#anyways sorry to anyone who possibly sees this
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every night I consider pulling an all nighter, already going to bed too late to not be tired in the morning
#anyways sorry to anyone who possibly sees this#doesn’t help that I utterly fucked up my sleep schedule over break#staying up till 4 am by accident the past 2 nights#also doesn’t help that the thought of going yo sleep is making me anxious ~again~#I shouldn’t be complaining it was much much worse last semester#I also fucked up my eating schedule#and I’ve only been having like 2 meals a day#so now I’m hungry late at night but I also don’t have the drive to make food#plus I’ve already brushed my teeth so I can’t eat anyway#thinking about hopping onto mc#but that’d probably just make it worse#or tire me out faster and force me to sleep#I should probably schedule a second therapy appointment to actually sort this out maybe#see I have no issues with naps#I hate napping but falling asleep like that doesn’t stress me out#it’s the fucking going to bed at night that makes me nervous#and I hate it cause I need 7-8 hours to run at (near) full capacity#but noooo I somehow can never force myself to bed at a fucking reasonable time#also I’ve started actively seeking out fanfiction again#which is always a sure sign that things are gonna go downhill
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I enjoy Mickbell as a character but WHAT is up with the propaganda going on about lately. He and Kuro aren’t just people who don’t know how to communicate but secretly mutually respect each other. And Kuro definitely Mick’s older brother or dad. He might think is. But Mickbell is 4 year older than Kuro, and he comes from a race that ages faster. Kuro doesn’t speak common or have enough context to understand or easily learn that Mickbell is an adult.
Like imagine if it turned out that the troubled 17-year-old paying you in scooby snacks turned out to actually a 30-year-old man.
#like. I think the layers to them are interesting and it’s not all like Evil Mickbell or anything#but it sure as hell is exploitative#and it’s frustrating to see that downplayed#anyway sorry I don’t mean to vagueblog I don’t think that anyone who frames them that way is terrible it’s just. yeah.#esp since all this info comes from extra materials so it’s really easy for it to get distorted as it’s passed along#….. honestly it’s occuring to me in writing this that it’s possible the rest of the party doesn’t actually know how old mickbell is either#WILD IF TRUE
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Thinking about rotg being a world and time beyond goc, where the Guardians— perhaps individually, perhaps in pairs— have connected with Pitch in some manner. Made peace with him, in a way. A few of them have even discussed offering him Guardianship, despite the fact that they as a group were created to fight the fearlings he surrounds himself with. Children need some healthy fear to survive, after all. That may be something that needs to be guarded. Maybe one of them did talk about it with him- and he turned them down.
Thinking about Guardians who maybe didn’t try as hard as they could, but certainly tried more than nothing, to give a chance to Pitch. Guardians who, by the events of the movie, had accepted that it just wasn’t what Pitch wanted. Oh, he wanted to be believed in, but he wanted more than healthy fear, more than children. So the Guardians fight— but one not-Guardian doesn’t quite… get it. He thought they were similar, him and Pitch. He’s not bad, just extreme.
Thinking about having to explain that Pitch could certainly change, could certainly help people— but he didn’t want to.
#disclaimer: I’ve been avoiding reading the fifth book (heard some mixed reviews). I have it but. not read yet#sorry I know this isn’t how I normally run this blog but I’m having some thoughts tonight and wanted to share#pitch black#rotg#goc#rise of the guardians#guardians of childhood#there’s a lot I left out- like seraphina and kizmotis and whatnot. but I often see ‘fear is useful! they just fight him’ but hey?#I think it’s v possible that the guardians have tried. pitch just literally doesn’t want to change and that’s why they fight#maybe I just like a villian who knows there’s a better way but actively chooses worse#anyways does anyone want to talk to me abt it.
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#so what do you do when you keep fucking everything up. and you cant possibly imagine a life#where anything actually happens. or a life at all. none of this is real. but im not allowed to kms#where i cant be anything close to fucking normal til i chug whiskey in the kitchen and can barely see straight#but still everyone reassures me that im doing fine bc they know people thatve been wilder. so really does it matter?#where i dont think i could surprise anyone unless i drove off a bridge#so really why does it fucking matter? i cant ask for help and hell- it doesnt fucking matter what i do#all i can think is that this is a fucking mistake. i shouldnt have even have lived this long. but now!!!!! im on a fucking toddler leash#so all i can do is drink until it feels real and fucking cry!!!!! but who even cares!!!!!!#ive been playing this fucking role for so god damn long#but nobody even notices when i stop. so why does it fucking matter??#god im sorry. im so sorry. i wish i could just tell everyone im so fucking sorry#whatever. ill delete this anyway. i always do. c'est la vie
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up next on chapter 36 of idol sengen… _(:3 」∠)_
#(my toxic trait is that i’ll complain about my work endlessly but still end up doing it anyway… eventually.)#there’s rant 1 (ft. a need to deduce what asuna is saying in full) and rant 2 (which is available in full but still…)#there’s also another mona-rambling session in chapter 38… that im not touching with a 50 foot pole#(all you need to know for that mona-rambling [about frusu] is that mona’s frusu oshi is all of them)#(and that she thinks miyu is like *the* pinnacle of centres in idol groups)#(also someone won a junior dance competition but idk who bc it’s obscured lmao)#can i outsource these panels for a corn chip lmaoooo#m. maybe i should’ve actually worked on this while i was still unemployed last month huh…#bc excuse me company wdymmmmmm im starting work next monday?? the interview was just this monday hello?#ig the interviewer was legit when she said ‘so if i asked you if you can start work next monday—’ huh…#sigh… maybe ch 36 next month then… i’ll do my best over the weekend thoughhhhh#seriously though why is this volume so text heavy l m a o i really wanna get to chapter 40 but…#and then there’s the hard to clean text boxes which… aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa#…though i guess i should just count myself lucky that the chapters are still short enough to fit into a single post (with the image limits)#but dang. i just realised that my manga sengen thing has a page on manga updates lmao#who put it there lmaooooo and why is it only up till vol 2? wait. no. what. why does it link to manga.dex#bc dang. someone really had the time to dl the thing image by image? no wonder why they stopped after vol 2…#guess i might as well say why i dont want people to reupload my tls… since we’re in the final stretch and all#so. aside from the obvious ‘idw the creators to find out about it’… i probably made a ton of mistakes while tling it. esp in the early chaps#so i’d like to. y’know. have the chance to update the tls where possible. i’ve done that a couple of times already tbh.#like with rippei’s name post-vol 4 release. and some of the typesetting is p. gross in the early chaps tbvh#i swear tling idol sengen has made me incredibly conscious of grammar and typesetting like you wouldnt believe#esp with official tls… fan tls will always be perfect to me no matter how wonky the wording bc it’s hard but honest work yk#official tls (esp a.i tls) get no concessions from me bc it’s their job that they’re getting paid to do yk.#in any case (if you’ve read this far) if you see any mistakes in the tl please lemme know~~~ please dont hold back on your criticisms ok~~~?#just sound ‘em out in dms here or sth. don’t worry~~~ i won’t eat y’all if you try to correct me~~~~~ unless you’re the md reuploader (jk)#and ik i disabled comments on the other blog (or tried to at least) but that’s bc idw bots to flood the comments bc that’s annoying as he—#anyways sorry for the idol sengen wait (if anyone was waiting for it…) i’ll improve on my work ethic… tomorrow. maybe.
