#i woke up right after that

[whoa-where-did-the-pancakes-go]

What does it mean when u have a dream about living skeletons overrunning your neighborhood

[buttercupshands]

I started drawing this next day after I finished Act 6

13 or so days and it's finished!

Main things are traditional and Loop's body was edited digitally after

Unedited it looks like this

I've been torn on how to do Loop's body for the entirety of lining, also

A bit sad the main lines are visible only as a wip, most of this thing is literally just a ton of sharp lines

I think it's also my first day of drawing, Loop is just a sketch here (feat. my leg)

I even finished the beans before it so they were a moral support, because if you let me things like this take a year

[faeriekit]

Health and Hybrids (XXVIII)👽👻💚

[I can't remember the original prompt posters  for the life of me but here's a mashup between a cryptid!Danny, presumed-alien!Danny, dp x dc, and the prompt made the one body horror meat grinder fic.]

🖤Chapter navigation can be found here🖤 Click to browse previous updates.

💚 Ao3 Is here for all parts 💚 (now featuring mediocre mouseover translations, only available on a computer)

Where we last left off... Danny has another hashtag breakdown! Man, we've got a lot of these, huh? It's YJ's fault this time; whoopsie doodles! ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Trigger warnings for this story:  body horror | gore | post-dissection fic | dehumanization (probably) |  my nonexistent attempts at following DC canon. On with the show.

💚👻👽👻💚

“Danny,” Diana says from the door.

Danny looks up from his place in the book. It’s definitely aimed at younger kids, but it’s a pretty wordy picture book; there are a couple paragraphs he can’t quite parse, but he’s making pretty good progress on the words he can’t recognize.

It’s a story about a cat who misses its mother. Danny tries not to relate to it too much.

“Hm?” he asks, flipping the front flap of the dust cover over his current pages to mark his place. The book goes back onto the nightstand, beside his space shuttle; Danny uses the railing beside his bed to support himself stepping up and out of his wheelchair, leaning on the railing until he can figure out…wait, where’d he leave his old people walker?

“This walk is long. You will want your chair.”

Well, then. Couldn’t she have said that before Danny did all that pulling? Danny falls back into his chair, kinda peeved. “Fine.”

Diana smiles. She doesn’t have to wear the mask around him anymore— Danny’s pretty sure that his injuries have been declared as clotted, or sealed, or whatever at this rate. They for sure swabbed his ectoplasm and came to some kind of conclusion, anyway, which means he only looks gross, but isn’t, like…actively leaking fluids.

On the one hand, gross! But, well, you know. Nothing for it but bandaids and time.

And her face looks nice. Danny hadn’t known what she’d looked like, before. She smiles when she sees him. Her light eyes crinkle, and her lips turn up… She’s nice. Danny’s sure that she’s only there to be in charge of him in case he gets scary, but she’s in charge of him and she’s nice. She doesn’t have to be nice; lots of people have been in charge of him and been mean about it. There was that one guy who kept holding him—with the taser—

(Time slips away from him, a little. When he gets back to the world in front of him, Diana is carefully looking at his face, the back of her hand stroking the back of his.)

Danny’s in his chair. He’s not…there. He’s in his chair, on a big space station (????) with a bunch of really colorful fighters on it, and Diana is touching his hand (that’s so much weaker and slower than it used to be) and he’s not hungry and he’s only scared because of memories. He’s safe. He’s not being pinned down by the neck so that they can strap down his wrists and hips to the table—they’re not shocking him—he can move his fingers, he’s not stuck in his core—

His core throbs. Danny bites into his bisected lip, and tries not to cry.

“Are you alright?” Diana asks, voice gentled. The soft touch of her hand doesn’t stop. “We can wait. There is no—“

Danny shakes his head, and takes his hand away so he could wipe at his eyes. It’s fine. Bad memories are everywhere: in the walls, in the floor, in the ceiling, in the hands of people taking care of him. That’s not… There’s nothing Danny can do about that. That just. Takes time.

