#guys they are so dear to me

[my-castles-crumbling]

pride - @jegulus-microfic - word count: 401

Regulus fiddled with the small flag tucked in his pocket, allowing the pink, white, and blue of the fabric to peek out only the tiniest bit. He couldn't stop his hands from shaking as he stared in the mirror.

The makeup Sirius had done for him was perfect. Blue, white, and pink splashed across his cheeks, dark eyeliner that brought out his eyes. His black jeans and crop top weren't so off from something he would wear on a normal day, and he reasoned that he could always wash off the makeup if he was uncomfortable...

But it was terrifying. After so long hiding who he was and then suffering the wrath of his parents when he finally admitted his feelings, being so open about his identity was a very vulnerable feeling. It was one thing to tell his friends, but it was another to walk around in a crowd and wave a flag admitting it.

He felt a hand on his hip and turned to find James behind him, glitter on his face, a pink, yellow, and blue flag around his neck like a cape, and the words "I <3 my boyfriend" on his shirt. Despite everything, Regulus had to grin at James's obvious excitement.

"Ready, love?" James asked, and Regulus nodded nervously, checking his appearance one more time.

-

An hour later, they joined the crowd of the city, but this time, Regulus noticed something different. The crowd was no longer full of irritated workers and people passing out fliers. Instead, hundreds of people with rainbow makeup and colorful flags walked, laughing and grinning in the sun. With a pang in his chest, Regulus saw people like him, people with scars on their chests and blue-white-and-pink flags. People who walked almost naked across the street, showing off their bodies that looked so shockingly familiar, because they looked like his.

"What do you think?" James whispered in his ear, having seen Regulus taking it all in.

But Regulus had no words. After a lifetime of fighting against the feeling that he was somehow horribly different, this was the first time he felt normal. Part of a group.

And when James leaned down to kiss him, he didn't feel nervous to kiss his own boyfriend in public. Instead, he moved closer, grabbing James's arm and melting into him a bit.

"Happy Pride, love," James grinned, pulling him into the crowd.

[doomedclockworkdotmp3]

his therapist woulda had a field day at their next appointment

[axoqiii]

shujin trio,,my babies..,.,

[suntails]

toot toot!

[officialmiintee]

wind breaker time! Bofurin first years !!

[tinartss]

otayuri fanart in the year 2025 because the first yoi rewatch after nearly 9 years goes crazy hard

[cloudyydraws]

more mario and luigi doodles but i took their mouths away

+ extra unfinished stuff under the cut

[lotus-pear]

bsd rewatch w my friend means obligatory art of my fav found family ever

[mattastr0phic]

I am oh so late to the party but a lot went on today. Happy Halloween! :.) and tysm to @panicingblanket for the idea n sketch!

[ciearcab]

annual philza for the masses

[wasyago]

how is this guy the sneaky one when he literally looks like this

[causticflower]

strechies :D

for DDVAU November Day 1 & 2: CG/Grian & HG/Scar!

since the option is both person and persona... I did both lol

prompt list can be found here <3

[wandixx]

"There is only so much you can for the dead" part 2

continuation to this, I should probably make an original title at some point

trigger warnings: graphic describtion of Danny's death

Moments of blissed, deadly stillness felt unfairly short. It was less than blink of an eye, less than a drop of darkness after he asked Team for the last time to leave and before he woke up, in exactly same state that he was when portal spat him out. He could barely perceive his limbs, and what he could, was consumed by agonising pain.

Fuck, he hated Death Days. Absolutely horrible experience.

His nerves were on fire, electricity dancing and burning across them. His veins and lungs and nostrils and ears and stomach and eyes and mouth and every little crevice of his body was filled with ectoplasm, like liquid fire and evaporated ice, drowning him at every attempted breath. He was crushed by an unimaginable weight, at the same time as his body exploded. He was just coherent enough to feel his bones breaking, cells bursting, his very molecules being rearranged and destroyed and rebuilt but not coherent enough to tell if his scream was anything louder than a whimper.

