#but like... the exact day of his death is just

[myceliacrochet]

URGENT: 4yo Little Girl and Her Family Malnutritioned and Freezing!! (Sham and Moneer al-Anqar -- Skills Series: "Easy Piece First")

Reblog if u answer pls tysm!🩷

There's no shame in that! In this series, I'll be sharing some tips to help us keep going strong, carrying these families throughout this brutal winter of extermination. With each post I'll be highlighting a family in desperate need.

Easy Piece First

Whether we're working at a job, making commissions, working on posts, or doing other tasks, mutual aid for genocide relief can be overwhelming. The stakes are through the roof, and sometimes the people who most want to help are the people least able to. Often I freeze in place, overwhelmed with emotion, unsure of where to start. Depression, anxiety, and AuDHD don't help!

So I hope this skill is of use to you. I call it "Easy Piece First" because that's what helps me remember it, but it's definitely not a new idea.

I started this post with the easiest small step accessible. For me, that was writing down Moneer's current blog tag (@sham-moner) in a new post. This was the easiest for me because it required no decision-making and could be done in a few seconds. Then I filled in the other parts that don't take much thought -- the GoFundMe link, the vetting, and some tags.

For other posts, sometimes I'll be making art that is unrelated and then I'll think of a post to go with it.

Lazy and Heartless, or Focused and Strategic?

Everyone is different, but trying to force yourself to start with the hardest part first (what some people call the "Eat That Frog" approach) can actually make things take longer for some people. Using "Easy Piece First," I was able to get more done with my time, and with less trouble. This makes my efforts more sustainable long-term.

On a related note, I actually take a lot of measures to not walk around with my chest constantly hurting for Palestinians anymore (though there's nothing wrong with doing so). My chest was aching at all times for months until I converted some of my worry into action and some of it into self-care -- so I could actually get more done for Palestinians, who do not need my tears but my labor.

This winter is a marathon, and we gotta see it through to the end.

Take care of yourself so you can get more done and keep helping people long-term.

Do not give yourself a heart condition.

Give Palestinians labor.

That's how I'm keeping myself out of the hospital and maximizing what I can do for people, but we all have our own strategies.

But that's enough about us -- let's talk about these two amazing kids.

Moneer and Sham

Palestinians are just regular people. That's the horrible reality. It's the exact same as if people from your own background, even your own family were getting tortured and killed.

Like, Moneer is a 19yo who had recently started university when the genocide began. Sham is 4, Mohammed is 16, Rana is 21, and Rasha is 22.

What were you going through when you were 4? How would you have felt if you saw people getting blown up at that age? What if your house was blown up and all your toys and friends were lost, and you had to live outside in the winter, scrounging for moldy bread and polluted water?

What if you lived with the smell of rotting bodies when you were 4? Did you know what that smelled like as a little kid? I still don't know what that smells like. I didn't really know what death was at that age. She does.

This small child is in critical need of food and water!!

She is starving!!

Sham will die this winter without more donations!!

This is a call to action for an extremely urgent campaign!!!

It's been 2 days, and it was 2 days before that! This is far too long!!

Moneer is still recovering from major surgery. He is in a lot of pain and is also malnutritioned and in need of clean water and warmth.

Moneer is very close to his family and dearly loves his mom, Amani (39). Amani is in a lot of danger because she has asthma in a dusty massacre zone without treatment. It's killing Moneer to watch his mom go through this.

Drink some water, take a rest, and keep putting one foot in front of the other, using whatever tools work for you.

We are not letting these kids and their family die this winter!! We can do this!!

Vetting: GazaVetters #8

@opencommunion @beserkerjewel @deepspaceboytoy @rhubarbspring @eryuditely @lesbianmaxevans @malcriada @turian @sxpph0 @rebel-girl-queen-of-my-world @neptunerings @dykesbat @halalgirlmeg @userpeggycarter @minosbull @hamstertross @magnus-rhymes-with-swagness-blog @definitelynotafox @kaleschmidt @jaylung101 @captainsaltymuyfancy2 @timetravellingkitty @sun-and-moon-side @kahin @greenmossyrock @northgazaupdates2 @irhabiya @theparanoid @steep1253o @victoriawhimsey @dirhwangdaseul @cruzwalters @ladycelebrianofimladris @tamamita @50seagullsinatrenchcoat @deathlonging @nconiku @briarhips @kaislittlecorner @mahoushojoe @sar-soor @rhubarbspring @pcktknife @sawasawako @feluka @anneemay-blog @ralfocups

P.S.: I have several people waiting on me for posts. I am so sorry -- I will get them finished and published as soon as possible.

@soft-sunbird Thank you dear friend🥰🩷 I love you. You're doing so great

Check out the comments for many ways to help!

