#they freak me out bad

[nobodiesunshine]

i have something to admit but i hate jily😭😭

I DON'T KNOW WHAT IT IS THEY JUST FREAK ME OUT SO BAD!!

this is NOT recent, when watching hp when i was younger I just didn't like the snippets we got of them, literally don't know why they've just always disgusted me 😭

even during my drarry hyperfixation in 2020 if jily mentions popped up i got so uncomfortable.

idk man they just are not my pookies

and it's not even because they're a straight ship, I LOVE BARTYLILY!! pandora / xenophilius (is that how i spell it?), peter/sybil, etc are all ships i enjoy so it's not because they're straight.

it is also NOT BECAUSE I THINK LILY GETS IN THE WAY OF JEGULUS 😭😭 i know this because i ship moonwater too, along with bartylus and sunstarrosekiller (or is it starkillersunrose?? help whats james x barty x evan x regulus???)

YES jegulus is my main ship

YES i hate jily

NO those 2 things are NOT connected!

and it's so weird because i actually do like jegulily??? and i LOVE james and lily's characters i think they're so complex and i love them both sm separately but i HATE them together??

part of me thinks it may be because i mostly hc lily as a lesbian but also like i said i really love bartylily so clearly not??

like i am a multi shipper to my CORE it genuinely makes me so confused

and the thing is i don't WANT to be a hater, i've tried exposure therapy and it actually freaked me out so bad i genuinely had a nightmare i WISH I was joking 😭😭 and their ship name is so cute like FLOWERPOT?? ARE YOU KIDDING?? thats ADORABLE how could i want to hate that??

i guess it also doesn't help the jily community is so.... toxic but like i've said i've always disliked jily so i dunno

how do i get over this obscure phobia???😭😭

[hansoeii]

the honda odyssey, huh?

[ryssbelle]

Drew a bunch of Marinettes in a bunch of different artists styles it was a lot of fun!!

Artists who's styles I mimicked: @buggachat @hamsternamedmarinette @ladybeug @sabertoothwalrus and @anna-scribbles all epic artists 🤟😎

[sleepis4theweak]

Inspired by my mom pulling the emergency call cord in the hospital because I got the hiccups when I was like a day old.

[local-cryptid]

crying shame this didnt make the final episodes

[saintaviator]

something something gman tommy something something gordon in stasis. you know how it is.

[fridgrave2-0]

hehe ghost-turbo haunting felix au

turbo is connected to the last piece of his code in the whole arcade - a trophy he gifted to felix in mid 80s as a symbol of him genuinely caring about their relationships on par with being the best racer. felix also gave him one of his medals and both kept their gifts next to other rewards, but when roadblasters and turbotime were unplugged, the medal was gone with everything else

now, after burning in cola-lava turbo is basically dead, but scraps of his code still were intertwined with the trophy (after all, it was his first winner's cup, but felix never knew about it), giving turbo an opportunity to exist as a shadow incapable of interacting with anything and anyone besides felix, who kept the trophy even after the roadblasters incident

also I went crazy in tags, feel free to check them out

[starry-bi-sky]

Blood Blossom Au: Baby's First Commissioner Meeting :)

TL:DR This Post: Danny (orphan) gets poisoned with blood blossom extract by Vlad. He runs away from him and ends up under the care of one Pre-Robin Battinson Batman! Starry is loudly pushing her batdad agenda.

(Also known as "Late At Night, When The Nightingale Sings" on my ao3!)

This was a fun rough idea I've been sitting on for weeks, thinking about how Commissioner Gordon and Nightingale's first meeting might go.

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

Commissioner Gordon likes to think that he's adjusting to the new normal of Gotham very well, -- the new normal being grown men running around dressed like bats, in military-grade strength body armor, committing acts of vigilantism, -- and slowly, little by little, he was no longer being surprised when this new normal pops up out of the shadows like the world's most terrifying daisy. His shaving lifespan thanks him for it.

....

The kid is a surprise though.

Granted, he seemed to be a surprise to the Bat too.

There's been a string of murders lately, -- which, in Gotham, is kind of like saying there's been another storm during monsoon season. And there's just been another; in some dilapidated building down in south Gotham, with the broken, boarded-up windows and mildew-crawling walls to match. The victim is a man in his thirties, multiple gunshot wounds to the chest, left in the center of the room for the blood to pool out around him.

The place is already secured when he arrives, the building swarmed with officers and the forensic detectives. The Bat emerges shortly after he does -- or, he might've been here the whole time, hiding someplace dark and shadowy. For his own sanity, Gordon doesn't think about it too hard.

The kid is a surprise, and he appears like a bolt of lightning.

