#ride AND die au

[pipedreame]

Ride AND Die AU

(Danny Phantom DanDash Prompt #1)

AU in which Dash has been part of the squad since third grade and goes into the portal with Danny (as a show of solidarity against Tucker and Sam’s annoying nagging) and they both come out half-dead. There are now TWO ghost boys running around Amity Park.

With a heaping load of angst: Danny for letting Dash go with him into one of his parents’ malfunctioning contraptions and Dash for accidentally tripping Danny and making the damned thing turn on in the first place and of course Sam and Tuck for egging them on and resulting in their two best friends dying and not to even mention the fact that Danny’s parents now want to hunt them both for sport and disect them in the name of science

But also a healthy load of fun and fluff: the boys learning how to use their powers together, increasingly absurd excuses to get out of classes/events to go fight ghosts, and a super fun and convenient mind and/or physical link caused by the two being in such close proximity during the accident (they were totally hugging, but who can blame them, really)

Sam: Guys I think the term is ‘Ride OR Die’ not ‘Ride AND Die’

Dash: Well maybe we’re just more serious about this friendship than you are, Manson

Danny: Yeah, Sam, we’re deadly serious. Get on our level

Tucker: I feel like two dead friends is enough actually

Dash: You’re right, two’s a party but three’s a crowd

Sam: What’s four, then?

Danny: A funeral procession

[endereies]

-➤ Matt fucks the attitude out of you on the bonnet of his car

“You think you’re so fucking slick, don’t you, angel.” His grip on your hip wasn’t as tender as when he originally spoke. The sarcasm seeped eagerly into dulcet voice. It was unfair how it made you just that bit weaker.

“Hm? M’not sure what you’re talking about. I’ve done nothing to ya or for ya.” Your body slipped from his vice to lean against his freshly cleaned car. Your ass pressed firmly against the shiny metal; the cold feeling was expected but you still hitched at the feeling. The skin was barely covered by your miniskirt that showed off your panties proudly. Blue. You made sure of that.

“You just love to fucking play dumb. S’cute how you think that’ll work…” Matt’s eyes roll back as he clicks his tongue, an action that was all too familiar. His whole body straightens up and the sass disappears for a moment, dragging your wrist to his chest. When his gaze flickers to your lips your body inches forward only for it to be spun and pressed against his vehicle. Blue arrays were all you could see before Matt lifted your head to make eye contact through the reflection. The smirk that was visible gave your body a layer of goose bumps.

“How about we just shut up? Sound good, angel?” You were too stunned to muster anything but a whimper, causing Matt to chuckle under his breath. “Pathetic. All bark, no bite.”

Both his hands slithered down your sides, forcing his hands under the soft white fabric. The seams of your bra were barely caressed before being ignored completely, focusing on what he really wanted.

With your hips shown off to him, he couldn’t help but stare at what you presented to him. The warmth trailed back down your sides before confidently manoeuvring around your thighs. Matt knew what he was doing. “Don’t tease.” He chuckles lowly once more, snickering at your attempt to take charge of the situation.

“So you can wander around the tracks, practically flashing anyone that gave you attention, but can’t wait five minutes?” He hummed disapprovingly “Desperation is not a good look on you.” Every tone stemmed from his chest, covered in faux sweetness.

Before you could defend yourself, his fingers applied pressure to your clothed cunt. Stroking up and down, he was barely stimulating you. It was just enough for him to have time to speak more. “This attitude has got to go, and I think I know just the remedy for that”

Only for a moment, the contact you two shared had disappeared, forcing you to chase it with your hips. But once his fingers hooked into your panties, he dragged them down your thighs before letting gravity do the work. “Now, think you can behave for me now?”

You eagerly nodded as his fingers traced your core directly now. No notice was given to you before Matt decided to insert one finger inside of you. The sudden contact made you clench around his finger that had started to pump slowly. The amount of build-up had caused enough slick to be produced so that he heard the quiet squelches of your pussy. “Hm, so wet already, huh?”

Using his free hand, your body was arched towards his chest leaving your palms as the only support for your body. The grip on your neck wasn’t strong nor was he actually restricting your flow of air. This was all a point to prove that he was still in control. Pulling his finger all the way out, he adjusted a second finger before adding that inside your core. You had grown to the routine but he managed to surprise you with a quick scissor motion. When your jaw goes slack from the motion, you find his smile in the reflection of the car, intensifying when he saw your reaction.

A soft moan passed your lips as he brought his thumb to brush over your clit. He groaned at the feeling of you clench around his fingers as you enveloped them. The pleasure eased your lower body as made you crave the satisfaction that was barely out of your reach. It was slow and tedious. Methodical. The slight grinding of your pelvis was immediately ceased by the tighter hold on your neck, causing you to shudder.

“Every time you do that, I’ll go slower” There was no room for misunderstanding, not when you knew Matt could leave you high and dry over the bonnet of his own car. “M’sorry”

“Oh? An apology… You really are something, angel?” His pace increases further, giving you that strong and steady pace you needed. Occasionally, Matt would curl his fingers deeper, pressing hard against your clit. The pleasure made your thighs shake, a feeling Matt would never get over, no matter how many times he did it.

