#check it out: time for the babies

[2014federalbudget]

MDZS/CQL Characters as Kamen Riders (p3)

[bucephaly]

Theres moreeee, this is so so good.. it makes me emotional realizing that these kids are on the path to being fluent cherokee speakers and will be able to keep the language going.

This family is a part of the little cherokee seeds program, creating new first language Cherokee speakers by paying mothers to just bring their babies and craft and cook and speak cherokee with cherokee elders all day. There are only 1500 first language Cherokee speakers, most of them over 65. They also take donations if you want to help keep them going and doing the extremely important work they do!!

[leafyeyes417]

Danny is glad he actually made a plan for once. Jazz had been on his back about telling their parents he was Phantom, and he had managed to convince her he had a plan. The only thing that would extend how long it took was the frequency of ghost attacks.

He generally didn’t have much free time, so luckily Clockwork was willing to put him in a time bubble so he could get stuff done, like get enough sleep. But mostly he was training. Sometimes with Wulf to make portals, but other ghosts had come by too.

The power that was giving him the most trouble, and that he needed most for his plan was duplication. It took forever and he still couldn’t have more than 3 versions of himself at one time. How Vlad managed so many he had no idea.

Anyway back to his plan. He got all his stuff that he couldn’t afford to lose hidden away, got copies of all his parents blueprints and files, replaced items that he didn’t feel comfortable letting them keep if worse case scenario came, and a few more miscellaneous things.

He decided not to tell Sam and Tucker what he was doing. Though he did give them a mysterious file that they weren’t able to open yet. It would lead them to him later. But he needed their reactions to be legitimate, even if he hated having to potentially distress them for a bit.

He then sent his duplicate in his place back home while he went to the Ghost Zone to keep learning and keep an eye on things. Hopefully things went well, but he planned to spend a full living realm month here just in case his parents faked taking it well.

————————————————————————

It did not go well. About two weeks after his duplicate told his parents they knocked him out and buried him in a ghost proof coffin. Was he glad he wouldn’t have to experience his worse fears as a lab experiment? Yes. Was he still going to have nightmares of being trapped underground unable to escape? Also yes.

He was glad it was his duplicate though. It was easy for him to undo from a distance and since they had been connected he still had all the memories. He typed in the code for the file he gave his friends before he left. Time to go to Gotham, the one place he was able to wheedle out of Clockwork would be best for him.

[theloveinc]

Just thought about … oh my god. Bakugo’s first real battle with a formidable villain after your kid is born; he’s not exactly “out of shape” (he never quit the gym, routine, etc… just changed it), but he’s thrown down hard in the first couple seconds, and he’s slower to get back into position—taking the time to steady his feet and assess the terrain, pushing out the lil tummy he gained feeding you postpartum delicacies as he cracks his back—

And the villain, god help them, decides to call out to him as they use the few seconds of vulnerability to attack again, screaming, “hey pop pop, don’t tell me parenthood has made you soft! How ‘bout I start calling you ‘daddy,’ too?”

Just as Bakugo’s turning back around with a new fire in his eyes, blood all warmed up, and shooting off to grab them by the throat to end the fight in one single move.

[faeriekit]

The Foster Mother

Now on ao3 and VHS release

There was, supposedly, someone waiting for him in the green sitting room.

“…Why?” Tim asked. Most of the usual suspects had already come by to give their “condolences”—former Drakes Industries investors, curious about the newly orphaned heir; fellow socialites, once again flocking in to give and receive sympathies for their “close friends, the Drakes”; gawkers come to see what they could scavenge off of a dead family’s home, never mind that their child was alive.

“She claims to know you, Master Tim,” Alfred offered, kettle in his hand. He spent a moment deciding between different two canisters of tea; a sign of possibly difficult future conversation. “Her interest in your father's estate seemed quite…minimal.”

…Alright.

Tim was still in his formalwear. Dissolving Drake Industries would take at least another year, and plenty of future hours cementing the future home of certain resources in their dissolution, but the outfit probably was more appropriate for whatever oncoming conversation that was about to ensue than his planned change into Dick’s old hoodie and board shorts.

Okay. Tim steeled himself. The self-determination…mostly worked. Whatever. He trudged up into the green sitting room from the kitchen with his usual introduction ready on his tongue.