…He think he might have that time. Now. He thought he would die for good in that five by five box, waiting for something that would finally end him instead of just keeping him in a cycle of injuries he never fully healed from.

But now he’s not. He’s here.

He wants to keep going.

“Alright,” Diana says, slow and careful. “Hold on.”

Danny doesn’t hold on—or, well, you know, he engages his core muscles and all that, but he doesn’t cling to his arm rests or to the frame of his chair because he knows that Diana is really, really strong, but she also really, really doesn’t want to hurt him.

She rolls him out of the medical wing and into the space station proper. Danny feels like he’s been here before, but he doesn’t remember it super well. Maybe it was when he was sick or something? Either way, a lot of different people wave at him as they go by—or just straight up stare, if they’re rude—and Danny generally just watches people rush by, carrying all kinds of equipment, and a potted plant, and a…starfish in a jar…?

Oh, the starfish waves at him???? Danny waves back because?? What??

Danny rolls to a stop at a smooth, cylindrical elevator. It looks like a giant test tube.

…Oh boy. Danny takes a deep breath, and holds it. Reflexively. Sure, this elevator probably isn’t like being dunked into water to see if his body absorbs ambient oxygen from the atmosphere or if his biology is truly not oxygen-based, but the memory is. Bad.

They go upwards. Nothing happens but Diana’s pushed button.

Danny exhales.

They get off at a section of the base Danny’s never been to, and it's essentially just a long, somewhat narrow hallway. The walls are actually painted a creamy off-white here, and there’s…like…decorative panels towards the base of his wheels trailing down the hallway? An orange ceiling, too?

Huh??

The rooms are numbered, but they’re not plain steel like in other areas downstairs; some of them have stickers, or drawings, or marker written straight onto the door itself. They look...cozy...? Danny thinks so, anyway, compared to the rest of the ultra high tech space base.

They roll to a stop in front of a door. It’s got a number on it, same as all the others, but there’s a box cutout taped to the front of it. The—

—The print is of the same style of space shuttle Danny keeps next to his bed, inked onto glorious cardboard medium.

Danny stares.

“Gegrapa,” Diana urges, so gentle. Too bad that, uh, Danny doesn’t know that one. He looks at her. She mimes touching the door— Oh. Got it.

Danny leans forward just enough to touch the door with his fingertips.

The door says something in a robotic voice, but the synthesizer is too mangled for Danny to make out the words. The door slides open horizontally into the wall, instead of the way the other doors open like portals or from below, and it’s kind of cool?

Inside is a bedroom. Danny stares.

…No, it’s actually a bedroom. Not a medical wing, not a cot, not a repurposed conference room or—it’s actually got a bed in it. Like. A real one. There’s a wooden headboard and it’s got a mattress on it that’s thicker than a VCR.

There’s constellation sheets on a bed big enough to curl up on.

There’s a nightstand, a small desk on the far wall—there’s a little lip where the bedroom dips into a tiny sitting room, a small television on a table and a small table and chair. It’s kind of…it’s kind of like a little hotel suite.

Danny’s mouth goes dry.

He doesn’t move, and Diana doesn’t wheel him in. “It’s okay,” Diana says, and—Danny almost flinches when she touches his hair, but it’s only Diana, who’s never hit him, and they’re fine. He’s…safe. It’s safe. He’s safe here. “Do you want to go in?”

Danny doesn’t move. His hands don’t touch the wheels. They’re shaking; he puts his hands in his lap and he tries to breathe. “…What?” he asks hoarsely.

“A rum for my Danny,” Diana murmurs, quietly. Danny’s heart throbs at the possessive. “You are healthier now. You do not need doctors every hour, but only sum hours. You cuðe spenda more time here, all ana.”

