#I wrote a fic YEARS ago

[romansleftshoulderpad]

As a writer, I love going back through the comments I've gotten on AO3. I promise that the minute you take of your time has been appreciated for hours/months/years

[lady-shadow-and-darkness]

Hear me out :

Teen Dazai and Chuuya going around finding every single arcade in the entire city and always having the very top two high scores in most of the games to the point where every single teen who has ever lived in Yokohama and has gone to any arcade is like "I don't know who the fuck Mackerel and Slug are but they're annoying."

[sazwritesstuff]

Truth or Dare | bob x reader drabble

synopsis: a night down at the Hard Deck with the Dagger Squad. Drinking, playing pool, trying to stop Rooster from playing Great Balls of Fire one more time, and Bob feeling shy and staying on the sidelines. Until he’s roped into a drunken game of truth or dare. 

word count: 1025

inspired by this post

use of Y/N, dn reader, nervous Bob, alcohol (brief mention), drinking games

It was a fairly typical night down at the Hard Deck. Drinking, playing pool, Rooster trying to get his hands on the piano but being constantly pulled back down into his seat. 

There were only so many times any of you could listen to Great Balls of Fire.

It didn’t take long before the squad began playing drinking games. You weren’t sure who suggested playing a game of truth or dare. But here you were, sipping on your drink and listening to your squadmates playing a classic from your teen years. 

Most of you had been drinking for a few hours now. Well, expect for Bob. 

The poor spectacled man had been strong armed into playing by Phoenix. He’d been quite happy watching the game of pool between Payback, Bagman, Coyote and Fanboy sipping on his water and munching on his snacks. But he couldn’t say no when you joined in, backing up Phoenix to get him to play with the rest of them. 

Setting down a new round of shots you’d picked up from the bar, quickly passing them around, Rooster cleared his throat and called out “So, Y/N?” from where he stood by the pool table, shot in hand.

“Yeah?” you called back standing between Hangman and Coyote.

“Truth or dare?”

“Dare.”

“Alright, alright.” He paused looking around the group as if for inspiration before whipping his back dramatically towards you. “I dare you to kiss the hottest person here.”

Shrugging, trying to act nonchalant, “Hey Hangman?” you asked, turning to the man beside you. Bob felt his heart drop into his stomach. He hadn’t thought that you’d pick him but it still hurt seeing you chose Jake.

Jake smirked cockliy, “Yeah?”

“Could you move I’m trying to get to Bob?” the smirk dropped instantly from Jake’s face.

“Bob?!” he asked at the same time as Bob choked and spat out the mouthful of water he’d just sipped. “W-What?” he spluttered.

Y/N sighed good-naturedly, patting him on the shoulder, “Now, move out of my way Bagman.”

Jake raised one hand to his chest “You wound me, Y/N! I thought what we had was special.” Stepping aside as he quickly downed the shot in his other hand.

As you stepped closer, Bob gulped nervously and sliding his glasses up his nose to avoid your eyes. 

No way this was real. No way could you think he was the hottest person in the room. This had to be some sort of practical joke… right?

But you were still moving closer to him. One second you were sliding past Hangman and the next you were standing in front of him. “Hi.” You greeted quietly.

“Hi.” Bob breathed, his heart hammering in his chest a mile a minute. Palms sweaty he tried to wipe them on his thighs. Mouth dry, his tongue felt heavy in his mouth. Everything had turned into a blur. Everything except you.

“Is it alright if I kiss you?” you whispered to him, your own heart hammering, your own palms sweaty and your mouth feeling dry. You licked your lips. Bob followed the motion of your tongue and swallowed loudly. Not sure what to say other than “Yeah.” as he nodded, his voice sounding unsteady to his own ears. Without hesitation you swooped in and kissed him softly on the lips. It was short and sweet. Over before it could truly begin. But that didn’t stop it from being met by a chorus of catcalls and cheers.

You quickly sat yourself down on a stool on Bob’s right side. He didn’t take his eyes off you as you sat and downed the shot still clutched in your hands. You wiped your mouth the back of your hand before setting your shot glass down.

“Right,” you stated, slapping your thighs “Javy; truth or dare?”

“Uh, dare.” He answered quickly.

“I dare you-”

“Hold up, hold up.” Jake interrupted “Are we really going to just gloss over Y/N kissing Bob?”

“Well, if you want to know why you’ll just have to wait your turn.” Turning back to Javy you started again.

The game carried on a few more rounds, until Rooster tried to make a break for the piano again. Everyone seemed to have forgotten you and Bob sitting off to the side, the game now seemingly finished.

Despite your earlier burst of confidence, you had no idea what to do now that you and Bob were alone without the others or the game to act as a buffer. 

Bob cleared his throat breaking the silence that had descended over the two of you. 

“So, um, about earlier…”

“I-I know. Just-Just, um, forgot about it.” Feeling nervous and a little bit worried the reason why Bob hadn’t said a single word since you kissed him was because he didn’t feel comfortable about what had happened. You didn’t want to make him feel uncomfortable and were mentally kicking yourself.

“What if I don’t want to forget it?” he asked quietly, turning to look intently into your eyes. “Because I know that if I’d been dared the same thing I would’ve kissed you, Y/N.”

“Oh.” You breathed as your face flushed with heat. Then a light bulb went off in your mind and a devious smile spread on your face. “Well then Bob, truth or dare?”

