#trigger ball
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My favourite things about Only Fools and Horses are Rodney’s late reactions to stupid things people say and his dynamic with Trigger.
#he always carries on for a bit until he realises what they’ve said#like when he was like “you used to fancy agatha christie??” to trigger#only fools and horses#ofah#rodney trotter#trigger ball#colin ball
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Famed manga creator Akira Toriyama has passed away on March 1, 2024 at age 68 due to acute subdural hematoma.
Toriyama began his first serialized manga, Dr. Slump, in 1980, and it inspired two television anime and multiple films. Toriyama followed it up with Dragon Ball, which ran from 1984 to 1995, and is still inspiring manga and anime sequels and spinoffs today. The manga's Dragon Ball anime adaptation, its sequel Dragon Ball Z, and its other numerous sequels and anime films are equally as well-known as the manga, and its hero Goku has become a character known throughout the world.
Toriyama is also well-known as the character designer for the Dragon Quest, Chrono Trigger, Blue Dragon and Tobal games.
Most recently, Toriyama was working closely with the production for the Dragon Ball Daima anime series, the most recent anime series based on Dragon Ball, and is credited for the new anime's story and character designs.
#Akira Toriyama#Dragon Ball#Dragon Ball Z#DBZ#Dragon Ball Super#DBS#Dr. Slump#Dragon Quest#Chrono Trigger#Blue Dragon#Sand Land#Tobal#manga#video game#anime#obituary#R.I.P.
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Finally feel like I can say something coherent, so here goes... I say this without a shred of exaggeration: Akira Toriyama was legitimately one of the most important creative figures of the last 50 years. His work, especially Dragon Ball, has influenced SO much even outside its own medium. Movies, TV, cartoons, comic books, video games, MUSIC... all of it. You can see his fingerprints in so many other works. Even now, artists and writers, voice actors and animators, musicians and game devs are all mourning him and reflecting on the impact he had on their own work. Titans of anime and manga are sharing in this pain. The craziest thing about this though? The humility he had in spite of it. He was always reluctant to be in the spotlight, preferred to keep his head down and just work, never really worried that much about public perception of himself. Part of what makes him such an icon, man. Losing him is losing a piece of our shared history. It's something that resonates deep in the hearts of everyone his work touched. This is just... such a loss. And I can't even begin to imagine what his family is going through right now. Praying for them all. Rest in Peace to a literal Legend, an absolute Icon, and a personal inspiration in more ways than I could ever express properly.
#Akira Toriyama#dragon ball#dragon ball Z#Dragon Ball Super#Dragon Ball Daima#DBS#DBZ#RIP#dragonball#dragonball z#dragon quest#chrono trigger#blue dragon#SandLand#Dr. Slump
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The message that Akira Toriyama left for his kids in Chrono Trigger
#akira toriyama#nintendo#chrono trigger#gaming#video games#anime#manga#dragon ball z#dragon ball#dbz#dragon quest#super famicom#snes#super nintendo#90s#wholesome#rpg#jrpg#retro#retrogaming
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A tribute piece for Akira Toriyama
鳥山 先生、どうもありがとうございました。
Rest in Peace
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We lost another legendary creator
RIP Akira Toriyama
#rip#akira toriyama#thank you for being a part of my childhood#dragon ball#dragon ball z#dragon quest#blue dragon#chrono trigger
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Love when he 😈
#nate river#death note#he's so silly. forever treasure his lil evil smile. love him#he triggers my cute aggression but it's mostly aggression at this point. love him *squeezes him like a stress ball*
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i still cant wait for the balling
leon k kuwat ball
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Health and Hybrids (XXIII)👽👻💚
[I can't remember the original prompt posters for the life of me but here's a mashup between a cryptid!Danny, presumed-alien!Danny, dp x dc, and the prompt made the one body horror meat grinder fic.]
🖤Chapter navigation can be found here🖤 Click to browse previous updates.
💚 Ao3 Is here for all parts 💚 (now featuring mediocre mouseover translations, only available on a computer)
Where we last left off... J'onn broke the news that Danny thinks he's going to be forced into combat in exchange for his medical care. Everyone disliked that™.
Trigger warnings for this story: body horror | gore | post-dissection fic | dehumanization (probably) | my nonexistent attempts at following DC canon. On with the show.
💚👻👽👻💚
COME GET YOUR NEW ART HERE 💥🍳!!💥 IT'S FIBERCRAFT!!Shoutout to @rainbowbeansprout for crocheting a fic accurate injured ghost Danny!! That's outstanding!!
