#They're trying

[phantoms-world-and-more]

The fentons go to gothem

The fentons know dannys phantom and accept him, in the aftermath and guilt of hunting their own son the fentons decide to go on a trip

To where...

TO GOTHEM

But their the only ones who arent scared of the rouge gallery, please danny has a rouge gallery too and has been hunted by the government daily gothem is nothing.

So the fentons just do what ever they want?

There's a robbery at the store their in?too bad their is a sale and if a walking fortress isent present your not getting them out. They dont even stop shopping, the robbers see 2 teenagers just casually shopping, go to confront them, but they dont get far because the second they step 3 feet away from them the 5.2 walking stick of a teenager just kicked them in the face so hard they get knocked out, and continues just shopping.

They get caught in a fear gass attack? Jazz is going to phyco-analyse the crap out of scarecrow from 30 feet away and go on a rant about the ethical ramifications of fear gas.

The joker tries to involve these 2 kids in a hostages situation? Nope, danny didn't so much as let him within 20 feet of jazz before grabbing a metal pipe and going to town on him. Now when ever this kid sees him he just grabs the closes thing to beat him up with and tackles him.

He's jasons new favourite and is trying to help bruse adopt these 2.

When BAM a walking tank comes barging through followed buy a woman parcor-ing her way inside, both in jumpsuits.

What they dont expect is for the most intimidating man they've ever seen to burst into tears, saying about how they might not be the best parents but they do love them, dont take them away ect;

They also didn't expect the woman to pull out a freaking buzuka and start yelling about how those were her children, how dare you make her husband cry ect;

[vaulthistorian]

The Sole Survivor is quick to discover that when they try to do anything around Nick and Hancock in the same room they will be ignored.

Want to kill some Raiders? Take down a synth crime syndicate? That's great, but Hancock is trying to get the giant hunky man robot on his tail and Nick is trying to be professional while smitten with the cute rotting lad.

[atsadi-shenanigans]

What Shall We Become 37 - Um???

So. That happened? UM??!?

On AO3.

Jesus fucking christ fucking lord holy fuck oh god oh god. You lost your whole mind.

You’d felt so small and weak. Had scrubbed at your skin with your nails in that ice-fuck stream until your nails started to hurt.

Then remembered the mushrooms growing outta Astarion’s arm and what if them spores just drift along in the air down here?

You got practice crying silently. All y’all farmstead kids learned it quick. You never grew outta it. Not camped out on Sasha’s couch, not in the group home she helped you find, not even when her organization helped you find a closet of a studio apartment with two garbage bags full of dollar store supplies they all pitched in to help you with. The walls in that place had been so thin, and drawing attention is always, always bad. Nothing chums the water better than audible crying.

But Astarion got fucking elf vampire ears. And he heard you anyway. Brought over a too-tight shirt that rolled up your belly to make a fucked up crop top straining at the seams. And then he gave you armor.

He’d been right there. Hadn’t made fun of you, or even acknowledged it (thank fuck). Just quietly helped you lace up (and you ain’t gonna think about how stupid you look in this, still bursting out along the edges).

On the inside, you was stripped down to nothing. Felt like somebody split you open and scooped out your insides with a rusty fucking spoon. And you remembered him leaning in, and he’s been after you for weeks and weeks and you just…you wanted to feel something that wasn’t small and pitiful.

It ain’t nothing like your first kiss. With him. All caught up in your own head back then, full of panic and shame and trying to analyze everything and figure out what you was supposed to be doing.

This…is nice. His skin is warmer than the cave air. Probably because his breath smells metallic. You don’t let yourself think too hard about that. He’s right there. Fills all your senses. Scent of blood, yeah, and that weird basement smell. But also that perfume or hair oil, and that bright, kinda spiciness you inhale deep into your lungs (maybe if you can suck down enough of that, the molecules can replace the sad, whimpering molecules you’re naturally made out of).

Then you ain’t getting enough air. Everything goes haywire. Your lips seem to buzz and your whole face goes sensitive, almost ticklish.

When his fingertips brush your cheek, a bone-deep shudder runs from the top of your head all the way down to your pinkie toes. Takes a major detour along the way to slam between your legs.

Jesus fuck. No wonder people get stupid about this. It’s like…like…crack cocaine, is what it is. You want to grab him and haul him to you. Run your hands over his face and bury your fingers in his hair (jesus, it looks soft). Want to mash your face to his and breathe him all the way in and you ain’t even tongue kissing this time.

He came back. He ran a goddamn birdshark into that camp from god knows where and he saved your ass and gave you armor. Now he’s kissing you and you can’t fucking breathe.

Then he pulls you closer and your thoughts turn to mashed fucking potatoes. All of the shit, the hurt, the humiliation; all of it gets buried under the onslaught of dopamine and good god almighty, his lips is soft and you could try tongue. That would be fine, and then he does that and you’re actually throbbing in your nethers and does that make you easy, oh who the fuck cares—

He breaks off. You stand there, blinking stupidly at him.

“Sorry,�� you say reflexively. For touching him? For breathing on him? For daring to insert your presence into his awareness? You don’t even know.