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Ya know. I spent most of my life with horrible painful soul-crushing social anxiety.
And after about 25 years of continuous hard work, suddenly, people started pointing out - to my utter bafflement - that I had, in fact, achieved my lifelong dream of being charismatic. I'm 29 now; I feel comfortable in most social situations, and it is a very rare person whom I cannot make laugh.
I am, undoubtedly, finally, charismatic.
But do you know what I found?
I found that now that I have an understanding of which social rules serve which functions -- Now that I have an understanding of just how much damage my awkwardness was doing to people, well,
I found that, actually, my awkwardness never really hurt anyone at all. People were just judgmental dicks to me about it.
Now that I have the skill-level to (most of the time) creatively vocalize what is in my head as soon as I think it and without fear, I can confirm once and for all what I had always suspected:
I was worth talking to when I was quiet.
I was worth talking to when I was awkward, and when the words in my head took time and patience to hear, and when most of my jokes didn't land. I was worth talking to the whole time.
So I just... I hope that if you've ever wondered whether you are worth communicating with, the answer is yes. Absolutely yes. Each of us has a soul worth sharing - and if you and I were talking, I would happily wait for you to speak (or communicate in other ways) without condescending, and I would never shame you for that harmless awkwardness that so many people feel the need to violently stomp out.
You are worth talking to. You just are. And you deserve people who will speak to you with kindness, with patience, and with the basic immutable respect owed to all people.
(I talk about this with some frequency, both on tumblr and in real life. At some point, maybe I'll gather all my thoughts on the matter into one post. At some point, I wrote about my personal experience trying to build my social skill. But I felt the need to say at least a little bit tonight after seeing this other lovely post, and I'm glad I did. It will happen again.)
#original#social anxiety#autism#that one post#actually autistic#self-diagnosis is valid - in case that last tag implies otherwise to anyone. i think it just denotes i am an autistic and not just an ally.#social skills#socially awkward#socially anxious#autistic positivity#autism positivity#like actually genuinely who does it hurt if i tell a joke that doesn't land? esp if the joke is not about another person#this is not a live comedy show this is life ya gotta learn to say 'ah well they can't all be golden!'#which btw is a line i use when my own jokes don't land and it usually plays pretty well actually. i've got a higher hit rate but#genuinely they just can't all be good! anyway i go into that in the post linked at the end there i think#people can tell when you're not sure of yourself socially and a lot of folks instinctively use that against you. and i am here to say that#it's fucked up that they are doing that and they need to step off actually. imagine getting to decide on which social cues are#acceptable and then using that power to be unkind. fuckin gross. i regret so deeply each time in my life i have made that choice.#being a kid who is abused like that so often it was eager to power trip when i met kids more awkward than myself. but it was wrong#and i regret it. and i am proud to say i haven't done that in a long time and instead when i find myself with that power i try to say#actually what do YOU want? to the people shyer than me.#i'm pretty rad now is what i'm saying lol#like all the ways that having a good social stat has improved my life just made me realize what bullshit it is that this was necessary#doing what I did is not desirable or possible for everyone. they deserve just as much out of life as i do.#side note: i think I've actually surpassed a lot of neurotypicals who had never even had to think about social rules 🤣.#like I feel no competition with other people who have struggled socially but now that I'm more charming than people who were dicks to me#I do feel like fuck you!! I win!!!! I can finally see enough of the full picture to say that your arbitrary rules were FUCKING ARBITRARY#I'm also aware of the fact that not everyone finds me charismatic but i am. in all the ways that matter to me. and I'm still growing!#note to future jack: you did save these posts in your notes app on the day this was written.#tbh i am often still awkward i am just not sorry anymore if i'm not hurting ppl. 'confident and awkward' really throws 'em for a loop! XD
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NOT okay right now im thinking abt pokemon leaving scars on their trainers + everyday, domestic problems.....
