#i just came up with it on the spot

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

real talk having the 2nd worst new years eve yet 🤢🤢🤢 (throat infection, twisted neck, banged-about-foot, ego AND the rest o' me all bruised like misjuggled peaches 🍑🍑🍑)

im bent outa shape and suspectin the universe owes me 8 buck if anyone wannsa chip in

[mmmairon]

All patched up

[kiidart]

(click for better quality! 🖥️)

pt.1

i love bratty computers breathe if u agree <3

this is a little long, so continue reading below! :3

[siliconcat]

The witch’s drafting sheet

[starry-bi-sky]

I'm in A Mood™ (stressed) so im going back to my roots of melting two character together into one person. So bruce wayne!danny fenton. Danny Fenton who, for eight years, grew up in a beautiful gothic manor with his mom and dad under the name "Bruce Wayne". Playing piano with his mother, running around the manor with his father.

Then when he's eight it's ripped away from him. There's blood on his hands and pearls pooling at his feet, and both his parents are dead in front of him.

And he gets shipped off to distant relatives "the Fentons" shortly after, Alfred close on his heels because someone needs to take care of him, someone that knows him. Bruce goes to the Fentons for the safety of anonymity. Gotham's press wants to sink its teeth into him.

Danny misses his city even if it took everything from him. There are shadows in his eyes and he's pale as a sheet even beside his distant cousins, and they change his name to "Danny Fenton' because nobody should know that their newest child was illustrious orphan Bruce Wayne.

They call him Bruce behind closed doors. Danny prefers it that way, he clings onto the name -- the one his parents gave him -- like a lifeline. He makes friends with Sam and Tucker. Tucker takes one look at the willowy, morbid little boy standing in the corner like a shade, ghosts in his eyes, and drags him out into the sunlight, and takes him over to Sam.

When Danny is twelve, he's still not over it -- and he's a little obsessed with the Fentons' research, with the morbid. He has books upon books on death, murder, detective work. Anything he can get his hands on. And stars. He loves stars.

Alfred owns the apartment next to them and comes over regularly. Danny clings to him.

When Danny is twelve, he's still quiet, meek, a shy little thing prone to being bullied. Freaky little Fenton with the night in his eyes and too-cold skin even before he put one foot in the grave. in a sleepover in his room with Sam and Tucker, he tells them the truth. They're his friends, he trusts them.

"My name is Bruce." he murmurs, voice quiet as the breeze, always quiet. he's staring at his star-covered sheets.

"Like Bruce Wayne?" Tucker asks, a joking tone in his voice.

Danny smiles a little, lamb-like with insecurity. "I am Bruce Wayne." And he takes them down to the lab, disrupting Maddie and Jack, to prove it. Sam tells them of her own wealth then shortly after. They start calling Danny "Bruce" in private too -- its trust. Thats what it is. It's trust.

Sam goes to media functions and comes back with aching feet and complaints on her tongue -- and Danny soaks it up all like a sponge, splayed across a beanbag chair with Tucker in her room. He's not envious of her, he used to go to events with his parents and they kept him safe from the ugly of Gotham's Elite. For the most part. He's had comments made at him, he doesn't miss them.

Alfred returns to the manor semi-regularly, Danny goes with him. he wanders the hallways and helps Alfred clean, the last thing either of them want is for their home to fall into disrepair. He brings Jazz with him next time, then Tucker, then Sam. They all help him clean, and he shows them his room. The one across from his parents', it feels strange.

When Danny dies when he's fourteen, the first adult he tells is Alfred. He and Jazz go over to his house more often than they stay in the Fentonworks building. At least at Alfred's, the food doesn't come to life. Alfred sits at the kitchen table and weeps when Danny tells him, Jazz is upstairs, and its just the two of them.

