#can confirm cause I have both!!

[kosmogrl]

[dykedvonte]

I think it says something that Jimmy absolutely destroyed the crew and ship in half the time Curly was captain. Like he couldn’t even get them past 2 full months before breaking down.

Like he really couldn’t be half the man he thought Curly was.

[formal-frog-shoes]

Twiststuck stuff i just wanna get out

Im a huge Cater multi-shipper

Normally this wouldn't be a problem

BUT I CAN'T HAVE ALMOST EVERYONE IN THIS AU HAVE A FLUSH OR PALE CRUSH ON HIM THAT'S ABSURD!!!

[akkivee]

another rio and dice plot parallel i like is that they both had mics before chuuoku chose to redistribute them

[kravchikfreak]

i bet you know how these two pairs are the same one ship

and i FUCKING HATE them both for that

shit's gross, i'm actually anwell

i'll rant on my stupid tags but this is important

[getmenaced]

Is Karlach's soul destroyed if she explodes?? I'm pretty sure that Gale's is if he blows up the orb (rip) but even if Karlach burns up it would be possible to bring her back with a Wish right? I guess there's no rule on the books (that I've been able to find) about recreating a destroyed soul with wish but it makes sense that a soul that was completely eradicated wouldn't be able to be brought back even with a wish.. I guess it would depend on your dm. Someone get larian on the phone

[no-light-left-on]

hot take but taking every hearsay or rumor or book in a fictional universe for fact is bad understanding of the world as the story presents it, actually

[tavtarnish]

Canonically all of the 141 are millennials

[paverics]

cheating on your partner is not funny and I’m not a fan, but the way they’ve actually caused ethical debate, got people discussing geopolitical ramifications and just generally inflicting minus 10 cultural relations….anyway my condolences to the victim. hope you find peace and love x

[todayisafridaynight]

Mine Yoshitaka? Briefly a gangster? Parent died? Had Kanda decapitated? Homosexual?

Once again I am forced to think of the line “He was the only man I ever loved” who says that about a fAtHeR fIgUrE. This is what happens to men when society won’t let them say they love their homies and male family members. They clutch onto queer video game characters for all the wrong reasons

if i wanna play devil's advocate, there are some girls i've heard say the only man they love is their dad, but i dont think that applies here......... 💀

[matamisin]

Dunno about any art this week cause it's gonna be a little busyyyy just a liiiitle 🤏

[littlepocketuniverse]

This glance kind of breaks my heart because it is physical evidence that Edwin knows what he wants, even as he knows he cannot have it.

Sometimes I think about how much it must have hurt for Edwin to realise his feelings at the same time Charles and Crystal are getting together. To be forced to watch them flirt and kiss and get together knowing he cannot have that with Charles. To face the internalised homophobia dead on, watching the boy he loves flirting with Crystal and wondering if things might be different if he had been a girl. If Charles would have wanted him then, or if the unlovable thing was Edwin himself and not his gender. To discuss kissing with Charles like there is not this aching, wanting, craving, affectionate thing in his chest, and pretend he understands any of what it is to want to kiss a girl. To pretend the knowledge of what he is, of who he loves, of the way it might ruin everything they have together, isn't terrifying. That instead, they are just two dead boys talking about kissing, and Edwin's curiosity is something mild and normal. The way he must sever his voice from the solitary longing of his incorporeal heart to prevent it from skipping at the thought of what it would be to kiss Charles. How he must pretend that it does bleed to conceal his love like this, and how it is so much harder to staunch the flow when he cannot deny the knowledge that he is a boy who loves boys. That he is a boy who loves one boy in particular - and he cannot have him.

DEAD BOY DETECTIVES (2024)

1.05 - The Case of the Two Dead Dragons

Or,

Edwin. I saw that.

[talkorsomething]

I was asked if i was restless at the appointment, and at the time i said no, but now i'm realizing that's EXACTLY what's going on :'5

in theory i should be taking it as easy as possible & chilling & watching tv or whatever it is people do but like . I just CANT somehow. Not even that i don't want to - i just can't seem to make myself do it. So i've definitely accidentally downplayed whatever's going on......

Anyways, for reasons i (shouldn't) say it looks like i'll probably have to figure out how to get another job when the odds are stacked against me. It's not just that i'm autistic, it's also ... [redacted]. I tried something that i thought would work & she doesn't even seem to realize it's actually MASSIVELY fucked me over. And, well, i do, in fact, need more support to get to the level of "actual functioning adult" that she seems to think i'm already at.

Just... i can function well enough at home that i don't think about it, but there's certain aspects of living that i'm going to need taught, and throwing me to the wolves in the name of "teaching yourself how to be independent" really isn't going to work out.

[arolesbianism]

Vibrates. Normal. I'm normal. I'm so normal.

