#bit more of an explanation under the cut

[fantastic-mr-corvid]

my brain-fog has been particularly bad recently, which is why i haven't been participating in the ask games going around & been quieter in general. its nothing personal just my brain not performing well & thus increasing my anxiety

my brainfog really messes with my ability to say/write the right words, and especially think through what im saying, as well as messing with my memory.

normally i just need to jog my memory to make sure i am asking/saying something relevant to the character, and not something ive hallucinated [normally just to double check and soothe my anxiety about getting it wrong], but brainfog really drains my ability to do that, and massively increases my anxiety,

so its a double issue of i dont feel confident in what i remember/am saying, and my anxiety is very high, and they feed into each other until i cant do anything.

or even by the time i have formulated/types a reply its already been to long and the conversation has moved on.

also it thickens and thins very quickly, so i can go from chatting to unable to say anything really quickly, as well as some forms of communication being harder than others at different times, so its really not personal if i say, am making tumblr posts but only reacting w emojis on discord

[ink-the-artist]

I love your artwork so much! Your colors are so vibrant and none of the white speckles in the paper ever shows, its so impressive and I really dig it! I was wondering if you use any sort of blending medium? Like baby oil or anything? Either way, I really enjoy looking at your artwork and I'm always excited to see whatever you'll make next

I use a colorless blender (prismacolor, which is wax-based so baby oil probably wouldnt work) but my scanner is also rly bad about picking up white specks in a way photographing the art with my phone isnt, so I usually have to do some digital editing to get rid of them as well.

I do this by duplicating the layer, setting the one on top to "darken," and using the mixer brush to blend out the white spots + just use the eyedropper tool to select the color of that area (needs to be a slightly lighter shade of it) and color over the white spots with the brush tool

i edited a small bit of the original scan to show what i mean

original:

with the edited layer:

heres how it looks set to normal instead of darken, I used both the mixing brush and regular brush just to demo it

[bluegiragi]

learning moment (part 1)

early access + nsfw on patreon monster!AU masterpost

more explanation under the cut

I think that so far, Soap has clearly demonstrated himself to be the more emotionally intelligent one of the pair, but it doesn't mean he doesn't still get frustrated at times. He's also just an emotional guy, and is working himself up a bit. This is a difficult topic for him to want to remain calm over, and there's a lot of factors contributing to his reaction.

One big factor is that he is a werewolf and he sees things through the eyes of his human side and wolf side. The shades of grey that Ghost sees in the Mexico operation just isn't there for Soap - to him, Ghost's 'pack' was under attack and he successfully defended it (this 'pack instinct' is something he shares with Price). The fact that his wolf now considers Ghost his in some way also contributes to his upset over having to read about what happened to him in such a clinical way. Werewolves can be kind of irrationally territorial, and although Soap is used to reading reports just like this, the fact that it's concerning Ghost (in probably the most vulnerable state of his life) is raising his hackles.

It's not a fight, because at the end of the day, Soap isn't mad at Ghost, just at his circumstances. But he's basically just asserting some emotional boundaries here with Ghost (who is, for what it's worth, I'd say a bit surprised and mostly bemused here.)

[monstersflashlight]

Day 17. Monster-kinktober: Full moon + Swallowing/Cock Warming

A/N: Inspired by this post by @davinawritings. Also sorry (not sorry) because I feel like this is the 4th werewolf this month but I just fucking love werewolves. Enjoy!

Werewolf x fem!reader || cock-warming, teasing, oral sex, (lowkey) dirty talk

Your boyfriend usually had an incredible stamina, but full moon fucks were out of this world. You always ended up exhausted and so fucked out you couldn’t sit properly for the next couple days. Thanks the goddess it only happened once a month or you’d be fucked… in a bad way (and in a good way).

That’s why you don’t act surprised when he appears in the door of your home office, a huge erection in his gray sweats and the biggest smile on his lips. He looks obscene like that, your wettest of dreams… and he’s all yours.

“You know I need to prep you so you are ready for the full moon tonight,” he offers as an explanation for his sudden appearance.

“I know you do, but I can’t do it right now, I have work!” You try to argue, just for him to walk to you and pull you off your chair, sitting there himself and then sitting you back onto his lap.

You are still facing the computer, but the cock under your hot center is so hard and tempting that you can’t avoid rolling your hips to create a bit of friction. You groan and curse him for chuckling.

“See? Now you can do both,” he smiles and kisses your neck as you try to focus your attention back to the screen.

His hands pull your legs apart as he starts rubbing your clit slowly over your pants. You try to focus on your work, but you are completely unable to read a single line on the email because he’s so distracting. It’s not your fault that dating a werewolf has turned you into a desperate mess every time his dick was involved. He shouldn’t be so good at it if he wanted you to be normal about it.

“You are distracting me!” He chuckles but doesn’t stop, his fingers pressing hard against your clit through the fabric, so good, but not nearly enough. “Ugh, fine. Let me take the pants off first at least, I don’t want them ripped open like last time.” You tell him, your hand stopping his when he tries to open your pants to slip his hand inside.

He laughs at your acceptance, caressing your ass as soon as you uncover it. Your tiny thong doesn’t get the best of treatments, being ripped away in one fast movement before you can take it off. Fucking wolves.

He keeps moving his hand in the way that drives you completely insane, his fingers probing and touching, rubbing and fingering… You are dripping wet around his hand and trying to respond to the damn email. He doesn’t say anything, but he starts breathing harder and harder behind you, his hips pushing up in tiny thrusts that tease you with the promise of a good dicking.

“I need to work,” you remind him, frustrated in every way possible. Especially sexually.

“Sorry, sorry, I’ll stop. Let me just…” You hear the sound of a zipper being pulled down, and then something pressing against your pussy.

“Don’t you-” Your phrase is cut short when he pushes his dick inside your wet heat and you groan. “Fuck, okay, but don’t move, I need to work.” You remind him, again.

You’ve played cock-warming before, he loves to feel you stretched around him, and loves even more when you fall asleep with him inside of you, so he can fuck you as soon as he wakes up. The little somno fantasy was one of yours, but he indulges in it more than enough.

He kisses your neck tenderly. “Okay, honey, I’ll be quiet and still. Do your thing.”

But he’s neither quiet or still. He moves his hips in tiny circles, he “accidentally” rubs your clit with his thumb with the excuse of readjusting your hips for more comfort. He caresses the insides of your thighs until you are panting, his dick buried inside of you.

When you let out a groan, he chuckles, his finger instantly finding your clit and rubbing it until you are coming apart over him. He doesn’t come, he doesn’t say anything. He just stays inside of you as you try to re-focus on the work.

It takes you twice the amount of time as it should to answer all the emails. You know you won’t be able to focus anymore with him there, especially being a full moon. Without saying anything, you stand up before him, his dick still hard as you turn and look down at him. He looks wild, his eyes unfocused and his dick leaking profusely. He’s feral in the prettiest way possible.

He looks at you with reverence. “Please, please, please, honey… I need, I need…” He doesn’t get to finish his phrase, your brain already knowing exactly what he needs. Your pussy is not ready, but you have other perfectly fine holes, and his dick always tastes better when he’s been inside of you anyway.

You fall to your knees in front of him and smile at his leaking cock, your lips coming around his tip instantly. His hips move imperceptibly under you, trying to remain as still as possible as you suck him slowly, drawing his pleasure until he has tears in his eyes and you feel like a goddess. He doesn’t say anything, tries to remain in his best behaviour as you swallow around him, making him moan your name in a filthy way.

“Do you… Can I? Are you gonna swallow, honey?” He asks.

You nod around his shaft, your hand squeezing on his knot as he cries out over your head and spills his seed deep in your throat, making you choke slightly and pull out. It always amazes you how much he can come during the full moon. He ends up coming all over your chin and tits, making a mess out of you (like always).

“Fuck, you look indecent like that,” he says in the most broken way he can muster. You smile, your tongue darting out to lick some of his come out of your lower lip. He groans and picks you up, throwing you over his shoulder and walking you to the bed, his dick hard once again.

Full moon days are awesome.

(You don’t get to go out and run under the full moon because by that time, your pussy is already overflowing with his seed and you are so exhausted you pass out… with his cock still inside of you.)

[illusioncanthurtme--art]

A very self indulgent Billford playlist!

Self indulgent, because this music does not appeal to the masses at all; these songs are limited to the stuff I listen to. So I’m being VERY transparent about my embarrassing taste in music right now! Plus, NOBODY ASKED FOR THIS!!! But I hope some of these resonate with you. This is a little collection I’ve formed in my phone notes since I got into this ship a couple weeks ago.

Not a fancy spotify playlist, it’s just links to the music on youtube. 

I’ve got this divided into parts:

-The Billford Songs

-The In This Moment Billford Songs

SO MUCH of their music is enemies/lovers perfection. I’ve thought about so many *killing you but also making out with you* pairings to this shit, because these songs were like, DESIGNED to be recycled for any and all love hate relationships, and still hit insanely hard EVERY TIME. So now that you have these songs under your belt, you have them FOREVER. You’re welcome. I haven’t even listened to all their music, I’m sure there’s more songs for this category that I simply haven’t discovered.

-The…Maybe…Billford Songs

My standards were kinda high for making this list. But every song is about your ship when you’re insane, right??? So these are the maybe’s. One’s I’ve thought about billford to, but maybe the lyrics don’t totally align.

Playlist under the cut! I wasn’t gonna ramble about each song but WHOOPS I DID 🤷‍♀️

The Billford songs:

Monophobia - Deadmau5 (Extended version, cuz it’s the best.)

THE LYRICS… THE LYRICS!!!! Definitely bill pining in theraprism. 