He shows up in the middle of a conversation Gordon is having with the Bat.

A whistle, sharp and loud, slicing through the air, meant for open air rather than a confined space. Gordon's ears pierce and protest the sound, and the solemn, murmured chatter floating through the room abruptly cuts off like the swing of a gavel. As he turns towards the sound -- as they all do -- he swears, up and down, that he sees Batman's shoulders jump, just slightly.

At the source, perched on the window, is a boy. A boy in a gray-blue scarf and an oversized black hoodie, one that hangs off his frame and has ace bandages wrapped around the wrists in some attempt to cinch the sleeves. The hood is up, big like the rest of it, and threatens to swallow the upper half of the boy's face whole in the fabric. What upper half Gordon can see, is smeared with some kind of opaque, black face paint. He's holding onto the side of the frame with one hand, on his hip is a grappling hook. A familiar grappling hook.

Gordon has multiple questions, and his officers tense up.

Martinez puffs up, brows furrowing as his face shapes into a frown. Shoulders rolling back. "You can't be here, kid--"

The reaction is immediate, like a spark to gunpowder, the boy yanks his fingers from his mouth and his mouth twists into a scowl. Head snapping over to Officer Martinez, his hood manages to stay on but Gordon swears that as he bares his teeth, the glint makes them look sharper than they should be. His voice is rasp and quiet and harsh; snappish in its hissing; "Put a fuckin sock in it, Martinez. I'm not stayin."

Martinez reels back, and the boy immediately veers his attention off him. Like a switch, his demeanor drops. Despite half his face being covered, his mouth twists into a cringing, apologetic smile. Slanted and off-beat, embarrassed. It'd be disarming if this wasn't Gotham, and if he didn't just hiss at Martinez like he was about to bite his head off.

"Sorry." He whispers, voice deceptively polite and softer now. Gordon has to strain his ears to hear him. "I was looking for him."

He points his finger towards-- Gordon? No, Gordon follows the direction, and finds himself looking at -- the Bat.

The Bat, who always looks stiff as a pole, now looks even stiffer. Somehow. Well, the explains the grappling hook attached to the boy's waist.

"What are you doing here?" The Bat says, gruff and unable to completely smother the stumble of surprise in his tone.

The boy still holds a sheepish smile, and slips off the window ledge. His feet hit the creaky boards with a near-silent thud, the Batman finds his feet and rapidly begins crossing the room.

Gordon notes the slight tremble in the boy's legs as he straightens. He adjusts his scarf, which droops close to his knees now that he's standing, and slings a backpack -- how long has had that? -- off his shoulders. When the Bat reaches his side, he does as he always does, and looms over the boy like a spectre. A threatening mass of shadows cloaked in all-consuming black. Standing next to him, the boy looks teeny in comparison.

The Bat is a man who terrifies even the most hardened criminals, Gordon has seen grown men shiver in fear at the mention of his name. And yet when the boy looks up at him, he doesn't even flinch.

Instead, his sheepish smile melts away like ice under the sun, holding only traces of his previous embarrassment. It remains as a shadow on his face, a small upturn at the corners of his mouth. The boy pushes his hood back just enough to reveal glinting, ice-flint eyes surrounded in tar-black face paint. He holds the backpack up with one arm. "You forgot this."

[avephelis]

NEED to check these things for fleas. take them to the VET! so sad they can't have deviantart they would have loved deviantart.

[suprrstaar]

I was going to draw something completely different from this I am so sad

[sergle]

biting my fingernails down to the quick as I see the rare post being like "you bitches and your measly $20 donations think that absolves you of anything think again" gaining notes because you are all worrying me rn by discouraging smaller donations and implying that donating is supposed to be 1) some kind of moral absolution and 2) that it only works in large sums

[yb-cringe]

was watching gabe and he was Very nervous about not being able to speak english with bad and the chat made a really good point which was; yeah they (fit and bad) . are used to this.

like its just very interesting to me in hindsight that qsmp prepped bad and fit to be very comfortable around people who didnt speak english or that they didnt understand, so it doesnt rly faze them.

in comparison early on i think it gave them both a bit of a shock ? to be like woahwoah what the fuck are you saying. very like deer in headlights kind of anxiety

but now theyre reasonably comfortable with it. which makes them perfect for events with translators because they're good with rolling w the flow.

fit says he wants to hear portuguese, he encourages it, bad is quick to read translations and keep up conversation and he can describe what he means in other words if he notices the translator messes up. they know to course correct if it fucks up and says something weird.

