#awe or fear

[duraxxor]

Late FFAF:

Would you rather have someone stare at you in awe, or run from you in fear?

Crimson glints in the darkness narrowed. This question wasn't one he had expected to hear. Regardless, there was a matter of intrigue from it none the less. " There has always been a common middle ground between all throughout my life. But you asked of me a preference. I should not squander an opportunity to speak with a new face with such trivialities. "

Leaning forward in his chair, a glimpse of his face was now clad in spotlight. The details of his face now clear as the dark sclera focused the red light of his pupils. " People tend to run in fear when things get more macabre and violent on my end. But I also have a tendency to strike awe when it is appropriate. So, I suppose the yielded results gain my favor more so in being awestruck than fearful. Don't take it the wrong way, I enjoy a fear factor, but people learn more when they stick around for the show. " His left eye winked, causing the sanguine light to temporarily disappear.

[[ Thank you for the ask @nahisummerhold welcome to my little world! ]]

[phantom-rats]

his text to speech voice and codependent tendencies have captivated me deeply

[s0up1ta]

i hate them so much

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

i am thinking how much poorer, how much less colorful the world would be if art was only made by "professionals." if all the music, all the stories, all the sketches & paintings & craftwork of the world was created only by the small category of people able to make a decent living from their art. imagine if the only people allowed to create were the experts & the renowned & those aspiring to the top. what a grey world that would be. how much joy would be bleached away! i love you people who create for the sake of creating, i love you artists who do art for tiny audiences, i love you people who make things even just for one person, even just for themselves, even if no one's watching, thank you thank you thank you for decorating the world in which we all exist

[dailyperkele]

Day 24 - Buckshot Roulette

Don't mind him, he is taking a shot at a new career.

[radiance1]

Danny:

Pariah Dark:

Fright Knight:

Danny: Look, I can explain-

Pariah Dark places a hand on Danny's shoulder, crouching down to his level (or as much as he can anyway) and giving the boy the proudest, most loving look he is able. "Son. I am so proud of you."

"Hah?" Danny asked, intelligently.

Fright Knight nodded. "I am as well." He even went as far as wiping an imaginary-no wait that's an actual tear. "It is just- It is so beautiful to see my nephew following in our footsteps." He sniffed, taking a handkerchief from... Somewhere, to further dab at his eyes.

"Hah??" Danny, once more, said intelligently.

"It is alright son." Pariah Dark continued, giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "You did extremely well. Never let another say you did not. I am sure Time would be most pleased as well."

"What the fu-" Danny began.

"Language." Came the instant reply from them both as Fright Knight casually bisected an alien.

"Funny cheese puffs are you guys talking about??" Danny very shamelessly changed his sentence and went with.

"You started a war-"

"And cultivated fear."

"-Were you unaware?"

Danny blinked. Once. Then twice.

"Nuh uh." He said maturely. "I didn't do shii-" Faced with the glares of two angry parental figures, he very carefully chose his next words. "Ship. I'm innocent."

"He's even denying responsibility." Fright Knight dabbed away a few more tears and sniffed. "Truly, he reminds me of when you were younger my king."

"Haha!" Pariah Dark laughed, standing up and dusting himself off. "Truly! A prince after my own core!" Pariah patted Danny on the head, ruffling his hair. "Yes, my little 'ling is as innocent as he appears." Pariah winked knowingly.

Danny has some choice words for who let him know how to do that.

"Now..." War rubbed his chin as he looked out over the amount of carnage taking place in the city below from the fight between the aliens and the League of Justice. "Fear, do you think they would oppose to us joining?"

"That would depend on which side we fight for." Fear inclined his head, kicking a corpse off the side of the building they stood on. "Though I would rather not have this planet destroyed as we have an arrangement later this week."

"Ah, with Kents, yes?" War chuckled, cracking his knuckles. "Up for a wager, Fear?"

"What kind?"

"Least kills has to attend with no food."

"Hey wait a minute-" Danny tried to interject.

"This is not within my favor." Fear said calmly. "But I shall take you up on this offer regardless, my king."

And just like that, they were off.