[kaidatheghostdragon]

More, because im kind of sad that nobody else has added to this. (Btw all my ideas/prompts are free for anyone to take and make their own - even if its something ive massively fleshed out and you want to take it a different direction. All i ask is you drop a link so i can read whatever you did!)

Tim was the first of the bats to be hit by the strange weapon. The white suits had shown up in gotham a few weeks ago shooting up the place, and about one-fifth of the people they hit were instantly evaporated.

The bats were at their wits end trying to investigate, and nobody was allowed to patrol alone. The Justice League was also reporting that the suits had been spotted in a number of other cities, including Fawcett and Central City. However, the strange weapons seemed to be far more lethal in Gotham than anywhere else.

The suits loudly declared that anyone who was evaporated was a malevolent ghost pretending to be human. They had scanners that they used on *everyone,* and shot anyone who measured above a certain threshold without hesitation or remorse.

The bats had stolen one of the scanners pretty early on and found that every one of them measured above the threshold. Whatever logic the suits were using to justify their crusade was clearly nonsense.

Tim had found a lead, a rumor that one of the evaporated had reappeared. They lived in crime alley, and as per the buddy system currently in force, and Hood's rule that no bat enters his territory without his escort, Jason partnered with Tim to investigate.

White suits were already swarming the place, possibly catching wind of the same rumor. Hood and Red Red Robin booked it out as fast as they could, but as luck would have it, the scanners picked up their presence, and the suits gave chase, relentless in their pursuit.

Hood knew every inch of the alley and carefully led Red Robin through many narrow escape routes, forcing the suits to seperate and regroup, but none of it was enough to shake them when they could somehow track the bats' movements.

Tim was running the math as they escaped. Jason had died and came back, and was arguably closest to what the agents claimed of everyone over the scanner's threshold. There was no doubt in Tim's mind that it Hood was hit, he would be killed.

In fact, nearly everyone in the family had died at some point or another. Everyone except Tim. Yes, he was over the scanner's threshold, but only barely. There was still about an 80% chance that he would be unaffected. The agents would stop chasing him if the gun didn't affect him, and it would give jason a chance to escape.

Tim had worked with worse odds before. And if it did kill him? Better him than jason. Bruce wouldn't survive losing jason a second time, no matter how emotionally constipated they both were to each other. Tim had always been just a replacement.

So Red Robin lagged behind, waiting for an opportunity where Hood was far enough a way to get out of the scanner's range while the agents focused on Red Robin.

When Tim felt his entire body go numb from the shot, he knew his gamble had failed. He could only spend his last fraction of a second of critical thought, hoping that Jason wasn't dumb enough to turn around.

And then Tim woke up. Or maybe that wasn't the right description, as he wasn't fully convinced he had even lost consciousness. A quick self-check confirmed that he was whole and uninjured, laying on *extremely* soft carpeted floor.

Tim sat up, guaging his surroundings as quickly as possible. He was in an extremely large room, walls of stone like an old keep or castle. In the center of the room stood a piece of frankensteined tech that Tim *guessed* was some sort of antennae, by the overall shape of it. Covering most of the walls were shelves stacked to capacity with various medical supplies and emergency first aid equipment. There were a couple of prepped and ready--to-use gurneys, and a clear-doored fridge stocked with glass jars and iv bags filled with a lazarus green liquid.

In one corner of the room, sitting on two stools, was an enormous black knight cloaked in purple flames, and next to him, an honest-to-god yeti, one arm made of clear ice, even displaying the arm bones.

"Ah, another liminal," the yeti commented.

The knight sighed as they stood, "I'll go inform the prince," then promptly vanished into thin air in a whirl of purple flame.

Half an hour later, as Tim was asking a million questions of the ever-patient and delightfully friendly yeti, Red Hood showed up the same way Red Robin had, battered and bruised. As Tim and his new friend Frostbite gave Jason emergency medical care, Jason (after getting over the shock of still being alive and returning back to vigilante mode) informed Tim that he did, in fact, turn around ("WHAT in the GODDAMN FUCK were you THINKING, Tim?!?!") and the agents had attempted to live-capture Hood, but he had put up so much of a fight that they decided to shoot him instead when he had nearly escaped.

He had also called in back-up after Tim had been shot, and right on cue, Robin and Nightwing appeared in the room. More injured than Tim but less than Jason.

Great, Tim thought, Bruce is probably really going through it right now. So much for noble sacrifices.

Good reveal au, where after learning phantom's identity and realizing the atrocities that the GIW have committed (or alternatively, ethical science au, where they find out the GIW plagarized them), the fenton parents decided to create the 'ultimate ghost-ending weapon' and sell it to the agents.

