#plot?

[theonceandfuturequeenoftarts]

So. To anyone who reads VII/A long, hard road, I'm looking for opinions.

Would you be disappointed if there was a spicy chapter?

[frogwithastrawberry]

Danny Phantom headcanons I just thought of!

For starters: Not really a headcanon, but I love it when people write Danny using astronomy related nicknames for his partners. It makes the brain worms happy

-All ghosts have a specific weakness tied to when they died. It is HIGHLY frowned upon to knowingly use this against someone. Like, they can recover from it, but not easily

-this weakness is especially prominent in Halfas

-Out of the three Halfas, Danny is the only one who really has the weakness. Since the weakness is based on Death, he's the only one it really applies to?

-Vlad died slowly over time due to one event of mass exposure to ectoplasm, which I'm saying seeped into an open sore like acne in his face, and then replicated said acne. While the original case healed, the ectoplasm was in his bloodstream, and since he was fully alive it was slowly over time taking over his bloodcells, until eventually one day he, just found himself with enough of it that he was able to use ghost powers, and then the ectoplasm recognized him as a ghost and stopped harming him

-Dani was never really fully alive. She has a slight weakness to electricity as residue from Danny, but it's barely more than how one would normally react to being shocked

-For Danny though, the electric shock from the portal killed him, and the Lichtenberg scars that were formed as a result counted as enough of an open wound the ectoplasm started seeping in. Since the ectoplasm crept into the scar of what killed him though, he has a weakness to electricity

-this does also mean that if someone were to die by a fire, the ectoplasm would go into burn scars. They die by bleeding out though? Well, being stabbed was going to be a weakness anyways. Someone dies by drowning, the ectoplasm takes over the lungs, since they went out of commission, etc.

-TLDR: Ectoplasm works by taking over blood cells. Souls don't have those, so they just become fully ectoplasmic beings, AKA ghosts. Live people have blood cells, and the ectoplasm seeps into whatever open scars may exist until it occupies 50-75% of the bloodstream, making you recognizable as a ghost, and a halfa.

-BONUS FOR IF YOU WANT DC IN HERE!

-the reason Jason has pit madness is because the pit is ectoplasm (as most have agreed on) and since he was a corpse, the ectoplasm wasn't sure where to go. He didn't have any pumping blood for it to take it over, and so it settled in as his nervous system. But then the ACTUAL nervous system and blood vessels started working, and they're doing they're best to push out the mysterious entity, but the ectoplasm is sentient, and therefore trying to stay. (It's losing)

-this does mean that in my headcanon Jason can either become the fourth halfa, or become fully human again, depending on if the ectoplasm keeps fighting, or if he meets Danny who teaches him to control it

-side note: If he were to become fully human again he'd likely have a shorter lifespan since his body would be used to having assistance against things like injuries or poisons and wouldn't be able to learn how to heal fully by itself again fast enough to save him.

[determined-wolfworm]

A frog named Wolf: Origin

🐺: “ …ribbit”

[oswednesday]

hey isnt the virtupets area more populated with neopets?

[buginateacup]

for the fic asks: 8, 19, 27? :)

8. Share the last line that you wrote

Come to think of it, he mused as he clamped a cigar between his teeth, a little company wouldn't go astray to celebrate all this fine bounty.

(this Tea with Topsy chapter is FIGHTING me. I'm restarting the whole scene from scratch)

19. What headcanon do you always include in your stories?

If it's my Megamind fics, it's always that Damsel in Distress is a codified and formal position just as much as Hero or Supervillain. I have a lot of fun playing with the worldbuilding of how a society reacts to having a designated victim. One who is both the automatic hook for the hero and also if there is ever a choice between saving a whole city or the person the hero nominally loves, they must always be the sacrifice. To go in knowing this, and still making that choice, what kind of person does that? But they can't just be a passive party, they have to keep the villain's attention to buy the hero time, it's the only kind of agency they're allowed.