Propane Nightmares - Pendulum

This one WAS gonna go in the maybe’s, but I convinced myself otherwise after listening to it eighty more times, and now it’s up here on top. And fuck it, this is the *self indulgent* billford playlist, so I do what I want. I go into a fucking trance when I listen to this song, so I can’t really explain 110% why this is a billford song to me, but I’ll try.  Apparently, this song is about the heavens gate cult. So not enemies/lovers angst. But looking at the lyrics, you could interpret it as giving yourself to something greater, and coming to the realization that what you pledged yourself to is actually a very bad thing which will ultimately destroy you. (also, you can’t deny that there was some cult like manipulation happening with Bill and Ford. Sense of purpose and friendship.) Definitely billford-y when you consider Fords commitment to bill. And I’ll admit, when I listen to it, there is some pov switching. Because the “trail of fire”,  “we will be as one”, and “bring it on home” is VERY reminiscent of bill executing weirdmageddon. So overall, my interpretation of this song is Ford feeling torn about bill, feeling regret, feeling scared, and Bill of course, just wanting to bring the dimensions together. “BRING IT ON HOME!!!!”  Or I just like the song. 

Rule 34 - Fish in a Birdcage

Bestie recommended this song to me. It needs no explanation.

Painkiller - The Queenstons

…NEEDS NO EXPLANATION DSKFDSKJHF It’s similar to the above, just more… scary imo. Violent. Definitely bill being a little psycho. I really love this song. It’s very recyclable too. You have it for any toxic ship now. 

9V - The Queenstons

One of my favorite Lapfox/Halley Labs songs… I’m gonna give you the lyrics, it’s a bit hard to understand without them. In my eyes, it’s about betraying Ford. Also these vocals (and other music by this artist) works so well for bill because of the synthesized voice. 

LoveBOMB - S3RL

This is a new S3RL song. This song sounds like a tantrum, and I really liked it when I first heard it, but it didn't fit anything I was into at the time. Luckily, bill suffered a horrible breakup, and now this song has it’s meaning. 

When I'm There - S3RL

Bill thinking about joining the third dimension with Ford. 

Click Bait - S3RL

I’ve listened to this one a LOT before this, and I surprised myself with how much it aligns with bill, specifically, him tricking Ford.

Space-Time - S3RL

Speaks for itself.

Sodom & Gomorrah - Dorian Electra

This one’s just funny :)

The In This Moment Billford Songs

Sick Like Me

Sexual Hallucination

This is one of those recyclable songs, but I was damn surprised at how well the lyrics suited them, because it alludes to being out of body, possession, etc.

Blood

Half God half devil

Roots

Whore

Damn it, I cant deny this one suits them.

Big Bad Wolf

DAMN IT I wasn’t gonna include this one, but I just checked the lyrics and fuck, it works. In this moment, how are you so wonderful

The…Maybe…Billford Songs

Illuminaughty - Infected Mushroom

I'm kind of grasping at straws with these lyrics, but with a title like that? Come on

The Pretender - Foo Fighters, Infected Mushroom, Turbo Remix

Three versions, for whichever suits your fancy.

Leopold - Infected Mushroom

This one has NO LYRICS, but it has this buildup that sounds really cool, and it has an abrupt decrescendo. Reminds me of their "friendship" and how it all came crashing down.

Idolize - Dorian Electra

Hmmmmm, I just like Dorian. But the idolization thing works for obvious reasons.

That’s it! Hope you enjoy. Maybe I'll do an expansion pack of sorts if I find enough songs for a part 2.

[levshany]

The Shadow House

This is swap au, which main goal was to make Philip Luz's mentor and father figure👉👈. This au is silly. And it's not thought out further than the main gang, so don't ask me questions about its lore, I don't know it myself. But it's still one of my oldest and beloved aus

I've been hiding it under my desk more than 7 months for a reason, if you interested, there's an explanation under the cut

2022-2023 winter was an emotionally difficult time for me. So I created The Shadow House and found comfort and consolation in it. I was really sensitive about this au so I was afraid to show it off. And when The Finally was released it DIDN'T help

When the fandom gone crazy I thought HELL NAH, F*CK IT. I'VE HAD ENOUGH OF THIS SHIT. SHADOW HOUSE WILL STAY WITH ME BECAUSE IT'S TOO PERSONAL FOR ME AND IF SO-CALLED"FANS" START THROWING MUD AT IT, I WON'T GO THROUGH THIS

Luckily, the fandom has cooled down a bit and now I see less and less people harassing fans artists for loving Belos. And I have become less sensitive to TSH and feel ready to show it to you. I really hope you like it and if so, let me know it in the comments and tags :3💕💗💖

[where-does-the-heart-lie]

Revolutionary Army Punk AU

Ft: Luffy (not punk)

Steampunk is cool but i think just straight up punk would be cooler. I just think what they stand for lines up a lot better

Design notes:

I did some research and talked to a punk friend of mine for these as i am not a punk, myself, and I dont want to look like a poser. I think i did a really good job translating them and i want to explain my thoughts!

Sabo was first, of course.

I not only wanted to make the characters punk, but i also wanted to crank their designs up about 20 notches, so i gave Sabo’s scar one hell of an upgrade. In this version I tried to make it very clear that that cannon ball hit him head-on. I think it works really well with his punk vibes because under-cuts and shaved parts of the head in general are very popular in punk culture.

I largely tried to keep the silhouettes the same with this au, and It was really easy to keep it with Sabo because of the fact that he already has a lot of design elements that translate well to punk. His big pants into tall boots were perfect to translate, crust pants and steel toed boots fits him well. Trench coats arent a staple in Punk, but i couldnt take the coats away from him… him or Belo. They deserve it…

I threw away his cravat for a choker, i replaced his vest with a red tank top and his undershirt for fishnets, Patches up the wazoo, he looks very cool.

Belo Betty was next, she was super easy to translate. She’s already in the punk spirit with her tits out, we love to see it. Her hat was really difficult to translate, along with all the other hats, but a red knitted hat that has those two points cuz it’s essentially a scarf sewed together looks nice on her.

My punk friend suggested i give her a bunch of nets and harnesses and i really agreed that was her style, so i gave her red tie to Morley, slapped some harnesses on her and just overall just turned her sexy up like 50 notches. I think i was clever how i adapted her striped stockings here with how they have runs in them.

Karasu is almost the exact same. I just threw out his dinky little cravat and gave him a bandana and harness. I also gave him piercings. That’s the only difference. In the words of my Punk friend “hes naked and wearing a spiked mask, He can hang”

Speaking of what my punk friend said, he said that Lindbergh would get “demolished” in the pit, and that he looks like he’s scared of bees. The consensus was that he couldn’t hang. But also i still had to make him punk, so then he suggested CBGB punks:

Redneck, bluegrass, southern american punks. I was really in a rut with his design, I didn’t know what to do to keep the silhouette of his backpack. But everything changed when I chance got the idea of a guitar. And then everything flowed from there

Morley was really really fun. Punk friend suggested i make him Pop Punk, inspired by this pic

Mainly Lindsey way with this plaid skirt and tie

He was so so fun to draw, i love his fucked up eyes.

For dragon, i didnt change much at all, even though it’s only his bust that’s shown. Imagine everything is the same, except now he has piercings. Dragon isnt concerned with the punk fashion, but the punk cause.

For Luffy, I wasnt trying to make him punk, but he felt a bit plain looking like base Luffy next to punk Sabo, so i just did the “turn design up 20 notches”, and just gave him a more visibly tattered hat, bangles and waist beads.

That’s about it! Ive been getting a lot of comments and asks lately saying that you guys like when i go on my design explanations, and i realized that i didnt do that for the last few AU’s, so i thought id type this up :)

Thank you for reading!

[callsigns-haze]

Silly little life

Summary: Hangman skips a mission to be by Y/N's side during a tough labor, and together they welcome their baby girl into the world, showing just how strong their bond is.

Warning: Contains intense depictions of labor pain and emotional distress during childbirth.

Word count: 3476 words

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x reader

English is not my first language so I apologies for mistakes

Could be read alone or as part two of Little Life

Part 3

The Dagger squad gathered in the briefing room, the usual air of anticipation hanging thick in the space. Maverick stood at the front, arms crossed over his chest as he looked out at the group. Phoenix leaned back in her chair, her legs casually crossed, while Rooster sat forward, elbows on the table, a curious look on his face. Fanboy and Payback were murmuring something under their breath, probably joking about who’d outfly who on the next mission. Coyote sat closest to the front, sharp-eyed and waiting for instructions. Bob, as usual, was quietly observing from the corner, his ever-attentive gaze locked on Maverick.

But one thing was missing—Jake “Hangman” Seresin.

It wasn’t unusual for Jake to cut it close, swaggering in just as the briefing started, flashing his cocky grin as if the world bent to his timing. But today, he was nowhere to be seen.

Maverick cleared his throat, and the chatter in the room died down, all eyes turning toward him. He gave them a measured look, the kind of expression that immediately told the group something was off.

“I’m going to keep this short,” Maverick began, his voice calm but firm. “As you’ve all noticed, Hangman’s not here.”

Phoenix raised an eyebrow, leaning forward in her chair. “Where is he? It’s not like Jake to miss a briefing.”

Rooster shot her a look, his expression sceptical. “Maybe he’s just late. Hangman never misses a chance to show off.”

Maverick shook his head. “He’s not late. He’s not coming.”

A murmur ran through the squad, surprise rippling across their faces. Payback’s eyes narrowed slightly, and Fanboy exchanged a quick glance with Coyote, who looked genuinely confused.

Bob, ever the quiet one, spoke up from the back, his voice soft but clear. “Why not? What happened?”

