#beats free use

[bet-on-me-13]

The cult of...Danny Fenton?

So! Way back when Danny first moved into his new neighborhood in Gotham, he had some trouble controlling his Powers. The different Types and Levels of Ectoplasm in the air when compared to Amity had thrown off his control.

He was used to being in places where his Ectoplasm meshed well with the Atmosphere, like a Water Balloon in a Pool, but in Gotham that analogy would be closer to a Water Balloon in the sewers. It was too different from what he was used to to fully control his Powers.

So it's understandable that he messed up a few times and his neighbors found out about his Abilities.

They took it well at first, Danny wasn't going to go Rogues or anything, and he never used them maliciously, but eventually they got curious.

They asked what his limits were, how he got them in the first place, and what the hell the Ghost Zone was. The answers "None Really", "I died and was reborn", and "A Collective of every Afterlife at once" did spark some interesting reactions from them.

Most importantly, a few of them joked about him being an Eldritch God that they needed to worship. He was good enough friends with them that at that point they felt comfortable pranking eachother, so they did just that.

Danny woke up one day on his birthday, and saw all of his friends and neighbors surrounding the makeshift Throne they had made and put him on while he was asleep. The entire day they chanted stuff like "The Great One requires Ms. Smiths Apple Pie for his day of birth!" And "The Great One Wishes for us to sing the Ritual Song! Happy Birthday to You! Happy Birth-"

After his birthday, they kept up the joke.

It didn't help that his powers had evolved Again! And now he could bestow abilities onto his friends. The jokes they made about their God granting them Supernatural Powers to rule the world with were insufferable.

Then, one day while he was just resting at home, watching a movie on his TV, he felt a Pull at his Core. The same kind of Pull whenever he was being summoned. But why would they summon hi- Oh Shit! It's Mr Jenkins Party today! He was supposed to meet them at the Warehouse they used for special events an Hour Ago!

He quickly accepted the Summoning, but was met with a suprising sight. His Neighbors all tied up in a pile to his right, a spilled table of party food to his left, and right in front of him, Batman and his Family watching him with wary eyes.

Slowly, he opened his mouth. "...so, did you come for the party or..."

[asha-mage]

Metaphor: reFantazio really stares you dead in the eye and says 'democracy is not some magical system that ensures moral good. Even if you could take away all the barriers and practical difficulties, even if you could guarantee beyond a shadow of a doubt that the entire nation voted, and the vote could not be tampered with, and that it was a genuine expression of their true belief of who was most fit to rule with no other concerns taken into consideration- that still would not keep people from elevating strongmen and demagogues and tyrants. Their is no promise that the 'will of the people' will always be the most moral, the most practical, or the most wise choice. People are short sighted and easily swayed and ruled by their biases and instincts, and more then that they often lack the time energy and understanding to make the most wise choice.'

And then as you are staring into the black void of hopelessness it keeps going and says 'And that's okay. People have lived beneath unjust, imperfect systems since the dawn of civilization. All these things, from Republics, to Theocracies, to Monarchies, to Dictatorships- they are all human creations and so reflect human flaws. It's okay. It doesn't mean you stop living, stop helping other people, stop trying to do the best for those you care for. It doesn't absolve you of your duties and responsibilities to others. Dream of a better world, and do what you can for the people you can and you might just make the world a better place, the same way everyone throughout history has- one day a time, and one choice after another.'

[sutorus]

OFF TO THE RACES

DESCRIPTION: toji takes you to bet on one of his races.

PAIRING: toji x reader

WC: 1.9k

WARNINGS: 18+ MDNI. f! reader, afab terms, age gap, implied free use, heavy implied dubcon, in public, fingering (f! receiving), come eating (f!), crying, pet names (babydoll, honey, s!ut), heavy objectification 

A/N: yes i grew up on ldr i love my (((strictly fictional))) old men sue me!

