good service dog. "-oh, Herschel... It's - do you know what an astrocytoma* is?"

*An astrocytoma is a type of brain tumor.

Barbra turns white and sits down next to me. "I'm so sorry... I- one of my friends from church had one, it was agony but she's alright now!" She tries to reassure me.

"It hurts! Everything hurts all the time!" I sob. "And- and I'm scared, so he's scared and I feel bad for hi which just makes it worse and then there's the-" I gesture at the sky. "I have surgery in a month to remove as much of it as they can and do biopsies to see if I need radiation too but..."

"-but all that noise must be Hell on you and your doggy." Barbra nods.

"It'd be fine if he went down to the lake of something but, that house's driveway is like, a hundred feet from my bedroom, I can't sleep and it TERRIFIES Herschel..." I whimper pathetically.

"Well. I may be able to do something about that." Barbra decides.

"Oh no, I don't want to intrude!" I mock-protest.

"No, we're the ones intruding dear. I'll have words with him." She growls. I get the impression she's been waiting for an excuse To Have Words With Him.

"Th-thank you. Um. It's getting hot and I'm a mess, we should probably go inside..." I mutter and Barbra very kindly helps me and Herschel to the front door and tells me she'll be by later with watermelon as we wave goodbye.

From the porch, I watch her furiously power-walk back to her daughter's house, wrench open the front door, and issue a battle cry of "HEN-RY!!!" before it slams behind her.

Now I realize that this may not have been the most honest or ethical thing to do, but I figured it's more polite and ethical than the next step, which is chemical warfare, courtesy of Bath & Body Works :)

[habitina]

there's something deeply inadequate about me that she used to get along with, right? it's the. immoral sense of the self. i think. please wave at me at the bus station again i will wave back