He tugged a little harder on your throat, forcing your body to give him more access to what he wanted. Your walls fluttered around his fingers, and he brought in a third to speed up the process. “Ma- Matt. I’m close, please…”

“I know, you just can’t help yourself, can you?” Your head shook rapidly at his words, too focused on the feeling between your legs to care about responding. “Let go when you’re ready, yeah?”

Both your eyes clamped shut as the feeling only intensified. Your body snaps as you clench heavily, causing fiction against your walls. A loud moan, almost a whimper, passes through your lips as you reach your high. “Matt-!”

Matt’s fingers didn’t change pace until you rode out your high and when your body spasmed, he knew to draw his fingers out. He admired the glistening arousal that coated him, pushing them in front of your mouth. You got the message quickly and opened your mouth, the sudden intrusion catching you off guard. “Yeahhh, clean up your mess, m’kay?”

Your tongue sucked off the slick from his fingers and released them with a slight pop. Expectantly, you looked back at Matt, expecting his touch to return soon.

“Oh no. You really think you deserve that after what you did?” You wanted to whine at his statement, but you knew better to complain, so you resorted for the next best option.

“Prick.”

@melliflws @yuhayeee @st7rnioioss @sturn-bugz @bueckers @worldlxvlys @raysmayhem-72 @patscorner @y0urm4m @bernardsbendystraws @junnniiieee07 @luverboychris @jnkvivi @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @shorthairchris @colorthecosmos444 @anabethinking @anyaa2s @emilyfaith2003 @zariyamitchell-blog @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @sturniolosiphone @slutf4rmatt @flouvela @lovesturni0l0s @2prcntmilkluvr @itsmaddielouis @angelicameron

© ENDEREIES 2024

[caycanteven]

You've been caught~ Pose idea thanks to @aylish91! This guy lives rent free in my head ya'll.

[moonsnqil]

aftg au where andrew is a burnt out musician who's sick and tired of writing/playing shitty music bc his label says it sells better. he meets one deaf neil josten at some no-name pub on the east coast. he's a little mesmerized by the way neils hair catches in the bar lights and how his eyes track the woman playing bass on stage. andrew offers to buy him a drink and then he offers to blow him. it's a no but at first neil looked at him confused and andrews about to start wondering how someone who looks like that would be confused about an offer like that but then neil asks him to write his question down. he does. (there's something humbling about writing a proposition down). neil says no but they trade notes back and forth until the line of indie artists waiting their turn for the stage dwindled into nothing. the last thing andrew writes is his phone number. they talk, well, they text. neil doesn't know him, not the way magazine covers and top 40 radio hits know him. to neil, andrew minyard is just a guy that plays the drums and occasionally writes lyrics. one day, when he asks why neil loves watching him play his drums so much, why he goes to indie night at the pub when he can't hear the words they sing, neil tells him that he likes the thumping in the ground. it steadies him, calms him down as if his ear was pressed to someone's heart. he likes the way the artists lose themselves to their music in a way so obvious. its with neil peering into andrew's grand piano, his eyes watching the hammers pop, that he remembers why he started making music in the first place and for the first time in months he actually wants to compose something

[morganbritton132]

Even more Steve Has Older Siblings AU add-ons:

1. Steve wanted to be a ninja so bad when he was little but Hawkins didn’t have any martial arts classes he could take. Jason offered to ‘teach’ him. This was just an excuse to throw him around a bit but they had to stop when he accidentally dislocated Steve’s elbow two weeks before basketball tryouts.

2. Anytime his dad decided to be a good father, he’d send Steve to his grandparents for the weekend that the other kids were at their house and then do activities with them. Steve didn’t mind this at the time because Grandpa Otis told him cool stories about the war, but when he got older he realized that it was a really fucked up thing to do.

3. Steve thinks that Richie is spearheading fixing their relationship because his own kids live in a different state now, but it’s actually because Will Byers went missing. He called the house six times in between Will going missing and being found, and no one picked up the phone once. It genuinely scared him, especially because he heard their dad bitch about Barb going missing at their house. Steve was mainly screening the calls but for one of them, he was fighting a monster.

4. Carol fucking hates Steve’s siblings so much. She used to cut tiny holes in their bedsheets with fingernail clippers when she’d come over on the weeks that they weren’t there. Later when she worked the summer at the movie theater, she’d spit in their drinks.

5. The first time Steve’s siblings meet Eddie Munson (sans Richie) is after the murder charges are dropped. It’s also in the middle of a forced family dinner. They’re all sitting there awkwardly and then heard the door fling open, and Eddie shout out as he moved through the house, “Harrrrrington, let’s go! I’ve got beer in the cooler and a lunchbox full of - bibles. Hi!” Steve’s out of his chair and dragging Eddie back out the house like, “Sorry, gotta go. To church. Bye mama, love you. Bye.” Eddie is crackling the entire time and Steve comes home the next morning smelling like weed and a good time, and is promptly handed a cup to go piss in. Jason takes the drug test for him. Fails it.

