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xaaron leading the wreckers
(meme under the cut)
(cough)
#hello (waves) i miss poasting#thanks jason for the idea. more doodles to come i hope...ah...i been thinkin about em. (making up stuff about them i mean)#my art#g1#impactor#springer#sandstorm#xaaron#top spin#twin twist#whirl#wreckers time .#umm i wish i could fit roadbuster in here. ok thats all bye
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TOP SPIM đĽđĽâ¨â¨âźď¸âźď¸âźď¸âźď¸
#one goofy boi#theme park ocs#miragica#gardaland#top spin#giravolta#ride ocs#digital art#humanized version#gijinka oc#flat ride
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I don't post that often anymore... but I'm not dead! Lately I've been drawing classic mega man weapons in the MM11 style. But as a stylistic choice, I decided to keep the classic NES colors too. (Especially since back in the day, multiple robot masters would share a primary color).
These are the weapons I'd usually go for first when playing 1-5 (pretending 1 is the powered up version.)
As a bonus... I have a few fangame weapons too. So far Rock force, Unlimited, SFR, Dr Wily's Final Attack, and Rocks! Are being represented. With Scorching spear being my stylized Redesign version of the weapon.
#megaman#mega man 2#mega man 3#mega man 4#mega man 5#mega man fanart#mega man fangame#mega man rock force#mega man unlimited#mega man sfr#mega man dr wily's final attack#mega man rocks!#mega man 11#mega man weapons#rolling cutter#leaf shield#top spin#rain flush#charge kick#cutman#woodman#topman#toadman#chargeman
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THE PILE PRESENTS: X-Play - An Episode for Cheap Bastards! | 12/8/04
And we pass the savings onto you!
(4GTV - 24/7. LIVE. WATCH NOW!)
#The Pile#G4TechTV#TechTV#X-Play#Katamari Damacy#Guilty Gear X2#Max Payne 2: The Fall of Max Payne#ESPN NHL 2K5#Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic#Last Exile#GameFly#Call of Duty: Finest Hour#Domino's Pizza#Gateway#Everquest II#Xbox#NCAA Football 2005#Top Spin#AXE#HP#Motorola#Killzone#Xavix#Winterfresh#Cingular#Spider-Man 2#Stridex#Truth.#X-Men Legends
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New Xbox Games for April 22 to 26 2024
#youtube#Xbox Series X|S#Series X#Seriesx#Series S#SeriesS#Xbox One#XboxOne#New Games#New releases#Eiyuden Chronicle#Hammerwatch II#Lunar Lander Beyond#Tales of Kenzera#Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Arcade#TMNT#Wrath of the Mutants#Aery#cyber city#Farm Tycoon#Hidden Cats in New York#Insurmountable#Metro Simulator 2#Ratyrinth#Another Crab's Treasure#Assault Suit Leynos 2 Saturn Tribute#Manor Lords#Sand Land#Top Spin#2K25
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was sick this whole week so im beaming it straight to narinder
#his ass is under five thousand blankets send tweet#he did get his cuddles btw i just didnt have the energy to draw it đ#affectionate red crown my beloved idc abt canon material shshshs#i found a bunch of these lil text ss on pinterest beware#ive also started another cotl save and now im plagued with ideas abt a Bad/corupted version of my lamb#spinning it in my head at top speeds#cotl#narilamb#cotl lamb#cotl narinder#cotl fanart#cotl narilamb#my art#cult of the lamb
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#Anabel's intrusive thoughts#Their size difference is MASSIVE LMAO#The fact Sawyer could wrap Emmet in one hand#The screenshot and a convo between friends launched these sketches ahah#Sawyer is a really cool character!! He normally wouldn't do this but the mental image was too funny not to draw ahaha#submas#emmet#pokemon emmet#submas emmet#sygna suit#pokemon sawyer#pokemon anabel#pokemon masters ex#pokemas#pokemon#silly#my comics#10 hour ex tempore grind#Sawyer turned out too beautiful ough#slow dance#spin like a spinning top#javelin throw#Not ship art but if you feel inspired by this go ham!!#Also I think their suits match really well!!
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oh ,,,,
#TEARS GATHERING IN MY BIG STUPID EYES. OH.#if I said I got sniffly when he said that would that be silly.........#the penguin hbo#the penguin#spoilers#the penguin spoilers#augh. augh. augh. augh. poison damage.#oz cobb#victor aguilar#*points at the writers* I came here to stare at a hot old man. not to have that hot old man validate my disabilities. how dare you...... <3#I've been bamboozled. played the fool. gadzooks. this is terrible (affectionate)#SNIFF I have so many thoughts about this show. spinning like a top.
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*miniature version of ur bff spawns before you*
#its their song :(#disco by surf curse#young snily would dance to this song together in a circle spinning round and round and round and yelling at the top of their lungs#oh u thot this was sevâs song? no no its lilyâs song to severus⌠now the âi cant wait for uâ hurts more huh#lily never got to tell sev that she forgave him so she sent harry to forgive him instead đ oh god#*clutches heart* *dies of hp angst*#harry potter#lily evans#severus snape#pro severus snape#snily#pro snily#platonic snily#severitus
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[jigsaw voice] hello non-transfem lesbian hornyposter. before you is a computer logged into tumblr dot com. your task is to write a hornypost about a transfem lesbian without making her an aggressive dom-top or a sexual predator. should you fail in this task, the computer will explode into a pile of hammers, killing you instantly. you have 30 minutes.