“you better start praying number four catches up soon, babydoll,” he whispers into your ear, snaking a hand around your waist. 

a chill runs down your spine and your body rattles violently in response. 

he had told you to dress up today. 

how naive you were, thinking he’d just said that because it was a nice date, because the type of people that enjoy horse races don’t usually wear flip flops or show their midriffs. 

if only you had known.

you’re trying to hide it, but you’re nervous.

you can’t help it, constantly sneaking sideway glances at the two imposing men who have been staring at you this entire time. 

it would be an unbelievable situation, if it wasn’t toji. not for the first time, you wonder why you ever got involved with him. 

the lip scar should’ve been enough of a warning. the intentionally vague answer he gave about his job should’ve been enough, the decades — plural — that separated you two should’ve been enough. 

but he was a smooth talker. and he was good looking. and he made you feel safe, mostly because, well… who could be more dangerous than him? 

that feeling has never been more prevalent to you than it is right now. 

toji’s gaze follows yours, his fingertips sneaking under your skirt just barely. 

“don’t look so spooked,” he instructs, and you swallow around the lump in your throat. toji laughs low, letting his head loll sideways on top of yours. “you scared of dick or somethin’?”

you hate this. you hate this so much. you hate the way your body’s responding to it the most. 

the heat in your gut spreads all the way up to your cheeks, and you stop yourself from soothing your burning face with the back of your hands. 

he’d told you not to draw too much attention. not to make any sudden movements. you thought it was because — you thought, you thought, you thought. but you were wrong. 

you can’t decide if you can even blame yourself for that. 

you knew toji was running out of money. you knew he was involved with some shady people. 

but when in your wildest dreams could you have imagined he was planning on using you as a betting chip?

the disapproving click of his tongue pulls you from your thoughts, and your eyes lock dreadfully on horse number four. 

it’s falling behind, number six stealing third place from it. 

the heat inside you spreads further. 

“if it’s any consolation,” toji says, conversationally. “i don’t think they’ll be too mean to ya.”

it reminds you of a nature documentary you watched, once. the gazelle, trying to act nonchalant, looking for an escape route, when faced with a pride of lions. a dangerous dance. and everybody knows who’s got the upper hand, there. 

“not meaner than i am, at least,” he adds. 

your shut your eyes tightly. 

you haven’t even dared to look at them properly, at toji’s sponsors or loan sharks or whatever the hell they are. 

you want to scream at him, at how embarrassing it is that they’re younger than him and richer than him, having fun at both of your expenses. 

you realize suddenly that they’re not even here to watch the race. this place probably doesn't entertain them anymore, more of a chore than anything else.

they’re here to watch you, sweating and fidgeting on your seat with the knowledge that your body was theirs if the damn horse didn’t win. 

a one in eight change. 

god, you hoped it was toji’s lucky day. 

you catch a glimpse of a wild, tall figure to the left of you, swaying in gleeful laughter as the horse falls to fifth place.  

“let’s go home,” you grip the hand that’s resting on your leg in a last ditch effort. 

it’s useless, of course.

toji’s jaw is tensed, every muscle tight in anger. 

he doesn’t want this, either. he doesn’t like sharing you. 

but then again, he doesn’t really care about you, does he? cares more about his money, at least. 

your breathing starts to pick up, legs shaking in anticipation. in a way, you just want this to be over. 

you’re so caught up in your dread that you don’t even notice toji’s fingers crawling up your thigh until his knuckles are grazing your clothed pussy. 

your body immediately seizes up, your straightened spine glued to the back of your chair.

he gives a low, mean chuckle when he feels how wet you are. 

toji rubs you there almost soothingly, and tears threaten to spill from your eyes. 

your fists are clenched tightly on your lap, legs squeezing together in an attempt to — what? you don’t know. 

stop him? encourage him? it doesn’t feel like it matters anymore. 

toji shifts in his seat to face you, slipping the pads of his fingers into your panties. you huff, only able to watch the movement of his hand underneath your skirt. 

he rubs lazy circles on your clit, eyes on your face and showing no emotion at all.

no remorse at all. 

it feels good. it feels good and you hate that it does, that it feels good with him, that he can get you like this anytime, anywhere. 

you bite down on your bottom lip when two fingers slide down, just teasing your entrance, gliding over your pussy. 

