#i am... nervous. to say the least.

[biatels]

first big test of the degree wish me luck

[starry-bi-sky]

Clone^2 - Separation Strikes

"Why do I have to go?" Damian asks, surly and accent-thick, it sounds more like a demand and a whine at the same time. Sitting on the kitchen table with his arms crossed, in a green t-shirt that Danny bought him at a whim when he was at a thrift shop, and black shorts, he's never looked more like a kid. There's a little backpack leaning against the table leg, Damian begrudgingly picked it out when they went shopping.

His English has grown in leaps and bounds since Danny found him -- er, or more accurately; since Damian was spat out in front of him. -- and very little did they have to use the translator on Danny's phone these days.

Which meant one thing: Damian can start attending school comfortably now. And 'go' was the Amity Smiles Child Care Center. Danny and Jazz went as kids until they were twelve, and Mom and Dad actually managed to convince the center director to let Damian enroll for the summer.

And it was summer; Damian starts today.

"Because," Danny says, trying and failing to hide the smile pulling on his face, his heart warm and soft, and also laughing at Damian's expense; "being cooped up in the house all day isn't good for you, and you're starting school in the Fall. And, in Jazz's words: you need to have interactions with other kids your age for the benefit of your social development. And besides, it's only for the morning."

Damian's nose scrunches up, and his eyes roll so violently that for a moment, Danny thinks about joking that he'll get his eyes stuck like that. He holds his tongue; his little brother already looks like he's five seconds away from committing an act of violence.

"I don't need social interaction." Damian sneers, his cheek in his hand; a neverend pool of pride. "I am--"

"The Blood of the Demon Heir, better than everyone else." Danny cuts off, waving his hand in dismissive circles, his voice mockingly deep. Damian's brown skin darkens in embarrassment, and he scowls at Danny. "I know, bud. But Jazz is right, -- don't tell her I said that, -- you should be around kids your age."

Especially when he starts First Grade in the Fall. Honestly -- Danny was a little nervous to send him to the center. Damian's long since cut the habit of trying to kill or otherwise maim people, his palms ache-burn with gentle reminder, but his tongue was as sharp and as cutting as his sword. He still struggles with trying to quell it when he's upset. Vicious child-weapon that he once was, and will never be again.

Danny knows that it comes from a place of fear and defense, that Damian lashes out because that's what he's been taught. That at the end of the day, he doesn't really mean what he says, and he's learning to express himself better. But the other kids don't know that, and kids can be unforgiving and cruel.

Danny just...

His slow beating heart sighs, melancholy settles behind his lungs.

He doesn't want Damian to be outcasted. He doesn't want him to be alone.

Not like he was.

Damian sneers again, but says nothing, his shoulders crawling up to hide his ears like a turtle receding into his shell. Danny watches him silently, leaning against the kitchen counter with his own arms crossed. The clock hanging on the wall ticks in their ears -- it's almost time to go.

He watches Damian, careful, and so he sees it when his little brother's stone-shell pride and petulance shudders, and cracks. The darkened furrow of Damian's brows weakens, and for a moment, slants back.

Ah, Danny thinks, his own shoulders slumping. Epiphany washes over him, and his sad-heart soothes in warm understanding. So that's what it is.

His head tilts, and his hair spills over his shoulders, messy and fluffy, tickling his neck. Some of his bangs fall into his face. "Hal 'ant easabiatan ya habibi?" He asks, voice low and soft. Just as Damian's English has improved, so has Danny's Arabic. He still stumbles over himself some days, and Damian says his accent is trash, but they can have whole conversations now in Damian's mothertongue.

(Danny was incredibly proud of himself for it.)

Damian's face darkens, his blush spreading across the rest of his face, and he ducks his head down. Grown-out curls, black-brown and springy, falls over his eyes. "La!" He yells, loud and indignant, and not at all convincingly. "La 'asheur bialtawaturi!"

He was nervous. Danny can see it now, in the hunch of his shoulders and the tightness of his face, and faintly, he can feel it too. In the ecto-rich air of the Fentonworks House, it thrums, barely-there, like a hummingbird behind his lungs.

Danny can't stop the little, fond smile that forces itself across his lips and upticks the corner of his mouth. "It's okay to be nervous, little brother." He says, he sounds like Jazz when he says that. He doesn't think she'll mind him borrowing the nickname.

He pushes himself off the counter, and Damian refuses to look at him, hiding behind his hair and in his shoulders. It takes three long strides for him to reach the table, and Danny turns, plants his hands on the ledge, and hoists himself up. Right next to Damian.

