what does corbeau testing poisons on himself look like👁👁
just a hobby of his <3
- corbeau works in small doses, researching each poison (even though for a majority of them, the effects of such poisons on humans was limited) before trying it. in the beginning, it was just painful, where symptoms of nausea, dizziness, and slight paralysis at times.
- despite that, corbeau was still intensely interested in knowing about how each poison differed in effects and kept going at it, despite adder voicing his concern over his habit sksksk
- after some time his body built up a slight immunity so he either has to work with larger doses or rather than pain or dizziness, corbeau just gets a sort of high from it sksks
Danny’s exasperated anger was punctuated by a sharp ecto shotgun blast into the nearest tank the GIW had amassed. They were still trying to destroy the Infinite Realms, new agents having convinced the older ones that the Infinite Realms being connected to their realm was a hoax to keep them from following through. Jazz, Sam, and Tucker were all barricaded behind what remained of their equipment, so it was only Danny and Danielle who remained amidst this reality ripped in between the two realms that GIW’s stupid equipment had created. Yet once again Danny wasn’t able to continue his attack, getting cut off by a mostly startled scream from Danielle as they once again focused their fire on her. First it had been the humans of the team, now it was Danielle, and it was really starting to piss Danny off.
“Stop targeting her you sick bastards! She’s fourteen!” Danny belted, flying yet again between their weapons and Danielle, and blasting the cannon with a prolonged stream of ectoplasm to bend its course. They would soon shift it back to pointing at them, but at least that took a few seconds.
“So you claim. Yet the only thing it means for us is that she’s a liability for you. You’re the stronger one, but you’ll let your guard down for her. A pathetic imitation of humanity that may have won over the Fentons, but not us. We know you’re nothing but an imitation of humans made by nothing more than destructive residue.” That was Operative N, the new blood that had worked up the ranks. Danny liked to call him Nimrod.
“We’re not faking it!” Danny shouted back, feeling his voice crack with the desperate protest. “SOME ghosts are residue, but others are just as sentient and full of good emotions as humans are.” If only he could turn this stupid human into a ghost so he could see it too. But life, even stupid life, was too precious to waste just to prove a point.
“....Test run the experiment,” Operative N directed, unfazed by Danny’s outburst. The Operative next to him stepped forward as others to the sides of them started firing a barrage of ectoblasts their way. It was a distraction to keep their attention, Danny knew that. But Danielle still wasn’t as good as he was, and he didn’t miss the way the experimental blaster pulsed red instead of green. He couldn’t let Danielle get hit by that, so when she let out another yelped scream, getting hit by three ectoblasts, Danny flung himself into her when the other Operative took that as an opening.
The experimental blaster was faster than the originals, and Danny didn’t have time to bring up a shield after body slamming Danielle away. He could only tense in preparation for the damage, knowing he could handle more than Danielle could when it came to a beating.
He wasn’t ready for this.
The bloody red blast of energy wasn’t ectoplasm, and when it slammed into Danny’s chest his voice ripped from him in a startled scream of agony as he realized what they had done. The barbed wire poison splitting his ghostly skin held a familiar scorching dry flame feeling that he’d only experienced once before, a hand flying to his ribs as he crashed to the ground and couldn’t help curling into a ball, deaf to his friends’ and family’s cries for him.
Those freaks had weaponized blood blossoms.
It was worse than being trapped in a barrier of them, the poison now sank into his flesh instead of caressing it with noxious fumes. The fight wasn’t over though, so he willed his twitching limbs to work as he wanted them to, shoving them underneath himself to push himself upright, never mind the green blood dripping from his side.
“There we go,” Operative N commented emotionlessly, motioning with his hand to another Operative. “Use him now.”
That was the only warning Danny had before a clamp half his size snapped down on top of him, binding him in its case and pulling him from the broken ground. Danny let out a strangled noise as his arm was smashed against his injured ribs, legs scrambling to try and remain connected to the soil and feeling the anti ghost barrier keeping him trapped in the prickly bindings. It was only when he heard a slight click, and the fat needles poking into his skin started ripping energy from him that he vaguely remembered something about them using him as a battery for their machine. They obviously didn’t care how it treated him either, for Danny could swear getting electrocuted hurt less.
“Scream all you want, Phantom. Not even you could break out of there now that we’ve worn you down,” Operative N commented, having the audacity to sound bored.