He only smiles, all soft, and his fingers brush your hair and your skin almost bursts into flames. “No sorry.”

He stays like that for a long moment, fingers of his other hand still knotted through the lacing of your armor. It’s long enough you lean back to get a better look at his face.

He releases you. Blinks. Looks to the lizard and says something ending with “Move this way, darling.”

Because them drow ain’t gonna let you off after stealing their stupid crystal coordinates and their reptilian pony. Astarion helps this thought by nudging your mind: the burst of green light that hit you. Hadn’t hurt, and you thought it was a magic misfire. But he saw the X shimmer above you. It’s a tracking spell.

He helps you climb back up. There’s a bit more room now that he ditched his man-sized capri-sun. You ain’t sure what to think of that, so you bury it for now. Y’all gotta go.

He seats himself right behind you, this time. You do your best to shove down the instinctive flinch (y’all just had your lips on each other and you can still fucking taste the man).

Then you take up the reins, give the lizard a heal nudge (they’re trained like horses, interesting) and off y’all go.

Two steps in, and Astarion’s hand taps the front of your armor.

May I, he wonders.

Oh. Right.

That’s like, protocol for riding double (without a man getting drained to death between you). People ride like that on motorcycles.

“Ye-aw,” you say. It comes out more accented than you intend.

Your face could still light a match, you reckon. Kinda glad he’s behind you, so he can’t see that. Then his arm snakes around your waist, just enough to secure himself, and your ears go hot.

Jesus fucking lord, you are so screwed.

***

You come to at the thin, warbling wail in the distance. Almost launch yourself right outta the saddle. But the arm around your waist tightens and holds you down. Astarion eases up the second you take a deep breath.

“Far, far over there,” he says, by way of drawing out the “over” part of the verb that makes up that phrase. Over the group chat (now a private chat, because you can feel the others in the distance but don’t want that kind of audience now) he adds that drow outpace a walking lizard when they run, but the lizard vastly outpaces drow when it runs. Y’all put some good distance between y’all at that initial retreat.

Then he moves, and you realize he had both arms around you, and you was full on slouched against him. Dozing mouth open, judging from how dry your tongue is.

Good lord.

Your bladder gives you a good out. He hops off and helps you slide down (the last time you rode a horse was as a kid, until the Pastor received word from the lord that it diminished the feminine delicacy girls were born to exemplify).

The insides of your thighs is sore. Gonna start chafing, especially in a fucking skirt. You’d like to waddle far enough away Astarion can’t hear you relieve yourself, but that horn still warbles in the distance, and that stupid man can hear a pulse at a hundred feet.

You make it quick. Don’t got no rags to wipe yourself down, and you’re gonna burn this fucking skirt the second you find some goddamn pants.

Then you have to walk back to Astarion, the both of you knowing all of that, and climb back up and pretend everything is peachy keen.

He still loops both arms around you. Keeps his grip loose enough even as you nudge the lizard into a bizarre, alligator shuffle.

Are…are you a couple now? You don’t know the protocol on this between humans from your own culture, let alone Middle fucking Narnia with vampire elves. Maybe his folk don’t got a concept of, like, going steady. Or maybe Astarion (and his dozens of lovers) just aren’t into all that.

What if this was a mistake? You read it all wrong. Wouldn’t be the first time (though usually you’re in the other seat). It was adrenaline and nerves and the come down from, like, trauma. That makes people do weird shit. Like kiss a man. Like kiss a murder hobo of a goblin man who knew you all of a week before he tried to have sex with you.

He’s just…what did he call it? Having fun. Can’t mean much to him.

Right?

You’d be an idiot to think a kiss meant anything. Children do that to each other, even on the farmstead.

Shit, you don’t even know what it could mean. What you’d want out of it. If you’d want out of it.

(He came back for you.)

Y’all depend on each other down here. It’s group survival.

(He said he would leave you, but he came back with a birdshark and got you out.)

Survival bonding. Hardwired instinct to form a group when scared. That’s what let humans survive all kinds of disasters.

(He singled out that drow who hurt you without you saying a damn thing. And he killed Charbroil all slow, too.)

That’s sociopath behavior. Cat behavior, actually, which is about the same thing (and you like cats). The man is interested in not dying again, and getting some tail—

“Darling,” he says. Holy god his voice is right in your ear.

You really hope he doesn’t notice the quiver that shoots down your spine. But he probably did, because 1. That is precisely your luck and 2. He’s right against your back.

How is he having that effect on you?

(You’ve been feeling it the whole time, huh.)

No, you have not. You would have noticed.

(Been building like water trickling out under a dam. A drip, drip, drip eroding soil, excavating a cavern, hollowing the earth.)

No. He’s funny and fucked up and interesting, but you meet plenty of people, especially recently, that meet that criteria.

(Weakening the ground until it finally gives and the whole thing collapses in on itself and swallows a house whole. That’s you, babygirl.)

“Fuck off,” you say.

And finally notice the bottle Astarion wiggles at you, next to your head. It’s almost the same color as a healing potion, but in a slightly larger container and with a deeper hue.

“Sorry, what?” you say.

“Drink this,” Astarion says.