Damian leans into him easily when Danny's arm wraps around his shoulders and tucks him close to his heart. He can feel his ear against his ribs. Danny hunches over him, resting his chin on Damian's head. "It's so okay to be nervous, actually. I was nervous, Jazz was nervous." He tells him, scratching the blunt edge of his nails across his scalp. "Everyone gets nervous."

"'Ana last aljumiea." Damian mumbles, as small and feeble as he was the night on the OPS Center balcony, realizing that his mom and the League weren't coming for him. Realizing that he was replaceable.

Danny's half-working heart squeezes; in grief, in rage, and his faucet eyes sting. He breathes in carefully, and presses his nose into Damian's hair in a loving faux-kiss. "You're right, you're not everyone." He says, steady and strong, because if he's not a pillar for his family, who else is he?

He can feel Damian's eyes flick up to him, and Danny smiles into his black-brown curls. Tilts his head to squish his cheek against him instead, hand dropping to thumb below Damian's lashes. "You're Damian Fenton," Because the adoption went through a few weeks ago, and he's still riding that high, "You're my baby brother. O' Artist Extraordinaire, Kickass with a Sword, Vegetarian and Wonderful Co-Ghost Hunter."

Damian tries to stifle a smile, and fails. Score! Triumph gathers in Danny's gut, his smile grows wider. He squeezes Damian tight, and only releases him so he can look him in the eyes. "And if anyone gives you a hard time at school, and I mean anyone--"

Danny has bad memories of the teachers looking the other way when the other kids were bullying him, all because he was a Fenton.

And Danny, bleeding heart, bleeding hands, loves his family more than he will ever love himself, will never let Damian experience the same injustice. Not if he can help it.

His eyes narrow, and the buzzy-film of ectoplasm covers his eyes, making them glow, "--You tell me. And as your awesome great big brother-and-technically-dad-but-only-biologically, I will handle it."

Damian, wonderfully made, full of light, his little brother Damian, giggles weakly at him. A sound that's worth it's weight in gold. The scary eyes dissipate, and Danny matches the sound with a cock-eyed, impish grin, dragging Damian into a soul-crushing, too-tight hug. The kind that only annoying older brothers can give. "Got it?"

That gets a proper, if short, laugh out of Damian. He wriggles in Danny's arms, trying to break free. But Danny does calisthenics, his arms are as big as Damian's head, so it doesn't work. "Understood, now, daeni 'adhhab ya 'akhi!"

Danny laughs, loud and bright, and loosens his hold just a smidge, only so he can adjust his grip and hop off the table with Damian still in arm.

"Never!" He crows, hoisting Damian slightly. One eye flick at the clock, and in one quick move, he secures Damian under one arm like a football, and hooks his foot under the strap of his backpack. Kicking it up, he tosses it into the air and catches it with his free hand, and slings it over his shoulder. "Now, to the car, my boy! Before we're late and Mom and Dad get charged."

Damian groans, childish and dramatic and long, but his face is all squished up with a wide grin and glee. Danny can taste his joy beneath his tongue.

"And, if my little pep talk didn't encourage you," He says, reaching the door to the garage, flipping Damian up onto his hip instead. "If you have a good day today, I'll make you bal mithai when you get back."

Like all kids at the promise of sweets, Damian's eyes widen and glitter. Danny loves seeing Damian be a kid, it's his favorite thing in the world. "I will!"

[dogboots]

normal about these two...

[pardonmydelays]

tøp: mtv unplugged will always be so special to me because it actually shows how fucking talented those guys are

[navyinks]

I'm excited to say that after two years of little to no progress, Dandelion Children will finally be getting some pretty meaningful updates this year ^-^

Although most pre-existing characters will stay, their designs have all undergone significant changes and the plot will focus on Neppie's journey rather than Rahn's final days. New characters will also begin showing up in the next few months :) You can check out the Dandelion Children tag on my blog to see previous characters designs and story concepts.

My art goal for 2024 is to tell more stories, and I'm really excited to share with everyone what I've been working on for a while now :) I'm grateful for those who still remember Dandelion Children & hope it isn't too late to begin pushing the story out! xD

[dreamsicle262]

if the reading comprehension of some people who do make dead plate text posts is so bad (as i've had at least two people tell me in the tags) then maybe i SHOULD start analyzing every little detail in the game.

[janebonbon]

I'm drawing a bit tonight, a treat to myself! Trying to be kinder to myself etc etc.. Though I have had an idea! I have always thought art streams seemed nice! But I am terrible at talking (autism!!) But I've recently had a thought. What if I had an art stream along with music live from my reel to reel? I know I can find out someway to get it to work, surely! But I think it sounds fun. One of those cozy sorts of streams!!

