#crossovers are fun as hell!

[sapphira-mydnyte]

I'm brinin this back since we get TYBW part 3 in Kaiba's birthday month! Let's go!!

Royal Lights: Dragons of Rain & Storm

Top: Uryu Ishida from Bleach (Hueco Mundo arc)

Bottom: Seto Kaiba from Yugioh (DSOD movie)

Uryu's Birthday: November 6th

Seto's Birthday: October 25th

♡ Both of them are Scorpios.

♡ Both of them are at the top of their classes.

♡ Both of them are sharpshooters.

♡ Both of them have been shunned by their dads for their sheer talent in their passions.

♡ Both of them have someone they'd die for.

♡ Both of them are sassy as hell.

♡ Both are children of rich people.

♡ Both of them hate being insulted & will kick ass about it!

♡ Both of them hate losing in battle.

♡ Both are extremely powerful & take the reigns when the main character falls.

♡ Both have an icy attitude, but are sweethearts underneath.

♡ Both of them are highly intelligent & masters of stealth.

♡ Both of them are blunt, no sugar coating shit!

♡ Both of them have a grudge with the main due to sheer power-level in some form.

♡ Both have a strong 6th sense & protective instinct for those they love.

♡ Both of them know the weak points on the human body & can disarm foes with a single strike.

♡ Both have a thing for wearing blue & white outfits! 💙

♡ Both of them have beautiful, deep blue eyes!

♡ Both of them are usually pretty chilled out when left alone & are more level headed than most of the main cast.

♡ Both of them have lost loved ones at a very young age & so, they know the feeling of having their hearts broken...something they don't wish upon to innocent people.

♡ Both of them busted their asses to be good at all they do & put in the long hours of training for it under some the ugliest conditions.

♡ Both of them are in top form, but lean built...yet somehow hotter than the main characters.

One is a king, the other is a prince, but both have a silver tongue that make us want more of them.

[hitwiththetmnt]

Sweet Dreams P2

(P1)

@butterfilledpockets felt inspired to make the second half of this lil comic :}

I’m also going to warn you, there been some minor angsty ideas floating around in the noggin lately (;ﾟωﾟ)

[utterlyazriel]

whom the shadows sing for — (and the thief's echoing hymn)

a/n: if you have stuck around and waited u are INCREDIBLE thank u so much for ur patience <3 esp cos i'm still testing it with my slowburn lmao + tell me what u think lovelies and as always, enjoy

word count: 4.1k

synopsis: Azriel's shadows find a new way to torment their master. The question of forgiveness follows you. Cassian gets you in the ring, testing out newly learnt skills.

CHAPTER TEN :: SHADOWS

Azriel is a spy by his very nature.

It makes sense; the gift of Shadowsinger is never bestowed so lightly so that it could ever leave any doubt of the user. Shadowsingers are spies, even well before their gifts revealed themselves. Always watching. Always listening.

It was, then, a tad against his disposition to keep his nose out business that wasn't his — as that was precisely what Azriel did best.

But his decision was resolute. Azriel had promised himself he would not be the first to break the distance between you two.

However, for a fae over five-hundred years old, it's quite unsettling to yet again feel the pangs of impatience. Years of practicing restraint and then, in a mere few months, his hard earned patent for patience begins to fray at the ends. You'll be his undoing, he's sure of it.

Like a young and fresh-faced warrior itching for battle, it's almost embarrassing how Azriel can't seem to stay away from you. His feet wander and all paths lead to you.

His shadows are not helping.

Azriel thinks they've managed to get more insistent, which he hadn't really believe was possible. They've proven him oh-so wrong. When he walks the halls of the House of Wind, the dark wisps dart out, as though trying to tug him along.

He had trusted them all of two times before, face flushed and with an ungraceful but thankfully unnoticed exit, he learned just where they were leading him.

They were following the invisible thread between you, taking him to see his mate.

When it became clear he wasn't going to be coerced along, his shadows had only got more devious.

It's a particular brand of torture, Azriel thinks, to be delivered little parcels of knowledge of the person he's not allowing himself to see.

And they're ruthless about it. Whispers about how you're healing and the growing steadiness of your feet, the way you stand a little taller each day, about the tentative trust extended to Cassian.

Gods, that one had made his hand jerk across the paper in surprise, spilling a patch of ink onto the report he was in the middle of.

You were talking to Cassian— no, you were nearly friends with Cassian. The magnanimous hope had ballooned within him before Azriel remembered to stomp it back down.

Mor had teased him for the black stains on his hands during dinner.

He studies them now, nearly washed away completely, before he lifts his head. In the cool air of dusk, Azriel surveils the training ring from the shadows of the door, eyes scanning across the balcony.