[silence-ofthe-llamas]

More Mech Au-Au!

Swindle-orientated chapter, with sprinkles of TexAid.

Swindle smiled at everyone.

He smiled at those he was happy with, he smiled at those who had pissed him off, he smiled at those he was making deals with, the list was endless.

The only time he didn’t smile was when he was on his own. The door would click closed behind him, the lock automatically engaging, and the facade would slide from his face.

This all had to be worth it. It had to. He’d risked so much already, he was gambling at stakes he couldn’t pay. Failure would mean death, death for all five of them, and as such, failure was unacceptable.

He’d promised Onslaught.

Vortex was a source of pride for him - a prototype mech who had survived against all odds, plumping up his resume handsomely. The only surviving AI from that round and the round that came after - against all odds, Vortex had persisted. He hadn’t self destructed like his own cohort had, he hadn’t lost his sense of reality, he didn’t completely lose himself. He remained exactly who he was, for better or for worse. The discussions of destroying him once he’d begun to show his more aggressive tendencies were terrifying, sending Swindle scrambling for ways to extract Vortex from the mech. They didn’t get this far just to be treated like they were disposable. Had they forgotten that they were real people they’d trapped within the metal? What did it matter that they were slated to die anyway? That didn’t mean they could just be destroyed when they became inconvenient, there was supposed to be a due process. They were owed that much.

Swindle hung up his hat and ran his hand through his hair. Fuck. They’d gotten so lucky with that boy – Felix, right? That was his name, and Swindle has a vague recollection of his name meaning luck. Good for them that he lived up to it – they were lucky that he was persistent and determined, lucky that Vortex seemed to like him. His teammate liked to play with his food, and it seemed he was settling in to give First Aid a good long chew. Which was good! It meant Vortex was unknowingly buying himself some more time whilst he looked for ways to extract him and put him in something else. Anything else would do at this point - shit, he could be his toaster and burn his toast for eternity. At least he’d still be alive and he wouldn’t be left alone again.

Shit. How depressing. How did this become their only option?

Swindle kicked off his shoes, neatly placing them away onto the rack, and shrugged off his jacket

“I want to make them burn in hell.”

He’d done it because he had to. He took no pleasure in what happened to his team after he gave the wrong people the right intel - but it was this, or they’d all be dead. Like, dead-in-the-ground-dead. Skullfucked by maggots dead. Not on ice, not in giant suits of armour with guns and swords bigger than buildings, dead. Dead and forgotten, and it would be all five of them. Nobody alive to fight in their corner, nobody to keep them as safe as they could, nobody to do what needed to be done.

The screams didn’t haunt him like they used to. While they were still alive, skulking around the research centre with tags and monitors and cables and cameras on them at all times, people did terrible things to them. Trepan was the most frightening. He was enraptured with the idea of creating super soldiers. That’s what they’d tried at first - they’d needed warm, fresh, and living bodies - and who would notice if a mercenary group went missing? Everyone would just assume that they had died, and that would be that. They wouldn’t even look for their corpses.

Vortex had been the most difficult one for them to deal with. He was rude, unruly, and dished back what he was given. At one point they’d had to strap him down Hannibal style just to give him his injections - after they’d removed his prosthetic arm when he’d slashed through the restraints and three researchers with the hidden blade, he’d taken to biting down hard enough to rip chunks of flesh from the researchers instead. Vortex would laugh through the blood that dripped down his chin, but he’d always ended up screaming.

Brawl was freakishly quiet. He would press his palms to his temples, his eyes dull and face gaunt. Swindle would never admit how it made his insides churn, how guilt had ravaged him into sleepless nights. They all screamed, they all cried through the agony of it, but it was the worst when they were quiet. His team wasn’t meant to be quiet. They were always doing something, saying something. Vortex was always pissing off Blast Off, winding him up like a younger sibling did to an older one. Brawl was always playing music far too loud in his headphones. Onslaught was much quieter, but he was his own kind of orchestra of sound. A gun being cleaned, turning pages, the squeak of leather.

They weren’t in the research facility. They were shadows of themselves.

Onslaught had always given Swindle his looks though. No blame. No fault given. Thankful. They’d made a promise, after all. They’d agreed that this was what they would do, how it would happen. Anything that gave them longer to figure out what the fuck they were going to do.

The experiments were a failure. All it gave them were broken men. But that only gave them perfectly usable test subjects for something else, for another failing project.

Trepan had asked Swindle personally who he would volunteer as their first test subject. Who did he think had the best chance of success? Who did he think would make the best immortal warrior?

The cockroach, he’d replied. Vortex was fucking impossible to kill. He’d seen him getting himself blown up multiple times. He’d had to pay to fix his face, he’d had to pay to fix his spine, he’d had to pay for that damn prosthetic and every single hospital stay to stitch him back together. And not once had the man been touched by death. If a nuclear bomb were to fall on them, he was convinced Vortex would emerge unscathed and demanding a cigarette.

