#surrounded by lovely things

[inkskinned]

something bad happened to you, and you died, and you came back wrong.

not wrong all the way. the little ways. you forget important dates, stopped going out with friends. it's harder to make you smile. you're apathetic towards things you used to love, afraid of places you used to go to cheer up. quieter. flinching. different.

you came back for love. you're still here for love. what pulled you back was a brightness so loud that even death couldn't outshout it. death heard the call and smiled at you and said okay. go home. somebody is waiting for you.

but you came back different. like lot's wife; you've turned into salt. you used to chirp through life in hops and skips; but now you lose skin just standing up. you have to move slower, skimming across this world without-touching-it. most things feel dull - until they're suddenly all-too-much. life, and being alive just rushes up and over you and you get hopelessly crushed.

you try to explain it to them: it is ugly, but this is what you are, now. the huge golden hoop of your halo now a little bronze ring. you are still watering your plants and wearing the same clothes. after all, you worked hard to come home. this life; so odd and off-color, now that you are wrong.

but they waited for you - it's just that they wanted the "you" that happened before this. the "you" that could sing in the show and hug people tight and look at a blade without breaking down to cry. the you with a smile in pictures. god, holyshit, it's like looking at a completely different person, isn't it. that other-you; the one they actually wanted.

you are the consolation prize. you are the body that forgot the ghost. you are the memory of the bad thing, and the death after; like you are wearing that memory as a banner. you are a fragment, an assembly. simulacrum. you don't make eye contact in mirrors, afraid the light will glance off and your true nature will flash back at you.

you hear them talk about it in their hushed, desperate whispers. sometimes they even admit it to your face; harsh and violent, acid thrown at christmas dinner. god, can you just fucking be normal again. you do not remember what normal is. you had to climb so far to get back here; you are far too exhausted. you want to open the glass door of your heart and show all the gears. can you help resolve whatever got messed up?

you try so, so hard. you came back for them. because you believed they would love you, even when you were so horribly broken. because you believed they would be patient. because you believed unconditional meant "without exception." you cannot do things the same way. you just get tired too quickly these days.

you want to put them on a couch and pour them the tea with hands that shake more than they remember. you want to line them up and draw them a map of where you have had to wander. you want to show every bruise in a backsplash; the little helpless ant of your soul carrying all that weight, over and over. you want to say: yes! it is different! but i did it for love!

you want to say: "i'm not the same, but i'm yours and i'm here. can that be enough?"

[shadebloopnik]

Rewatched the scenes and just noticed this.

Husk pointing a finger at Alastor, touching him, im pretty sure semi shoving him with rather disrespectful words, and all Alastor does at that point is giggle, amused that his "pet" is daring to talk back

Vs.

Mimzy, an old friend from even when he was alive, pointing at him, teasingly reminding him of exactly what kind of person he was.

And Alastor removing the finger off of him.

AND HE DOES THIS WHILE (tho he wouldn't admit it) TAKING HUSK'S ADVISE(after he terrorized the poor guy)

My MAN what is going on in ur head

[chyarui]

My poor broken commander, good soldiers follow orders indeed and you were a damn good soldier (even though you’re an asshole, i still love you 💔)

Firmly on the side that believes Fox was under orders from Palpatine to kill Fives. There’s no way any of the vod’e would kill their brothers unless they literally had no choice. He does what he can to honour every brother whose blood is on his hands, directly or indirectly, on the tattoos on his back.

[blue-jos10]

‘wow dr minyard how are you so calm and patient even with the insane ones?’

‘i’ve had practice.’

[nibeul]

uncle aaron in spiderverse fucks me up so badly because here is a man who has done terrible, unforgivable things, and he loves his nephew very much

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 197

“Guys look, I got us pet rocks!” 

“That’s nice- Danny, why are the rocks moving?” 

“Ectoplasm. Obviously. They eat bad emotions, isn’t that cool?!” 

“They aren’t going to get that big though, right? I mean, we’re moving to the countryside but still.”