It's empty, as expected. The rising moon is his only company.

You've stuck to training in the mornings, of course.

He's relieved and disappointed all at once—then Azriel forces that disappointment out of his system with a frustrated huff.

He is not allowed to be disappointed. Your trust is something he still needs to claw his way back to, to earn, and that required waiting and accepting that.

Azriel would see you... when you wanted to see him.

Despite his resolve, the thread between you still gives a futile tug before he can stop it. Scowling at himself, he rubs at his chest meanly, banishing the feeling. He steps down onto the balcony and heads towards the equipment.

As his scarred hands reach out and pluck one of the training staffs off the rack, his shadows twirls and trill, an almost teasing motion. It takes one pointed whisper, one tug on his heartstrings —they used that one just earlier today— before his hands are glowing warm from the second-hand touch.

His fingers spring apart and the staff hits the tiles with a loud clatter. Even though it's just him out on the balcony, he still casts an awkward glance around him. Gods

If his brothers could see him now, Azriel thinks dryly.

He swats at the shadow that had unhelpfully fed him the information. It dances away from him, swooping down to circle the staff on the ground with its others, a mass of black surrounding it.

Azriel bends down and gingerly picks up the staff, his hazel eyes staring at it for a long moment. Where your hands have been.

After a moment, his fingers curl around it. His marred hands feel like they're glowing again, warm and tingling, even if he knows it's all in his mind. Even so, he swears the golden thread between you hums, just ever so slightly.

He'll allow himself this, just this once, Azriel decides. His grip tightens and he heads to the ring, preparing to train, his hands where yours were just mere hours before.

—

The day after you had met Cassian, as the dawn breaks over sky, you find him on the training balcony before you.

You're a little later than you'd normally be, the sun actually rising before you do. You're moving a little more sluggishly too, but for once it's for a better reason.

Sleep, normally light and fitful for you, had actually been a reprieve last night. You slept deeply, falling into dreamless slumber and resting properly.

When morning crept in, dragging your eyelids up had felt like a mountainous amount of effort. Part of you wonders if it's because of the male across the balcony from you.

Allies, you had agreed upon.

It's a little easier to rest when you've made one less enemy.

Watching him now, stretching his supple and bulging arms, you have to force down the instilled anxiety that festers up, a force of habit that's kept you safe all these years.

You're not in Exordor anymore. You're not keeping any secrets.

Cassian clocks your hesitant stance in the doorway as he turns, a wide grin breaking across his face. His wings perk up, a genuine sign of his excitement. He stops his stretching momentarily to wave.

"Morning!" He calls out, despite the fact the distance between you doesn't require him to do so.

"Ally." He adds pointedly, leaning over to give an over the top wink.

Somewhere buried deep inside you, a laugh almost wants to wriggle free, but it's smothered before you can think too hard. You give him a wry smile instead, the best you can manage, and take a tentative step down onto the balcony. Your wings give a tiny shiver in the passing breeze.

"Good morning," You manage to return, the words sticking in your throat on the way up. It's awkward but nothing in Cassian's friendly demeanor changes to indicate he's noticed. Your feet lead you over towards the weapons rack.

It's as you reach them do you realise your heart is rabbiting wildly, pounding in your chest, stewing you in discomfort. The hair on the back of your neck rises, prickling with unease. Your back is turned to a fierce warrior, one that could very well attack you.

And worse, you'll be training next to him, still not healed, still stumbling on your feet—revealing all the ways to strike you down.

You—you haven't done this, ever. You haven't trained with someone completely as yourself, with no facade to hide beneath. It suddenly becomes incredibly vulnerable.

Your hand trembles as you reach out for the training staff and you try your best to swallow down your nerves.

Cassian has kept his distance, resuming his stretches, but you don't miss how his eyes dance over to you every couple of seconds. For a moment, it alarms you but as you find a place and settle into your stance, you steal another glimpse.

It's more like... a dog wagging its tail, you think faintly.

You press down the urge to smile and begin your exercises.

There's all of ten minutes of silence before it gets broken.

"How do you like Velaris?"

You pause in your motions, huffing to catch your breath as your grip the training staff loosens. You cast a glance over at Cassian who's now picked up one of the broadswords, beginning to throw its weight around easily.

You blink and for a moment, your eyes dart out over the edge of the balcony, to the city teeming with life, so close and yet so far from you. A part of you aches fiercely to see it.

"I... haven't been into the city." You answer honestly. It comes out curt and doesn't exactly answer his question.

Eyeing his sword nervously, your force your aching muscles through another series of exercises. You're a sliver better than the day before but when your ear twinges loudly, you still stumble, a minuscule motion. Your heart lurches up your throat, frustration welling like a tidal wave within you.