Danny stood there for a moment, questioning if he should really step in and try to stop them. What would the Justice League say when the Ancients of War and Fear join in on a totally out of the blue invasion that Danny totally didn't have a hand in. How would the GIW react to this?

Then Danny thought. 'Wait, I have nothing to do with this.' And then decided this... Isn't his problem.

Then went back to sleep.

[theimpurelily]

My new ship just launched and one of them doesn't even have a fucking name

For real tho, this un-named Wan Jian Disciple is such a snarky bitch. I love him.

Kudos to @grubus for making such enjoyable OCs

[bixels]

I just saw one of your fave games is What remains of Edith Finch and I’m so happy! I feel like its a lesser known game but i loved playing through it. I’m so happy to know more than just my small friend group know about this game!

Sorry this isn’t a question. Also want to say that you’re art is amazing and the development of the designs is so interesting to see. Also the way you draw intimate scenes have so much emotion to them. I love the Aj and rarity kissing comic so much, you can just feel their love for each other ;w;

Thank you so much!

I highly, highly, highly recommend What Remains of Edith Finch to anyone interested in narrative game experiences/"walking simulators." It's one of those games that was handcrafted with nothing but love. Every room you explore is just... real. The way the light flows in and makes the colors of the living room, the kitchen, the bedrooms glow. Playing the game is like walking through your childhood home as an adult and seeing how the dust clings to everything you once touched. Also genius-level gameplay mechanics, ones that can make you completely empathetic with the character you're embodying or feel completely complacent in their tragedy. It's really not fair to call it a walking simulator because it's so much more and so much smarter than that.Everyone talks about the fish one.

The theme of death and memory and storytelling and the burden of invisible trauma and self-fulfilling prophecies is so affecting too. The ending made me cry.

[greenglowinspooks]

(DCxDP) The obligations of a rogue versus those of a parent (Pt. 4)

—

Tw: descriptions of body horror, Dr. Crane has PTSD and Does Not Realize, Crane has an actual panic attack and just doesn’t care, the Riddler makes one (1) sex joke about Batman

Will be crossposted to AO3 eventually

(Pt. 1 here) (Prev here) - (Pt. 5 here)

(Masterlist here)

—

Dr. Jonathan Crane is in his lab, the acrid scent of chemicals filling the air, and his hands are shaking.

Danny’s health, for the first week that he had him, had been steadily improving at an extremely quick rate. However, his healing had begun to stagnate. Danny said that it was because his body had run out of ectoplasm, and that while there was a lot of ambient ectoplasm in Gotham, he needed a stronger type in order to heal.

And so, that led Dr. Crane here.

He had stolen the research notes from the Penguin years ago regarding his experimentation on him.

(He quite vividly remembers the sound of bone creaking and groaning as it twisted, lengthened. The squelching of shifting tendons and muscles, the strange fabric-like tightening of skin. The feeling of going from man to monster, of losing all claim to his humanity.)

Danny had called him Liminal, part ghost. He had said that he was transformed by, among other things, a kind of synthetic ectoplasm.

Danny needed ectoplasm.

Crane had the research notes. He had every ingredient necessary. And yet, attempt after attempt failed.

The chemical smell burns his nose. His hands tremble.

Dr. Crane is not afraid.

He doesn’t feel fear anymore. He’s tried to, many, many times, but nothing has worked. And yet, his hands are shaking still.

(The horrifying sensation of vertebrae pop-pop-popping along his spine, growing and lengthening. The unbearable itching beneath his skin as toxin glands begin to form. The feeling of his teeth sharpening and elongating, of his skull growing, of his vision changing and brightening. The awful stench of chemicals. The awful stench of ectoplasm.)

Jonathan takes careful note of his shaking hands, his blurring vision, his accelerated heart-rate and shallow breathing.

(Human hands. Human vision. Human heart and lungs and organs.)

He takes note of them, but he does not let that distract him from the task at hand. Danny is not a chemist, but Jonathan is.

The boy knows enough about chemistry in theory, but he won’t go anywhere near Crane’s equipment. He seems to have some sort of intense fear of laboratory settings, probably developed during his stay with the GiW, and Crane is willing to respect that, if only because he cannot afford to lose him.

As such, Crane is the only one qualified to do this. And, unfortunately, if he isn’t successful the boy may very well die.