“I mean, they shouldn’t? Dang, maybe I should have asked Dora more questions…” 

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

growing up with a perpetually anxious primary caregiver is such a mindfuck. that shit will rewire your nervous system

[deanofsam]

was just talking to an irl friend who used to be really active in spn back in 2014. she knows and respects my beliefs (wincest) as i respect hers (d*stiel) but i was laughingly telling her about all the samgirls posting about jared at ACL and she said “huh, weird i cant believe there are actually samgirls out there” and i stared at her…. frozen…. our experiences ….., could not be more different….. i am surrounded by samgirls …. they are all i know.., i think i probably exclusively follow samgirls…. what is going on over at d*stiel headquarters

[rookeryyy]

REINVENT

YOURSELF

tumblr HATES my 44.1mb image swag so it has SO MUCH COMPRESSION and downsizing here. :') peep the actual intended size & quality (or as good as i could get it exported)

post-return Q!Tubbo :] Tee hee.

un hamburgesa para tubbo (he lookied ungry)

[arcticclimes]

[surreal-duck]

es rarepair week 2024 day 1 | AU/future

lil ghostic au of mine!!! yuzuru and the rest of fine are long since trapped souls in an abandoned mansion of which rst come across while looking for shelter during a storm :] it doesnt um. particularly end well

[velvetwyrme]

that Echo Flower button up that Sans is wearing in one of your drawings would be real cool if it was to exist (unless it was made of polyester) as the design is well made.

Image for reference:

I'm glad you think it'd be cool!!! I also think it'd be really cool. I'd LOVE to make it real but AHH finding manufacturers for non polyester button ups has been driving me crazy egfjdbdk

But I mean... if people are interested, I'll see what I can do in the future 👀

[sysig]

Gift (Patreon)

[ghostr0tz]

Gradient/color/tooling testing with big thing to swing around. Kind of an add-on to this?

[phantom-0-writer]

I actually thought of this prompt like forever ago and i rly wanted to write a whole story for it but i couldn't think of a plot that would stick to it and make sense without adding too many outside elements and in my opinion over saturating the story. BUT i do have a bunch of scenes of danny and damian in my head about this also also some danny and other batfam members.

So anyways your order has been delivered...

original prompt: Gotham Academy's Mentorship Program

scene two: tim's arch nemesis

table of contents

-------------

scene 01: damian's not-so-very-bad day

“Father, you wanted to speak with me.” Damian said, trugging into his Father’s study late into the afternoon per Pennyworth’s behest. 

Father looked up from his work at Damian’s arrival, Drake gave him a look of annoyance that Damian returned with a sneer. “Damian.” Father greeted as he reached Father’s work station. “I spoke with your principal earlier today.” Damian huffed and crossed his arms in defiance at whatever accusation he was about to be handed, “Put your frown away, you're not in trouble.” Father chuckled lightly. 

Damian frowned. He was not a child, he did not need to be treated like one. 

“There’s a mentorship program at your school.” Father started, Damian raised an intrigued brow at him. 

Perhaps Father had succeeded in seeing his potential, “Well I suppose I wouldn’t mind mentoring one of the many underlings at the so-called academy.” Damian sighed, letting his arms fall to his side, as he looked up at his Father. 

Father blinked at him, processing what he had said, then glanced at Drake who looked like a fraying rope length away from bursting into laughter. “The mentorship program… it’s for you.” Father tried hesitantly. 

“Yes.” Damian nodded in understanding. 

There was an uncomfortable silence from Father.

“He means that you're the one getting mentored.” Drake laughed at him, shoulders shaking. 

Damian turned to Father. But the denial never came. “What!” Damian couldn’t help scream in outrage. “You want me to get mentored by some hillbilly civilian who can't tell a katana from a wakizashi?” He slammed his hands on Father’s table. 

Father looked at him with disapproval, but said nothing, not caring enough to discipline Damian. 

“Hillbilly civilian.” Drake croaked from the corner of the room, draping himself dramatically over one of the side sofas. 

“You’re to meet him first thing tomorrow when you get to school. Here’s his student profile, if you're interested.” Father handed him a singular paper. 

“Father I do not need-” 

“It’s already been arranged Damian, atleast give it a try.” Father said with a sigh, picking up his files again in a silent dismissal of Damian. 

The paper crumpled slightly as Damian stormed to his room.  

Daniel James Fenton. 

“Let’s see how long you last.” Damian eyed the picture of the smiling teen. 

---

“Have a good day at school Masters Tim, Thomas, and Damian.” Pennyworth bid, as they all got out of the car. 

“Later, Alfred.” Thomas waved at the butler as he drove off. 

They all walked in the same direction to enter their classrooms, when Drake stopped him in his path. “Ohoho, and where do you think you’re going Damian?” he asked cheekily.

“Tsk.” He was hoping to be able to make it to his class before the others noticed, then continue to evade the principal and other faculty if need be required. To be foiled so early into his plan, furthermore by Drake, was humiliating. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be in the principal’s office?” Drake continued to smother his victory over Damian. 