"Okay, then how do you like the House of Wind?"

You pause again, looking over to Cassian tentatively, the pain in your ear momentarily forgotten. The rising frustration in you dissipates at the distraction. He waves a casual hand over to the house you've been residing in since you arrived in Velaris and smiles once more.

You swallow thickly. What is his angle here?

"I haven't..." You struggle to put your thoughts into words. It's... different. New. Unsettling. You don't want to say the wrong thing. For all you know, this may well be his home.

Eventually, you find your voice. "I like my room. It's—" Several words ping to the front of your mind. "—big."

You cringe. Some compliment that is. You're too honest even if it is true; you're far too used to the familiar cramped space of your own cabin. Even sharing walls with others is foreign to you and you're incredibly thankful you haven't run into anyone unexpectedly in any corridors yet.

It doesn't occur to you that it might entirely be by design, thanks to Rhys' strict instruction.

Cassian grins. "Yes, I recall Illyria being hardly known for it's roomy cabins."

He swings the sword around with a flick of his wrist, more like an idle motion than anything. Your eyes still flicker down keenly, watching for any threat, just in case.

"So, you haven't explored the house much then?" Cassian continues, feigning a stab forward with the sword, his eyes on his motions but his attention still focused primarily on you.

You follow his lead and swing the training staff again, in an arching whoosh. You shake your head in answer to his question.

"Do you want to?"

"Do you always talk this much during training?"

The words come out before you can think to check them, sucking in a sharp breath as you realise how snappy that sounded. Like you're looking for a fight.

You ready yourself to sink into a defensive stance, before you realise that Cassian has only laughed in response. A curl of his tied back hair comes loose as he shakes his head, the action almost... fond.

"Only when I'm trying to make friends." He grins warmly, eyes flicking up to meet yours. "Sorry, I'll stop prying."

You swallow and nod slightly, hoping it won't be read as rude. Though you'd had a hard time believing it, Cassian had been true to his word; no fighting unless it was in the ring. You hadn't dared to go near it yet.

Readjusting your stance, you prepared to go through the motions once more. It's still a bit more of the juvenile exercises than you're used to—forced back to the basics as you retrain your body—but also because you're solitary training. You're used to sparring with others.

Stealing a glimpse at Cassian, you ponder if—if you might, eventually that is, train alongside him as you had done with Azriel.

Moving the training staff deftly, you thrust it forward and twist your lithe body to dart forward again, a small patter of your feet on the stone.

It's maneuver used for rushing opponents, throwing them off their balance and driving them backwards. It works for you, mostly, but the way your wings cut through the air, the slightest whistle through the holey scars, makes you a little unsteady.

"You fight like you're bigger than you are."

Straightening up, you breathe heavily and peer around the edges of your wings back at Cassian—who apparently isn't done talking at all.

He nods to you, in reference the maneuver you've just performed. "That is a move usually far better suited for someone of a larger stature."

You clear your throat, wings curling in a bit closer around you. "Yes. Azriel, he- he was trying to rectify that. There's only one way to train Illyrians, as I'm sure you know."

Cassian nods again, lowering the sword to hang at his side. "That I do. However, I feel Azriel may have been taking the wrong approach given... the information he was not privy to at the time."

Your brows knit together, something wrong twisting tightly in your chest.

"Because I'm..."

Female.

"Not a male?"

The words come out sharp without meaning to.

Cassian's picks up on your defensiveness, his expression softening. He gives a little so-so motion with his free hand, his wings rustling behind him. "A bit, but not for reasons you may think."

When you don't speak, he continues, his explanation unfurling.

"Your centre of gravity is different to ours. That actually changes the best way for you to fight. More of your strength comes from these—"

He slaps his hands down onto his thighs with a grin.

"—than from your arms. For that reason, there are moves you will be better at than what you've been taught."

Cassian cocks his head, his dark eyes squinting for a moment, deep in thought. "Azriel likely switched your training to agility based, didn't he?"

You nod gingerly. You had no idea if what he was said was true. If there was a fighting style suited to females. That would require... female warriors which, for all you've ever known, is a highly unlikely thing to exist.

Though, being he is the General of the Night Court's armies, you'd likely assume Cassian knows what he's talking about.

He nods, that same easy smile. "He was right to do so. Most camps focus on brute strength and stamina. Makes for good warriors that can take hits and keep going. You can train that way if you still wish but you might find you excel when your efforts are put elsewhere."

It takes a long moment before you realise exactly what his words mean.

An offer. He's offering to train you, to teach you.

Pleasant surprise blooms inside you, warm, curling up behind your ribs like a purring cat. Cassian's eyes are light and friendly, his body language relaxed as though if you turn him down, it'd be of no consequence to him. Merely an offer.

