#you're frightened and you're frightening

[weltenwellen]

Kay Redfield Jamison, An Unquiet Mind: A Memoir of Moods and Madness

[egophiliac]

gargoyle Mal is everything I've ever dreamed of and more. his little raincoat! his umbrella! I hope he really does have big ol' stompy rainboots to splash around in puddles in. I hope they have little faces on them.

(Twst please give me Malleus having a rainy day adventure, this is everything I need right now)

[pangur-and-grim]

in hotter weather, Chiefcake likes to sleep in the bathroom because of the cool tiles. but unfortunately she is VERY territorial, so when using the toilet, you will be attacked.

she just boxes you and growls, so I tolerate it without much thought, but guests get quite alarmed if they're not warned. what makes it worse is that she sleeps behind the toilet, which hides her completely!

[faeriekit]

Health and Hybrids (XXIV)👽👻💚

[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... PHYSICAL!! THERAPY!! LET'S GET TO IT!! *80s aerobics music is piped in from nowhere* Also Flash numbero two was there.

Trigger warnings for this story:  body horror | gore | post-dissection fic | dehumanization (probably) |  my nonexistent attempts at following DC canon. On with the show.

💚👻👽👻💚

“Green one,” the quickfast one says. The masked teenager groans.

Danny looks down at his cards. He’s got a green eight. He drops the card onto the pile, and waits, perfectly aware that the girl is only down to her last two cards. The card flutters vaguely toward the pile on Danny’s bed cot.

He’s sitting with his legs crossed now, he admires. Holy crap. This is what dreams are made of.

“Bruce two,” the teen in the leather jacket demands, slapping down a—Oh, it’s a green 2+ card. It’s take two. Right.

The blonde girl scoffs, but her two cards bloat back up to four. Quickly though, with a little shuffling, the four become three with a green three slapped down on top of the deck.

Everyone is down to only a three or four cards. Danny is sweating through his medical issue tee and shorts.

Danny has not won a single game yet.

Danny really wants to win.

The masked teen (why is he wearing a face mask?? Like…over his eyes?? Not even his mouth??) opens with a new complication: a red three.

The red-haired quick-kid flicks a wild card plus four down with a smirk, pleased to make this Danny’s problem. “Blue, cnytte four!”

Okay, so what is cnytte?? Danny just got used to ‘take’. What is this new synonym. Why is everyone determined to hurt him like this. Why couldn’t these people just use Esperanto.

Whatever. Danny bites his lip and pulls the trigger: wild card plus four. He quickly points to the leather-jacket teen. “R-red. Br-take eight.”

The kid splutters. “Hey! That’s not the riht!!”

That is for sure how he and Jazz used to play it in after-school. The other kids never complained. “Is.”

“No, it’s not??”

Danny sticks his tongue out. The leather-jacket wearer squawks theatrically; it takes the mask-wearing kid thirty seconds to find the official pdf of the rules of UNO, and a new argument is off to the races.

“Atredde!!” the teen demands, snatching the phone out of the masked teen’s hands to show Danny the screen. “Þær, there!!”

“I can’t read,” Danny points out cheerfully. He can read some things, sure, but not when he refuses to look at the phone.

The phone gets closer and closer to Danny’s face, and Danny looks anywhere else—at the ceiling, the floor, and his bed, all without letting the guy point it out to him.

“Atredde,” the guy demands, the glass of his screen mashed against Danny’s cheek. Danny struggles not to laugh. “Atredde, atreddeatreddelooklooklook, you wearg—“

“No aðs, no aðs!!” the only girl of the group yelps, grabbing the spare pillow from underneath herself to start beating him with. Danny’s assailant shrieks. “Do you want to get in trouble with Wonder Woman?!”

“Wonder Woman wolde take my sid!” the teen hollers. Danny ponders if biting him would solve anything for all of two seconds before the doors smack open.

Everyone looks at Diana. Diana looks at everyone.

“I win!” Danny cheerfully announces, and sets off more yelling.

Danny does not, in fact, win anything other than a late lunch. Still, it is enough that he won, even if he has to sit through a gentle, brow-raised scolding as the nurse cleans his port and replaces his stomach-hole bag.