He was in the middle of the crowd that screamed louder than he could handle, as if every person who ever got to Ghost Zone used this exact moment to let out all of their anguish, hands dragging and pulling and squeezing and brushing at every inch of his skin. He was alone like no one was ever before, in silence that was deafening. He could be stomped to death any second without anyone turning his head, and so separate from everything that he could be only existing being.

He couldn’t help but wait for Death, merciless and brutal, whose twisted children invaded his bed time stories since he could understood words, whose corrupted children he was taught to hate. She was hideous and horrifying, but against everything, she was familiar and he wanted, needed, to see one intimate face in the situation that was so wrong, wrong, wrong. He waited for her to rip his last breath away so everything would stop.

If he had a scrap of himself that could feel worse, it’d cry when he felt her getting away from him, slipping between the fingers that were both tense and limp, impossible to control but possible to feel, broken and twitching. She was getting away but pain wasn’t lessening, maybe even getting worse, to the point where it was only thing that filled his brain.

And then it all stopped. No pain, not even any left over typical to how injuries worked, just a moment of weird pressure against his palm (just like the button), that soon stopped too.

He was in his human form, but in the hazmat he wore just before the accident. Something was wrong about it all. Something in his body made it feel like not his. Something in his chest was too light and too quiet and some intrusive thought made him want to claw on his rib cage until he ripped it open and realized what was missing.

Breathing seemed to easy, enough that he got lightheaded. It got a lot harder when he realized.

He couldn’t feel his core.

Before he managed to come to terms with that, there was a gentle pressure on his hand again.

And the pain returned.

*-*-*

Danny didn't wake up abruptly, with a choked scream and phantom burns. He also didn't wake up slowly, not in the nice, relaxed way at least, when the line between dream and reality is blurred beyond recognition. He woke up in pain, feeling like he wasn't even sleeping before, just… somewhere else while his body was destroying itself again for what felt like decades.

It took some effort to connect with his body after he woke up. To be able to move even a finger. Even longer, to open his eyes. Actual ages to sit up without urge to scream.

After seeing the absolute wreckage of the room, he kinda wished it took him longer. It looked like a warzone. Electrical burns on the walls and ceiling, random puddles of bubbling ectoplasm eating away anything they touched like an acid, and what little stuff there was before, was almost all broken beyond recognition, either by whatever force was doing its thing during his death day show or ecto. When he looked at it a bit more, it seemed to go in spiral around him.

It was kinda sad that the cookies went to waste like that. He was curious who brought them in though.

Thank fucking Ancients that Team listened to him and nobody was there when the whole mess was going down. They would probably join him on the other side of the veil otherwise.

He saw it all only because of his ghost enhanced in dark vision (thank Ancients he stayed in the ghost form) because apparently his Death Day shorted out both main electrical circuit and the emergency one. Thankfully, according to his ears, it only reached this and rooms next to him, instead of the whole Mountain.

Fuck. He really hoped Robin gave him some sort of back-up back-up room because otherwise he was dead. Or well, dead-er.

He rolled out of the bed, barely catching himself from smacking on the floor like a sack of potatoes. Though some would argue he didn’t catch himself if only his face didn’t fall to the floor like the sack of potatoes.

Only then he caught sight of big, ecto-green circle that embed itself into the wall right over the bed. It had familiar vibes. Really familiar…

He had to tell the Team about it yesterday.

*-*-*

M'gann was sitting on the needles, just like everyone else. Sure, Phantom asked them to forget about him and essentially ignore whatever was happening to him, but there was no way they'd actually be able to do it. Case in point, first time alarms about shorting out of the electrical circuit in the room. They run there so fast that they had door open to see what was wrong before the absolute onslaught of electricity and ectoplasm and something else turned off the alarms thirty seconds later. Truth be told, they couldn’t do much, not without risking becoming second ghostly member of the Team, they’ve been there and ready. Conner tried to come in anyway, with his invulnerability and such, but they had to drag him out when despite extensive dodging he got hit five times by the time he got two steps into the room. Also, there wasn’t really anything he could do to help.