#spinning my web#anyways im j tired of only ever seeing us represented as dom-tops#like. speaking as a switch/verse transfem.#i love domming and topping but it is literally ALL you TME lesbians post about us.#like its a very obvious pattern and you arent as progressive as you think you are for it#we're more than just dykes with dicks to breed you on command yknow.#anyways idk if i got the format for this right ive never seen saw.#anyways tme lesbians stop being chasers challenge impossible
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Suddenly half-human
Danny was a full ghost hanging out in a random spot in the Zone when suddenly a rift in space tore open on top of him.
His very essence shifted as strange energies poured into him from a previously-unfathomable direction.
No longer pure ectoplasm. Something new, something living in a deeply foreign way.
A force suddenly pulled him to collide with cold, solid ground.
He felt different.
His whole body felt weighed down as if encased in thick rubber, preventing him from shapeshifting or even just floating up. Something thudded to life inside his chest, pumping a new fluid throughout his insides.
As he continued to lay there in shock, his chest began to burn.
Instincts he didnât fully understood kicked in and his mouth flung open, gasping for breath. The burning subsided as his chest continued to heave.
What the hell? Since when did he need to breathe?
He heard three young, panicked voices from across the room. He flopped his head in their direction and took in their appearances semi-deliriously, still trying to pull his thoughts back together.
They were humans. Living, breathing humans. A tall redheaded girl, a boy in a beanie and glasses, and a girl in what he believed was referred to as âgothâ clothes.
Wait⌠was he human now?
Awkwardly clambering to his feet, leaning against the wall of the strange tunnel for balance, he tried to give them a grin. It probably came out a bit more unhinged than he intended.
âSo, uh, any idea what just happened?â
#Danny was a full ghost half-revived by the Fenton Portal when it opened on top of him in the Zone#up to you if he was a human who died previously or an entity native to the zone#why did they activate the portal right then? idk. maybe Sam and Tucker are friends with Jazz?#or maybe they went over to the house for like an interview for a school project#well whatever the reason was they ended up in the basement and unknowingly hit the button#if you want the Fentons to still be his family maybe he spins a tale of being a human who was trapped in the zone until the portal freed him#and the Fentons then adopt him because he doesnât have any other family and they have so many questions!!#danny phantom#dp#danny phantom au#dp au#danny phantom prompt#dp prompt#full ghost danny fenton#well. prior to the incident#after the incident heâs the same as canon more or less:#halfa danny fenton#half ghost danny fenton
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Sham Sacrifice: Chapter 2
(Sham Sacrifice: Chapter 1)
Chapter 2, because @ciestess voiced an idea that absolutely consumed my entire mind and I could not rest until I made this
...
Dannyâs eyes tracked the swing of gunfire raining bullets across the horizon. Tucker reloaded, crouched, dodged left and pivoted, another blast of bullet confetti launched through a gaggle of zombie heads. He tossed the magazine and reloaded. Click. Ching. Danny flinched when a zombie smashed a hammer clean through Tuckerâs head.
 âGod. FuckingâŚâ Tucker pulled out of his hunch. He unclamped his fingers from his controller like bug legs unfurling. He extended the controller to Danny, bouncing it in his grip. âYour turn.â
âHuh?â Danny asked, as if he hadnât been watching Tuckerâs game the whole time.
âYou. Youâre up. I died.â
Danny accepted the controller, reloaded the screen, and jogged about a hundred feet forward before the first horde of zombies took him out football-style from the left. The death screen rolled.
âOops,â Danny said.
âNot your best work.â And Tucker took the controller back. Tucker shot a few spare glances to Danny while the level restart loaded in. âIs it Vlad?â
âNo. Well, yes,â Danny answered, flopping back into his normal position on the Foley attic armchair. Tuckerâs mom had planned to toss it ages ago, before it became Dannyâs chair. âBut at least he left when my parents went all zombie mode into the basement.â Danny picked absently at the scabs of leather flaking from the armrest. âIt was just weird.â
âI donât mean this as an insult, but itâs definitely not the first time your dadâs gotten some math wrong,â Tucker said. âHe blows up like three things a week doesnât he?â
âHe does. But he doesnât care when he gets that math wrong. This one was like I broke something important.â Dannyâs expression soured, and he picked a leather flake clean off the chair. âVlad did, I mean.â
âDoes any of the math actually work?â Sam offered from Tuckerâs desk. She leaned an elbow around the back of his chair, head tilted to Danny. A pencil dangled from her loose fingers, nib-half worn to the History of an Invention report she was actually working on. Tucker had half-assed his earlier in the day about the palm pilot. Danny had not done his. âLike, itâs all crackpot theory, right? Do ghosts even follow math?â
âI think they follow some math. Itâs not magic that makes the ecto-bazookas work, or the Fenton-phones work, orâwell the thermos DIDN��T workâuntil I made it work.â
The unspoken thing Danny had been not-quite-saying hung in the air. He said it this time.