You turn it over in your mind, back and forth. The gentle wind from the mountains caresses across your cheekbones, a warm touch.

Inside, deep in your chest, there's something telling you to trust. To take the step forward, to accept Cassian's outstretched proposal. That you might regret it if you didn't.

"How?" Your eyes skirt up and down on instinct, still on alert for a threat that isn't coming.

Cassian grins infectiously, not even attempting to hide his glee. He rolls his shoulders back and assesses you once more.

"Have you ever heard of the headscissor takedown?"

—

Flesh hits stone, a large shuddering bang that echoes out the courtyard. In the distance, a couple birds take flight, squawking loudly. Pain ricochets through your knees, a warbling and jarring pain that has you gritting your teeth.

"You're..." Cassian's breath comes out raggedly. "Incredible!"

He beams from where he's pinned beneath you and your pain dashes away in a moment, something gleaning and prideful taking its place.

There's a rivulet of blood under his nose, his hair knocked loose, and you know hitting the ground as hard as he did won't have been nice. He continues on as if he hasn't.

"That was perfect form. You're a Cauldron-born natural!"

You huff a breath that might be an actual laugh this time and quickly retract yourself, standing to your feet. You waver momentarily, hesitance poisoning your thoughts, before you decide. Holding out your hand to help, Cassian is quick to put his hand in your own and use it to lug himself up.

When he gets to his feet, his grip loosens but he doesn't let go altogether.

"Hey," He says, more serious this time. His fingers around your wrist, soft and warm, still make your pulse jump nervously. You force yourself to meet his gaze, still friendlier than ever. "Seriously. You're very skilled and you're a fast learner. You've got the makings to be lethal. The Night Court is lucky to have you on our side."

His hand slips back, grazing your wrist, and you wonder if he can feel the way your heart skips a beat.

No one has ever been... lucky to have you. It's so foreign that hearing someone say it aloud makes you forget to breath for one long second.

"I—" The word pushes out before you think about it. "That's... You-"

Praise is not a part of Illyrian training. You fumble with it, feeling entirely out of your depth, feeling oddly proud of yourself. It feels like your cheeks are warmer than usual.

Cassian chuckles, wiping the blood from his nose with the back of his hand. "You're welcome." He says pointedly, making you realise you're supposed to say thank you after someone compliments you.

You flounder for another second, making Cassian laugh again, louder this time. He reaches forward and lightly taps you on the shoulder, a faux punch.

"You'll get used to it." He says. Part of you really, really wants to. "Now, c'mon. Let's go again. Hit me."

—

You think that now Cassian's got what he wanted—the two of you training together, learning the plethora of new moves, stances, blocks he has in his repertoire—he wouldn't have anymore questions.

You're sorely, sorely, wrong.

Two mornings later, the pair of you prepare for some sparring with the swords in the ring. Cassian's purposefully picked one of the heavier ones for himself, broad and long, but he'd put aside a blade for you.

It's smaller, lighter. It reminds you of Heartstriker.

Which reminds you of Azriel.

The mere thought of him has your heart humming, miserable and elated all at once. You're still not sure if you'd like to see him just yet, the confusing twist of betrayal too fresh, but still, some part of you seeks him out, consciously or not.

You want to wander the halls until you find the door to leads to him.

It's because he was your first friend. You reason, as you step up towards the sparring ring. He was the first person you trusted. Was? Is—maybe.

Do you still trust him?

Cassian is already in the ring, waiting as patiently as he can. His rustling wings give him away, even as casual as he looks leaned up against one of the corner posts.

His wings are stretched out, towards the sun's rays that are just beginning to slip over the horizon, trying to steal some of their warmth.

A yawn slips past your lips. The night of restful sleep was an outlier it seemed, the tendrils of a calming, easy sleep stolen away just as quickly.

Fingers curling around the hilt of the short sword, you step gingerly into the ring, eyes casting across to your opponent. You roll your shoulders back, warming up the muscles a bit more, and give your own wings a little shake. A shiver wracks through you in response, the chill of the morning touching on sensitive scars.

"Is there a particular reason Azriel is avoiding you?"

Your head snaps up at the sound of Cassian's voice, cool and calm.

He hasn't shifted, though his wings are tucked back in now. His sword is still relaxed at his side, his worn hand tucked around the hilt of it freely.

The usual chattiness that Cassian has been able to coax out of you these last few days shrivels up. Azriel is avoiding you? You hadn't wanted to see him but this—something curls up inside you, sour and foul. You swallow hard.

"I hadn't realised." You murmur, unable to keep the bitterness from seeping into your words.

