[ID: A colored, digital two page comic featuring Danny and Jazz from Danny Phantom. Danny wears a baggy hoodie over a shirt and jeans. Jazz wears a v-neck sweater and shorts.
Fentonworks, after curfew: Danny reaches for the doorknob to his bedroom, breathing out and gripping his shoulder.
"Where were you?" says Jazz, hands on her hips, making Danny jump. "Look, I know that Mom and Dad don't really care, but I do. You can trust me." She looks sad. "What's going on with you?"
"None of your business, Jazz." He looks irritated. He reaches for the doorknob again, muttering, "Just lemme sleep."
"Wait!" is written in all caps. Jazz reaches out, pulling at the hood of his jacket. Danny turns and raises his arm out of his hoodie, revealing an ectoplasmic injury. "Fuck off!" he yells.
Jazz pulls her hand away, startling backwards. Then, she looks sad as she says, "Oh, Danny…"
Fade out. They now stand in the Fentonworks bathroom, with Danny sitting on the toilet and Jazz hovering over him, cleaning a wound on his left shoulder. He's now in a binder and the original ectoplasmic wound has been treated. She scolds him and he grins nervously, curling in on himself. End ID.]
happy holidays @torscrawls !
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𝐚𝐦𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐚 . .
. . judging by how many times you fell for him, you probably had amnesia.
// tws ; blood !! slight swearing ; gn reader ; modern & high school au, hanahaki au
a/n: amnesia by boynextdoor is so good i love it sm i want to inject it into my veins
he was so ethereal, whether he was happy, sad, or pissed as fuck.
even as his face curled up into an ugly scowl or fell in despair or suddenly brightened with a subtle and soft smile, you couldn’t but find him absolutely gorgeous.
maybe that was why you were laying here on the ground now, pitifully hacking up pungent and bitter blue hydrangeas.
it was almost funny how the color of them were almost the same as sunday’s hair, just a little more blue than it.
it was also almost amusing how accurately they symbolized his response if you were to tell him your feelings; rejection.
your feelings were concealed within the hydrangeas too — regret and despair.
you sobbed as you heaved up the stupid blue flowers. they flopped onto the once clean floor ungracefully, leaving a trail of blood and mucus, of heartbreak and hopelessness.
maybe it would’ve been better if you had never laid your eyes on sunday in the first place.
—
as you saw sunday in school the next day, you felt yourself toppling head over heels for him all over again.
at this point you might as well have amnesia with how many times you’ve felt yourself falling in love with him again.
every time you saw his stupidly perfect face, his pretty wings, his fluffy grey-blue hair, you dug your grave deeper than it already was.
why did sunday have to be so fucking perfect, so fucking pretty, and so, so sweet?
—
it was dumb falling for someone you had barley talked to.
maybe if you pushed your shyness and anxiety aside you could’ve talked to him.
maybe you could’ve been acquaintances.
friends.
maybe even lovers.
but, alas, that was never going to happen.
you hated yourself so much — why couldn’t you just fucking talk to him? what the hell was wrong with you?
you sobbed, coughing out more of those wretched blue hydrangeas.
—
you were going to get the surgery.
it was useless dying over someone who didn’t even know you.
you could live without knowing him.
now you would get amnesia for real.
—
you woke up blearily, blinded by the extremely bright fluorescent lights of the hospital.
you did it.
you finally got the surgery.
you couldn’t remember what you got it done for, though.
—
after recovering, your parents saw fit for you to go back to school again.
you sat in your english class, waiting for your peers to fill up the empty room.
you watched people file in, chatter filling the room, bouncing off the walls.
and then you saw a face.
an extremely pretty face, paired with almost piercing yellow eyes and hair that reminded you of blue hydrangeas.
suddenly you started coughing. you brought your elbow to your mouth, muffling your coughs.
pulling away your face, a single blue petal drifted down to the ground, a little bit in front of you.
and then it was crushed by none other than sunday.
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Jon: If you need a vessel so bad why don't you just become-
Elias: Because I'm not scared of them.
Jon: ......
Elias: I don't need your body, Jon. I need your fear. 😈
Meanwhile, Elias the Gaslight King in earlier seasons: Jon you know I'd never let anything bad happen to you, I'm only trying to help. We need to save the world together, isn't that what we're trying to achieve? Oh Jon, Jon, Jon, bad things are only happening because you do not trust me. Trust me, and we can save everyone. Don't you believe me?
Then it went the exact opposite with Peter and Martin.💀😂💔
Peter: I've got the perfect plan to beat Elias. Can you do what it takes to become the hero?
Martin: I'm going to save the world?
Peter: Yes, and it will be you and you alone. Do you trust me?
Martin: I trust you.
That same season 💀
Peter: You played me! 😳😭 You've been lying to me this entire time.
Martin: You lied first 🙄 and I knew it the instant you told me I'd save the world. I can't save the world. I've never saved anything in my entire life. I'm not important enough to be the hero.
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