[goldensunset]

‘maybe talking about the book will cheer you up!’ is a funny enough line just knowing that ephemer is casually trying to trick ava into breaking a very serious rule bc man can’t contain his curiosity for five minutes even while homegirl is venting. but it’s also hilarious bc in what universe would that cheer anybody up. ephy dude i forgive you for not knowing this yet at this point in the story but the book of prophecies is a real downer. it’s not a fun read. you will live to regret asking for it one day. honestly it’s like a major source of ava’s stress too i don’t think she would want to talk about it right now even if she could. man she probably knows the exact time and date of your death

[theflagscene]

15 Day BL Challenge (part 4)

59. What's a hill you're willing to die on when it comes to BL?

Omg, yes, someone asked me!!!!!

I will die on this hill, fite me.

*ahem*

Cupid’s Last Wish is a good series!

I know there is a shit ton of hate for this series and I have absolutely no idea why. It is a masterclass in physical acting, seriously, it is phenomenal! The story is very basic, because the focus of the series is the character’s journey and self discovery. Korn and Win already knows they’re in love, the story begins with them already knowing that they love one another, they just haven’t acted on those feelings nor have they admitted their feelings to one another. But never once does the narrative act like we the viewers are supposed to wonder if they love one another, that’s not the point of the plot. It’s how miscommunication and grief can blind someone so much that they lose themselves within those feelings.

In the case of the series, Win literally loses himself thanks to his anger. He nearly kills his body and damns his sister’s soul, so he must go on a pilgrimage with Korn to heal his own soul whilst his body is wavering between life and death which could very well take his sister’s soul with it. Korn, his best friend of 22 years and soulmate is the only person who can see him whilst trapped in his sister Lin’s body, because Korn always sees Win for who he really is. And of course we have the conniving mother, a well meaning family friend and a mysterious monk.

This is some of Mix’s best acting, not just as Win since Mix doesn’t usually play such a toxic character. But because for most of the runtime he is playing a male character trapped inside a female’s body, trying to trick everyone expect for three people that he is in fact a woman. Jan is fantastic in the role as well, because when she’s onscreen she must act as if she is a male stuck in an woman’s body with a male’s mind, trying to convince people she’s a woman.

It’s a complete mind fuck! Mix and Jan are fantastic as Win, the way they carry themselves, walk the same, stand the same, take up the same space, speak the same way. But don’t think Earth has it easy in this series either, because he had to make sure he held, touched and spoke to Mix and Jan exactly the same way. So when they edited the scenes to overlap, seeing Jan’s body instead of Mix’s, Earth is in the exact same position with both of them.

Seriously, if you dropped this series, try it again. Watch it just for the acting, because it’s phenomenal.

Also it has what might be the best onscreen reaction to menstruation from a male’s point of view without it being misogynistic, gross or rude. They make some jokes, like Korn not knowing what kind of pads to get for Win when he starts his period, and of course how Win feels having to care for and clean his sister’s body in a respectful manner. How he experiences her emotions, her hormonal shift, the pain of cramps, the way his whole body aches and how sick he feels. Korn is also so caring, trying to help Win through something he’d never experienced before without crossing a line with Lin’s body because whilst it’s Win, his best friend and love of his life, and when he looks at Lin he sees Win in his mind, it is still Lin’s body physically there. And as much as he loved Win, wanted Win, Lin was a baby sister to him and he could not, would not, touch Lin’s body in a sexual manner.

At the end of the series when he admits to Win and Lin’s mother that ‘something happened’ between him and Lin (it was Win, but in Lin’s body) all he meant was that Win had kissed him. Yes, he had kissed Win, shared a bed with Win, but he knew how that looked to people who didn’t know it was Win in Lin’s body. So to keep Lin from being shamed he agreed to marry her, instead of trying to explain to their mother that the assumption she was making about Korn taking Lin’s virginity was wrong.

There are fantastic villain characters in the form of the scheming aunt and uncle. Not to mention the family secret, Win and Lin’s mother facing her homophobia concerning her son, Lin being in love with someone else and of course Korn being forced into a mess that he did not want to be a part of but considering he had been friends with Win for 22 years and loved him more than life, how could he say no?

It’s a beautiful story, it’s funny, well acted and has Mix working with animals!

[fellow-fandom-fruitifier]

This is a part two to this post, because @/senseless12 asked for one, so here you go!!!!!

After the cemetery scene Niko catches up with Edwin. He's still riled up and emotional and having someone so kind and understanding next to him has him finally opening up about everything. She finds out that Edwin is so convinced it's his fault he's in Hell, that if he could just like girls everything would be okay. But instead he went and fell head over heels for his BOY best friend.

Niko, as wonderful as she is, is only sixteen. She can't help him. Not in the way he needs. So instead she hugs him in the dirty grass under withering trees and tells him it'll be okay. Let Edwin cry 2k24.