âSo Iâm wondering if I did it. Like the Fenton thermos. And now maybe theyâre gonna do the math all over and realize the missing piece of the equation is one half-ghost son.â
âWell the order is backwards, for starters,â Sam said. âThermos worked because you pumped ghost-energy into it. How would you have done that to the portal? You were human when you walked in.â
âSamâs right. What do you think you brought to the table exactly? Button-slapping abilities?â Tucker loaded up the next level. âIt was their portal, and their math, and it worked. Thereâs a million-billion kinds of math and they probably just forgot one thing.â
Tucker took a headshot and died. Mechanically, he handed the controller back to Danny.
âYeah, probably.â
âAsk Vlad. Heâs got a portal.â
âLike Vladâs gonna tell me.â
âJust promise to be his diligent little son minion or whatever. Heâs easy. Wait, let me do the next level. You know I like the cyberpunk levels.â
âItâs not your turn,â Danny said, reeling the controller just out of Tuckerâs wiggling grasp.
âIâll let you do two in a row for your next turn.â
Danny knocked Tucker away, distracted just long enough for a zombie cyberbeam to launch from the horizon and take him out through the head.
The screen washed sepia. Danny stared at it. You died.
âŚ
Danny hadnât really meant to stay the night at Tuckerâs place. Theyâd just gotten really far in Man vs. Zombie, and Sam had gone home, and Danny was just resting his eyes between his turns with the controller.
So when he woke to the bright strip of sunlight beaming into his eyes through the attic skylight, his first thought was Fuck.
He was awake, here, morning, school. Fuck he had not actually done his History of Invention report, despite the stupid amount of grief it had already caused him this weekend. He pulled his face out of the armrest, now pineapple-patterned from the decaying leather, and pawed for his phone fallen on the floor. If it was still early enough, he could maybe still afford to desperately half-ass something before sixth period science.
He flipped his phone open. A text from Jazz. âDonât come home. Make up an excuse.â
ââŚFuck,â Danny whispered, through the sensation of his heart launching itself into his throat.
He scrambled upright, whole body shaking at the mercy of adrenaline shock so soon after being pulled from dead sleep. His mouth was dry, teeth unbrushed, wearing his old clothes from yesterday, report not done, Donât come home, Donât come home, Donât come home.
They knew. Heâd fucked it up. Somehow they knew. The math. Something. And it had to be with guns blazing, because Jazz would not send that text if theyâd taken the âWe accept youâ angle.
Were they coming for him? On their way here? Tracking by his phone? Did they like Mrs. Foley enough to not SWAT-slam her against the wall when she opened the door for them so they could come capture the ghost pretending to be their son?
Fuck.
Danny was upright. Danny was standing. Danny was shaking. Danny wasnât actually sure what the next thing was he was supposed to do.
Tuckerâs ball of blankets rustled from the couch. âMmph?â he asked, articulately.
âI have to. Go deal with my parents, I think,â Danny said, because any plan felt a little better than no plan. âI think they know.â Â
Danny was a ghost. Danny was gone. Tucker sat upright, alone, blinking himself awake. He was staring at the You Died sepia screen still displayed on monitor, now burnt into the plasma of the tv.
âŚ
Danny paused with his human hand slick on the Fenton front door. The gears in his mind turned as his plan quickly unraveled into no-plan. He had no plan, right? What was his plan? Handle this Man vs Zombie styleâopen the front door ready to dodge wide, because both zombies and parents liked to camp behind closed doors with bazookas at the ready?
ââabsolutely absurd, and entirely unscientific, with no probability of being true. It goes against everything we know about neurology.â
Oh, Jazz. Was Jazz enough of a bazooka-deterrent? Probably not. Knowing his parents.
Danny turned the knob. His heart hammered. If bazookas, dodge left.
The first thing he noticed was in fact the no-bazookas. It was what he was most looking for. And so it was Jazzâs expression he did not notice until secondâwhites of her eyes wide, snapped to Danny, with a look that would be accusatory if worry hadnât won that battle. Her cheeks were pale. Her hair was unbrushed.
He noticed his parents third. Compulsively, he rocked back onto his right foot, still outside the doorway, still outside the threshold of the Fenton family household.
Seeing his parents tired was of absolutely no shock-value to Danny. It was at least a twice-per-month tradition to see them haul themselves up from the basement sweaty and glaze-eyed at 7am, babbling excitement about some new ecto-spectral-hoozy-whatsits whose concept had shimmed into their minds at 8pm and now existed, fully operational, 11 nonstop hours later.
So it wasnât the exhaustion on their face. It wasnât the stagnant smell of sweat or the paleness of their faces or the stains on their clothes.
It was the way they looked at him. Like their whole world had fallen apart with his foot passing over the doorstep.
âDanny,â Jazz said, choked, a break in the silence. âThings areâŚ! A little weird here. So maybe, if you wanna just get to school, Iâll finish clearing upâthereâs a misunderstanding Mom and Dad have with their math. I am state finalist in Math League and have been studying college-level calculus in preparation for school applications so Iâve offered to help them fix their math, or prove to themââ
âDanny,â Maddie said, an echo of Jazz, but it felt worse. Danny scanned her hands for anything pointed enough to be a weapon. They were empty. âDanny can I just ask you something honestly, just quickly? Jazz is right. Iâm just trying to clear up an issue with our math. And I wonât be mad. Whatever the answer is, I wonât be mad. I just want an honest answer.â
She stepped closer. Danny fought the urge to match her with a step backwards. Her eyes roved over him in a starved way, looking for something.