And then Tim walked into the room.

And then Jazzy was there.

*

Tim had been three, and Miss Jasmine had been his had been his third nanny. He’d outgrown the wetnurse early on, and his second nanny had been dismissed, so although Miss Jasmine was the third nanny, she was first nanny Tim could consciously remember.

She’d had red hair. She’d been very gentle with him.

She got him up in the morning and put him to bed at night; for the first time, there had been someone who sat with him until he was asleep, reading all sorts of books his parents had left to engage him with as an early genius. Then, when those were over and done as promised to his parents, they got unauthorized books from the library: silly books with made-up words, dinosaur books, books about teddy bears and adventures around the world.

Tim hadn’t been allowed to travel the world. Tim hadn’t been allowed a teddy bear. His parents had thought it would encourage undue attachment.

(It had been the same reason he’d never been given a pacifier.)

Miss Jazz had given him a knitted bunny. She’d said her dad had made it especially for him.

The toy’s name was Bunny and Tim remembered him being very soft.

She didn’t smile all the time, but smiles were rewards that were easy to earn. He finished his meal and she smiled. He finished an educational puzzle and she smiled. He was quiet all through her phone call and she smiled, and answered all his questions once she was done.

Jazzy had been the first person in his life who was there all the time. She’d kissed his forehead after the bath and kissed his scraped knees; she’d carried him in his arms when he was tired and sometimes even when he wasn’t. His parents had wanted him to be independent, proactive, and not clingy, but Jazzy had been someone who he could run to from his bed when he’d had nightmares and someone he could cuddle on her lap with when he’d cried.

She was gone when he was seven. He didn’t remember why. His parents had probably never told him, but still; he'd assumed he'd have found out why eventually.

Jazzy looked the same right now as she looked in Tim’s memories, although she was likely no longer a college student at a nannying gig. Her red hair was pulled into a high bun, her dress modest and conservative from her neck to her ankles. There was a backpack beside her foot. She was sitting, one leg crossed over the other, on the high-backed loveseat in the green sitting room.

She looked up when he came in.

Tim. Stopped in his tracks.

It didn’t matter. Jazzy—Miss Jasmine stood up as soon as she saw him, eyes alight with worry. Foggy memories were swimming to the forefront of Tim’s brain. He couldn’t move.

“Tim?” Ja—Miss Jasmine asked, teal eyes raking over his frame. Tim froze where he was. He didn’t move, wide-eyed and terrified for no reason at all when Miss Jasmine got closer to him, at a distance that was more appropriate for a conversation.

She stood there. Watching him. It felt like his mother had just come home from her trips with Dad, and a ghost of old terror wafted through him as he waited for her to decide he’d done something wrong. Her voice got softer. Her eyes got softer. Why was Tim feeling so wrong-footed?? It was only a former staff person!

“Tim?” her voice was so gentle. “I don’t know if you remember me. I’m—“

“M’s Jazz,” Tim croaked. Which. Wasn’t the level of formality he’d been going for, but better than Jazzy. He wasn’t a toddler anymore.

Miss Jasmine was so tall—honestly, was she taller than Bruce? She’d seemed insurmountable as a child; he hadn’t expected her height to truly be so statuesque as an adult.

(Or. Well. Almost an adult.)

She didn’t quite kneel down, but she did stoop lower, as if Tim was small and he needed to be on equal footing in order to have a serious conversation.

He could see all her freckles. Tim swallowed. It was too familiar. Everything about her was too familiar.

“You’re so big now,” Jazzy whispered, looking at his hair, his suit, his polished shoes. He didn’t feel it. “Oh, you’ve grown up so well.”

Thanks, Tim almost said. Something stopped him—something thick in his throat, to impassable to break through.

“I—“ he tried. He coughed. “Why…you… You’re here?”

Jazzy threw him an incredulous look, and then an incredibly wry one. “Well,” she drawled a little too primly, in the way that Alfred occasionally made obvious statements, “I’d think it obvious that when one’s parents have passed away, that those who care about you might come to check and see if you’re alright.”

Which. That didn’t make sense. Jazzy hadn’t come back for any other reason; she hadn’t come back for his mother’s funeral, nor when his father was injured publicly by a villain. Why start now?