“Dare.” He answered lightning fast.

“Then I dare you to –” you didn’t even get to finished before his lips were on yours.

Bob’s hands cupping your jaw as his soft lips descended on yours. The kiss started off gentle until you brought your hands up to grab a hold of the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer to you. Crushing your chest to his. Your mouth opening with a small gasp and you felt his tongue licking lightly at your bottom lip asking for entry. You open your mouth just a little more, letting Bob slip his tongue inside. His hands had moved to wrap around your waist pulling you practically on to his lap.

Moving away reluctantly from Bob, feeling a little lightheaded. You could feel his lips against your as you whispered “So, your place or mine?”

[xhanisai]

Thinking about how pink is Marinette's favourite colour but when she met Adrien and Chat Noir, the colour green became just as beloved for her. She would find herself often comparing other green things to their eyes, internally remarking how the shades would pale in comparison to her favourite blond-haired green-eyed boys <3333

One time Alya asked Ladybug what her favourite colour is in an interview and she accidentally blurt out "green". She almost went pure Marinette right there and then, stuttering and everything. And then Alya put two and two together and asked if it's because of Chat Noir's eyes.

The internet exploded that day and when Ladybug next met up with her partner, he was a gooey, lovesick kitten already melting all over the place.

HIS LADY LOVES HIS EYES!!!!

[birrdies]

dead; by birrdie 14.9k, 1 chapter (complete*)

[thepowerofswayze]

shoes

pairing: clapton davis (2011) / gn!reader

word count: 290 [ a shorty ;( ]

warnings & info: fluff, gender neutral

summary: clapton likes doing things for you- like tying your shoes

note: can you tell the jhutch hyperfix died. please lie and say no 😩😋

☆

You were standing to the side of the hallway, books clutched in your hands, a grin making your cheeks hurt. “I can tie my own shoes, Clapton,” you said, watching as the boy dropped to one knee and tapped your leg.

“I know,” he replied. You offset your leg slightly, moving the untied shoe closer to him. “I got it though, babe.”

This was not the first time he’d done this. Clapton seemed to love doing things for you, no matter how easily you could complete the task yourself. From getting you lunch to grabbing your favorite drink before school to walking you to every class, even though it made him late. He’d most often open doors for you, dramatically shutting your car door when you tried to do it yourself, sending you into a fit of laughter as he reopened it with a flourish and a bow.

“Why, thank you,” you’d snicker fondly, taking his outstretched hand.

He’d bring the back of your hand to his lips, the action exceedingly comical when compared to his highlighter yellow tank top and basketball shorts.

Now, he was standing up, your shoe double knotted and snug. He adjusted your backpack on his shoulder, his own on the other, and held his hand out for yours. You grinned, shifting the few books in your own arms to one side and taking his hand. “You’re too much,” you said, before squeezing his hand and pressing a kiss to his cheek. “I like it.”

Clapton’s cheeks flushed as he beamed, squeezing your hand back gently. “Yeah, well, you know,” he shrugged, embarrassment fresh and genuine as if this hadn’t happened countless times before. It made you laugh, and you pressed another kiss to his smiling lips.

[baby-babeyy]

Jonmund + Targaryen Jon

AU where Robert’s rebellion doesn’t happen and Jon is brought up in Kings Landing with his father Rhaegar and his sibling’s after his mother dies giving birth to him.

He has a relatively happy childhood, but he knows his siblings resent him for not sharing their mother, and his fathers pained look every time he sees him tells him he’s nothing but a painful reminder of his mother.

As the second son, he’s not the immediate heir to the throne, so in an effort to connect with his mothers family his father allows him to ride north to spend time in Winterfell with the Starks.

He flourishes in the north, finding he fits in better than he does in the south- he certainly feels he’s more Stark than Targaryen.

The Starks love having him around, he and Robb become as close as brothers, Sansa adores his tales of life in the capital and he spends more time than is proper for a Prince playing with Arya, Bran and Rickon.

The years he spends at Winterfell are the happiest of his life yet, though he misses his father and his siblings the cold and wild terrain agrees with him far more than the heat and politics and social expectations of the south.

When they discover the direwolves, they offer one to Jon, telling him he’s as much a Stark as they are. He and Ghost become inseparable, but secretly Jon worries about what will happen when he has to return home, for Kings Landing is surely no place for a direwolf.

As he gets older he knows that the day he has to return south grows closer, so he decides to make the most of the north while he can, and takes to sneaking out on a night and riding alone with Ghost, as it’s the only way he can get away from the constant chaperones forced on him as a Prince.

One of the nights he’s out riding he’s hit by a terrible snowstorm, he falls from his horse, is separated from Ghost, and finds himself so cold he’s unable to move.

He lies there in the woods, no clue where he is for how long he doesn’t know; it could be minutes, it could be hours that he lies drifting in and out of consciousness.

The only thing he registers is at some point being lifted into strong arms and suddenly feeling warmth for the first time in what felt like forever.

When he wakes the storm has passed, and he’s lying next to a campfire with several people in light grey and white furs stood around him - he recognises them as wildlings.

A tall man with a ginger beard explains that they found him half dead in the woods, and when he asks why they didn’t just leave him he gestures at the Valyrian steel haninging from his belt.