Danny's ghost form wears pearls around his wrist and the gloves look stained with some kind of black substance. He looks like a child who died in a lab accident, but he also looks like a child who has shadows dripping off his shoulders, curling at his feet, hanging from his eyes.

because amorphous blob batman has my heart always and danny/bruce will not escape it even in death even if that IS the only reason im giving him Mild BatBlob Vibes...so far

when they go to the manor, alfred helps danny make a pile of stones between Martha and Thomas' graves, nobody but the two of them (and sam and tucker) will know what it means. (not even bruce's children later down the line, not for a long, long time)

danny dives into ghost fighting on shaky feet and not half as witty as he once was in one world. he's skittish, skittering between blasts from shadow to shadow and clumsily making his way through each battle. but helping people lights a fire in him. he still has shadows dripping off his feet but there's a purpose in his eyes.

and god help him, he's going to help people.

[w1f1n1ghtm4r3]

a bunch of bugs and one dog

[gcballet]

Just saw someone complaining about the Newhart ending from 0611 being mockery of people who ship Nandermo and frankly I can only imagine that account is someone who's under 20 bc that is not what mockery/rejection of queer ship fans looks like. You were in preschool when BBC's Merlin came out, you don't know. S6 and finale spoilers below.

The point of the Newhart parody ending was to provide an ending for fans who just wanted WWDITS to stay a goofy status quo sitcom. It's answering the black and white footage of the vampires in the 1950s. The sitcom status quo is a famously really hard trope to work with. The Simpsons is literally still struggling with it - decades of skilled comedy writers have never defeated it. It's a commentary on being satisified by the media we consume. The vampire can never fully be satisfied, no matter how many lives she consumes. The status quo can never be broken no matter how many episodes it attempts.

The 1980s trope of 'it was all a dream' happens in The Bob Newhart Show, it happens in St. Elsewhere, it happens in Dallas. They aren't mocking a queer ship, they're mocking sitcoms and how they've been hamstrung by format in terms of the story they can tell. Assume they did pursue Nandermo unambiguously, onscreen. It would be legitimately too dark for a sitcom. Or conversely, too hopeful for a documentary.

The other generic format choice restricting them is the documentary, because everything the characters do in the show is them being watched by a group of strangers with film equipment. None of their behaviour is wholly real. The entirety of the finale is Guillermo realising his behaviour will change when the crew leave. His behaviour has been influenced by the presence of cameras, and it will happen again. For the first time in six years, he's going to experience actual privacy, and there will be scope for him to express things he has deliberately suppressed with the cameras on. In the first episodes of S5, we saw him get increasingly frustrated with the crew, calling them vultures, as they tried to get the story on what happened with Derek. He's ready for his privacy back, and space to change, but the vampires live by sitcom rules. They aren't prepared to change, or at least, he isn't confident about it.

What We Do In The Shadows (2019-2024) is restricted by two specific genres and their conventions, and the first two 'endings' - the dream sequence and the switching off the cameras - represent exiting both of those genres before any significant radical moves can be implied for Nandermo.

It's a sitcom, therefore the central couple must be in perpetual will-they-won't-they (Friends), the gays must be physically chaste (Modern Family), and the status quo must be maintained (The Simpsons). Once the sitcom is ended via the Newhart ending (which positions Guillermo and Nandor as a married couple, that's not a small thing at all), the documentary tropes can close out.

Documentary tropes are a little harder to pin down, but generally the story should end with Guillermo truly moving on and leaving in a poignant and somewhat tragic way.

Guillermo's narrative thread throughout the documentary version of the show is about his identity and relationship with Nandor. He gives the cameras a big show of finally saying goodbye to Nandor, going on to be a new version of himself, and waits until the crew begin to derig before acknowledging again that a documentary is performative, and he intends to continue their relationship. The documentary format means intimate moments must be captured. When the documentary ends, the intimacy may be private. That's why we don't get a Nandermo kiss. It's allowed to be private now.

Guillermo is sad throughout the finale, yes, but I would argue he's actually mostly stressed, because on one level he understands that the show must commit to one of two trope endings. The sitcom, the repeating lives of the vampires where nothing matters and you can be hypnotised to believe there was nothing deep about it. Or the documentary, where he is forced to tragically leave forever, having learnt a valuable 16 year lesson, perhaps meeting again for a 'where are they now?' Twenty years later.

He thinks he has to choose in under an hour, between the endless sitcom cycle the vampires find natural, or walking away with the humans who made the documentary to capture something ephemeral and temporary.

