#my trama

[ive-been-timebombed]

PART THREE

💥Danny the avoider💥 and ✨Jason the Daddy issues✨

Jason decidedly hated Wickham. Both in the story and the blue dumbass. He had barely caught Dick when he decided to take an early leave and the damn floating asshat is just watching him like he was a the best thing he had seen in fucking years.

He needed to get Big Bird to the cave to check out whatever the fuck is happening to him. He needed to deal with the being and he didn’t know where to start. He can’t just shoot this problem and leave the problem could kill him with a snap of its fingers.. are they even fingers? The damn claws on it said otherwise..

“God damn it- The fuck are you even supposed to be?” Jason glared at the being pulled his brother up over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

“Ghost, like you.?” The being spoke it looked awkward and it was picking at its nails similar to a kid.

“Like me? The fuck you know about me. I ain’t know you and you don’t know me. Actually let’s keep it that way. Fuck off back to wherever the hell you came from-“ Jason adjusted his helmet onto his head and looked around for his guns and the Dickheads sticks. Ignoring that panicking face of the being.

______

“God damn it- The fuck are you even supposed to be?” His son- his baby.. he can’t believe that his baby is right in front of him.. the very same one that he held all night when they wouldn’t stop crying.. the very same one that had explosive poops almost every night. Okay he didn’t miss that part. Or the other.. but he missed when he could look at his baby in the bed sleeping as laugh at the small snores that reminded him of his father’s. Or even the smile the kid had whenever he got back from work and picked him up from the neighbors.. oh god.. he really fucked up.. he gave his child away because of how selfish he was.

Back on track- wait did his kid not know he was a ghost? Actually he couldn’t judge. He didn’t either.. kinda really just thought he gained meta powers and not died.

“Ghost, like you.?” Danny said to his kid he felt so damn awkward.. he knew he should be more confident- being the king god thing of basically all does that to one. Take Pariah Dark for example. He was ugly yet still had the confidence to speak like he was the toughest guy around. Good reasons too, at the time he was the toughest guy around. Ghost? Guy? Same thing. No it’s not..

“Like me? The fuck you know about me. I ain’t know you and you don’t know me. Actually let’s keep it that way. Fuck off back to wherever the hell you came from-“ His kid truly hadn’t had a clue what he- wait. No, no, no he can’t lose his kid again. He already lost the rest of his friends and family he can’t lose his kid. Sure he had the ghosts and Ellie but this was his kid! The same kid that he held for three hours straight the night before he had to give his child away. He couldn’t let go again he couldn’t- wouldn’t. He knows where he is now- his core! He almost forgot! He needs to do something about that-

“No!” Danny yelled a bit louder than he wanted. His kid looked over at him his face was covered by the helmet thing. Why was his kid wearing that? “I mean- Your core it’s malnourished. You stay like that any longer you’ll- uh.. I don’t know I didn’t pay that much attention to Frostbite. But you need help-“

“My core? That fuck is a core, also back the fuck up.” His baby- grown up baby.. he didn’t see his baby grow up- held up the gun he had found on the ground pointing it at Danny,

“Oh- sorry” Danny floated back a bit he didn’t even notice that he got closer, “Your core, it’s basically your soul, mind, and organ in a tiny ball. It’s malnourished because- your parent was horrible and didn’t get you your ectoplasm!”

Danny was a horrible parent wasn’t he? He horrible, horrendous, good for nothing parent. Oh.. he shouldn’t ruin his baby’s unlife anymore than he did. He should just fix his core make sure he is okay and leave. Is it getting hard to breathe or is that just him..? He could feel his core crying out to his baby’s core.. he couldn’t leave him again. He couldn’t but he had to. His baby had a life that wasn’t with him. He needed to respect that.. the lump in his throat didn’t go away.. in fact only got worse at the thought.

_________

“No!” The being yelled. It scared Jason. It was like his insides, his brain.. the pits wanted to go up to the being and hug it. Like it could fix all his problems with just a hug and a few words.. like he felt when he got those faint memories of his bio dad. He was told he was adopted or given away by his bio dad to his mom. His Ma explained that his dad, better than the Willis, His dad had wanted nothing more than to keep him. But he was in big trouble and made the decision to give him away for his safety. Lot of good that did. Sometimes he wondered what his life would be like if his dad didn’t give him away. Would he be happier? Would he have different siblings? Would he be in college and become a lit major? Or even an author? Would he have died..? Would his dad avenge him unlike Bruce.? Is his dad even alive..?

“I mean- Your core it’s malnourished. You stay like that any longer you’ll- uh.. I don’t know I didn’t pay that much attention to Frostbite. But you need help-“ The being continued, who the hell was Frostbite? Jason didn’t care enough to ask. He needed to not be near the thing that made him think so clearly.