💚👻👽👻💚
So, Wally broke all of the bones in his legs yesterday.
Which is…not ideal. Still. He’s pretty used to it at this point, though, and he’s already mostly healed.
It’s just that. Well.
…The rest of healing is kind of…time-consuming.
So Wally’s in basketball shorts and a mask and a t-shirt he’d started using as pajamas when he was in college and he’s on the med floor of the Watchtower, and yet another physical therapist is helping him bend his leg back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, because he’d tripped in the middle of the Speedforce and busted everything hip-down.
So. (Back, and forth. Back, and forth. Back…) This sucks.
“Do we have to do this every time?” Wally asks, as if there isn’t a team of medical professionals kept on hand to deal with Superpower-wrought Super Medical Problems.
“Do you have to shatter your legs every time?” the PT asks back wryly, which, hey! The pressure pressing up against his bare foot is an additional stressor to the sass. “Bend this more for me, Flash. You can do it.”
Wally grumbles, and pretends the angle his leg is bending at doesn’t make him wince. Wow is he going to have to build his flexibility back up again.
The physical therapy room looks just like any other gym, basically; a lot of squishy mats in playful colors, a lot of grippy tape; a LOT of wipeable vinyl surfaces that can be sanitized at a moment’s notice. It smells kind of weird and plasticky and kind of like alcohol cleaner.
It’s not his favorite room in the Watchtower, but, eh. It could be way worse. What’s unusual is the whirrr of the door opening and closing in one of the private care rooms for another patient, since, you know...HIPAA and all that. Wally assumes. Or is it costume confidentiality once you leave Earth's atmosphere...?
Usually everyone knows who’s stopping in for PE through the sheer power of the Justice League gossip groupchats. (There’s at least nine. Wally’s in four of them. He aspires to be in two more by April.) There hasn’t been a big fight that requires long-term medical care in a while, and there’s no one Wally can think of who’d need this kind of recovery.
Something’s buzzing at the outside of his awareness, though. It sounds kind of…
Wally perks up. “Hey, the alien kid’s here!”
The PT holding Wally up at the waist hums. Her name is Cindy, and judging from their previous conversations, she thinks that Wally is the dumbest man alive. “There’s a million of those, Flash. Which one?”
“The one who bit Superman,” Wally adds.
Judging by the face Cindy makes, this clarifies nothing.
“Most recently,” Wally stresses, carefully not wincing as his leg gets stretched out again, only to be pulled back into position as tightly as before. “OW. Cindy, you’re killing me.”
Cindy makes a strangled noise. She asks: “What, again?” which is how Wally remembers that he got torn back out of the time stream not all that long ago, and it may be a big gauche to joke about your own death with the people who care about it.
Whoops. Wally winces. “…Nevermind?”
The other PTs make various fussy and annoyed noises, but the alien kid is wheeled onto the other side of the medical floor’s only gym. (The actual training floors are on another level. Wally wishes he was there. Alone.)
(Without four PTs clinging to his legs at all times.)
Wally waves. It’s a nice enough gesture, and now that the alien-phantasm-turned-flesh-and-blood-boy is more physically embodied than he used to be, the boy even deigns to carefully wave back.
The kid’s PTs—Wally thinks at least one of them is from the team that supervises Bart and his super-powered-leg-problems—end up encouraging the alien kid’s chair round to the soft mats where the kid can lay down. He ends up in the exact same position Wally is—horizontal on the floor, legs forcibly pinwheeled by enthusiastic but firm PTs.
Wally can physically feel the kid’s astonishment and discontentment buzzing in the air as he figures out what’s being done to him. Wally can’t help but laugh.
The kid angles his head towards the speedster. His face still looks—well, it looks…bad. It looks bad, unhealed and still threatening to weep neon green body fluids; there’s a wet, living crack running up and down his face that makes eye contact kind of hard. His hands are all spidery—this kid can probably hold and grip things, but the previous breakage have left his hands a little too easy to splay, a little too oddly-angled. He’s too thin to keep himself fully upright for long. When he looks at you, his eyes shake like a poorly lined-up television signal.
Martian Manhunter had said that he’d once looked like a healthy, happy human child. His current form is a reflection of the injuries he’d experienced since.
...What a thing for a kid to go through. Wally wouldn’t wish this sort of injury on anyone.