They do both, and then Nandor and Guillermo get what is clearly the ultimate ending. It's not formatted in such a way that you choose between endings. They're not alternate endings, they're subsequent endings. It doesn't have multiple endings like Clue, it has multiple endings like The Return of the King.

And maybe Guillermo and Nandor don't kiss on the mouth and declare their love for one another, but the camera crew is still leaving the room. What they do do is agree to stay together and work together on something to make themselves and/or the world better. Then Nandor invites Guillermo to share his pseudo-bed and disappear into a private space he has created in secret for the two of them. Even phrased matter of factly that's romantic. Someone flippantly called it 'the gays getting sent to super hell' and wow way to deliberately miss the point. Nandor never follows through on big projects, but he built a miles deep tunnel under the earth so he and Guillermo could at last be alone away from a huge documentary crew and roommates with super hearing. That's beautiful. They don't owe you an onscreen kiss to prove they're in love. They (Nandermo and the show producers) don't even owe you representation, and if you think otherwise, you've not bought into the premise of the show. You are the voyeur watching the documentary, the fan watching the Ross and Rachel (Nandor and Guillermo have been compared to them by the cast).

The whole point of the endings is that they moved Nandermo outside the unreality of TV genres. Not a sitcom will-they-wont-they, not a tragedy within a documentary, just two weird guys in a coffin in a hole in the ground, doing whatever they want because nobody is watching and judging.

They didn't make Nandermo canon, they made Nandermo real.

[honey--mustard]

Sketch requested by my friend. We saw an image on Pinterest and her immediately asked if I could draw it. I just made it into togachako.

Should I color this? Lol

[skitskatdacat63]

For Dru (@fortheloveofaussiegrit), thank you for completely and utterly brainrotting me with this moment 🙏

[luckyartdrawer]

(Bitter) Sweet! Art & Drabble

For @divinit3a Café Lunch Rush prompt list! There's still plenty of time before the first prompt is due (Jan 12th), and there's 2 other prompts as well for the month! Definitely check it out lovelies! <3

Drabble name: Instability Of The Heart Contents: Sun x reader, Heavy Pinning, Bitter Sweetness Chosen Words: Clouds, Opals, Celebration, Star-crossed, Letting Go, Hope, Candle Word Count: 1,625

(Close Ups are also at the bottom <3)

It’s been a whole year…

Unsure how to approach the festivities now, Sun decided to find a quiet spot instead, spending all morning setting things up to participate in his own way. He couldn't not join in, but it just wouldn't be right to go back into the thick of it either.

The not-too-far-off town square, only a mile below his expanse of cloud, is alive in the lieu of celebration. The live orchestra plays the same casual songs, their passion dying the expanse of clouds they rest upon pink with their infectious energy, and the music drifts up clear as day to his ears despite the distance. The community brightens at each strum of a chord, chatter so lively that they create lyrics to their own song. They all are so alight that even once the sun sets, not even a single candle will be necessary to keep the festival bathed in a warm glow.

Sun sighed as he looked towards his namesake, feeling both relief and dread seeing it only moved a little since he last checked, located slightly past the center of the sky above him. Any moment now the square should clear its center and engage in its Hearthwarming Dance.

A spark crackles in his chest, sending longing pangs to his heart and head. It swirls through the burning magma and dips through every ligament, the tips of his fingers and toes buzzing with the itch to do something.

He turns to his partner, waiting for the first note of the new song to swell before grabbing their soft hand and whispering,

“May I have this dance?”

Without his usual banter, Sun embraces them and sways to the familiar beat without hesitation.

Upon closing his eyes, he is suddenly not dancing on a patchy field of clouds, but rather upon a lively opal plaza shimmering in the warm sunlight; the polished stone reflecting all those lovely pink clouds to create a mosaic, speckled with a rainbow of beautiful color.

Yet, the way you shined changed everything. It had completely ruined his view of beauty.

Your smile glistened through the sheer cloud of stardust that orbits around your form. Your eyes were as hypnotic as the ring of light you absorb, blindingly white before turning into a pitch black that's impossible for him to comprehend. He could barely even remember what you wore that day, too busy memorizing your face.

You were a star that had gone supernova, a rarity unseen for the last 3 centuries, let alone for a star of your kind.