“And,” Jazz added, seeing his visual confusion and distrust, “Your parents can’t exactly threaten me with a kidnapping charge for visiting you when they’re dead.” Pause. “Which I am sorry about. My condolences.”

Which. Whiplash. What a statement.

“Uh,” said Tim, who was rapidly losing control over the situation.

Jazzy stood again, and went back to her seat; she didn’t set herself down, though, as she only stooped to grab her backpack. “I am sorry for being unable to visit, although I really wanted to; you were at a very vulnerable age and had already moved into a class a year above you, and your parents should have been less hasty about replacing your main caretaker. The assassination attempts were unwarranted, but they did drive the point home that attempting contact was perhaps discouraged.”

“What,” said Tim. “Assassin what.”

“They were ninjas,” Jazzy offered, as if that was an answer. “Except the last one, which was a former marine. The point is that I do care about you, and wanted to ask if you had any idea where you’re going now that your parents are no longer…available guardians.”

Tim’s mouth opened. It closed.

Jazzy waited patiently.

“…How have you been?” Tim tried, resorting to a part of the script they hadn’t gone through yet.

Jazzy’s laugh was tired, but no less real. It was nothing like listening to his parents titter politely; he didn’t think Jazzy would even know how to fake a laugh. “Well, my brother told me that my former bosses had died, which was somewhat stressful. Otherwise, I’m pretty happy: I live with my brother and worked with him for the last few years. I was going to pursue medicine, but…well. The assassination attempts made it hard to interview for scholarships. I suppose that I could return to that now,” Jazzy mused, attention now elsewhere. She pulled the backpack off the floor and up into her grip. She opened it, and flipped through its contents. “How are you doing? I know that Wayne Manor fosters, but your parents were always rather…hands off. I thought the difference in levels of attention might be overwhelming.”

It was. Tim should be surprised how clearly she sees through him—

—But Jazzy used to watch him stim for almost a full hour after school, twisting Bunny’s arms back and forth until he could calm down. Seeing other people all day had been too much for him. Coming home from his parents’ parties had been similarly stressful.

She’d never been mad at him for it. She held him while he talked and stimmed and talked and talked and talked, and brushed his hair sometimes, or if it was very late and he was very young, helped him brush his teeth through all the medieval execution facts he could name.

“It is a lot to get used to,” Tim agreed quietly. He didn’t want to be ungrateful. He didn’t want to let on anyone about his plan to leave.

He had an out. The papers had already been filed; there was an actor waiting to play his uncle for a custody battle, ready for the fight.

Tim was ready to up and go. It was no hardship to leave all the good things here; anything beat making Bruce stick his fingers into Tim any deeper than they already were, compromising the dynamic they’d already established.

It was for the best.

“I can imagine,” Jazzy sympathized easily. “And I wanted to offer—well. I know there’s probably a lot of choices available to you, but my brother and I recently moved back to Gotham proper for the time being. He’s teaching astronomy courses at the university and I’m filing paperwork for Arkham patients. It’s not so privileged a home, but it’s quieter, and more central in town.”

…Tim’s heart skipped.

He. He couldn’t stop staring. Jazzy stared back at him, quiet and sure. Sure of what, Tim had no idea, but…

Why? Why would she want Tim? There was no way she would be able to get to his trust fund without his help, and he for sure knew better than to enable her ability to leech from him. The last time she’d known him, Tim had been a snot-nosed kid who cried all the time and couldn’t be normal for twenty consecutive minutes. His parents couldn’t even stand to be on the same hemisphere as him as a child. What appeal did this have for her?? What could having a teenager with severe baggage living in her house do for her?

And it’s not like there was any chance she knew he was Robin!

“Oh,” Jazzy suddenly interrupted. “I brought these for you, by the way. Your parents had tossed them out at various points; I’ve washed them since, of course.”

She handed him the backpack by the handle.

…Tim peeked inside.

On top was Bunny, still a washed-out faded sort of pink. He looked as fresh as he had the day when Tim’s parents had ”cleaned out” Tim’s nursery—in other words, a faded, a little gray, and slightly discolored from an old spaghetti stain. His button eyes were big and blue.

