#so this is my take on how they got there

[eloquentornot]

At first, it had seemed clear exactly how long they would be in this world. 24 hours, meaning 72 days. Then they discovered the losses and gains of death and killing. And then, after nine days, the timers froze. The quickest to panic soon lashed out, trying to test whether or not the stopped clocks would still change after a kill, only to find that it was no longer possible to deal or take any damage at all. This only lasted one day, and it soon became clear that every tenth day was a day of rest, after which another Boogeyman would be chosen. So, a total of 80 days, if only there could have been no deaths.

It was during one such day of rest that BigB found Pearl, unmoving, eyes wide, laying sprawled flat on her bed, muttering over and over:

"Always watching always watching always watching…"

"Pearl? Are you okay?"

But she did not answer, nor seem to notice him at all. She continued muttering, and as he cautiously approached her, he saw a glint of purple in her eyes. Closer, and he saw shining shapes in the purple. Closer, and the shapes were rectangular, arranged in such a way that-

He recognised that symbol. It had been so long, but… Flashes of more recent memories came to him, and he pushed them away on instinct.

"Nah, you know what? Forget it, I don't wanna know. You do what you gotta do, Pearl, just… wake up by tomorrow morning. Please?"

Shaking his head nervously, he ran away, spending the rest of the day at his old frog base. He didn't tell them what he'd seen. He was already forgetting it.

~~~~~

Coincidentally, on that same day of rest, Cleo found herself staring at the mirror, unable to read her own expression. She knew she felt a deep, boiling rage, but her face seemed more like one of… longing? She was not yet red, and Scar had seemed perfectly amiable at breakfast, his own bloodlust seemingly stayed along with the march of time. The march of time. Stopped. She scoffed. It should have felt like a blessing, and yet… there were no days she found herself more on edge than those in which nothing at all happened. That clock, the ever ticking, looming threat, somehow judging her more harshly than ever when it paused, it had no need to pause for breath, it resented them for these periods, she was sure of it. The days that didn't matter, the days unspoken of in the tales to come, the days all too necessary for the wellbeing of the very warriors who were here to entertain…

She clenched the cobblestone sink harder, leaned closer into the mirror. The blood she'd applied as makeup weeks ago was still fresh. She begged wordlessly for something. A reminder, perhaps. Of what? It didn't matter, as soon as she thought about the concept of memory itself she remembered Etho's smug face, Bdubs taking his side, their family doomed to fall apart before it was even established! She snarled, but then flinched back at the sight of her own ferocious reflection, then was ashamed. All too good at threats, no good at following up. She needed help. She needed help.

~~~~~

Code name: Lady Shadow Location: hiding spot 2348 Mission: Stay hidden no matter what! (I mean it, Lizzie. Even if you hear his voice. If it's really him, he'll know the password. We'll get him out as soon as possible, I promise.)

~~~~~

The Time Witch closed her eyes in frustration. Technically she wasn't the only one aware of the multiverse, but she was the only one who was never, ever allowed to completely forget. The others could discover and/or remember the truth whenever they wanted, or rather, whenever she realised they would want to. Someone had to at least mostly keep track of it all, didn't they? A link was sent out for two of them. Not full awareness, just… enough information that they would work out what to do. Or something. Technically she was in control of the entire exchange. But if she never said anything… One of them saw her, and sent appropriately formal thanks. The other was already grasping at straws anyway. It didn't matter. This was something they'd done enough times already. Shh.

~~~~~

"Do-dodo-dodoooo… always watching, teehee!" Pearl skipped around without a care, dreamlike and wonderful. Her old friends had asked her to help them find someone, someone who had gone missing! "Lizzie, where aare youu?" she called loudly.

"Pearl?" said a distant, familiar voice. "Oops," it continued, and then was silent.

"Oh, there you are!" By moonlight, she saw, and as fast as a blink, she was there. "Hey, Lizzie, how's it going?"

"Erm… nothing! Nobody's here! I'm… throwing my voice, haha!"

"Okay, so you don't mind if I just boop down into this bush here… Found you!"

Lizzie screamed as she was dragged from her hiding spot by countless shimmering hands, forced to stare into alien eyes…

"You're not Pearl!"

"What do you mean, Lizzie? Of course I am! Where have you been lately, huh? We're having so much fun this season, don't you want to come back?"

"No!! Listen to yourself, Pearl, this isn't like you! That place is awful, they're just using you! Please, let me go! I just want to see my husband again!"

"Aw, well he's still there, isn't he? I'll take you right to him, come on!"

