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#love that i can enjoy writing again
deadpatrol · 2 years
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I am writing again :)
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hailsatanacab · 5 months
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Family Dinners - dpxdc
"Holy shit, you're Bruce Wayne!" Danny gaped, jabbing a finger at the man sitting at the head of the table.
The bustling dining room goes silent as everyone turns to look at him.
"Danny, who did you think was going to be here?" Tim asks, disbelief plain in his voice and Danny feels his face flush red.
"Sorry, I, uh, I guess I just never put it together. Tim Drake-Wayne. Wayne Manor. It, uh, makes sense now." He laughs sheepishly and scrubs at his neck before slumping back down into his chair.
"Well," Tim says with an indulgent sigh, "at least I know you're not just friends with me for my connections."
"Yeah, I'm really sorry, I just never thought about it, I guess."
Danny sinks lower as everyone around him laughs. Come to dinner, he said, the food is the best, he said, ignore the family, he said. Danny really wishes he'd listened to Tim and just ignored them—almost as much as he's regretting accepting the offer in the first place—but... he's having dinner with Batman.
Ancients, that's so weird!
The last time he saw Batman was in the future and, suffice it to say, it was not going well. There hadn't really been time for family dinners there.
Wait. Family dinners?
He peers around the table, openly gawking at everyone as it all clicks into place.
"Everything alright, Danny? Now realising who everyone else is?" Tim asks with a roll of his eyes.
"Uh... something like that..." Danny mumbles as everyone laughs again.
From further down the table, the smallest Wayne scoffs and clicks his tongue.
"I thought you said he was smart, Drake?"
"So, you all do it, too, then?" he asks, ignoring the jibe. Danny's only a little bit jealous as he thinks of how much easier they must have it, how much easier it'd be if his family had been on his side, too. "You all work together?"
"Nah," Dick says from across the table with a brilliant grin. "Tim's the only one that works with Bruce, we all have different jobs. I'm a police officer in Bludhaven."
"Disgusting." Danny blurts out without thinking—because seriously, what kind of self-respecting vigilante would also be a police officer?—before clapping a hand over his mouth. "Sorry."
The whole table laughs again, the loudest being the blonde girl a few spaces down from Dick. Look, Danny wasn't really paying attention to names when they were all paraded in front of him. Dick only gets remembered because his name is a joke.
Come on, Danny, recover!
"That's, uh, not what I meant, though."
"Oh?" Dick asks, cocking his head slightly to the side. Is it Danny's imagination or does his smile tense slightly?
"Yeah, I mean like, you know, in costume. It must make it so much easier to have everyone together like this."
"Costume? What do you mean?"
Yeah, Danny's not imagining it, everyone tenses up at that. It's really only now that he's realising that this probably isn't how he should bring up that he knows about their... night time activities. In fact, he probably shouldn't be bringing it up at all.
"Uuhhh..." Danny looks wildly around the table as he continues making his stupid noise. Think, think, think! There must be a way out of this!
"Danny?" Tim asks, looking concerned.
"Oh, Ancients, this isn't how I wanted it to go at all," he mutters, slipping even further into his chair. He's almost on the floor now and he so, so wishes it could just swallow him up.
His real first meeting with Batman was meant to be cool! He had planned to be Phantom, maybe save them from a tight spot, prove his worth as a mysterious and powerful ally as thanks for the help Batman gave him in the future.
"Danny, what are you talking about?" Tim starts tugging on his sleeve in an attempt to pull him back up from his pit of despair.
Eventually, Danny relents and sits up straighter, hiding his face in his hands and whining all the while.
"I'm sorry, I just didn't expect him to be here and it threw me off so now I look stupid and it's so embarrassing!" he wails, flailing his arms wide. "Why wouldn't you warn me that Batman was your adopted dad, Tim? Couldn't you have let me know?"
"I'm sorry, what? Danny are you alright? There's no way Bruce can be Batman, look at him!"
"Yeah," the blonde girl laughs from the bottom of the table, "look at him! That's a wet noodle of a man! Batman can actually do things, B is incapable of pretty much everything."
"Thank you, Stephanie," Bruce sighs, massaging his forehead.
It's... Those are the first words Danny's heard Batman say since everything went down and it's enough to knock him out of his embarrassment.
It's really good to hear his voice again. Especially now, when it's strong and healthy and full of personality—even if that personality is little more than a tired father right now—far better than how it had been, at the end.
Danny sits up, back straight, and grins. He's got this. He remembers it perfectly. Some people count sheep to fall asleep, Danny repeats his mantra to be certain that he'll never forget it.
"Gamma alpha upsilon tau iota mu epsilon, 42, 63, 28, 1 colon 65 dash 9."
Once again, the whole table falls into silence.
"Holy shit..." breathes the other D name (Duke? Danny's pretty sure he's Signal) from opposite Stephanie. "Isn't that...?"
"The time travelling code." The littlest Wayne says stiffly. "We have met in the future?"
"That's not just the time travelling code, Dami." Dick says, looking between Danny and Bruce. "That's the family time travelling code."
Danny's grin freezes in place.
"I'm sorry, what?"
"1 colon 65 dash 9." Dick explains, still flicking between him and Bruce. "It means you've been adopted into the family and we should all treat you as such, no questions asked."
"Tell you what, I'm about to ask a question." Danny says, dumbstruck. "You just told me it was a code to identify time travellers, not anything about being adopted! What the hell, B?"
Bruce looks about as shellshocked as Danny feels.
"We must have been close," he says finally, after opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water a few times.
"No! Not that close!" Danny reels back, taking a deep breath ready to refute it all, but... "Well, I mean, you found me when I first got stuck, and you helped me get better despite being... And then we fought together against the, uh, bad guy, before he, um, he... before you couldn't."
An uncomfortable beat passes while they all pick up on what Danny tried so hard not to say.
"So, you're not from the future, then, you travelled there and came back?" Tim asks, breaking the tension and leaning forward with a glint in his eye.
"Yeah, it was a whole end of the world thing, but don't worry about it," Danny says with a hand wave, "It's all kosher now, won't ever happen."
"What did happen?"
"Seriously, don't worry about it, we cool."
"How long in the future was it?"
"About ten years? You were pretty spry for an old man, B," Danny laughs, wishing they'd get off the topic of what happened and get back to the adoption bit.
Everyone shares degrees of a cautious smile as they relax out of the shock, and Dick—whose grin is the biggest—says, "No wonder you got the family code, you're already riffing on him like one of us. How long were you there for?"
"A week, before I managed to get back to my present and stop him then."
"A week? Jeez, B, that has to set some kind of record, seriously."
"Oh!" Danny says, sitting bolt upright and blinking in surprise before pointing at Dick and bouncing in his seat. "You're Nightwing!"
"What?"
"That's exactly what Nightwing said when Batman told me the code! Makes so much more sense now."
Dick laughs and claps his hands, delighted.
"You were not formally adopted?" The grumpy small one—Dami?—asks, his face pinched.
"I didn't even know I was informally adopted."
"And your parents? Are they alive or dead?"
"Damian, stop—"
"They were dead in the future, but they're alive now." Danny says, looking down. He fiddles with the tablecloth, twisting the fabric around his fingers as he fights down the pang of sadness that he always feels when he thinks of them now. He forces a bright smile on his face and hopes it doesn’t look too strained. "I just, uh, can't talk to them much, anymore."
"Damian," Dick warns, "1 colon 65 dash 9. Treat them as family, no questions asked."
"This is Damian treating him as family, the little turd has no manners." Tim scoffs, rolling his eyes, but he gently bumps shoulders with Danny to knock him out of his funk. Danny can't help but send him a watery smile.
"I have the most exemplary manners, Drake, unlike some people." Damian spits, crossing his arms with a pout. "I was merely ascertaining his status to see how he could possibly fit into the family."