#this is abt my top gun au btw <3333 which will forever haunt me even though im less likely to write it everyday </3333#like.....getting thin scars from rowlet as a kid which have now all basically faded to time#(though the ones gained as a teen from dartrix can still be seen)#while in the other hand always having angry red scratches along both arms because hes always holding up rufflet who fights like no tomorrow#(believe me; its better to hold him up and take the damage than put him down and let rufflet pick a fight with someone)#OR like....getting electrical burns because elekid doesnt know how to control its discharge yet. and the scars that stay bc of that#(which tbh is an ash + pikachu thing i would love to see)#or how one accidental poison jab from toxicroak will leave you utterly sick for days#(like serious he should probably go to a hospital or smth) and toxi just has the biggest saddest puppy dog eyes in existence it feels so ba#(its fine this has happened before he'll be fine. probably)#bruisings on your shins bc pawmot punches your legs to grab your attention or to get smth it wants....#rooms always being like ten to twenty degrees colder (or even more) when he has his ice pokemon out for whatever reason...#the reverse of that with fire types..... ough...#having to BEG flygon not to fly rn bc it starts a sandstorm every fucking time and it does it anyway#(PLEASE i took you out of your ball to eat dinner why cant yiu behave this one time)#and then dragonair fixing it to be clear skies again.....the never ending cycle....#any trainer who have pokemon that start sandstorm needing a pair of safety goggles for when they battle#(maybe even bringing a spare just in case or--if theyre kind enough--for their opponent to wear so they can see too)#dont even get me started on mythical pokemon interacting with the tg characters.....#anyway tried to stay as vague as possible for the characters lolol#bergmite is just a lil guy who wants to be carried around like all the other small 'mons....i am so sorry sweetie you are over 200 pounds#you cannot be perched on your trainers shoulder like someone else's rufflet can#having ice burns bc froslass tried to freeze him.....#anyway. can you tell i love pokemon#sorry to anyone who sees this in the pokemon tag </333#delete later#i feel like im begging on my knees for someone to ask abt my au....but also if they did id die of embarrassment from answering it...#the pros and cons of having a dumb little au </3#sigh maybe one day i'll write a fic... (<-keeps saying it but has written nothing for it (yet))
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that one trope where Character A has been missing for years, almost believed to be dead, until suddenly coming back, much to the relief and happiness of all their friends and family. Except for Character B, who is more than terrified about A's return. But for whatever reason, B can't let anyone know why they feel the way they do about A's return
#sorry i'm insane guys i'm having a moment#like it can go a lot of ways i thinks#because it can go ways where Character A is malicious. or Character B is.#like maybe before their disappearance. A was secretly violent or otherwise hurtful to B#OR B was the one to make A disappear. but they can't let anyone know that#OR EVEN FURTHER!!!! if you wanna get really freaky with it-#Character A really WAS dead. and B was the only person who knew for years#whatever reason B may have for keeping A's death a secret. there's a much bigger problem of. how is A back#can you imagine having to witness the sudden death of someone else- having their corpse burned into your memory#only to see them again standing right in front of you. alive and well. doing just dandy#and you can't even give the slightest hint about how much that scares you#CAN YALL TELL WHICH OF THESE SCENARIOS I LIKE THE MOST LMAO#anyway. revive your characters but in the worst way possible. alls i'm saying
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doing really bad in ways i can’t talk about which is making it worse
#just cancelled a meeting so i could cry in the office LMAOOOOOOO 🥰👍#purrs#the mortifying ordeal of my therapist being on her honeymoon rn 😹😹😹😹😹#i think i am just a bad person and my needs hurt people who need me. and it’s not fair to them and idont know what to do with that.#i think i may have to move out sooner than i am ready to and not listen to anyone telling me to keep waiting. this is not sustainable. it’s#not sustainable for my family because i hurt them with my needs. and it’s not sustainable for me to be unable to need and get what i need#without hurting them. i think what’s so hard about this is that i have to do it alone and everyone is against me doing it but i have to do#it anyway. i don’t know. i don’t want my sister to see this and get hurt. if you do see this im sorry i can’t be what you need. im sorry my#needs hurt you. but they’re needs. i have to be selfish even though my brain is screaming at me in your voice that i don’t. i just need to#escape it all. i am allowed to need independence and alone time and im sorry i was cruel about asserting it but i need to assert it and no#one at home understands why but I need to. im not talking coherently i just feel so wretched and sick to my stomach with guilt and grief and#frustration and shame and i have to facilitate a huge session in an hour and a half.#delete later#like my friends / mutuals / mentors / etc can tell me until they’re blue in the face that i am not a bad person and i deserve to live an#independent Life etc etc but none of you are actually in my house and you don’t see how it is and how i am the cause of all of it and how im#stuck and making things worse. and i can’t summon my strength or calm down or anything. i don’t know. i have to get ready for the session i#just can’t even think straight. my family is right and i am also right and i can’t assert my rightness over theirs. so im stuck forever.#if i could i would leave work early and go home but there’s no one to take me home and home is actually the worst possible place to be#right now LOLLLLL. i just need to curl into a bed and cry. also im about to get my period so thats probably why im like this lol
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I feel like life series fanon jimmy is kind of mischaracterized and there’s an easy way to make sure you’re doing it right: he has a lot of unearned confidence
#the tags is where I’m going to ACTUALLY say stuff LOL!!!#but like I love life series Jimmy mkay. he’s got that curse of dying first and all. which is what I mean by fanon cuz curses aren’t real#but a lot of fans make it like Jimmy accepts the curse? or even acknowledges that it’s real. which bugs me a bit cuz No He Does Not#(side note tho. I’m not mad about it. I know ppl wanna explore the concept of someone cursed to die first and that’s what they’re doing)#but like Jimmy would just be so in denial about it okay. even if you managed to convince him he would be like ‘..BUT SURELY THIS TIME’#and this relates to ranchers too. I love ranchers ok. mostly cuz my sister does tbh LMAOO she loves them. but ranchers fan content isn’t#what I’m looking for cuz it’s so often stuff like.. Jimmy being like ‘I’m sorry I’m cursed’ and Tango being like ‘it’s ok love u anyway’#but it’s really more like ‘CURSED?? NO! WE WILL WIN!’ which I think is MORE fun for the aftermath of their death. meeting in the afterlife.#I NEED to see ranchers content where they keep denying that the curse is real then Jimmy dies and they’re ghosts or whatever and Jimmy’s#like ‘oh no. we didn’t break the curse. tango probably hates me now. he only liked me cuz we thought the curse wasn’t real.’ and tango to be#like upset at first as anyone would be when they die. but then he like notices the way Jimmy is acting and he’s like ‘no.. ranchers 4 life’#???? what am I saying. hire me for writing fanfic I totally know what I’m doing.#anyways what I’m saying is Jimmy is the canary but he’s the canary that’s like ‘SURELY I can sing for the miners the whole way THIS time’#he is NOT the canary who says ‘WELL time to eventually stop singing in this cave’#HOWEVER I do think that although he has loads of unearned confidence and is in a constant state of denial. he does also have that crumble#sometimes. so it’s not totally ooc imo for him to act like that. but it would be rare moments and also mostly post death#ANOTHER SIDE NOTE I WANNA SAY. I HATE the way I’m saying this as if it’s fact. it’s my personal analysis and just because I think it’s right#doesn’t mean I want to present it as undeniable fact. I could be misinterpreting. if you want to interpret life!Jimmy’s character different#then go on ahead. I don’t hate fanon Jimmy I just wish I saw more like how I see him. that is all.#ok I lied I also wanna add that I’m bad at explaining things ESPECIALLY personalities so it’s possible that I didn’t convey what I wanted to#say properly too. sorry. OKAY NOW THAT IS ALL.