And beneath him were books that hadn’t passed his father’s muster as appropriately masculine reading material: The Velveteen Rabbit, with the cover a little scarred from a fierce attack of wet wipes. There’s A Monster at the End of This Book, with a goofy-looking Muppet on the cover, gold spine beat up beyond belief. Art Tim’s teacher at the time must have laminated and sent home; Tim’s dorky, crayon cat proved he would never make it as an artist, but attached to it was a photograph of a grinning boy with a bowl cut and a missing tooth.

Tim stared. There’d been purple marker on his hands and face. His grin looked…really bad, actually, like as if he was baring his teeth because he didn’t know how to smile. There was no formal grace there. Nothing to show the neighbors, nothing worth framing to put into the line of sight of the investors in the office.

Jazzy had kept it and brought it home with her. Jazzy had fished it out of the trash, and brought it with her to give back to him in Gotham.

It was crinkled like it’d been folded, over and over again. Further down in the bag was a crumpled certificate dedicated to “Timmy Drake, for: knowing a lot about octopi”, and a baby blanket Tim didn’t even remember. It had rocket ships on it. It looked as if someone had cut into it with scissors, although it had been obviously and brightly mended with red embroidery floss later on.

Jazzy had only been his nanny until Tim was seven. She had simply been gone one night, and Mom and Dad had been home for ten nights after without help before giving in and hiring Mrs. McIlvane and Mrs. Edith. Ms. Edith had never been so…permissive…with Tim as Jazzy had been.

Tim swallowed. He carefully put everything back into the backpack, unsure if he even wanted to keep it or not. It wasn’t like he could leave it here; he’d be gone, ideally, before the week was out. There was no point in taking it with him if he only planned to live with a stranger until he was eighteen.

“J…” Tim tried. He cut himself off before he could get too informal without prompting. “Miss Jasmine—“

“Just Jazz,” Jazzy corrected politely.

“—Why are you here?” Tim asked, ignoring how she’d technically already answered. He didn’t believe her. “What made my parents fire you?”

Jazzy’s expression turned…soft. Tim couldn’t look at her. Something horrible was welling with it, and he didn’t know how to cope.

“I’m here because I care about you,” Jazz repeated, and knelt beside him. She looked up into his face, and took his hand. Tim didn’t know why. He was practically an adult—he didn’t need this!

“And I was fired because your Mother overheard you calling me ‘Mommy’ on accident when you were tired. I suppose she was insulted, although I’d never know why; it’s not like she was ever home to bond with you in the first place.”

Tim’s throat closed. He missed his mom. He missed waiting up for his parents’ flight home, seeing their headlights outside the window, and knowing they’d bring home gifts from overseas. He missed using Mom’s perfume, and knowing he’d used more of the bottle sitting on her dressed than she ever had, but that it still smelled like her. He missed hearing his Dad telling all sorts of adventure stories and promises through the phone to be home for the holidays, even if Tim knew there was every chance he’d find some other way to spend the time back in Gotham.

And there was some small child in him who missed Jazzy, who hugged him and walked him to the library and made him soup from a can instead of fancy dinners and, who’d never needed to be waited for in the first place.

Tim looked at Jazzy’s round, freckled face.

He swallowed.

Tim moved out before the end of the week, as expected.

[courfee]

“Regulus would be proud of us,” James whispered quietly to no one in particular, still gripping onto the painting like a life raft. 

— Tender Curiosities, Baby!  @otrtbs

[skellydun]

made it to my tiny cabin and realized I forgot every single book I bought to read so we love that for me

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

Lilith: "Hey Luci check this out." (holds baby charlie up like handbag) "Our infant demon goat child has one of those neck scruff things."

Lucifer: "OHMYGOSH!!! She does!"

Lilith: "Pretty neat huh."

Lucifer: "She's just like a kitten!!"

Lilith: "Try turning into a big cat so you can hold her with your teeth."

Lioness Lucifer: "Ooooh FAMILY PHOTO OPPERTUINITY TIIIIIIME!"

-later-

Charlie: "Dad, we do not need to see the family photos."

Lucifer: "Awww but Char-char-"

Charlie: "NOPE! Don't you DARE bring out that unholy book!"

Vaggie: "Sweetie, I've already seen the lovingly painted portraits of your emo phase. What's left to hide?"

Charlie: "Baby pictures."

Vaggie: "...is your mom holding a lioness by the scruff of the neck?"

Charlie: "DAD!"