"I know this is all a bit sudden, Danny," Bruce smiles, ignoring Damian and reaching out to lay a warm hand on his arm, "for all of us. But if I felt strongly enough to give you that code after spending a week with you in the future, then you are more than welcome in this family, if you so choose it. I think I can speak for all of us when I say we'd like to get to know you a bit more."
"I know a threat when I hear it, Bruce." Danny snorts. "But, yeah, I get it. I'm sorry this is all so weird, it really wasn't how I wanted to find you again, but... I'm glad I did."
"So are we, Danny." Dick says, with a warm smile. "And formally or not, 1 colon 65 dash 9 means you're family. Welcome to the fun house! No take backs or refunds, sorry. You're stuck with us."
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this is probably one of my favorite outfits that i've ever put together! and it's all for one of my top five fav character designs, like... Ever!
rambles:
i would like to note that my dear beloved Jaime (@/awkwardalphajay here on our very own hellsite<3 check em out <3) helped out a Ton by sending inspiration photos and providing insightful commentary on details and vibes!
overall i wanted Sally to have fancy vibes! while i was originally going to have her fit very much based on her canon one, i wound up veering off course and - while still keeping some elements - mostly went for Medieval Entertainer and Her House insp! continuing with the day/night theme, and leaning heavily into the fire aspect - she's a literal star fallen to earth, after all!
it was suggested that she should have dragonscale used in the making of her clothes since she's, you know, kind of made of fire! and it was genius! I imagine she has extra fire charms on this fit and also the rest of her clothes, since dragonscale is hard to come by and is a finite resource once Gathered. she gets better at Not burning everything she wears over time, thankfully!
i think that, like Frank, she'd have One (1) Dagger. for emergencies! it's likely very ornate, and she'd hate to scuff up the gleaming blade. Probably. plus, why would she need it? she's got firepower, babey!
there isn't quite as much to say about this as usual... mostly because this one was more Vibes than strategic "ok this and this and this because this and also-" i was just! makin a fun outfit!
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occidentaltourist · 4 months
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bbc: Some sweet #Silvacre content for your FYP ❤️
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clowningaroundmars · 1 month
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morales twins hcs
i'm absolutely in love with the idea of miles42 and miles1610 being twins, i'm so glad most of the fandom has basically adopted 42 lmao
some of my own twins headcanons, just random stuff to add onto other ppls hcs ive seen:
☆ 42 loves his mamí absolutely but def acts the most like his dad, and haaaates when anyone points it out. it's the most obvious when 42 gets mad, he sounds EXACTLY like his father then lol
☆ in fact, the twins polar opposite personalities is probs bc 1610 takes after his mom's temperament more, while 42 is as stoic, stubborn and slightly dorky as his dad is
☆ whenever the boys made each other cry (by accident or otherwise) they did the typical little kid thing and tried immediately comforting the other. now that they're older 1610 handles his emotions better and is mature when talking about them, but 42 is the one who comforts 1610 more often
more below ↓
☆ as well as staying on top of his academics, 42 also plays basketball and trains in a couple martial arts studios after school. 1610 is taller than 42 bc of the spider bite but 42 has always been slightly bigger and more muscular than 1610 since he's the athlete. whenever the family attends 42's boxing matches, jeff gets an overwhelming sense of deja vu from back when he attended his own brother's matches before
☆ they both got thru school p okay, not many incidents of bullying mostly bc if anyone did try, 42 would put a stop to that nonsense immediately. 42 loves his bro with his whole heart and was glad to pick a fight with anyone who gave him any trouble at all. the whole neighborhood knew it too bc the only person allowed to bully 1610 is 42 himself!
☆ in fact, 42 doesn't win the lottery to enter visions in the first place, which saddened both brothers when they found out. so because they're at separate schools now, 42 makes sure his twin knows that if any fuckery is afoot at visions that he'd be more than happy to roll up and dogwalk any fool who tries it. 1610 laughs him off but knows his bro has got his back for sure
☆ 42 likes to pretend 1610 is the nerdy one, but they are both very big anime and manga nerds. every time they hit up any bookstore, they both make a beeline for the manga section and argue over who's gonna read the newest one first (they have to share cuz those books cost some moneeyyyy, man)
☆ 1610 and 42 love their uncle to pieces, OFC. they both pick up separate traits from him, even. 42 was inspired to start martial arts and boxing from watching videos on old digital cameras that aaron hung onto thru the years. they were of a much younger aaron back in his boxing days, when his family went to his matches and recorded them from the seats. 1610 was inspired to pick up graffiti and then even started doodling in notebooks bc of aaron
☆ 1610 is def the social butterfly and easily the most popular kid on the block by virtue of how friendly and outgoing he is. 42 is more introverted and keeps a small circle of friends, but everyone is cool with him nonetheless since they fuck with his twin bro
☆ since 42 stays at home the most (lol he a homebody) he picks up cooking much better than 1610 thanks to him staying in the kitchen to help his mom make dinner while they watch telenovelas together. 42 also knows how to dance bachata and salsa much better than 1610 too
☆ both twins love physics and math but 42 is more hardware-inclined. 1610 is about software, data, and formulas. 42 is good at taking things apart, putting things together, building and engineering. he kinda takes after his uncle aaron that way, and drove his parents nuts as a lil kid when he got his hands on radios, computers, clocks, etc
☆ 1610 loves softer brighter music like JID, steve lacy, smino, frank ocean, kid cudi, post malone, and nujabes. 42 is always bumping harder shit like pop smoke, waka flocka, zillakami, three 6 mafia, benny the butcher and some oldies like paul wall, wu tang clan, biggie smalls, MF DOOM and big KRIT. they tease each other's music tastes a lot since they're polar opposites in almost every way
☆ they actually have a shared playlist where they add new music they like (probs on some e-1610 spotify or soundcloud equivalent since everything is slightly skewed on e-1610 tbh). both of them check it periodically, and 42 is the more frequent contributor
☆ they both make art but 1610 is the artsier kid for sure. 42 doodles occasionally but he's not as enthusiastic about it as his twin is. they both go around the city tagging walls whenever they have any free time, though. 1610 loves colors, expressive styles and is good at coming up with cool ways to draw text. 42's lines, accuracy and technical skill can never be beat
☆ 1610 has superpowers, sure, but his fighting skills are trash! 42 was always the scrappy one, not 1610, so he shows his twin how to properly throw punches and other useful fighting knowledge. it def comes in handy in the future
☆ jeff loves his sons to death but he often finds himself butting heads the most with 42 since they're so similar, it kinda drives them both nuts. it def gets worse once aaron starts gossiping abt what jeff used to be like when they were kids, giving 42 plenty of ammo. they love each other but their relationship is just as complicated as it is between jeff and 1610, and 42 would be lying if he said he wasn't affected by the rift between his dad and uncle himself
☆ the minute the twins turn 16, 42 goes out and gets his drivers license on the first try (computer quiz AND road test aced) and rubs it in 1610's face almost constantly. 1610 likes to throw back that there's no parking space for another car on their block, so he can't even get his own car even if he wanted to anyways
☆ whenever the boys really fight, the whole city seems to know. they squabble a lot obvi, they're brothers. but the very few times they've given each other the silent treatment like for real, everyone in the family tries to get them to make up since it's unsettling to see two peas in a pod be so hostile with each other
☆ and since they've always been attached at the hip, 1610 being enrolled into visions felt. weird. everyone thought 1610 was gonna take it the hardest but surprisingly 42 had a harder time adjusting since he always saw his bro in the hallways at school, and was so used to him knowing the latest gossip of anybody in their grade. without 1610 around as often, 42 becomes even more withdrawn than usual
rio looks up from the pot suddenly, glancing at the time. dinner was almost ready and she… hadn't seen not hide nor tail of her son this evening. he returned home from school a couple hours earlier, choosing to skip going to his boxing class to shut himself in his room.
fine. teenagers can be moody sometimes and rio would rather keep her moody son at home where she can keep an eye on him, rather than worry about what he's getting up to on the streets.