“My core? That fuck is a core, also back the fuck up.” Jason almost relaxed his body with how close the being got. He needed to not be here. At all. Away.

“Oh- sorry” The being floated back even apologized, “Your core, it’s basically your soul, mind, and organ in a tiny ball. It’s malnourished because- your parent was horrible and didn’t get you your ectoplasm!”

“My parents were fucking awesome! My Ma was the best mother I could’ve asked for- Sure my adoptive dad was shitty as hell. But my Ma told me even my bio dad loved me like a life line. That he gave me up for my safety! Fuck even the only damn picture I had of my father he looked at baby me like a was the best thing in the world!” Jason snapped he knew he didn’t turn out like Dick or even fucking replacement, the picture perfect son but he knew his Ma and Dad loved him like they were supposed to. The only picture he had of his Dad was destroyed in the explosion. The picture was of his Dad, the somewhat skimpy black haired with white at the nape man, the blue eyed the was cold but looked at him with warmth, the man that had a scar on his lip and inhuman sharp teeth man holding a two or three year old Jason who was sleeping in his fathers lap. He loved that picture like it was the last bit of air on earth. He reminded him that he had someone out there that loved him out of the streets, when he was fighting with Bruce, when he was an idiot and got himself killed.. fuck.. he even tried to yell for him when he was laying on the cold concrete covered in his own blood after the Joker left him.

The being looked at him with wide eyes, it tilted his head and his mouth open a bit like he was gonna say something. That’s when Jason noticed it. The scar on the beings lip. The exact same scar that he used to look for on every man in Gotham when he was younger. The same scar that he looked at for years in the picture of his father. The same scar he wanted to give himself just to have something to remember him.

“Wait-“ Jason started his voice cracked, like a fucking teenager. Then the fucking man himself, Batman, broke through the window making Jason look at him then back over at the being in a panic only to see nothing but an empty room. Not even the summoning circle was there. The only evidence left was Wickham..

[gremliinsart]

Sorry I think I'm so funny (I am)

[fantasyinallforms]

Look, maybe it's my trama talking but when two characters are heatedly arguing and one of them flinches unessasarily causing the other to take a step back in shock and gently say,

"I would never hurt you."

Melts my brain. I will never not love that. NEVER. It's perfect.

[watermelonsverything]

"You worthless, weak, little, nothing-"

-King Morton Koopa

[dreamdropsystemarchive]

no one lives here.. no one important at the least....

[ethan-acfan]

Lighting an incense and drinking tea while reading a book in my room because it's what Malik would have wanted.

[sagau-my-beloved]

Death At The Hands Of A God

Warnings: general sagau, imposter au, light descriptions of violence/gore, you die/are killed (by Venti), angst

-

It seemed as if the rain was particularly heavy, almost unusually so as it fell in sheets, occasionally catching the light of the moon, making it look no different than strands of silver.

That should have been a sign, the rain, the fog, the agitation of the weather. Mondstadt hadn't faced a storm this bad since before their current Archon, even the winds of Dvalin paled in comparison.

Venti was so ignorant not to pick up on the clues laid out before him by his own nation as he trudged through heavy rain, his bow at the ready and a sinking feeling in his chest.

He would never say he disliked the rain, despite what unpleasant memories linger in the back of his mind from those times. But everything carried a harsher weight when was faced with his current task, one assigned to him by no other than his creator.

Venti stopped to rest a moment, leaning against a tree for partial coverage, though it did little to shield his already soaked clothes. He felt something heavy and unpleasant in his chest as he reflected on the situation, an unshakable sense of wrongness, one that clouded his mind and dulled his senses. You were what he was after, you who posed a threat to the divine order simply because of your face.

He thought back on his creators’ honeyed words, a sickeningly sweet tone that he had never heard them use before, not that they very commonly addressed him at all, which made this particular summons out of place, a mixture of excitement and worry bubbling in his chest as he walked through their temple. To kill someone impersonating them, that is what they ordered him, hinting at the possible consequences his nation may face if he didn't comply with the utmost enthusiasm, the threat of which rang particularly loud when faced with what they had done to other nations in fits of anger.

He knew deep within him that this wasn't remotely justified, that he might as well be punished alongside you if the crime was simply stealing a face. If only you chose to look like another human, or even an Archon, he would have taken your mimicry of him as a complementary. But alas. Those feelings were pushed down and covered by the vow he made to his nation, one born of nothing but love and a promise for a brighter future.

Venti had considered alternatives, confronting you with your motive, begging you to make yourself scarce, making his own judgement on your reasons and framing his response accordingly, but those were all fleeting thoughts, quickly pushed away as soon as they arose. He couldn't get attached, he couldn't afford to think of you as human, and he certainly couldn't afford it getting back to his creator that he failed them.