Lucifer: "But I really like this one! It's so cuuute!!!"

Vaggie: "Babe. Is baby you hanging from the lion's mouth."

Charlie: "No!"

Vaggie: "With a hamster hanging from your mouth?"

Charlie: "ARGH!!"

Lucifer: "She named him Hamsandwich~"

Vaggie: "Aww. That's kinda worrying, considering the picture."

Charlie: "Hi mom it's me Charlie again~ Whenever you get this message I just want you to know- dad found the photo album, mom. The one you said you'd burned, mom, hOW DID HE FIND THE ALBUM AGAIN MOM YOU FUCKING PROMISED ME IT WAS-"

[iconsumethesoulsofthedamned]

I relate to Will Graham because I too am being gutted (period cramps) and I too am crying on the floor bleeding out.

[front-facing-pokemon]

[slavonicrhapsody]

Blasphemous Claw

“A slab of rock engraved with traces of the Rune of Death. Can deflect the power of the Black Blade.

On the night of the dire plot, Ranni rewarded Praetor Rykard with these traces. Should the coming trespass one day transpire, they would serve as a last-resort foil, allowing Rykard to challenge Maliketh the Black Blade, the black beast of Destined Death.”

[nelkcats]

Allies in unusual places

J'onn J'onzz didn't have much hope of receiving help after he was captured. He spent his nights locked up in those terrible laboratories, surrounded by selfish people who saw him as an experiment.

Still he did not give up, he continued to ask for help from the heroes he had heard about. Heroes who could save him and stop the future invasion. Many of those calls were futile, but there were times when he really felt that someone had heard him.

Perhaps it was because he was distracted that he didn't notice the fact that he wasn't the only "experiment" in the facility. It was only after he was moved that he noticed the teenager huddled in one of the containment units.

The boy looked exhausted, doing everything he could to make sure no one got to him, kicking and biting every time they tried to grab him; J'onn's heart broke. It was obvious that the boy wasn't human, he didn't look like a Martian either, but it was clear that he was a living being. A living being that was constantly being hurt by human greed.

The Martian was an adult, an adult who could endure pain, an adult who understood how horrible people could be, but that boy? He looked like a child, a child begging to be seen as a sentient being. J'onn hated it.

The days when he heard his sobs were the worst. That's why when the heroes came to "rescue" him, the first thing he did was set the boy free. Not caring about the looks he was getting, he wrapped the boy in a blanket and took him away (he was so scared, kicking and flailing, afraid he was going to get hurt again).

Even as they argued about the invasion, J'onn never left the boy's side. The same little boy who told them in a weak voice that he could help them, that he knew people who could help them.

Danny wanted to do something for the Martian who had helped him (and wasn't it amazing? there was a Martian in front of him! Someone who knew space!), and he thought that a couple of ghosts owed him some favors.

Unknown to the halfa, many of his former enemies were looking for him, desperate for the disappearance of the youngest of their own. The ghosts were furious, and perhaps an alien invasion could help them release their anger.

[call-me-strega]

Dc x Dp Prompt #14: The Valentines Day Debacle

“debacle • \dee-BAH-kul\ • noun.

1 : a tumultuous breakup of ice in a river 

2 : a violent disruption (as of an army) : rout

3 a : a great disaster b : a complete failure : fiasco.”

~ It was Valentine’s Day and Jason regrets agreeing to go on this date.

Weelll, kind of, but not exactly.

This “date” was actually a covert-op with three caped chaperones because he, Steph, Tim and Cass were all on cases that ended up being the same case.

Steph and Tim had caught wind of some allegedly magic potions becoming popular among college students used to help students score dates with their up coming Valentines. There weren’t any outright love potions but confidence boosters, things to increase your attractiveness, luck boosters, thing to get people in the mood. They had been investigating into it to make sure this wasn’t secretly a drug ring but found it to some real magical bullshit. They’d located the source’s lair/lab where they brewed the potions but not the potion brewer themselves.

Cass had been in Hong Kong when she caught wind of one of her targets following rumors of a witch who specialized in potions to grant small boons and bewitching charms. After dealing with her target she started tracking down the witch to find out her goals and intentions. She followed her trail across Asia, Europe and a good portion of the eastern seaboard before her path led her to Gotham.