‘You’ve got a pretty sword, and if your fighting skills are anywhere near as good as your weapon, we could use you beyond the wall’

Jon panics at the thought of going beyond the wall, of the wildlings wanting him to be one of them. He’d heard from the northerners that they were feral, rapists and thieves and murderers.

But when he sees a red headed girl elbow the tall man and whisper ‘his sword isn’t the only thing you thinks pretty’ to he met with a shove and a laugh, he doesn’t see how the people that saved his life could he that bad.

In a fit of impulsivity he decides to go with them. He’s always been too much of a Stark for Kings Landing; despite how much he loved it there the people of Winterfell all see him as a Targaryen; maybe he can find where he belongs beyond the wall?

As they’re setting off on their journey north, they ask Jon his name. He almost tells them, but then thinks better of it, knowing that his family could be known beyond the wall and he doesn’t want his name getting him sent back, or worse killed.

He settles on ‘Jon Snow’, the surname of Northern bastards, and is slightly ashamed of himself to find it feels more like his name than ‘Jon Targaryen’ ever has.

The further North he gets the more he finds he enjoys life with the wildlings- or free folk as they call themselves.

Tormund, as he finds the tall man is called, tells him all about their philosophies, how they’ve chosen their leader unlike the kneelers down south, and they become very close on their journey.

Despite being a King’s son, and in the line of succession, he actually agrees with what they say thinking that if the people of Westeros chose their own leaders, a lot of suffering could easily be avoided.

He didn’t think he’d be this happy with the free folk but he is.

Climbing the wall is a whole different story.

The Wall is the tallest thing he’s ever seen, at least twice the height of the top of the Red Keep, and with no stairs in sight.

The only thing that keeps him going on his ascent is Tormund’s occasional teasing remarks and the knowledge that the only way he’s making it alive is if he follows them up.

The horrendous climb is almost worth the view at the top. He feels like he’s on top of the world and when he turns to share his grin with Tormund, that’s when the wildling kisses him for the first time.

Jon’s so taken aback he nearly topples off the wall, and very may well have fallen to his death if not for Tormund’s strong arms catching him.

The taller man apologises, saying he knows that sort of thing is frowned upon in the south and promising that since Jon clearly doesn’t feel the same he’ll never do it again, etc etc....

While Tormund is rambling in an uncharacteristically nervous way, Jon thinks about the kiss and how much he enjoyed it. He knows that the Southerners wouldn’t approve but he’s not a southerner anymore is he?

Tormund is still talking when Jon shuts him up by kissing him again. They stand there, hands grasping each other tight, lips locked together, and wind whipping at their faces until Ygritte shouts over at them that they better wait until they’ve climbed down the wall before they fuck.

Jon blushes the entire time he’s climbing down the wall, thinking about Tormund’s body pressed against his own, and Ygrittes crude words, and everything that waits for him beyond the wall.

When they finally have their feet on the ground Tormund grabs him again, kissing him hard, and whispering ‘when we get to the camp I’ll kiss you properly Jon Snow’ before walking off with the rest of the group.

Jon’s knees go a little bit weak at the thought of the kisses he’s experienced so far not even being proper kisses, and Ygritte seems to notice this by the way she smacks his ass and shouts laughing ‘Come on Jon Snow, leave your innocence behind that wall!’.

Once they reach the wildling camp, some of his excitement leaves him and is replaced by fear and anticipation at meeting the King Beyond the Wall.

If it wasn’t for Tormund by his side on his way there he might have run the other way at the site of giants or the Thenn as Tormund calls the wildings with scarred faces who look at his as if he’s food.

Meeting Mance Rayder isn’t as scary as he first thought it might be, but what he tells Jon exceeds any sort of terror he’d ever felt before.

He understands why they took him beyond the wall with them- if he had known about the army of the dead marching south he may have suggested they stop to collect more. But he doesn’t truly believe it until a stray wight stumbles into their camp.

Mance tells him that they need to get everyone south of the wall, or the hundreds of thousands of free folk gathered will die, and become part of the dead’s army, who will inevitably then march south, and take all of the seven kingdoms. He says that they’re to begin marching for Castle Black immediately, ready to kill all the brothers of the Nights Watch if they must.

Jon offers him a different solution, knowing the Jon Snow may not be able to help, but Prince Jon of House Targaryen can.

He reveals his identity to Mance, and the other free folk (Tormund is smug to find out that he’s been fucking a Prince the entire time and doesn’t stop mentioning it until Ygritte threatens him with an arrow through the eye if he doesn’t shut up).

Jon, Mance, Tormund, Ygritte and a select few others all head to castle black ahead of the rest of the Free Folk in hopes that when they arrive they’ll be able to walk straight through with no bloodshed.

It’s not a smooth journey unfortunately- Jon sees his first White Walker and feels fear grip him in the way the Wight never did. The look of understanding in the walkers eyes makes him feel colder than any snow storm, or wall of ice ever has.

They tell Jon to run, that without fire or dragonglass they cannot kill the white walker. Jon falls down in his efforts to escape, and in a desperate bid he swings his sword. The walkers body shatters then and there, and Jon feels relief like he never has before.

“Valyrian steel, you’re full of surprises aren’t you little prince” Tormund says, before pulling him into a fierce hug, and planting a desperate kiss on his lips. “Now, never scare me like that again” he says deadly serious and Jon laughs in spite of himself.

At Castle Black however there is no time for laughing. They’re immediately met with drawn swords and notched arrows, until Jon shouts his name and hesitantly the brothers withdraw their weapons.