He had heard about your existence from other sources, apparently being so bold as to walk directly into Mondstadt. You weren't met with pitchforks and torches, his people were more civilized than that, but the hostility was as sharp as a knife. You had left of your own accord after having no luck obtaining food or a place to stay, he had only heard after the fact from gossipers drinking late into the night, the faces of which were forced into his mind as he once again thought of his creators’ threat.

Venti was pulled from his thoughts due to a subtle noise, one almost unnoticeable through the heavy onset of rain, but it was there. A branch and a pile of leaves, something big enough to break them, and no one in their right mind would be out in this weather, except...

He swallowed what little apprehension he’d not already buried, reverting his mindset to something it had been five hundred years ago with the quick draw of his bow. The Archon saw you in the distance, just as soaked as he was, clothes tattered and foreign, scared. A quick death was the least you deserved, one free from suffering, and maybe your next life would be more forgiving.

He aimed for your head, a clear shot even now, but it seemed the moonlight that glinting off his bow caught your attention as you quickly turned your body to face him in a defensive stance, eyes wide, fearful, as if you could see what was about to come to fruition.

Your mouth moved, only fragments of the noise it produced were carried to him, broken syllables and muffled notes the very wind urged him to listen to.

You had said his name.

Venti faltered before the arrow released, for the first time in centuries, its' path no longer as steady or sure as it had been.

It hit your throat.

Venti's legs were moving before he consciously realized, forcing his body to where you fell, as if collapsing in on yourself, until he could finally see you clearly, drenched in rain and golden liquid, mixing together indiscriminately as they soak into the ground below.

There was a feeling of shock, which developed in his throat first, spreading evenly throughout the rest of his body, as if it were in his bloodstream. He looked at your terrified expression, a pained and now lifeless one, holding only fragments of the fear you felt.

What had he done.

Venti felt himself fall to his knees, hands immediately going to where his arrow lay firmly lodged, feeling for a pulse in an act he knew to be worthless.

"No. No, n-no— no. Please!" His voice cracked as his mind caught up with what his eyes were forcing him to behold.

You were the divine creator, Teyvat's one true God, and he had—

No. He couldn't even think it, the word that was on the tip of his mind carried nothing but pain, anguish and insufferable heartache, the likes of which he hadn't felt, well since...

Without thinking, Venti wrapped his arms around you, laid his head on your stomach, forced his eyes closed, and prayed. For your return, for forgiveness, and if not for any of that, then simply for a form of retribution.

He hadn't realized he'd started crying, tears and rain alike falling from his face onto your form, pooling at his eyes until the world around him became harder and harder to see.

The position you both rested in was not unlike that day long ago, forever etched in his memory and resurfaced through reflections.

Was this simple his fate? To find himself holding in his arms the corpse of someone he loved so dearly, over and over again. Was it written in his very being that all good things would be torn violently from him with little care to how it left him shattered, scrambling for the pieces of what little piece of mind he had left.

There was no coming back from this, no form of atonement. He could feel the shackles encasing his wrists, invisibly tying him to this moment, to where you had stood alive moments prior. His days of living freely died with you, forever encased in the space between where your souls had briefly met, and it was no more than he deserved.

It was only a moment later that your body was gone, dissolved into the stardust it was born from, slipping through his arms and carried by the wind that no longer obeyed him. That didn't stop him from reaching desperately, gasping and clawing at the air for what remained, heart in his throat as he begged for mercy, for anything but you depriving him of your vessel even after death.

You couldn't really be gone, not fully, you who so powerfully morphed this world from willpower alone, who disappeared for an infinite stretch of time only to descend again. Even if your vessel may have been no stronger than human, your soul was as old and powerful as existence itself, it would linger on in whatever form it had existed before, watching, waiting.

He would be ready for when you decided to give this world a second chance, he would wait an eternity and more to see your face again and repent a thousand times over, bear any hardships in the time between only to fall to his knees in complete acceptance at whatever you deem an acceptable punishment when faced with your light again.

But first...

It seemed as if there was a loose end to tie up, a deceiver bearing the ultimate sin, one much more deserving of his arrow, and one that would suffer a fate worse than death in your name.

Venti roughly brushed the tears from his face, eyes darkening as he shakily pulled himself from his knees, feeling as if his body couldn't decide between flying or collapsing.

His ‘creator’ would soon face all the fear and pain that was forced upon you, the wrath of a god who had lost everything for the second time, a goal he planned to pursue till his dying breath.

[that-assassin-ninja-stuff]

Me not reading the latest and relating more and more to this man 😭

Trauma and re-learning trust; hurts, cuts you deep.

[crayonkitten]

Puppet Trinity

[theghostoficarus]

SCREAMING!!! I'm so proud of myself yall!!!

This is art of my original characters from my comic Phantom Flames. If you have any questions TELL ME I BEG I WANT TO YAP!!!!