your chest burns from the inside out with uneven breaths, and defeatedly, willingly, you spread your legs just a little bit. 

you’re not watching the race anymore and you think that’s for the better. you focus only on toji’s veiny forearms as the muscles there work over and over with every stroke of his fingers. 

someone clears their throat loudly and your legs kick out in shock. 

an initial wave of panic washes over you but then you’re glad.

surely getting caught fingering your girlfriend at a horse race would get you kicked out, right? and then the deal is over, right? and then you won’t have to—

before you can even vocalize your thoughts, toji’s rolling his eyes and, with a sigh, settling back on his seat to face the race. 

but his fingers don’t leave you. 

no, he continues pumping them lazily in and out of you, thumb pressing down on your clit and rubbing little circles. 

and that’s when you realize the sound had come from the left of you. from the men. not a horrified gasp, a dignified warning, no.

if anything, an entitled demand that toji stops blocking their view of you. 

you wish you could cry right now.

instead, you tuck your chin into your chest as toji speeds up his movements, going a little faster, a little meaner. you swallow your wails, thighs shaking.

those men, they don’t look like they kill. they probably get other people to do that for them. you haven’t gathered a lot from your stolen glances but that much you’re sure of. 

you know you’ll return home to toji. despite everything, you’ll run back to his arms, for better or for worse. 

“you likin’ this?” he’s asking, like he doesn’t know the answer. “y’like that i bet your slutty little cunt on that rank, good for nothing horse?”

you let out a sob, chest lurching. he pumps his fingers in and out of you at just the right pace, hitting just the right patches despite how hard you’re squeezing around him. 

“please…” you mewl, not sure what you’re asking for. 

his thumb is relentless on your clit, rubbing it over and over again. your hips buck on their own, wanting more, more friction, more filling, more. 

“you’ll get more soon, whore,” toji spits out like he can read your mind. there’s no point in hiding how much you’re enjoying this, being in public, being eyed hungrily like a prize, when toji knows your body so well. 

it feels almost like he’s prepping you, physically and mentally, for what’s to come, and it makes you weep harder. 

when a wave of astonished cheers break out in unison, it sounds miles away to you. all you can is the blood rushing inside your ears, toji’s huffed out breaths, the crinkle of bills being passed around from one hand to another. 

you’re slow to notice the commotion is due to horse number four miraculously catching up, coming in at number two now.

dangerously close to first place. 

it’s a rush, all at once, when toji turns your head to kiss you. 

you come undone on his fingers, right then and there, whining crazed moans into his mouth. he groans when your cunt clenches, fluttering around his fingers as the last waves of your orgasm hit you. 

if you focus hard enough, you can hear the shlick of his fingers lazily helping you ride out your high. you can’t help it but to let your head fall on his chest.

when toji pulls his fingers out of you, there are webs of slick in between them. you feel almost embarrassed, even more so when he brings them up to your mouth quickly, pushing in between your lips with ease. 

you suck efficiently to clean him up and toji hums in approval, petting your hair. 

there’s an instant where you two look in each other’s eyes and that’s all there is, your fucked out brain forgetting everything except for his touch. 

“ahh,” then a merry voice breaks you out of your trance, its owner casting a shadow over both your bodies as he stands in front of you. “i hate to ruin the moment, really, but…”

the man points his thumb over his shoulder.

the race is over.

horse number four came in at fourth place. 

how fitting. 

his partner approaches and there’s no denying it, they’re extremely attractive. individually, yes, but maybe even more so together, side by side, looking like opposites who came together due to being... likeminded.

but still. are they really going to—

“collect,” the other one says, sternly, with his hands up like he’s a good guy. “satoru. we’re just here to collect. no need to rub salt in the wound.” 

toji chuckles, but you catch the way his shoulders tense. 