Lunch is a smoothie with powered vitamins and some pain medication mixed in. Life goes on.

For the first time, though, Danny doesn’t eat lunch alone; since he can, like, keep his bed relatively clean now that he isn’t constantly leaking ectoplasm everywhere, there are four teenagers crammed onto his bed with sandwiches, wraps, and sodas of their own. Danny can phonetically pronounce the brands on the side of the can, he notices. He has no idea what they mean, but sometimes the girl in the blonde bob and the too-fast teen will ask him to pronounce them, and they only snicker sometimes.

The teen in the mask makes a noise. “I want a lið. Wha want anything?”

“Nah,” No,” “Na þancs,” all echo.

Danny sucks on his smoothie straw. It tastes like bananas today. Ew; potassium. “What is… lið?”

The teen holds up a can of soda in his ungloved hand. Danny makes a face. He’d love a Mountainous Dunk right now, but gas in his bag…eugh. More trouble than it’s worth.

“No.”

The teen shoots him a pair of finger guns and darts out the door, leaving the rest of them behind to argue over UNO rules in at least two languages and without any expectation of resolving the issue.

Danny peaceably polishes off his smoothie. He’ll have to get the back done again, but eh. As long as no one’s directly looking at the process while it’s going on, he doesn’t super care whether or not anyone’s in the room, per se? Is that weird? Is this weird??

It’s probably weird. But also. Danny has fuzzy memories of roaming the building and leaking goo the entire time he was out and about, so… Suck it, he can do what he wants! He’s sick!! And maybe even dying??

“What is þæt andwlita??” the blonde girl asks, only for the quick-fast teen to poke Danny in what can be assumed to be a grumpy expression. Danny feigns a bite just to be mean. The other teens don’t even pretend to think it’s a threat—the blonde even laughs.

The teenager comes back and sits on Danny’s bed again, mattress barely bouncing as he makes himself comfy. It takes Danny a second to realize that he didn’t come back empty-handed, though—but instead of sodas, the guy brought back a tablet and a weird expression under his mask.

“…Look,” the teen finally says, and flips the tablet onto his lap so that the screen is visible. The teen clicks on a browser, and types in a word Danny isn’t familiar with, and pulls up a stock photo straight out of a photo frame Danny could buy at the craft store. He points to the smiling woman, the man, and the kid in the picture. “Moder. Fæder. Dohtor.”

Danny glances at the photo, and then at the teen. …Okay…?

The teenager bites his lip, and picks a new photo. This one has two men and a child, but it was basically the same. He points to each person as he named them: “Fæder and fæder, and sunu.”

Danny looks at the photo. He looks at the teenager. He looks at the photo again, and the masked teen backs out of the photo he onscreen to pick another one—with a woman and a man crouched around three kids and a dog.

“Moder. Father. Daughter. Daughter. Son.”

Realization breaks over Danny—oh. These are supposed to be families. These are family titles. Huh.

Danny scrutinizes the image. They…you know. They look happy. Danny used to…

…Mom, and…

It hurts too much to look at the photo for long. He knows that it’s fake, and he knows that models just get hired for show, but even the imaginary families hurt. Happy, loving people exist out there in the world.

Danny was in a box. Danny was in a box.

Danny—

The teen makes another noise, and Danny drags his focus out of his melancholy doom spiral with every tooth and claw. He manages. Barely. The masked teenager switches over to a drawing app and pops a tablet pen out of—nowhere, actually? Where did that come from??

The teen hems and he haws and he fills out a stick figure with some red and black clothing details—and a mask, and a bowl cut, which is how Danny figures out it’s a scrappy little self-portrait. It doesn’t look at all like the oversized tee tucked into the teen’s short shorts, but you know, whatever.

Next to him, the dude draws a giant, brick-wall-broad, no-eyed, man-shaped blob with upright pointed ears.

It’s. Uh. It’s sure…something.

“Son,” the teen labels himself, and then draws an arrow to the giant, colorless blob. “Father.”

…Danny squints. Is that normal? To have a huge hulking entity-dad, and then have a short, shrimpy-looking teen waif?

Like you, imaginary Jazz interrupts, since he was thinking about her.