Lord Commander Mormont says they will have to be kept in the cells until they can get proof of Jon’s identity, which the hastily agree to.

He explains the situation beyond the wall, and Mormont seems to believe him, permitting him to send ravens to his Uncle Ned in Winterfell who can come to identify the supposed Prince.

Days later he’s led out of the cells to the courtyard of Castle Black, still in chains, only to be knocked over by Ghost and shortly after, Arya, who’s no longer the little girl he remembered.

When he gets back to his feet he’s embraced just as aggressively by his Uncle and Robb, who almost shed a tear at the sight of him.

They tell him he was presumed dead after he went missing and Ghost showed up at Winterfell alone. Arya plasters herself to his side even as Mormont is unchaining him, and Ned tells him fondly that she couldn’t be persuaded to stay at Winterfell when there was a chance he was alive.

[His little cousin had supposedly ran away to Braavos once Jon had gone missing, returning a more skilled swordsman than anyone at Winterfell - Jon was proud of her even if both Robb and Ned looked torn apart at the memory of her leaving.]

Mormont and the brothers apologise profusely for keeping him in the cells - “I hope you understand your grace, but we had no way to tell who you were.”

Jon politely asks that his companions be released and at this the men of the watch bristle. They’ve been fighting wildlings their whole lives, they say, they aren’t about to just let a bunch of them free in Castle Black.

He’s angry at their response, but he somewhat understands, and he heads down into the cells to apologise. He presses his forehead against Tormund’s through the bars and touches his hand with his own, promising he won’t be left their for long, he just needs to convince the watch.

He starts with Ned and Robb, telling them all about the wights, begging them to believe him. They trust him, and so vouch for him to Mormont, saying that the wildlings can stay in the lands surrounding Winterfell, and Mormont reluctantly agrees to open the gates for the free folk when they arrive.

Jon tells Ned about the army of the dead, how they need to gather all the living and defeat them. Ned agrees to call his bannermen, and tells him that his father will agree to call all the Houses to march North, but that they will need proof before they do so.

So Jon arranges an expedition beyond the wall, himself (much to Ned’s disapproval), Tormund, Ygritte, and three brothers of the watch, Edd, Pyp, and Grenn. Mance stays at Castle Black awaiting the rest of the Free Folk so that he can lead them south with Ned.

While beyond the wall they manage to capture a lone wight, despite all the tension between the Free Folk and the watch- but it doesn’t come without cost.

Jon, Tormund and Edd return to Castle Black sombrely with the rest of their party gone, and the smell of smoking bodies still on their clothes.

There’s no time to mourn however, as soon as they’re back, Jon, Ned and Tormund (who refuses to leave Jon) head for Kings Landing with a select few northern guards, leaving behind a Night’s Watch who are now convinced of the army of the dead, and all the wildlings now safely south of the wall.

It’s a long journey to King’s Landing, even by boat, and Tormund complains the entire time of the ever increasing heat. Jon thinks his uncle can tell from the fond way he smiles at Tormund, and the gingers hungry gaze what’s happening between them, but he’s gracious enough not to mention it. All he says one night before they retire is a whispered ‘be careful’, a small smile, and a pat on the shoulder.

Jon feels guilty to say he hasn’t missed Kings Landing, not the smell, or the heat, or the millions of people confined in a tiny space.

But when his father clutches him in is arms, shedding tears with no shame, saying how he’d missed him while he was gone- that he had missed.

It’s evident from the lack of reaction (for Rhaegar the tears and shouting had barely scratched the surface of a reaction) that Ned hadn’t told him about the months Jon had been missing, and he tried his best to avoid it.

But when trying to explain why he had gone beyond the wall, there was no way to phrase it without getting his Uncle into trouble.

Jon’s sure that the only thing stopping Rhaegar from hitting Ned is that 1) Ned had spent the entire time out searching and 2) Jon had insisted that his uncle didn’t authorise him to leave.

Then they get onto the important stuff.

They reveal to the King the wight and he immediately responds with ‘how do we stop them’. Jon tells him about their plan, of meeting the dead with an army as large as they can get, and Rhaegar immediately sends the order for all the armies in the seven kingdoms to march north.

He also says he will write to Daenerys, who’s been in Essos since Jon went to Winterfell, liberating Slavers Bay, and becoming a ruler in her own right. She now supposedly commands an army of Unsullied, the Dothraki, and has three dragons.

Rhaegar sends them back up north, saying he’ll wait for Dany and that the armies should be shortly behind him, taking with them all the dragonglass they can find (thankfully his Uncle Viserys had long since found the stores below Dragonstone, where he became Lord as soon as he was of age).

Jon is shocked by how clingy Tormund is with him for the entire trip back, but Tormund tells him that despite the huge army they’re building and the possibility of three dragons, there’s still no certainty they’ll win this war, and he wants to make the most of every last moment with Jon. (If Jon tears up a little at this Tormund never tells anyone.)

He’s stood on the battlements at Winterfell with Sansa, now a woman grown, Arya, Robb, Ned, and of course Tormund, looking out at the armies of free folk, northmen, and the rest of the noble houses who arrived not long ago, when he first sees a dragon - or rather three of them.