strange thing is, though... rio hadn't heard a single noise come out of that room all night. 42 usually liked to have at least some music playing, maybe video game noises out of his nintendo... oh, what was it called again? whatever, that nintendo thing he played on sometimes.
rio placed the lid on the pot and lowered the flame a bit before making her way over to her twin sons' bedroom door, hesitating a bit when she noticed no light was filtering out from the bottom either. okay... that was weird, too. neither of her sons ever went to bed before dinner. ever.
the one time rio dared to try and send her sons to bed without dinner years ago-- as punishment for fighting right there in the kitchen that time-- both twins hollered so loud they got concerned knocks on their front door from various different neighbors. never again, rio remembered thinking that time.
now, the bedroom door stands oddly quiet and completely hollow without any signs of life behind it. rio knocked anyways, hoping against hope itself that 42 didn't go ahead and sneak out of the house without her knowledge. if he did sneak out, he's grounded for 3 months, rio thinks to herself mostly as reassurance. she nervously picks at a nail and strains to hear anything behind the wood.
she thinks she hears a groan and decides to try her luck by slowly opening the door. hopefully he's not in there... y'know, doing teenage boy things, either. dios mío.
rio swings the door open to...
...a completely pitch-black room, save for the sliver of streetlight filtering in past a crack in the window curtains and casting an eerie yellow glow on anything it could touch. it is cold, and also deathly quiet.
rio is shocked.
she walks over to the right side of the room where 42's bed is pushed up against the corner, next to the windows. on that bed lies a big lump, buried under several layers of blankets. the lump stirs.
rio crosses her arms. "mijo, mi amor. are you sleeping? …pero qué te pasa, papí?"¹
42 rolls onto his back and glares sleepily at his concerned mother standing at his bedside. it's dark in the room, but rio's face is illuminated by the living room lights pouring in from the open door. she's wearing a tilted smile, but coupled with the worry lines on her forehead, it isn't fooling anyone.
42 slowly closes his eyes, chin still under the covers, and lets out the most world-weary sigh rio has ever heard coming out of someone as young as him. if it weren't coming from her own son, she might have even laughed.
she immediately sits down, lifting the cover off of 42's chin to check his temperature all over his face. he tries to wriggle away.
"maaaaaa, stop..." he grumbles, trying to pull the covers up higher over his head. "'m not sick, mamí, forreal… chill."
rio leans on a hand. "¿si no 'ta enfermó pues qué es?² what's wrong?"
42 doesn't answer for a bit and rio exhales through her nose. " 'moré, what are you doing in this pitch-black room all by yourself? no light, no music, no nothing. what's wrong? you look like you're on a death bed!"
42 finally opens his eyes again, and blinks a few times as he says, "nothing, ma. seriously, i'm just... tired. that's all. i'm fine."
"you don't look 'fine' 42, you look like 2 seconds away from flatlining."
another sigh from the boy. rio rolls her eyes and places her hand on his forehead again, then strokes his cheek.
"is it 1610? hmm?" rio asks 42. she asks so unbelievably gently, as if by only mentioning his brother's name she would shatter something in the room. a mirror or something.
42's heart clenches at the love and care his mother is showing around this particular topic. it was true, and he couldn't even deny it. having 1610 in the house less and less every week, not seeing him in the hallways at their local high school, receiving sparser and shorter replies to his texts... it was all building up in his chest and the dam was pretty close to bursting. especially now as his mom was lovingly stroking his cheek as she checked in with him. how embarassing. rio wouldn't see him cry, not right now. he closed his eyes and willed the tears away, for her sake.
miraculously, 42's voice didn't crack or waver when he said, "yeah. yeah, i miss 'im."
rio crooned something saccharine in spanish and placed a kiss on her son's forehead. she saw right through his cold tough guy act, as expected. with how much of a mama's boy 42 was, it would've been impossible not to. they spent way too much time together for her to miss how he dragged his feet getting ready for school in the mornings, how he's been skipping martial arts and basketball practice more often lately, and how unenthusiastic he's been in general.
rio chuckles as she lays her cheek on 42's forehead for a second before sitting back up. "ay, bendito. 42, you know your brother is just down a few blocks from here. why don't you go visit him soon?"
42 shuffles under the covers. he's unsure if he should even admit this, but he proceeds anyways. "uhm. he's not answering my texts lately, so." he feels strangely guilty about this, like he just snitched on his twin somehow even though he has no reason to suspect that at all.
rio sighs and looks off into the distance, bracing herself for what she's about to say. she looks back down. "yeah. i know. he doesn't answer mine, either. i was hoping he was talking to you, but... well. "
something in 42 stirs a bit. "i bet he thinks he's in some fancy private school, around rich kids, now he's too good for us," it's a weak attempt at a joke, but rio smiles down at him anyways.
"don't worry. the second he gets home this weekend, he's on house arrest. okay? he's gonna be chained to you the whoooole time. and i'm keepin' watch."
it's not much, but 42 still takes that little bit of hope and holds it gently in his mind.
"the second he walks through that door, i'm tackling him. i don't care." 42 smiles at the thought.
rio laughs, kisses his forehead again and stands up. "dinner is almost ready, by the way." she gives him a look. "you better eat with me tonight, because your brother is at school and your dad is doing overtime tonight. okay? okay."
42 sighs deeply to wake himself up a bit more as he sits up and scratches at his durag. "yeah, yeah. 'm comin', ma!"
¹ "but what is going on with you, papí?" (papí being a common term of affection for a boy in spanish, it doesn't always mean "dad" lol)
² "if you're not sick, then what is it?"
☆ until they get "too old" for halloween, the morales twins ALWAYS wear matching costumes. every year. every single year, no matter what. what they usually end up wearing changes every year and they aaaaaalways argue over it, of course. notable costumes so far: batman and superman (age 13), two ninja turtles (age 9) (im thinking mikey and donatello bc of personality but lbr rio most likely forbade either of them to be leonardo bc the twins would deadass get into a fist fight over it), tom and jerry (age 2), mario and luigi (age 7), woody and buzz (age 5), peter pan and captain hook (age 10), and-- rio's favorite-- thing 1 and thing 2 (age 4)
☆ 42 was surprisingly always very popular with the girls at school. in middle school, 1610 was the geeky one with braces and acne. 42 got off relatively easy in that regard and as a result was labeled "a heartbreaker" from the jump, which annoyed him. he has no interest in dating whatsoever and swore to never get into a relationship before graduating high school. he's got his mom and brother to take care of and he's going places after high school, damnit! 1610 on the other hand is a huge romantic and has a crush on a new person almost every year of school, easily
☆ the literal second 1610 set foot in the house after his spider bite, 42 was all over him asking a million questions since they both have that supernatural twintuition, and 42 sussed him out immediately. 1610 obviously had to come clean and tell his brother he was spiderman just like he told ganke, otherwise he was never gonna be able to change into his spider suit at home (plus they share a room, so. there's that)
1610 didn't even get to close their bedroom door all the way before his twin leaped up from his own bed and stalked over.
"óye, bro. what's up? what happened at visions?" 42 circled his brother, squinty-eyed in the exact same way their mom is when she's suspicious. 1610 dropped his bag next to his bed and plopped down on his sheets, trying to put some distance between them.
"uhhhh what're you talkin' about?" he tries casually, and immediately regrets it.
"uhhhhh what're you talkin' about?" 42 mocks. "don't play dumb with me. you KNOW what i'm talkin' about, stupid. first, you answer, like, none of my texts ever. then dad comes home sayin' you never let him talk face-to-face when he visited you a couple days ago. mamí has been texting and calling you nonstop, no answer either. you are a brand new person now, huh? qué te pasa, yo?"