He was also extremely resistant to control. He despised being told what to do. Onslaught was an exception because he had actually made an effort to build a rapport with him, it was a relationship built on mutual respect and understanding. And Trepan? Every single scientist in this building? Vortex would rend them to dust and ash if they even entertained the thought of controlling him.

It was a hopeful moment, a glimpse into an optimistic future. Vortex would lose his humanity, but they would all regain their freedom.

But good things didn’t favour terrible men.

Fuck, he wanted a cigarette.

The photoshoot with Blurr was overrunning. It was already eleven o’clock at night - they’d been at this since 10 in the morning, working hard to get their perfect shots. The photogenic mechanics (paid actors). The intelligent engineers (more paid actors). The trustworthy medics (yet more paid actors). Their only non-actor was Blurr, but even then he was just their show dog. He wasn’t actually a pilot, not in the traditional sense. He wasn’t deployed, he was paraded.

Blurr would want to talk after, to natter away about something or other, to get a drink together and maybe a bite to eat, but Swindle just wanted to go to bed. He was tired. Exhausted. Going into his teammates lockers to grab a photograph had just dug up old memories from where he’d buried them, and he’d woken up with Vortex’s screams in his native tongue ringing in his ears, unable to get back to sleep. He could still hear it between the sounds of the camera shutter.

First Aid seemed to be a nice enough kid. He got on well with others, he did his job without complaint, and he was efficient. He didn’t dally around when he was to clamber into Vortex, he was quick and to the point - and, Swindle noticed with growing curiosity, he studiously avoided touching his controls.

If only the pilots were smart enough to pick up on that. Shame, really. It was starting to get real expensive to keep this quiet.

So it was with quiet horror that he watched as First Aid was trapped within the cockpit, the medic accompanying him collapsing to the floor as blood spurted up the glass from where his leg used to be.

He found himself hissing through his teeth. Don’t do anything stupid, Tex!

When First Aid stumbled out looking like his first pilot he’d ever had did, Swindle felt a grim mood take over him. How hard was it to fucking behave? To not do something so unbelievably stupid? To not get himself killed? Apparently it was too much for Vortex to fucking control himself.

But First Aid had been okay. The next day he was as chipper and chirpy as ever with full recollection of the previous day. He’d thought it was funny.

And that’s when Swindle knew that the boy was their chance. If he could survive Vortex, if Vortex was allowing him to live, then they had to seize the opportunity they could.

Nobody listened. Nobody fucking listened. They were repatriating children in biohazard bags, not even a hand left intact for their loved ones to hold as they said goodbye, and they weren’t listening to him.

They needed Felix Anwyl in that mech. Now. He was sick of watching lambs being offered up for sacrifice. Vortex was a malicious bastard but even he would get bored of it all eventually - and from where Swindle was standing, he saw a much better chance of getting their brothers online if Vortex settled down and stopped acting like he was possessed by the devil.

Seeing Felix sprinting towards Vortex in a pilots suit that didn’t fit him, Swindle discretely cleared the way. He distracted the officers with him, had them avert their eyes for a second to let him pass. He redirected people, he gave distractions, he delayed who he could to buy First Aid much needed time to get to the mech before that cadet took a single step inside. Vortex would kill them for the intrusion, he’d explicitly had enough of it and was demanding what was his. His words in the morning memos were enough.

Swindle was out of options. He needed to get First Aid into that mech before they stamped the paperwork to render the supposed AI obsolete and for the scrap heap.

He didn’t have a toaster ready for him yet.

Prowl had looked thunderous on the catwalk. So had Pharma. He had to fight to keep his grin at bay - he had to press his hand to his lips to hide it when Vortex began yelling ‘mine’ through the walkie talkie.

Oh, he really liked this one.

Pharma had kicked up the biggest fuss. He didn’t want to lose his precious medic.

Swindle checked his file. First Aid hadn’t been on any major medical assignments since the previous year, and there was no record of why. No particular displeasures, no signs of any faults or major errors, any need to retrain, or competencies lapsing and requiring reassessment. Pharma had just decided to force First Aid away from his job in some bizarre, inexplicable act.

He’d grabbed him by the collar and hissed into his ear that the blood was on his hands. That if he wanted to keep First Aid, then he could be the one to clear the mech out, that he would be the one to write to the families and explain what had happened.

Pharma had opened his mouth and begun to say something about a punishment, but Swindle placed his finger to his lips and shook his head.

“It’s not on his record.” He reminded him, tapping the file. “Do you want to incriminate yourself? Right here?”

And so he’d received the stamp of approval that evening. The ink was still wet as he shook Pharmas hand, the man holding his too tightly.

First Aid seemed to like Vortex too.

Pilots didn’t usually go and hang out with their mechs. They liked to be near them – apparently there was something about the connection that had them bond in such a way that they liked to be close to them, that they’d feel drawn towards them, but First Aid’s seemed to be almost excessive. At every free opportunity, he was there. If you couldn’t find him, the advice was to check Vortex – he’d probably be in the cockpit reading a book or listening to music, or he’d be elbow deep cleaning out the joints from the gunk the clean up crew didn’t manage to get. If it was a meal time and he wasn’t in his room or in the cafeteria, he was with Vortex.