27. Which fic do you think is your most adventurous?

Ooooh interesting! I feel like Run had the best worldbuilding, and also ended on a note of great change. Anything where I get to make characters less likeable and more ruthless is always interesting.

Thanks for the ask!

[miscmagpie]

Burrow's End was incredible. Aabria is a fuckin wizard.

[traditional-with-a-twist]

li. Beauty and Her Beast

<<Previous || first arc || second arc || third arc || AO3 || Next>>

Torou rises from her seat and passes so near that Obi feels the heat from her body.

Pausing with her back to him, she looks over her shoulder. The robe has slipped down to show the warm curve of her skin.

She holds his gaze as she reaches out and pushes the door shut behind him.

...

At different stages in her career, Torou has both posed and worked as a street dancer. Flashing skirts and whirling ribbons will tempt gold coins in many quarters, or draw unwary eyes away from a partner slipping through a door that ought to have been locked.

Her costume is more muted, but she is dancing now: a lithe, teasing display.

He can see that she is enjoying every step.

...

Torou turns to face him, leaning against the doorframe. One eyebrow arches inquiringly.

She has set the stage. 

Now it is his turn to act.

...

'Hey, Torou…’ he says, answering her unspoken question with a tone of mock confusion, ‘you would have any man, wouldn't you?' 

'Not at all!’ She lifted her nose, answering him with haughtiness. 

A sly smile disrupts the aristocratic air when she adds, ‘He would have to be good-looking.' 

...

Obi half-smiles. She had a tongue like a knife, this one, and she used both willingly.

‘Is that so?’ he asks softly.

Instead of answering, she melts back into the wood, tipping back her head to expose her neck and regarding him from under her lashes.

Obi steps into the space she has opened between them, accepting the invitation. He stands looking down on her.

She is all curves and coy smile, tempting as a ripe peach.

...

He sets a hand on the wall beside Torou's face, studying her with that now habitual flatness in his slanted eyes.

Could she drive out the ghosts for him? 

Could she free him from the unrelenting pain of memory, of regret?

...

She has done it for many men before him, he is sure of that.

The solitary room, the flickering candlelight, the musky scent perfuming the air, all attest to her skill.

She has waited for him, welcomed him in, even spared him the trouble of walking across the room to her.

...

Obi is a step from losing himself in her arms, drowning out conscience in animal instinct, surrendering his will to sensation.

His body is bruised, aching; his soul even more so — everything in him cries out for relief from the awful pain that dogs him everywhere.

Why hesitate? Thinking comes sluggishly, this late at night, after not enough sleep, too much drink.

...

There is something inevitable in it, in his finding a familiar face here — someone who knows him and yet expects nothing, would not begrudge him a mercenary exchange, would think no less of him for using her and letting her use him.

She is ready to devour him, and he wants her to do it. 

He wants anything but to endure another night of emptiness, another hour of facing his failure, another moment of knowing himself worse than useless to the one he had cherished most.

...

Torou watches him with that hungry curiosity of her half-wild nature. She likes the uncertainty, he knows, relishes the suspense.

Obi pauses on the brink, the possibility of oblivion yawning before him, and then he leans in.

Her lips part.

A breath away from closing the kiss, he turns aside. 

Torou’s questing lips meet only air; Obi’s forehead thuds against the wall.

...

It is worse, not better.

...

Somewhere in a dusty archive, locked away in the castle vaults, lies a paper with two names scratched out in ink.

Nothing remains on his person of their vows to each other — no ring, no token, not even a mark like the one he bears for the late master.

There is nothing to see or touch, yet the owner of that name has marked him more deeply than flesh, than blood, than bone. 

...

He has wronged her in most ways imaginable, but not this one.

She might have been standing right behind him, looking over his shoulder with the look of solemn compassion she wore when in the presence of something despicable.

The closer he came to another woman, the nearer he felt her.

...

Her voice has been weaving through his thoughts, plaguing his dreams, but just now she might have whispered in his ear.

The roughness of the wood, the brush of Torou’s loose hair against his skin — it all feels insubstantial as mist compared with the sense that she might be a moment from laying her hand on his arm.