Jason was investigating some upper middle class chick that started hanging around the alley trying to get in with the prostitutes and drag queens(and only succeeding in making them suspicious). She met several young men who abandoned the gang allegiances too trail after her like puppies. His investigation showed she was also circling Gotham elites and was in search of gossip on two things: people looking for love and a beau for herself.

They had been going over their cases at a team meeting when they realized their 3 targets were all the same woman. Between the four of them they pieced out she was some new age witch, descendent from an older family line looking to get rich and in a relationship. Her potions weren't really actively harmful but her use of them to gain the upper hand in business deals and amass a following of boytoys she decided weren’t hunky enough for her but would do as muscle was.

Tim and Steph knew she was planning on selling her potions at the Valentine’s/Winter market place in Robinson Park coming up. Jason and Cass knew she was looking to net some more followers while they were there so the plan was simple. One of the guys would go undercover to try and get recruited while the others stayed nearby for back up. They’d try to get some information out of her and if the need for it arose, to take her into custody and hand her off to the Justice League Dark. They’d already talked to Zatana to have her ready to come to Gotham should things go awry and gotten a charm from her to prevent them from getting put under her control.

Oh if only this didn’t go so wrong.

Unfortunately for Jason, he matched their little witch’s tastes to a tee. Thus, he was the one stuck being dragged around market under the guise of having agreed to a date with her. She dragged him around, made him pay for her things, tried to use his stature to intimidate others and was generally rude to the other patrons and staff. Oh, Jason despised her but grit his teeth and pretended to play nice. Cass was investigating her stall and Steph and Tim were tailing them.

Finally over the comms he heard the team confirm Cass had found the info she was looking for and he could finally ditch little miss witch. He broke it to her that he thought this wouldn’t work out and her eye just twitched. She must have tried to charm him because she asked him to stay with her and become her main beau, which he soundly refused. This set her off on a rage as she screeched over how her charm didn’t work and how Jason would have been perfect if she’d been able to get him under her thumb. He tried to back off when she lashed out with a magic rope insisting once she captured Jason he’d be the perfect leader to her adoring little boyfriend army.

So yeah she was more psycho than anticipated.

Spoiler and Red Robin began to swoop in for the rescue which only served to enraged her further. That’s when the team learned that she was talented in more than just potions. She used her magic to start awakening magical creatures in the park surrounding them. Nymphs shed from trees and little snow golems formed and began attacking RR and Spoiler.

Black Bat had run over to extract Jason when the witch noticed her. She shrieked in outraged proclaiming if she couldn’t have Jason no one else would and that he could become fish food for the frost creatures of Far Frozen before picking him up with a spectral vine and slamming him through the frozen lake into a swirling blue portal. Cass tried to go after him but the witch quickly engaged her with too much feral rage to realize she was outclassed in hand to hand against Black Bat. By the time Steph and Tim fought off the nymphs and golems it was too late. Whatever whirling portal had been in the lake closed and Jason was no where to be found.

As Jason pushed through the ice he had one final thought before he felt himself black out: ‘Worst Valentine’s Day ever.’

~ The first thing Jason felt when he came to was cold. He was still submerged under icy water. It was chilled him to the core but was almost soothing in a way. As if cooling of a burn. As is opened his eyes the world seemed to move in slow motion. He was still underwater surrounded by chunks of ice. He could make out sounds of distorted yelling as the world seem to get even slower.

Suddenly he felt something grab his collar and place itself under his arm. Jason was unceremoniously hoisted out of a frozen river and laid out on a river bank. He let out a harsh cough and his head got dizzy. He tried to regain his wits long enough to see who pulled him out.

It was large figure, maybe an inch or two taller than his 6 foot, with the bulk of a viking and the looks of one too. The man appeared to be around the same age as Jason, possibly older, and very concerned. He had messy white hair that was tied(or braided? Jason’s vision was still blurry) in the back. He was wearing armor made of some sort of hide leather and a dark gray metal (iron?) and covered in snow-white furs.

Jason stared at his savior trying to get his wits about him, willing his vision to clear. That’s Jason felt a warm fur cloak wrap around him as the man said something Jason wasn’t able to comprehend. He let out another harsh cough and felt himself being picked up in a princess carry. His rescuer moved incredibly fast for someone carrying a man of Jason’s stature. However, the motion did not help with the dizziness or the cold. Jason shivered, curling towards his “heroic knight” and pulling the cloak tighter around himself. This spurred the man to go faster.