“I was just on my way.” He huffed, turning around annoyed. Drake and Thomas snickered as he retreated. 

Damian knocked on the familiar oak doors. “Come in.” Mr. Carson called from the other side. Damian entered, and plopped down on the same chair he sat in every time he had been sent here. “Ah Damian. Goodmorning.” He waited for a reply, but when he realized he wouldn’t be getting one he continued on, “Mr. Fenton should be here any minute, but I’m glad you were able to come here on your own accord.” Mr. Carson talked as he hung up his jacket and took a seat at his chair. 

Damian could only watch the seconds tick by as he sat in that office. He wondered absentmindedly if Fenton didn’t show up would he be free. The knock at the door decimated all hopes Damian had for that. 

“Ah, that must be Mr. Fenton.” Mr. Carson mused out loud, “Come in.” 

Fenton entered the room hesitantly, greeting Mr. Carson with a small smile. Fenton was a scholarship student and held reasonable grades so his intellect was not to be underestimated, though often simply being able to score well on tests did not translate to having adequate life skills. Fenton was taller than Drake, but still average, dark hair, tanned skin, gray-blue eyes. When Damian’s supposed mentor looked at Damian for the first time since he had entered the room, Damian couldn’t help but feel like he was caught in a stare off with a beast. 

The way Fenton examined his surroundings reminded Damian of the League of Assassins. Careful, analytical and tactical. All things Damian had excelled in. But there was something different about Fenton than what Damian had often seen in the League. His eyes were softer than those that had trained Damian. Damian couldn’t understand why his eyes looked like that. 

Fenton smiled at him in a way that was likely meant to be kind, “Hi, you must be Damian. I’m Danny.” He stuck out his hand for Damian to shake. 

Damian did not take the hand, instead he turned to principal Carson, “When can I leave?” He asked board, subtly eying Fenton’s reaction in his peripheral vision. 

“We have to iron out the finer details and the both of you will be free to go until we see each other for our weekly check in every Friday.” Principal Carson started, “Mr. Fenton why don’t you take a seat. 

Undeterred by Damian’s lack of interest, Fenton took a seat. Mr. Carson explained to Fenton his responsibilities as a mentor and what would be expected of him, Fenton in turn nodded along attentively. After his long explanation of the whole program the both of them were free from his office, and excused from classes until lunch to “get to know each other better”.

Damian translated that to having until lunch to show Fenton that he was out of his depth and have him running with his tail between his legs. 

“So…” Fenton drawled trying to buy time to think of something adequate to say no doubt, “How about we go to the library to hang out?” Fenton offered. 

Damian simply huffed in agreement as they made their way to a pair of sofas tucked between the many rows of books. 

“So, Damian, uh, what do you like to do after school?” Fenton asked unoriginally. 

Damian turned so he could meet Fenton eye-to-eye. “Train.” He said honestly. If he plans on scaring him off then leaning into the superficial things he learned in the League would do him well. 

“Oh, you do sports?” Fenton asked inquisitively. Damian was momentarily thrown off by his show of genuine interest in his personal life, but Damian quickly collected himself. Fenton was merely putting on an act to get him to open up, Damian would be a fool to fall for it. 

“No.” He scoffed at the thought of sports, “I train for battle,” He made sure to put as much confidence as he could in his voice. Oftentimes in the past when he had told his peers of his activities they had brushed him off and laughed at him, Damian wondered if Fenton would have a similar reaction. 

“Hardcore.” Fenton nodded in awe.

Damian blinked, “You believe me?” He found himself whispering. 

“Well, yeah.” Fenton responded as if it were the most obvious thing, in fact, he seemed confused as Damian’s bafflement. 

Damian quickly collected himself, “Well of course you should believe me it’s the truth, I’m a highly skilled blade user.” He nodded to himself. 

“Blade user, huh? Do you prefer katanas or wakizashi? Or a classic long sword maybe.” Fenton asked eying Damian as if it would help him find the correct answer. 

“Katanas obviously.” Damian scoffed, “They’re incredibly balanced, strong, and give you incredible control over your attacks. Wakizashi are also a good option if you prefer close combat and if you’re fighting in an area with a lot of obstacles.” Fenton hummed and nodded at his explanation, and Damian found himself continuing, “Long swords are originally from the Bavaria and Switzerland regions during the medieval times-”

[jinstronaut]

kim seokjin, according to @aprylynn happy birthday apryl! ♡♡♡