Back with Charles and Crystal is dead, dreadful silence. Neither feel good, not at all. Crystal can't believe she assumed Edwin did something horrible enough to deserve Hell when, in reality, it was a tragic incident. She feels like everything David ever said she was.

And Charles can't believe Edwin never told him -- which makes him feel like the world's biggest hypocrite -- and he can't believe he ever doubted his best mate. He never should've doubted Edwin. Not for a second. Not the boy who he's spent over 30 years with, the boy who read to him as he was dying despite his fear of Death.

The contemplative, guilty silence is broken by Maren calling Crystal. Everything gets shoved aside to find Niko and Edwin and continue the case. (Crystal doesn't comment on their state -- not the protective, scolding furrow to Niko's red, watery eyes; and certainly not Edwin's defeated, disheveled slouch. The way his bowtie is more crooked than normal, nor the way his eyes aren't any better than Niko's. She sucks in the guilt and holds it somewhere close to her heart. Hard and heavy and deserved.)

(Charles tries, he opens his mouth, closes it, and tries again. But what can he say to make this better? He can't make anything better.)

So they continue the case, everything goes pretty much the same if more stilted, and job well jobbed.

As I'm sure we all know, the Monty kiss is this episode. It would happen the exact same way, but now Edwin's thinking he's just undone all his progress in begging for leniency. Maybe they could forgive him if he never gave into these sinful urges, but if he did? He wouldn't stand a chance.

AND! Because Niko went with the gang last time, there was no Jenny x Maxine date!! (Sorry guys but the poor girl can only be in one place at a time. If you can find a way to fit it in, go ham!!) So there's no reason for her to rip down her love decor.

Crystal still loses her powers and shit. Then Monty appears with his Glady's case and Edwin is caught between wanting to fix it and worried about further damnation. Niko tries to insist that her and Edwin stay back, and neither Crystal or Charles feel like they can argue, Monty tries but the look on Niko's face shuts him right up. In the end it's Edwin who tells her it's okay. She should stay back and rest, he understands work doesn't help her the same way it helps him.

And so, reluctantly, Niko let's them go off. (She winds up pestering Jenny so much out of worry, so Jenny still snaps at her. Niko has her whole thing but instead she feels like no matter how hard she tries, she can't be a good enough friend -- and what if she makes everything worse? -- and should just hide away. Jenny helps.)

The Glady's case goes very similar but Crystal is actively trying not to be as mean to Edwin, and Edwin is trying to pretend like everything is normal and that yesterday didn't happen. Unfortunately, there's not much to change with the Monty-Cat King-Edwin and Charles-Crystal-David scenes. Nor Teeth Face.

After all is said and done, they get home. And Crystal finally pulls Edwin to the side for an apology and he laughs because she's not any better at apologizing. But he reluctantly admits that it's not like he gave her many reasons to like him, and they both agree to try and be less hostile.

The next day Edwin finally decides he's had enough keeping secrets from Charles so, with the help from an over-the-moon Niko, he gets all dressed up and heads over to Crystal's. Niko drags Crystal off excitedly whispering that she'll explain later, but they need to give the boys some space. Insert the Night Nurse. WOMP WOMP

Edwin, down in Hell, has a second to think. He's been hiding this from Charles for thirty odd years and the secong he finally confesses is when he gets dragged off. Maybe he deserves it. To be down here. I mean, it could just be a cruel coincidence, but with Hell there's no such thing as coincidences or mistakes. The Night Nurse said so herself.

The scene with Simon and Despair goes very similar, the biggest difference is that Edwin doesn't truly believe what he's saying but. Niko does. And maybe that's enough.

Charles comes down and, as I mentioned in this additional post, Edwin confesses on the stairway to try and convince Charles to leave him. That someone of his predisposition doesn't deserve to be saved by someone as good as Charles. Charles says fuck that.

He doesn't give a shit who Edwin likes, he's actually honoured it's him, and anyone else Edwin ever likes should feel the damn same. And Edwin should never ever feel ashamed for things outside of his control, and if Hell truly wants to take him for liking boys then they'll have to go through Charles first. (Knowing Edwin's gay -- and loves him -- snowballs Charles bi awakening bcz, like, if Edwin's queer then it can't be wrong. Bcz it's Edwin. And nothing about Edwin is wrong or bad, obviously.)

So they escape, Niko badasses all over the place, and hugs go all around. Crystal takes her memory balls and oh God, time to run away!!!! Niko absolutely told Crystal about Edwin's attempted confession in this AU so I don't think she would kiss Charles goodbye. At least, not in front of Edwin. She wants to be a better person and is viscerally aware how dickish it would be to kiss her friends crush in front of them, even if he's hers too.