He heats the chemicals to precisely the right temperatures, adding each one to its correct container.

Dr. Crane thinks of the Scarebeast, that creature born of cruelty and greed and a sense of superiority. That creature which he tries to ignore is a part of him, that can never be removed. A damage which cannot be undone.

He pours the contents of a small beaker into a larger flask, watching the liquids swirl together. The stench in the air is becoming closer and closer to the one burned into his memory.

Crane’s whole body is wracked with unpleasant sensations. It’s truly unfortunate, he thinks, that despite his mind’s lack of fear, his body still reacts so harshly.

Jonathan’s eyes wander, eventually settling on a purple and green card sitting innocently on the corner of the table.

Right.

Even if they wiped out the GiW tomorrow, and even if Danny could survive without ectoplasm, he would still be in danger.

Crane has to get him back to good health. It’s the only way he can be sure that the boy can defend himself properly.

The solution in the flask begins to foam, and Jonathan does not hesitate as he adds the final ingredient. He pours the mixture into a new container, capping it and placing it into a freezer set to -40 degrees.

Hopefully this time he got the timing right.

Jonathan tries to relax, the ventilation in the room slowly but surely clearing the familiar smell from the air.

He thinks of the letter.

Surely, he thinks, that man can come up with some better material for his jokes. Or, at least something new.

Same old threats, same old attempted poisoning.

Aiming his threats at Danny, though, that was new. New and utterly unacceptable.

Scarecrow did what he had to.

He doubted that his solution would last forever, of course, as with that man it never did. As such, he would prepare both himself and Danny for the inevitable moment that his choices came back to bite them.

However, for the moment, they were safe. Danny could rest and recover, and Jonathan could figure out a plan to minimize possible damages.

Jonathan is no longer shaking.

He’s exhausted. This is his fifth attempt today, and each one leaves an unfortunate strain on his mind and body.

With a sigh, he settles himself into his seat at a nearby desk, opening up his computer and logging his most recent attempt. He still has to wait for it to chill to know if it was successful, but he can always update the logs later.

Once he’s done, he stretches, joints popping loudly as he walks to the freezer.

When he sees the results of his tireless work, the ghost of a smile flits across his face.

Success.

Jonathan picks up the jug of ectoplasm and leaves the lab, which is in all actuality the basement of the new apartment that he moved himself and Danny into after receiving the note. The scrappy old woman who was his landlord had told him that as long as he paid her five hundred dollars up front, she would let him set up in the basement without any questions or cop calls.

And so, the most expensive apartment in the Narrows was his.

At least, he thought, the distance between the basement and the apartment was short enough that Danny didn’t have to sit in while he was doing his labwork.

Jonathan knew that he didn’t exactly have a strong grasp on the concept of ‘lab safety,’ proven by his built-up immunity to almost every toxic chemical he’d ever encountered, and he doubted that Danny should be around such an environment.

He was back to the apartment quickly, not bothering to hide the self-satisfied smile on his face. Danny is sitting in his armchair, trying to read one of his books. Danny looks up, ready to greet him, when he sees the jug in his hands and pauses.

“Is that..?”

“Synthetic ectoplasm,” Jonathan says proudly, “I found the Penguin’s research notes and decided to recreate it, since you said that you needed it to heal properly. I’m not sure if it’ll work the same as what you usually have, but I hope it’s helpful all the same.”

Danny is standing, now, and looking at Jonathan with a strange look in his eyes. He looks, Jon thinks, like he’s about to cry.

Then Danny is rushing forward and wrapping his arms around Jonathan, his scrawny form shaking.

Jonathan is, for a moment, horrified. Did he do something wrong somehow? Why is this child, who’s so afraid of touch, hugging him?

And then he hears Danny’s voice, and he knows that it was all worth it.

“Thank you,” he’s mumbling, over and over, “thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you so much.”

“Of course,” Jonathan says softly, because what else can he say?

The boy cries in his arms for a while, and Jonathan briefly wonders what his life must have been like before, if a person like him can be seen as a comforting figure.

Then, Danny pours himself a small glass of the synthetic ectoplasm, putting the rest into the small fridge which had come with the apartment, and he settles back down, sitting in the armchair once again.