Y’all should save it—

“Darling. Drink.” He ain’t gonna hear talk about saving just now. You’re still recovering, and you both need to get to safety.

The bones of your hands still ache. The beds of your nails tingle in a way that makes you think of tissue decay and nail beds blackening and falling off.

You sigh and slam it back. Let Astarion take the bottle from you (and shout when he tosses it over his shoulder). But you ain’t gonna turn around to get it. And it does soothe the tingling. Brings warmth back to the pads of your fingers.

So you sigh and settle in. Nudge the lizard into a run. This time, Astarion clings to you. Tucks his face against the back of your neck and his breath fans over you (goosebumps sweep up your arms and down your chest) and you try to tell yourself it’s just to make y’all more aerodynamic.

[dragonmouses]

Neither of them die but they still can't stand each other AU :

Frankenstein : For what it's worth... I'm sorry I failed you as a "father''.

Adam : It's a shame it had to wait all the harm done.

Frankenstein : Say the guy who couldn't wait to actually meet me before murdering a child out of spite.

Adam : Say the guy who wished he could have abort me 1 minute after I was born just because I'm ugly.

Frankenstein : Say the...

Clerval : Will the two of you shut up ?

[trinityofone]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Doctor Who (2005), Doctor Who & Related Fandoms Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Fifteenth Doctor & Fourteenth Doctor (Doctor Who) Characters: Fifteenth Doctor (Doctor Who), Fourteenth Doctor (Doctor Who), Donna Noble Additional Tags: Episode: s14e08 Empire of Death (Doctor Who), Timeless Child Arc (Doctor Who), Self-Comfort (literal), Therapy, Gardens & Gardening, Time Lord Retirement, The Doctor Is Life Summary:

“You!” said the Doctor, stepping out of the TARDIS and fixing the Doctor with a heated stare.

“Me?” asked the Doctor, sitting up and accidentally slopping a bit of mojito onto his hand.

“Are you getting better?” demanded the Doctor, studying him intently.

“…Yes?”

“Well,” said the Doctor, clutching the door of the TARDIS tightly, “do it faster!”

[transingthoseformers]

Oh god the mental image I just got

The council just going

Orion Pax! Stop knocking up the Prime!! We need him!!!

Sdfdsdg I mean hey the matrix is meant to create

Blame the matrix on helping Orion breed Megs

[natolesims]

Okay. So Grey still likes Nina AND Nina still likes Grey, but things are super awkward between them. Still, both try to keep things cool between them as ✨friends✨

...Even if that adds to the awkwardness.

[b-rainlet]

I like to imagine Aegon and Helaena spending time together in Helaena's chambers. They don't talk or anything, Helaena probably does her stitching while Aegon watches her/the kids, but he doesn't mock Helaena when she starts mumbling her strange dream-like prophecies under her breath and she doesn't scold him when he fills his cup yet again or slouches or flops into the pillows in a way unbefitting of a (future) King and it's just this quiet moment of mutual understanding between them.

[justpked]

"Don't capture any of the walking red-flags, no matter if you're color-blind or if red is your favorite color; obssession is quite terrifying to dabble with."

PK don't threaten us with a good time /j

I literally finished reading that post and a MC was immediately created from the thought vortex I call my brain. She's going to be so panicked at the situation, I love it.

I'm unsure who I pity more.

Isekai!MC who is trying to find a peaceful life in the horny world, and also die for any uncertain reason because of their choices-

OR

WtSB!MC who can become a certified Monsterfucker and maybe die or something

[hereforyourdispleasure]

My parents ability to say I'd love the new doctor who specials because they're diverse and they loved them while deadnaming and misgendering me like they're being paid has got to be my favourite demonstration of the duality of man

[edge-oftheworld]

friends of friends is back?

[bvlladonnas]

closed / @hntedhouse, for drew location / the park

oh ! well — when freya lowered their binoculars ( trying to find a particularly elusive bird that did not want to come out ), they absolutely did not expect to be met with a ... creature. instinctively they feel the need to scream, but they school that quickly, eyes flicking up to look from the haunting ones of the furby to the man holding it, " hi, drew. is this the ... long furby ? " it had to have been. clearly. it was long, and a furby. " it's beautiful. you, um — you make these things fast ! "

[drhu0806]

Watching IT as they remote in to try and help with a problem I have and wincing as they struggle to use the command prompt

[transingthoseformers]

Half the appeal of Dratchrod for me is I have a specific image of Rodimus working hard to learn to apply Drift's makeup right with Ratchet who has a steady hand but no aesthetic tastes and Rodimus who has Drift's taste but is shit at painting in neat lines. The two are fussing about getting it right because Ratchet keeps using crimson instead of cardinal and Rodimus cannot do a straight line to save his life but neither want Drift to left a finger because ot is for him and he keeps laughing so hard they have to stop.

Yes exactly yes exactly

Rodimus is trying, he's trying he swears he's trying.

Ratchet is firmly in the "red is red" territory

Drift is having the time of his life

[i-may-be-an-emu]

Reblog if you respect fast food workers.

[bucktitties]

writers of 911 STOP MAKING ME NOT HATE THE BUCKLEY PARENTS T___T