Even the heady perfumes have somehow faded; all he can smell is that unmistakable mix of fragrance and medicine, flowers and earth. 

He could almost taste her.

Obi’s body slumps, folding in on itself, as the tension drains out of him. Inside there is nothing but a bleak and blighted waste.

...

Torou’s shoulders quiver. She makes a sound, low in her throat.

Obi jerks back, eyeing her warily.

She shrugs at him, grinning. “Can’t blame a girl for being curious.”

...

No sign of offended feeling or even irritation shows; she regards him not with hostility but a nonchalance bordering on amusement.

“You’re not even surprised,” Obi accuses her.

She shakes her head, grin widening.

...

He drags a hand down his face, searching for a well of anger to draw on, to show some resentment that she has played him like a fish that she always meant to throw back into the pool.

He finds only exhaustion.

Coming here had been pointless, like everything else.

...

“Going so soon?” her mocking voice follows him, as he crosses the room in a bound. Obi doesn’t pause on the windowsill. 

He doesn’t look back.

Throwing up the glass, he releases himself into the night and lets the darkness swallow him, for what little relief it brings.

*****

Torou straightens and stands with her arms akimbo, frowning after him. 

She had rolled the dice to see how they would land, not to win — but she couldn’t call herself satisfied.

The reports had not overstated the case. 

He was half-mad and running amok. All her tricks had barely slowed him down for less than a night.

...

Torou walked to the dressing table and began pulling the sleeves, shifts, pads, and skirts of her usual costume from the drawers, attiring herself in a more practical sort of a battledress.

She pursed her lips as she worked, weighing her training against her inclination.

There was no money in following Obi — clearly, he would be no good for a job, even. That made it a waste of resources.

She knew that, yet still she found herself wanting to.

...

Tugging her own laces tight, in a show of strength and flexibility that would have impressed a circus performer, Torou turned from the mirror.

She has always liked Obi, but it is not just nostalgia for old times making her restless in the wake of their encounter.

The night before, while sniffing out Obi’s trail, she had encountered a rumor. 

Someone dangerous was on the loose, it was whispered — someone who had a bone to pick with the royals of Tanbarun and Clarines.

...

She had thought it meant Obi. He was dangerous; he had crossed swords with one or even two princes, if the gossip could be believed.

After seeing him tonight, though, she wondered.

No one could mistake a man like that, crazed with his own memories, for a hunter questing revenge.

...

If not Obi, then who?

[rrxnjun]

just in case you were wondering how my writing is going

[just-a-creep-babe]

I have a ideas hobo heart going feral for yn and my another idea is Ej hearing’s about the same a cult that sacrificed him is active again. He has yn as friend they get taken by the cult. Yn is halfway through the sacrifice thing when Ej comes to save them.

But with it being half done yn is half demon and their human half is fight with it. So they are try to deal with this and starts to see Ej more then a friend over time . ( you can spice it up if you want.)

Golly I should really write more hobo heart, poor boy hardly gets any love ironically enough 🥲

And!! I’ve definitely thought of a few similar fic ideas where the reader is a hybrid like jack 👀

I’ve really been enjoying writing something longer with more plot so maybe I’ll just always have a longer story going up on my page 👀👀

[ask-vio-the-purple-link]

That sounds awful. I wont ask you what happened to Red, but how did Blue take you back?

Lowering his hood Vio looks up at the Tower of Winds once crumbling, now in strangely pristine condition. Heart beating in his chest he tries to calm down speaking with a wavering voice.

" He found me while I was running from Vaati's minions a few days after I escaped. I was...I was afraid he'd be angry at me, but instead of that Blue...Blue took me to his hotel room. Even though he got hurt because of it, he helped me. We talked things out, until my emotions caught up and I started crying...."

[spritehouse]

me writing (i have never actually plotted a story before writing it in my life):

[brenheir]

plot  ,,,,

[sp0-t]

💿: Ahhhhhhhhhh!!! I love this! So many ideas!!! All credit to this amazing artist for this work and idea that popped in my head just now!!!