Jonathan sits opposite of him, and they chat with one another as Danny drinks.

Danny talks to him about the stars and tells him about different spaceships, and Jonathan makes sure to pay attention and ask the boy questions.

He doesn’t miss the way that Danny lights up every time he asks him something about his interests. He’s so passionate, so smart, a trait that he seldom sees outside of his fellow rogues, and Jonathan wants to encourage that.

It’s…nice. Peaceful, almost.

And then the front door flies open, because Jonathan isn’t allowed to have nice things.

“Jon,” a familiar voice rings out, “what the hell?!”

Danny is frozen in place, clearly terrified.

Jonathan heaves a sigh, turning to face the nuisance who’s entered his apartment.

“Eddie,” he drawls, “to what do I owe the pleasure?”

Edward’s face is red with anger as he invades Jonathan’s apartment.

“Oh, I don’t know! Maybe it’s the fact that you sent a bunch of rogues a cryptic message and then dropped off the face of the earth for two weeks! I was worried, Jon!”

Jonathan hums in acknowledgement.

“I didn’t think it was that cryptic,” he says, picking up a book in order to pointedly ignore the Riddler.

“Oh, of course you didn’t, you straw-stuffed hickory dickory dickhead. I swear, you’re always—” he pauses, finally having noticed Danny sitting opposite of Jonathan, “—who is this?”

“My apprentice,” Jonathan replies, dreading the upcoming headache he was no doubt going to develop from Edward’s company, “he’s helping me hunt down the GiW. His name is Danny.”

Edward gasps dramatically.

“You—an apprentice?! And you’re letting him sit in the old man chair?! You don’t even let me sit in the old man chair,” he wails, draping himself over the headrest of the couch with a flourish, “Jonathan, I thought I knew you!”

“Edward,” Jonathan says, “get out of my apartment.”

“Oh my goodness, this is incredible. You’re becoming the bat!”

“I am not becoming the bat, Eddie, now get out.”

Edward has a shit-eating grin on his face as he waltzes over to Danny. Danny, who seemed terrified when he first appeared, is now looking at him with obvious amusement written all over his face.

“I mean, look at him! The hair, the eyes, the scrappy build. If you put him in one of those traffic light vigilante costumes, he could easily pass as a Robin!”

“I’m not doing this with you today, Eddie.”

“Riddle me this, Jon: I am a treasure hidden inside of a chest. You can break me, or steal me, or give me a rest. I can flutter, or pound, or attack, or drop, but if you don’t have me, you’re certainly fucked. What am I?”

Jonathan pauses for a moment before he groans, dropping his head into his hands.

“Eddie.”

Danny sits still, a confused look on his face as he repeats the riddle silently. Then, his face lights up in delight.

“A heart!”

“Jon, I like this one,” Edward says with a smile, ruffling Danny’s hair, “you are correct! A heart, something that I wasn’t aware that our dear Jonathan had!”

“Eddie, stop.”

“No, no,” Edward says, “I was worried about you, you deserve this. I mean, you even missed girls night! You never miss girls night!”

“Girls night?” Danny asks, absolutely delighted.

“Oh, of course,” Edward says, sprawling over on the couch, dangerously close to just laying in Jonathan’s lap, “we have it once a week. I’m invited because of Selina and Jon’s invited because Harley likes him.”

“And what does girls night entail, exactly?”

“Eddie,” Jonathan groans, “please.”

“Well,” Edward hums, “we usually paint our nails, or watch a movie, or gossip about the other rogues, and occasionally, we tell each other about any ‘encounters’ we have with Batman,” he says, raising his eyebrows up and down.

Danny’s jaw drops.

“Edward, shut up,” Jonathan says, an irritated tone in his voice that wasn’t there before.

“No way,” Danny says, “I thought that Batman, like, hated you guys or something. You mean he actually..?”

“Oh, the Bat is much like a bottle of liquor or a cheap cigarette, in that he was made to be passed around.”

Danny chokes on air.

“Edward Nygma,” Jonathan hisses, getting out of his seat and looming over the man, “get the hell out.”

Edward pales.

“Leaving, leaving!” Edward says, dashing away from Jonathan. He pauses, turning to flash Danny a quick smile.