His secondary role on base was still, technically, a medic – but Pharma had made it clear that he wasn’t welcome back in the medical bay. He’d made his bed, so to speak – if he wanted to be a pilot, then he’d be one, but it was at the sacrifice of his oath to medicine, so he wasn’t allowed to perform it. He was left to spin his wheels, to attend training sessions when they could run them for him (it was an open secret that he wasn’t a pilot, but a secret it was) and scratch his arse until the alarm went off and he was marked for deployment.

Swindle didn’t know that Pharma could hold such a grudge. He’d made a mental note to never piss him off.

A few times, when Swindle couldn’t sleep and was on a walk, he’d seen First Aid slipping into Vortex. He’d raised his brows at that.

Swindle didn’t know how Vortex hadn’t squished him yet.

Vortex fell back into the Shatterdome, rain thundering down on his armour sounding like the roar of a passing train. Sparks erupted from the gaping hole where his shoulder used to be, two of his back blades torn free and the remaining hanging on by rapidly breaking cables. The mech fell to its knees, catching itself on its remaining arm, its visor flashing a single message over and over.

OBJECTIVE ONE: PROTECT THE PILOT.

For the first time, Vortex had obeyed the objective embedded into each of their mechs. Protect the pilot. More than that, he’d brought him straight back to them.

Swindle watched him in quiet awe.

Wow. He really liked this one.

When the radio had cut out in a roar of static, Swindle had half expected Vortex to stay out on the front and continue his slaughter like he usually did when his pilot died, but instead he watched as the red dot that symbolised Vortex on the screen instead turned around and began sprinting back to the Shatterdome, ignoring all of the targets around him, ignoring when a quintesson got a good hit on him, barrelling past the other deployed mechs. Mission Control received multiple communications from the other pilots out in the field, confused calls from the crews of the helicopters monitoring from above - Vortex wasn’t responding. Vortex was moving entirely independently - his pilot was unresponsive and his life signal was so weak it could easily have been the electricity from the cables exposed to the elements being detected instead.

His walkie talkie crackled as Vortex looked directly at the large room Mission Control sat in overlooking the hangar. A voice he hadn’t heard in years ground out.

“He dies, everyone dies.”

Swindle swallowed hard, and nodded.

“Tex?” The voice was weak and unrecognisable. Swindle realised it must have been Felix. He was alive and conscious enough to speak - Swindle was already waving off people trying to get permission to do things, motioning for them to just get fucking on with it.

“Get that pilot out!” He hissed at them.

“It’s going to be okay.” Vortex promised. Swindle didn’t know his voice could get so soft.

“Stay put, Tex. Don’t move a muscle and unlock your emergency escape, the medics are here.” Swindle spoke into the walkie talkie. He received a few weird looks from those around him, but he ignored them. He’d field their curiosities later - for now, he had to focus on keeping Felix alive and figuring out how they were going to safely contain Vortex.

Fuck. He wished Onslaught had been activated. He’d know what to do. For a brief moment he wished their positions were reversed. He’d have handled all this shit so much better. Swindle would never tell him or ever admit it, but Onslaught was always the brains of the unit, he always had a plan. He’d probably have had all of them activated by now, brought the whole team back together again.

He chewed his bottom lip until it bled, the taste of copper stinging on his tongue.

The medic had to live. He had to. There was no protecting Vortex if he went on a murder spree - they could just about justify the pilots being pulverised inside of him, the difference between the cost to spec up and build and test a mech that was his equal vs the cost to train a new pilot was extraordinary. Vortex could, in theory, chew through a few hundred more pilots before they’d start to wonder if they should have just built a new mech. But to destroy a whole base?

Yeah. No. It would be significantly more difficult to justify it as a misidentified ‘protect the pilot’ protocol. Sure, he could argue that the base failed to save his pilot, but how would the mech know? Why did the mech identify the Shatterdome as a target? Clearly it was faulty, glitched, and needed to go.

Vortex was not one to be reasoned with. Swindle knew that all too well. There wasn’t going to be the opportunity to talk him down from his decision.

They succeeded, or they failed. That was it. One or the other. Felix survived, or everyone died.

God, he prayed that Felix was as much of a cockroach as Vortex was.

[quesocheeso]

the whole affair baby situation genuinely cracks me up as someone whose a big fan of jttw and just sun wukong in general like. I know he did like a mountain of crimes but NEVER and i mean NEVER would he ever cheat on someone. how dare.

(jttw! dbk and pif chapter be like:)

Sun Wukong: I could excuse mass murder but I draw the line at adultery.

Tripitaka: You could excuse mass murder? :(

anyways. i love your comics <3<3<3 genuinely a highlight of my day i look forward to them always <3<3<3 i hope swk was on the verge of tears, crying and begging mac to believe him when the affair rumors started going around lol

ANON YOU GET IT LMAO HAVE A GOLD STAR⭐

This is so real and there's a bonus chapter for the first arc of TTM that is just Shadowpeach's reaction to PIF calling up Mac like "yo there's a kid here with SWK aura so...do we ride at dawn?" And SWK is like "BRO WHAT?? I WOULD NEVER!!"