Maverick let out a slow breath, his gaze steady. “Jake’s not going to be joining us on this mission. He’s dealing with... important family business.” The way he said it left little room for questions. It was vague, deliberate. He wasn’t going to share more than that, and the squad knew it.

Phoenix frowned, her lips pressed into a thin line as she glanced around the room. “Family business?” she echoed. “Jake never mentioned—”

“He didn’t have to,” Maverick interrupted, his tone kind but firm. “Whatever it is, it’s personal, and it’s not your place to pry. The information only belongs to him and his commanders.”

There was a pause, the weight of the unspoken questions hanging in the air. The Dagger squad wasn’t used to Jake missing missions, especially without an explanation. He was Hangman—their most confident, always-present wingman: bit of a douche too. The idea of him having something outside of flying, something that pulled him away, was almost unimaginable.

Rooster scratched at his chin, his brow furrowed. “Is he okay?”

Maverick’s gaze flickered to Rooster, then to the rest of the squad. “He’s fine,” he reassured them, though his voice held a tone that indicated there was more to the story than he was letting on. “He’ll be back when he’s ready. Until then, you focus on the mission at hand.”

Coyote, who had been silent up until now, finally spoke, his deep voice filled with concern. “So we’re just supposed to carry on without him?”

“That’s exactly what you’re supposed to do,” Maverick replied, his voice sharp. “Hangman knows what he’s doing, and he knows when to step back. Right now, his focus is where it needs to be.”

There was a silence in the room, heavy with unanswered questions. The squad exchanged glances, each one processing the news in their own way. Phoenix looked thoughtful, her mind clearly working through what “family business” could mean for someone like Jake, someone who seemed to live for the thrill of flying and the camaraderie of the squad. Rooster’s expression remained puzzled, though a part of him seemed to respect the privacy Maverick was asking for.

Bob, still calm and collected, nodded quietly to himself. “Understood.”

Maverick gave them all a final, serious look. “Jake will be back when he’s ready. Until then, we move forward. Focus on the mission. That’s all.”

With that, Maverick turned and walked out, leaving the room in a quiet, subdued atmosphere. The Dagger squad sat for a moment longer, absorbing the reality that Hangman wouldn’t be flying with them this time.

But none of them could shake the question lingering in their minds: What kind of family business was important enough to pull Jake Seresin away from the skies?

---

Hours. It felt like you’d been in labor for days instead of hours. Every contraction tore through you, leaving you drenched in sweat, your muscles aching from the strain. The hospital room was dimly lit, the rhythmic beeping of the monitor the only constant in the chaos of your body. You tossed and turned on the bed, trying to find some relief, but nothing seemed to help.

Your hair stuck to your forehead, damp and tangled, and every breath felt labored, like your lungs could barely keep up with the demands of your body. Groaning in discomfort, you shifted again, the cold sheets doing nothing to cool your overheated skin. Your hand gripped the side of the bed as another wave of pain hit, your knuckles white from the pressure.

Jake was beside you, his hand on your arm, trying his best to soothe you. His voice was soft, calm, like he was trying to talk you through a flight manoeuvre. “You’re doing amazing, darlin’,” he whispered, his other hand gently brushing the hair from your face. “Breathe through it, okay? We’re almost there.”

But his words didn’t bring you the comfort they usually did. You were too far gone in the discomfort, the contractions relentless, your body feeling like it was fighting against itself. You groaned again, louder this time, unable to hold back the frustration as the pressure built in your lower abdomen.

“Jake, I can’t—” you panted, squeezing your eyes shut as another contraction took hold. The pain was unlike anything you’d ever felt, a deep, all-consuming force that made you want to scream, cry, or both. You could feel Jake’s hand rubbing soothing circles on your shoulder, but it wasn’t enough.

“I know, baby, I know,” he said softly, his voice tight with worry. “You’re so strong. Just keep going, alright?”

You cracked one eye open, looking at him through the haze of exhaustion. His face was lined with concern, his brow furrowed as he held the small plastic cup of ice chips in his hand. You could tell he was trying to be strong for you, but you could also see the fear in his eyes—the helplessness. He hated seeing you like this, and even though he was doing everything he could, there was nothing that could truly ease your pain.

He brought a spoonful of ice chips to your lips, his touch gentle, careful. “Here, darlin’, try to take a little more,” he urged, but you turned your head slightly, too tired, too uncomfortable to want anything in that moment.

“I don’t want the damn ice,” you snapped, immediately feeling bad as soon as the words left your mouth. But you were so frustrated, so overwhelmed with the never-ending discomfort.

Jake didn’t take it personally. He just nodded, setting the cup down on the table beside him before leaning in, his hand still resting on your arm. “I know, sweetheart,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your temple. “You’re doing great. I’m right here.”

You groaned again, a deep, guttural sound that came from the pit of your stomach as your body prepared for another contraction. The pressure in your hips and lower back was unbearable, and no amount of repositioning or soothing touches could make it stop.

You tossed your head back against the pillow, panting, desperate for this to end. You could feel the sweat trickling down your neck, your whole body shaking with the effort of holding on. Every time you thought the pain had peaked, it got worse, and your heart pounded in your chest as you tried to ride through it.

Jake’s hand tightened around yours, his thumb brushing softly over your knuckles. He was trying to help, you knew that, but nothing he did seemed to touch the raw intensity of what you were feeling. You could hear him murmuring something under his breath—soft encouragements, maybe—or a prayer that this would be over soon.

Your grip on his hand tightened as another wave hit, and you groaned again, your whole body arching off the bed with the sheer force of it. It felt like you were being pulled apart, every muscle in your body straining as you fought to stay in control. But it was slipping. You were slipping.

“Jake,” you panted, your voice breaking. “I—I don’t know how much longer I can do this.”

He leaned in closer, his forehead resting against yours for a moment. “You’re almost there, baby. I promise. Just a little longer, okay? You’ve got this.”

You wanted to believe him. You wanted to hold onto his words and let them carry you through. But right now, it felt like there was no end in sight. Just more pain, more pressure, more of this endless battle between your body and the life you were about to bring into the world.

But through the haze of discomfort and exhaustion, you could feel his presence, solid and unwavering, anchoring you to the moment. And somehow, in the middle of all this chaos, that was enough to keep you going.

Even if the ice chips weren’t.

The hours dragged on, and it felt like you were stuck in a whirlwind of pain and exhaustion. Every contraction was a tidal wave, crashing over you, pulling you under. You’d lost track of time, your body trembling with the effort it took just to breathe through each one. Jake hadn’t left your side, his hand gripping yours firmly, as if he could somehow share in the pain.

The nurse's calm voice broke through the fog, "It’s almost time to push, Y/N."

Your breath hitched as another contraction seized you, so powerful that you couldn’t stop the low groan that escaped your lips. Your muscles were tight, your back arching against the bed. Every fibre of your being was screaming for this to end, for the overwhelming pressure to stop.

"Almost time?" you muttered between pants, your voice ragged from hours of groaning and yelling. "Feels like I’ve been at this forever."

Jake leaned closer, his face full of concern, his hand never leaving yours. “You’re almost there, sweetheart. Just a little longer,” he whispered, though you could hear the tension in his voice. You could see the worry etched on his face, the furrow in his brow. He was scared, even if he was doing his best to hide it from you.

The doctor’s voice cut through the haze. "Okay, Y/N, the baby’s almost here. I need you to push when you feel the next contraction, alright?"

You nodded, your chest heaving as you tried to gather every last ounce of strength left in your body. When the next wave hit, you bore down, groaning through clenched teeth as you pushed with everything you had.

"Good! That’s it," the doctor encouraged, her voice steady. "Keep going."

But the pressure—it felt like you were being torn in two. "Oh my God," you groaned, panting. "This baby… this baby has your fat head!"

You heard Jake choke back a laugh, his voice tight with emotion. "Hey now, darlin’, let’s not go blaming me for that," he teased, trying to lighten the mood, but you weren’t in the mood for jokes.

You growled through another push, your face contorting in pain. "I swear, Jake, if this kid has your big-ass head, I’m never letting you forget it!"

He kissed your forehead, his voice soft but laced with a chuckle. “You can blame me all you want, but you’re doing amazing, baby. You’re so strong.”

Another contraction ripped through you, and you squeezed his hand so hard you were sure you’d break it. You could barely focus, barely think beyond the burning pressure and the overwhelming need to push. But even through the haze of agony, the words tumbled out before you could stop them.

"I swear to God, Jake, I’m never doing this again!” you groaned. “Never!"

He nodded, his eyes filled with warmth and concern as he whispered soothingly. "Whatever you say, sweetheart. Whatever you say."

But the next contraction hit, and despite the pain, you pushed harder, feeling the unbearable pressure of the baby moving down. The pain was white-hot, and you let out a strangled cry, your body trembling from the effort.

"Oh my God!" you gasped, tossing your head back against the pillow. "I hate you, Jake! This is your fault!"

Jake squeezed your hand, his voice gentle but steady. "You can hate me all you want, darlin’. You’re doing incredible. Almost there."

You groaned again, guilt mixing with the frustration. You didn’t mean any of it—not really—but the pain had twisted everything inside you, and you couldn’t help but lash out. The guilt made it worse, made your heart ache even through the physical agony.

"I’m sorry," you gasped between ragged breaths. "I don’t… I don’t mean it, I just—" another contraction cut you off, and you screamed, pushing as hard as you could. The burn was intense, and you could feel the baby’s head beginning to crown.

"You’re okay, you’re okay," Jake murmured, his forehead resting against yours now, his voice a grounding force in the chaos. "You’ve got this. You’re almost there, sweetheart."