1610 hunched his shoulders as he got up and slumped over to his desk. he was quietly weighing his options, nervously rearranging papers and sketches on the wooden table, wondering how he was going to break it to his brother that he was--
"lemme guess. you have superpowers now," 42 says easily. he crosses his arms triumphantly when big round amber eyes suddenly turn up to his face.
1610 searches his face for any hint of a joke. no... no way. did his brother just...?
"you're playin' with me. no way. how did you--?"
42's eyes widen. "wait, are you being deadass right now?" he threw his head back and crowed with laughter. "that was just a guess!"
1610 leaped forward and pushed his hand onto 42's mouth, shutting him up. "heeyyy hey hey hey hey shhhhh, man. damn, could you possibly be any louder? look," he took his twin by the shoulders and gave him a slight shake, lowering his voice to a near whisper. "mom and dad can never know anything about this. okay? anything. not a word, you understand?"
42 pushes his brother off. "ok-ay man, cool it. i promise. we can shake on it, even."
wordlessly, they did their super secret handshake they came up with and perfected in the 4th grade in lieu of hooking their pinkies together. it was the morales shake, a move that binds them to secrecy and keeping promises til death. this was serious business. 1610 relaxes a bit once they're done.
"... okay. and i mean it, pencil braids. if you even breathe a word about this, or even think about--!"
"if you don't just tell me already, goddamn."
with a meaningful look thrown at his brother's way, 1610 raises an arm silently. 42 looks back expectantly.
1610 shoots a web up. he jumps up, using the web as a bungee rope to help him flip and land feet-first onto the ceiling. once his sneakers touch their ceiling, he stands up... upside-down. he stares at his brother and his brother stares back, mouth agape.
"niiiiiiice," 42 leans back and grins up at his twin brother, spiderman.
☆ 1610 is glad he has someone besides ganke to talk to about spiderman stuff, though. his brother listens way more attentively than his roommate anyways, and even tries to help sometimes esp when 1610 needs a quick distraction so he can switch from spiderman back into his regular clothes before the parents notice
☆ 42 is surprisingly cool abt his twin bro being spiderman, actually. even when they're texting 42 is careful not to imply 1610 is spiderman, and often calls stuff in to the police station if 1610 webs anyone up and lets him know. he also gets very good at bandaging up wounds quickly
☆ 42 is a hardass on the outside and contains his emotions much better than his twin, but he's kinda different around his family, since he loves them a lot. he jokes around a lot with them, esp around 1610. they also love pranking their parents, and are p creative at coming up with ways to make everyone laugh
☆ i personally picture 42's personality being sort of like huey's from the boondocks, especially around other adults. he becomes withdrawn and speaks very clearly and directly, and is very shy around strangers. some ppl mistake that as him having an attitude problem but his friends and family know better. only difference between huey and 42 is that 42 isn't nearly as woke lmfao
☆ meanwhile, 1610 becomes a motormouth around strangers and is quick to hug and kiss random family members at family reunions. as a lil kid, he'd always be the one up at the counter ordering for the both of them and chatting with the cashiers, or bus drivers, or whoever. as he gets older and used to the spiderman thing, he chats and jokes with randoms a lil less. he has to save the good material for when the mask is on
☆ 42 is a better writer than he is an artist, actually. he has notebooks filled with poetry and lyrics he scribbles down on post-it notes just to stick them in there for safekeeping. he's also been working on a sci-fi story since he was in 6th grade in absolute secrecy; he doesn't want a single soul to see it. he'd be mortified if anyone saw the nerdy shit he comes up with
☆ even tho 1610 has never fought anyone or been scrappy with anyone else, he's very good at wrestling and dodging punches thanks to his brother.
☆ 42 is the more fashion-inclined twin, even tho they're both sneakerheads. 42 just pays more attention to accessories, the fit of his clothing, how to pair the right shoes with the right jacket. 1610 throws on anything comfortable and calls it a day, and it gets even worse after he becomes spiderman. 42 clowns his brother SO HARD after he finds him wearing yellow sweatpants with an oversized red adidas hoodie and a green puffer jacket once (it was when 1610 came home from fighting a shapeshifting lizard that tried to take over cypress hills. the sweatpants were on backwards)
☆ 1610's sense of humor is geeky and he always tries too hard with his quips and jokes. he usually gets "secondhand embarrassment" chuckles from ppl. 42's style of comedy is a mix of dry humor and unintentionally being funny. this dude will say something clever with the straightest face ever and have the ENTIRE room in stitches without even meaning to
☆ just to nail home how different they are, even tho they share a room, you can tell EXACTLY which half of their room begins and ends. 1610's half is cluttered, vibrant, covered in posters and action figures, collages and trinkets on every available surface. 42's is as clean as a hospital room, and he ALWAYS makes his bed every morning. 42 has a poster or 2 hung up but he's not much for decorating in general. he's more into alphabetizing his bookshelf and looking for more efficient storage to put under his bed
☆ when jeff looks at his sons, he sees aaron and himself and sometimes it scares him. when the boys were around 12 (the Evil Year) he made SURE to sign them up for camp trips that summer and keep them close together as much as possible. he hates to see his boys drift apart at all and is the 1st one to call it out if he sees it. he just doesn't want his boys to end up like he and his brother did…
☆ … and then other times? it genuinely makes him feel a combination of irritation and also fondness bc sometimes 1610 and 42 really really remind him of aaron and himself, esp when they were young. ESPECIALLY when they argue. in every playful slap on the shoulder, every arbitrary competition started out of nowhere, every sleepy brother slowly sliding onto the other's shoulder during nighttime car rides, he sees it. he sees them, and then he sees his past. and with every little difference between the boys slowly cracking open like a chasm with each passing day, sometimes he thinks he can even see his future.
☆ 42 is cool or whatever but i also hc he's kinda… weird sometimes. it gets worse when his twin bro goes off to visions, he keeps staring at walls while sitting in dark rooms and eating at weird hours of the day. rio caught him fast asleep practically hanging off the window sill one night, and another time jeff found him having an entire conversation with a brick wall once while on patrol. 42 refuses to answer any questions
☆ after 1610 gets into visions, becomes spiderman, tells his parents abt his plans to go to princeton, etc... 42 eventually starts feeling a type of way (a jealous way…) their parents also seem to pay attention to 1610 more whenever he's home just to add insult to injury. he knows he's not supposed to, but he often finds himself thinking about the prowler gloves and schematics aaron left behind. he managed to grab them and hide them in a gym bag one day while helping his parents clear out aaron's apartment. the tech currently lives under his bed…
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shannonsketches · 24 days
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Why is the anime so weird, it's not even the same series dude?? It's like,
Anime:
GOKU: I have a great idea to bring peace to the universe, and my leadership and compassion alone will unite us all. I have No Flaws and am A True Relatable Everyman :)
VEGETA: NO! I AM THE BEST AND I WILL CAUSE PROBLEMS UNTIL I AM RECOGNIZED AS SUCH!!!!
Manga:
GOKU: Vegeta what's cornmeal made of? I know it's what the corn eats, but what's it made of? VEGETA: Hey Kakarot let's play the quiet game until one of us dies.