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so we know that the admins sided with dante during the resistance. and now we know that shen was the one pulling the strings behind dante, we're still not sure exactly what he did but we know that he was above dante
so do you think the admins ACTUALLY sided with dante and his beliefs, or did they have some reason to stay on shen's good side. is shen powerful enough to threaten the admins 👀
#i dont think i posted this here i think i left it on priv. if you're seeing this again tho sorry lol#anyways. GOD COULD YOU IMAGINE#THE ADMINS DESPERATELY WANTING TO SAY THEY DONT WANNA BE HERE THEY DONT WANNA BE AGAINST THEIR OWN PLAYERS#BUT THEY HAVE NO CHOICE. THERE'S SO MUCH DANGER IN THEM SAYING NO#THEY HAVE TO DO THIS. THEY'RE PRAYING TECHNO CAN WIN. THEY KNOW EVERYONE WILL HATE THEM AFTERWARDS#BUT THEY HAVE TO DO THIS FOR EVERYONE'S BENEFIT#THEY'RE WILLING TO PUT THEMSELVES IN THE LINE OF FIRE OF THEIR OWN FRIENDS AND FAMILY TO SAVE EVERYONE HERE HELLOOOOO CAN ANYONE HEAR ME#IT HAS SOOOOOOOOOOO MUCH POTENTIAL <333#dante having no choice in anything he did still messes with my head WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE NEVER HAD ANY FREE WILL.#HE WAS HIRED. FORCED TO BE HERE? POSSIBLY *CREATED* FOR THE SOLE PURPOSE OF TAKING OFFICE???#MAN. WE LOVE MEN WHO ARE NOTHING BUT A WEAPON#chat#sb#sb lore#rising sun
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do some people really think he's not sorry at all
#⋯ ꒰ა starry thoughts ໒꒱ *·˚#⋯ ꒰ა milgram ໒꒱ *·˚#part of me can't say anything truly bcs hi haven't listened to drama audios but HELL some of you ......... <//3#i think voting him guilty would be really hypocritical of the viewers tbh#and aside from that. man people really don't understand characters like him for real#there's of couse more to it than one sees in the video and everything but yeah based off my intuition ^^#this is like how some people didn't expect kotoko to go after those who were voted guilty... i am late to the series but#i even saw that coming from a mile away <//3#no offense to anyone btw! i just find it really frustrating. anyways. fuuta innocent#tbh i have mixed feelings on joining with the whole innocent/guilty thing bcs it makes us the same as. yeah?#but ultimately i care about justice and this is all fictional yeah but i still do (to a certain extent. and milgram fits in that)#ughhgbejagjhajab i'm not saying all my thoughts bcs i find it hard to put into words but yeah!!!#i don't think many understand his character which is just so incredibly frustrating to me. sobbing#this is like w emet and zenos .............. why do characters i like often get so misunderstood#but tbh maybe i'm in the wrong. i don't want to cross out that possibility#but my yeahs are telling me that yeah. sorry i can't explain but YEAH. yeah#fuuta kajiyama
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GUESS WHO’S BACK! this time, with a slightly different take on the prompt 🤣 Bio!Dad Bruce, Siblings Danny and Damian!! I know I said I was going to do twin!Damian, but it just fit better this way I think. I told you this prompt really gripped me, so please enjoy even more words on it!!
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Look. The only excuse Danny can give is that he's tired, alright? He's so, so tired. Matchsticks propping up his eyelids kind of tired. Five quiet seconds away from face planting into the ground kind of tired. Mistake the coat rack for his mom again kind of tired.
Beat this ghost into the ground if he doesn't put him back in his bedroom so he can finish his homework and finally get some sleep kind of tired.
Seriously, what the hell? He'd only just gotten back to his room after souping the fifth ectopus of the night (apparently there was some sort of migration happening and it just happened to coincide with the worst case of homework overload he's had since freshman year) when he was enveloped in a swirling mess of green and deposited in an ectoplasmic cage in some random ghost's lair. It's just not fair! If it doesn't rain, it pours, and the only constant in life is that Danny doesn’t ever seem to have an umbrella.
So, when Danny looks down and sees that he's still clutching his textbook and homework packet to his chest, and then looks around to see a few more cages containing a few more blurry looking people all milling around and banging on the ectoplasm in confusion, sees the ghost up the front in the middle of a monologue that Danny just knows is going to take forever, he does the only reasonable thing he can think of.
He does his homework.
Yes, he knows he's meant to be a hero, he knows he's meant to be helping these people escape, but come on! He's also an overworked high school student with several deadlines and a dwindling amount of detentions he can get before exclusion, so what choice does he really have?
The ghost doesn't even feel all that powerful, maybe on par with Boxy? He's got a sense for these things now—an annoyance metre, rather than his normal ghost sense—and from the weak pulse of ectoplasm surrounding him, the cheesy Sigmund Freud-looking therapist getup, and the very fact that he's still monologuing, Danny just knows. More annoying to deal with than an actual oh-shit-the-world-is-ending kind of problem. He could take this guy in his sleep.
Or, more accurately, he could take this guy on close to three hours of snatched sleep for the entire week.
So, sue him. He's using this time as independent study. He's doing his homework and there's nothing this smarmy, two-bit Doctor Phil ghost can do to stop him.
Actually, please don't sue him, Danny has this all in hand, he promises. As soon as he hears the other hostages make a sound, he'll abandon his homework and he'll soup the guy. Just let him do most of it first, please!
Decision made, Danny settles down and cracks open his textbook. Math time!
Hey, so turns out, math fucking sucks.
It's not long before Danny thinks this whole thing was a stupid idea and he kinda wishes he would just get expelled. Give him something broken and he’ll fix it. Give him a lab and some scrap metal and he’s pretty sure he can build whatever, just like his parents.
Getting these numbers into the right answer, however? Impossible! How in the name of all that is dead is he meant to do this?
He's sitting cross-legged on the floor of his cage, textbook split open and the pages from his packet scattered messily around him, head in his hands, when he hears a knock on his cage. A shiver rolls through him as a rush of ectoplasm powers through the walls, lighting it up in a pale glowing green.
“What? What do you want?” he grumbles, not even looking up. “Because if it’s not an easy explanation for the quadratic formula, I don’t wanna know.”