Cassian blinks and seems to realise his mistake. He waves a hand dismissively, as if it can scratch away his last words. "I misspoke. I believe he is... keeping his distance."

He furrows his brow, face pinched, picking his words carefully. "For your sake." He adds.

You... don't know how you feel about that. On one hand, you're relieved. It's not by pure chance that you haven't seen him yet, it's purposeful—he's keeping out of your way, giving you peace.

On the other hand, something twined in your chest pangs sorrowfully, mourning the distance between you.

While Cassian's presence as an ally (or perhaps, you'll even admit, a friend) is comforting, you'll admit it does not fill the same shape in you as Azriel does. You miss him, quite terribly so.

"What makes you think he's avoiding me?" You ask.

Cassian gives an little shrug, his head tilting to the side just a bit. He smiles in a way that tells you he knows more than he lets on. Or maybe, he simply knows Azriel far better than you do.

"He usually trains in the morning." He explains nonchalantly. "He's taken to training at night since your arrival."

You frown at the new information. You don't want Azriel to be changing things for you, to bend and warp his routines in his home, just for you. You don't want him to avoid you either, even if you're beginning to think you might never be brave enough to face him.

He left you. He was your first friend and the betrayal of that is entirely too new— but you don't know where to draw the line.

You don't know for how long you're allowed to be upset — or how long you can let this go on before you're punishing yourself just as much as you are him.

Flexing your grip on the sword, you stare across at Cassian and when you open your mouth, the words tumble out with warning.

"He..." Your breath hitches.

Something awful hooks into your chest, remembering the way he had folded himself into shadows, away from you. The look on his face.

"He left me. When I needed him more than ever." You admit.

Your voice doesn't waver but Cassian can still see the slight tremble in your shoulders, rolling in. Your eyes have dropped to study the floor of the sparring ring, seemingly lost in the memory.

Cassian's face softens, his heart aching for you. You don't even notice how your own wings have begun to curl in, a soft, comforting blanket around yourself.

It's clear you're struggling to juggle the myriad of emotions that haunt you and he gets it, Mother, does he get it. It had been hard the first time, during those first tentative months of friendship with Rhys, before Azriel was even in the picture. Cassian had one emotion that served him any purpose and that was spite.

Spite kept him alive. Spite told him who to knock down and who to put down.

Friendships and spite are not the greatest combination. When Rhys had done something Cassian had vehemently disagreed with, it had felt like a deception, stinging as badly as the backhand from Lord Devlon, sneering the word bastard.

It took time to undo the messy tangle of emotions, to learn that not all betrayal fell into the same box. That forgiveness for some people was not weakness at all.

So, Cassian asks. "Did he come back?"

You glance up at him, eyes flickering with emotion at the question. After a moment, you swallow and say. "Yes. He did."

Cassian nods. He stretches his wings out a bit and reaches up to push a stray piece of hair behind his ear.

"Alright. How long do you intend to punish him for that mistake?"

You freeze at that question and Cassian can tell he's hit the right spot. You're unsure how long you should—because all you know is that you're hurt. And when you're hurt, you don't know any other way to deal with it.

There's only one pathway ingrained for when someone hurts you. Cassian realises suddenly, Mother help him, that he must try to be good at the talking side of things. He needs to show you there's other ways you can go.

"Because," He continues, not waiting for your answer. "I can assure you that Azriel will punish himself for far longer and far harsher than you ever will. I've known my brother a long time. If there anyone who understands the gravity of his actions and will torture himself over them, it's Azriel."

A hesitant expression shutters across your face, your brows furrowing slightly. Cassian doesn't need Rhys' daemati gift to understand the conflict that's battling within you.

"You think I should forgive him."

You don't pose it as a question. A little bit more of that iciness has bled back into your voice, on guard again.

Cassian can tell that, like him, you don't take well to being told what to do. That's fine; Cassian has no intention of doing that whatsoever.

"I think that is your decision entirely." Cassian says, letting the words breathe so they truly sink in. He watches as your eyes narrow momentarily and then your shoulders relax, sinking down an inch.

"But," He says gingerly. "If you avoid each other, you might never move past this. Might never move forward. It might be worth considering what you really want at the end of the day."

The sun has properly broken across the mountain ridges, no longer just sparse rays. You turn your face, facing towards the warmth. There's still that scrunch between your eyebrows, betraying your deep thought, but Cassian has said enough for now.

He moves his sword and taps the end of it against the stone, a soft steel ping grabbing your attention. You whip your head back to face him and Cassian grins, raising his sword.

"Enough talking. More fighting."

You smile, a little hesitant but entirely genuine, and raise your sword in response. That's one thing you're sure you know how to do right.

tags below!