We do get some healthy shadowpeach tho cause I can't resist y'know😌✨

[somereaderinblue]

Penelope: Okay guys, my Husband has just been kidnapped and taken away from me.

Ctimene: where are we going to find a soldier willing enough to help u-

*busts down door*

Diomedes: they did WHAT to Ody!?

- Zobody with a Z

HOW DARE THEY TAKE HIS BRO? WHO WILL SHITTALK OTHERS WITH HIM?? WHO'S GONNA MATCH HIS FREAK NOW???

THIS IS UNFORGIVABLE! OH THE INHUMANITY!

[edorazzi]

Page 13 of my Miraculous Mentor AU comic A Matter of Trust! In which Felix crawls home from what he thinks is a one-time magical assignment - but he's about to learn exactly what Plagg signed him up for! 😈

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[kaidatheghostdragon]

Dani x Jason Prompt

(Because i dont see enough of these two together. Also, this is another prompt i found in my fic files that i never did anything with.)

While Danny is in Amity Park protecting the ghost portal, Dani explores the world. Danny might be powerful enough to put down any threat, even Ancients, but she isn't as lucky. Her best defense against Vlad or the GIW is to never be in the same place two days in a row. Not to say she isn't powerful in her own right - she's yet to meet a ghost in her travels that she couldn't utterly crush, and even if she had, she's got the most loyal dog in both this world and the next to have her six.

Dani has discovered a great deal of beauty throughout the world in her few short years of life, but also unfathomable evil and undescribable corruption. She does what she can in every place she passes through, her ghost powers the ultimate cheat code for investigation and subterfuge, bringing to light the things that once hid in the dark.

But while scoping out yet another child trafficking ring, she crosses paths with a spirit of vengeance. At least, that's the only explanation she can come up with for how he's able to turn his shock and horror into pure rage at the flip of a dime.

Until she realizes that he's a baby halfa. If he doesn't learn how to mediate his emotions, he's going to burn out one of his halves.

Maybe she can help him stabilize into a proper spirit of justice and keep him from following the path that Vlad went down - oh shit, he doesn't even know that he's undead. Well, this is going to be a project and a half. But Dani is nothing if not resourceful - she's more than willing to put in the work if it means making an ally of the fourth known halfa.

Featuring:

Dani and jason are about the same age (16-17ish)

They run into each other during jason's LoA-sponsored world tour, investigating the same trafficking ring

Cujo is there too

Dani totally helps with the crime lord grand plan, but also wrestles jason down from the more messed up family drama stuff he did, like attacking tim, and knocks some sense into him and finds a better solution for dealing with the joker

[beneathtreemomo]

Names Amongst the Dead

I got another commission from @sakura-rose12 of Kit!!! Beautiful boy and 3/4ths of his qpr (plus also his eventual boyfriend. No, I will never make a straightforward relationship. It's too fun to make them deep and meaningful, unable to be explained through words. Law is the last fourth if you were curious lol, he just didn't fit in with the theme) Have a one-shot to go with it :D -----

Kit's back hit the wall hard, causing him to stumble from the awkward angle as his and Alvarus’ legs found purchase on the steps.

Cold metal pressed against his skin; Kit froze, making the wise decision not to move.

"Oh?" Kit asked, fighting the urge to tilt his head. "I thought we'd gotten past you pulling a sword on me."

“Highness…” Alvarus breathed, a shaky awe to it that never really went away.

It made Kit huff as he smiled down at the ex-knight. “Hi, Alva.”

Brilliant sapphire eyes melted, Alvarus' sharp-edged smile turning into something softer. The distance between them was already small; Kit could feel Alvarus’ breath against his skin, knew that if Penguin or Shachi caught sight of them, he'd never hear the end of their teasing.

“Are you well?” Alvarus asked, without fail.

“Better than ever.” Kit replies, always.

A beat passed as Alvarus’ gaze studied Kit. He always made sure Kit wasn't lying to him, especially after the one time Kit had genuinely tried, and Kit could never find it in him to be mad about it.

He sighed as he determined there was nothing amiss; Kit chuckled as Alvarus seemed to collapse against him, knocking their foreheads together.

“Stop worrying me, please,” Alvarus mumbled, rubbing his nose against Kit's. His body was warm, a comforting blanket against the chill of the winter island's sea. “You’re one of few things I have left from our home. I don't think I could handle watching your vivre card try to burn a second time.”

“I’ll do my best,” Kit said after a moment, feeling the sword drop away as Alvarus sunk into the embrace. “But I can’t make any promises. You know that.”

Now that he could properly move again, Kit lifted a hand to tangle it in Alvarus’ hair, fingernails lightly scratching at the base of his neck. He returned the nuzzle, pressing his cheek against Alvarus' before pushing back his hat with a gentle hand.

Alvarus' eyes closed as he leaned into the touch with a soft sigh. “Why must all of you Lagthas be so difficult?”