“Are you doing your homework?” The ghost’s voice is incredulous and Danny can feel him swoop down to the floor to get a closer look, but whatever, he still doesn’t look up. Instead, he focuses on trying to put the numbers into some semblance of order. “You should be concentrating on my game!”
“Oh, man, ordinarily I’d be so into blowing off my homework for whatever game you’ve got cooking, but if I get one more detention I’m pretty sure Mom will actually succeed in killing me and I don’t fancy going through that again, you feel?”
“Excuse me? I don’t think you understand the kind of position you’re putting your—”
“You have to do brackets before multiplication, right? But you’ve got to make it balance on both sides of the equation, so that means I’ve got to… Wait, no, balancing equations is something different, isn't it? Ancients, this is so fucked, where’s my calculator…”
The cage rocks back with the force of the ghost’s fists and Danny has to scramble to keep all of his scraps of paper in some sort of order.
“Dude! What the hell?”
“Answer my question so we can carry on with the game.” The ghost hisses, his face pressed up against the glass walls of the cage.
Danny rolls his eyes. He’s trying to answer his own questions, thank you very much! Perhaps he should just bust out, end this quickly and get back home. At least there he’d have access to the internet—and more importantly, Tucker’s answers. To compare, not to cheat, of course.
“Fine, what’s your question?”
“You weren’t listening? Do you even care about this at all?”
“All I care about right now is finishing my homework and getting back home at least an hour before my alarm goes off. So unless you can promise me that, I'm going to fight you now and finish off my homework in peace."
“Fight me? At least threatening bodily harm is something you all have in common. Please, you’re all stuck in there until this game ends, whether you like it or not.” The ghost sneers against the cage in what he probably thinks is an intimidating display of teeth, but instead just has Danny realising that he’s not brushed his own in two days. He's been so tired, he's not had time. It's still gross, though. “Answer the questions and you’ll be able to go home lickety-split.”
“Yeah, alright, whatever—as long as I get to answer my own questions, too. X doesn’t solve itself, you know.” As much as he wishes it did.
“Fine. I suppose this isn’t a test for you, anyway.”
Okay, well, at least it seems like Danny’s just a pawn and not an actual player in whatever kind of game this is. He’s not sure how he feels about that—actually, scratch that, yes he does. It’s really fucking nice to not be the one that’s one fuck up away from losing everything.
Mind you, he’s still not off the hook for it, yet. Obviously, he’ll still be keeping an ear out for anything going wrong, but what’s the harm in letting it play out a little longer? At least he’ll get some more work done.
“Fine.” Danny parrots. “What’s your question?”
“What’s your name?”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“What’s your name?”
“You don’t know who I am?”
Huh. It’s not often that happens anymore. Weird.
Instead of giving him any answer, the ghost just whips around and cackles as he flies off towards the centre of the room. The glow of his cage dies down as the supply of ectoplasm dwindles and he finally takes a proper look around.
“Did you hear that? Did you hear the shock in his voice, did you see the betrayal in his eyes? You don’t know who he is!”
The ghost is swirling around a podium in the middle of the room, mocking the person in a voice that pierces Danny’s eardrums and stabs directly into his brain. Great, he’s entered the blinding headache stage of tired. He squints and rubs his eyes, but the heavy, blurring tiredness doesn’t leave.
He gives up on trying to guess who the hulking figure in the middle is. All he can assume is that he’s the reason they’re all here, what with the five or six other cages surrounding placed facing him.
Look, it’s unreasonable to ask Danny to do maths and hero work, let him just pick one thing to focus on.
“That’s your first point lost, I’m afraid! Let’s keep going, shall we? The questions are going to get a little harder now, good luck…”
With that, the ghost flies over to the first cage and poses another question. “When is his birthday?”
There’s barely any hesitation from the man on the podium who gives his answer as “March 20th,” with a confident growl. It's pretty impressive, to be fair. Danny can’t remember what date his own birthday is half the time, let alone anyone else’s.
To be fair, Danny has two birthdays, so it's doubly hard.
He doesn't forget.
The first birthday, the one he celebrates, is the day he found the Fentons. He tells them he doesn't know his actual birthday and they believe him, so every April 3rd they celebrate the day he came into their lives.
Or, at least, they do in theory. The Fentons aren't great at remembering birthdays either.
He reserves his true birthday for remembering where he came from. For mourning the life he left behind, the family, his brother. And when the day is over, he pushes it aside and carries on with his completely normal life as best he can.
Which is what he’s doing now. Carrying on with his life as best he can. Doing his homework.
When this stupid game finally finishes, he’ll get transported back to his bedroom with his three sheets of (hopefully) correct answers and he’ll get some sleep.
Then he’ll wake up, go to school, and do it all again.
Out of the corner of his eye, he watches as the ghost feeds enough ectoplasm through the first cage so that it lights up just like his did. Immediately, the man inside starts shouting, threatening the ghost with some very creative swearing to let them all go, but Danny just tunes him out because he’s doing what he does best. He's getting on with it.
He swallows and settles back down on the floor, trying to ignore the way his eyes are prickling. Cool. Entering into the “crying way too easily at just about anything” stage of tired. Lovely.
Right. Come on, you can do this. Take a deep breath. It’s just math.
Solve 7x^2 - 25x + 2 = 0 using the quadratic formula. Give your answer to 2 decimal places.
What the fuck.
He keeps an ear out as the ghost goes down the line asking the same question and receiving much the same results. Meanwhile, Danny’s getting nowhere fast.
So, a = 7, right? Which means that b = 25 and c = 2, that’s good, okay, so plug that all into the quadratic formula—wait, shit, b = -25 instead! Does that make a difference?
Whatever, now he has to… fix all the numbers in the formula, so minus minus 25 which is… 0, right? Right. Then it’s all the brackets, so first he’s got to square -25 which is… fuck. Where’s his calculator, did he bring a calculator? How in the hell is he meant to do that in his head?
Danny’s halfway to pulling his hair out when he hears it. The ghost is laughing, congratulating the man on the podium for his three right answers even if it looks like he’s gotten this one wrong, judging by the reaction of the person inside the cage. Danny can’t quite make out what’s happening because all he can see is numbers and, having abandoned squaring -25, a square root that he doesn’t know how to deal with.
So it's understandable that the shout doesn’t quite register to begin with.