You bore down again, your whole body trembling as you pushed with everything you had left. The pain was searing, and you could feel the baby’s head stretching you, the sensation overwhelming.

"I swear this kid has your huge head!" you groaned again, your voice a mix of pain and humour as you struggled to keep going.

The doctor’s voice cut through, sharp and encouraging. "One more big push, Y/N. The head’s almost out."

You clenched your jaw, took a deep breath, and pushed again, harder than before. The pressure built to an unbearable peak, and then—

Suddenly, the pain shifted. There was a release, and the tension in your body eased. You gasped for air, your heart pounding in your chest, and then, you heard it—a sharp, clear cry that echoed through the room.

The baby’s first cry.

Tears welled up in your eyes as the doctor held up the tiny, wriggling form for you to see. "It’s a girl!" she announced, and for a moment, all the pain, all the exhaustion, melted away. Your heart swelled as you looked at her—your baby girl.

Jake let out a shaky breath beside you, his voice breaking as he whispered, "We have a daughter."

You watched through tear-filled eyes as the nurse cleaned her up, bringing her over and placing her carefully in your arms. She was so small, her little face scrunched up, her tiny fists waving in the air. You felt Jake’s arm around your shoulders, his hand resting gently on your baby girl’s head as the two of you gazed down at her.

All the pain, all the frustration and discomfort—it didn’t matter anymore. You smiled softly, still breathless, tears rolling down your cheeks as you cradled your daughter to your chest.

"She’s perfect," you whispered, your voice filled with awe.

Jake leaned in, pressing a kiss to your temple. "You’re perfect," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "You did it, darlin’. You brought our little girl into the world."

As the room quieted, the nurses moved about with practiced ease, cleaning and tidying up, but all your attention was on Jake and your baby girl. After a moment of letting you hold her, Jake gently reached down, his large hands cradling her tiny form as he took her from your arms, holding her with such tenderness that it made your heart ache. The way he looked at her—with awe, love, and the purest joy—made your breath catch.

But as soon as she left your arms, a wave of emotion hit you like a tidal wave. You were still shaky, still exhausted from labor, but now a new weight settled over your chest. The words you’d shouted, the anger, the frustration—all of it came flooding back. You hadn’t meant any of it, but you couldn’t shake the guilt that twisted in your stomach.

You looked over at Jake, watching him coo softly to your baby girl, his thumb brushing over her cheek as she wriggled slightly in his arms. The sight should have filled you with nothing but joy, but instead, tears welled up in your eyes, spilling down your cheeks before you could even try to hold them back.

You wiped at your face, embarrassed by the sudden flood of emotions, but it only made the tears come harder. The sobs were quiet at first, but soon, your shoulders shook with the force of them, each breath hitching in your chest.

Jake’s head whipped toward you immediately. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” he asked, his voice soft but urgent. He moved closer, still holding your daughter, his brow furrowed in concern. “Are you in pain? What’s going on?”

You shook your head, unable to speak through the lump in your throat. You tried to take a deep breath, but it only made the sobs come harder. The guilt weighed on you, heavy and crushing, and you couldn’t stop the words that tumbled out.

“I’m sorry, Jake,” you choked, your voice barely a whisper through the tears. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Jake’s eyes softened, and he knelt beside you, carefully balancing your daughter in his arms while reaching out to take your hand. “Sorry? Darlin’, you don’t have anything to be sorry for.”

But you couldn’t stop. The guilt gnawed at you, every word you’d said during labor echoing in your mind. “I yelled at you. I—I said such awful things. I blamed you, and it wasn’t your fault. I didn’t mean any of it, Jake, I swear, I didn’t.” Your voice broke again, tears streaming down your face as you looked at him through blurry eyes.

Jake’s face softened even more, his expression full of understanding and love. “Sweetheart,” he murmured, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. “You just went through hell bringing our little girl into the world. You were in pain. I know you didn’t mean any of that.”

You sniffled, wiping at your cheeks, but the tears wouldn’t stop. “But I—” you started, but Jake leaned in closer, cutting you off gently.

“No buts,” he whispered, his voice firm but filled with warmth. “You’ve got nothing to apologize for. I love you, and I’m so damn proud of you. You were incredible, Y/N. And our little girl is here because of you.” His gaze flickered down to the tiny bundle in his arms, her little eyes closed as she slept soundly.

You let out a shaky breath, your sobs quieting but still present as you watched Jake cradle your daughter so carefully. “I just… I feel so bad,” you whispered, your chest still tight with guilt. “I didn’t mean to take it out on you.”

Jake leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment before he pulled back. “Darlin’, you could’ve called me every name in the book, and I still wouldn’t hold it against you. You brought our baby into the world. That’s all that matters.”

You looked up at him, your vision still blurred with tears, but his words cut through the guilt, soothing the ache in your heart. You could see the sincerity in his eyes, the way he looked at you with so much love and admiration.

“I love you,” you whispered, your voice shaky but filled with emotion.

“I love you too,” Jake replied softly, his eyes never leaving yours as he gently shifted your daughter back into your arms. The warmth of her tiny body against yours made your heart swell, the tears still slipping down your cheeks, but this time, they were different. The guilt was still there, but it was fading, replaced by the overwhelming love you felt for your little family.

Jake sat beside you on the bed, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close as you held your daughter between you. “You’re amazing,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your temple. “And now we’ve got this perfect little girl. We did it, darlin’.”

You nodded, sniffling as you looked down at your baby, the small miracle you and Jake had brought into the world. And despite the exhaustion, despite the tears, you couldn’t help but smile through it all. You had your family, and that was everything.

let me know if you'd like to be tagged

Part 3

[screams-of-the-damned84]

(flops on stage) i now present to you my very silly swap au,,,

essentially jasper is now the co-leader of the society who was bitten by a werewolf and is trying to hide it, jekyll is the uni student who got kicked out due to his experiments and then picked up off the streets, etc. jasper and rachel can’t communicate and jekyll and lanyon are living the world’s weirdest horror romcom you’ve ever seen. more info under cut hehe (feat. bad explanations and doodles)

in simpler terms, jekyll and lanyon swap narrative positions (?? is that the right term) with jasper and rachel respectively. (lanyons and rachels swap doesn’t technically work as well as Jekyll’s and jaspers does but shhhhh). Frankenstein becomes the mad scientist that attacks the society and moreau becomes jaspers idol.

longer explanation but WARNING!! it is 3am when i am typing this and i am terrible at explaining. it may be slightly incomprehensible.

so like jasper and rachel founded the society after jasper publishes his research and gets semi famous. two years before current events jasper is out on a research venture and gets bitten by a werewolf. he doesn’t want to scare rachel or the lodgers so he keeps it a secret (to his own detriment). flash forward to now and jasper gets a call to investigate a “creature” terrorizing the streets of london only to find hyde.

before jasper can process the dumpster man he is looking at hyde transforms back into jekyll. jekyll explains that while trying to prove his theory of spiritual alchemy at his university he may or may not have split his own soul. and got kicked out. and is now living on the streets.

jasper, not really knowing what else to do and kinda relating to the poor guy, takes him back to the society. he introduces his co-leader rachel, who pretty much keeps this entire thing up and running. (rachel and jekyll still become friends but she especially takes to hyde. that little brother shaped hole in her heart is still very much present!) then theres the lodgers (idk how they all swap) and then there’s lanyon, a university student at the society because it was mandatory for one of his courses. he is not enjoying it and would very much rather be breaking boy’s hearts back at school. lucky for him tho, there’s jekyll!

this goes about as well as you would expect. lanyon then spends the rest of his stay at the society trying to understand (and woo) the conundrum that is jekyll and hyde. it’s very fluffy and they learn to communicate like jasper and rachel in canon (yippee!)

unfortunately for jasper and rachel, they have been playing the “just friends” game for the last decade. im having a bit of trouble trying to flesh out swap rachel so i don’t really know if she’s in a lavender marriage like canon lanyon is or is estranged/divorced or just single but whatever the case is she likes jasper but thinks he just sees her as a friend while jasper is madly in love with her and is too scared to tell her. this problem has only worsened since jasper got bitten. everyone else tho is aware of how they feel about each other and are stuck witnessing their tortuously long slow burn.

(hyde and lanyon at some point probably come up with a scheme to try and get them to confess. it goes horribly wrong.)

so yeah. this au has been floating around in my head ever since i read the comic for the first time. it mainly came to be because of how well jasper and jekyll parallel each other and because i wanted to draw stupid fluff and older jasper lol.

if anyone has any ideas/questions/etc TELL ME!!!!! this is just a rough idea if you have a better concept go for it awhdvgevd

[moodyseal]

Meg and Apollo tarot card designs for @ferodactyl <3 I'm not an expert when it comes to tarot cards (this was actually the first time I looked into the full deck) but hopefully I got it right!

The explanation of the cards' symbolism is under the cut because it's a bit lengthy oof

Meg's card is the Knight of Swords, one of the minor Arcana, I think? Upright, the Knight of Swords refers to a person who is action-oriented, determined and unstoppable in what they set their mind to; however, when it's reversed the card also indicates a person who might be blind to the consequences of their actions and charges into things without having fully considered their options. Meg's choices throughout TOA point to her being exactly this sort of person: while her determination and lack of hesitation were exactly what was needed to balance out Apollo's occasional self-doubt, her impulsiveness was also what got them both into trouble multiple times. The fact that, eventually, she learned how to rely on others and slow down when needed goes hand in hand with the warning this card poses.