Even the thought of your imagery causes him to inhale sharply. He clutches at his partner tightly, mindless of the give as he steps around in a traditional dance.

You were so scared when the change happened all those months ago...

Sun had found you holed up in your dark room, begging him to not look at you. He had initially come over to barge down your door for being an hour late to meet him, only to find your home was unlocked. It wasn't too unusual, so he welcomed himself inside, used to doing so after years of friendship.

His bitterness over how you kept him waiting for so long evaporated at finding your tearful state, almost unrecognizable if it weren't for your usual wear and voice.

He's still ashamed to say that he was enraptured by you despite the state you were in.

You were a glimmering dwarf star before, enchanting enough as is, and yet somehow you turned into something even more bewitching, compounding his years of desire into something even stronger. It felt right. Not to see you sad, but to see you in that form. Everything about it felt like you. The pull was indescribable in every step he took, the very essence of you invading his senses.

As soon as he recounts reassuring you, drying your tears, and pulling you into a hug; he snaps back to having you in his arms in the light of day, grasping his right hand and prancing with ease across the square, expertly avoiding other participants.

The magnetic pull is intense, the need to somehow get closer and closer was nearly impossible to ignore. He wanted to run away from such a force, yet he only clutched your hand tighter as he spun you, pulling your back into his chest and locking you there for a beat too long.

He was so afraid that you could read his every move, regardless of knowing your sheer obliviousness to his desires.

You always playfully indulged his yearly insistence of being your dance partner, yet nothing had come of it from either side. But this time, his gaze was constantly locked with yours, unable to break contact. His possessive grip had ensnared you, barely leaving even an inch between you. He couldn't help but pause, disregarding the mass of bodies moving around him, wanting to hold you forever.

How could it not be obvious?

Regardless, he knew it was inevitable he'd spill out his soul to you soon, barely able to restrain his lips from colliding into yours at that very moment.

He hoped, he prayed, he begged like a mantra to the celestial mother that you'd feel the same. That this magnetism isn't so one sided. That restraint would one day be unnecessary and he'd finally be able to drink in the flavor of your kiss.

Only mere seconds had passed when he released you from his hold, continuing the dance as if nothing happened. Perhaps to you, nothing did happen.

Would that explain what had happened?

He spent that whole day with you, following you to vendors with traditional carbon foods and indulging in your proximity as you'd graze hands and bump shoulders on occasion, finally left comfortably alone as the town's people were accustomed to your new appearance by then.

He was more than happy to scoop you up the moment you said you were getting tired and overwhelmed. You insisted that you didn't want the fun to end, but he could tell by the sound of your voice that you at least needed a change of pace.

The sun was setting when he leapt up stray puffs of clouds to the field above the plaza. He pranced in circles, leaping gaps to the dying beats of music, and teasing about dropping you through them when you didn't believe he could cross. Your rivers of laughter only fueled his audacity, as he never wanted to hear them end. Inevitably, his foot barely slipped off the edge of one of his more daring jumps, causing the two of you to fall forward and collide with the cloud beneath you.

Despite the grunt the two of you made at the impact, you were quick to laugh at Sun’s failure, teasing him about his cockiness biting him in the behind.

But Sun couldn't ignore the press of his body on top of yours, the echoing melody of your voice ensnaring his throat, refusing to allow him to even draw breath, let alone words. His mind fogged over, the only reprieve to his pinning troubles all pointed towards you, and he desperately needed that relief.

Your lips were more delicious than he could have ever dreamed of, your endearing expression was wide eyed and glowing.

Glowing so much that he actually had to close his eyes for a moment to recuperate, despite how much he wanted to savor your appearance.

And then with a fluttering blink, he's back in the present, kneeling down in the same position over some sad facimally of you. The cloud he molded this morning was mangled already from his delusions, but due to his fall it had melded into the cloud below it, its pink color feeling more taunting than sweet.

Sun looked down at his hand to find a tiny piece of said cloud still in it, a tear welling up in his eye.

It was too fitting.

In that original moment, it was as if you dissolved right in his arms after that kiss, but he refuses to believe anything bad happened. He searched your home, your favorite places, and even contacted your friends and family. No one knew where you were.