“—yal! Danyal!”
But when it does, when the name finally makes it through, he freezes.
It can’t be real.
“Akhi, please!”
It’s not real.
His head whips up to the cage that’s glowing, but it’s too far away, too bright in the darkness, to really make out for certain that… It can’t be. He can’t be here, why would he be here?
Part of Danny really, really wishes he was paying attention to the monologuing.
“Danyal, please, answer me!” The voice is desperate, so, so desperate. Hoarse and wet and thick with tears, a far cry from the confident boy he used to know. The… the only time Danny’s heard his voice like that was when… But it can’t be him. “Let me go, let me see him! Danyal!”
“Answer my question, you little rat!” The ghost growls, face twisting in a snarling grimace that gets him nowhere. Of course it wouldn’t, there's no way that would scare him.
“Danyal! Please, akhi, please!”
It… Oh shit, is it really him?
Danny stands up, his pencil clattering to the floor, and he steps close enough to the glass wall of the cage so that he can reach out and touch it.
He hesitates.
What if it’s a trick? What if he’s in a nightmare dimension and the ghost is actually super powerful and this is all a trap? It’s not a game for the man on the podium, it’s a game made for torturing him—hell, it even had math in it! He hates math!
It can’t be real.
“Danyal, please, let it be you, please be alive, Danyal… Akhi, please.”
He lets his ectoplasm flood the cage, the walls blinding him as he pours in too much, far more than the ghost keeping them captive could ever hope to conjure. He wets his lips, regulates his ectoplasm to a trickle so that the light dims and he can finally see out again, and tries to say something. Anything. His heart is pounding and his mouth is dry.
“Dami?” he whispers, not daring to hope. Then louder, “Damian?”
“Danyal, is it really—”
“What are you doing?” The ghost snaps, taking his hand off of Damian’s cage so that the light dims and he can’t be heard, and shoots over towards him. “How are you doing that?”
Yeah, fuck this. That’s Damian in there, that’s really Damian, and Danny’s not staying in his cage for another second. He takes his hand off the wall and powers up an ectoblast, not even bothering to transform. He’s getting his little brother.
The glass of the cage shatters easily.
He steps out of the cage easily.
He… It’s not quite as easy to walk over to Damian.
It’s even harder to smash it open, so he just stands there, staring. Watching as Damian—and it is, it really is—stands there, too, his mouth moving as he's trying to call out to him but no sound is heard. Danny can read his lips well enough…
Damian sniffs, wipes his eyes and nose on his sleeve, and smiles tentatively. It’s a small, fleeting thing. Unsure. Sad. Hopeful.
“Damian?” He still can’t believe it, it has to be some sort of trick, surely. Still… even if it is, he’ll get to hold his brother again. Even if it’s not real. He smiles back at him and readies an ectoblast. “Stand back.”
And then that stupid ghost fires one straight at him instead.
Damian’s gaze flickers behind him, shouting a warning that he can’t hear, and he turns intangible on instinct. The bolt flies through him, but it’s not even strong enough to break Damian’s cage. Yeah, Danny was right. This guy's just annoying, not even worth the time it'll take to fight him.
“You’re ruining it, you’re ruining my game! You’re… you’re a ghost?”
There it is, there's the realisation, finally. He turns to face him, anger boiling in his veins. Fuck this guy.
“You’re an idiot?”
“Excuse me? How dare you?” The ghost blinks, then puffs himself up, ghostly flames licking up his stupid, ill-fitting suit, still not fully comprehending what’s going on. Not knowing the danger he’s in. “In my own lair, how dare you call me that?”
“I’m not a ghost.” Danny interrupts, ice beginning to creep out from his feet. He takes a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. “I’m Phantom.”
“Wh—Phantom?” Immediately, the ghost loses all of his fire and shrinks into himself. “Oh, Ancients, I’m… I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Your Majesty, I didn’t mean to—”
“And yet, you did. Is this a challenge?”
“Challenge? Cha—no, no, of course not, of course not, I wouldn’t be challenging you, not at all! Here, I’ll just, I’ll… I’ll let everyone out and then you can be on your way, I’m so sorry!”
Danny doesn’t even bother to answer, he just turns back to Damian with a roll of his eyes and—he’s still there, he keeps expecting him to have vanished, for this all to have been a dream, but he’s still there—and he readies another ectoblast.
“Stand back, okay?”
Damian nods and moves away, his eyes flicking between Danny and the ghost behind him with undisguised contempt.
The ectoplasmic glass shatters easily and then Damian is out of the cage and in front of him, just an arms length away.
They stand there for a long minute, watching, neither of them able to make the first move. Danny should probably start explaining some things, right? Ancients, there’s so much, but…
It’s been six years.
Six years without his brother.
Six years of only allowing himself to remember on one day, because otherwise he’d break down, otherwise he’d go back and…
Six years.
“Hey, Dami.” He tries to smile, tries to step forward, tries to do something other than stand there stupidly, but he just can’t.
“Are you… Danyal? Is it really you?”
“I feel like I should be asking you that,” he laughs, but it comes out weak and watery.
He’s definitely in the crying stage of tired now.
“Are you—” his eyes flicker over to the ghost again and Danny knows what he’s going to say with just as much certainty as he knows he’s not going to like hearing it. “Are you alive? Truly?”
He shrugs, puffs out some air in a sardonic grin, and spreads his arms wide. “Depends on how you define it, I guess. It’s… kind of a long story.”
It’s not comforting, from the look on Damian’s face, but then he hadn’t really expected it to be. He couldn’t lie to him, there was never any lying to Damian. Even when they were children together, he always saw through him.
Damian brings his arm up, towards him, but falters before they actually touch. Danny can feel his core twist and he so desperately wants to reach out and bridge the gap, but…
“Can I? Danyal, can—”
Ah, screw this, Danny hugs him.
He hugs him and the solid warmth of his presence, the familiar scent, the feeling of weight, of rightness, of home makes everything truly click for him.
It’s real.
It’s Damian.
Danny clings on tighter and a second later, he feels Damian’s arms circle around him, grabbing fistfuls of his hoodie and pulling it taut in his effort to hold on. Damian’s shoulders start to shake and he can’t help but laugh softly, his heart fluttering in his chest. At least he’s not the only one crying.