Finally, everything stopped moving and Jason felt himself encompassed in warmth. Several more furs were wrapped around him and he was laid down to rest. At last Jason’s vision cleared enough to see the other man’s face properly. He had a rugged face and a strong jawline. He had a small scar near his eyebrow and round eyes with light eye bags beneath them. He had a straight nose and bow-shaped lips.

Jason felt the world slow down again and realized he’d soon pass out from the cold. The man lifted Jason’s head and slipped a pillow underneath. A rough hand gently pushed the wet hair out of his face and caressed his cheek. Jason stared into the man’s eye. They were kind, gentle, and such a vibrant green they seemed to glow. The man gave him a small smile and the last thing Jason heard before falling asleep was a soothing voice telling him “Rest, we will take care of you.” And with that Jason felt himself relax and fell asleep.

~ When Jason came to the first thing he saw was a 20-something-foot tall yeti with an icy cybernetic arm looming over the foot of his bed.

He promptly screamed and fell out of bed.

A vaguely familiar voice called out from another room.

“ FROSTBITE! I thought I told you not to scare him!”

In walked the man that had saved Jason from an icy death. Upon closer inspection now that he wasn’t dying the man seem 10 times as beautiful than Jason remembered. He almost seemed to have this ethereal glow to him. The man continued to admonish the yeti who just laughed heartily and continued on with whatever task he was trying to complete. The man turned his attention to Jason, smiling at him in apology and lifting him back into the bed.

“ I’m sorry about Frostbite. He won’t admit it but I think he gets a crack out of scaring his patients,” He said with a placating chuckle. His mirthful eyes met Jason’s puzzled ones and he continued on as he began to fiddle with few thermoses, seemingly searching for one in particular.

“ You must be quite confused. I don’t exactly know how you ended up here but this place called the Far Frozen. I felt a pulse of magic near the river and went to investigate and ended up fished you of the water. You were nearly frozen so I brought you back to village where you could get warmed up and medics like Frostbite could help you before the actual frostbite set in.”

He chuckled at his own joke before placing a cup in Jason’s hands.

“ It’s soup, drink up. It’ll help you get warm.”

Jason hesitantly took a sip of his soup. It was surprisingly good! He continued to sip his soup and Jason observed the man. He had a rather muscular build Jason noticed, staring at the man for no other reason than assessing if he’d be a potential threat (and for absolutely no other reason). Danny finished closing up his thermos and continued to speak.

“ I promise once Frostbite treats you for any illness or injury. I’ll help you get home. -Oh where are my manners” he held his hand out for Jason to shake. “You can call me Phantom.”

“ Call me Jay,” he replied, taking Phantom’s hand and a glance at his biceps. Phantom pulled away and stood up.

“Well, I’ll let you get back to resting. I’ll come back later when Frostbite gives you a check up and we can talk about how you got here and how to get you back” He turned and began to walk out before turning his head back one last time and waved. “I’ll see in a bit Jay.”

Jason watched him go and fell back into bed having finished his soup. As he pulled the furs and blankets back over himself he thought ‘Well maybe it’s not the worst Valentine’s Day ever.’

[sluckythewizard]

THEY could give me the surgurey i need (inspired alot by evojellys designs for em. GREAT STUFF)

[triglycercule]

if killer has differently sized eyes then does he blink like those lizards that have each eye blink abnormally. like the small eye has to be shut for a full second and then the big eye has to take a minute to blink. his blinks are delayed. they have their own timer. is this purposeful??? perhaps killer is doing it on purpose to freak people out and its just a really really really long running inside joke between himself and himself. or it could actually be srs and he can't blink synchronized. or he could use it to his advantage by like never having one eye closed ever. he'd never be held back by the disability that is blinking. AND it's a psychological trick on his enemy because they're weirded out like "why isnt this prick blinking normally"

does this make the top 20 dumbest triglycercule posts. i think this is a solid 12/20

[tantalizingdaydream]

tbh albus potter would be so mad to find out he has a whole play about him and its named AFTER HIS FATHER his whole life has been about getting out of his father’s shadow and yet this whole arc for him is still blaring his father’s name he would be so sad.