Fuck Esther, Niko dies (As Edwin would say, "NOOOOO!! NIKOOO!!!!!!") Edwin would maybe kiss the Cat King's cheek? In this AU Edwin is still not very accepting of himself even after everything, so if he does kiss Cat King it's very tentative and unsure, but hopeful. He's nowhere near as confident and cunty about it as canon. They go back to London and Night Nurse Night Nurses all over the place.

Post canon Cryland could go a couple ways, but the way I imagine it is this: Charles needs time to think, which Crystal expected. She's not happy about it but she did expect it. She feels like a third wheel a good chunk of the time until something happens that brings her and Edwin closer. Where Niko helped Edwin start his journey accepting his queerness, Crystal will help accept his femininity. They are such big gossips, they love RuPaul's Drag Race, and she slowly works him up into allowing makeovers.

Now, Charles is supportive, but feeling kinda left out. He has no idea what goes on in their sleepover, just that Crystal says no straight boys allowed. (With a meaningful, challenging glint to her eye. Emphasis on straight.) Finally, Edwin and Crystal fold to his puppy eyes and allow him in on a sleepover. Now, if you know a single thing about girls/gays inviting straight boys to sleepovers, you know exactly what happened. They use him as a dress up doll but he can't even be mad because they're getting along and LITERALLY GIGGLING. Also he's never seen Edwin with lipstick before and it's Doing Something™️ to him.

More angst because nothing can stay happy for long. Charles is confused and trying to figure himself out, and while Edwin can wait forever, Crystal can't. She might start to push him for answers, get impatient, etc. In the end they have a fight or something and Crystal decides she can't do this on and off situationship anymore, so she takes a break from the agency.

Now it's Edwin's turn to be caught in the middle, comforting both Charles and Crystal to the best of his abilities. But this isn't something he's used to. Maybe he messes up, says the wrong thing, and now one of them is angry with Edwin. (I personally think it would hurt more for it to be Charles. Edwin could try and explain Crystal's side of things, and Charles could take it as Edwin blaming him. So now the entire agency is in shambles. Night Nurse is also probably breathing down Edwin's neck.)

Crystal, as hurt as she is, isn't going to let Charles misinterpret Edwin and take their argument out on him. So, despite how hurt she is, and Edwin's protests, she storms over to the agency and confronts Charles. Which is ironically how they finally figure their shit out because, as upset they may be at each other, they both agree it isn't fair to give each other the cold shoulder and force Edwin to take the brunt of their frustrations. They realize that Edwin has also been taking the brunt of the Night Nurse and both decide to give him a break. Crystal deals with the paperwork for a month and Charles deals with the meetings and Night Nurse directly. (They don't understand how Edwin did this single-handedly for weeks and swear to never fight again.💀💀)

( @mirabel-on-a-bicycle also asked for more so here u go!!!!)

[alerrison]

my mom saw a facebook post from someone local fostering kittens looking to home them and is now in talks to bring home a little 4 month old black cat. we're going to meet the kitten on Thursday and if things go well we'll probably be bringing them home that day.

which is very exciting! only is also happens to be the 1 year anniversary of when we had to put Pumpkin down so I have some conflicting feelings about it. mostly happy. largely happy tbh. but man I miss my buddy so bad.

[quatregats]

I'm rereading Master and Commander and I'm deeply in danger of just posting every single passage from it ever but I did love the way that the capture of the prize in Chapter 6 was framed on either side by the logbook's entry, and also the way he transitions out of it to set the scene and tone:

Sunday, July 1 … Mustered the ship’s company by divisions read the Articles of War performed Divine Service and committed the body of Henry Gouges to the deep. At noon dº weather. Ditto weather: but the sun sank towards a livid, purple, tumescent cloud-bank piled deep on the western horizon, and it was clear to every seaman aboard that it was not going to remain ditto much longer. The seamen, sprawling abroad on the fo’c’sle and combing out their long hair or plaiting it up again for one another, kindly explained to the landmen that this long swell from the south and east, this strange sticky heat that came both from the sky and the glassy surface of the heaving sea, and this horribly threatening appearance of the sun, meant that there was to be a coming dissolution of all natural bonds, an apocalyptic upheaval, a right dirty night ahead. The sailormen had plenty of time to depress their hearers, already low in their spirits because of the unnatural death of Henry Gouges (had said, ‘Ha, ha, mates, I am fifty years old this day. Oh dear,’ and had died sitting there, still holding his untasted grog) – they had plenty of time, for this was Sunday afternoon, when in the course of nature the fo’c’sle was covered with sailors at their ease, their pigtails undone. Some of the more gifted had queues they could tuck into their belts; and now that these ornaments were loosened and combed out, lank when still wet, or bushy when dry and as yet ungreased, they gave their owners a strangely awful and foreboding look, like oracles; which added to the landmen’s uneasiness.