They go absolutely overboard, describing to the agents in meticulous detail how it evaporates any ghost it hits near-instantly and describing it quite ruthlessly in the blueprints, and soon the GIW have raplaced all their main weapons with the new gun.

Except it doesn't actually kill ghosts. It's the Fenton Bazooka. You know, the one that creates a portable portal to suck the ghost back into the ghost zone? What they actually did was retool it slightly to make it look more grusome than it actually is. They even added a beacon in Phantom's Keep, which all Fenton Bazookas will target when they open a portal, so the ghosts are always delivered to the keep.

From there, Phantom stationed an emergency medical team at the keep to treat the many injured and ragged ghosts that the GIW 'destroyed,' and to explain what just happened.

What they didn't anticipate was that now that the GIW have a mass-produced weapon that they believed would effectively eradicate ghosts, they would go on the offensive. They have a number of cities they've been monitoring but didn't want to get involved in without better tools.

One of those cities is Gotham.

And the Bats are ectocontaminated enough to register as ghosts.

Batman witnessed several of his children get evaporated by green energy weapons within mere moments of each other. He's absolutely gutted. Devastated. They didn’t even stand a chance.

He'll get his revenge, and it's frighteningly easy to track the weapon to private subcontractors. The Doctors Fenton, in Illinois. Their research calls for the genocide of all ghost kind, and apparently, that war started by killing his own children.

His children will not die in vain.

He gets to Amity Park and finds the Engineer's Nightmare of a building that is Fentonworks, but that night, before he can hack through the security and break in, one of the windows opens.

It's one of his kids that he had watched evaporate before his very eyes. They give him a silent signal of one of their identifying security codes and gesture for him to come inside.

Is it a trap? A prank in poor taste? Utterly genuine?

He goes through the window.

All of his dead kids are there, wearing borrowed pajamas and only their dominoes to conceal their identities. Daniel Fenton (son of the Fentons, this is his bedroom, has voiced a few arguments against his parent's views, but still an unknown) is among the crowd of teens and young adults, twirling on an office chair and obnoxiously sipping a capri sun.

"First thing you need to know, Bats," Daniel says after finishing his drink, "is that my parents are absolutely NOT genocidal ectophobic scumbags, and that is the reason why your kids are still alive."

[sunni-stuff]

P1 here.

Ghost walks through the door of your home as if he owns the place, tossing his keys onto the coffee table and shrugging off his gear by the door. He remembers your address by heart and recognizes the space he's walking through once again. 

Glancing around, he expected to see you greet him at the foyer only to be met with silence. Ghost passes by your couch, gloved fingers running against the back while his mind replays the sounds of your needy moans from when he fingered you on the cushions just weeks ago.

Ghost has had countless flings and meaningless one night stands, but never did he expect any of the doves he's played with to actively call for more. 

Though he wasn't complaining.

A creaking floorboard causes his head to snap towards the stairs. There, he sees you cautiously descending, the sides of your nightgown clutched anxiously in your palms. “I didn't think you'd actually show.” 

Simon stares at you, his eyes roaming over your form, taking in every dip and curve visible through the lacey material. He lets out a heavy breath, fist clenched in deep restraint as he thanked every single god above for what's standing in front of him. “How can I ignore a civilian in need?”

Your laugh makes him still, the mirthful chuckle and the smile on your lips making the tent in his pants ache painfully.

Did you know what you were doing to him? How just your chuckles alone stirred something profound?

“So… upstairs or on the couch?” You ask, breaking the silence.

“You wanted me here, love. Dealers' choice.” Simon watches you fumble, fingers thumbing over the lacing decorating the bottom of your nightgown.

“Upstairs then.”

For Simon, everything seems to happen in blurs. Just moments ago he was standing by the stairs and the next he's in between your legs, one large hand splayed over your stomach having you lay back motioning for you to relax as he eats you out like a man starved.

He doesn't remember how he got here; all that matters now is the taste of your cunt on his tongue. Simon laps at your glossy lips, tongue gliding your sensitive folds to your clit, making sure to give both his undivided attention. He needed no words to know he was doing a good job; your knees attempting to lock behind his head was added confirmation if your whines for more weren't enough.

“Can't you just put it in?” You huff in between moans, attempting to sit up on your elbows despite his efforts to keep you down.

“Shhh…” Simon coos, pressing a fleeting kiss on your pearl before pulling away his chin and lips shining your slick. “Look at that, practically begging for me.” A thick digit runs down your slit, gathering a pool of wetness and licking it off his fingers. 

Simon gazes at your cunt, observing how just his lips hovering near causes your weeping hole to clench around nothing. He could watch this all day. Watch how badly you needed him. How only he had the privilege to hear you beg.

“Alright, fussy bird,” He stands up straight, his shadow completely consuming you, the stark differences between you two are evident. Simon is not a small man in the slightest. Everything about him screams large. His presence commands attention, from his muscular arms down to his sturdy thighs.