Words go by so fast even at Diana's smooth, unhurried pace— and Danny licks dry, split lips. He looks around the room—and the room is small, sure, but they're in space. Space will always be a premium. Even in this small room, though, the furniture is sparse and placed distant from each other…distant enough that Danny can wheel around freely in his chair.

There’s a Moon clock display hung on the wall over the doorway, and Danny can faintly see the outline of what he assumes is the current lunar phase as seen from Earth.

Having the lamp isn’t exactly the same as glow-in-the-dark-stars, and thank goodness for that. If it had been, Danny might have cried.

(Or, he realizes, something burning in his eyes that isn’t ectoplasm, maybe he is crying.)

“...Me?” Danny asks, terrified to know the answer. Is this room for him?? Is he getting a room here? Is he supposed to stay here? On the moon?! Is he supposed to stay with everyone here, in a tiny room, where there’s nowhere to go and nowhere to escape?

…It’s a bedroom. It’s already so much more than the stupid guys in white ever gave him.

“Yes,” Diana says, and lets go of his hair. “Use it, or do not. Sitta here, or sitta in the medical bay, but now you have two choices.”

Okay. So Danny has choices. He swallows his feelings—they taste a lot like snot—and rolls himself inside to inspect the room.

There’s another little fridge inside the sitting area. It’s not right next to the bed like it is beside Danny’s cot, but it is the same style of fridge. When Danny pops the door open, it has the same styles of snacks. Fig Einsteins. Peanut butter squeezies and applesauce squeezies and yogurt squeezies. Protein shakes in bottles. Pedialight. Hummus packs.

Danny might still need someone to open the snack packs for him. That’s kind of a high dexterity food, if he thinks about it.

“If you wish to sitta here, we will visit you all you like. There is a belle at your bed,” Diana says, and walks in with all her purple scrubs and tied-up hair to point to a little button on his nightstand. It’s red. It’s got a little smiley face sticker next to it, and Danny thinks he recognizes the style from one of his nurse’s bestickered name tags. Belle is probably a direct cognate for bell. He’ll be able to get everyone to come up here if he needs help.

…Okay, that’s kind of nice. To have personal space. He hasn’t had that since… Danny’s eyes squint as he thinks; he rubs an eye. Wait, when had he been squatting under a conference table? Was that a real memory??

Diana is very tall, even in the little space, but when she ducks her head, the gesture makes her a little smaller, a little more manageable for Danny’s lower-than-usual-gaze. Now that he can see her expression, she looks soft, and even uncertain, even though she looks stone and strong on the television when she goes out to fight. “Do you like it?” she asks.

Danny fidgets.

He—does. He likes it a lot. The room doesn’t have any windows, but if Danny moved all his things in here, got used to being able to come and go, and people coming in and out…this space could be just another space. It’s quieter than the medical ward. More peaceful.

…The room is utterly devoid of other people.

(Danny thinks of The Box. Danny thinks of being in The Box.)

(Danny doesn’t like remembering The Box.)

“I am scared,” Danny admits to his twitching thumbs, his fingers itching for a fidget toy or one of his physical therapy tools. Diana’s face immediately drops.

“Why are you scared?”

I’ll be alone Danny wants to say, but he doesn’t know the word for alone and he struggled with phrasing. “No…people here.”

“That is triewe. You would have more dīegolnes here,” Diana agrees, and straightens out of her crouch. “Is that good, or bad?”

It isn’t good and it isn’t bad…? Danny isn’t sure how to phrase it. It’s neither. Being alone is just scary.

“You not hurt me,” Danny tries, knowing he’s missing some connecting word in the middle. He ignores how Diana comes back to kneel beside him, because if he looks at her, he won’t say anything. “Do not.”

“No,” Diana says, from beside and below him, gentle, careful. “We do not.”

No. They don’t. Danny swallows. “Bad…hurt me.” He doesn’t know the word for Earth or planet or even downstairs, so he just meekly points downwards.