âWere you there when the portal turned on?â she asked.
âNo, I wasnât,â Danny answered. He wasnât sure what to do with his face to make it look convincing. âIt just. It needed some time to boot up, or something, right? Thatâs what you two said.â
âThat was our guess ,but we donât really know. The security tapes are wiped. We tried to make them EMF-resilient but a very, very strong blast of EMF could still corrupt them.â
âYeah. I mean the portalâs gonna do that, right? When it turned on? Ripping open the Ghost Zone thatâsâgotta be huge EMF.â Dannyâs focus bounced between his motherâs eyes. âJust a guess. I really donât know. I was in bed, already, whenever the portal started working.â
Left eye. Right eye. Why was she looking at him like that? Like she was sad. Was this part a trick? Make Danny let his guard down, go hey Mom need a hug? and thatâs when the bazooka-whipping starts? It made his ribs feel scratchy. Stop looking at me like that.
âHave you felt anything weird at all, since the portal started working? Any gaps in your memory? Any parts of you that donât feel right? Is there any part of you that feels like itâs changed in a way you canât explain?â
She reached a hand out. Danny instinctively recoiled.
âUh, yeah. They taught us about this in health class. They call it âpubertyâ there.â
âDanny,â Jack said, and his voice was scratchy from disuse, from a long and uncharacteristic amount of time spent not speaking. âDid you die in the machine?â
A beat. A moment. Like when the zombie sends a hammer through your head.
âIâM alive!â Danny declared with a crack in his voice, with hands slammed to his chest. âLook at me. What are you talking about?â
âItâs the only math that works,â Jack continued, his words like chalk, his voice too dead. He looked too much at Danny. âIf one of you two walked into the portal, and died in it. And I donât think it was Jazz.â
This was bad. This was weird. Danny had ghost powers, sure. âThey canât kill me Iâm already dead,â was a funny joke sometimes. But it was funny as a joke. He was a ghost sham, really. A faker, a LARPer, whatever Tucker had called it. He was a human who was just kind of a freak now. More of a freak than he already was. He looked dead, for someone who was super-duper still alive.
Heâd buried that worry, already. They werenât allowed to bring it back.
âLook⌠at me!â Danny continued, mouth dry. He threw his arms wide. âLook how super alive I am! Iâm awake! Using energy! Eating food and sleeping with my human body. Iâve got flesh and blood and bones and stuff! Iâm not a ghost-expert but ghosts donât have that.â
This was weird. This made Danny feel like something was scratching to get free from inside his rib cage. It twisted his entrails. Sure Tucker and Sam had thought he was dead, for those first horrible few minutes, but then he changed back to a human and the nightmare ended there. Jazz never called him dead. The ghosts called him freak and halfa and whelp, but never âone of them.â That was his whole thing: being different from the ghosts who became ghosts by something so normal as dying.
He was not dead.
âIf you died in the portal, your ghost wouldnât have been ripped out of your body. It would have been allowed to stay, and then youâd beâŚâ Jack hesitated. âI donât know what youâd be, but you wouldnât be alive.â
âDad,â Jazz said, and she stood herself bodily between Danny and Jack. âWhat an absolutely messed up out-of-line thing to say to your son! You donât know that! Dad youâre tired, and just because you werenât able to solve your math problem in one night doesnât mean you get to treat Danny like this! I said Iâd help you with your math! Now apologize to Danny.â
Jazz looked over her shoulder to Danny, her expression falling at the sight of Dannyâs face.
Danny backed up over the door threshold. He shook his head. âIâm not comfortable with this. This is weird. Iâm gonna go to school now.â
âDanny, I promise theyâre justââ
Danny turned on heel. No backpack, no change of clothes. He took to the street without a single school supply and moved, and moved.
It was supposed to be guns-blazing. Molecule by molecule. Headshot you died. Heâd prepared for that this whole time, in the shower, in his dreams, in his daydreams in class. Heâd duck and dodge and explain himself over and over until they understood him.
Danny wasnât sure he was capable of explaining himself anymore.
âŚ
Danny knocked the heavy iron knocker. He was in ghost form, as a threat. He wondered if he still smelled like yesterdayâs sweat now that he wasnât wearing yesterdayâs clothes. Now he was wearing the clothes he died in.
No one answered the door. Danny phased himself in.
âVlad!â he called, and his words echoed along the slope of the two elaborate winding staircases that twirled and met at the top like caduceus. Gold-plated banisters. A security camera buried somewhere in the ceiling, no doubt.
Danny phased into the library. His eyes roved the three stories of bookshelves wrapping the perimeter like a sheath. Gaudy. Audacious. Like Vlad would ever read that much. Danny racked his brain because some something in here was the secret to opening Vladâs laboratory. Jazz had told him. Some gold something to be touched, and pressed down, or pushed up? Or it opened to a button. Or a keypad, maybe.
Danny spat a curse. He was being stupid. He was frazzled. He wasnât thinking straight.
