#ive been missing everyone and posting here

[pollutionbylimpbizkit]

coming back from the dead to say that wes is still my baby girlie and no sex is still the best song of the century. maybe of all times even. yeah

[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!"

[cator99]

I always get detained at da border because PROFUNC never ended but basically I'm like if a targeted individual didn't even care

[aquariumlamp]

ok shivrye

[pikkish]

ranger but he has to scavenge from enemies in nightmare hell dimension to replace his own armor as it starts to fall apart

[themyscirah]

Wait omg..... Jessica Cruz probably did rifle... my specialized sports knowledge coming in CLUTCH

Okay so I barely practiced and made it to regionals like once so im NOT the expert here but uh headcanoning that Jess did air rifle when she was a teen. Like idk if it would be as part of a team like with a high school (what I'm familiar with) vs like an individual thing vs like a travel/competitive team (it depends on the sitch in her area growing up) but she definitely went to some national matches (probably including JOs/JO quals like i think she was GOOD). I think she probably would have quit competitively following a bad shot at nationals (relatable) along with anxiety about competition (ALSO relatable) but still kept up with shooting casually for fun and relaxation and to hang out with friends etc.

She definitely would have shot smallbore competitively too but I never did that bc I was lazy so idk to much abt it competitively

[bunnyboy-juice]

GRAAAAAAAH MISREPRESENTING DATA DOES NOTHING FOR ANYONE EXCEPT FEED TROLLS WHO ARE TRYIGN TO TAKE OYU IN BAD FAITH ANYWAY OH MY GD

[vraska-theunseen]

aughhhh. aughhhhhjhhhh

[adhdphilosopher]

im so full of anger every day that it makes it hard to function. what do i do

[mcdbutgay]

hey guys

[taegularities]

i miss the old tumblr so much

[todayisafridaynight]

sat here thinking of the ichigang playing mario party and i was like 'i should make a tierlist of how rgg characters play mario party' but wouldnt you know it my brain is huge

[pepprs]

misery despair suffering etc etc

[oyasleepy]

mm . mmmm. social media

[waywardsalt]

thinking abt linebeck’s coat. something very alluring about it for some reason. so im just gonna ramble about it here instead of in the tags for once

you can probably start a fight between the people who think it’s a coat and people who think it’s a jacket but i think it’s a coat moving on

the character designs are interesting to look at due to the proportions and art style so it is hard to imagine how long his coat would be but i think it would go down to a bit above ankles because i think that’s good. it’s a bit more dramatic a bit more impressive(?) that way and would probably lead to problems tbh

based on some of the official art i imagine that the stripe at the bottom might’ve been a late addition since it’s missing in the bit of official art most used to represent linebeck. tbh linebeck is inconsistent in very tiny ways in the official art but that’s mostly if you’re gonna be nit-picky or bored enough to notice

his coat is so good it’s simple but very recognizable and stands out among the other character designs in ph and its just. yknow good character design

its also surprisingly good for headcanons and stuff and because i mostly take a lot of canon as suggestion i have a good handful of headcanons tagged specifically onto his coat (one of which is the length of it ig)

i like to imagine that he made it himself. i’ve seen stuff where people write linebeck as being able to fix link’s tunic when it gets torn and i feel like the logical extreme of that is that he made his own coat. i think that adds a layer of. importance to it? it’s unique it’s solely linebeck’s it’s tied to him because he made it with his own hands and maybe it can represent something about him that way?

i like to imagine that in addition to the normal pockets one the outside he’s got a whole lot of little pockets on the inside of the coat, like so many pockets that he hides little trinkets or tools or things he steals in either to keep or to take back to his ship for whatever reason. some of the pockets have little flaps of whatever they’re called that can be secured in place with a small button to keep stuff in

he’s got like pencils and a compass and little notes and tiny figurines and cool rocks and feathers and all kinds of little things he thought was worth keeping around and due to that his coat is uncomfortable sometimes but if he knows for certain he’s going to be busy doing stuff he’ll empty out all of the pockets and only leave the important stuff so that it’s lighter and less uncomfortable. link finds his coat lying around at some point and is caught so badly off-guard by how surprisingly heavy it is with all of the bullshit he keeps in all of his pockets

i also imagine he values it a lot, maybe to the point of being really possessive and protective of it, not letting link touch it and if it gets torn or stained he shuts down and has to fix it before he can move on to anything else, and if he can’t fix it at the time it leave him kind of overwhelmed or upset until he can fix it. he has a lot stocked-up materials specifically for his coat to avoid a situation where he has to go for while with his coat damaged

backing away from headcanon territory, his coat is just a cool bit of character design and has just been lodged in my mind for a while. its cool and never brought up within the game (obviously) and i guess a last little closing thought is that in the cutscene where oshus teleports link above linebeck it kinda looks like his coat moves when he tries to catch link and i think that’s cool

[woahajimes]

i feel such an incredibly frustriating yearn