Some believed you to be dead after he finally admitted what happened between the two of you.

He vehemently denied that possibility, despite the plausibility. You were barely older than he was, still spry with centuries of life ahead of you. You couldn't just die from a kiss…

The only spark of hope he was given was when he questioned one of the elder Neutron stars, one of whom recalled personally knowing a singular supernova; one who had been taken suddenly to a world beyond the sky to contain their unstable make up. They had returned only once to explain their departure, before saying goodbye for their next one shortly after.

Sun brought the small puff of cloud to his lips – it should have been your hand.

He couldn't repress the tear that escaped him.

It's been a year since your disappearance. He still hasn't given up on his star-crossed lover, if he may even call you that. Your sudden departure left him wanting, stagnant, unsure of so many things.

If you reciprocated, wouldn't you have come back to him by now..?

Overtime, many have caught onto his depressed demeanor and advised him that it's best to learn to let go.

Preaching that waiting is fruitless.

Denouncing the Neutron’s tall tale of some magical plain snatching you away.

Scolding Sun for ruining his life over some runaway star.

However, he cannot help it; you own all the hope he has left. As he is unfortunately, completely, woefully in love with you.

Close Ups!

[fisheito]

at last....yakumo with CHIKEN

[mewkwota]

An older doodle of this dad and his baby boy again. Yuichiro would fall asleep in front of his computer again, but can you blame him for it?

[afraidparade]

What's a fun fact bout each of your ocs?

hmmmm lemme try to think of something i haven’t mentioned much or at all for them lol

faust: scared of large bodies of water, regardless of if they were on his home planet or on earth.

luka: really enjoys classic/retro anime, despite having no nostalgic attachment to it due to his strict parents not allowing him to watch it in childhood.

theo: youngest of four, he gets along with his older sisters but doesn’t keep in frequent contact with them (or anyone in his family for that matter).

pazu: for a period of time when he was sealed away, kids and teenagers would come to the shrine/structure he was sealed in on halloween as some sort of test of bravery. he would try to gauge the passing of years by listening for them, but eventually they stopped coming.

blood moon: despite being a very adept exorcist, she was known to be a bit of a slob.

gabe: has a very impressive array of expensive barista equipment — possibly maybe coincidentally only started collecting this equipment after meeting theo.

robin: went through a punk phase before his “cute” phase, hence why he has a lot of piercings.

avery: was actually able to faintly detect ghosts when he was very young, but has lost the majority any exorcist powers his distant lineage allowed him to have in the first place.

lam: might legitimately be my only straight oc and i find that very funny

[burgycreeper405-blog]

i dont know why brain made me draw this. i guess i just like sickphone4 that much to make him a frikin "ref sheet" lmaooo

[canthandlethishit]

Batfam’s handwriting headcanons!!

Alfred (right handed): cursive, normally neat and kind of flowery calligraphic(?) (he usually write the gala, party invitations for worthy guests himself), his notes are written just as neat but the letters are more narrow and tilted to the right.

Brucie (left handed): writes in cursive, bubbly letters, flowery, extravagant with endless numbers of loops and stems, big flourishes (picture light yagami writing) watching him write is a performance itself (near impossible to read, looks like an art piece from afar)

Bruce (self-trained ambidextrous, favors his left though is equally efficient with both hands): rounded print (for notes in reports), and cursive (for personal writings), he’d had some influence from alfred so theres a little extra in his writing like an extra curve, stem (ie: his i’s & t’s got lil hooks, his v as a downward stem at the end), but its overall quite minimalistic and tidy, there’s sufficient force on the paper.

Batman: doesn’t write >:( computer <- duh (if he really has to like idk the riddler forces him to write sth he would in caps block letters very strong straight lines, almost like excessively forced and he also place his pinkie on the pen/pencil to further deter identification, he switches hands every time to keep people off-track)

Dick (trained ambidextrous, favors his right, naturally right-handed until robin): cursive quick and kind of messy but still eligible writing, he’s used to taking quick notes (cop job), his letters are jaded, pointed (ie: his b’s are written like music notes, not rounded). he uses average force when writing (dents the paper but not through multiple pages), his letters’ spacing are nonexistent they overlap a bit, his words narrowly apart.