He dove into the floor below. Intangibility was the only key he needed.
The sheetrock was cold, even when he wasnât touching it. The darkness was so piercing it made static jump in his vision, some weird trick of the brain Jazz had explained where, in the absence of all light, the brain hallucinates its own. It came with a sensation of pressure against his eyeballs, and a complete disorientation of direction, and he simply just kept going down.
Danny emerged into a wash of cold air. Cold like metal was cold. The low lights of dials and clicking machines were bright to his eyes previously dunked into the pitchest nothing. He drank it in, eyes grateful for light no matter how little, inner ear grateful for orientation that had left his head swimming and his stomach tight.
His feet tapped down to the stone ground, and the air that breezed past him was chilled.
âVlad!â Danny called again.
Nothing.
He moved by the floor lighting, which ran in trim along the perimeter of the laboratory rooms. It lit things from beneath, made machines gaunt and specimens into sharp geometries of darkness and flesh. It made the Fenton lab feel warm in a way Danny had never considered it warm.
His feet clacked. His breath puffed.
âVlad!â
He followed light, followed a wash of green miasma percolating from some far room and catching on the particulate of water and dust that disturbed with the air currents. Danny disturbed it too, walking through, wearing its shade of green which his shadow robbed from the wall behind him.
âVlad. I swear to god Vlad.â
He crossed the threshold of the portal room, where the dusting of green ambience became a medallion wash of golden-green coating, painting every surface of the room. The Fenton lab was one single expansive room, portal anchored into the far wall and facing all the dead and empty air in front of it. This was different. A much smaller room, walled on all sides save for the simple doorway, and each surface reflected the color back deeper and heavier. It was like a fishtank in the wall of an aquarium lit radiant aqua-blue by all the lights within, but green instead, pure ecto-green.
Danny approached the open portal. He stared into its placid swirls, mesmerized, and scared of it, in a way he hadnât previously felt about the portal in the Fenton basement.
âAh, seems the cat is a good mouser after all, it dragged you in my boy.â The words came sing-song. They came spine-shivering for Danny, who felt them like hot breath on his shoulder and reeled back, pivoted, fire crackling to life in his palms.
Vlad stood at the doorway, a solid 20 steps from Danny.
âVlad.â
âSo Iâve been hearing.â
âI need you to explain the portal.â
âAh, I see youâve spoken to your parents.â Vlad stepped in, washed in the ecto-green which muddied his ruby red eyes. He held his hands behind his back, cape trailing, a smirk on his fanged face. âLast I heard they werenât taking the news very well.â
âWhat news. What did you tell them?â
âMe? Nothing. In fact, very kindly for your sake I even tried to drive them away from the answer but⌠We know how stubborn your parents can be.â
âWhat answer?â
âThat youâre dead, Daniel.â
Shock washed like ice down Dannyâs spine. It sent prickles like spider legs across his skin.
âWell, I suppose thereâs still chance for some doubt. It could be Jazz. She could take the fall for you, if thereâs any benefit to that at all.â
âIâm a halfa. We are halfas,â Danny said.
âA silly made up word by a silly child,â Vlad mused, and the light smile left his lips. âWe are dead.â
âIâm not dead,â and Dannyâs words were small, and they were childish.
âYou are. I am. Embrace it. Itâs nicer this way.â Vlad took a few steps closer, lionously tall in his saunter, feet clacking the ground. âItâs very freeing. After youâve died already what is there left to fear?â
âIâm alive.â
âYouâre a dead body with its soul still stuffed inside it like a Christmas goose. A lot of things in your body donât work anymore, but ghosts donât work right anyway and it is, for all its defiance of nature, a perfectly symbiotic relationship.â Vladâs smile brushed his lips again, warm. âItâs nice to share this with you. Isnât it nice to share things with people?â
Dannyâs heart was beating too fast in his chest, and it was a human heart, a human beat. âIâm not dead,â he declared.
âYour wounds heal quickly because the ghost piloting you only needs to remember form. It stacks cells back into place and calls it good. Youâll endure fatal injuries as you no doubt have many times in your fights, but theyâre trivial because physical trauma is not what kills a ghost. Itâs what creates one. Youâll necrotize in places but itâs okay, because youâll carry on, and it will bother you only if you let it bother you, if youâre too sentimental about the puppet youâre still inside.â Vlad closed in closer, neck craning to appraise Danny. âGhosts love a facsimile of life so you will keep your heart pumping, your lungs breathing. Youâll eat and youâll sleep but youâll find you wonât perish if you donât. It just wonât be a good time if you want to keep occupying your flesh form. Take better care of it. You wonât get another.â
âYouâre psychotic. And youâre wrong.â
âI have all the math to prove it.â Vlad leered from over Dannyâs shoulder. He circled the boy, knocking Dannyâs balance, who still on a hair trigger stood ready to fight. The light from the ghost portal painted Vladâs face like the phases of the moon as he moved. âDid your parents explain that part to you properly?â
âNo, because they didnât get the math right.â
âOh theyâve gotten it right. This time. It only took them two decades longer than it took me.â The portal rolled like static, and its fizzling pattern crashed like an ocean wave across Vladâs cape. âNo amount of man-made power is sufficient to drag the entire fabric of the Ghost Zone up against our own, tear a hole through it, and anchor it to a stable frame. It requires something with a pull on the Ghost Zone, a strong pull, and that thing is a human life at the moment of an extraordinarily violent death.â
Danny backed a step away from the portal, from Vlad, but the walls boxed him in. He swam in its green light.