Apollo's card is instead one of the Major Arcana, and it's Death. The Death card is a symbol of change: it indicates a time of transition and new beginnings that are sometimes unexpected and difficult, but still necessary. Reversed, the card indicates that the person is resisting that change, and unwilling to let go of the past, which makes the journey all the more painful as the transformation that they're going through is inevitable and cannot be reversed. One of the major points in Apollo's character arc, and the biggest change he goes through, is the transition from the god he used to be to the one he would be in the future. It's a slow change, and one he didn't fully lean into at first—after all, if he chose to give up all that he had been up until then, what would he have left? However, ironically enough, death is exactly what set things in motion, and let him finally shed away his past beliefs to embrace his new sense of self.

[swantranslations]

Miyazaki's Retirement Declarations (chronologically)

Translated from last week's NHK documentary on the production of The Boy and The Heron (more under cut). I saw people posting a screencap of this and I just couldn't contain myself. THIS HAS BEEN GOING ON WAY LONGER THAN I IMAGINED LMFAO

This is from the NHK programme "Professional - Their Working Philosophy" (プロフェッショナル 仕事の流儀) a few days ago (16/12/2023). The episode investigates the production process of The Boy and the Huron, and how the late Takahata Isao influenced the movie.

(It was confirmed within the documentary that Mahito = Miyazaki, Great Uncle = Takahata Isao, The Heron = Suzuki Toshio, Kiriko = Yasuda Michiyo)

The documentary is currently available on the NHK Streaming Service (Location Limited). If you have your own ways of watching and you know Japanese, I would definitely recommend the episode as it gives a lot of much-needed context to The Boy and The Heron. Personally, I haven't found a way to watch it yet, so all I know about the documentary are hearsay I saw on Japanese twitter.

Original screencap:

Also, at the very end of the episode, Miyazaki was shown working on a Naucicaa piece without any explanation, which led to many people speculating whether he could be working on a sequel for Naucicaa of the Valley of the Wind.

What do yall think? Do you think he's going to finally retire or release yet another animated film in a few years? I would love to see Naucicaa 2 but I also feel like he really needs to... yknow, chillax a bit and stuff. He deserves a long ass vacation.

[angelcake10023]

Curious MK 💛 and the Man In The Red Scarf 🧣

This au is everything to me… be ready for me to not shut up about it.

If you want a little explanation on the au look under the cut

The au pretty much follows the beats of the movie with some twists to fit the world of LMK a bit better

Tang works at his College’s museum, doing tours on a lot of historical exhibits which heavily align with his special interests (lots of JTTW like stuff)

Pigsy is the local school teacher that takes his class to the museum every week- to learn obviously. Not cause he has a big crush on this pathetic museum nerd.

Anyway the museum is loosing interest and funding you know the gist, Tang somehow agrees to go on an expedition to flower fruit mountain to maybe find something worth putting on display. Probably something related to Sun Wukong

Tang is out of his element, but also this is his hyperfixation and he can tooootally find something of note surely. However what he doesn’t know is that a few certain spider henchmen in disguise have made their way onto his expedition crew and are hoping to find something powerful to bring back to their queen.

Once they get there they do a lot of fruitless searching, set up camp for the day, and an exhausted Tang is quickly ambushed by a newly awakened baby Monkey MK. He’s very curious about the bright color of Tang’s scarf and steals it when Tang takes it off to eat.

Tang has never seen or heard of this type of monkey on the mountain before, thinking he resembles Sun Wukong but thinking it ridiculous to think more of it. They play for a bit, Tang playfully wagering for his scarf back.

Anyway the expedition continues and they’re still unable to find anything and have to leave empty handed, (except for two pieces of a little monkey shaped rock.)

Mk ends up with Tang’s scarf as he’s leaving, deciding to secretly follow them back. Wholesome shenanigans ensue just like in the movie. Tang struggles being a dad to this monkey who’s attached himself to him, while also learning he might not really be normal monkey. Add in some Monkey power shenanigans hehe. Also some spider henchmen repeatedly trying and failing to capture Mk (comedically managing to also go unnoticed every time)

Of course in the climax, Tang is pretty worn down. He’s homeless, jobless, and a disappointment. He doesn’t think he can handle taking care of MK, and that’s when Sun Wukong shows up. He’s been keeping an eye on them and knows MK has mystic powers that are probably too much for a human to handle- so he’s willing to take him off Tang’s hands.

Tang reluctantly agrees, much to MK’s confusion and sadness. Trying to reach and grab onto him repeatedly as Tang holds back tears and begs Wukong to take him. Wukong does and Mk, who’s been struggling with any speech up to this point finally manages a soft and scratchy “no” just as Wukong’s cloud zips away with them both.

Tang immediately regrets it, his regret fueled after he talks with Pigsy. He made a mistake and he needs his kid back.

Unfortunately, The Spider Queen and co managed to ambush Wukong similar to the show and capture baby MK. Cue Tang, Pigsy, and Sandy teaming up to rescue the monkeys

Rescue ensues, Tang and Mk reunite wholesomely, Wukong is impressed by Tangs determination to save the kid despite his mortality. Wukong gives him some cool treasure junk that they can take back to the museum

The day is saved, Tang and MK are a family, and Tang finally got Pigsy’s flirting through his dense head lmaooooo

Dad Tang and Baby MK are so special to me… thank you for reading haha. Itll probably be fleshed out more in the future as well

[igotanidea]

Childlike honesty: Jason Todd x single!mom!reader

Jason never thought he could be falling in love so quickly.

Arguably too quickly, but she was so different from anyone he knew.

Different from all the girls, all the women, all the people in the world.

Seeing right past through his crap, and his façade and not being afraid to confront him about it.

Aiming arrows at his insecurities, exposing them painfully, only to soothe the stinging with a few well-chosen words and smiles that made him melt.

So yes, he would dare go as far as to say that after merely a few months of dating, he was in love.

And though it might spook her, he had to tell her, simply because there was no way to contain it inside his poor, shattered heart.

And judging the risk, between telling her like an adult and blurting it out in the least appropriate moment like a silly teen, the former seemed less daunting.

And that was how he found himself knocking at her door in the early morning (too early!) on Saturday (she might have been sleeping!), ready to pour his heart out.

“Coming!” her slightly muffled voice came from behind the door and his heart picked up the pace. The key rattled in the lock and there she was. With her hair a mess, remnants of sleep still in her eyes, squinting a little at the light coming from the stairwell.

So beautiful. He thought, but pursed his lips, hiding the words under a teasing smirk to prevent himself from doing the exact thing he planned not to.

“Jason. Hey!” her smile grew wide when she saw him and instinctively she leaned to peck his cheek “What are you doing here this early? Shouldn’t you be resting after night’s activities?”

“Don’t know what you’re implying.” He scoffed playfully, before turning a bit more serious “I just wanted to see you, princess. I got something important to tell you and – um… Actually, can I come inside? I’d rather not have all your elderly neighbors prying in on us.”

“Come inside?” she repeated as if her brain was not fully awake yet “you want to come in? I mean – of course you want to come in” she chuckled awkwardly. “Haha! That’s actually funny because—"

“Y/N.” Jason frowned, not liking her reaction at all, his mind swirling with possible explanations of her erratic behavior and nervousness. “Are you with someone? Are you with a guy?” shit, shit, shit. Just a thought that she might have had fun with someone else stung.

“It’s not what you think—” she started, trying to gather herself, but the sentence was cut off abruptly by another persona in this three-person drama.

“Mommy…?”

Mommy?!

Jason looked down, noticing a little boy, perhaps 3 or 4 years old, standing behind Y/N’s legs, his tiny arms wrapped around her calf. Kid’s e/c eyes, spitting image of Y/N’s were locked on Jason as the boy put his thumb in his mouth and started sucking on it.

“Theo!” she exclaimed, picking the boy from the ground and stopping him from the action. “Honey, how many times have I told you? Big boys do not suck their thumbs. You’re too smart for that, aren’t you?”

“I’m a big boy.” Theo repeated, obediently releasing his finger and wrapping his little hands on Y/N;s neck, nuzzling into her.

“You are.” Y/N smiled, ruffling boy’s hair “and a very good one too. Mommy’s proud of you.”

“Mommy!?”

Y/N spun towards the door abruptly. For a second, she completely forgot that Jason was still standing in the frame, with his eyes wide and mouth half-open, having just discovered her secret. She turned pale then red then pale again

“Jason--”

“What does it mean!?”

“Please stop yelling.”

“Is this some sort of game to you!? You have a son!?”

“Could you please calm down and –”

“You have a son!”

For Theo’s sake she stifled the curse that was forming deep in her throat. But the fact that Jason yelling was already starting to attract attention and one of the elderly neighbors peeked from behind the door, giving y/n a death look, she had to take action. Fixing the grip on her son, she somehow managed to grab Jason’s hand and drag him inside the apartment, locking the door and exhaling heavily.

“Yes. I have a son. It’s not like this is some kind of supernatural occurrence.”

“You have a son!”

“Mommy, why is he screaming so loud?” Theo whined and covered his little ears, which actually made Jason feel a little guilty. It was just a kid and he was behaving like a total ass. “I thought it was bad to scream?”

“It is, love.” Y/N kissed Theo’s forehead “It is, but sometimes people do it either way. Now, could you please go and play with your toys in the room? Mommy’s gotta talk to her friend ok? It’s important. Can you be a good boy for mommy?”

“Yeah…” Theo nodded, and when Y/N placed him back onto the ground he rushed off to his room, grabbing a plushy dinosaur discarded on the floor.

Y/N led him away with his eyes, and only when Theo was completely involved in his play she let out another exhale, letting her shoulders sink and turned to face Jason.

“Would you like something to drink?”

“No I don’t want anything to drink, I want a fucking explanation!”