!!!!!!!!!!!!! - this does include discrimination,

aka. men just being dicks! (also terribly written accents)

(please if you are not in the headspace to handle rude comments, please, please, please, take time to yourself❤️!!)

Lieutenant Simon “Ghost” Riley, who was given the task of training (scaring) the new recruits into shape.

Lt. Ghost, who was given the task with his second in command. The person he can depend on to get the recruits in shape. Ghost who takes half of the large group and you the other.

Second Lt. in command, who decides to make the whole group do planks for someone’s mistake of acting smart with them.

However two recruits refuse to get on the ground and do it, refuse to listen, and make snarky rude comments at their second in command lieutenant

“God why would we listen to someone like you of all people, you probably a slag who slept your way to be a Lieutenant!”

“Wouldn’t be surprised if they slept with the big guy over there.”

“God we tower over you as is, how the ‘ell you survive in the field. Small lil’ thing aren’t ya!?”

Second Lt., who stands their ground knowing damn well they’re not going to let some punk recruits puff out their chests and stick their nose to the sky.

One of the recruits makes the dastardly mistake to try and reach out and place a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

Second Lt. who absolutely humiliates one of the recruits by grabbing his wrist and placing it so far up his back he feels it might snap. Second Lt. who kicks the recruits knees in, forcing him to fall flat. 2nd Lt. who puts all their weight to keep him down.

Lt. Ghost who starts rushing over at the sound of commotion, and the sight of a crowd forming.

The other disrespectful recruit who try’s to begin to help his friend. The other recruit who’s about to take a step forward when he’s suddenly spun around by a stern boom of a voice.

“OI! The ‘el you think you doing!?”

The other recruit who is met with the sight of Lt. Ghost, stomping his way towards him looking as if he’s about to snap someone in half (art at start ⬆️). The recruit who looks like he’s about to piss himself looking between ghost and you.

Lt. Ghost who eventually turns to you after staring down the pathetic recruit in front of him.

“What happened?”

Lt., whose voice seems to be softer with you?…

“Some recruits thought they were above a punishment, also thought it was smart to disrespect their 2nd in command lieutenant.”

“Get up!”

2nd Lt. who yanks up the recruit to his feet

“I’ll deal with these two”

Lieutenant Ghost states as he mad dogs the both of the pathetic looking recruits in front of him.

Fast forward to lunch, the rest of the recruits had gotten the remainder of the day off. There you are sitting at the table with your fellow tf141 members when all of a sudden you see it.

Ghost walking in with the two recruits, firm hands on one of each of their shoulders… and they’re walking right towards your table

“Damn lad/lass, what’d you do to get them looking so shell shock.”

They approach the table, the whole dinning hall quieting just a bit.

“Kneel”

Both soldiers fall to their knees, right in front of you.

“Say it.”

They both hesitate for a second to long for ghosts liking.

“Say. It.”

“We apologize, it’ll never happen again.”

They say while looking down to somehow make the situation less uncomfortable.

“You’re forgiven” (💿:personally, I wouldn’t have!)

“Get up and get lunch.”

“Jeez, remind me not to mess with you lass/lad.”

💿: This ran on way longer than I thought it would! The ideas just kept coming!!! All credit to @whiplashrogue for the amazing art!! I thank you for the inspiration ���

(Also this work can be received as romantic or platonic, bye bye lovelies ❤️)

written by: @sp0-t ©️

Twitter art dump! A Big angy boy

[asteroidtroglodyte]

[lgbtlunaverse]

The world exists in such a baffling state of simultaneous sex-aversion and sex-hegemony. Every social platform on the internet is trying to banish sex workers to the shadow realm but I can't post a tweet without at least two bots replying P U S S Y I N B I O. People are self-censoring sex to seggs and $3× but every other ad you see is still filled with half-naked women. Rightwingers want queer people arrested for so much as existing in the same postal code as a child and are also drumming up a moral panic about how teenage boys aren't getting laid enough. I feel like I'm losing my mind.