âYou stepped in and you turned the portal on, thatâs what you thought, right, Daniel? Pressed a careless button on the inside and now here we are. Silly parents for not finding that button first.â Vladâs face hardened. âNo. Jack and Maddie knew about the button. Maddie explained it to me over the phone. What engineer designing and building their own portal would forget the location of the on button? Theyâd pressed it from the outside. It didnât work. And so you pressing the button was not the important part. It was you dying to the electrocution that clicked everything right into place. And while your ghost should have been torn from your lifeless corpse and pulled to the Ghost Zone you instead pulled the Ghost Zone here. Your ghost got to stay put. You opened the portal. You became the undead freak you are. And now weâre here.â
Dannyâs eyes bounced between Vladâs. His cheeks felt hot, like he was enduring an accusation of wrongdoing. And he had none of the knowledge to refute what was being said.
âYouâre messing with me. Youâre wrong,â Danny shot back. He thrust an arm out, drenched in the fog of the portal. âIf the portal needs a person to die in it then explain your portal! Are you so casual about it? You killed someone? Youâre admitting to murder and you think I wonât do anything about it?â
Anger flashed like a storm across Vladâs face. His aura swelled, pressing down with a pressure on Danny as Vlad halted and cast his shadow clear across Danny, coating the back wall. âThe killing of other people with the wanton carelessness of half-baked machines is the domain of Jack and Jack alone. Iâve brought no such harm onto anyone else.â
âThen how do you have this portal?â
âThis portal? This portal that Iâve had for 20 years? Which I opened when I solved the piece of Jackâs broken math that he was never able to solve until this morning?â Vlad stalked closer, hunched, imposing. Danny stepped back. âMy boy Daniel youâve had it so easy. You had it so simple. A truly clean break. So clean so lucky. A single lethal dose of electricity and it was already over. Iâm jealous. You never even suffered.â
Vlad stepped closer, striking distance, arm extended. Danny flinched, but Vlad only swept his cape around, clenched in his fist, and pivoted to approach the portal.
âPut out of your misery before it even started.â Vlad slammed his fist against the portal rim, and the explosive metallic clang bounced through the rooms. His laugh belted out. âI should have been so lucky.â
19. Vlad Masters was 19. A sophomore in college. A man actively in the midst of sabotaging his social life to chase a woman who was already deeply in love with Vladâs best friend who he hated more every day. He wasnât sure what he ever enjoyed about Jackâs bumbling ineptitude, or his loudness, his brashness, his poor social skills, his bad breath, his mullet. Maybe Vlad had gravitated to Jack because deep down he loved how superior it made him feel to surround himself with the likes of Jack Fenton⌠And now, he hated how enraged it made him to watch Maddieâs eyes skip past his to focus on Jack Fucking Fenton again and again and again and again.
But surely there was hope still. Surely it was a matter of time before the rose-tinted glasses fell away and Maddie saw bumbling and inept and every such word in the basket when she looked at Jack. Thereâd come the day she tested the waters with Vlad to complain about one of Jackâs little quirks, and theyâd find solace together in all the things Vlad was that Jack wasnât, and all the things Vlad had that Jack didnât. And heâd be gone, back to bumble elsewhere, and it would be just them.
The day didnât come. It wouldnât come. And maybe Vlad needed to change himself for Maddie. If he listened to her and Jackâs ghost ramblings, if he could put Jack in his place and solve the things Maddie couldnât, it would show her. Sheâd understand.
Because that was the thing about Jack. His math was never right. Enduring Calculus 1 with Jack was all it took to prove this to Vlad. How many times heâd caught a single error on a single line for Jack, like a dropped stitch that would unravel the whole sweater. Every problem, without exception. Jack only passed on his homework grade with Vladâs help. On his tests, he failed.
So Vlad was staring at Jackâs equation, full of bogus math, which Vlad knew was wrong because Jack had penned it, and Vlad had not yet fixed it himself.
âIâm telling you Jack, it wonât work.â
âBogus V-man it totally will!â
It wouldnât. But Vlad wouldnât fix it for him. Not yet. Vlad would let Jack embarrass himself first, fully in front of Maddie, watching on, judging. Vlad would solve it for her. After. Once Jack had made a fool of himself for the hundredth time since college began.
He leaned in to study the portal frame. The gears were turning in his head already. He didnât hear the whir of the power source catch.
âŚ
19. Vlad Masters was 19. A tube ran down his nose and into his lungs, supplying oxygen for lungs which were failed by a diaphragm sloughing itself away. He was poisoned from the outside-in. Irradiated by ecto-energy none of the nurses or doctors could fully understand. It damaged his DNA. First obvious in the skin of his face where the blisters of his ecto-acne drained and sloughed. âAcneâ was the wrong word. An unkind word. They were boils where the blast had cooked his skin, microwaved his cells. The skin on his body blackened over time. Organs decayed. Vlad Master read a lot about radiation sickness. He knew everything he had to expect.
