#my dms are always open ���

[rafeandonlyrafe]

well 🧍‍♀️ as a reminder this blog is NOT a safe space for trump supporters but it IS a safe place for women, queers, trans ppl, people of color, undocumented people, and any marginalized group.

[fadetodvst]

[wikiangela]

for what it's worth, I will still create for bucktommy, write fics for them, even if I move away from fandom and/or the show a bit (or even stop watching completely). I haven't had a more inspiring ship in a while, maybe ever, and they haven't managed to kill that inspiration, and I'm not letting them take it from me. I will write about bucktommy until I'm completely out of ideas. they're ours now, tommy is ours now, and we can do right by them and give them the love and ending they deserve.

fuck canon.

[suntails]

[sharing/rb appreciated 💛]

my silver artbook is FINISHED and will open for preorders on 8/31 at 12pm EST!! it's been almost 3 months of work and i'm so excited to finally be able to share all the art i've worked on, PLUS a small bonus charm!

if u know silver fans,,, tell them

[visionsynth]

btw. drops this here because life is getting very uh rough

[theghostkingisdead]

dpxdc - Neglected Child AU

As one of his first acts as Ghost King, Danny basically created ghost CPS. Mostly they help new spirits come to terms with the fact that they're dead, but situations like Danny's are a lot more common than the Observants had lead him to believe. People who come back from the dead or are exposed to large quantities of unstable ectoplasm often lead sad, short second lives. Either because they are unable to obtain the nutrients their new forms require, or because their communities turn against them in fear. This is a story about Jason Todd.

There was a lot Jazz loved about her job. She loved helping young ghosts find acceptance. She loved matching cases with foster Fraids. She loved meeting new people. She loved the rare excuse to travel dimensions. But some days, Jazz was intimately reminded of why this program was formed in the first place.

Knock, knock, knock.

Jazz looked up from her laptop. “Come in!”

Apple – the ghost of a dryad whose tree was chopped down two summers ago – poked her head in.

“Uh, Lady- I mean, Ms. Phan-, no,” Apple took a shuddering breath. Jazz smiled encouragingly. The girl had only been working here for a season, and already she was making excellent progress. “Ms. Jasmine, there’s a city spirit here to see you, uh, on behalf of a uh, potential client.”

“Thank you, Apple, you can send them in.” Jazz said.

Apple flushed green, closing the door with a sigh. Jazz guessed she had about two minutes before the impromptu meeting began. She used the time to sweep some papers off her desk and into a drawer. It had been some time since she’d had a walk-in like this. Jazz had a strict open doors policy when it came to her office, despite the technical fact that her door was often closed; it was just easier to focus that way! She had no idea why most ghosts preferred to submit claims by mail, really it was much better for them to speak with an officer in person.

Thirty years ago, Jazz would’ve had trouble describing the spirit that walked through the doors. Fifty years ago, even looking at it would’ve been painful. But Jasmine Duchess Phantom had been living in the Infinite Realms for almost eighty years now, and liminal senses reached out subconsciously, cataloging scents and colors that her mortal mind would have balked at.

The shape of a steel-colored skeleton peered out at her from a billowing cloud of grey smoke, which curled around its feet and seeped across the floor. Jazz tasted gunmetal and sugar, smelled stale urine and burned bread, felt desperation-fear-hunger-love crash violently against her. Like a cliff to a wave, Jazz stood her ground, letting herself be tested. This spirit was old and afraid; when it spoke, it spoke in a million overlapping voices.

“My apologies for barging in unannounced, Your Grace. I come before you with an issue of great import. One I have reason to believe our King may have a personal interest in.”

Jazz nodded, “My doors are always open, City Spirit. I’m always happy to help. But before I hear your petition, may I know who I am addressing?”

The skeleton did not move that she could see, but Jazz heard windchimes like chittering laughter.

“I am Gotham, Your Grace. My apologies for my rudeness. I have little reason to travel these days and am unaccustomed to necessary introductions.”

Jazz nodded, committing the name and its taste to memory. “No need to apologize, Gotham. Your situation is not unique amongst your kind. Have a seat,” Jazz gestured at the plush couch across from her desk. “What troubles you so, to bring you so far from home?”

There was more windchime tittering, and Jazz wondered if the spirit was laughing or just readjusting itself on a plane she could not see. A nervous tick, perhaps? Maybe she could send Apple for something to make Gotham feel more at ease. Bullet casings or chocolate chip cookies would be equally soothing to this entity, Jazz guessed.

Gotham folded into itself, form blurring slightly before reforming on the couch, leaned forward with elbows on knees. “Many years ago, a mortal man pledged himself to my service. I accepted him as a City Guard, my mortal Champion. This man has many children who have likewise pledged themselves to my protection.”

Jazz smothered the urge to interrupt. She loathed the idea of child Guards; the fact that this City Spirit was here now asking for help meant that this instance had gone just as well as it usually did.

Unaware of her internal judgement, Gotham continued. “The second child died and revived some seven years ago, I…” This time, the rattling sound emanating from Gotham shook the room with the force of a thunderclap. “You have to understand, I don’t claim kids as champions, so technically he was never even under my protection. And when he came back, he ran! I don’t have power outside the city, you know, so even if, well, it’s not like there was anything I could have done differently,”

Jazz was aware that she was frowning. She could only guess what her aura felt like to Gotham, whose smoky aura was rapidly thickening. A bird puffing itself up to look bigger. A cheap trick. If Jazz were in a more compassionate mood, she might have felt embarrassed at such a juvenile display from a spirit decades older than herself.