He carefully bats the thought away before it can make him cry.

“My father,” the teenager adds, since Danny probably looks like he’s mostly paying attention. “Stincende.” And then the guy draws a bunch of stink lines coming off of him, just to prove a point.

Danny chokes more than he laughs. The teen’s friends laugh outright, teasing with words that are a little too quick for Danny to parse and snickering under their breath. The masked teen smiles quietly.

“So mean,” the teen in the leather jacket declares, cackling mercilessly. The orange-haired teenager wheezes breathlessly.

“Stincende hlaford of the trask,” the teenager adds mildly, cheerfully without mercy. “Very boring. Very stif. Very grimm.”

Okay, so some of those words were definitely straight-up cognates. Mr. Lancer gave Danny a C in English last semester, but Danny’s going to guess that, based on how their language is pretty much entirely similar, that the stink lines are more of a metaphor than anything.

“Gross,” Danny decides. He’s not sure if the word actually means gross or if it’s more of a medical-trash-and-waste-disposal sort of word, but his audience of four snicker and bump his shoulder and that’s good enough.

“Mmhmm,” the masked teen agrees. He clicks on an eraser tool, enlarges it, and wipes himself clean off the image. In his place, he puts a little white-haired figure in a white medical gown.

…Oh.

Between them, the artist puts speech bubbles, giving both the drawn Danny equal part in the imaginary conversation.

“Talking,” the teenager says without looking at Danny. Eventually, when the speech bubbles are done, he lifts his head. “Yes? No?”

…Is this a request? Is this a demand? Danny fists the sheets between shaking fingers. Nowadays, they always shake at least a little. There are no perfectly still days.

“Have to?” Danny asks, hesitant. It’s a common enough clarifier to use when he doesn’t want to do something. They try to explain what they can to him here, but the language barrier is thick and impenetrable in many places.

“No. He just wants to.”

“…Why?”

The masked teen frowns. He takes the tablet back from his lap and begins to draw something way more complex.

Everyone else slowly works on their food, but the masked teen doesn’t return until he has, from what Danny can tell, a thickly complicated organizational tree chart.

He recognizes a few headshot photos in the middle. The green guy. The human-looking guy in red that Danny does PT with sometimes.

Towards the bottom are the teenagers—both ones Danny does and doesn’t recognize, and some of the teens around him are photographed in different hats and outfits and masks. The quick-fast-red-haired teenager Danny’s come to recognize used to have shorter hair, apparently? Now it’s down to the teen’s neck. Meanwhile, the blonde girl’s got a haircut; her new look has a shaved undercut and a body too short to prop back up into her photographed pigtails.

The guy in the leather jacket looks the same.

…Danny holds up the tablet to compare to the teenager himself, who kindly poses the same way as he does in the picture in the same way: suns out, guns out. Yep. That’s him alright.

At the top of the organizational tree are three people—a dark-haired guy who Danny’s seen in passing, Diana, who is both a superhero and a super-minder, and some scary lookin’ dude who looks exactly like the doodle Danny just saw absolutely smothered in stink lines.

The tablet falls out of Danny’s hands. He’s not mad or anything, but he tends to drop stuff when holding it becomes too much of a burden.

So.

The masked teen’s dad, is, like…one of several bosses. One boss is the person watching Danny at all times, which is…weird. Danny isn’t sure he warrants, like, constant security from a high-ranking super-someone. He mostly just sits around all day. Sometimes he gets his stretches in. Sometimes he gets wheeled out to look at the stars, and then he just…sits some more.

Danny shifts in his seat. So maybe he. Maybe…

…Okay, so even if talking isn’t good, per se, at least maybe he’ll figure something out? Maybe?

Like. Maybe he’ll be able to figure out, like…why he’s here. Why he’s in space. Why they’re taking care of him.

Danny doesn’t look forward to talking. But it’s. Fine.

Probably.

He nods.

“…Yes?” the teen asks again, double confirming that this is what Danny wants. Danny doesn’t want this, but he wants answers, so he nods again, more firmly. But still. Staring. At the sheets underneath him.

“Okay.” The teen opens up a messaging app, and types something into the address bar. “Now? Or later?”