They’re huge, magnificent creatures, and Jon can just make out Dany on the back of the largest one, and his father and Viserys on the other two. Out in the distance he can see the thousands of Unsullied marching in perfect formation, and the stomping of thousands of dorthraki close behind.

With them comes Jorah Mormont, who announces himself as Queensguard to Daenerys. When Jon tells him of meeting his father he looks away in shame, telling him he has dishonoured his house, and hopes to make up for it by serving his Queen loyally.

The dragons finally land, and Jon ventures over to reunite with his family and meet the dragons. They’re even more amazing up close, and they don’t seem to mind him, his father, and uncle, but they huddle around Daenerys like young children with their mothers. (It makes sense when she’s announced as Queen Daenerys of the Bay of Dragons, Breaker of Chains, and Mother of Dragons).

Jon wants to desperately to hear about how his aunt came to be a queen beyond the narrow sea, but they have more immediate problems.

They hold a war council, with all the great lords, the three eldest Targaryen siblings, all the Stark children but Bran and Rickon, Mance Rayder, Tormund and of course Jon.

They decide upon a preemptive strike- if they can wipe out the dead before they cross the wall and avoid a battle they sure as hell will.

The decision they come to is that Dany and Viserys (riding on Drogon and Viserion) will fly across the wall and destroy as many wights as possible with dragonfire.

Rhaegar tries to insist he go as well, but everyone refuses to allow the King to go with them due to the risk.

They all wait while the two of them fly north, holding their breath for any sign of them.

After what feels like days, there is a lone screech, and a singular flying figure on the horizon.

Dany and Drogon land, and she’s stood looking angry as Jon had ever seen her.

She chokes out that the leader of the White Walkers, who she dubs the Night King, killed Viserion and Viserys with him.

They know now they will have to face them in battle, on their side of the wall, so they immediately begin forging weapons made of dragonglass and fortifying Winterfell.

They receive a message from Last Hearth, clearly written in a rush, reading ‘the dead are here, they are coming’.

They send Dany out as a scout, to estimate how long they have before the dead are upon them. Once she returns, telling them they have days at most they all ready for battle.

[lerrryyyyy]

TDDK AU | Each Others' Translator

It was a well-known fact in 1A that Izuku is the Shouto-Whisperer. Shouto wasn't the most talkative person, and even though he was blunt to a fault, his sparse use of words still tends to cause a couple of misunderstandings.

Iida and Yaoyorozu can understand him to some extent, but they aren't as fluent as Izuku, who had the impressive ability to translate a whole sentence even from just one of Shouto's soft hums. They aren't even dating  (much to chagrin of those losing in the betting pool) yet Izuku understood the other boy like a mind-reader.

With that dynamic, everyone should've expected that the ability would go both ways

They find out about Shouto's Izuku-Whispering skills when, during a minor villain attack, Izuku is hit with some kind of silencing quirk. Unfortunately, the quirk's effects cannot be reversed, but fortunately, it would eventually wear off. They just weren't sure when that would happen.

There weren't any initial problems. Izuku was a fast writer and he could mostly reply to everyone by writing it down on a notepad, but it wasn't ideal because he couldn't always bring a notepad and pen everywhere.

They finally face a problem during Heroics.

They're grouped into teams and are tasked to strategize on a way to ambush the enemy stealthily. Izuku realizes that he's out of ink and can't convey his thoughts. Hagakure, one of their teammates, suggests that he try to gesture it out. However, when Izuku does, it looks more like flailing than him acting out a plan.

Their whole group is so confused... until Shouto, who is also part of the group, speaks up and says that yes, he can definitely create a platform to the 2nd floor of the building while propelling Kirishima towards the window.

Everyone stares at him - flabbergasted. Asking if he really just understood what Izuku said, and Shouto now returns the confused look and says yes, of course he does, didn't they?

And that's when they find out that Shouto can pretty much understand Izuku as well. Being unable to speak made Izuku's gestures more expressive, but not always clear. Yet Shouto is able to interpret them with no problem, as if they are having a full conversation.

(The stakes in the TDDK betting pool definitely get higher during this time. Also cue more exasperated friends because PLEASE YOU'RE PRACTICALLY BOYFRIENDS ALREADY JUST MAKE IT OFFICIAL WE CAN'T KEEP WATCHING THIS PINING AND OBLIVIOUSNESS).

[daddyplasmius]

Danny Fenton isn’t dead. And Maddie is grateful for that, as his mother. But, as a scientist, she knows, realistically, he should be dead. Yet here he is, walking around with enough ectoplasmic contamination in his system to kill a grown man ten times, acting like nothing is wrong. What the honest fuck.

Maddie’s first theory is ectocontamination. A severe case. The problem with this theory is that there’s no proof of contamination besides the absurd amount of ectoplasm in Danny’s system. No adverse health effects as far as they can tell. Which is oddーwhen she compares it to her other theories.

Her second theoryーJack’s firstーis possibly low level possession. But, again, Danny shows no signs or symptoms besides his ectoplasmic levels. He can even pass through the Fenton Ghost Shield.

Third? Maybe he isn’t affected as much by ectoplasm and so it just sticks to him without any adverse effects. She did handle samples while pregnant, which wasn’t very good. But, again, the problem here is that the same could be said of Jazz, and she has a perfectly normal level of ectocontamination. And when she had gotten severely contaminated, Jazz fell illーalong with dozens of other students from Casper High.

It is quite literally just Danny.