“Hey! No swearing! There’s a kid here!”

“I’m sorry…”

“You should be. But you’re right too. I owe you an explanation. Come, sit.” She gestured towards the couch, the furthest from Theo’s room.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“About Theo?”

“No about the Big Bang Theory.” He was an ass, but couldn’t hide the sarcasm and anger. “Of course I’m talking about the kid. Theo? That’s his name?”

“Yeah. It’s after –”

“I don’t really care about the etymology of the name, Y/N. Why did you lie to me?”

“I didn’t lie. I just didn’t tell you the truth.”’

“Why?”

“Because you never asked.”

“Oh come on, seriously!? That’s a childish argument and besides, it’s not like this I’m asking every girl I’m dating if she maybe has kids! Not exactly the first thing that comes to mind when meeting someone!”

“Please. Sit down. Come on, don’t cut me out. Let me explain this-“

“Fine!” he muttered, plumping on the couch, arms crossed, face unreadable, putting on his most unapproachable exterior “talk.”

She sighed, knowing he wasn’t going to make it easy for her. He had every right to be angry, but zero right to judge her about her past and this time she was going to be honest. If truth meant the end of their blooming relationship so be it. Better to know.

“Theo’s dad was an asshole. A mistake.”

“Yeah, no shit.”

“Will you let me talk!?” he patted the top of his head, and despite himself Jason chuckled at the gesture. “It's not like I got into the bed with the guy I had just met! You should know better!”

“I know better. That’s the exact reason why I’m still sitting here listening to you instead of running away.”

“Me and Theo’s dad…” she continued “we had been dating for a few years before it happened. He got drunk, I was young and stupid, letting him do too much, we ended up in the bed and the next thing I knew, I was pregnant.”

“And?”

“Well, like I said, he was an asshole, which turned out pretty quickly. He never wanted kids and the fact that I had a bun in the oven was not compliant with his plan for life.”

“Please don’t tell me that this fucker—” Jason started, clenching his fists at the thought what Y/N must have been through.

“First, he told me to get rid of the problem. And obviously, I refused. So he changed tactics, trying to threaten me into getting an abortion. And I refused again. So he got aggressive.”

“Did he hit you!?” Jason’s protective instincts kicked in, the anger and sense of betrayal slowly giving way to completely other feelings towards her.

“No. He wouldn’t dare. But at some point he just left. Leaving me with a kid on the way.”

“Y/N…”

“It’s okay. I’m better without him anyway. Me and Theo both. He didn’t deserve to be called a man, let alone a father.”

“I’m so sorry, princess…”

“Theo was born prematurely. It was my seventh month and I was still working when my water broke and a friend drove me to the hospital. He was so tiny and –” her eyes filled with tears and Jason immediately moved to wrap arms around her, as if shielding her from the pain of the past. “I spent first six months of his life in the NICU, almost sleeping on the floor, scared to death that—”

“shh…” his hands cradled her closer to his chest, rubbing her back, brushing her hair, kissing the top of her head “Shhh, Y/N. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. You are so brave.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before—" she sobbed

“Hush, love. Don’t apologize. Just tell me why you didn’t tell me? Were you scared?”

“I was. But not for the reason you might think.”

“Huh?”

“We’ve been dating for what? Six months? As important as you are to me Jason , I don't know if this is permanent. And Theo-“ her voice broke “- he deserves stability. He didn't know his father for god's sake, and it is not like you can just explain it to a kid that his father didn't want him. Or me. So tell me, how could I have told you about him when I was scared that - that—”

“You were scared that I’d leave you too.” Jason cupped her cheek, looking straight into her eyes “that I’d leave like everyone else.”

“Yeah… And I’d understand If you’d want to…”

“I’m not leaving you, princess. You’re stuck with me.” He leaned forward, softly brushing his lips over hers.

Y/N reciprocated his kiss and even though they were both trying to control themselves, the fire in them ignited quickly as the making out became a little more intense, a little more steamy, his hands traveled to her waist, pulling her onto his lap, sneaking under her shirt to touch her soft skin—

“No…” he pulled back, using all his strength to do so. “We can’t do it here, can we?”

“Not really.” She chuckled, squinting towards Theo’s room. “Me and him, we’re kind of a package deal.”

“Oh yeah, I got the memo.” He smirked, pinching her waist playfully, setting her back on the couch. “Can’t say I like it now, but—”

“Would you like to meet him?” she interjected in the moment of spontaneity 

“Your son?”

“Yes.” She nodded, absolutely sure about her decision. “And not just by yelling on the doorstep, but by officially meeting him?”

“I—” Jason stuttered. Even he could understand that this was important. Y/N was looking at him with hope and silent encouragement in his eyes. A sign of trust that could never be put into words. She actually wanted him to meet her son. Which meant, she was serious about him. About them. “Yeah… yeah, I think I’d like to meet the kid…”

“You would?” she smiled brightly, her eyes shining

“Yeah…” he smiled back, reaching to hug her and she gladly dived into his arms, holding him for dear life “Thank you… Thank you Jason…”

“Of course, princess…” he whispered with a lump in his throat from all the emotions. Though that was the perfect moment to tell her how he felt about their relationship, that he was in love with her, he just couldn’t, opting to stay silent and just live in the moment.

“Mommy?” Sudden, quiet little voice came from behind and Theo came to view, holding onto his plushie looking as cute as only a 3 (or 4, Jason was terrible at assessing age) year old kid can.

“Theo, hey. Come here, kiddo, I’d like you to meet someone.”

Y/N opened her arms to the child and he approached the couch, climbing up with his mother’s help and settling on her knees.

“This is Jason. He's someone very important to me. Can you say hi?” Y/N encouraged her son to shake Jason's hand.

 “Hi… I’m Theo…”

“Hey buddy.” Jason reached for his little fingers, squeezing them gently, reminding himself that this boy was in fact a delicate being, not like the goons and vigilantes he was used to. And honestly, the sensation of a little soft hand in his big and calloused one sent goosebumps over his body, though Jason would never admit it out loud. “Um… nice to meet you, I’m Jason.”

Theo tilted his head a little, staring Jason up and down with those piercing eyes and for some reason it felt like this little kid was judging a grown-ass man. Subconsciously assessing whether this one would be good for his mom and whether they would become friends. And it was quite a humbling experience.

“Mommy? Is that the guy whose photo you have on your phone?" Suddenly Theo blurted.

“Oh, a photo?” Jason teased, throwing Y/N a glance, immediately picking up the subject before she could intervene and stop this child-like honesty. “On her phone, huh? And what does your mom do with this photo?”

“She looks at it. When she lays down to sleep and she thinks and I don’t notice. She looks at it and smiles.”

“Oh really?’

“Yes. I like her happy.”

“Me too buddy…” Jason felt his heart flutter “Me too…” the look he sent Y/N was full of love and affection, making her blush a little. 

“I think she likes you. She almost never smiles like that.”

“Is that so? Is that true, Y/n, do you like me?” 

Y/N hid face in her hands, embarrassed at the entire situation

“Okay, that’s enough bonding for one day. Who wants ice cream?” 

She picked Theo up and walked towards the kitchen with Jason close on their feet with the happiest grin on his face. He could already tell that in time he and Theo were going to be good friends. 

to be continued <?>

@ladychibirae @franbowidk @amyynella @gl1tchgr3mlin

[jolapeno]

it means something

joel miller x f!reader | masterlist

summary: compliments don’t fall from his tongue, but they drip from his eyes. They land on your skin, healing scars that don’t show; they make you glow, and feel like something worth choosing.

to @joelsflannel, i took aspects of all your prompts. i tried to make it fluffy, her a little romantic, i tried to give you a quote that i hope you adore, with a man i know you already love. and i sprinkled in a hard day for you, but with some stress-easing fun to unwind with. merry christmas <;3

wordcount: 3.2k warnings: softer!joel, soft sex (p in v), talks of love, jackson era joel, mentions of ellie, joel in a towel (like damn). written for @pedrostories secret santa event.

You’re tired, drained.

Somehow, you find yourself able to drag your feet from the livelier part of Jackson to the quieter, almost more peaceful part. The soles of your boots draw lines behind you, all of which will likely be covered by the newly settling snow within the hour.

It's picturesque, this place. The kind of location you expect would have once been on postcards that people would be sent to loved ones saying 'wish you were here'.

You don't have to wish.

If your eyes weren’t like pinholes, you’d take a second to admire it.

Stamp your boots in one spot, and enjoy the crunch of it under your feet. A thing you’d do on any other day, if not for the fact, that you were so ready to be in the warmth, to be with him—to curl into him and breathe in his scent.

The kind of scent which buries itself into your nose, to your soul. It wraps its fingers around you and digs its clutches into you. Not that you complain. You'd bathe in it if you could, happily letting him smear it over your skin whenever the two of you have the chance.

It’s why you continue to move. It's why you force one leg in front of the other, muscles begging for reprieve.

By the time you’re up the steps, fingers wrapping around the handle of the front door, you realise how badly you wish to shed your layers. Desiring nothing more than to slide out of your coat, unwrap your scarf, remove the hat, gloves and second pair of socks.

Twisting the handle, the door doesn't fight letting you inside. Instead, it welcomes you. Allowing you to move quickly inside, more than anyone would expect from someone so fatigued—removing the layers, hanging each in turn on the rack beside his.

A sight which tugs at something inside you. It loops its fingers around that feeling within, gently pulling—it is all warm, unexplainable; all hard to describe, but the closest word is lovely, nice—welcomed.

That feeling had been born before the end of days, but it had been nothing but an ember then. Now, it was a roaring fire, all lit by him.