“Later.” Danny’s got to rest and digest lunch first.

“Okay.” The teen types into the tablet with the little pencil. Danny sees verbatim what the masked teen wrote when he turns it around: very literally, “Yes,” and “Later.”

There’s a little spot for Danny to sign his name. The teenager gives Danny his pen.

…Danny just hits the send button and is done with it.

[neosatsuma]

not that he wasn't there already but I am putting this man in my locket forever and ever

[bearofohu]

ok im very sorry my boy but this is suspect as fuck to me. luke was the one who suggested visiting eggmuffin's workshop but its only when gunman joe appears to warn layton that he suddenly wants to go back. there is no way this boy is suddenly scared after spending all of his childhood with the bravado of a chihuahua. somethings going on there

[starcurtain]

I think my favorite breed of RenHeng is definitely:

Even in the Shackling Prison, Dan Heng had just enough memories of Yingxing to be hopelessly, achingly in love with the man despite never meeting him in his current life, spending years agonizing over the cognitive dissonance of wanting to leave every single shred of his previous incarnation behind but being unable and unwilling to let go of the exquisite gentleness and warmth of that one person--

Only to be told that Blade is Yingxing. That his greatest source of horror and anger is the same person whose calloused fingers nightly trace the line of his cheek in his favorite dream, the one that used to make Dan Heng feel like a treasure, like something worth keeping--

And how, how is it fair that he's still being punished? How deep are the sins of his past that he isn't even allowed to keep the illusion of being wanted? How could Dan Feng take every fleeting glimmer of Yingxing's love and leave Dan Heng with only his hate?

How is he supposed to live, having all these broken, beautiful memories--and still having nothing at all?

[omuricebreakfast]

Kinito X Human Reader mini prompt fic?

Some good friends told me I should post this a while back, and after giving it lots of thought, although i'm not confident in my writing... I figured, Why not! I enjoyed writing this lil prompt fic out even if I don't usually post this type of stuff... So, I hope you guys enjoy it too :] Warning for Panic/Drowning mention? :0 I suppose -----

"Kinito i don't think this is a good--"

Despite your protests he cuts you off before you can say anything more, pressing a finger against your lips and promptly shushing you

"I know what you're thinking but, Just trust me on this."

He extends his hand out to you whilst stepping back into the water getting closer to the deeper ends of the lake. You hesitate for a moment, but eventually do take his hand. Suddenly your heart races as you were promptly pulled down into the water with him. Your mind is full of questions and you almost start to panic when he holds you underneath the water for longer than you had anticipated and starts to drag you down further. You thought to yourself how this was a bad idea- how you'd drown if you stayed down here for too long. But without warning a pair of plump pink lips press against your own, and all of your panic vanishes within an instant. Your mind was now blank, filled with confusion. The man who you thought was going to kill you a few seconds ago was now kissing you and blowing air into your lungs. You could breathe.

What an odd experience this was…

[fanvoidkeith]

the phrase "forcing your beliefs on people", specifically when it comes to respecting trans and nonbinary people, is SUCH BULLSHIT. so many fucking conservatives (including my terrible horrible father) are like "stop forcing your beliefs onto me!!!1!1!!1!1!!1!1!1!!!!!" when you politely tell them "hey i use (set[s] of pronouns), and i use (chosen name[s])". like. hey, chucklefuck, i asked you to respect me as a person, and in response you spit in my face. that says WAY more about the kind of people YOU are than the person i am. smh. be kind or shut your fucking mouth. i'm so tired of hearing this shit. i'm OVER IT. i'm DONE.

[mad-hunts]

[fisheito]

SCREMS my snautsticic child he is trying ok!!!!!! one tiny snake human hybrid built from the cave-ground-up, , attempting to learn all the implicit rules of humanness?! as if it isn't already tough enough out here!!!!

[multicolour-ink]

Do you have headcanons about how Deity Luigi from your AU would show his love towards Daisy? How would he use his powers for her?

Deity AU

For context: Luigi is a celestial god, and Daisy is a forest nymph

Oooohhhh that's an interesting question 🤭 To explain this, I'll break down how their first meeting went.