Danny Fenton is an enigma. Maddie finds herself stuck in this thought loop often. Her son doesn’t even seem to notice the absolutely massive amount of ectoenergy he gives off. Normally, that much would be coming from the deceased victim of contamination or a ghost, not a healthy, living teenager.

And Danny is healthy. Nothing is wrong with him besides that. Which is weird. Well, it’s good that he isn’t dying, but… scientifically impossible. Never before witnessed. An anomaly in the field of paranormal science. A human giving off so much ectoplasmic energy a day, it could fuel a blob ghost, without recharging, for ten years.

Another mystery. How did Danny discover blob ghosts before she or Jack did? Why didn’t he tell them before one wandered out of his room? And why on Earth would he give them such a ridiculous, albeit accurate, name?

Maddie feels like her head is going to explode. She wishes she could justーask. But her son thoroughly avoids any mention of ghosts. Add it to the list. Because that’s what this is becoming. Just a list of odd things about her son that she can’t solve. Her son that should be dead, but against all odds isn’t.

[cerealmonster15]

jamiazu / ashenviper week day 5: alternate universe

can i offer u a farm fresh egg in this trying time 😐😐🥚

i almost forgot and skipped this day's theme jdksfjsdkl i was head in the clouds plotting ahead for the other two...

anyway ummm this is from one of my assorted twst farming sim au plots lol... most notably this one with jamil imagined as like the 'silent protagonist' harvest moon style, and azul as one of the potential marriage candidates [like mermaid leia from hmds lol]

[rafyki]

(Lil snippet of the Goth!Nico/Surfer!Percy fic inspired by the beautiful amazing incredible art by @neo-kid-funk !! It's definitely going to be much longer, but I hope you enjoy this for now!!)