Jack and Maddie had stopped visiting. They were dating now. It was on their last visit theyâd told him, and Vlad hadnât taken it well, and heâd perhaps burned a few bridges with the words he chose. It was deserved. Considering what Jack did to him.
Heâd found the error in Jackâs math, by the way. Errors, but all the rest paled in impact compared to the lambda. The ecto-energy. The necessary ecto-potential to pull the Ghost Zone here. How stupid. How idiotic. For Vlad to die to a machine so botched in its construction.
When Vlad was released from the hospital, it was not because theyâd cured him. It had been because there is a certain cruelty in making a 19-year-old live the last of his days bedded down in a white-walled room with just his books, his equations, and no one coming to visit anymore.
He was released with bedrest instructions. Vlad did not heed them. In his beater car, every cell of his body aching, he drove. At the materials lab, he disconnected his oxygen tank and moved through the lab space with the tube dangling loose from his nostril. No one was Vlad Mastersâ friend. No one cared to stare long at his ugly boil-ridden face. No one stopped him as he hauled sheet metal, and supports, and bolts and wiring and resistors and power tools, checked out with a valid student ID, from the lab. The lab inventory room would not be seeing these back.
It was a prep bunker, buried beneath a vast lot of empty Wisconsin land, that Vlad hauled his materials. He and Jack had discovered it as freshmen. Poked through its bowels with flashlights and quipped and laughed over how eerie it was. Deep beneath the sheetrock, boxy rooms carved out of walls of stone. Shelf upon shelf of dusty canned foods, and shotguns sealed in cases fastened to the walls. The locks had rusted with water damage.
His arms ached until they throbbed, dragging beams of metal across the stone floor, scratching chalk-mark stains into the ground. His skin sloughed, inflamed, burning to the touch. Vlad didnât bother to rest, because these injuries would never heal anyway. He hauled, and welded, and wired up his circuitry and resistors with a care and caution Jack would never have bothered to practice. He checked it against his math by flashlight. He took naps on the cold stone floor and woke with deep purple bruises on every part of his body that had pressed against the ground.
His appetite left him. His lungs filled with mucus. The boils on his face had spread down to his chest, his shoulders. The touch of his shirt chafed them, so he worked without one, a figure of skeletal rib ridges jutting from tight skin that bloomed with the projection of his shadow against stone walls.
He knew why Jackâs math was wrong.
A silly mistake. A stupid mistake. Anyone with half a mind for the paranormal should have realized the Ghost Zone was not so easily at your beck and call. Not without chumming the water with something it would rise to feast on.
And in that violent death, what would happen to the ghost? It would stay, wouldnât it? If it successfully anchored the Ghost Zone to the portal it stood inside, then by definition the ghost would stay?
And was that death? Yes, in a way. But it was a death one would get to keep living. As opposed to the death Vlad was headed for, whose coldness and finality scared Vlad more than anything he could put to words.
Heâd fixed the oxygen tank back to himself. He couldnât work without it, hauling it about on a little dolly with him, back and forth, while he fetched and affixed the last of the plating he needed to craft the frame of his silent soulless portal.
Heâd stolen a generator from the sports storage shed. It was meant to be enough to power the portable stadium lights they hauled onto the fields for late games, an absolute obelisk meant to cast light across an entire football field.
Surely, it contained enough power to kill one simple human.
Vlad fixed the last bolt in place. Jumper cables clamped generator to portal wiring. It was a pure skeleton. A paltry thing, like the bones of something already picked clean. Built in haste, sloppy, by a 19-year-old whose fingers were too inflamed to clutch a wrench any longer.
He could have asked Jack for help. Maddie. But he wouldnât let them have this. They had to solve the portal on their own. They didnât get to know his hard work. They did not get to save him.
Vlad would save himself.
A ghost anchored to a body. What was that? What monster was that?
Vlad moved. He coughed mucus from his lungs. It made it hard to breathe. So he moved slowly, and crouched, bony jutting angles, painted blotchy purple, all bruises and skin, sloughing away.
He crouched, because the portal heâd constructed was not large enough to hold him standing up. He bowed inside it, a small thing, a pathetic man of little life. He wheezed. He hurt. His eyes burned.
And he held in his hands the remote to flip the generator switch, and connect the circuit, and bring to life the math Vlad had so kindly corrected out from under Jackâs grip.
Vlad did not. Because throwing the switch would kill him.
Deep in his animal brain, his dying brain, he knew this intimately. It filled him with a drowning fear like paralysis. He did not want to die.
He would die if he did nothing.
It would be this one throwing of the switch which could save him. Which would burst the portal to life right through his heart. Electrocute it out of its rhythm, slaughter him like a pig on spot and⌠maybe⌠hopefully⌠drag the Ghost Zone here. And whatever he was, dead, would stay.
And whatever he was, dead, would be better than this.
Vlad held the remote in his clammy hands.
And from within the humming skeleton of his portal, his fingers caressed the on button.
âŚ
The portal sung its happy contentment, mused in its healthy green aura, staining all the slabs of rock wall. Danny swiveled his head, recognizing now the bunker this had been before it had been a laboratory.