[cookiedough77]

i want adrien to go trick or treating for the first time with marinette, alya, and nino and hes told that he has to say "trick or treat" at every door and adrien fears that one of these doors hes gonna get "trick" and hes in a constant state of fear and the other 3 do NOT know whats going on with him

he breathes a sigh of relief whenever its just candy and then preps himself for the next house that could be a "trick"

end of the night hes let his guard down and nino jumpscared him and he cries

[threepandas]

Bad End, Hidden Heir: Part 2

Prev <-

A pounding headache and cave air, that's what I woke up too. The air was being choked, though, by familiar scents. All trying desperately to make the cold, wet, and softly echoing quiet, hospitable. It was nauseating in my current state. Weak and... drugged? Had I been drugged? I certainly hadn't been drunk.

So why did my head hurt so much?

Why did every motion, make my stomach want to rebel?

My limbs felt so WEAK. Heavy and useless. Barely budging when I try to lift them. To rub my head? Adjust the blanket? Sit up? I can't tell. Thinking... thinking is so hard past... the pounding in my head. The fog. I struggle to concentrate. God, that SMELL.

Like a perfume store combined with... with... ugh. Everything!

I could pick out individual scents I knew I liked, on their own, added to the nauseating chaos. My favorite potpourri was there. But so was the one I like for winter? Fall? That one I liked as a kid until I found Mrs. Tianna's blend...

And perfumes! Colognes! The clean products and scents I preferred the maids used. God it... it blended together like a trash heap. As though someone drove a carriage through a perfume shop at speed. Cloying and musk and spice and fruity and-!

I sucked air through my teeth, trying not to smell it, hoping to god I wouldn't TASTE it.

Finally I managed to pry my eyes open. Either hunger or thirst giving my the strength to push past the nauseating pain. I NEEDED to move. Find out what was happening. Survive.

My gaze... met the most elaborate embroidery I had ever seen. Tapestries had less art. Almost to the point of gaudiness. Possibly past it. It was...

It was everything I had ever said I liked.

Too anyone.

Puppies and flowers, history and art, books scenes and more. It kept GOING! Hideous and magnificent. Chaos. Unhinged. Flowing down from above me, along the rest of the curtains, for the canopy bed upon which I rest. So I would be surrounded by it all. Even the blanket... it was a sea of my favorite flowers, made eternal through string.

This wasn't something people just DID. Could just FIND. I could feel my panic under the muting pain and exhaustion. This was the work of YEARS. Obsessive, continuous, YEARS. Some of these threads cost more then certain house hold make in WEEKS! And for what? A secret canopy bed?!

I struggled, body barely able to obey me but trying desperately to assist. The blankets were heavy. The curtain around the bed equally so, thanks to all the embroidery. I.. I manage to roll. Squirm. Wriggle my way, undignified, to the edge. Flop over it and out from under the blanket. Too freedom.

The air is cold.

The scents WORSE out here. Now, I can see why.

It is a museum to all that I am. Every like carefully gathered in one place, every preference. Stacked and shoved together, with no regard for if they fit. Hoarded like a collection.

I can not even tell... if I am sitting, flopped down, on my favorite winter bedside carpet or just an exact copy. My entire life is shoved together and suddenly... suddenly I do not like any of these things at all. They feel dirty. Dangerous. Like they have betrayed me. I want to cry.

But I am nauseous. Hurting. Tired and thirsty. So very hungry dispite it all. I just... I just need to know what's going ON! This isn't... this isn't how the Game goes! Not for Protag-chan. Not for me! I know I changed my "character's" behavior... but...

I... I don't understand...

Try not to cry. It's... it's really hard.

I was right. I'm pretty sure this is the Caves of Spring in the northwest of the Duchy. The offical Heir has an estate near them. The stone looks like the cliffs I'd seen in passing.

Crawling is hard. My legs keep getting tangled in my fucking nightgown. My... my f.. favorite.. nightgown! I'm not gonna cry. Damn it. I'm NOT GONNA CRY. How dare he? How DARE he ruin even that? What did he DO to me!? When I was... was...

No, don't think about it!

Move.

A decanter. Needlessly pretty. I probably loved it as a girl, fresh into this world. Everything was so FANCY and I wasn't used to having money yet. Hadn't developed any real class or taste. It looks so fucking gaudy to me now. But God, it has water. Please... PLEASE let that be water!

I drag myself up on badly shaking limbs. Nothing wants to hold. Wrists buckling, knees giving, legs shaking like a new born lamb. My arms are so weak. But thirst... oh thirst is a powerful motivator.

I force myself to move.

The water is not enough. It is everything. Cold and perfect, I force myself to go slow. To not spill a single drop, as I collapse against the dresser it was placed upon. Letting my eyes explore my cage in the way my poor abused body can not.