(under read more bc it's more than 1k words lol)

~~~

“He's here again”.

Jason didn't even turn around to see what Nico was referring to with those words - at that point it was such a common occurrence that it wasn't really necessary. Still, Nico felt a little offended at his friends' dismissal.

“Jason”, he said, almost in a whine. “He's here again”.

Now finally (though with a smile and a roll of his eyes) Jason did turn around to look at the current source of all of Nico's troubles and the main character of many of his dreams.

Dark hair, tall, all tan skin and toned muscles, swim trunks hanging way too low on his hips - all in all, the most handsome man Nico had ever seen, and he couldn't keep his eyes off him.

Nico looked at him coming out of the water holding onto his surfing board as if it weighted nothing (and Nico knew that wasn't true, he had almost collapsed under the weight of one once), a hand going up to card through his wet hair plastered to his forehead. He looked so beautiful and at home in the water Nico couldn't help but feel like he was some sort of sea god.

He was too far away to see it now, but he knew that even his eyes were the color of the sea.

What is he even so hot for?

As ridiculous as it sounded, Nico could feel himself blush just looking at him. Yet there was something (everything really) about him that was so magnetic it made it impossible to tear his eyes away - really, at this point Nico spent most of his shifts at the beach kiosk looking at him; he wasn't sure if it was a blessing or a curse that that man came to the beach so often.

Percy.

He only knew the name because he had heard a girl calling him (was that his girlfriend? God, Nico really hoped she wasn't), and obviously not because he had had the courage of talking to him outside of the small exchanges whenever Percy came to buy something.

He kept following him with his eyes, teeth absentmindedly biting his lips, playing with the rings there.

He was so busy thinking and trying to stare without making it too obvious that he almost missed it when Jason said: “Looks like he's coming here”.

Nico jumped out of his skin. “What!? No, Jason, please please, you take his order, please”.

Another roll of his eyes and another fond smile that Nico had seen all too many times. “Nico”, Jason said. “It's your chance. Talk to him!”

Nico shook his head vehemently. He could already feel his heart starting to pound in his chest and his cheeks grow hot. “No way. He's going to smile at me! I'm a weak man Jason, don't do this to me”.

An obnoxious laugh reminded Nico that Leo was there too - he was so caught up in thinking about Percy that he had completely forgotten about him; but of course there he was, sprawled on the counter as if he belonged there (and with how much time he spent there even without working with them, it might as well have been). “Goth-boy, you're on a beach wearing a black t-shirt under the august scorching sun - you're anything but weak, man, you can do it”.

“Oh shut up Leo, we all know you're no better than me - remind me how long it took you to talk to Jason?”, Nico shot back.

He wasn't looking at his friends though, his eyes still drawn to where Percy was - and yes, Jason was right and he was definitely coming there.

Nico's heart was beating absurdly fast; it really was ridiculous how much he liked a boy he barely knew. But he did - oh god, he really did. Percy was handsome and bright and had the most beautiful smile Nico had ever seen.

And Nico was just a boy who looked very out of place on a beach.

Still playing nervously with his lip rings, he took off his hair tie and fixed his ponytail. Did his hair look good? He hoped so at least.

What did Percy think about him? Did he even have an opinion on him? Or was he just the weird kid working at the kiosk? Probably.

“Don't deflect Nico, Leo is right”, Jason said, cutting through his line of thought. “And don't worry you look good”.

“As cute and charming as always, man!”, Leo added, and maybe from someone who didn't know him it could have sounded teasing but at this point Nico knew him well enough to recognize the honesty in his smile as he did a thumbs up to show his support. “Just smile and he'll fall for you in a second”.

Nico scoffed at that, but appreciated the sentiment.

It was probably too much hoping that Percy would even look his way, let alone anything more than that.

Jason nudged his shoulder, once again taking him away from his thoughts. “Really, you're all good”, he said. “Now get ready to take his order”.

The next second, Nico found himself staring into a pair of sea-green eyes so deep and mesmerizing he was sure he was drowning in them, could almost feel the water filling up his lungs; and if that wasn't enough, a smile so bright it could rival the sun came with them, effectively cutting off the last bit of breath. Oh it was so unfair.

And he wasn't wearing a shirt - of course he wasn't, they were on a beach and he had just come out of the water five minutes ago. His tanned skin seemed to shine under the sun, water was still dripping from his hair and Nico had to use all of his willpower to not follow with his eyes the little droplets' way down his neck and collarbone.

It was more than unfair, and it was definitely a curse.

“Hi, can I get you anything?”

Thank god he was so used to his job that he could sound natural enough saying that even while panicking on the inside.

Even without looking at them, Nico could feel his friends almost laughing at him; he would have been offended if he weren’t so busy trying to survive the moment. Percy really was way too handsome and hot for Nico’s sanity.

Don’t stare at him, he berated himself, it’s not polite to stare at customers. He’ll think you’re weird.

Oh god, he needed a smoke as soon as possible. If he kept biting on his lip like that he would end up biting his lip ring away.

“Huh”, Percy seemed to think about it for a second. “Can I have the same blue drink from last time? You remember?”

Nico did remember. It had been the longest conversation he had ever had with Percy (the longest and most intense five minutes of his life until now), with the surfer asking for some kind of blue drink, and Nico trying his best to understand and make it for him - he had managed to, in the end, and then had proceeded to think non stop for days about the happy smile Percy had gifted him.

For some reason, the way Percy said “you remember?” made Nico’s insides melt, a swarm of frantic screaming butterflies flying in chaos in his stomach. Like it was something between the two of them, something they shared.

Nico had never felt more ridiculous in his life.

“Yeah, I remember”, he managed to say, and in a way it was a relief to turn around and get to work. Part of him wanted to drag it out as long as possible just to make Percy stay a little longer; at the same time, though, part of him wanted this to be over as soon as possible just so he could finally go back to breathing.

“Great!”, Percy said with a smile, like Nico had just told him the best news of the day.

It was such a peculiar request, “can i get a blue drink” - no flavor or anything, just a blue drink. It was weird and endearing at the same time, and it left Nico wanting to know more about it, more about Percy. He wondered how many other weird and endearing things like that Percy did.

“You like it that much?”, he found himself asking, his mouth moving before his brain even registered it.

Another blinding smile. Nico was so weak.

“Everything tastes better if it’s blue”, Percy said with such conviction that he almost made it sound like that made any sense.

It made Nico stop, and then he couldn’t help the short laugh that escaped his lips.

“Does it?”, he asked, smiling back, as he handed Percy his drink.

Percy nodded. “Of course. You should try it sometimes”.

The butterflies were going absolutely crazy in Nico’s stomach, so much he almost forgot to take the money Percy was giving him. “Maybe I will”, he said.

“Thanks for the drink, Nico”.

For an instant, Nico’s brain went blank except for a mantra of he knows my name, oh god he knows my name. Then he remembered he was wearing a nametag, so of course he did.

Idiot.

“Have a nice day”, he said through the lump in his throat.

“You too!”, Percy said and went to leave. He seemed to think back on it though, because he turned toward Nico again, holding out his right hand to him. “I’m Percy, by the way”.