[reikunrei]

oh nervous nervous nervous nervous!!!

[jichanxo]

re: senseific, i don't remember if you've talked about it, but i was a little bit surprised that it was sawa who suggested kitakata as an advisor for amasawa. yeah it's been 13 years, and in the game their relationship is not particularly hostile, but i still wait from her the "fuck that guy" attitude towards him xD speaking of (and this, of course it doubtly would be The Theme, but will you talk about their relationship or just mention that stuff happened and they got over it? or not at all?

you all know the drill ↓

Considering the outcome of the Kusumoto situation in sensei au, I don’t think her feelings towards him would be so negative. He mishandled the situation at first, sure, but he realised it was serious, and I think he did everything he could to make things right. Of course, effort alone isn’t enough to make up for all the awful things that already happened because of him, but it must count for something, right? Kitakata was willing to admit he was wrong, presumably apologised, took responsibility, put in the work. I think Sawa sees that. That he’s flawed but ultimately sincere and trying.

Her impression of Kitakata isn’t wholly positive ��� she’s levelheaded and sees his flaws very clearly, especially now as his colleague (he’s prone to mess and disorganisation, and I see him as being kind of lazy and inconsiderate at times in his day to day). He perhaps doesn’t deserve her respect, and Sawa is definitely the better teacher, but I think her presence helps hold Kitakata to account. She expects quite a bit of him, and Kitakata knows this, wants to be the person that she expects him to be. Kitakata’s wish to change and do better is sincere, but I think he might slip back into old habits if he wasn’t diligent, and Sawa’s presence helps.

She certainly expects Kitakata to at least hear a student out when they go to speak to him, and she’s known him long enough to notice him with a mystery novel or two. Why not ask him to help the mrc? ...well, I dunno. I’m not married to the idea. But that’s the train of thought.

I don’t know how in depth I’ll go with those two, mostly because I’m approaching the Sawa-Kitakata relationship from the angle of Yagami seeing that there’s something going on there, but not knowing exactly what. So for the most part, it’s not going to be something that’s spoken about outright. But their relationship is interesting and I think it speaks especially to Kitakata’s personal motivations and shortcomings in a way that can’t be done any other way.

[holographicbutch]

Karaoke in two hours AAAAAAAAAA

[the-casbah-way]

the best writing advice i can give you is to ignore all of those people who insist there are a bunch of rules you need to follow in order to be a Good Writer, or are so painfully terrified of doing anything that has been done before or could be deemed cliched that they end up shoving themselves into a tiny box they’ve invented that completely restricts them creatively and stunts any kind of genuine growth they might get to experience as a writer. i ignore the rules of grammar fucking constantly if i think it serves the tone of my narrative better, because i think a sentence that’s ‘too long’ and doesn’t have enough punctuation is a GOOD thing if you want to illustrate a frantic or stressed person’s mindset. i WILL write the most stereotypical cheesy ending to a story because sometimes it just makes the most sense to do that because of the themes and conflicts im working with and im not going to force myself NOT to do it just because it’s ‘predictable’ or someone else did it before me (guess what everything has been done already and doing something that has literally never been done before is not actually what originality is). stop scaring yourself away from exploring and finding your own unique writing style just because someone is telling you you need to obsess over and memorise a load of non existent rules that people often just throw around to make themselves sound intelligent (it’s not working. you are dumb)

[thesorrowoflizards]

i really like ericka and wolf's interactions in the pilot. and honestly just generally wolf's interactions with the interns

[presidentdisastraofgallifrey]

I do more or less trust Gallifrey as a series to make sense, but they’re going to explain stuff in the next one right? Because the more I think about it the more Narvin was more out of character than anyone in Renaissance. Romana and Leela leaving isn’t what they’d do now, but the impulse is there for both of them, always, to have a chance at freedom/belonging/whatever, and Trey manipulated it expertly to be ideal conditions for that to manifest. I mean, Romana all but said at the end of Extermination that she had been running away to other worlds this whole time. But Narvin was like…season 1 Narvin, all calm duty with his real feelings completely invisible as he sentenced and exiled her. Where was Romana’s attack dog?

[cosmics-beings]

ugh so many megatron thoughts that i am honestly just too afraid to post but i have so many meta about him that i wanna write but im just afraid of how people will take them.

[intertexts]

i keep going god...... i feel so uncreative i feel like i haven't been able to do anything..... & it's like. boy you've been going 6-8 every single day for the past several weeks. and u just posted a 5k oneshot a couple days ago. stares into the mirror.

[venomnyx]

having my first MRI at the end of the month. im not claustrophobic but i am terrified of needles so the dye injection is particularly scary for me )):