“Akhi, it’s really you, it’s really…”
“I’m here, Dami, I’m sorry, I won’t leave again.” He pushes his face into Damian’s shoulder, sniffing against the fabric. Yikes, he hopes Damian won’t be mad at the pretty obvious wet patch. “I promise.”
They stay there for a few minutes longer, clinging to each other, trying to breathe through it, when Danny feels a shifting in the ectoplasm around them. He groans, he just cannot catch a break!
This guy really does not know when to stop, does he? It’s always the weaker ones, too, the ones that have absolutely no hope in defeating him that never know when to bow out gracefully. It’s annoying. If this ghost isn’t careful, Danny will have to update his annoying list and finally move Boxy out of first place. At least he knows when to make himself scarce.
With a sigh, he conjures up a shield just as the ghost lets the blast loose. If he was alone—he’s so glad he’s not alone—he wouldn’t have bothered with the shield at all, but it’s not like he’s going to let Dami get hit.
“You’re really starting to piss me off, you know that, right?”
“You ruined my game! I don’t care who you are, no one leaves until my game is finished!” The ghost—Danny doesn’t even feel bad about not knowing his name any more, this guy sucks—snarls and throws another ectoblast which Danny knocks away with one of his own.
With one last squeeze, he lets Damian go, already feeling the loss of it. Fuck this guy.
“Last chance, let everyone go and I’ll let you go. Call it a thank you for reuniting us.”
“I already told you,” he spits, both his hands glowing with ectoplasmic fire, “no one leaves until the game is finished!”
Danny pushes Damian behind him and pulls a thermos out of thin air, still not bothering to transform. He knocks the ghost back with a strong blast of ectoplasm and soups him before he can do anything but groan.
At least it was over quickly.
"I win."
He throws a smile over his shoulder at Damian and pops the thermos back in the pocket dimension it came from. The ghost can stew in there for a couple days, really think about what he did. It’s just rude.
Then he lifts both his arms up and shoots five ectoblasts in quick succession at each of the remaining cages, finally freeing the rest of the ghost’s hostages. Let them get themselves together while Danny can go back to giving Damian a hug.
It’s been so long.
He goes to grab Damian again, but stops when Damian hisses sharply and pulls his hand back.
“You’re hurt?”
Oh, Ancients, he’s hurt! Did Danny do that? Is it bad, was it an ectoblast? What happened?
Before he can spiral too far, Damian lifts up his wrist to reveal a splint already protecting his injury.
“I sprained it a few days ago, it’s nothing terrible. That’s why I’m me and not, you know.” Damian shrugs and gestures, presumably, to the guy on the podium. Danny has no idea what that’s meant to mean.
“Not what?”
“Not patrolling as Robin. I have been benched until I’m sufficiently healed.”
“Yeah, sure, that makes sense—I’m sorry, wait, what—you’re Robin?” He follows Damian’s outstretched arm towards the guy on the podium and… “Holy shit, is that Batman?”
“Mother never told you?”
“Told me what?”
“He’s our father, Danyal.”
“That’s our… That’s our Batdad? Fatherman? Dadbat? Dad-Dad Bat… man? What?” He shakes his head a little, trying to make some of his thoughts actually connect because nothing is actually making any sense right now. “What the fuck?”
His face burns as he hears the barely stifled laughter coming from pretty much every broken cage. He swivels his head around, eyes wide like an owl, and tries to place the names of the audience he’d forgotten about.
Nightwing—that’s the Nightwing—waves with a cheery grin as he makes his way over to them, and there’s Red Robin with his hand clamped over his mouth, nowhere near successful in silencing his laughter. Black Bat, Signal, Red—is that Red Hood, the crime boss, over there? Holy shit!—all wave at him, too, but mercifully they stay where they are.
Batman steps down from the podium.
“Sorry, I think I missed just about everything earlier. What the hell is going on here? What kind of game was this? ‘How Embarrassed Can We Make Danny?’ Because that’s what it feels like.”
“Nah, but if it's any consolation, you’d certainly be winning that game!” Nightwing laughs as he stops a few feet away from them.
“It was my fault,” Batman says, his voice low and gravelly. He gestures towards the thermos. “He wanted to test my ability as a father. My knowledge of my children.”
“Oh… How did you do?”
“I mean, not great,” Red Hood laughs from behind him. “He didn’t even know who you were.”
“Well, that’s fair, can’t really blame him for that. I’m meant to be dead.” Danny says cheerfully, nodding with a smile that he hopes is reassuring. “I mean, I am dead, but that’s unrelated. Don’t worry about it.”
“I’m sorry, what?” Red Robin asks.
“Don’t worry about it!” Danny waves him away and slings an arm around Damian, just like he used to do when they were young. He feels like he’s buzzing, his core vibrating happily out of his skin, and he’s pretty sure he’s got the goofiest grin on his face. “It’s all good!”
“Yeah, don’t worry about it,” Red Hood says as he picks his way towards them, cutting off whatever Batman was going to say, thank goodness. There’s no way he’s awake enough for a proper, actual conversation about his death(s) and everything that came after them, not at all. “We have bigger things to worry about, after all.”
All of them groan. Guess he’s not the only tired person here.
“What’s wrong now?” Red Robin asks, already pulling up a dope wrist computer that looks slick as hell but obviously isn’t going to work in the Ghost Zone.
Red Hood brandishes a load of papers and turns his head towards Danny. “Danyal here thinks adding 4 and 7 makes 10, which isn’t a great start, but you should actually be multiplying them there, and then multiplying all that by 2, not just… leaving the 2 out? I don’t know what you’ve done with half of this, but it definitely doesn’t make 10 though. I can also tell you that 25 squared is not whatever this squiggle is meant to be. Pretty cool picture of a horse, though, great job on that!”
Danny slumps and hides his face in his hands with a half-hearted sob. He’s so screwed. “It’s meant to be a cat.”
“Oh.” Red Hood turns the paper on its side, tilts his head, then turns the paper upside. “That’s a really crappy cat. Sorry.”
“Do you know how to get us out of here?” Batman asks gently, drawing Danny out of his shame spiral.
“Yeah, that’s not a problem, I can portal us out. At least I’ve got that down.” He rolls his eyes and rubs at the back of his neck with weak laughter. He’s really not making a good impression right now, is he?