Danny barely registered Danielle repeatedly sinking what power she could into the clamp that had a hold of him, but it didn’t seem effective. He hadn’t wanted to resort to blowing everything up, not sure what the machines would do to the realms they were connected to if they burst from overload.
But at this point he didn’t see any other option. If the realms were going to blow up, then he’d rather they blow up because he tried to save them.
If you want to hear me scream, then I’ll scream.
Danny’s defiant thought was accompanied by him forcing his mouth to snap shut, struggling with half stifled gasps to fill his lungs with as much air as they could hold. It took a minute too long, but as soon as he maxed out the air he could hold Danny forced it out again in a drawn out wail.
Jazz had expressed before that she hated hearing Danny’s ghostly wail. She’d even commented that the name itself seemed like a pathetic attempt to calm the fears of children when stories were told about it. As Danny’s abilities had advanced the wail became less of a B movie imitation of ghosts and more of a source of nightmares. A distorted sound of burst eardrum silence smothered by shrieking similar to subtle tinnitus, but with the undertone of the voices of those who had died screaming.
Jazz always heard her brother’s voice over the others.
This was the first time Danny had fully figured out how to make his wail non directional. An orb of earth shattering sound rippling in waves from his form, crushing the machines around them like sealed cans dropped in liquid nitrogen. The only reason his allies weren’t hurt was because the waves were strangely more gentle in their direction, just enough that Danielle could hold a barrier over them while they pressed their palms to their ears, collapsing to their knees.
The wailing only lasted slightly less than two minutes, but the chain reaction explosions continued for several more. As soon as the device holding him was broken Danny let out a ripple of ectoplasm to shatter it. Then soft coils snapped out and wrapped around his allies, dragging them closer to his floating form where he could raise a shield around all of them.
Sam took charge of shielding Tucker and Danielle with her own body as realm rending explosions thrashed their tiny bubble to and fro. Danny was able to keep them from being thrown against the sides of the barrier, but none of them could even attempt to stand with all the vibrations of varying intensities. Jazz stole as long of a look at Danny as she could since she couldn’t do anything else, feeling her heart skip a beat when she saw the hole punched into the left side of his chest, blast marks searing out from it to cover his shoulder and nick his cheek. All of the wounds were oozing the green blood Danny had as Phantom, but he didn’t seem to be paying them any mind.
Another sharp, shuddering jerk signaled the end of their whirlwind ride, and suddenly the group had perfectly still, solid ground under them and silence ringing in their ears. It was deafening, in a good way compared to the wail from before, and Jazz heard the others mimic her shuddering breaths. But before she could visually check on her brother she heard him fall. Nothing like the exhausted drops he did when he couldn’t quite make it to the ground before letting gravity take hold of him again. It was the heavy crumple of a human body being dumped. And as Jazz snapped her head up Danny’s face fell into her view, his eyes closed and figure completely limp. Jazz watched his cheeks drain from color as a new spot of red bloomed across his white shirt, and her voice refused to speak.
Scrambling to her baby brother, Jazz cupped a hand to his cheek, horrified at the rapidly dropping temperature of his skin and using her other hand to shake his shoulder as roughly as she dared. Her voice found itself in moments to scream what had been repeating in her head.
“DANNY!”
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IIiiii am not immune to brain rot |D If you’re confused, good, I am too
Today my brain chose violence, and gave me some of the details of what led to the DP team getting ported to DC verse. So I wrote them while spamming the same 6 songs X’D And then I drew 2 pictures because I wanted both vibes.
This is getting way more attention that I even guessed might happen * wheeze *, so just a few disclaimers just so people are aware:
the DP crew are 2 years older than in the cartoon. because I can
Jack and Maddie are becoming really good parents. Because I’m tired of the “omg I’m a teenager and my parents suck” trope. They know Danny and Danielle are halfas, and it took them about a year to fully accept that. Now they’re rewriting studies to support sentient ghosts and more humane ways to deal with the violent ones.
It’s only in the recent months that they’ve started to actually study ways to help ghosts/halfas. So a lot of medical stuff for them is still unknown, but Jazz knows a bit more first aid than the average teen.
I’m not going to have romance at all. I find pushing the platonic boundaries way more fun and interesting. If you think it's romance, it's not.