Diana stills. It’s like watching Vlad’s Maddie cat spot a bird to hunt down. Danny tries not to feel pinned. “On eorþegearde?” she asks, still light, still gentle. Danny can hear a shadow of steel, though, and he counts himself lucky that she’s never treated him like an enemy. Danny quickly nods. His eyes squeeze shut.

“Who?” Diana asks feather-light.

Danny doesn’t want to tell them what he is. Admitting the name of the agency hunting him itself would be given in.

…But maybe if he doesn’t say the name…and they...and they promised they'd help hide him...

He wants to be right. Danny wants to be right that they're nice, and that they want to help him. Danny wants to be right that they want to protect him. As long as he never, nevernotevernever tells them he's a ghost...

Maybe someone will help him. This time.

“Bad,” Danny repeats, because he genuinely has no idea how to translate?? “Wants…hurts me? For…” WHAT WORDS DOES HE KNOW? Danny gives up and just draws a y-shaped autopsy incision on his chest. It goes down from his collarbones to his belly button.

Diana watches. Her eyes are sharp.

“Do you feel safe with the staff dunstæger in medical?” Diana is quick on the ball with the question and Danny nods quickly—he’s never alone there, and no one’s ever hurt him, and people whose job it is to help people are always coming in and out, and Medical helps them too.

“Good,” Danny whispers. “Talk…talks to me.”

“Ealne weg,” Diana affirms firmly. Whatever that means. “We will cepa you safe.”

You safe and we is all Danny needs to hear. He could probably cry by himself, but Danny wants the comfort anyway; Diana lets Danny take her hands into his, and he lets tears fall into someone else’s grip instead of his own.

*

Bruce is halfway to the monitor room before he feels himself be picked up from underneath the armpits.

Usually finding himself at inappropriate heights involves horseplay from Clark. No one else would be so bold as to actually put their hands on him within the professional setting of the Watchtower—and Bruce has worked very, very hard on maintaining a reputation that keeps the handsier of his fellows at bay.

The culprit is not Clark this time. Bruce finds himself looking downward at Diana’s tearstained face, fury and resignation warring in her expression.

Bruce is careful not to sigh. “Wonder Woman. What is the matter?”

“Someone,” Diana grits out, voice carefully modulated to cut out her own pain, “Hurt my charge.”

On the one hand, the situation with their patient is exactly as Bruce had expected. The circumstance is tragic. The circumstance was predictable.

On the other, Diana's new upset means that Bruce now has more information to work with than ever before.

Bruce can work with this.

“Tell me everything.” Bruce’s voice is just as firm—even held midair like a cat. “I will help you in every way I can.”

[iluumey]

things i love about the misfits and magic 2 trailer

MORE AABRIA DMING

continuing the DM starts with one elemental word bit

4/4 WBN CREW :) (+ danielle radford!!)

MORE AABRIA DOME INNOVATIONS

there's a talking tree stump?????? there's a projection and then it TALKS?????

there's actual wind or smoke in the dome?????

a ROTATING PLANET DIAGRAM IN THE MIDDLE

colourful lighting :D

PROPS!!!!

immaculate outfits and makeup

seeing how a mismag season would be after d20 as a whole has improved so much

everyone screaming HI MAGICAL MISFITS

also everything else. just in general forever

[desaturate-worlds]

kiss me on the mouth and love me like a sailor.

logan was desperate for the relief of his mouth pressed to wade’s. he needed it, needed to put his feelings into an action. needed wade to do the same, to envelope logan in himself. he had spent years he couldn’t count feeling bitter, alone, guilty. he felt like a monster.

that is, until he found wade. or, more accurately, until wade found him. he was washed in the glow of the other man, felt his love surround him in ways he didn’t know possible. his grief untangled itself from the constricting hold on his heart and spread throughout him, and wade took as much of it from him as he could.