It felt like looking at himself from the outside, like it was happening to someone else, as Nico shook his hand. It was warm and big, and Nico wanted to hold onto it. “Nice to meet you”.

Percy smiled, big and bright and happy, and Nico smiled back.

“See you next time, Nico”.

Nico stared at him as he left and went back to his friends, pretty sure everything that had just happened must have been a dream.

[evilasiangenius]

He didn't so much hear Armand come in as he felt Armand come in. Like a moment of nullity moving through the room, a presence that was not a presence. A ghost.

“Daniel...” Armand sat down on the bed, his weight depressing the mattress lightly.

“No...go away.” Daniel tried to turn away but he was sweating and shivering, too cold, too hot.

“It's all right, Daniel. I'm here.” Armand shifted, bringing his legs up and lying down beside Daniel, moving into Daniel's arms. “I'm here.”

“You feel good.” Daniel pressed his cheek against Armand's cool forehead, sighing. He wrapped his arms tight around Armand and it was as though he could feel the heat melt away from him, soaking into Armand.

“My poor Daniel.” Armand stroked Daniel's pale hair. Daniel had only the faintest roughness of stubble clinging to his jaw, and his mussed hair had been cut and clipped in a slick modern style that suited him. Even his ruined clothes were new. That man had taken good care of him.

Daniel shifted, so he could move closer to Armand, so he could press his entire body against Armand. The fever was burning up inside Daniel, and Armand felt the twinge of that old fear, the fear of sickness and the death it brought. So often over the years he had seen Daniel shrug off coughs and chills that it had made him wonder at the strength of these modern mortals.

Death. His fingers brushed through Daniel's hair and Daniel sighed, turning so Armand's hand moved against his cheek. Just hiding under the skin, just beyond the bones. He wondered if he pressed his ear to Daniel's chest, if he could hear the little cells inside of him slowly dying, bursting and floating away.

“I won't let you.” Armand kissed his eyelids, speaking so softly that it was more for his own sake than Daniel's. “Not right now.” And he made that little cut on his throat and guided Daniel to to it. Daniel's dry lips moved against him, at first sluggish, but then he caught the taste of it and his mouth moved hungry.

x

[rottingraisins]

triannual accumulated clefdraki art dump... some strange little timeline out there where theyre happy i think

[jovenshires]

the right side of my neck (6.17.23)

happy one year, spommy nation <3

[fabdante]

The Party Animal and the Goth

Duncan tried to tell her before they showed up that this would be different. She should give it a try. It’d been years since the last party she went to with him (she’d been dating Trent at the time to, something Duncan further blamed for her bad time). Maybe she’d like it now. And Duncan wouldn’t leave her alone, he swore. No awkward hanging out by herself and the dog should they have one. And if Trent was there, Duncan would punch him just for her. Blah blah. All sorts of promises. Well. She wasn’t into it. Like she said she wouldn’t be. Duncan fucked off somewhere else. Like she thought he would. And she saw her ex Trent floating around and she was doing everything in her power to avoid any awkward small talk that would ensue the second he saw her again. Like she feared.  Of course the party was going to be that predictable. She should have put money on it. And there wasn't even a dog. Around midnight she’d gotten sick of the whole thing. But Duncan was off doing something (hopefully not someone) and Geoff found her. They talked. She mentioned maybe looking for DJ and leaving. But Geoff lit up like she’d just told him he won a prize and her night got a little weird. Instead of just saying bye or helping her find DJ or literally anything else, Geoff was instantly offering to talk her back to her dorm. So that got her where she was now, walking with Geoff away from his party.  What the fuck.

Summery: A classic 'Geoff walks Gwen home' story set in the year of 2013/2014, in which Gwen has decided to leave a party early and Geoff has decided he'll walk her home. (College AU, no camp.)

Words: 4,274

Rating: Teen (swearing)

Read Here!

[the-sun-is-also-a-star]

microfic: touch

| drarry | sfw | 741 words |

Touch was special to Harry.

At first it was terrible, coming from a household where every touch was violent and love was rare. 

Hogwarts changed that.

Ron would throw his arm over his shoulder after a quidditch match and Hermione would fall asleep on his shoulder while they studied late. It was odd, but soon it became as easy as breathing.

Soon touch became the way Harry would communicate. He'd lightly shove Seamus with his shoulder and press his knee to Luna's when he'd sit on the floor with her to listen to her daily rants. He'd kiss Hermione's forehead before she left a room and tug on Ron's clothes to get his attention. He'd make sure that he was always touching someone at some point. 

Harry Potter was not a boy who was shown a lot of love through touch, but he expressed it oh so generously. 

When Draco and Harry became hesitant friends in 8th year, Harry was nervous. 

The war had not ruined his affinity for physical touch as a means of comfort, in fact, it may have exacerbated it. 

But Harry did not know if Draco liked to be touched and with a friendship so rocky, he wasn't willing to risk it. 

But like all things with Draco, everything just sort of clicked. 

When they sat together for lunch in the great hall (a fact that made Harry giddy with joy for some reason?) he found Draco sitting close enough that their arms pressed together. 

When they sat next to each other in class, Draco's leg would be close enough to brush against his every now and then. 

When they sat on the couches in the 8th year common room, all of their friends sitting together, squashed up on the couches, Draco and him would sprawl all over each other, limbs entangled and unbearably comfortable. 

All in all, Harry loved it. 

It was when they started dating that it all came to a crux. 

It was their first year out of Hogwarts, and with Draco beginning his time consuming journey of training to become a potions master, a relationship was the last thing that you would assume could work out. 

But they made it work, they always do. 

Harry didn't care that Draco had odd hours because he had to sometimes check on potions at weird times in the night, he didn't care that sometimes Draco would spend entire afternoons reading on potions textbook or the other, he didn't care that sometimes Draco had to cancel plans last minute because his mentor was an utter ass and had Draco running at his beck and call. 

It should have bothered him, especially as early as it was into their relationship as it was, but it didn't. 

He didn't care because when Draco got back from his odd hours he would always kiss the crown of Harry's head, and get back into bed, going back to spooning him like he never left.

He didn't care because when Draco spent entire afternoons reading, he always did it on the couch next to Harry, his legs curled up next to him and his body leaning into his, and afterwards he would kiss Harry and thank him for being so patient with him. He didn't care because everytime before he got back from his mentor he would kiss Harry on the cheek, and hug him, tightly, promising that as soon as his internship was done he would never cancel plans again because he knew how important stability was for Harry. 

Harry was never that good with expressing how he felt, but he loved Draco Malfoy, and he expressed that very clearly. He expressed it in the way he linked their pinkys together. He expressed it the way he hugged Draco from behind when he made coffee in the morning. He expressed it in the way he swung their hands when they walked anywhere. 

And Draco loved him, oh how Draco loved him. 

Draco loved him in the way he let Harry bury his face in his neck when he was cold. Draco loved him in the way he put his arm around Harry's chair when they went to pub nights with their friends. Draco love him in the way he pulled him close when they were dancing. Draco loved him.

Touch was everything to Harry, it was how he loved and how he wanted to be loved.

And oh, how he was loved.