#silly hours#I do not understand this writing it's so bad aklsdlkasjd#Toei wants Goku to be Clark Kent SO bad and he SO isn't lmao#they're so good and dumb and rounded and complex in the manga what is the anime so afraid of#Toriyama said 'no no this man is a detached faux-immortal who has a dear pure heart but he's childlike and selfish even though he's kind'#and toei went 'got it goku's never done anything wrong ever in his life'#toriyama said 'Vegeta's gone through a lot and he's finally settling into his more mature leadership role with the confidence he's earned'#and toei said 'got it vegeta has the confidence of a high school bully except now he can interact with his family as a comedy bit'#girl hWHAT#Toei trying to group Goku and Vegeta as two people who would rather train than be with their families and Toriyama said NO Vegeta wants#to be HOME this is the first time in years that he's HAD ONE and it makes him HAPPY to be with his wife and children!!#Vegeta trains so that he can protect the things he doesn't want to lose again and Goku trains because it's the thing that makes him happies#They are NOT the same lmao And yeah Vegeta still wants to beat Goku but he also knows that Gohan could dogwalk both of them if he wanted#He also knows Trunks and Goten are going to surpass them it's not about being the best anymore he's past that he just wants to Not Need Gok#He just doesn't want to have to rely on Goku to save the day he wants to be Enough on his own he just wants to know he can be#because every time it's mattered he WASN'T and people he loved were lost to his inability to protect them and he carries that#Like Whis diagnosed him with anxiety and cptsd out in the open and Beerus said he was self-centered for feeling guilt#+ he lowkey enjoys the rivalry it keeps him goal-oriented so he can't get complacent and lazy which is what triggered his Buu Saga breakdow#realized how Fucked Up it was that having a home and loving family made him feel like he was failing and went 'wait no I won actually??'#now he's chill as fuck in the manga. cool confident leader.#and sometimes he is childish and dumb with Goku as a treat#you know what rocks about his rivalry with Goku in Super though is that it's Playful. Vegeta is learning how to Play.#You ever seen a shelter dog get introduced to a really playful dog and it takes a minute for the shelter dog to understand it's safe here#And then they're both running around the backyard playing hot potato with one braincell?? That's Goku and Vegeta's relationship#and the way the anime sleeps on that dynamic is so fucking criminal especially when it's literally canon it's in print it's out there#you had the playbook how'd you fumble it this bad#anyway that's my 25+ year blorbo thoughts I love Geets a lot okay#And I love Goku in the manga a lot I'd forgotten that he's actually a great character when Toei's not fucking up his whole vibe
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lightningidle · 1 month
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Fig's line "I don't think I'm an artist, I think I'm just a good friend" has not left my head at all. Just...
You're Fig Faeth and your horns came in over the summer and you pick up the bard class as a form of adolescent rock 'n' roll rebellion, and it works! It's exactly the outlet you need! You give a guy you just met drumsticks and you start a band and it's good enough that within a year and a half you're touring. You are, in every sense, good at being a bard.
And then, finally, your junior year, you start to take it seriously. Your art goes from an outlet and a form of rebellion to a practice. A discipline. (Can rebellion exist within a discipline?) Your classmates know what they want to do with their work. They all have a thesis statement. And yeah, there's cohesion in the music you make, but you've never had to think about why you make it. You've never sat down and dissected what it is about bass that speaks to you. You've never poured over your lyrics to pick at any deeper meaning. Why should you? You don't play music for a grand design, you do it to... huh, why do you do it?
(Your art is the one form of self-expression that feels as safe as Disguise Self does, because even if you're pouring your heart onto the page and then screaming it in front of thousands of people, it's not like you're really making yourself known. You can sing I'm lonely, I'm scared, I'm furious, and your fans will sing it right back, and there will still be the distance between performer and audience to keep your heart safe.)
Now you're being asked to look inward to explain the artistic choices you're making, and you can't help but recoil at that, because you'd rather do anything than look inward. Meanwhile, your classmates have no problem with it, so you start to wonder if you're a real artist at all. Can your art be authentic if it only exists to bolster a thesis statement? Has your art been unauthentic this whole time because you've never really thought about a thesis statement before? Is that what makes it art, and not just the next track on somebody's teen angst playlist?
You can't think about yourself— acknowledging your own existence makes you want to puke. So if your music is an extension of yourself, (and it is, even if it's just because the spotlight reveals only what you want it to,) you can't think about your music. You can't. You have to. Your grade depends on it.
You're Fig Faeth, and you keep multiclassing because you'd rather be a good friend than a great artist. If introspection is what great art demands, then fuck it. You must not be a bard at all.
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mjj-nostalgia · 3 months
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"I know it's taken me forever to say in public, even though we've been going for a couple years now - but yes, it's true!"
GIF: AlexyzJacksonHD
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beybuniki · 3 months
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one thing i noticed (form personal experience and by observing other artists) is that the longer you draw and create, the more boring it gets to simply replicate references, especially when it comes to characers' fashion choices.
with bnha, i keep mine pretty simple and basic because teens ARE very trend-loyal, but mainly im just lazy lol, but when i AM motivated, i love to think about characters' personal style, what could influence them, but also more trivial things such as budget into account, which is why i love to draw Deku in basic tees or clothes provided by his school (while bakugo gets to wear ed hardy and shoto wears arcteryx). i also love to limit the items like its just more realistic to me when someone as ordinary as deku wears the same 5 crewnecks all the time
which brings me to my actual point, namely that the more frequently you draw, the more you learn to do research andto combine your findings into sth new rather than staying faithful to one reference, and i think that's what makes good art so good, being able to draw inspiratioin from all kinds of niches and creating something that feels very authentic and suspends the spectator's disbelief. sometimes i see art and i know exactly which fashion editorial or which kpop idol was referenced, and I'm not insinuating these are bad things i do that too (less frequently now but i sure did!), my point is it's kind of nice to see how ALL artist start out with rather derivative art but eventually move on to create more authentic art that is less about drawing beautiful and perfect people and more about trying to individualize them and that ALSO means giving them weird clothes, scars, asymmetric eyes, a receding hairline etc. like drawing the same beautiful character 200 times gets so boring and it's just more fun to try and make them a bit more human
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cerise-on-top · 4 months
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Hi! I hope you've been doing alright!
I was wondering if you could possibly write something for Valeria comforting reader having a bit if a meltdown. Something along the lines of reader being overwhelmed by their job and just the emotions that come with the end of the year, and having Valeria just hug them, maybe do something sweet like surprising them with their favorite treat, etc. because she had been noticing the way reader had been a bit off. essentially some fluffy hurt/comfort <//3
I don't know if that's a bit much, but you're welcome to say no! Anyways, I just want to let you know that your writing is incredibly awesome and I hope that the new year treats you well! You put out a lot of great content but i really hope you're not overworking yourself either, make sure to take breaks and take care of yourself and yeah, ♡
-☆
Anon, unless you tell me to either write the most gruesome thing imaginable or straight up something that is not meant for minors, then I have no problem with any request! I tried to make it good, but I've always struggled with writing dialogue, and for that I am genuinely sorry! I hope it's still enjoyable enough, though! It's more of a fic again than anything else, at a good 3.000 words! I'm wishing you a good 2024 and that the new year may treat you more kindly than the current one has! Best of everything to you, anon! And best of everything to everyone else too, of course!
Valeria Comforting Reader
You had always been a strong person in Valeria’s eyes. You had to be in order to be with someone like her, after all. Caring for someone so vile in many people’s eyes, knowing fully well of her business, it was in spite of all of that you stayed with her. The way she could come home to you, giving it your all at work, giving her that kind smile of yours she was certain she didn’t quite deserve, it made even someone of her caliber a bit softer than usual. For as little as she cared about anyone else, wishing to have most people’s head on a stake at this point, if you gave her the command, she’d burn down every inch of this sorry planet just to see you smile again, just to watch the flames of life dance in your eyes. And from the ashes she’d raise something new, something better than what was right now. Valeria knew she could count on you, no matter what, but she hoped you did the same for her too.
Your eyes used to be full of vivacity, so lively whenever you got to see her, there was you trilling a song like a nightingale when you made her a cherry pie, from time to time she had to shut you up considering you never stopped talking whenever she came home. Bloody Valeria, who knows how many people she has killed? How many people would continue to suffer because of her selfishness? She had been called many things, a witch, a wench, a worthless wanton. But in those beautiful eyes of yours? The way you’d call her over, using sickeningly sweet nicknames in Spanish you picked up from somewhere. “Mi alma, mi tesoro, how is the most beautiful wife in this universe doing?” Granted, Valeria cringed when you suddenly started speaking Spanish to her of all people, but even so, she had to admit, you were so adorable, leaving her no choice but to respond in nothing but Spanish for the evening to compensate.