You're sure he knows. Not that either of you talk about it. It added to the long list of things you never speak, not for his sake, but for yours.

Even when you first began your… thing with him, you’d found it as difficult as him to know what to call it. Especially, when it had all happened so randomly, with no explanation or sight that it would occur. It just did.

Smiling, you allow yourself a moment to think back to it. How warm it was. How the setting sun smudged an array of shades across the sky, how you'd been bitter about something, mumbling under your breath until a noise cut through your dismay. His laughter. All gruff and born from his throat. It had expelled into the space between the two of you, cut through your bad mood.

Because it had been louder than you’d ever heard it as the two of you walked back, as you did on so many other nights. But that night had felt so different—and it was.

One moment you were staring, and the next his lips found yours, all chapped, but soft. His fingers around your cheek, whispering your name so gently. Stroking your skin, all worn, a bit rough.

Now, the two of you are a habit. A routine.

Nothing has ever been discussed, nothing ever exchanged. Just some nights you ate dinner with him—knee pressed against his. Sometimes your things sat along his in his home, bobby pins and whatever book you were reading.

Some days Ellie let herself into your house, had made a bedroom out of one of your spares, and sometimes she asked if you wanted to come round to theirs.

The only constant thing is that at least once every week, your limbs found themselves tangled with his. His mouth latched itself onto your neck, hand grasping at your breast, fingers pinching the peak of your nipple as he gruffly told you how hard you’d gotten him.

You liked it. Craved it.

Enjoyed the way you took him apart as he focused on making you a mess.

You liked seeing his salt and pepper curls cling to his forehead, liked running your nails through the hair on the back of his neck—back arched into him, feeling fuller than you’d ever imagined you could. Hearing his gruff voice in your ear, saying words he'd never say if he wasn't buried to the hilt inside of you.

But then, you only call him Joel when he's between your thighs too.

"Miller?"

His name rings around the first floor of the house.

Checking the package in your pocket, you sigh as the day drips from your tight muscles. Hand moving to rub the back of your neck, staring at Ellie's half-open comic and the pencils you'd lent her over the table.

You knew she wouldn't reply, not when tonight was movie night. A Christmas one, she'd told you. She had already let it slip she was going, told you as she kept watch on the door so you could continue your surprise for him.

Her request for you to join her faded when you looked up at her, likely seeing the same look which now greets you in the dust-covered mirror.

Kicking off your boots, and removing one layer of socks, you sigh at the way your feet can all of a sudden breathe—even inside his thick socks. Wiggling your toes, you smile as you begin to curl and unfurl them, before your hand finds the bannister, dragging yourself up the stairs until you reach his room.

His empty room.

Heart falling, you consider calling out again. Using his first name this time—letting each of the four letters carry around the house.

But, his bed looks comfortable. It calling to you. Somehow finding yourself lying on it, your face pressed into his sheets, your bones and muscles sighing in relief that you're in a bed.

Eyes wishing to flutter shut, body unwinding against the mattress, the sheets. It’s on the third heavy exhale, do you realise you hear water. It falls in pitters and patters, distantly, likely from the bathroom across the hall.

That’s when a smile curls across your face because you’ve always found comfort in the sound of running water.

Whether it’s rivers or rain, and showers or leaks. It reminds you of calmness, of things fading from reach—washing away, starting anew. Memories of times trying to colour themselves in your mind, fading before they do as sleep tries to coax you away.

The only thing which displaces the grip sleep has on you, is the comforting sight that comes to a stop at the foot of the bed.

Steam swirling around him, all broad shoulders and still damp skin—the hair on his chest, arms, and stomach, clinging in half-swirled curls and straight lines, the towel clutched at his hip.

The first time you saw Joel Miller naked, you’d almost lost the function to speak. All man—all soft and muscle simultaneously. Something constructed from fantasies, made in real life, carved and moulded by hands you think never thought he’d be real. You were close to not being able to speak all over again now.

Eyes tracing, outlining and shading—squirrelling away a sketch of him you’ll think about when the other side of the bed is cold and not filled with him.

“Didn’t hear you come in.”

You hum, lifting up onto your elbows, admiring him, finding him doing the same—even if you suspect you’re not half as good-looking right now as he is.

Least of all when he takes your ankle in hand, moving you sideways with him as steps between your legs now hanging off the bed, the fabric of his towel brushing over your jeans, his palms coming down on the mattress on either side of your neck, staring at you with a look of concern.

“Y’not been sleepin’?”

“Just been busy,” you reply, arms looping around his neck. “Not lots of time to rest.”

You suppose at some point between summer and winter, things became soft—less about need and company, and something along the lines of real.

In another world, one not ridden with fungi and death, you suppose it would have been labelled, added something which tied the two of you together—something meaning more to others than it likely would do to you.

Smiling, you force your eyes to open properly. Watching that look of hunger slowly bleed out over the concern, vanishing entirely when you smirk. If the two of you were different, you suspect you'd tell him you miss him. Tell him you've thought about him.

Instead, you whisper, “Want you, Joel.”

Even more so when you trace the words over his mouth. Aware of his hands on your jeans, and how he's popped open the button, how he's dragging down the zipper. The fabric freely slides from your skin as your hands slide down, dropping to the towel at his waist—thumb digging over it, all ready to pull, unravel it. “Need you.”

His eyes narrow swallowed in darkness. “Yeah?”

Nodding, you roll your lips, dragging your fingers to the tuck, undoing it, not taking your eyes off him. Seeing something in his eyes that is more than just reciprocation of the words spoken, but the ones left unsaid.

“You want me?”

However, you’ll have me.

You’re not sure you speak it, but you're sure he hears it all the same.

For how aloof people think he is, he’s a man who listens—not just to the crunch of branches and the rustle of trees, but to the things people don’t say. He hears their secrets and pulls away their lies. Skills he told you one night he levelled up in when the world tried to keep taking more than it had already.

You suppose it’s how he knows you, your body, what you want and what you crave.

More so as he tangles his tongue with yours, all heady—gripping him firm, tightly as his fingers snake between the two of you. Desperation thrumming through your fingers as you push them into his skin, into his muscles—feeling the coil tighten as he moves his fingers with nothing short of precision. Knowing you, having mapped you out, learnt your cues—it’s why you don’t fight it, the incoming wave ready to drench your taut muscles, let him undo you, unravel you out so you’re nothing but spread out for him.

He likes it like that, you can tell. Likes how you surrender to him, how you lay out for him, letting him move you how he needs you.

It used to be rough, desperate—pure carnal. But, it’s been replaced by something else, something not soft or romantic, but you’re sure it’s a distant relative.

Once you’d gotten a bruise on your hip that pulsed, shifted in shades from being nudged against your kitchen table. Now when he leaves them, he traces them with his thumb, hoping to suck out the sting. Because now you’re treated to comfort—too recently washed bedding and his fingers inside your cunt as your body bends into him, practically curls, sings, hums.

“Always so fuckin’ tight for me.”

Compliments don’t fall from his tongue, but they drip from his eyes. They land on your skin, healing scars that don’t show. Each lick of his gaze makes you glow, and feel like something worth choosing, having been picked, plucked—and placed on some mantle you don’t even mind being perched on.

Wrapping your fingers around his wrist, breathing a struggle, practically gasping, you mumble his name—murmur it, almost a whine. “Fuck me now, Joel. Want you inside of me.”

Then, you’re overwhelmed.

Bathed in both the scent of fresh soap, dewy skin and absolute fullness. Your legs wrapping, crossing at the ankles as he slides into the hilt—pausing, just as he always does, fingers brushing over your jaw until he’s tilting your chin.

That same look—the one you first witnessed after the kiss under the dusk.

It doesn’t vanish until you show him, either in a whisper of the magic words or a movement he can read as a spell. Your hips rolling, rocking—please, please.

Your hands take in the feel of him breathing, the way his chest expands, fills with the knowledge, the realisation, nails digging, almost all in order. One he answers, delivers, fucking stamps.

Joel makes your toes curl, makes white noise appear in your ears, and makes you forget every important thing you’ve ever filed away. All hot, scorching against your skin as you grasp him closer, hoping you’ll be smothered in burns—hoping the same when you swallow his grunts, his hisses off your name. His hips pistoning, aiming to send you over the edge before him, hands—riddled with the evidence of his survival and his new hobby keep you rooted, don’t allow you to wander off into bliss without him.

“Too good f’me, sweetheart.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” he grunts, right against your pulse, before he licks against what beats under your skin.

You snort amidst your whine, clutching all the strings which keep you whole as you close your eyes—banish him from looking into your soul. He’s seen all there is there, let him in before, provided flashes, evidence of your shattered soul and broken mentality. It comes to the surface easier here, when your walls suck him in, and your body calls for him in a chorus of pleading and begging.

Because you’re close—not needing too much from him tonight, the sight of him is enough. The knowledge of his existence, knowing he’s yours without confirmation.

“There, right there,” you moan, heels digging into the base of his back, feeling the jostle of him, the way he rears and fucks.

He smirks, shifting, just enough to make the head of his cock hit the spot which makes your thighs shake, tremble, fucking quake. His mouth still split open, words there on his tongue, all ready to drape over your skin—

But, you just feel it’s incoming arrival. All white-hot, blinding—too much pressure, yet needing just a little bit more. Your body is not yours, mind empty, gone, faded. You want to sink your teeth into him, bite down, cut into him and leave a mark like the ones he leaves inside you each time the two of you do this.

Because it means something. This. The two of you in this little house in fucking Jackson. Doesn’t it? Doesn’t it?

“Yea’,” he grunts, palm on your face, tilting you up roughly, forcing your eyes to open.

And you swear he smiles when they flash open. You swear it.