"NO!!!" As Lizzie shouted it, so did another. A white shadow snaked across the soundscape, and the dream very nearly shattered, giving Pearl a headache!

"Oi! What was that for?!" As her vision cleared, she realised she had lost her grip on Lizzie, who was now racing away, holding the hand of something unseen…

She gave chase, reaching out further with every blink even as reality itself seemed to melt away, and at the last second grabbed something…

There was a terrible tearing sound, and there was a scream of agony as all perception was numbed by a force that overwhelmed every sense!

The dream was stable, the world restored. LDShadowLady stood unmoving, alone, her eyes blank, her ears twitching. Pearl and Lizzie stared, confused.

"You have a choice," said LDShadowLady, in another voice. "This body will not return to the games. Either restore your friend's soul to it and allow her freedom, or she will take your place, and you will see from the outside what you have become."

"Oh, you mean I get to go full Watcher for a session? See if Lizzie can pretend to be me? That sounds like a blast, thanks!"

"Wait, what?" Lizzie and her body both said independently. "I didn't agree to this!" Lizzie added as the sight of her panicking face faded away…

"Now, Lizzie, there's nothing to worry about…" Pearl's voice gradually got more and more dreamlike��� "I'm not leaving, so we'll both be back to normal in about ten days. But while you're in there, you might get to see Joel! Probably shouldn't get your hopes up though, he can't know it's you, after all…"

"B-but! What do I do!? I have to… pretend to be you?!"