âIâve harmed no one, Daniel,â Vlad concluded, his voice too measured for the horrors it had spilled forth. Too calm against the blossoming terror its words had wrought across Dannyâs face. âI opened the portal to save myself. Youâre lucky, Daniel. It was because of my fast thinking that your father is not a murderer. I took that honor from him.â Vladâs head tilted to the side, suddenly sympathetic. âAlthough, youâve maybe made the title whole for him.â
Vlad reached out, Danny shot away.
âDad didnât kill me,â he choked. âI did this to myself.â
âHow lucky Jack is, to always dodge responsibility for his actions.â
âI donât believe you.â
âOf course you donât. If you believed me, youâd have to accept youâre not wriggling out of this. Thereâs no denial you can bring home to your parents. If you believe me, then this is reality.â Vlad smiled, a playful glint to his fangs. âI suppose I should have more sympathy. I quite like being this way. It is so much nicer than wasting away to death, like I was. But you. You were healthy before this. This killed you, and it didnât save you from anything.â Vlad cocked his head. âSuch tragic fates, both of us, due to the carelessness of Jack Fenton.â
Danny shook his head. His heart beatâhis human heart beatâall too fast in his throat. It made him sick. It made him feel like the walls were closing in around him. This was Vladâs doing. Vladâs trap. Vladâs prison heâd been forced to join.
"That's not true. I'm not like you."
âOf course not,â Vlad said, sweetly. âHow sweet denial is. Deny it if you like. Call me a liar. But if you ever want to come to terms with what your father did to you, consider coming to me. I understand you in a way no one else will.â
Danny gave no response. He gave no acknowledgement of Vladâs words. He took to the air, phased himself up through the sheetrock that had been packed atop the doomsday prepper bunker. Up through the mansion, which had been built atop the portal beneath it, and not the other way around. Into the open sky, he breathed fresh air not stagnant and damp beneath the ground, bathed in light pure white from the sun and not tainted green like the bowels underneath him.
And he flew back toward the portal that made him, leaving Vlad with the portal from which heâd made himself.
...
(inspiration post from @ciestess)
#sham sacrifice#danny phantom#dp#dp fanfiction#vlad masters#danny fenton#YELLS AND THROWS THIS AT YOU#ive been spinning around like a top on this idea#tw: suicidal ideation
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gardaland top spin go brrrrrr
#he oramg#and yello#theme park ocs#my art#gardaland#top spin#miragica#giravolta#ride ocs#chibi art#humanized version#gijinka oc#digital art
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Coffee Latte , Spinning Top and Matches - Matias Quetglas , 1976.
Spanish, b. 1946 -
Egg tempera
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IM GOING INSANE <3
#reanimator#danbert#herbert west#daniel cain#dan cain#nicodoodles#digital#I be texting my friend who made me watch the movies like my god Iâm going insane#rotating herbert in my mind like heâs on top a lazy susan#spinning that shit so fast
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iceman + his concern for maverick post-hop 31
#icemav#top gun edit#ice is a FASCINATING one to watch post-hop 31 imo because while yesâ obviouslyâ the focus is on maverick and his grief and devastation#ice is there the whole time in the backgroundâ watching. and he's visibly disturbed by what he's seeing. because yeah -#he and mav had a rivalry going and yeah he called maverick dangerous and reckless to his face and he stands by that - he does.#but the problem is that this time - this one fluke freak accident of a time - it wasn't maverick's fault at all.#an unrecoverable flat spin brought on by a compressor stall from ice's jetwash isn't something that maverick could've outflown#by sticking to textbook maneuvers. it was just shit luck and shitty circumstances aligning to create a tragic mishap.#but now - now ice can see the way maverick is unraveling in the aftermath#and i'd bet that on some level it terrifies him to see that.#he's used to seeing maverick with all that brash cocky confidence with the moves to back it up.#he's maybe even had a bit of fun jockeying against that. not that he'd admit that out loud. (yet)#but maverick's spiraling now - a hollowed out shell of his former self - leaking grief and self-doubt and despair everywhere he goes#and it actually hurts to look at for iceâ seeing maverick like this. seeing how much maverick really REALLY fucking cared under that facade#and wondering if maverick is finally taking the stuff ice said to him to heartâ but applying it all wrong.#so he watches maverick and eventually that concern builds to a point where he tries to offer an olive branch in the locker room#you can SEE how carefully he gathers himself - how much he's holding back - he doesn't want to say the wrong thing to maverick NOW#he doesn't want to make this worse than it already is. so it comes out stilted. it's earnest - but restrained. he can't find his footing.#he doesn't know where he and maverick stand now but he's sorry - that goose is goneâ that maverick's going through thisâ#that he doesn't know how to help or what to sayâ and - crucially - for his own part in this.#but he wants mav to stick around and push through this. even though he's dangerous. even though he's reckless. ice wants him to beat this.#so when maverick shows up to graduationâ ice is encouraged. and he's a little warmer. maverick really might pull through.#but thenâ all too soonâ it's ice's life on the line in maverick's hands. and it scares the shit out of him because maverick's not ready#and now ice - and slider - are going to have to pay the price for that.#and thenâ against all oddsâ maverick pushes through. he comes back for them. he comes back for ice.#and after that...well.#after thatâ ice does know what to say: a vow.#my amvs#linds original
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