I’m also more interested in Danny and Jazz’s sibling relationship than whatever either of them have going on with Sam and Tucker.
No update schedule. I follow the whims of my not normal brain.
In these endings, it's more or less assumed Alastor has gotten out of his deal (if the route doesn't involve his owner)
Alastor never leaves her home. Everyone around (aside from a few skeptics) takes at Rosie's word that he's very sick and only needs wants Rosie to take care of him.
Alastor takes Rosie's poisoned food and medicine and lives his life more or less bed-bound. Anything he needs is given or helped by Rosie. He's hungry? Rosie will be there to feed him. Bored? Rosie has a multitude of books, board games, and whatever else to sate his boredom. He wants to take a shower? Rosie will be there with a bath ready for him and prepared to help wash.
Any fight against her help will be earned with some admonishments as though he was a child.
Rosie enjoys the domestic moments with him whether that's making several dishes for Alastor, snuggling, chatting, watching him sleep, or simply being in each other's company in silence.
Of course, while seemingly motherly, Rosie does simply want Alastor as a husband. She sleeps in the same bed, kisses him morning and night (and whenever she cuddles much to Alastor's dismay), and takes care of him as any dutiful wife. She ensures Alastor relies on her, this time she makes doubly sure that he can't escape this time around by always being sure he swallows his medicine. At some point, Rosie truly makes sure Alastor is bed-bound by removing parts he really has no need for with her around with angelic steel: his legs.
Venison legs are made as a delectable honeymoon dinner between the two.
Initially, he attempts his silly games like previously and tries not to take his medicine or eat Rosie's food. Even going as far as to try and go out the window. But once Rosie removes his useless legs, Alastor doesn't bother thinking about leaving and just takes what he can get with Rosie. After all, it's not too terrible he supposed. All his needs were met, Rosie was attentive, and he was protected from any of his other unwanted suitors. Sure he had to more or less give up his freedom, but freedom really was nothing when it was torture just stepping outside and getting bombarded by others with unwanted attention.
Perhaps it wasn't his ideal lot in life, but he'd take it. And at some point on the very rare occasion Rosie allows visitors, it goes from Alastor saying "I'm quite 'sick'" to "Yes, I'm quite sick. But that's why Rosie takes such good care of me".
Alastor forgets that not having his medicine or eating Rosie's food would stop the sickness.
I have a whumpee with MAJOR trust issues, extremely paranoid all the time and keep thinks everything and everyone is actively trying to kill them (poison related trauma)
Doyou have any ideas or advice on how to make them trust their team or anyone in that matter but mostly team??? Everything i came up with felt.... A little forced in this my little pony magic of friendship way
aha! hello this made me laugh <3 XD no, I get you, sometimes whumpee is wrangling your neck from across the screen XD. poor stupid idiot won't let themself be taken care of.
if the team has figured this out, they stop trying to make small talk with whumpee. they understand that anything other than what they want to convey— anything other than facts— will definitely be misinterpreted.
when whumpee needs to eat, one of the team members will bring the pot along, pour two fresh bowls right in front of them. they'll eat theirs in silence, without any expectations from whumpee. it's entirely up to them whether to join in or not. and privately, they are confident that their broth is delicious enough. just the scent is enough to have anyone licking their lips in anticipation.
when whumpee gets injured, medic will come tend to their wounds even as they hiss, scream, shout at them— bodily harm is swiftly evaded. if they just don't listen, they are crystal clear: "if you want to die, just say so. you are wasting the supplies for others." if affection and worry won't work, maybe pragmatics will.
if whumpee is completely out of their mind with paranoia, they do their best to not cross-question it. "taste that first." "I want a wooden bowl." "remove that knife." "I want a different room." "I'm checking the parameters." they let them do it. without questions. maybe experiencing that firsthand will help.
and if whumpee still doesn't concede, let them escape the team's headquarters. that's okay. because their disbelief will eventually recede. reason will take its place. they send out a search party, but they give whumpee the option: it's either them, or solo. because the others are even worse.
whumpee is in shambles, but their distrust is eating them alive. they can't get any sleep. they are tired of checking all exits of their room every other moment. they don't want poison that isn't there to sour their food's taste. they don't want to run away at a moment's notice. they desperately want to believe these lies.
eventually, it is this realisation that breaks them. whumpee won't trust anyone unless they don't want to.