he had never had someone to share the load with, someone who would listen and care and hold him up when he was falling apart. he wanted to worship the other man, it was what logan imagined religion was for other people. he was addicted to the warmth that flooded his body when wade was in the room. would listen to his incessant rambling as if he was delivering a sermon.

the two were sitting very close to one another, on the living room floor. wade had one leg folded under himself, the other knee pulled up towards his chest as he turned to look at logan. logan was sitting with his legs criss-crossed, but they started to unfold as he leaned towards wade. the only light in the room was the glow of the television, whatever nic cage movie they had been watching was forgotten as they talked quietly to each other.

it was nights like these that felt holy to logan. sacred. like they were the only two people in the world awake right now. his right leg pressed into wade’s left thigh, and the point of contact felt like deliverance.

when logan pushed himself a few more inches forward, his lips just a breath away from wade’s, he saw wade’s mouth pull into a soft smile. when their mouths met, it felt like a baptism. he felt saved.

the two men (though logan felt the word man devalued what wade was to him, deity felt more accurate) folded into one another before wade started leaning backwards, pulling logan down with him. their noses banged into each other with the movement and the two pulled apart to laugh quietly together. logan couldn’t school his smile into anything other than what it was: pure joy. wade’s eyes shone with affection, and the wolverine felt his smile widen further at the sight.

he hid his face in the other man’s neck, nuzzling into his skin, allowing himself to be swallowed in his scent. this was salvation, here on the living room floor of their shitty apartment in the middle of the night. if this was eternity, logan understood why people dedicated their lives to their religions - he would do anything to keep this forever.

and the best part of it all was that he could keep it forever. dripping in wade’s favor, this was his heaven.

i don’t believe in god, but i believe that you’re my savior.

[choccy-milky]

Finally had time to catch up on the raven and the snake. I am just in awe of everything.

Also, I kinda like Clora hanging out with Garreth and Leander. (don't kill me 🤐)

aw thank you!!🥹💖💖im happy to hear it! and NO i wont kill you, you are so right. the garreth/leander/clora hangout was my fav part of the chapter and also the most fun part to write, and it gave me an appreciation for the leander and garreth dynamic, which is amazing

i now headcanon their relationship like brothers LMAO, garreth constantly badgering leander and getting on his nerves, while leander is just exasperated in dealing with him (BUT IN A FRIENDLY WAY) theyre like characters in a sitcom tbh BAHAHA (and to anyone wondering, im gonna TRY to have the next chap up within the first week of feb!🙏 ive just been busy with the dark relic comic + work + and now i feel a bit under the weather. ive been sleeping almost nonstop for the past 2 days LOL oop)

[nanamis-bigtie]

sukuna and yuji are WHAT

[apollos-olives]

i see many people trying to bring up hamas as some kind of scapegoat and distract from the issue when palestine and palestinians' issues are mentioned so if it's okay i would just like to ask how you deal with people saying "but hamas is bad!!!!" or "but don't you condemn hamas and their october 7 atrocitics????" so I can know how to deal with it if I come across a zionist, thank you

i usually block them or ignore them. debating with fascists is useless. but if you really want to know what i do, i personally look into un resolutions that actually support the existence of hamas. un resolution 37/43 in particular, along with understanding the history of resolutions 181 and 242. it is completely justifiable, especially under UN law, to have the right to self determination and taking up arms to fight against an occupying force. also, when they say hamas is a terrorist group, ask them "to who?". because majority of the world does not consider them that way. only the western countries such as the US and canada consider hamas a "terrorist group", and those countries are the ones commiting genocide against palestinians right now. ask the rest of the world about hamas and none of them will say they are terrorists, simply a resistance group. and if the zionist insists that israel is not an occupying force so hamas shouldn't exist, simply bring up examples of some of the fathers of zionism, who very clearly said that zionism is a colonial occupational government.

in the end u just gotta do your research 🤷‍♂️ most zionists who like to argue are ones who are expecting you not to know the history, so they can lie and twist what really happened. if you learn about the history and what happened and why, you'll have a good grasp of how to deal with zionists and their lies.