“Alright, up you go,” the PT above him—Rhys, Wally remembers at the very last second—orders, and Wally is prompted to let the man help him back upright. “Over to the bars for you. You think your legs are up to bearing that kind of weight as you try out walking?”
“…Sure,” Wally lies to Rhys. It’ll be fine. Probably. By the time he gets over there, his legs might have already speed-healed by then. “Hand me the—?”
“Yeah, yeah, here’s the crutches. Don’t destroy yourself trying to make this happen, okay?”
So Wally gets set up at the glorified playground equipment in his least restrictive gym clothes, one long iron bar under one arm, and one long iron bar under the other. Two full-size physical therapists spot him as the speedster completes the most strenuous task available to him at the moment: walking across a very short distance without putting his full weight on his legs.
Wally puts one shaking leg in front of the other. The steps are slow. The urge to zoom to the end of the little bowling lane he’s stuck in—and therefore shatter his legs under the speedforce, again—is irresistibly temping.
Healing sucks. And Wally’s even got the longer end of the stick.
In the end, Wally sticks the landing. He is unreasonably sweaty. He is miserable. But he makes it to the end. Every one of the witnessing PTs applauds as if this is a great success. It’s literally not. It’s the inevitable result of pushing himself too far for the third time this year.
A question buzzes through the air, fluffing through Wally’s hair and the little fine hairs up and down his body. It’s nothing but inquisitive—whatareyoudoing whatareyoudoing?
Wally lets the PT maneuver a chair underneath him. It gives him enough breathing room to turn his upper torso, and he ends up catching the eye of the little alien kid in the corner. He’s sat on a yoga ball, two members of his medical team and one of the kids’ PTs trying to get his attention back to his exercises.
“Hey,” Wally realizes suddenly. “Your casts are gone!”
The kids’ legs are actually bare, which Wally’s never seen before. They’re twiggy, sure, stretched taut over a bone frame, and discolored and pale, but they’re legs. Wally hadn’t even known the alien had possessed legs until he’d formed a physical body months and months ago.
“Dude, that’s great!”
Happy/smug/proud vibrates through the room, making Wally’s teeth buzz. The kid smiles through a half-split lip, and bounces on the yoga ball ever so slightly.
“Good,” the kid says, surprising Wally, his PTs, and the kid’s usual medical team. He was talking already?! He thought J’onn had said—
“Hurt?” the boy asks, concern/concern flooding through the air. Oh. Right. He’s probably here for his busted legs; it would make sense that by virtue of the setting, Wally would be injured too.
And, sure, Wally busted his legs, but he at least heals with all the swiftness of the speedforce. “Meh.” Wally waves off the question. “I’m fine. It’ll be quick for me; some rehab and some lunch and a few days off, and I’ll be in shipshape.”
Wait. Wally’s eyes scrunches up. Is using wordplay appropriate with this kid…?
“Pain?” the kid asks, and turned his attention to the closest member of his medical team. “He pain?”
The medical professional sighs, which finally clues Wally in that the man is no longer masked. Hey, the kid is out of medical isolation! “The Flash has his own medication, thankfully. His doctors know what to do.”
The kid frowns. He doesn’t get it. He looks at Wally, and he looks at the staffer, who shrugs. “It’s the usual indicator word he uses for pain medication. He’s wondering if you’re hurt enough to need some.”
Wally hums. On one hand, it’s sweet that the alien kid is worried about him. It’s a huge step upwards from the alien who spent all his time hiding in abandoned meeting rooms and occasionally biting Superheroes.
On the other hand, the kid doesn’t just look worried that Wally might not be getting care; he looks scared.
Something happened to this kid. Something he can't shake off.
Wally breathes in, and breathes out.
—And breathes in sharply when Cindy starts wiggling his feet. She doesn’t respond at all to his glare, because she is a professional, and he is not a big baby of a superhero.
Mean.
“I’m fine,” Wally finally responds, trying to alleviate the kid’s concerns through sheer vibes-telepathy alone. Who knows if it’s working, but it makes Wally feel better about trying at the very least. “I’ve got my own team to fix me up, and they do a good job of taking care of me. Even if they’re bullying me at my most vulnerable.”
“Anything for you, boss,” Cindy volleys back cheerfully. “Gimme your other leg.”
The tension in the air slowly dissipates. The kid doesn’t stop shooting occasional looks at the unadorned, half-out-of-uniform Flash, but he does let Bart’s little PT team get to working on stretching out his previously-bound now-physical legs and getting him upright—if only for a few seconds at a time, balanced precariously by humans who actually touch his back and arms and hips and legs.