And then,

She

Woke

Up.

~~~~~

The sunlight shimmered and glittered over the elven palace, but its inhabitant was nowhere to be seen from the surface. Gem was deep underground, though not as deep as her dwarven neighbour, cheerfully arranging her freshest hermit heads in the dungeon! She honestly wasn't quite sure what to do with all the Etho heads.

Then, she heard stiff footsteps, and a subtle hiss, and without turning to face them, greeted her visitor.

"Your highness."

"Lady Gem," replied King Cleo, her crown's tiny emerald glinting in the light of soul flames. "I'm glad I found you here. I have a… certain request… to make of you. I think you'll enjoy it."

"Oh yeah?" Gem turned. Cleo held up a clock, and it seemed almost to be shining with enchantments…

"But we'll need to go somewhere special for this…"

At the remains of the Rift, the two redheads stood as the sun began to set. It was impossible to tell whether the Grumbot on the opposite wall was paying attention to them, but neither of them minded very much at that moment.

"Oh, this is so exciting!" Gem bounced around. "So, I'll be in your body? And all I have to do to make sure I come back is kill Etho?"

"Yes. And remember, Bdubs and Scar are my sons, and-"

"Scar is your favourite, yeah, you said. Oh, let me practice copying your accent… Hello, my name is Cleo..."

"Okay, looks like it's about time!"

The special clock floated upon the residual dimensional energies in the air and dissolved, and rings of gold, purple and green floated around Cleo's hand. Grinning, Gem took it, and in a flash of light…

She

Woke

Up.

[trekkiesagainstchastity]

It doesn't matter if that fic has been in your drafts for years and is now self-indulgent to the point of parody. If Steven Moffatt is allowed to do it professionally, you are allowed to do it for fun.

[lotus-pear]

he's so crazy we can't take him anywhere 😭🤣

[hinamie]

in spite of everything, I had fun <3

[starry-bi-sky]

I am loudly pushing the batdad agenda i am loudly pushing the— DPxDC Prompt

“Woah. You look like shit."

Granted, that’s probably not the first thing Danny should be saying to the guy that just bit the curb, but in his defense; he’s not running on 100% right now either.

The man -- tall, towering, and broader than Danny is tall -- whips around on his heel, black frayed cape flaring out impressively. Danny would've whistled in appreciation, but he takes the time instead to wipe the back of his hand across his mouth, smearing the blood running from his nose across his cheek.

"Sorry." He blinks widely, not even flinching as the man with the horns zeroes in on him. "That was rude of me. I have a really bad brain-to-mouth filter; Sam says its what always gets me into trouble."

And she's not wrong either, per say. His smart mouth is what landed him in this situation -- with blood blossom extract running through his veins and cannibalizing the ectoplasm in his bloodstream. Thanks Vlad.

The man grunts at him; a short, curt "hm" that shouldn't make Danny smile, but he does because he's somewhat delirious and probably concussed. The man keeps some kind of distance, sinking towards the shadows of Gotham's alleyway like he dares to melt right into it.

If it's supposed to scare Danny, it doesn't work. Danny's never been afraid of the dark; he's always been able to hide himself in it. He blinks slowly at the mass of shadows.

"You look hurt." The shadows says, blurring together around the edges. Danny squints, and licks his lips to get the blood dripping down his chin off. Ugh, he hates the taste of blood.

"I am." He says, "My godfather poisoned me. M'dying." The agony of the blood blossom eating him from the inside out looped back around to numbing a while ago, so all he feels is half-awake and dazed.

"Hey," Danny stumbles forward towards the man, a bloodied hand reaching out to him. "You-- you're a hero, right? You're not attacking me; which is more than I can say for most costumed people I've met." Maybe it's a poor bar to judge someone at, but he's already established that Danny's not in his right mind.

The man makes no change in expression, but Danny realizes blearily that it's hard to tell with the shadows on his face. He stays still long enough for Danny to latch onto the cape -- stretchy, but almost soft under his fingers.

He looks up blearily into the whites of the man's eyes. "Can you help me? I don't-- I don't wanna die." Again. He doesn't wanna die again. He blinks slow and lizard-like. "I mean- I'll probably get to see mom and dad again, but I told them I'd at least try and make it to adulthood."

There's a clatter down the street, and Danny's ghost sense chills up his spine and leaves a bitter, ashy taste in his mouth. He immediately knows who it belongs to even before the deceptively gentle; "Daniel?" echoes down the way.

"Daniel? Quit your games, badger, Gotham is dangerous for children."

Danny's mouth pulls back, and blood spills against his tongue. "Please." He rasps, and grabs onto the shadow's cape with both hands. "Please. He's going to kill me. Please--"

"Daniel? Is that you?"

His lips part, dragging in air to plead with the darkness again. He doesn't need to, the whites of his eyes narrow, and the cape whirls around him before Danny can blink. Soon swaddled in shadows, the Night lifts him up, and steals him away.

[turtleblogatlast]

Leo learns something about himself 🏳️‍⚧️

Based roughly on this old post.

Bonus:

[Leo is taking the fact that he was born biologically female simultaneously very well and also not so well but overall he’s mostly coping with the fact that it was Draxum that just essentially gave him the turtle equivalent of ‘The Talk’.]

[anna-scribbles]

last one i promise(<—lie)

[welcometogrouchland]

[ID in ALT] I've made posts before about Talia/Dick co-parenting Damian moments (will never happen but let me dream) and this came to me in a vision. Took me ages to finish for some reason 😭 and then even longer to post

[oh-gh0st]

i heart these rivals so much. maybe they'll kill each other. maybe they'll kiss. maybe they'll make ou

[lazylittledragon]

ok someone please correct me if i'm wrong but am i weird for thinking those 'audiobooks don't count as reading' posts are ableist as fuck????

[lucabyte]

On autonomy, and what it means to be Obliged to Help.

Bonus:

[alicenpai]

princess tutu: die jahreszeiten 🌸

kind of a companion piece to my 2022 ptutu drawing | it's on inprnt

this print was at anime north; next con is otakuthon!

oops so my hand slipped and i made another princess tutu drawing. i admittedly don't watch that much anime so my catalogue of work is gonna be the same 5 animes LMAO. what can i say, i love "dark" fairy tales, and i've been really enjoying the more fine art approach to a lot of my drawings as of late (and the watercolour brush i've been using has been so perfect for that...!)