[lazymonth]

They don’t give him a voice so I need to draw this

[marragurl]

Not the first to say it, but damn can’t believe Galladay really went from toxic yaoi to doomed tragic yaoi.

Alright fellow Galladay trash, where’s the modern AU fix-it fics?

I need to see Gallagher single dad with Misha plus their dog/cat Sleepie falling for entertainment company CEO Sunday. Don’t ask me how they met, fuck it, throw in bodyguard AU Gallagher who works part-time at a bar, boom there that’s how they meet, idk I’m making this up on 3 hours of sleep.

You’ve heard of slow burns, now get ready for Galladay blaze it.

They’re speedrunning the relationship from hate -> annoyance -> mild disgruntlement -> weirdly vibing -> ok wow never knew I needed that in my life -> Sunday is way too ok with spoiling Misha -> ok so we got married -> alright we’re dismantling the government now -> Sunday went to jail for 5 minutes for attempting “peaceful” world domination, don’t worry we (Gallagher) forgave him -> Sunday’s stepping down as CEO to run a coffeeshop idk look someone get him some therapy -> Robin is president now while she still goes on tours -> Misha won an engineering competition while this was all going on

Bottom line: Robin is out living her best life while Sunday is in the back somehow having the most insane week of his life. I have no other notes for her here except that she is happy, and successful, and is Sunday’s last remaining brain cell. She and Misha are having some fun Aunt/Nephew bonding times while Galladay are accidentally-on-purpose committing multiple war crimes.

No, we don’t have time to unpack 2.2 and all its trauma, we cope with modern AU :)

[kindaasrikal]

Lloyd but it’s just him calling his dad a centipede.

Lloyd was definitely one of those kids who loved insects. Even the gross and slimy ones.

Zane screamed in terror when he opened his arm hatch just to see a large, poisonous spider crawl out. He forgot he ain’t human.

[sergle]

I feel you, its so bad 😭, I had to go on a functioning adult human schedule for school and good god, out the house by 7am... bad bitches are not built for that..

WE REALLY ARE... and man, I can brute force myself into any schedule if there are things that HAVE to be done at certain times (like school, like you said) but it absolutely never feels "right". it feels like waking up at 3am to go to the airport type of shit. and it is truly so annoying... to get hit with the "that's a Normal schedule, you need to Fix your schedule" okay. alright. but let me hit you with this one. is it "normal" or is it just conducive to a 8 - 5. because no matter what my sleep schedule is like, or how locked in I am, I'm more clear headed at night + more productive and energetic. and no matter what, I'm tired during the day, especially the brightest times of day when the sun is allegedly supposed to be signaling my brain to be awake and alert. and it doesn't matter how much sleep I got.

[cake-chad]

Something something Gideon always inevitably wakes up with Kremy on or curled up next to him because being cold-blooded he seeks out the literal furnace sleeping next to him every night.

Frost is usually nearby too, but only if they're sleeping outside and not in beds, he's not cold-blooded but he is a cat, of course he likes to be near a heater too.

And now that I think about it, Torbek would be there too, having gone through what he has and severly underweight, his circulation is terrible and despite having his own layer of fur, he just can't stay warm on his own, so he sleeps sandwiched between Gideon and Hootsie

Just. A whole cuddle puddle of all of them, Gricko curls up next to Hootsie, Twig sleeps under Gideons arm, and when Pigtunias around she acts as a pillow for him

I love cuddle puddles and I love characters who naturally make everyone more comfortable to sleep around them 😭😭

[frogayyyy]

we've had fireworks every single night this week. then it'll be halloween and then bonfire night. :/

[h0ney-bunchez]

adachi loves to troll but can't handle being on the receiving end of tomfoolery smh

[secretarysong]

thinking about this right now