But even among the lovely banter the two of you often found yourselves in, it wasn’t enough to keep the light in your eyes from extinguishing. Your beautiful voice became rarer and rarer until you only spoke when spoken to. Whereas Valeria would once need to tell you to stop hugging her in public, these days she was happy if you as much as grabbed her hand while you were both seated on the couch. What happened to you? She wanted to know, she needed to know, but you wouldn’t budge. Whatever weighed on you took its toll on you, it wasn’t something Valeria could just fix with money, it seemed. A forced smile, empty eyes. Ever since you started that new job of yours a while ago, it seemed to never end for you.
Even as she sent one of her trusted people out to check on you, you were wary, knowing fully well about the dangers Las Almas posed to anyone living there, especially Valeria. You did not hesitate to tell her about that odd person coming to your workplace, that man could have been anyone, could have killed her. She was grateful, to have you be this open with her on a matter that concerned her, but in the same breath she cursed you for not taking better care of yourself. If she could, she would have come to your workplace to kill your boss, your superior, anyone giving you a hard time yourself. But alas, Los Vaqueros were on her heels again. And thus, she fled for another few weeks, leaving you alone in your unbearable misery. By no means was Valeria a traditionally affectionate person, but if she had to be more “normal” in that regard to see your happiness again, she could try.
The new year seemed nice around this year, with the first of January being on a Monday. The beginning of the year was also the beginning of a new week. Valeria could have stalled for time, waiting until it was midnight, but she decided to come home to you without intervention this time. That she decided until she found a small bakery, run by an elderly lady and her husband, that she had known for a while. Evening of the 30th, the shop was just about to close up when Valeria drove by, stopping right in front of it. The couple didn’t seem to mind her being here this late, giving her the usual wishes for a new year. May she be healthy, may she be happy. Lovely, if only such a thing would hold true for you instead. The wares seemed promising, obviously homemade. The bright, white cake with the strawberries on top seemed to catch her eyes. There weren’t many baked goods left, namely some cakes, some cookies and some rolls, but that tres leches looked delicious.
It didn’t take long for her to have bought the little treat. Enough for you, enough for her. Maybe such could cheer you up, if just a little bit.
The night was cold this time, with the clouds not covering a single bit of the sky. The moon was waning once again, leaving behind the world for its own purposes, leaving it in the dark where anyone and anything could be hiding. For all Valeria knew, someone could decide to try and pick a fight with her right now. Someone would die, but it wouldn’t be her. Never her, she had someone to come home to, after all. Whatever slug decided to rob her on a night like this, they would come to regret their mother’s birth. However, as she got closer to your little abode, she couldn’t help but worry. What if it wasn’t her to get hurt, but you instead? By no means would that be likely, hidden away like the treasure you were, for her eyes only, but it wasn’t impossible. Valeria pressed harder on the gas pedal.
Only when she saw the lights on this late did she finally calm down a bit. You were home, everything seemed in order. With the cake in one hand and her keys in the other, she unlocked the door, pushing it open. She had every reason to be mad at the incompetence she had to work with on the daily, but somehow, she had even more reason to be worried about you. Her worries were only reinforced when she heard quiet sobs coming from the living room. Normally, she’d burst right in, her revolver in hand. But this time? No weapon in the world could fight your demons, she could only watch as you tried your hardest to fight another day, to make it through alive and somewhat well.
Slowly, she opened the door this time as well, making just enough noise for you to take notice of her. Like a deer in headlights, you stared at her, choking back another sob. Clearly, you didn’t expect her to be home this early at all, but it didn’t matter. You seemed scared, ashamed even, as your mouth hung open, trying to find the right words to say. Regardless of what it was that would leave your mouth, Valeria wouldn’t get mad, not this time. Having put down the tres leches, she turned to you, approaching you slowly so as to not startle you. Your eyes were red and puffy, your voice hoarse as you finally spoke. You wiped away your tears, giving her a forced smile, like you had been for a while.
“Valeria, welcome back! How are you doing?”
Your voice was barely above a whisper, trying your hardest to not make it as obvious that you had been crying. A futile attempt, but an attempt nevertheless. If she could have, Valeria would have wrung out your little heart, ridding you of your demons if just for this weekend, but alas. Sitting down next to you on the couch, she took one hand of yours in hers, the other arm slung around your shoulders.
“Cariño, what’s the matter? I’m not mad, I promise, I just wanna know.”
Your mouth formed an o, clearly trying to think of a bullshit excuse she wasn’t going to buy anyway. “Be honest with me!” Valeria’s voice was calm, even if she could feel the anger bubbling up inside of her. Whatever was eating at you, gnawing at your mind and your heart, you were going to tell her, preferably tonight.
Holding onto her hand, you squeezed it, looking away for a moment. She had her nails done that pretty pink again, the color you always liked so much on her. But even so, it was apparent you didn’t know what to say. Rather sooner than later, you had to come clean to her eventually. You had joked about it, but one of these days Valeria might just interrogate you for your mental wellbeing, counterproductive as that might be. Tears welled up in your eyes again as you bit your lips, hoping to seem just a tad bit less pathetic than before. Valeria was so strong, you had always been a joke in comparison.
“You know, you’re actually really tough, Valeria. You’re always on the move, always evading the bad guys, always doing what needs to be done in order for the both of us to have a good life. But look at me: I can’t even work properly without my co-workers trampling all over me. Every day I have to endure things that no one wants to put up with, every day I can’t say no to them even if I tried. Sometimes I do wish I was more like you, really. It’s just… I haven’t accomplished anything. Nothing I do seems to matter. This year was awful, and I have little hope that the next one will be any better. As much as I love you, Valeria, and you know that I adore you, I hope you’ll find someone better next year. Someone who’s worthy of having you around, someone who won’t bitch and cry over every single little thing. I’m a weak and pathetic little loser who’s nothing like you. Can’t say no, and it’s slowly killing me. I want to just run away forever, never to be seen again, and become a cryptid of sorts. I fucking hate myself, I hate this miserable, shitty planet I was born on, and I hope next year is going to be my last! I don’t think I can make it through another one.”
For a second, even Valeria was quiet, not thinking it was going to be this bad. She knew you were unhappy, but she didn’t think you were hoping to die this soon. You and her had your entire lives ahead of you, preferably together. There was no way Valeria could let something like this just slide. This was something big and important, not something you should just sweep under the rug and never talk about.
Valeria removed her arm and hand from yours, only to grab your face, cradling it somewhat roughly, to make sure you would look at her. Despite never having been an emotional person, this was important. You were going to look at her, no matter how much you protested, wanting to look away, and you were going to listen too.
“Don’t you dare say something like this ever again, you hear me? You’re going to live alongside me, and you’re going to live well. If I have to kill all of your co-workers myself, I will. You’re the last person that should die on this rotten planet. I had to live this long without you in it, you’ll be okay, I’ll make sure of it. But don’t you fucking dare ever think about dying again, alright? If your boss is a bastard, who gives a shit. Same for your co-workers. You need a job? A good one you’ll enjoy with nice people? Cariño, I can get you in just about anywhere. You wanna work at a bakery? At an elementary school? You wanna work an office job? Hell, if you want I’ll make sure you’ll get to do home office whenever you need it too, but you’re not going to leave me alone just like that. The next year is going to be good to you, and it won’t be a matter of if. It’ll be a matter of when, and at my command, a good year for you will start on Monday, and that’s final.”
Her voice was almost loud, she was clearly mad. Not at you, you could never do any wrong in her eyes, but at the people who made you feel this way about yourself, about everything regarding you. It scared you, you wanted to pull away, but her grasp on you grew stronger. She meant well, you knew that much, but never did you think you could make her this mad. You were gentle, you were kind, and that also showed in how Valeria would treat you. You weren’t some kind of replaceable lackey, Valeria would never find someone like you again.