“Let’s go, then. If you’d like, I can help you with your homework when we get back somewhere safe.” It’s so weird, Batman sounds so uncertain, not at all like the fearsome crusader he’s seen on the news. And then he smiles, soft and warm, and Danny can’t help but return it. “Damian can help you with the drawing.”
“Yeah… I think I’d like that. Thanks.”
"Let's play a game of 'How well do you know your kids?'" The being shouted, eyebrow still twitching from Robins latest remark.
"I know all my children perfectly." Batman growled at the entity. He held his ground as the spirits (demons?) smile sharpened, "Than you won't mind!"
A puff of purple glowy smoke engulfs then entire area and the next thing anyone knows is that all of Bruces children, even the ones who weren't with them previously, are locked inside magical cages while Batman is trapped in a invisible mime box with a podium and a microphone in what is quite possibly the most garish game show set up ever.
Why was everything neon green and purple? Why was the guy neon green and purple? Who were these other kids-gdi Bruce! You have more kids?
Danny could just transform and beat up the ghost. Its a pretty weak one after all. But this one doesn't seem to recognize him as a halfa and this seemed like the perfect opportunity to do his homework without being attacked.
Jason stared at the kid next to him. What kinda life did this kid have to calmly get out his math homework and start solving problems while being held hostage by an unknown entity?! And with the bats no less?!
All the while Batman is getting peppered with questions about his kids and is realizing he doesn't recognize a few of the names.
#dpxdc#prompt fill#my writing#hello hello hello back again two days later with the exact same prompt and another 4500 words!#this brain rot is still consuming me i will never be free of it#but that's okay because i'm making things and it's fun!!!#i'm currently much like danny and very very sleep-deprived - i am making myself laugh so much with danny's poorly drawn cat#i'm sorry danny but cats do not have necks like that you poor poor boy#also i had to learn the quadratic equation for this again - who said you wouldn't use this stuff after school?? me i did it fucking sucks#once again i am a FAKE FAN because i have ZERO IDEA on characters in the dc universe LET ALONE who counts as bruce's children#so you've got this deal with it#again i did not give this poor ghost a name nor a description lmao sorry family therapist ghost#also please imagine: all of the batfam that are actually engaged in the game seeing damian's reaction as soon as danny's introduced#there's a minute where damian is just frozen - trying to comprehend what he's seeing because his brother is meant to be dead#because i love the idea of little baby damian being so clingy just absolutely doting on his older brother#that losing him - that danyal's supposed death - just absolutely breaks him and he can't let himself be close to anyone else especially his#new 'brothers' - they're never going to replace danyal no one can replace danyal! that's what he tells himself while thinking deep down#he can't take another loss like that. getting close to another brother means the possibility of losing another brother#and he can't go through that again#anyway he's fucking losing it in his cage and everyone else is watching damian show way more emotion than he's ever shown before#and they're all so scared and so worried for damian and hearing him shout and plead for danyal when it comes to his turn just breaks their#hearts poor poor little bby bat TT^TT#anyway i hope you all enjoy i'm sorry for going ham on this prompt but then again no i'm not this was fun!!!!#cab writes
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it's like online leftist communities overcorrected too hard when it comes to dieting and now there's people convinced you can sustain yourself on eating 100% ultraprocessed snack foods and also anyone who tries to change their habits whether it's for health or aesthetic reasons is a fascist
#YOU WILL NOT MAKE IT!!!!#is it problematic for me to say this#it's like okay make that anti diet industry post but please stop encouraging people to never eat vegetables that's like.#promoting smoking cigarettes...#ok well that's kind of what I do here but not rlly#just kind of makes me upset seeing people fall in a pit of 'well I can't lose weight anyway bc it's biologically impossible (lie!!!)#so might as well not even try to change anything and eat like crap because my body is a beautiful machine that can withstand#anything i do to it' like I'm sorry but u will regret it.......#no one has to be skinny but i will absolutely bully people into eating fruits and vegetables and cooking their own meals#whenever possible!!!!!#and i feel sorry for anyone who can't get a hold of healthy food bc it's too expensive in some areas genuinely thats evil america#it's like they barricade a healthy lifestyle from their citizens and then sell it back to them in form of fad diets
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i lowkey have a grudge on this one new wave musician that i will not name because he is this webbed site's darling. peace and love
#i like his music and i won't stop anyone from still being into it#but im very not into the fact that he made a musical based on one of the most controversial people in my country's political history#let me break it down. this is a white man who made a musical about a southeast asian political figure who is STILL ALIVE#and has not fully atoned for her and her family's crimes#like can't you see how fucking tone deaf that sounds#anyway im so glad that fucking musical flopped and no one gave a fuck about it <3#on the other hand i gotta commend the production team for having filipino actors in the cast#but that musical Did Not need to exist in any way possible#sorry for ranting i just saw him on my dashboard again#i literally can't not associate him with that musical because that's how i heard of his name#again feel free to listen to the music and shit but like keep this info in mind
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i dreamt of my ex like a week ago and hes been on my mind ever since. i picked up so many mannerisms from him. it feels like part of him will always live in my body. i make faces he used to make. i have a look in my eyes like how he used to look at me.
#at least i dont talk to him in my head every minute of every day anymore.#i don't even know how i feel about seeing him in myself. i guess its kind of comforting.#the dream kind of made me miss him but then it also reminded me of what it was like. so.#fascinating how the story ended between us. he left me so so many times and he always threw some shit in my face while doing it#and in the end i went back to him willingly one(1) time and also ended up leaving willingly and i didn't say shit...#what is there to say ... he was gleeful when i was in pain. Because i was in pain. and it was because of him#when i left i just said it's better if i don't say anything because i knew i would regret anything i could ever possibly say.#because i would worry he wouldn't understand#because if he'd understood then it would not have been like that in the first place. so i told him he would figure it out#since he did tell me when i went back that he was sorry and he thought the things he did to me could cause ptsd. which they did#so like maybe he will understand#anyway i don't care really i just haven't told anyone this part other than my therapist who seemed kind of like#she had to really make an effort to be kind to me about this. because i definitely made mistakes#like hoping for shit he had outright told me would not be happening#i hate when people act like they love me and then pull the rug out from under me and it keeps happening#i mean i have enough self awareness to know that it must be because i have a fucked up understanding of what it means for someone to love me#otherwise i would not be saying all this on the same post about one person like. you know?
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