“Remember Danny, I’m your favorite uncle! Not any of the other rogues, me!”

With that, he leaves, the room falling completely silent.

And, as per usual, that silence does not last.

“You full-named him?” Danny asks gleefully, “and it worked?”

Jonathan just sighs, sitting down on the couch and rubbing at his temples.

“Please, don’t take anything Eddie says seriously. He’s a moron.”

“Dr. Crane, please let me come to girls night with you,” Danny pleads, his eyes sparkling, “I promise I won’t embarrass you.”

Jonathan groans.

“Of course you won’t, Eddie will do it for you.”

“Come on, please?”

“I think we’re a bit busy with the GiW at the moment,” Jonathan snaps. He pauses as he notices the crestfallen expression on Danny’s face.

This boy is going to be the death of him.

“Perhaps, though, when all that is taken care of…”

Danny cheers, grinning wildly, and Jonathan is not at all relieved to see him happy again. Certainly not.

The rest of the day is relatively normal.

Danny works on trying to get information from the GiW database while Crane refines his his fear toxin, both preparing for a raid on the GiW base they located in Gotham.

It was only a temporary base, nothing of note, but there was a chance of discovering more bases through it, and that wasn’t something either of them were willing to give up.

Still, something like this would take time. Rushing would only lead to failure.

…

Late in the night, long after Danny is fast asleep in his room, Jonathan pauses.

The GiW are not the only threat out there. They aren’t the only threat to him or to Danny. Perhaps it could be helpful to reach out to someone with greater resources than himself.

He sends a quick message to Red Hood.

Hopefully, he thinks, everything will go smoothly.

—

[cream-and-tea]

must a book have ‘plot’ and ‘structure’ and ‘progression.’ is it not enough for characters to be in a place. and for that place to be really fucking weird.

[rosesoma]

transfem laios having the worst time of her life growing out her hair bc there's inevitably that period where she HAS to look like her dad bc she doesn't want to cut her hair short again but she also can't force it to grow out faster either

[criticalbeauregard]

pov u are walking through the woods minding your own business in early 18th century new england

(click for better quality)

[canisalbus]

I want to say thank you for doing your art. Helped me to be less afraid of dogs (I'm the type of person who was afraid of my neighbors toy-pudel, it's a bit awkward)

.

[dykedvonte]

I like to think that Curly and Jimmy had parallel lives on earth.

That Curly was an only child and his parents died shortly after he became a captain. They got to see his biggest accomplishment but he had no one to really celebrate it with after. Jimmy has siblings and his parents and they didn’t care when he got the co-pilot job cause he’s just the back up. Sure they’re happy for him but no reason to celebrate.

They could both barely afford rent. That’s how it is that late in capitalism and the world the live. The difference is Curly could down size, Jimmy would end up down on the curb. Jimmy had flings and Curly had partners. Both fleeting but Curly pulled away and they left Jimmy.

I like to think they lived parallel to each other in a way they both noticed. Curly felt a kinship and Jimmy felt resentful. Curly worked to make a good deal with what he had and Jimmy scorned his dealt cards and wanted the hand he thought Curly had made.

[akindplace]

sometimes someone will tell you an incredibly judgmental opinion on you or on your life and it will be completely invalidating and it will be based only on their ignorance on whatever they are talking about and as hurtful as that invalidation is you should not assume that everyone will think the same way, even if they are sure they are telling an absolute truth. that is a weird thing to do in the first place and you don’t have to prove yourself to someone who believes they have constant moral or intellectual superiority. they’re an exception, not the rule. no one is judging you so hard and it’s okay if you don’t want to hang around someone who constantly puts you down or makes you feel like you don’t belong. just don’t assume everyone else agrees with them without ever giving other people a chance.

most often people are just dealing with their own problems and they are not scrutinizing every little thing you do, and you don’t have to act like someone else’s opinion of you is the whole truth just because they want that you to, especially when it’s based of no knowledge or experience and it carries so much prejudice. if you can walk away from those types of discussions, please do. don’t justify everything you do to someone who is committed to judging you based on their misconceptions and it’s not willing to see things from another perspective. I just promise you not everyone will be like them