“hey, a deal’s a deal. but no wounds here,” he looks at you briefly before squinting up at them. “doubt you two kids can do half the damage.”

that i can is left unsaid. you fight hard to keep the horrified look off your face. 

toji was already pimping you out to these random men, essentially. did he have to provoke them, too?

you resent the fact that the dread in the pit of your stomach isn’t big enough to push away the arousal growing next to it. 

there’s another reason why you and toji fit so well together, after all. 

the taller one — satoru — laughs, and this one’s genuine.

he reaches out tentatively, as if he were petting a stray cat, and twirls a piece of your hair around his finger. 

toji looks at him in understanding, in agreement. 

when he doesn’t react any further, satoru’s finger trails down to your lips, still glistening wet. he traces them, jutting his own out in a pout. 

“she better be worth every penny you cost us, zen’in.”

toji smirks.

you notice the other man, the one with black hair and a bun, is hard in his tailored slacks. 

you swallow down the last of your sobs.

“oh, she is," toji's hand gives your thigh a departing tap. "i might have shit taste in horses but i know how to pick my sluts."

[that1notetaker]

Happy, happy Hotel.

[joaniejustwokeup]

DPxDC Prompt:

The next blow sent the human tumbling into the wall. It wheezed and spat up a gob of blood, pulling itself up on trembling arms and legs.

Pathetic.

“So this is the mortal who captured our young king’s attention. The so-called warrior who he trusted with the sacred duty of guarding his core.”

A shadowed hand pinned it to the wall and it uselessly pawed at the blade-like claws pressed against its fragile throat.

“How a weakling like you seduced High King Phantom, I’ll never know.”

The human squeezed its eyes shut. I’m sorry Danny, it mouthed with cracked and bleeding lips.

The impudence.

Slammed into the ruined bricks once more, the human let out a breathless cry.

“You dare address him like that. You dare to call upon his living name!” Dagger sharp teeth dripped shadowy ectoplasm inches from the mortal’s flesh.

“I’m doing him a favor, disposing of you.”

There was silence.

Then.

The human looked up with glowing green eyes.

A wave of unearthly force erupted from its body.

A dual layered voice echoed out from its miserable throat.

“Oh you just made a BIG mistake.”

[awhoreintheory]

(different anon) another angst idea :D Peter seeing his uncle using a gun, a weapon he despises because it so easily took away his uncle's life and destroyed his world

It will probably cause conflicted feelings for Peter

Also welcome!! Thank you for the ask :) I hope I did it justice <33

Peter won't lie. He may have gotten... attached.

Ok, ok, it sounds like a recipe for disaster. Spending time with his not-uncle from another universe? Definitely not what Mr. Falcon would've recommended, but it was actually really... nice.

He— Jason, not Benjamin here— was so like his Uncle Ben. The way he spoke, the way he laughed, even down to his reading taste. But he was so different, too. He carried himself with caution, he had more scars, his mannerisms were just slightly off, and doesn't talk about family. Ever.

Uncle Ben had loved his family so much.

His uncle had been a firefighter, then when he retired he became a police officer. He was a good man who wanted to give back to his community.

Jason wasn't a firefighter or a police officer. He said he handled real estate, and that's why he had so many apartment buildings. But, unfortunately for Jason, Peter wasn't born yesterday.

Jason was still a good man, and he did good, just... not in the same way as Uncle Ben. Peter assumed he was running with that crime lord, Red Hood. In Peter's opinion, he sounded a little scary. Who wouldn't think that when he first appeared with the flourish of eight severed heads?

But the Red Hood guy (crime lord? Anti hero? Vigilante?) Also actively tried to help Crime Alley— where Peter was currently squatting, so he consequently cared for.

Peter trailed behind Uncle— Jason, just Jason. His spidey sense adored the guy, and he knew all the cheapest places to get groceries. Also, everyone steers clear of him. No one's ever so much as attempted to mug him, which is a genuine accomplishment in this place.

"So, how long are you plannin' to follow me, kiddo?" Jason asked around a smirk, turning around just as Peter lost his cover.

Seriously, how does this guy do that??

Peter gave an exaggerated frown, running to catch up with Jason's long strides. "Seriously, how do you do that?? Are you sure you're a normal guy?" Peter gave a skeptical look, but fell into step with with his not-uncle.

"You follow me every Saturday. Are you sure you're a normal kid?" Jason gave him a skeptical look back, but otherwise slowed down for Peter.