Your eyes were wide in fear and Valeria’s expression softened up a bit. “Look, I’m sorry for scaring you like that. But I need you to understand that you’re scaring me too when you say things like that. We’ll get through this together. You quit your job, we’re gonna find you a new one with good people that you can enjoy. Nothing bad is gonna happen to you next year, that I’m going to make sure myself. I’ll try to take off more days, try to get more time for you so we can be together. But please don’t do anything too rash, please don’t do anything dumb. I wouldn’t know what to do with myself if I lost you. Alright?”
Once again, you teared up, but this time you couldn’t look away either, Valeria was still holding you.
“Alright?”
“Alright, fine. Valeria, I’m so sorry.” Your voice was quiet, broken by your current circumstances. When was the last time someone cared about you like this? Valeria was the most dangerous woman in the country, and yet here she was, comforting a little no one like you who happened to meet her by happenstance. You didn’t bite back your sobs this time, letting it all out instead. It’s not like it was the first time she had ever seen you cry, but you wished it would be the last time. This was humiliating, even if your wife had found you in much worse situations. You closed your eyes, letting your tears fall freely.
“Please don’t apologize.” She placed a gentle kiss on your forehead before giving you a long and tight hug. A token example of how she cared for you. Despite not being one for physical affection, even she couldn’t deny you a hug when you were downright miserable. Although she wasn’t usually very warm, something about tonight, maybe it was the feeling of being disposable, made you feel warmer than usual. Valeria was by no means a kind woman normally, but somehow, you got to see this side of her that was unknown to everyone else. You knew she was the one for you.
Maybe leaving her alone would have been such a cruel thing of you after all. The way she held you when she was drunk, the way she’d kiss you when she finally got home after months of not seeing you, the way she’d look at you when she thinks you aren’t looking, it was all reminiscent of a fantasy you dreamed about when you were younger. Maybe you really didn’t need a hero, the villainess worked just fine for you. She held you like you were the most worthwhile treasure in the world. A hero would never do that, a hero would likely die to attain some silly goal. Valeria was different from that, she would litter the world with the corpses of those who wronged you. It was a challenging sort of love, but it was love nevertheless. You wanted to show her the same kind of love. Maybe you weren’t ready to kill someone for her just yet, but if it ever came down to it, maybe you could try to live again. Perhaps not for yourself as you were right now, but for Valeria. She was worth more than a planet made of pure diamonds.
Eventually, your sobs turned to sniffles, your sniffles died down. Valeria never stopped holding you until you had finally calmed down. It felt surprisingly good, letting it all out for once, not having to worry about being judged. Not many words were exchanged that evening, but they were sincere. Valeria loved you, you loved Valeria, it was that simple. You were going to remind yourself of that fact for the rest of eternity if you had to. Until you never had to actively think about that again, until it was that ingrained into your mind.
“Do you want some tres leches? I got some just for you on the way back home.”
You still held onto her shoulders, giving her the first proper smile of the evening. “You spend too much money on me, and you know it.” You playfully and lightly hit her chest, giving her a bashful look. “But, you know, I wouldn’t say no to it either.”
“There’s that beautiful smile, mi bello amor.” Once again, she cradled your face, this time much more gently than before. Once again, she gave you a quick kiss to your cheek before getting up to get the cake. Naturally, you followed suit, allowing her to take the lead as she always had. “Do you want the big piece or the small one?”
“I want you to have the big piece for being the best wife out there!”
“Wrong answer, you get the big one.” And with that, two plates and two forks had been prepared, each filled with some delicious, beautiful cake.
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emmavakarian-theirin · 4 months
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hiiiiiii i've fallen back into dragon age hell (origins, specifically) if anyone wants to DISCUSS things i am here
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hailsatanacab · 1 year
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"give me a fandom and a prompt and i'll give you at least five sentences"
Ok then.
Jazz, Danny and Bruce are in the same age range, and Bruce has been harboring a massive crush on 7'foot tall Jazz since just after he began his training journey.
His kids know about and are mercyless. Danny thinks he's a bit of a fruit loop and 100% knows Bruce has a crush on his sister.
Into the future his coworkers find out that batman has been quietly pining after the Ghost Kings sister for years.
Chaos.
love that this reads as a challenge. Ok then. Write it. i will, let's goooo!
(sorry i kinda took it so that Jazz, Danny, and Bruce were all old friends but in that horrible adult way where you can only hang out with each other once in a blue moon when your work schedules miraculously align)
——
"Respectfully, Batman, you can take your "it's not necessary" and you can shove it up your arse. There's a demon the size of a skyscraper heading towards Metropolis and we need reinforcements."
"Superman can—"
"Superman can't. You do remember the part of the report I made telling you this, right? Or did your stubborn little bat brain just shut down when I mentioned magic?"
"Actually," Nightwing interrupts from the side, a shit-eating grin on his face, "I think his brain shut down when you mentioned the Ghost King."
"Nightwing." Batman growls in warning, his jaw clenching so hard Constantine can swear he hears the bones creaking.
Nightwing just snickers, and turns away to press a finger to his ear, no doubt letting the rest of the bat brood in on what's happening here... Whatever that is. All Constantine knows is that Batman is standing between him and fixing this mess for no God-forsaken reason.
Luckily, some of the more reasonable members of the League step in to try and talk some sense into Batman. It gives him some time to calm down.
"Batman. We need him. I know you dislike working with unknowns, but he's our best shot."
It actually looks like Wonder Woman might be getting through to him, Batman even opens his mouth to actually explain some things—a huge step forward for this incredibly emotionally constipated man.
Instead, Nightwing snorts and beats him to it. "Unknowns? More like—"
"Nightwing, please."
"Oh, for Pete's sake, get your head out of your arse and let me do this. The Ghost King is our only hope. I'm summoning him, no matter what you say."
For a long second, Constantine thinks that he'll refuse and he might have to resort to more violent methods of persuasion—which, honestly, Constantine has fantasised about many times during the more boring JL meetings—but eventually, Batman relents and steps out of the way.
"Fine. Nightwing, go check in with Red Robin."
Nightwing has the kind of devious smile that makes John glad he doesn't have kids.
"Oh, don't worry about it, B. Red Robin's coming here. So's Red Hood, I don't need to go anywhere."
"Nightwing—"
"Sh, it's starting." So saying, Nightwing then very obviously ignores Batman's protests with a poker face that even Constantine envies. What he wouldn't give to be able to shut the bat out like that.
The summoning goes quickly, thankfully. The lights flicker, the temperature drops, and the chalk circle erupts in green flames. Standard summoning practices, sure. Even the impromptu appearance of Red Hood and Red Robin—"Did we miss him?", "No, not yet! I got 2:37, what about you guys?"—doesn't throw him off.
It does pique his interest, though. Just what the hell is going on with them? Constantine's weighing up the pros and cons of asking them once all of this is over when the ground splits open and the clawed hand of the Ghost King begins to pull himself out of the ground.
John's a seasoned summoner. It's practically his job, he's done it countless times.
The icey fear that grips his heart, that freezes his breath in his chest, is new.
Pure, unadulterated power floods the area and he feels small, so, so small, like a child playing with things he doesn't understand. When he finally tears his eyes away from the portal, he catches a glimpse of the other magic users in the room, the same horror he feels clear in their faces. Even Captain Marvel stares slackjawed.
The pressure rises, death magic screaming in his ears, almost forcing him to his knees, and suddenly he's not so sure this is a good idea.
Too late to back out now, though.
Sickly green light pours from the crack in the ground, growing brighter and brighter as the giant figure rises, until Constantine has to close his eyes and look away. The last thing he sees are eyes, teeth, horns, a crown so bright that it burns an afterimage into his retinas.
When the light dies down and he opens his eyes again, a humanoid man floats in the centre of the circle. The ground is whole, nothing is burning, the man doesn't even have a crown. Instead, other than the wispy white hair, slightly green skin, and the—you know—floating, the Ghost King appears pretty normal. Huh.