[...]

Jack leant back against the curved run of the stern-window and let Killick’s version of coffee down by gulps into his grateful stomach; and at the same time that its warmth spread through him, so there ran a lively tide of settled, pure, unfevered happiness – a happiness that another commander (remembering his own first prize) might have discerned from the log-entry, although it was not specifically mentioned there: 1/2 past 10 tacked, 11 in courses, reefed topsail. AM cloudy and rain. 1/2 past 4 chase observed E by S, distance 1/2 mile. Bore up and took possession of dº, which proved to be L’Aimable Louise, French polacre laden with corn and general merchandise for Cette, of about 200 tons, 6 guns and 19 men. Sent her with an officer and eight men to Mahon.

[giantkillerjack]

Favorite part about Death Note is that Light gets the Note and IMMEDIATELY becomes a serial killer fascist with a god complex.

No build-up, no Fall From Grace, no slow corruption of a good boy gradually becoming a monster. Just-- SPEED RUN STRATS. And I love that for him.

Tbh, I think there are a lot of folks (especially boys) from my high school days who would have immediately become monsters if given the power of life and death over every person around them.

It's kind of like how when people have apparently casual ableist beliefs, and you push them to elaborate on that just a little bit, they'll often end up openly saying stuff like "well, some people are just too disabled to be worth the resources it takes to support them." - Which is... eugenics. It's just eugenics, justified by the myth of scarcity. Now these folks almost certainly won't call it eugenics, or even think of it that way. But that doesn't make it NOT a core belief of the Nazis.

In a similar way, Light seems like a nice and well-adjusted boy with strong beliefs. No harm in that.

But to paraphrase Lindsay Ellis in her analysis of the Game of Thrones ending, "Power doesn't necessarily corrupt. Power reveals." [I think she was quoting someone else when she said this. It was someone who wrote a biography on LBJ. Whatever. Lindsay said it and she's smart as hell and I recommend her videos.]

And 15 minutes into the Death Note musical, I'm already thinking about how so many beliefs "casually" held by well-adjusted, nice people immediately reveal their monstrousness when talked through to their natural conclusion.

And I wonder how many of those people, given the power of life and death over everyone around them - the power to take their ideas to their natural conclusions - would also immediately reveal how their lack of self-reflection has laid the groundwork for them to become monsters.

[svtskneecaps]

literally it's 3am where i live and i'm on mobile but FUCK IT i haven't posted any actual writing in like a YEAR on this blog whose description include the words "I WRITE" and i can't tell if i'm even going anywhere with this so fuck it under the cut is the prospective absolute mess of the first chapter of the flipo family time loop fic. (for clarity, flipo family as in slime, mariana, and juanaflippa) this covers loop 0, aka the relevant parts of canon. words: 1630

parts of it i popped off with and other parts i hate; up to you to identify them. also the italics and other formatting got erased when i copy pasted and i'm re-adding all of it by hand so if i missed a spot, no i didn't. if i missed an accent on a letter in spanish that was a typo, if i missed a ¡ or ¿ that may have been on purpose.

oh and for obvious reasons, content warning for mentions and mild descriptions of child death and child murder. no blood, and most of it is a three word mention; i'd say the brief paragraph beginning "Tilín didn't scream" is most of the reason this warning exists.

Charlie Slimecicle stepped off the train.

He’d been hoping for a bright, sunny day to start their vacation, but was sorely disappointed. The portal had apparently taken them pretty far, since they’d gone from noon to night time. Talk about jetlag. They hadn’t even been on a plane.

“What happened to the other guys?” he wondered aloud as he stepped onto the platform.

“Yeah no clue,” Phil said, scanning the empty station. “Thought they’d meet us here.”

“Guys!” one of the Spanish speakers--Vegetta, he’d said, when they’d all met up at the first station--called, from a lectern at the wall. “There is a book!”

They crowded around as he read the instructions aloud--something about pressure plates, Slime wasn’t paying that close of attention. He was a little more preoccupied with making sure it only felt like his brain was dripping out of his ears. That would be kind of embarrassing.

Which was not to say that he wasn’t enjoying the constant onslaught of people talking over each other using words he may or may not understand. In fact, it was the opposite; he was frankly thriving in the absolute chaos that kicked back up around him as a timer appeared in the wrist communicators they’d been provided along with their tickets.

“Como se dice ‘we are going to die now’?” He giggled, chasing Phil and Fit to one end of the station.

“¡Vamos a morir!” shouted Spiderman, echoed seconds later by the black bear in the collared shirt.

Giddy over the high of attempting to use his high school foreign language for the first time maybe ever, Slime absolutely didn’t contribute much to solving the puzzle, and before long the sound of the timer ticking down was accompanied by a loud buzzing alarm.