@strangerstilinski @janebirkln @itsswritten @mischiefmanagers @hnyclover

@waytoomanyteenagefeels @idkitsem @illyrianbitch @jeweline16 @fightmedraco

@iamjimintrash @maendering @spideytingley @aneekapaneeka @cassianswh0reeee

@viciane @astarlitsoul @mybestfriendmademe @archiveofcravings @reputaytionn-13

@bionic-donut @chessebookgirl @itseightbeats @littleblackcatinwonderland @twsssmlmaa

@fanworrior @skysayhi @vintageoldfashion @tequilya @fabulouslyflamboyant5

@rhysandorian @laughterafter @brieftriumphnightmare @hirah-yummar @some-person-somewhere

@scooobies @sfhsgrad-blog @cherry-cin @bookloverandalsocats @megscabinetofcurios

@doodlebugsblog @landofpetrichor @acourtofdreamsandshadows @florabelll @tanyaherondale

@aomi-recs @letmejustreadthanks @problemfinder @sevikas-whore @doodlebugg16-blog

@meandmysillywriting @justingnoreme @krowiathemythologynerd @hanatsuki-hime @sunny747

@coffeebeforewater @kalulakunundrum @marina468 @moonbirde @yellow-birdy @sheblogs

@shinyghosteclipse @randombibitch @itsjustwinter @emryb @books-all-the-way13

@thatsassyhufflepuff @nerdyalmondlawyerauthor @lilah-asteria @rcarbo1 @bobbyisbored

@historygeekqueen @roseodelle @assriels @rem-ie @storiumemporium

@lovingkelj @itsswritten @breadsticks2004 @marina468 @sapphena

[kidokear]

My current Ultrakill brainrot + my excitement over ep 7 of Murder drones = 👆

[greenglowinspooks]

Alrighty fellas time for another one

(DPxDC) Batman Rogues ranked based on how good at parenting Danny (and co.) they would be

—

Would probably actually be able to step up and be (relatively) good parents: The Penguin, Mr. Freeze.

They would have EXTREMELY different dynamics with Danny, but I think they could figure it out.

The Penguin would definitely only take in Danny to improve his reputation, and probably so that he could monopolize the use of a new meta’s abilities. (And perhaps to study him)

However, I think that attitude would last for at the absolute most a month, probably closer to two weeks, before he genuinely bonded with him. He’s like the dad who says he doesn’t want a pet, and then in a week they’re inseparable.

He’s not a good person, but I think he could probably end up being an awesome fucking dad. Also, there’s no way in hell anyone would mess with Danny. Not even close. If he found out Danny was getting bullied he’d ruin the bully’s fucking life.

He wouldn’t directly throw hands with a child, sure, but that’s only because it would look bad. He would, however, completely destroy their family’s careers and force them to leave Gotham out of shame.

Mr. Freeze is only a rogue because of his wife. Like, that’s it. He only wants (or wanted, depending on the version) for his wife to be cured and to live happily with her again. All of this is for her, either to help her or to avenge her.

That’s to say that yeah, if Danny managed to weasel his way into his heart, he would have a place with him forever.

He’d probably only interact with him at first because of the ice powers, but if Danny did manage to get closer to him (that’s a pretty big if) I think he’d do fucking anything for him, just like his wife.

He would raze the GiW to the ground for his boy.

They’d do alright probably. Nothing special, but it’d work out ok: Scarecrow, Ivy & Harley, Two-Face, Killer Croc.

Scarecrow is, funnily enough, not that bad. Like, is he genuinely deranged? Yes. Is he murderous and cruel? Yes. Does he have a moral compass that would absolutely support taking care of a child? Yes.

He’s been shown multiple times to genuinely care for people, even if it’s in his own way. Like, yeah, maybe fear-gas-themed murder and torture is a bit far sometimes, but it’s what he knows how to do.

Like, would he know how to take care of a kid? Hell no. But he does have a pretty good list of what not to do, courtesy of his own childhood, so he’d have a pretty alright start.

Ivy and Harley aren’t rated higher because I just don’t think they’d really be responsible enough for a child. I don’t doubt that they’d be able to love Danny, nor that they love each other, but they’re not very stable, and they don’t have a very good grasp on normalcy.

Like, they’d be incredibly cool aunts, or family friends, or something. I just don’t think that they’d do well being the sole guardians of a child or teenager.

I can’t stress this enough, I think they would genuinely love having Danny with all their hearts. I just don’t think that love alone is enough.

Avoiding that genuinely depressing thought, I think Two-Face would similarly be an awesome uncle to have, but wouldn’t do well at the actual “parenting” thing.