There are thick bars buried deep into the bedrock, separating the "room" I'm in from the hall that leads away from it. And it IS a "room". Made in cruel mockery to resemble the luxury of the dukes estate. Perhaps even more aggressively decadent in certain aspects, though that isn't a good thing. It makes it border on a storage room, for how crowded with luxury it has become.

It is the reflection of an unwell mind.

And staring up at the portraits of myself I KNOW I never sat for? The countless sketches pinned up beyond the bars? I am in trouble. I... I should have run. Not sent Creep away. I should have been the one to run. Before it was too late.

I think... I think it might be too late.

Footsteps.

I want to escape. But where can I run? I am caged. I feel close and far away. My head hurts. My body hurts. Everything stinks and I am cold. Why? Why did you do this? The foot steps are calm and commanding. Even. They do not break stride.

I do not bother to watch my hunter approach me. The monster I can not escape.

I close my eyes to spare myself the pounding in my head. Drink more water.

He makes a softly dismayed sound, as though he was not the one to drug me, to leave me here. The door to my cage opens. Closes. Ah... such a heavy lock. Should I be flattered?

Crisp steps, the rustle of fabric.

"My lady, the floor is so dirty! You shouldn't be out of bed yet. I was just about to make you tea."

The AUDACITY.

Tea? TEA! Ha ha! After DRUGGING my tea? He actually expects me to accept a cup from him again?! He truely IS insane, isn't he?

I am scooped up without my consent, unable to so much a truely struggle. Placed gently on a plush chair, a tea table moved in front of me. A familiar cup. My favorite blend. Pretty little snacks laid out deftly on lovely little plates. I grit my teeth. Slowly tip my head up to glare.

He pauses when our eye meet... then shudders, some terrible look of pleasure dancing across his face.

"That's right... look at me~" he whispers, leaning entirely too close. "I'm all that you have now. So you'll HAVE too now! No more others. No more distractions. No more sending me away! People trying to get between us. Trying to take you away. I'm all that you need, My Lady. All you'll EVER need."

"Just look at ME, your loyal dog. And I'll take such good care of you. I promise~♡"

[mamawasatesttube]

"the bats could take down supers despite the supers being way more powerful than them because they are weak to kryptonite!!!" oh really? mhm, right, that's nice. hey, do you know what the bats are weak to? here is a brief, nonexhaustive list: bullets, bombs, swords, crossbow bolts, arrows, crowbars, bombs, grenades, being slammed into pavement at high velocities, drowning, asphyxiation, and i haven't even gotten into the frost breath, laser eyes, ttk in one case, etc. ...

[kitcat22]

We really don’t focus enough on Echo’s time as a prisoner of war and how earth shatteringly horrific it must have been.

Like i don’t think he would be immediately handed off to the Techno Union so they can cut the secrets out of his head. There was likely a time period spent being tortured/interrogated by the separatists for information before they decided they weren’t getting anything out of him the regular ways and handed him off to the Techno union’s experiments may yield more results. ‘Regular torture’ doesn’t imply it was in anyway easy to resist, by the way. Throughout history prisoners of war have been subjected to immensely disturbing interrogation methods. Physical, psychological,sexual you name it, it’s been done. He would have undergone this treatment by those who consider him less than a droid, so there’s the casual dehumanisation throughout all this.

Seeing as Echo had just been blown up before his capture, he liked would have endured this while already very injured. I headcanon that while he lost one of his limbs in the blast, the other two had to be amputated by the Techno Union because they were so badly infected they were practically rotting off.

His time with the Techo Union is undoubtedly the most awful, traumatising part of this whole ordeal, with forced amputations and unnecessary experimental surgeries. I see a lot of takes where all of this is done in one go but it makes more sense to me that there would be brief recovery periods between operations. Recovery is a strong word when this period would consist of being strapped to a medical bed attached to a whole bunch of machines, knowing what has been done to you and what will be done to you but being utterly helpless in stopping it.

The fact Echo was given prosthetics at all always seemed strange to me but one way I’ve reasoned it is that sometimes scientists do things without reason just to experiment. For reference, Unit 731 (Really suggest not looking this up if this type of thing really triggers you. I’ve only read the wikipedia page and still found it difficult to stomach)

Oh, and either Echo assumes his brothers are coming to rescue him and slowly loses his faith or he assumes at the start that they would believe him dead and is stuck knowing that no one’s coming to save him. Saving himself becomes a harder plan to achieve when he’s suddenly down multiple limbs and is constantly monitored, drugged starved etc.

Honestly the fact he seems at all together when he’s rescued is kind of a miracle because i think i’d have lost my mind multiple times over. I think he probably did straight after he joined the Bad Batch and everything set in.