“It’s been an honor!” he shrieked at the top of his lungs. “It’s been an honor!”

The bear ran past them again, shouting, “I’m going to die!” in English this time.

“Adiós amigos!” Slime yelled.

The countdown ended.

And then his communicator buzzed, and there was a video playing on the screen, showing a cartoonish yellow duck in front of a blurry beach stock photo. He skimmed it absently--some generic welcoming message and another side quest for them--distracted by Maximus audibly losing his shit laughing across the station.

“Come on, I’m trying to take a vacation, I gotta work now?” Fit complained. “This is ridiculous.”

Slime wanted to jump on that bit, but the message cut off with coordinates marred by static and the noise of the emergency weather alert system and he lost his train of thought completely.

“I got the English book!” Spreen called, holding it with two fingers like it had personally offended him.

“English leader,” Vegetta said, seeming to find that amusing.

“English leader.” Spreen laughed and flicked the book away. Slime stepped back but somehow it still nailed him in the chest.

“Guess I’m reading then,” he said cheerfully.

“In Spanish?” Maximus said.

“Um.”

Vegetta called something, backing across the plaza with the book open in his hands. Phil backed up to the wall.

“Here,” Phil instructed, “we’ll read it here.”

“Okay okay.” He flicked it open. “So we have to get water wheel planks--”

Their peace lasted a grand total of thirty seconds as voices suddenly began shouting, overlapping in chaotic chorus.

“What is that?” Fit demanded.

“Is that coming from the other side?” Phil stared up at the top of the wall.

“This is the thinnest thick wall I’ve ever seen,” Slime said, giddy laughter bubbling out of him again. “Is this thing made out of pencil shavings? If I sneeze on it, is there gonna be a hole?”

“Nevermind, we’ll read it over here.” Phil dragged them away again, but the Spanish speakers were dispersing into the trees.

“Forget the book,” Fit said, “follow them!”

(In the end it was explosives that took the wall down, which in hindsight was a precursor to how a not insignificant portion of time on the island was spent. The first day, however, it was just funny, much like everything else.)

(That was to say, the first first day.)

The communicator had indicated that today there was something special planned, so he made an extra effort to wake up.

“Morning Jaiden!” he called to his upstairs neighbor.

“Hi Charlie!” He could hear her farming through the wall. “Glad you woke up on time!”

“Well you know, you know, El Backflipo couldn’t miss it,” he joked, sifting through his backpack. “Got any spare food? I’ll trade you uno backflipo.”

“I have so much toast, come here and get some, free of charge.”

With a quick backflip and some toast to start the day, he popped open the map.

“There’s a lot of people down the wall,” he noted, their green dots so clustered they formed one. “Wanna check it out?”

“Yeah sure.” Jaiden tossed some seeds into a chest. “Do you know what this event’s gonna be?”

“I have no idea,” he admitted cheerfully.

She laughed. “Yeah, me neither. I guess there’s an egg involved, but that’s all I know.”

He dug around in his backpack for a paraglider, nodding along. “Yeah, yeah, un huevo, I get you.” Shuffling the landmine from Vegetta to one side, he yanked out his glider and threw himself out her window. “Let’s go!”

(nothing like getting struck by lightning to wake a guy up in the morning)

Slime fiddled with the communicator as he waited for the line of people to get through the ticket machine; he already had his own, a nice B for Backflipo. The new live translations still boggled his mind. He had to fight the urge to chant weird shit under his breath, just to see what the bubbles would say.

He paid a little extra attention when Mariana walked up to the machine. That guy seemed cool. They’d done that pequeño dormir together on day one, and he had a good sense of humor. Egg parenting would probably be funny.

He was thrilled to see the B for Backflipo on the ticket Mariana stepped away with, even if Mariana was decidedly less so. This was gonna be good.

(it was, and it wasn’t)

So, Mariana wasn’t exactly the coparent of dreams. Then again, Slime was pretty sure Mariana could say the same about him. In fact he was pretty sure Mariana had said the same, but in Spanish, when he wasn’t checking the translation.

It was great. They thought they’d killed a child immediately and then decided to fake their own child’s death to get away with it, and then confessed their sins to a bilingual angel and built a farm and then he buried himself beneath an improvised cross and went into a coma until his sins were forgiven, or something, except his sins weren’t forgiven in time to save his own child’s life.

And then Juanaflippa was dead. Dead at Mariana’s hand.

His bitch wife killed their daughter.

(Everything went faster, after that.)

Slime wanted to kill him.

Slime wanted to kill him for killing their fucking daughter, but of course, Mariana couldn’t even be bothered to be around to take care of her alive, never mind to pay for his crimes when she died by his hand!

(in a better world, his rage started and ended there. in a better world, the anger fizzled out with the lack of a target.

this was not that world)

There couldn’t be an Egg Event with no eggs.