Like, he could keep a kid alive no problem, and he’d probably be awesome to have as a legal guardian and stuff, but there’s no way in hell he’d be able to keep Danny in line, for the sole reason of not really seeing a reason to.

However, if he got put in Arkham, he’d 100% not be above guilt-tripping Bruce into taking Danny in, so he does have backup options.

Killer Croc would be an awesome friend to Danny, but that man is in no way capable of being a parent.

He’s got a pretty short temper, and Danny is a little shit. There’d definitely be fighting. A lot of fighting. Croc still gets some points though because he’s a decent guy and I don’t doubt that he’d be willing to get help from the other rogues or even Batman should he need it.

Shouldn’t be trusted to keep a gerbil alive, yet are somehow still better at this than Maddie and Jack: The Riddler, Solomon Grundy

The Riddler is a childish, egotistical asshole with a bit of a god complex and a truckload of emotional baggage.

That being said, he’d still do better than Danny’s actual parents.

Partly because the bar is so low.

Like yeah, there’d be a lot of arguing, but I don’t think that he’d actually ever fight fight with Danny, mostly because he’d feel like he was turning into his father.

For the most part he’d be at the same level as Scarecrow or Killer Croc, I just put him lower because I think he’d forget to feed Danny sometimes. Still not as bad as the food coming alive to attack him though.

Solomon Grundy is pretty similar to Killer Croc in terms of how I think he and Danny would get along, I just think he’d be much worse at getting the things Danny needs to live and be happy.

He’d be cool as a weird uncle, or a friend, but he’d be pretty awful at being an actual parent.

The house is on fire, god is dead: Mad Hatter, Ra’s Al Ghul

Mad Hatter would have UNIMAGINABLE levels of beef with Danny. He would unironically throw hands with a child.

That being said, I think he’d genuinely like Danny.

Wouldn’t make up for anything, but I do think he’d at least not hate him.

Ra’s would be funny as hell no matter what.

He’d ALSO have unimaginable beef with Danny, but for entirely different reasons. He would spend all his time trying to convince Danny to become a member of the LOA and also to turn him fully immortal. Danny would buy him a “world’s okayest dad” mug and “I’m not the dad who stepped up” shirt. They would try to beat each other to death over Damian.

Danny would still probably choose him over Vlad in a heartbeat.

Getting dissected would have unironically been a better option: Joker

Your homework today is to watch Batman Beyond: Return of the Joker.

Because I know you won’t, I’m just gonna tell you that Joker has done some MK Ultra shit to a child before in order to mold it into a mini version of himself, and he’d absolutely do it again.

One of them would absolutely end up dead, and considering their track records, I’m not so sure it would be Joker.

[emma-is-swaggy-and-epic]

So a while back i was listening to various remixes of spamton's theme songs and i thought "ok but like.....what if spamton was yuriko???" So i made a fusion (complete with neo form!!!)

She looks so much like her mother here....*sigh*

[kingbob2-0]

Back to assassins creed inspired fakemon, these where inspired by Desmond miles! Immolamb, (immolation and lamb) who is meant to look like a will o whisp,

Bansheep (banshee, sheep) who is inspired by the deer in spookys haunted mansion/ house of jumpscares and has 2 forms - wooled and sheared- that change stats and power up fire type or ghost type moves respectively,

and the third evo, who still doesn’t have a official name, but I’m thinking Fenwool (Fenrir, Wool, also fen is another word for a swamp or bog, where will o’ whisps were commonly found) and is inspired by the saying “wolf in sheeps clothing”

all 3 are fire/ghost types

also big thanks to @teecupangel for helping me flesh out this guy a little more,( he’s actually the first fakemon I’ve made) there’s more art in the ask I sent. I’ll try to link it later, maybe.

[minnesota-fats]

Jason wakes up in some sort of windowless room with a frightened looking teenager, only to realize said teenager is Tim’s Boyfriend he had actually yet to meet.

Jack and Vlad have a more difficult talk.

-

Jazz, Sam, Tucker, and Valerie see the bat cave.

-

Damian and Ellie form a plan.

[questions-about-blorbos]

This question was sent to our inbox and we made a separate poll in response to it. If you want to put your Blorbo in a situation of your choice and see if people think they’ll survive, send your Blorbo and the situation in which you want to see them to our inbox and we’ll post a poll for you! (For more information, check our pinned post.)

[bonchobrick]

Hi hi vee here!! The jason is a dumbass who forgets to tell his family he’s a fright knight is out now on ao3!! (from this original post)

Thanks everyone for the support <3 — the new chapter 2 has been released!! You can check it out there :D

Chapter two is follows Jason and Danny the night after the ‘terrifying’ ghost attack in which Jason realizes—ah, he might’ve fucked up a bit.