"Hey! You always find the best prices for groceries, I need your tutelage." Peter gave a small, teasing grin. It really was like arguing with his uncle.

Jason reached out, ruffling Peter's hair. Peter batted him away, sticking his tongue out. "Ok, but in return, I need some help with my computer. It ain't workin' again. I'll pay ya'."

Peter raised an eyebrow. "You're seriosuly terrible with tech." Just like his uncle.

Jason swatted at him playfully.

Peter wasn't sure if, or how, Jason knew he was homeless, but he always helped him buy non perishables that didn't need a refrigerator or to be cooked. He was thoughtful like his uncle, in that regard.

It was... nice. Being able to shop with his Uncle. Or, well, Jason. (He really needed to start enforcing that distinction before it backfired on him.) Aunt May had been a terrible cook, so Uncle Ben did most of the cooking. He taught Peter most of everything he knew, too.

Peter thanked his uncle Jason for the help shyly, promising to make it up to him by fixing his computer for free. (Jason never let him do it for free.)

Jason watched the new Alley kid, Peter Parker, walk away. From what he'd heard, he was a skittish teen who knew his way around the shadows. A little naive, but otherwise he held his own. And, for some ungodly reason, he'd taken a shine to Jason. Not Red Hood, not Jason Todd-Wayne, just Jason the apartment guy who knew where all the good sales were.

Peter looked at him sometimes like he hung the moon, and other times with bitter nostalgia. He was about 94% sure Peter was an orphan, so maybe Jadon reminded him of a parent? Or at least someone who wasn't around anymore. It was hard to tell, with how the kids had no records, and getting him to talk about his past was like pulling teeth out of a Super.

Jason let Peter turn the corner before he started to follow. Ducking into alleys and staying a healthy distance away, Jason just wanted to make sure the Kid got back to his squat ok.

Except, just a couple minutes from where Peter was staying, he was suddenly dragged into an alley. No one looked or noticed, but Jason did.

Jason did, and he was fucking pissed.

Grabbing his spare gun, Jason rushed to help his kid Peter.

—

Peter was getting mugged for his groceries. Which wasn't desirable, as his stomach was an endless pit the consumed enough for a family of six, so he was ready to knock a guy out then head back to his place.

Except... then his uncle came rushing in, telling the man to "get the fuck away before you get hurt".

His Uncle always came rushing in like this in his nightmares. Unarmed and with that limp he got from a burning beam falling on him with he was younger and a firefighter. He would rush in, yelling and unarmed, trying to save his dumbass nephew from getting shot.

He would always get shot, he'd fall, the mugger would run away, and he'd bleed out in Peter's arms.

It was his nightmare that repeated every so often, typically joined with a nightmare about May and Tony's death, too.

Except this time... his uncle had the gun.

Jason had the gun.

"I said, back the fuck away before I blow your brains out." Jason snarled, his finger flexing over the trigger in warning.

Peter stared, his mouth filling with cotton and everything going mute.

His uncle was pointing a gun at someone, ready to shoot.

His uncle was holding the thing that killed him.

Peter felt ready to throw up.

The would-be-robber dropped his knife, running away. But Peter's eyes never left his uncles hands, in the smooth and familiar way he operated the gun. How ready he was to shoot someone with it.

Its not... Peter knows, second amendment and all. It's a person's right to own a gun. It should be for protection, but it could just as easily end someone's life.

It ended his uncles.

As a police officer, sure he owned a gun, but it was always kept firmly locked up. He'd never even seen his uncle in the same room as a gun, much less holding one.

It was wrong.

"Pete, hey hey, you're ok, Peter?" His uncle kneeled in front of Peter. When had he ended up on the ground?

He continued to stare at the gun. His uncle took the hint and tucked it away with a practiced motion.

Peter's eyes watered, and he leaned over, expelling the hot dog his uncle bought him earlier. His uncle rubbed his back as he threw up, comforting him, albeit a little awkwardly.

When Peter looked back up, he saw his uncles blue— green eyes, his white and black hair, and the unfamiliar 'J' shaped scar marring his cheek, and remembered.