If he killed them all, it would bring her back.

(in a worse world, he succeeded. in a worse world, the Egg Event ended there.

this was not that world)

They held a trial.

If he won, it would bring her back.

(in another world, he didn’t convince them. in another world, they left his daughter in Hell.

this was not that world)

Tilín was still before she hit the ground.

Tilín didn’t scream. Maybe they didn’t have time. It happened so fast. He was sure it happened fast. Almost too fast. But everything went so fast, now, even though Flippa was back. Yet, time slowed down for this, like a rubberneck driving past a highway accident, watching him desperately trying to shock their heart back into motion.

“YOU KILL MY BEST FRIENDS,” Flippa wrote. He begged her to understand. She wrote, “i can’t believe it.”

She wrote, “I HATE YOU.”

(in a better world, the error would have been caught in April instead of July.

this was not that world)

His daughter fell to his bitch wife’s sword. The same way. The next day.

They’d only just gotten her back. And Mariana killed her again.

He only left eggxile for the funeral. She wouldn’t stay dead, but he had to be there.

Time went even faster after that. He was Gegg, or maybe Gegg was him, or maybe Gegg was Gegg, or maybe. . . ?

He went back to eggxile.

He wasn’t leaving without them. Tilín. Juanaflippa. He would do whatever was necessary. He would pray to any higher power. Lil J still owed him a goddamn favor, but the guy wouldn’t pick up his calls. Maybe if he put more shit in the shrine; angels liked shiny shit, didn’t they? He went back to the mine, where the gasses swirled in his head. He built the shrine. He mined. He built the shrine.

He went back to the mine.

He went back to the mine.

He went back to the mine.

“This is where I sit, this is where my bitch wife sits, and this is where my daughter sits, if I had one!”

He’d said that before. No he hadn’t. Yes he had.

No, he just needed to clear his head.

Charlie Slimecicle went back to the mine.

Charlie Slimecicle stepped off the train.

[krbkss]

mha 395

has anyone brought this up yet </3

[okcoolthanks]

Off topic but Whale reminds me of qsmp slimecicle from when he like went to fucking eggsile what the fuck ever kill me

[the-busy-ghost]

Warning- this is a very petty post, but I think I'm entitled to at least one petty, pissed-off reaction every time I finish a classic novel that hit harder than I expected so take this as my quota for the year.

Also spoiler warning for a book that came out over a century ago but still, I didn't know the plot going in so don't want to ruin it for anyone else, if you haven't read it shut your eyes. (Also Local Tumblr User Going Wild Over Book Published a Hundred Years Ago That Everybody Else Already Read should probably be categorised as akey part of indigenous tumblr culture at this point).

Anyway I just finished the War of the Worlds and in between studying I've thinking about Themes and Motifs as you do, and idly looking for further analysis. I then accidentally ran into an article called 'A Quiet Place II Succeeds Where the War of the Worlds Failed' and:

Now I haven't seen any of the Quiet Place films, this is not a rant against them and of course everyone is entitled to their own opinions. But re: the ending of The War of the Worlds, I have to ask, did this guy somehow miss, uh, the entire point of the book or am I just utterly insane?

[benetnvsch]

OH OH just realized my Oda-coded friend ,, actually ??? shares a birthday with him wow this will have No Impact on my wellbeing At All ?!???uhashhh?

[orcelito]

every FUCKING time i tell someone my uncle died there's a moment where im just really casual with it bc it's just a simple fact. and then theyre like "oh my god im so sorry" and im just. caught by surprise by it like. oh yeah. this Is sad. this Is fucked up. it's reasonable for me to be upset by it.

and i just laugh it off like "yeah, that's how things are i guess" & try to push things along bc i deal so badly with being emotionally vulnerable with people

things are... hard.

[todayisafridaynight]

SO! I've wanted to talk about The Clip all day but felt like I should wait until the tumblr "premiere" (even though I think you were literally one of the first people to see it on Twitter lol). Thank you for defending my honor btw even if I am just Someone <3

But. Yes. Yeah. Yokoyama's absolute certainty in saying that??? Without anything to even buffer it? No maybe. No "don't expect too much." Just point-blank in front of a huge fan (whom I believe he's now going to be working with), a staff member, and a massive audience. As if that part isn't the matter of contention. I WILL be injecting those words directly into my veins for some time.

I was on the verge of choking and/or spewing blood and/or crying before posting it though lol, so I really appreciate the vote of confidence regarding the translation and I love your redraw! The reception as a whole has been really nice, although I wish people would keep it to themselves if they'd rather have Nishiki or Ryuji back or whatever. Not like it's a race, but even if it was, Mine's been in last place for ages lol.