- Luigi is very cautious about approaching Daisy. It's love at first sight, and he watches from afar for a while before even getting the courage to talk to her.

- He makes himself appear more human, and carefully approaches her while she's walking through the forest. Being only a nymph, Daisy is by natural instinct terrified of him at first. Even though he is in a human form, she can sense something is not mortal about him, and demands that he show her who he really is.

- One thing about Daisy that Luigi has come to learn, is that she is not as submissive or delicate as other nymphs of her kind. She is loud, ferocious, and able to fend for herself. And he is drawn to her.

- Luigi is hesitant, but agrees in order to put her at ease. "Please don't freak out", he says, as he lifts off his mortal disguise and shows himself in his true form

- Even though he is keeping his power in check (so as not to harm her) he is blinding with sheer power alone. Daisy steps back, unsure whether to run away. But then she take a good look at him. And instead of seeing a ruthless god, she sees a gentle soul staring back at her, begging her to stay, to give him a chance. She approaches him and takes his hand in hers. She smiles at him, and instantly his heart soars. She trusts him.

- Luigi visits her regularly in his mortal form, so as to keep her and the forest safe (for a god's power is destructible if not in check), but there is a comforting presence around her at all times in his absence that she identifies as Luigi. For example, while exploring her forest home, Daisy accidently stumbles into hunter's territory, and she is pursued. However, the hunters don't get far before lightning bolts unexpectantly rain down from the sky and strike them down.

- Another time, Daisy is upset that a part of the forest is dying from the lack of rain, so Luigi sends a rainstorm that instantly rejuvenates the flora.

- Another one I want to add because I think it's cute ^^ While Daisy has a power that can make flora grow, she cannot ultimately make the life permanent. Her powers only allow her to assist the forest. When they both agree for Luigi to spend a night with her, she creates a beautiful bedding of flowers of many species and colours ^^ But she is sad, for she explains that by the time they will wake up, the flowers will be dead. Luigi then says they won't, and uses his power to have the flowers be gently dusted in a watery mist (but does not feel wet to the touch). He explains that the flowers are now permanently frozen in a time of life, love, and beauty, and they will never die out 💚💛

[stealthrockdamage]

i'm in this weird spot where i have been single for years and i'd like to date but i am also afraid of people and constantly coming up with excuses not to do it. because really Who Has The Time And Energy

[crimeronan]

🌹

“How does… how does the Emperor talk about her?” Camila asks.

[dnangelic]

(finally able to put a floaty thought i've had into concise words) thematically it's great that dark isn't an actual angel because then he really does become undefinable and incomprehensible to everybody else. an angel is generally recognizable and readily digestible as a concept in people's minds and dark gives off every impression of one; the wings, the inhuman aspects, the grandeur, and yet he's still not one, which plummets him from any graph of divinity and the religious to the realm of the beast; the mysterious and the monstrous.

in other words, there isn't really ever an apt descriptor for what he is apart from vague ones, (let's see you try to encapsulate 'live artwork ripped in half whose out of control magic ended up imbued into the body and bloodline of humans as an entirely second set of DNA and second self' into a defining species---) and when people ask what he is, dark himself only calls himself a thief. he doesn't dare to try to call himself human (with his wings? his teeth, his eyes his talons?? he's obviously "not", and he's acutely aware of the fact too,) yet he doesn't want to go so far as to ever call himself a monster either out of respect for daisuke; his body and heart. (even if he can't stop others from judging or declaring him a monster, anyways.)

when it comes to dark and his 'existence' as something nonhuman, without counting company that gets close to either side, (for example, the rest of the arts like towa or argentine and baku, who are 'pure' live arts,) dark and daisuke truly do exist 'alone' as the sole members of their 'species,' excluding only hiwatari who can be in a friendly or antagonistic space, or other niwa ancestors like daiki or taize, who were once prior but no longer 'are' dark. "satan has his compansions and fellow devils to admire and encourage him, i am solitary and detested -" bittersweetly enough, the closest thing dark and daisuke ever are around others is either a strange monster or a strange human.

[bookwyrminspiration]

the official vacker art should be classified as jumpscares on account of every time I see them I jump and am scares because who the fuck are that