as my first princess tutu drawing is now 2 years old, there are some areas i've grown to have ... qualms with... although both drawings as a whole are pretty much exactly what i envisioned, and that's always satisfying!

both of these were drawn in roughly a week's time (yes really...) for con crunch period (and i went back to this drawing after the con to touch up some areas that were a bit rough!). i wanted a different approach to this new pt drawing, with the focus on the line work, rather than on colours and lighting in the 2022 drawing.

this drawing had 2 goals: to continue the style i adopted in my witch hat atelier "lantern bearers" drawing (which i promise i'll post in full soon as soon as all of the zine artists get their go-ahead to post their pieces!), and to emulate the art nouveau movement's heavy emphasis on line work, albeit not a 1:1 style replication of course.

the seasons also aren't a 1:1 representation, as i didn't necessarily pick flowers or colours that are most strongly associated with the season (e.g. summer being a dark tone is a bold choice?). but it's kinda whatever, as i said before i drew this in a week, there may be more appropriate flowers with better meanings. i couldn't spend too too much time drafting and researching.

FLOWER SYMBOLISM:

- spring: apple blossoms, tulips - the apple blossom is a quintessential spring flower, and thus symbolize the arrival of spring. spring is a season of change, which ahiru/princess tutu is a force of, instigating change in her friends and unravelling the story around her. the flowers below her are tulips, and there are many meanings to tulips depending on the colour, due to their ubiquitous nature. i narrowed on one, and intended for them to symbolize happiness. princess tutu's pose is one in which that is open, inviting, and warm - reflecting her nurturing nature in the series, and her willingness to help others achieve happiness.

- summer: deadly nightshade flower, yellow rose - i chose for rue/princess kraehe to symbolize a fiery summer's night instead of the typical dazzling heat of a summer's day, a rather bold and unusual choice. the warmth of sunshine didn't quite fit, as the character is quite dramatic and passionate, with her intentions often hidden in shadow. next, the deadly nightshade - atropa belladonna - has a lot of mythological associations, a lot to do with poisoning, as the flower is toxic. the flowers bloom at night (another reason why i picked a nighttime backdrop for "summer") and also outwardly match rue's dark design scheme, as the cherry on top. yellow roses, at the bottom of her frame, are the archetypal flower depicting jealousy (as with many yellow flowers are), and at one point in the story, rue only wished for her own happiness at the misfortune of others.

- autumn: douglas fir needles, orange calla lily - autumn is another season of change - although much more tumultuous, as this season is traditionally taken to prepare for a long winter ahead - fitting for fakir as the role of the storyteller. the douglas fir is not a flower of course, but is a tree - with many different parts of this tree offering many benefits in advance of the winter season. i wanted the versatile nature of the douglas fir to reflect on fakir's dependable personality. next up, the calla lily is a flower with a dual meaning - on one hand you have life, on the other you have death. a storyteller quite literally can grant both at the tip of their fingers.

- winter: birch tree, snowdrop - winter is a rather still and unchanging season, a lull in the passage of time. this symbolizes mytho's passive nature at the start of the series, especially with his doleful pose here, as if almost in hibernation. to contrast, mytho is perched on the branches of a birch tree, which means new beginnings and renewal - as mytho is one of the characters that undergo the most change throughout the series (i'd argue the most?), regaining pieces of his heart. under mytho's frame is the snowdrop flower - and if you've read my witch hat atelier: seasons piece symbolisms, one of the snowdrop's meanings is rebirth, with connotations to the bible, bringing hope, when all had forsaken eve. the snowdrop is one of the first flowers to bloom even when the snow has not yet fully melted, further echoing mytho as an analogy for rebirth.

[hinamie]

alongside someone like you

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Archery Nemesis.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[vintrage]

fire cannot kill a dragon BITCH

[carebeardean]

Charles has always left Edwin little notes slipped between the pages of his favorite books, in his science equipment, places he knows Edwin loves. Just silly things—post its that say “hi Edwin :)”. doodles of Edwin with his nose stuck in a book. reminders to stock up on wolfsbane. but.

Then, post canon, Edwin tentatively starts dating people. And it’s ridiculous, because Edwin’s right there, all the time, but Charles..misses him a bit. And his heads a mess, and he can’t sort out what the hell he’s feeling most of the time, and whenever he tries to say any of it out loud it comes out rubbish.

So. He writes down some of the shit he can’t say right, and because he’s a coward, hides them so he doesn’t have to see Edwin’s face when he reads them.

then Edwin starts writing back.

Neat lilac blue little envelopes appear in Charles coat pockets. In his bag. Once, in his shoe? Some nights, Edwin will clear his throat and mention something from a letter, offhand, like they’re just picking up conversation, and Charles can pretend they are. That they always have talked about the basement, the belt, the nameless fear that chokes him every time Edwin walks out the door with someone else on his arm.

Sometimes he can’t. The words get stuck in his throat. Edwin’s not mad, he’s maddeningly, stubbornly kind about it, which is worse.

Some nights they trade. A secret for a secret. Charles learns about the novels Edwin used to hide under his mattress, about all the lonely years before Charles got there. About Simon.

Meanwhile, Edwin is losing his mind, because Charles has accidentally stumbled onto what was a fucking courting ritual in his time. Love letters were something engaged couples treasured for years, kept and reread over and over. (Edwin does. keep them in a special box, will take one out and trace the words, tuck it in his breast pocket for courage).

Edwin would rather have to reattach a limb again than lose Charles trust, all the dark and beautiful things he shares with Edwin only. He knows—knows Charles doesn’t mean to make him fall more in love with him.