And while I enjoy Y3's writing more than most, Mine's death wasn't some Grand Meaningful Statement, it was the decision of a fledgling studio that never knew if it would be able to keep making these games trying to tell a self-contained story. It did have far-reaching consequences for the series, but those consequences are also... not really relevant anymore?

Like, I can and have argued that Mine's death caused the fall of the Tojo Clan, but the clan has already fallen. So I don't see why some people are acting like revisiting his character would be A Spit In The Face to the saga somehow, but I guess I've never really been against characters being brought back...? A quote from the staff that's always stuck with me from the staff is that RGG is always going for RGG-ism, not realism.

Ranting aside... I honestly don't know if I should be saying this, but there's this new guy working the counter at Survive in some LaD8 behind the scenes footage. Now, upfront, I'm 99.8% sure it's not Mine (I happen to have a 100% accuracy rate so far identifying major RGG characters from extremely blurry images and silhouettes lmao), and I have no idea who it is, whether it's a new character or an old one heavily redesigned or Just Some Guy.

But he's not Kashiwagi. And he happens to have slicked-back dark brown hair with what appears to be an ahoge in some angles. And, unless the materials are temporary, he also dresses A Lot Like the celebrity Mine's design was based on. And his features... line up closely enough to piss me off, even though they don't fully match in the end, which is why I don't think it's him.

I'm in argumentative essay mode 100% of the time which is why I'm saying this in a "convincing" tone despite literally not believing it myself, but like... wouldn't that be something? To just have Mine part-timing at Survive or whatever and no one makes a big deal of it because they don't know any better? If nothing else, I really do think he should get The Bartender Treatment.

I dunno, I might post about it with a comparison tomorrow because it's been on my mind lately, especially with The News, but I really don't want people to get the wrong idea either. Or embarrass myself if it was too tenuous of a link to look that deeply into from the start lol

I remember seeing it two minutes after you posted it, so I can imagine I was one of the first to the scene of the crime (so my friends put it LMAO). AND OF COURSE I- and a lot of us- can't be any more grateful for all the work you do than we already are. I'd go insane trying to document and manage everything you do! especially when you have insane people like me ready to pounce on the smallest thing like I know I'd cry FJLKAJ The least I can do is give a proper title/credit to you when I can o7

If Yokoyama had any remaining hesitance about Mine being alive, then he REALLY would have fumbled by sounding so certain. Like in his old tweet, he certainly sounded more ambiguous, but this time he really had no extra notes and sounded more sure of himself. I won't expect RGG to do anything with Mine, but the concept is still very much exciting and the idea that Yokoyama almost seems earnest about the idea of bringing Mine back for whatever reason is very nice to know :] And thank you about enjoying the art I did! I can't lie in the slightest, since the last ask where you alluded to posting the clip, I had that drawing saved in the back of my head ready to make once you had that posted LMAO

But oohh not to touch drama since I generally try to Not touch it, but yeah I can't act like I haven't seen some people be. ""Interesting"" about the idea of Mine being alive. I won't dive too deep into it, but I think my major issue with the few grievances I've seen is that RGG hasn't done anything with Mine's alive status. As of right now, it's just a thing Yokoyama said, so I don't understand the need to be so angry about it (it's especially weird to say Ryuji hasn't been back when he not only got to be a playable protagonist in Dead Souls, but he was also the protagonist of RGGO- though I suppose I can understand wanting him in the mainline series again. Still, it's weird to act as though Mine's back any more than he is and being upset about it just because Yokoyama said he was alive)...

Moving on though, I'm really curious as to this 'mystery figure' you mean. I've been missing out on LaD8 production material, so I haven't seen this bit myself but I'd love to take a stab at it and analyze myself too. I agree though: if Mine does come back- whether he's working at Survive or anywhere else- I would greatly prefer if he had The Bartender status and was just never really called attention to and only existed in the background

[hailsatanacab]

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!!

---

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.

[allthegothihopgirls]

everyone talks about how bruce talks about his 'babies' as if they're just sweet little kids, when they are OBVIOUSLY not (shocking everyone who meets them). but i think dick would do the Exact Same Thing:

dick: "and you're gonna LOVE my baby brother jason, he's so smart, and has such a sense of empathy. but god does he just get bigger every day, they grow up so fast"

enter 6'5 literal mountain jason todd, who looks like he's going to snap someone's neck if they so much as look at him the wrong way.

dick: "sometimes i'm just blown away by tim's genius. i'm always so proud of him when he accomplishes new things, but every time it just reminds me how independent he's getting. he's so full of life too, it's hard to keep up with him."

enter tim, who looks like he's met death and bears all of the world's secrets. although perpetually battered and worn down, he is also, not a baby.

dick: "oh and damian... he's the littlest one, and he's just the cutest, always learning and wanting to be just like his big brothers. he's so sweet too, not a mean bone in his body"

enter damian.. this one fits the size description at least.