“Means somethin’, sweetheart. This—fuck—us.”

The words grind into you. As though he's the pestle and your mortar. Your breath is lost, unable to be grasped, your body hanging, pleasure a bigger force—swallowing the room, casting you in shadows and misting over you—until you cry out. Squeezing, fluttering.

Not able to see anything but his face, the look on his face—the twisted expression of his lips and the deepness of his eyes. More black, than brown—but they’re somehow still soft, still full of something you hope is pleasant and full of emotions.

It only vanishes briefly when he spills inside of you.

When he collapses on top of you—his heart hammering against your ribs. And, even if it isn’t the first time, you feel yourself still—pause, no rash movements, because this is nice, this is something you want without asking for it.

“Can’t believe I can hear y’brain already.”

Snorting, you roll your eyes, glancing over—finding his lips have slid into his cheek.

It gnaws at you, the reason for your lack of sleep. The thing which you've traded hours of rest for. That dormant part pushed to the edge by exhaustion, now awake and very much worrying.

“Got you something,” you whisper, biting your lip, watching his brows furrow and lines appear between them.

Standing up, you steal the dressing gown from the back of his door—the one you’d traded for months ago. The one which is far too big, even for him, making it only cosier when you borrow it. Shooting him a smile, you almost disguise it, worried it's far too soft, too normal, before you mumble about being right back.

It's a hurry to the front door, all feet hammering down on wooden steps before your hand digs in your coat pocket, retrieving the wrapped thing you’ve lost shuteye over.

When you enter, he’s under the sheets—hair at odd angles, looking both a mixture of energised and fucked out that you wish you could paint with your fingers, so you'd forever have it.

“Didn’t wanna give this to you on the 25th—just in case you popped a vein trying to figure out what it means.”

Kneeling on the bed, you take a levelling breath, before handing it to him. His eyes travelling from you to it, fingers taking it—all delicate, measured. Before he unpeels the ribbon, undressing it with more care than he often shows you, before it rolls free of the paper you managed to find. It catches the ceiling light, glinting, gleaming, the handle looking even more detailed in this light than under the candles you’d had to use to remain discreet.

In your hand, the knife had appeared large, and menacing. In his, it looked right.

Yet, his face looked as though it was anything but.

Enough for you to prod, needle. To nudge closer on your knees, to smooth out the sheets and then flick your lashes up, finding him already staring, weighing it up—whatever coated his tongue, had been written in his mind.

“Sweetheart… I don’t… I don’t deserve this—”

More words fall in silence, not quite spoken, yet somehow loud.

Enough for you to say his name, to rest your knee on the bed and deeply sigh.

“You…’m not a good man.”

You almost laugh, but you don’t. Crawling up, placing your hand on his chest, you take a shaky breath. “I’m not sure I care.”

And you don't.

Because it's easy to feel something for him, to love him. It's natural, there one day and the day after. It wasn't hard or difficult, but very fucking easy.

Your mouth even opens to say as much, but you close it again before a syllable is muttered.

Wrapping the gift, he moves it from between the two of you, to the bedside table. His fingers linger, hovering over the carved wood—the one which caused splinters and made your eyes almost cross over. “Y’should. M’not an easy man to love.”

“I disagree,” you whisper, fingers having slid up to the base of his neck, your fingers teasing his curls. “Since I’m pretty sure I already feel those things for you.”

His brows lift, and you smile—letting it speak the words you can’t say, and you’re sure he’s not willing to hear.

“Don’t sweat it, alright? You’re mine, I’m yours. Yeah?”

Nodding, he bites his cheek, placing the knife back into the packaging—moving it, replacing what he’d been holding with your wrist as he pulls you close.

“Got you somethin’ too.”

Nose bumping his, you shift closer, thighs finding themselves on either side of him—his hands finding a place on them, sliding up, callouses grazing on your skin, before squeezing.

“But y’gotta wait until the 25th. Like a good girl.”

Smirking, you cup his cheeks. "Okay, Miller. I'll wait."

an: merry christmas, i hope you love this <3

[letters-to-lgbt-kids]

My dear lgbt+ kids,

I feel like advice on loneliness comes in only three flavors:

"It's all mindset, learn to embrace being alone and you'll never feel lonely!"

"Your head is lying to you, you have friends and they love you!"

"Here's a list of places you can go to hang out with people and make new friends!"

Those are usually well-meant and I'm sure there are situations where they do help someone feel better - but they're definitely not universally applicable.

The first one is even plain wrong: connection is a basic human need. You can't just "change your mindset" and turn that off, the same way you can't turn off your need for food or air or mental stimulation. Humans are group animals. We absolutely need social interactions to stay healthy and sane. It is true that some people do not need a large number of friends and are happiest with just one or two close friends, and it is also true that some people prefer to fulfill their social needs in other ways than what's traditionally defined as friendship - but that's not something you can (or should) try to train yourself to do, that's just natural differences and preferences!

The only thing you could "train" yourself to do would be to learn to ignore your social needs and bury them deep down under layers of denial... and you don't need me to explain to you why that's a very unhealthy idea. It's sad enough that so many people have to do that to not lose their minds in loneliness, we certainly don't need to celebrate an unhealthy coping skill as a "superior mindset".

The other two at least get a bit closer to the truth: the solution for your unmet need is not to kill the need, but to fulfill it... but that's easier said than done, isn't it?

After all, "Don't worry, your friends love you!" doesn't help if you have no friends. Loneliness is not always "all in your head": Maybe you moved to a new place and don't know anyone there. Or you cut off contact with all your friends after a big fight. Or you grew up neurodivergent (or got mentally ill at a young age) and had no chance to learn how to make friends at the age most kids do, and by now you have been friendless for so long you don't even know where to start.

Same with "just go to a bar and talk to some new people" or "Take a pottery class and you'll meet some interesting people there" - that's not factually wrong, but also not helpful if the reason you feel lonely is that you struggle to make friends (or even struggle to just talk to people). Which can also be part of neurodivergence or mental illness, or just be a part of your personality (shyness), or be a result of isolating circumstances (like having spent a lot of time in a closed environment, for example a long hospital stay, and now feeling unsure how to connect with people outside of that environment). 

And those are just a few of the many, many possible explanations why someone may be lonely that require a more individualized approach - which is why we can’t solve loneliness with any one-size-fits-all solution.

That may be a somewhat disappointing-sounding conclusion in a letter on loneliness, so let me also tell you: hope and support are always within reach, even if it might take some time and patience to find them. The key is to remember that your feelings are valid and that you're not alone in your struggle.

First, recognize that admitting that you feel lonely, and wanting to take action based on that feeling, is a sign of strength, not weakness. You’re pretty insightful for recognizing your loneliness and super brave for wanting to reach out!

Secondly, be kind to yourself and allow yourself to take small steps. Small, actually manageable steps are crucial in any healing journey! If it’s not an option to just go to the bar or that pottery class, then it’s okay to start somewhere else. Maybe a therapist, a support group, or even online communities can be valuable “training sessions” for social connections. Even reaching out to one single person can make a significant difference over time. Your journey to finding companionship and connection might be different from someone else’s, but that doesn't make it any less valid (or achievable!).

Lastly, do consider embracing new activities that you may enjoy - but not just for the sake of meeting others. It’s important to nurture your own happiness and well-being when you’re feeling lonely. Those can be activities you can try out alone and even at home, for now! Anything that enriches your life is good. Long down the road, maybe it will lead to opportunities to connect with others, but even if it doesn’t: it’s important to incorporate new experiences into your life.

While there isn't a universal solution to loneliness, I truly believe there is a path forward for everyone. It's all about finding what works for you.

With all my love,

Your Tumblr Dad

[dannymayevent]

Dannymay 2024

Welcome back to Dannymay! We sincerely apologize for the delay this year, as we're releasing this just a day before the event is due to start. Life's been a bit hectic for all of us, but we're here now and ready to get this event started for you!

If you aren't aware, Dannymay is a yearly event where creators are given a daily prompt and are free to run with it! Any and all art is allowed; fanfiction, fanart, music, poetry, and anything else will be welcomed!

Feel free to complete as many or as few prompts as you'd like, and remember to have fun! When you're done, post your creations to Tumblr with the #Dannymay2024 tag so we can see it!

Like last year, we'll be compiling an ao3 collection under the tag Dannymay 2024, and we'll fire up the Dannymay discord for another year - the link is in our FAQ!

Full text prompt list and AU explanations are below the cut

Insect

2. Wish

3. Invisible

4. Wander

5. Nails

6. Immortal AU: What if Danny/Halfas couldn't die?

7. Mind Control

8. Style Challenge: A unique prompt to kick off the second week! Take the characters and draw them in the style of a different piece of media, or experiment with your own style and see what you can make!

9. Hunger

10. Mausoleum

11. Mutation

12. Time Travel

13. D&D AU: Drop the characters into the world of Dungeons & Dragons, or imagine them playing the game!

14. Light

15. Field Trip

16. Glowing Veins

17. Equilibrium

18. Revenge

19. Iron

20. Pitch AU: What if the show had aired as presented in the Pitch Bible, where Danny is a human with an owl named Spooky, rides a motorcycle, and has a psychic connection with Sam? For more information, the Bible has been uploaded to the Internet Archive

21. Funeral

22. Song Lyric: Just one week left! Take a line from a song you like and use that as inspiration!

23. Reflection

24. Electricity

25. Games

26. Shoes

27. Zombie AU: What if the ghosts were zombies, or what if canon Amity Park were to face a zombie apocalypse?

28. Healing

29. Fireworks

30. Goodbye

31. Free Day: You made it, thanks for participating in the event! For the last day, create anything you'd like!