Kit chuckled, pressing his lips to Alvarus’ temple. “Runs in the blood, I’m afraid.”

----

“Hey, Sabo, I—whoa!!”

As soon as Kit stepped foot into the room Sabo had chosen during their stay, a hand had wrapped around his wrist and yanked him inside.

The door was shut with a muted thud, though Kit barely managed to notice as he was slammed into the wall just next to it.

“You!”

For a moment, all Kit could see was Sabo’s jacket and the frills of his cravat. Then Sabo leaned down, caging Kit in, and his eyes were like fire.

Kit’s heart skipped a beat, unease settling low in his gut.  “…Me?”

“Were you ever going to tell us?” Sabo asked, voice low. “About who you really are?”

The unease turned into lead, sinking and pulling Kit down with it. “This is who I really am.”

“Liar,” He hissed, leaning in closer. Kit felt rather than saw Sabo’s hand moving, and with a jump he raised his hands between them to try and placate the fuming man. “I know that you’re a prince!”

Shit. He’d been afraid of that answer, even though he’d expected it. Kit really should start to know better.

“Well, sure, but—"

“Is this just a joke to you?” Sabo asked, hand pressing just enough into Kit’s side to keep him pinned. Something slipped in his voice, cracking and splintering with the confirmation his findings had been right; Kit hadn’t looked away from Sabo’s gaze at all, but only now could he see the grief and panic at the edges of his eyes.

Kit’s heart sank. “What? Sabo, no. Why would I be joking about any of this?”

“Because that’s what all nobles do in situations like this,” Sabo hissed, lips curling into a snarl. “Lie and trick us, just to hurt us behind our backs.”

“I’m not lying!”

“Then why didn’t you tell us?! If you hurt my brothers the way you hurt your people, Prince, I swear—”

Tears pricked Kit’s eyes at the low blow, heart hurting like he’d been stabbed. He shoved Sabo away and was, admittedly, a little shocked that Sabo let him. “What the fuck is your problem?!” He shouted. He knew it was too quick of a flip, but he'd thought Sabo of all people would understand, and instead he was being accused of wanting to hurt his friends.

Sabo merely stared at him, hands clenched into fists at his sides. Kit didn’t move away from the wall, but now it was his turn to snarl at Sabo. “Look in the goddamn mirror! You’re a nobleman from birth, too!”

“Watch what you say next.” The harshness in Sabo’s voice sent a shock of fear down Kit’s spine, but he didn’t stop.

“Oh, don’t be such a hypocrite.” Kit snapped back, standing tall even as Sabo’s glare sharpened back into something dangerous. “I’d already run by the time the kingdom fell; your research showed this, I know it did. Everyone knows Prince Rori disappeared three years prior."

He scoffed, feeling words he didn't want to admit spill from his mouth without his say. “What, would I be in your good graces if I had stayed to be Haesgard’s toy? Or gone back to be a lamb to the slaughter the second I caught wind of Valstasia’s fall? Forgive me for doing what my mother and Lavi sacrificed themselves for.”

He didn’t notice the way Sabo’s anger faltered as he spoke, eyes growing wide with dread as the implications of things not even the Revolutionaries would have found out slipped from Kit’s lips.

“I thought we were friends,” Kit continued, glaring at Sabo through watering eyes. “You said you trusted me because Ace and Luffy trusted me. Didn’t realize it was so easy to lose, too.”

Fed up with the conversation—annoyed because he’d actually been excited to see Sabo during this mission of his, only for it to turn into this mess of a shouting match—Kit shouldered his way past Sabo to the door.

“I’m not like those nobles you grew up hating. Don’t talk to me again until you figure that out.”

Sabo stared at the door, almost wishing Kit had slammed it shut. It would make it easier to dispel the anger still thrumming in his veins, maybe even get rid of the guilt that started settling in his chest.

That… wasn’t what he expected to happen.

Looking back, it should have been.

He scrubbed a hand over his face, fingers lingering on his scar. “Shit... I just messed up, didn't I?”

....He really should have known better.

---

Kit headed back to his room, a slight skip in his step. He’d managed to convince Law to lay down and nap, finally, and Cora had promised to keep him there until their captain could form coherent sentences again. Tang had surfaced for a while, as well, to let in some much needed fresh air and get the crew some sun.

Mostly, Kit was just glad they were headed away from Wano, and he could spend one more day not thinking about the situation looming over his shoulders.

Except, now he was thinking about it. Dammit.

His steps slowed. It… was okay to wait a few more days, right?

It was too nice a day to think about existential dread, and he didn’t want to worry Law when he woke. After that whole mess of an island, none of the crew needed to worry about him and his decades-old problem. It had waited this long—it could wait a little more.

But there had been that letter….

“Hey, Kit, what’s got you all broody?”

Kit startled, a tiny little yelp managing to leave his lips before he shut it down just as fast as he looked up.

Ace stood there across from him, hands in his pockets and an easy smile on his face. “Cat got your tongue?”