Wally’s session wraps up before the kid’s does. He’s not in any rush. He gets onto the walking crutches Rhys leaves out for his temporary use and lopes over to watch, occasionally hooting and applauding when the kid pulls off something no one’d been sure he could do.
The double handed high-five Wally offers him at the end is punctuated with shaky eye contact, two working hands, and a green-threaded beaming grin.
*
Diana cheerfully digs into her kebab lunch, plastic cutlery pushed to their maximum limit before threatening to break under her prodigious strength. “You know, Batman,” she starts, beaming, “My charge gave me his name the other day.”
Bruce sets down his muenster-ham-and-whole-wheat sandwich mid-bite. “I’ll need to hear everything,” he says immediately, to which Diana tuts.
“Oh, Batman, I could never break his trust like that,” she says, sweet as anything. She finesses a bite of lamb from the skewer and takes a neat bite.
“…Wonder Woman,” Batman says.
“Hm?”
“Diana.”
“Is there something you needed, Bruce?” Diana asks, pleased with herself. There genuinely is very little that could be done with a vague description of a now-altered human form and a first name alone; besides, she genuinely does feel that hearing the boy’s name come from others’ lips would be upsetting for him. Danny offered his name to Diana alone, and so it shall remain until hers alone he offers it to others.
Still, she is not above bragging.
“I need information.” Bruce’s face underneath his mask is stone.
Diana dips a second chunk of lamb into a little container of tzatziki sauce. “Well, then,” she points out, “Shouldn’t you spend some time building rapport with my charge, then?”
The feared Batman of Gotham, father of a half-dozen highly trained heroes, bristles like a wet cat. The demeanor is almost comical. He knows what he looks like to non-Gothamite children. He knows his suit will make this fight for common familiarity an uphill battle.
Diana smugly works through her lunch and ignores Bruce’s silent brooding as he does the same.
#Bruce: have you considered being nice to me.#Diana: No. Why? Do you need me to be nice to you?#Bruce: ...no... (lying)#Danny: Is this where they turn me into a super warrior#Wally: no actually we're going to sit on a yoga ball for like. Ever. And then we have like to walk the bars#and up stairs#and DOWN stairs#Danny: this may actually be. Worse??#SHOUTOUT to the medical team for not triggering Danny the whole time they touched him!!! Big feat for Danny for letting people touch him!!!#health and hybrids#dp x dc#danny phantom#dcu crossover#dpxdc#dcxdp#tw medical#tw gore#tw body horror#although tbh at this point we're mostly a recovery fic#faer fic
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#my friend trigger is making me credit him because he’s the one that called them balls in his playthrough#titanfall 2#titanfall#we have not called them ticks since#shitpost
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Tribute to Akira Toriyama's works. Thank you, sensei.
#dragon ball#dbz#goku#chrono trigger#arale norimaki#dragon quest#dr slump#sand land#nekomajin#akira toriyama#vitamimesea art
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my babies my pookies my sweethearts my pookie pie sugar cookies
#anxi's art#art#drawing#illustration#dragon ball#anxi's silly doodles#dbz#dbs#dragon ball super#dragon ball z#danganronpa#trigger happy havoc#danganronpa thh#mouthwashing#anya mouthwashing#anya#mondo owada#zamasu#my comforts <3
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It's April 5th in Japan. Would have been Akira Toriyama's 69th birthday today.
Still so surreal and hard to think about him being gone.
He lives on in our hearts, though. Happy birthday, Toriyama-sensei.
#akira toriyama#toriyama akira#dragon ball#dr. slump#dragon quest#chrono trigger#blue dragon#sandland#db#dbz#dbs#dragon ball super#dragon ball z#dragonball#dragonball z
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The message that Akira Toriyama left for his kids in Chrono Trigger
#nintendo#chrono trigger#akira toriyama#snes#super nintendo#anime#manga#gaming#video games#dragon ball#dbz#cute#wholesome#90s#90's#nineties#nostalgia#nostalgic#ds#nintendo ds#rpg#japan#retro#retrogaming
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I know most people are familiar with Akira Toriyama’s work via Dragon Ball, but his work on Chrono Trigger and the Dragon Quest series are what made me want to get into character design as a kid.
Absolutely shocked and utterly heartbroken that he’s no longer with us.
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