Constantine blinks, rubbing his bleary eyes, and checks around to make sure everyone's okay. Most of the League are doing the same as him, taking fortifying breaths and trying to appear as if they've not just been completely blinded.
Most of them, that is, aside from the Gotham vigilantes.
Batman himself stands upright, arms crossed, looking completely unbothered by the whole thing and John's got to admit, he wishes he could do that, too. That was... a hell of a show.
The others, however, are waving frantically with huge smiles on their faces.
What?
There's a brief, taut silence, as everyone else tries to catch their breath.
As much as he would rather take a bit of a breather, John should probably start making introductions. Unfortunately, he only gets as far as opening his mouth before the Ghost King beats him to it.
"Oh, Ancients, hey guys! It's been forever, how are you? Look at you all, so grown up, wow—Nightwing, buddy, do a flip!"
It doesn't take much to get Nightwing going, and he certainly doesn't leave it at one flip. The whole of the Justice League and Justice League Dark watch with open mouths as Nightwing performs for the Ghost King.
What, and John can't stress this enough, the fuck?
As soon as Nightwing rights himself, Red Hood swats him across the back of the head and calls him a show off.
The Ghost King just laughs as he claps. "There's my little monkey, look at you go! And I'm loving that leather jacket, Hood, is that new? Looks good on you, really your colour. Brings out the red in your helmet."
"Thanks, Uncle D. At least someone around here appreciates fashion."
"Are you kidding me, you know I breathe fashion, need I remind—"
"Need I remind you of the Discowing incident?"
"That was era-appropriate and you know it! Uncle D, tell him it was era-appropriate!"
"It was era-appropriate, but so are crocs and it doesn't make them fashionable." The Ghost King—and holy shit, is this actually the Ghost King? Or did Constantine just accidentally summon a deceased family member, what the fuck is happening here?—turns to look at Red Robin with a smile, resolutely ignorning the argument he created. "How you doing, Double R? You get that tablet Tucker made for you?"
"Yes, thank you! It's so cool, how did he—"
"How's Tucker doing?" Batman interrupts, his hands now hidden underneath his cape.
As soon as the question leaves his lips, everyone groans. Red Robin makes a show of lifting up his wrist and staring at it intently.
"Incredible," Red Hood mutters with a shake of his head.
Even the Ghost King seems put out, rolling his eyes and answering in a flat tone as if he knows Batman isn't interested in what he has to say.
Not for the first time, Constantine feels like he's missing something.
"Tucker's doing very well, thank you for asking."
What follows is the most awkward silence Constantine has ever had the pleasure to be a part of.
All three of the Gotham vigilantes, including the Ghost King, are staring at Batman, waiting for something. Batman's cloak shifts as if he's moving his hands, fidgeting. If Constantine didn't know any better, he'd say he was nervous.
"Good. That's good, I'm glad to hear it."
Instead of saying anything else, the Ghost King just raises his eyebrows and continues to stare at Batman. Has he offended him in some way? Are they all going to die because of this?
After what seems like an agonising few minutes but could only really be a few seconds, Batman's shoulders dip and he takes a breath. "And Jazz?"
They all erupt into shouts, the Ghost King being the loudest. The only thing John can make out is when the Ghost King throws his hand in the air to point at Red Robin with a shout of "Time!"
"1:30.91, we got 1:30.91 on the clock, who's closest?"
"Did you even try to hold it in at all, old man? I'm so disappointed in you. People think you're cool. People think you're suave, I don't understand how they could be so wrong."
"Thank you for that, Hood."
"No, thank you, I won. Again. Because you're so predictable. Actually, I had one minute seventeen, so you held out longer than I thought you would."
Batman pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs loudly.
Constantine feels like doing the same thing.
Whatever. He's going to have to interrupt... whatever this is. There's still a rampaging demon heading their way that they've got to bargain for. He can untangle Batman's personal connection to the Ghost King later. Or he could leave it alone and forget everything about it.
Yeah, he'll do that one.
But before he can actually open his mouth to say anything, the Ghost King, again, beats him to it.
"So, B-Man, did you summon me here for a particular reason, or was it really just so you could ask about Jazz?"
There's a beat of silence before Batman mutters, "I asked about Tucker, too. We've not seen each other in so long, it's only polite."
"And I'm sure you meant it, you're the paragon of manners." The Ghost King nods slow and wide-eyed as if he doesn't believe him at all.
At this point, even Constantine doesn't believe him.
"It has been forever, though." The Ghost King muses, bringing his hand to his chin and folding his legs underneath him. "We should all get together sometime! If you get Alfie to make some of his cookies again, I'll get Clockwork to lend us a pocket dimension where we can spend as much time as we want, deal?"
"It's a deal."
No hesitation at all, incredible.
Hold on. Wait. John has to fight the urge to pinch himself, because this has to be a dream, right? Is Batman actually smiling? He didn't even know he could do that.
An itch niggles at the back of John's mind. He's starting to get an inkling of what's going on here and it's... weird, to say the least.
"Oooh," Nightwing singsongs, like a child in a playground tickled by the very idea of romance.
But then, who's he to judge? John's no stranger to strange bedfellows, that's for sure. Whoever this Jazz is, she must be something incredible—she'd have to be, if Batman can't even go two minutes without asking about her.
"Batman and Jasmine sitting in a tree," Nightwing continues, with both Red Hood and Red Robin joining in for the rest. "K—I—S—S—I—"
"Stop," Batman growls, completely drowned out by the Ghost King's laughter, but...
But.
It all suddenly clicks for John.
The Ghost King Phantom.
Her Royal Highness, Princess Jasmine Phantom.
Jazz.
"Holy shit, mate," John breathes, unable to stop himself as everyone looks his way. "You have the hots for the Princess of the Infinite Realms?"
The Justice League meeting room has never descended into chaos quicker.
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cowsaresushi-coral · 1 year
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oh, also while going through my 2022 file, i realized i never posted this.
enjoy this sketch. funny to compare my 2020 tpoh art to my end of 2022 tpoh art.
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cloudcountry · 9 months
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i'm noticing that when people request things and i write it for them, sometimes the people i write for dont reblog or give me any feedback. ^^ its starting to get a bit irritating when i take the time to write something and i just get a like from the person. the twst fandom has been talking about this since forever but literally the least you can do is reblog. seriously.
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sunsetzer · 3 months
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When I finally hit perfection on switch I am buying stardew valley for pc so I can mod it. I would love some mod recommendations but also want to keep in mind that my poor laptop is nine whole years old and wheezes even running webkinz when I get the sudden urge to play it and I'm pretty sure too many mods would kill it lmao
Note: I know y*ndere elliott is a popular one (censored bc I don't want this showing up in the tag out of respect for those who actually enjoy it,) but that trope is genuinely triggering for me thanks to a terrible friend I had as a teenager so that's already in the no pile haha
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donghuamuqing · 11 months
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Mike is an immortal god-prince that falls in love with will, who is a poor mortal artist, after seeing a painting done by him depicting mike not as a chiseled statue of fierce stoicism and perfection, but the most like a human mike has ever seen before.
It looks like mike and it feels like mike and he demands to see the artist. They go into the friendship (though they both wish it was something more) knowing mike is a god but he was planning to make will a god alongside him or raise him up as a divine patron of the arts like a muse. However, somehow, will dies. He dies away from mike, either traveling towards him or meeting him somewhere. Mike catches glimpses of his ghost, sees him in the masters’ art studios, markets, arenas, theaters, and dance halls. He sees him everywhere but they never speak. Mike chases and chases after him wanting to be together again since will is technically still here, however will knows hes only still around because he has unfinished business with mike. He knows that if they talk, they reconcile and confess, wills reason for staying is no longer tying him down and he can “move on,” so to say. He knows that if they speak, he’ll never see mike again and he cant stand to let that happen.
And so the chase continues.
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