Jason (circumstantial ambidextrous, favors his right, his left handwriting is still neat, not as pretty as his right’s): cursive, his handwriting experienced several metamorphosis, he was left handed by birth & mother’s teachings, then at school he was taught write right-handedly. His writing was somewhat neat minimally scratchy, letters joined with loops, generous spacing. during his time with bruce he copies writing styles from his favorite authors (look up Jane Austen), Alfred and ends up with a very distinct, tilted to the right, beautiful scripture, some loops (Mary Shelly), long y’s and consonants. Post-death, he still got a nice handwriting, just less of the pizazz, the flare of personality bleeding through ink, its more tamed, still slanted, he doesn’t take as much care to force distribution (calligraphic way) but it just became more subtle, not completely gone.

Cass (ambidextrous, writes left handed): print, when first asked which hand she’d like to learn to write with she chose left, she didn’t learn to write ambidextrously. clean yet a bit weirdly spaced, she dots her i’s and cross her t’s after whole sentences. She likes making capital first letters of her text flowery like brucie’s, its amusing how out of place it looks.

Tim (self-trained ambidextrous, born left handed, writes with both hands interchangeably): cursive, young tim researched on lots of encryption, alternative writing systems. he take notes in shorthand’s, his handwriting is fairly eligible but frequently misses letters from words (ie: handwriting -> hdwritig). his lines are slanted downwards, narrow spacing overall.

Steph (trained ambidextrous, writes right handed, batman’s ambidexterity training for her hadn’t reached handwritings): mixed, her handwriting alternates between really messy and scratchy and more eligible curvy with sharp ends to her words (when writing lift pen up fast, bigger hand movement, picture a tame and hinged light yagami). Her lines tilt upwards from left to right. her writing’s eligibility depends on her mood, what she is writing.

Duke (right handed, trained ambidexterity but opted out of handwriting training): mixed, his letters are rounded and evenly spaced, fairly neat but scrawls when he’s in a rush (makes more sharp loops, longer curls at the ends, more connected words). his letter have thin loops, sometimes subconsciously dots his i’s with crescents. his lines tilt upwards slightly in the middle (he prefer to keep his lines straight so he take notice and fixes them).

Damian (natural ambidextrous, favors his left for arabic and his right for english): cursive, strong neat strokes, clean writing, clear appropriate spacing. its almost a font, print-like from how consistently he writes. His signature on his arts is more rounded with a bit of lilts and curves (the end of his m curve like the symbol for scorpio zodiac sign). His personal diary/journal writing is softer, his paragraphs more densely packed, the first letter of each entry are more ornate than the rest (loops, curves, tiny doodles)

note: handwriting style main variety are these

these headcanons are based on handwritings of people in my life & myself :)! not based on graphology (during my search for specific adjectives and vocabularies i came across some graphology & writing analysis articles and found them to be kind of mean & biased, rude etc so just clarifying im basing these hcs on my friends and family’s)

[jasontoddsotherhalf]

Thanksgiving at Wayne Manor

- No one is allowed in the kitchen except Alfred

- Alfred's famous pumpkin pie (he makes four and it's still not enough)

- Damian and Jason fight for the head of the table only for Bruce to sit there before either of them

- Dick begs to help in the kitchen but he can't cook for shit so instead he's in charge of supervising the family games while dinner gets prepared

- Tim Drake monopoly god like he's not even fun to play with at this point. ("Are you sure you want to do that?")

- Steph, Cass, and Jason actually love twister

- Bruce makes everyone dress relatively nice

- Damian repeatedly challenges Tim to monopoly games and is always loosing

- Dick is obsessed with Alfred's mashed potatoes and gravy

- Jason isn't usually picky but he is about Thanksgiving food. He usually eats stuffing, cooked carrots, some turkey, and of course a slice of pie. That's about it.

- Cass's pie is more wiped cream than actual pie.

- Duke is the only one who eats his mashed potatoes with a fork and pie with a spoon and no one knows why

- Babs comes over some years, but others she's with her family!

- one year Bruce invited some of the other JL members like Clark and Lois and Diana, and it was chaos.