'This isn't my uncle.'

'This isn't my home.'

And the worst part? He felt sadder about his uncle than his home.

He had nothing to go back to, after all.

[repulsive-manwhore]

girls that use motherly trauma against guys in bed to make them extremely violent

🤝

guys that use fatherly trauma against girls in bed to make them scared, submissive and horny

[bloodyrib]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE CUTEST MAN ALIVE DAVID HOWARD THORNTON!!! 🎂🎂

[elderwisp]

◁ || ▷

Atlas: Taryn? Hey!

Atlas: What happened-

Taryn: Please don’t. 

Atlas: Can you talk to me?

Taryn: [ strained ] What is there to say that you don’t already know? I keep asking myself why you’re so nice to me all of a sudden. Why would someone like you be around someone like me and it’s such a… Mind-fuck. 

Atlas: I swear to you, it isn’t like that-

Taryn: Am I just a one night stand?

Atlas: [ stammers ] N-No! 

Taryn: Convincing.

Atlas: I’m sorry it wasn’t a good enough response, I’m just caught off guard. Why would you assume that?

Taryn: Because my questions made sense the minute you walked out of that building and there was lipstick smeared all over your face. Then you gave me this look, something about it made me realize I wasn’t the first and I don’t think I’d be the last. 

Atlas: [ flatly ] We didn’t even catch each other's name, that’s how little it meant. 

Taryn: [ barely a whisper ] Oh now that’s incredibly fucked up… Was that supposed to make me feel better?

Atlas: Bee-

Taryn: [ voice breaks ] Was it worth it? [ pauses ] Don’t… Answer that. I’m… Gonna go now.

[glitchyanimations]

From the river to the sea, Palestine will be free! 🍉

WE ARE NINTENDO!

[luck-of-the-drawings]

!!! FLASHING LIGHTS WARNING!!! [IM NOT FUCKIN AROUND!!]

REACHED THE CUSP OF 'THIS MAY NEVER BE ABSOLUTELY FINISHED N IF I DONT SHOW IT NOW, IT WILL NEVER SEE THE LIGHT OF DAY.' SO HERE, A PROJECT IVE BEEN ORBITING AROUND UHH SINCE 2021 OR SO.

[ganondoodle]

seeing the video of palestinians tearing down the apartheid wall and i cant help but feel a similar kind of joy as when seeing the pictures from when the wall seperating germany fell, with masses of people storming it and helping each other climb qwq

[w1lmuttart]

Oc sketch and rant incoming

Also trigger warning for blood and death

You know, I have always thought one thing was kinda odd whenever there's a story of characters from a modern setting having to battle supernatural beings. Whether it's isekai, urban fantasy etc. It's like the one thing that I don't question as much when it's a fantasy setting cuz i can imagine it being something that's part of the characters' lived experiences/lifestyles. That thing is: how come characters don't feel like using weapons to kill living beings viscerally uncomfortable? And I don't mean it in a "oh no I just killed, I'm a murderer now :(((" type of way but like,,, the sensation of it especially if the character is using a sword or other melee weapon. Unless you are working at a butchers, have dissected a frog in biology class or work as a doctor of any kind, you're not really getting to deal with this kind of sensation on a daily basis. Idk I feel like it's a bit of a missed opportunity to develop your character. With that being said

This guy is part of an isekai story/parody thing I've been wanting to make, where I take both the "bland overpowered harem guy who thrives on this world" protagonist and "edgy survival game guy who will take any action to get home" protagonist and put them in another world together. This guy is the latter, and I wanted to explore his journey into becoming a lethal swordsman by having him train to get used to handling it by using small monsters as practice.

So uh ye tldr I feel like there's a little number of people in our current day who would be able to handle weapons against monsters and such without struggles, and I'm tired that stories (especially anime) pretend it isn't 👍

[aq2003]

i was the target demographic of "fan who would hate this season the most". my critrole tastes were specifically aligned and designed in a lab to hate nearly every single creative decision and change that was made

[mars-ipan]

happy early discount chocolate day