Anyways... Characters in order of appearance:

Scarlet- she/her| Charolette's older sister, bad bitch, gay as hell

Charlotte- she/they| otherwise known as Candlewick, poor sad little baby.

Mother- she/it| The sister's mom, raging alcoholic, anti-feminist, chain smoker.

Simon- he/him| The one driving with the hat. He's chill, lives on a farm, driving illegally, shhhh

Marco- he/they| Blind silly man who has Charlotte smitten, bandanna-wearing dude

Mo Shang- she/her| Girly with the buns, super hyperactive but we love her. She matches everyone's freak.

[turnin9pag3]

sigh.

i think im a james potter kinnie in the most shameful way possible because yes i relate to being social and having lots of friends but more than that i relate to feeling like you’re constantly doing either too much or not enough and people lose interest in me and i feel like shit because what did i fuck up but then i go and loose interest when i know its not that persons fault i just cant help myself but to hate everyone because i hate myself. and like james im too loud all the time so much so that when i finally decide to be quiet i have people shoving their concerns down my throat and i dont know how to appreciate it when all i want is to be left alone. lately ive been feeling like there something misplaced in me because all i want is to spend my last week of school with my friends and be happy and enjoy my time but all i can think about is i dont want to be here and i dont want to be touched and i dont want to see these people because these people keep talking and my head hurts and my eyes hurt and im feeling dizzy and none of this looks real anymore and im not sure what to do with myself anymore. and i would hate to hurt their feelings because its truly not their fault but like i said theres something wrong with me. i think im just a rotten soul and im fucked up in way unknown to most. as james would, i feel judged after everything i say and i feel ridiculed for every decision i make and i feel like they dont want to listen to me at all they just keep me around to have someone for themselves and a part of me knows thats not true but the larger part of me wont let me fully believe that. and i feel like james in the way i dont know how to do anything casually and i love with my entire soul but i hate with my entire soul too and when im in something im fully in. and its such a fault to have because i like people more than people like me all i just end up hurting myself because as much as i tell myself im not i think i still like that one guy from august and my miss my best friend when i cant call her that anymore and the girl ive known since 2nd grade is barley answering my texts and summer is coming i feel like everyone is going to forget about me and what if i forget about everyone and i dont want to be forgotten. and i feel like james because i feel overbearing when i ask to hang out with people and annoying. and i feel like im being made fun of every time i speak and i have to pretend that it doesnt bother me but it does. and im like james because all i want is someone to talk to and thatll listen to me but i know how hard it is to stay attentive when i talk because i talk so much about stuff no one cares about and i try to hide it but it hurts more than id like to admit because everyone cares about what they have to say and i sit and i listen but when i talk they leave the room or change the topic or turn up the music or outright tell me they dont care. joke or not it hurts. like james i spent most of my childhood being told im too loud or too intense or talk too much or too chaotic or too dramatic or talk too fast and like james i think no matter how much confidence i fein in my teen years ill never grow away from the 6 year old girl that everyone called a psycho because she had emotions too big that she didnt know how to deal with yet and they wernt her fault. it wasnt her fault she got her dads anger issues and tendencies to scream or her mothers ability to feel everything twice as strong as she should. and now im 15 and its still not my fault but ive suppressed it so far im not 100% sure how to feel that deeply anymore.

[autozer0]

This is a safe space to throw out crack ships rn right? Bc we’re all mentioning non-canon ships

C!Centross and Ulysses…

I would say hear me out but there’s not much to hear me out about…

I mean Connor said it himself that these to would unironically work well together…

And Centross dating one of the 2 people (the other is like probably Ic) that Ocie hate is a little funny

And like a kinda bartender x regular at the bar is like they’re dynamic and it’s silly…(kinda cafe-au but with spice)

If you wanna be basic about they’re ship name it could be like Ulytross or Centsses or something like that but consider something like glow-fish or soul fish or something like that

I probably thought about this more than I should have

[zagreusm]

Demaciados años despues y porfin puedo mostrarles oficialmente a Damian (He/They) una entidad espiritual que trabaja ayudando a dar el soplo de vida a los mortales.

Creide, medio tsundere por ratos, fresa y joto le hijueperra pero asi se le quiere 💜

[ithinkdogshouldvote2]

"Willy and Ron's dynamic. Willy and scary's dynamic."

What about Willy and Terry, huh? Terry was stuck in ravenloft with Willy for AWHILE why is no one exploring the evil fucked up peepaw dynamic???

[danidoesathing]

bitches cant be normal about fic writing they'll watch something silly and not meant to be taken seriously "hmmmm yes but have you thought about the horrific implications of living through such an event" and proceed to write the most fucked up shit you've ever read

[fex-the-infernal]

sketch of young fex

a sketch of fex in the start of the story. young nieve, fresh out of stone. he knows about 3 spells and has a gauntlet ready to punch people. hes plucky sassy and doesn't know much fear. and short hair