Simon grabs ahold of your waist, pulling you against his bulge, slowly grinding his hips up and down, teasing you along the rough fabric of his jeans. He shows a little restraint, purposely holding back in hopes of hearing more pleas. “Come on, love, tell me what you need.”

This is what you dreamed of. His hands, his voice, his lips against your skin, a true dream come true. The final stretch was so close, so near and yet he still kept you tethered to the edge. “Please, I need it,” You mewl desperately, hips bucking for more friction.

Simon chuckles lightly, watching as you practically bounce in anticipation. "Someone's in a hurry," he jokes, despite his growing ardor matching your own.

With nimble fingers, he quickly unbuttons his jeans, sliding them down along with his boxers until he's bare to you. His eyes bore into yours as he did so, a silent question in them. His large cock sprang free, bobbing up against his stomach in time with his rapid heartbeat. 

The sight of his length, standing proud and erect, was enough to intensify the heat pooling in the pit of your stomach. Finally, you'd be full once again, getting to feel that cock of his in places no one else can reach. You nod all too eagerly, laying back to fully embrace everything.

With a swift lift of your hips, Simon nudges the edge of himself against you, drawing a ragged groan as he feels the wet heat of your waiting entrance. One hand grabbing his length, he slowly guided his throbbing cock against your slick folds. The head of his erection teased your entrance for a moment, before he pressed forward, burying himself inside you. “Fuck, fuck, more, please.” 

Simon can't help but smirk at your eagerness, patting your thigh appreciatively. “Can't rush things, dove. Don't want you breaking.” It's a slow push, his cock stretching your welcoming heat inch by inch. As he bottomed out, he let out a throaty groan, his fingers digging into your hips, anchoring you to him.

You cum in that exact moment, your pussy squeezing tightly around him and milking his cock. It feels like a faucet that won't stop dripping, coating his length with your sweet juices. For a brief moment you're dazed, head swimming and unable to hear anything over the sound of your heavy breathing.

“Fuck me,” he breathes, admiring the sight of you breathless. You feel like velvet, your pussy a vice he wasn’t sure he’d be able to quit. His thumb pushes against your clit and you whine, your voice high-pitched.

“Sensitive, please,” you beg, squirming until his hands force your hips down. Your lips are forced into an o shape, a silent scream forced from your chest when he does the exact opposite.

You’re not sure if you’re begging for him to stop or begging for more–it’s hard to tell when you’re being fucked within an inch of your life.

“Stay with me dove, stay with me,” Simon sneers, something depraved and feral in his voice. “Lemme make you feel good.”

Once the initial shock of cumming has passed, he begins to move inside you, setting a slow, deliberate pace. With every thrust, he claimed more of you, your bodies moving together in synchronicity. The scent of your sex mingled in the confined space of your bedroom, intensifying the intimate atmosphere.

Simon closes his eyes, wanting to savor the moment. Everything about this is mesmerizing. He'd rather be here than anywhere else in the world.

A hitched moan has him opening his eyes, his gaze boring into yours, wanting to see every flicker of pleasure that passes through you. Thank you, god, Simon thinks. He could feel himself teetering on the edge, but he held on, wanting to draw this pleasure out as long as possible. He wanted to give you everything and more.

“Feel like heaven,” he breathes. “Is this what you wanted? Wanted me nice and deep huh?”

His palm presses on your stomach where his cock bulges the skin, his grin wicked. “Poor girl, can’t make herself cum so she had to call me, yeah?”

You nod, a symphony of yes yes yes escaping you as Simon bears down upon you, the bed rocking with each movement.

“Had to call me because you know no one can fuck you like I can,” he says, “say it for me, c’mon.”

You hiccup through every word. “N-No one can fuck me—oh god—like you Si’—”

Your words make his ego grow, muttering of that's fuckin’ right streaming from his lips as he comes, the feeling sending your nerves on overdrive. 

As he felt you tightening around him, he knew you were close—as close as he was. His hand slipped between their bodies, his fingers finding your sensitive nub, applying just the right amount of pressure. He stroked in rhythm with his thrusts, chasing your orgasm with his.

Your pleasure peaked simultaneously, his cum filling you as you cum around him, walls clenching and rippling along his length in your aftershock. After a moment, he pulls out carefully, the room filled with your heavy breathing. 

Neither of you spoke for a while, simply staring back at each other through lust-filled eyes and flushed cheeks. Simon starts his retreat, stepping back to make distance and pulling up his pants. Your hand on his makes him pause. He raises a brow, confused by your actions. He opens his mouth but you're quicker.

“We aren't done.”

-

The original prompt was supposed to be a little thing; but so many people liked it, so here <3! This most likely won't be a series.

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