—

Tags (i love yall sm mwah) so so sorry if i messed up and you didn't want to be tagged im new to tumblr and dont really get this but its fun :P

@canthejustboremetodeath @anonymousf28 @asphyxia778 @justwannabecat @apointlessbox @choppedphantomsweets @666deaddash999 @undead-essence @readingalldaysleepingallnight @space-dreams-world @nixthenerd @thegatorsgoose @thatonegaybitch68 @idfk-man10 @some-rotten-nest @kisatamao @enderglace @halfalix @rainbowsofa @stargirl1331 @silverheartlugia2000 @friends-fam-fiends-hellothere @malice-of-the-sunrise @boo-ghosties

[undefeatablesin]

Brings me immense joy to see the Classicvania renaissance happening lately. So much fresh love for the old games, their stories and characters pouring in and despite having moved on to the Souls fandoms myself, I just want to say how glad I am that more people are seeing the beauty of the classic CV games at last ✨️

[polter-heist]

Dp x Dc prompt 6

Danny, Mary, and Billy were triplets. After the death of their parents and Mary's kidnapping, Danny was put up for adoption meanwhile Billy was sent to live with Ebenezer. Danny was adopted by the Fenton family.

Now years later, a reunited Mary and Billy set out to find their lost triplet.

[dissentersrising]

hmm. retainers.

actually, let's first talk about the leylines of sornieth. the network of magic running beneath reality that all magic flows through. the world's natural mechanism for cycling magic.

all magic flows from the leylines, returns to the leylines, and is broken down by the shade within so the cycle can start anew.

(as you might have noticed, the leylines and the shade both are the source of many superstitions and misunderstandings, but this isn't about them.)

near-to-all creatures on sornieth are magical in some way, which means that their magic, too, will return to the leylines upon death.

all that is to say that the leylines are the afterlife. purgatory. whatever. which means that every now and then someone will realize this and try to break out. because that is something people will want to do, because a good few people do not want to be dead and/or do not want to simply fade into oblivion. and because that is something you can do, since magic can, in fact, flow out of the leylines.

(which means that you can, in fact, revive someone if you drag them back out but WE'RE TALKING ABOUT RETAINERS HERE.)

retainers aren't actually dragons. they are just kind of... spawned in by purgatory to keep people from breaking out of the afterlife. luckily, they're usually passive. won't bother you if you're just chilling (or, more likely, dying a second time) in purgatory.

they'll beeline for anyone causing trouble though. this includes people trying to break out, people trying to break in, or people who have already broken in and are running around in the leylines while still being very much alive. they will not pursue people out of purgatory, but they will remember and they will come for your ass once you die again.

physically, they're pretty damn big. about the size of a particularly large imperial. they don't have any limbs by default, but they can grow any number of them so one can absolutely have, i don't know, twenty arms if it needs that many. their wings and haloes (for the ones who do have haloes, at least) are not quite solid, but you'll encounter some resistance if you try to touch them.

they can technically be killed if you fight them hard enough, but so long as they retain a connection to purgatory they simply will not stay dead. "killing" one is a pretty tall order in the first place. they're stupidly big, they can channel lightning (not actually lightning- just raw magic. remember, purgatory is inside the leylines) they're able to teleport, and they can straight-up change the geography of purgatory at will. if you want to get out of purgatory, you're better off trying to avoid these things instead.

they seemingly answer to the employers, despite the employers... not actually having created purgatory. still, some of the employers have taken it upon themselves to watch over purgatory and have managed to intertwine their own magic with that of the leylines. as a result, they have some degree of control over both purgatory and its retainers.

anyways out of universe um. hi it's me i'm being insane about madness combat and making fandragons of the most random things. gabriel ultrakill is here because it makes the most sense. he's a retainer now because it's my lore and i get to pick the writing also i use "the leylines" and "purgatory" pretty interchangeably above because they are interchangeable. two names for the same thing. btw sorry i keep drawing things that are not actual flight rising dragons who are actual flight rising breeds. it Will happen again

[aquaticaeronaut]

A little scribble of 2D Gorillaz as a silly troll, if you care.

[southern--downpour]

i am once again mashing my hyperfixations together like a child playing with dolls

[bamboorocket]

So uh... remember that Lancer crossover I was working on for Spookami? And how I put this tag on the original post?

Well that's actually happening for real now, because our GM is not only running a oneshot separate from our main campaign this weekend, but also very encouraging of letting us pull expy nonsense. Joke's on him if he think I'm not committing to the bit, though, so have the portrait I drew for the "Pilot" section of my character sheet.

Most refer to Waka in this AU by his callsign "Onmyōji". Those that don't usually just call him a pain in the ass.