So they just spent last almost twenty hours alternating between different things to keep themselves occupied enough to not fall asleep and distract themselves from quilt but not enough to not be able to drop it at the moments notice if it was needed. First plan was to nap in shifts if it was necessary but it quickly became apparent that sleep was impossible with how worried everyone was and when M'gann proposed to just shut down their brains with her powers, everyone got really defensive. Well, no was no. So they just sat, at the moment in awkward silence because every topic that wasn't Phantom felt too inane and every topic that was Phantom felt too… just no. No name for why, just no.

M'gann was about to get up to make another batch of peanut butter and oatmeal snacks that took few minutes to make and could be dropped at any second, when Conner practically jumped in his seat, tilting his head to hear better. Robin perked up from whatever he was doing on his wrist computer at the same time.

"Phantom left the room!” they exclaimed at the same time, jumping out of their seats.

This head start didn’t matter by the time everyone ran or flew out to the corridor, racing against clock to the room where they left Phantom. It didn’t seems so before, but now M’gann just cursed their past selves for not waiting somewhere closer. There wasn’t really any place where they could stay instead, unless they set camp right outside his door, but it still. They should be there five minutes ago, like Wally, who obviously run off.

They heard Wally speaking before they’ve seen him.

“Hey, hey calm down. It’s fine, they’ll be there in a second, just chill. They’re right after me, whatever happened, we’ll help you in just a moment, you don’t have to run. You’re barely standing. Phantom, calm down”

M’gann barely made it around the corner and she thought she had seen Kaldur actually smacking into the wall. He brushed it off.

Phantom looked beyond rough. It seemed like Wally, who had ghost’s arm across his shoulders, was only thing holding him up. His feet were firmly on the ground, not in his usual way, when he looked just a breeze away from flying, but in this fully human way, which was unsettling. His face was gray instead of his usual almost tan, eyes wide and terrified.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he muttered, not looking at anyone in particular “I’m sorry, I’m sorry”

“Phantom, it’s fine. It’s fine, we know about the room, it’s fine,” Robin said, trying to placate him. It didn’t quite work. Ghost was on the verge of hyperventilating, which was a bit weird to see on someone for who breathing was voluntary.

“It’s not about room”

“I’m sure it’s fine anyway”

“It’s anything but. I’m sorry-”

“Shut up and tell us what happened if you’re so sure we will be pissed”

“Artemis!”

“Portal”

“What about it?”

“Portal is what killed me.”

M’gann didn’t like how the whole situation looked before, but it suddenly became much worse.

“My Death Day made another one”

[knuckleblaster]

vumos are restocking on black friday! link to tweet

[end0r4]

« Bella, you're back. »

Poor Things (2023) dir. Yorgos Lanthimos

[starleska]

psst, hey, fellow selfshippers and lovers of fictional characters!! something i want to share and reassure folks on as a person who gets character crushes super easily: don't be embarrassed by whoever's making your brain light up 🥰💖 i see some lovely folks get really in their head about this. perhaps they've always crushed on a specific kind of character, so when they get one who's a little different, they feel like they can't talk about it. maybe they've touted themselves as having one crush and have been super dedicated that whole time, so feel like it's a betrayal somehow, or makes them less of whichever label (e.g., yume, selfshipper, etc.) they've identified with. i'm here to tell you that's all nonsense!! 💖 this is fandom. you're not an influencer and you don't need to keep up a specific 'brand'!! if you see a character who makes your heart all gushy, don't think up an imaginary critical audience who is going to yell at you for not fixating on the 'right' thing. life's too short to deny yourself happiness 🫂