“You neglected a child, or-” she cut off Gotham before it could protest, “allowed a child to be neglected. For seven years. What changed? Why petition him now and not then?”

Gotham chittered, “Well, you see, he came back to me just over a year ago, retook his pledge and everything. And, well, things were rough, I thought the fraid was just readjusting itself, but, er-”

“Tell me.”

“Well, the problem is I don’t exactly know what the boy is anymore, but he’s more ghostly than not, and his fraid’s fully human. If this infighting between my Guards goes on for any longer, it’ll tear me apart. I figured The King might want to step in, considering this boy might be a halfa, maybe he could help him and the fraid get back to normal.”

Jazz grinned. “Rest assured, Gotham, The Crown will indeed be taking special interest in your case.” Words dripped from her lips, caustic even to her own ears. “Now, why don’t you go outside and give Apple the rest of the details. I have some visits to make.”

[thejokeson-you]

I wish I had more t4t friends that will just in the middle of a chill text convo tell me how horny they are and what theyd do to me or what they want me to do to them.

👀

[nottsangel]

sending all my love and strength and hugs to my american friends and followers ♡

[anxietywasright]

Everytime I speak, Im always reminded of why I should've kept quiet in the first place

[slytherinslut0]

tldr: respect eachother.

this is the post i’m referring to. read this first. 🤍

there are a few different topics id like to cover here; before i begin, please know that i am coming wholly from a place of respect and understanding, while also feeling the need to defend my friend. mari (@thatdammchickennugget) is one of the sweetest, full hearted individuals i have had the pleasure of meeting, and she did not deserve to be spoken to like that.

most important; respect.

the fact i even have to reiterate this fact is disheartening in itself, but, please: give respect, get respect. at the heart of this fandom, we are all here for the same reason. to read and write for characters we love. it seems that sometimes, perhaps we forget this fact and we focus too much on the analytics of it all.

i understand the frustration, i too was once a new writer and can promise you the feeling is not lost on me. you are valid for having these feelings, but there is a right and a wrong way to go about it.

there simply has just been too much hate in this fandom lately. there are tensions for all sorts of reasons. shaming and mocking people for making friends and fostering safe spaces is not how this fandom has ever operated. ‘big blogs’ are humans with feelings, the exact same as you, and to immediately assume the reason they aren’t reading or reblogging your fics is because they don’t want to support anyone except their friends is an unfortunate stance to take; given it’s simply not true.

perhaps you may be forgetting that there are real lives behind these screens. lives with traumas and grief and heartache and stress. not actively reblogging every fic we come across doesn’t equate to not wanting to support, it may just simply mean that we’re going through some shit and don’t have the time to read as much as we’d like to.

for new writers, a side note;

if you’re a new writer, you need to assess within yourself why it is you’re writing. there’s going to be low points, topics or themes not as highly sought. low notes do not depict your worth, and to point fingers at others because they’re not supporting you the way you want them to, screams to me, someone who is writing for all the wrong reasons.

interactions and reblogs are so fucking appreciated but shouldn’t be the root of why you are doing what you’re doing. i write for tom more than anyone and his fandom is the smallest aside from blaise. the amount of writers that actively reblog my fics is very very low, and that’s okay. no one owes me or you anything.

i’m going to wrap this up by saying this; over half of my mutuals are small blogs or nonwriters. i have made majority of my mutuals on here by interactions alone, wether it be me searching for fics or them commenting on mine. it’s easy to make friends, it’s easy to find those supports, you just have to reach out.

i will always encourage every single one of you, to send me your fics, to tag me in them, whatever the hell you want to do. it’s hard to be everywhere at once. i have always been loving and welcoming and inclusive to everyone, i know all of you know this. if anyone wants my support, do not ever be afraid to ask it. i will not bite you, i will not ignore you, i will not tell you to get lost.

reach out. i’m here. 🤍

[ocean1221]

Hero x villain

Hero doesn't know villain is a teenager that became a villain because they were bored, villain does a great job at hiding their age that is until finals weeks come around villain is busy studying and completely forgets about their 'side job' hero thinks villain is planning something really bad instead villain is trying to figure out how to find x

[xoxoemynn]

Hello OFMD crew! I love you and I'm happy you're here. 💕

[npcproject]

NPC 013 Sweet Matilda

[the-titfucker]

I think girlcock would fix me.

I think girlcock between my tits would fix me.

I think girlcock thrusting messily and smearing my cleavage with precum while you objectify me for my massive tits would fix me.

I think your girlcock filling my titpussy with hot, sticky cum over and over again until I'm reduced to just a pair of sloshing, jiggling udders would fix me.

I think my huge, 32N tits being turned into a sex toy for you to use whenever you needed to get off to the point where the rest of me doesn't matter at all, just the sheer size and softness of my tits and how fucking good it feels for you to be buried between them, the Plap! Plap! Plap! of your hips slamming against them hypnotizing me deeper into losing all sense of identity and self until I'm just a pair of fucking tits would absolutely fucking fix me.

this ask has been in my inbox for so long because every time I try to respond to it I get so turned on I cum before I can even start typing anything

anyway please let me fix you, please, please, please

[say-hi-intrepid-heroes]

okay i've posted a bunch of political stuff (and that is important, especially the stuff that pertains to queer people staying alive and fighting) but by and large i'm going to move back to d20 content rn. i think it's important to focus on the things we love and take joy in. i'll still reblog the occasional political thing but overall im going to try to do what i usually do and allow my blog to be a brief reprieve from the shitshow outside.

[uter-us]

same goes for: "i'm into unstable girls" or "bipolar bitches" or "mentally ill females"