“Ace!” Kit breathed out a sigh of relief, leaning back against the wall. “Don’t startle me like that!”

“Sorry,” He said, completely unapologetic, “Being a ghost does that to someone, I’ve learned.”

Kit laughed, having to admit he had a point. “That’s fair. But your fire’s usually a lot louder than that, so I’m surprised you hid so well.”

“Hm.” Ace came closer, concern creasing his brow. “I don’t know about that, Kit. I think you’re just… distracted. You okay?”

No, but Kit’s pretty sure he hasn’t been for a while.

“It’s nothing,” He promised, tasting ash on his tongue. “Just thinking, is all.”

“Ahh, I see.” Ace nodded, humming thoughtfully a moment later. Kit raised a brow as he stepped into his space, resting an arm above Kit’s head. “Well, how about I help you stop thinking for a bit, hm?”

As he spoke, Ace brought a hand up to take Kit’s chin between his forefinger and thumb, stroking Kit’s bottom lip. Kit huffed a laugh at the action, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Oh? And how are you going to do that?”

“I’m sure you could come up with something, eh, Enchanter?” Ace all but purred, eyes locked onto Kit’s. It made Kit’s heart race, excitement thrumming to life in his veins as Ace leaned ever closer—

Only for Ace to yelp as he suddenly fell through both Kit and the wall.

Kit burst out laughing while Ace let out a dismayed cry, covering his smile with his hand as Ace righted himself. He turned back to Kit, all charm replaced by a sheepish smile and heavy flush down to his chest that had Kit’s heart turning to mush.

“Guess that didn’t really… go well, huh?”

“No,” Kit disagreed, still giggling as he lowered his hand. “No, I think it worked exactly how you wanted it to.”

Ace pouted as he readjusted his hat where it had fallen askew. “But I wanted a kiss.”

With a smile Kit walked past, flicking the string of his cap up to Ace’s nose as he did. “Don’t worry, we’ll get you back in your body eventually. I’ve got a lead.”

“Wait—really?!” Perking up much like an excited dog, Ace cheered and ran to give Kit a giant hug.

Only to fall flat on his face as he, once again, went right through. Kit’s laughter was heard all the way up to the sundeck.

[harbingersecho]

they had to pause their morning workout to drive wash to the ER at 7 am bc he somehow got hit by a car while getting mail. there's traffic. maine fiddles with the radio and carolina is imagining herself parkouring over the other cars

[endereies]

Giving Matt a blowjob after winning a race

“He’s so going to win.” Smoke blurred your vision as the girls vape was blown out her mouth when she smokes. As much as you told her to stop it, she never did.

It was hard to contain a smirk after seeing just which car her eyes following. “Conor? Hell no.” Her eyes stared you down as she took another drag from her vape. You had gone nose blind to the blue raspberry.

“Oh c’mon. Don’t kid yourself, angel. His car has been modified beyond belief; you can’t actually think that Matt is gonna win.” You just giggled at her words,

“Matt has only lost once since I’ve been here. I have m’own prize for him if he wins, I think that’s initiative enough to win.”

“The fuck did you tell him?” The look on her face was a sign enough that she knew what you meant. You nudged her with a wink and the pair of you giggled. “Y’know, I’d call you a slut if you weren’t my friend.”

“You’d do the same thing, don’t even.” You taunted her before it went silent again, the smoke brushing your face again.

Suddenly the roars of engines grew closer. Over the span of the conversation, you just had, 5 laps had gone by and the final lap was drawing to a close. The glowing blue was clearly in front, the LED’s blinding close spectators.

“Go celebrate the win, girl. Have funn…” Sultry tones passed through her voice, but you waved it off and pushed yourself off of the wall and towards the finish line.

You hoist your skirt a little bit higher up your hips and pull back the shirt to expose more of your chest. You weren’t hiding any inch of skin. After all, Matt, as earned it. His car slowly drove past the thick crowd, who celebrated his win. His car was tainted with sloppy, sweaty fingerprints. Once the clearing was made, he exited the vehicle. A streak of hair stuck to his forehead as he stood up, his mouth parted slightly. He ran his tongue over his teeth as he saw me approaching. "Well.. look what the cat dragged in"

"Sturniolo, congrats on the win. Conor is pissed." You lean over his shoulder to see a bitter man be confronted by a few girls already. The same would happen to Matt if you weren't there.

"Mm, I had a real good-looking prize to look forward to, didn't I?" Your gaze stayed on him as he inched closer, one foot in front of the other until he was face to face with you. "Speaking of which, you owe me that right about now?"

"Eager, aren't we?" You tried to hold out longer than you did, but you wanted this with Matt as much as he did. After time, away from each other, it was hard not to jump at the opportunity. Your hand naturally slipped into his, and you started to pull him away from his vehicle to a more secluded area. It wasn't much, just a wall behind an old blocked building, yet the pair of you had used it most times since they shut it off. Otherwise, it was his car.

He didn't argue with the way you pulled his body away from the crowd, he knew that feisty attitude would be gone soon regardless. Once alone, Matt let his weight fall to the brick wall behind him, his skin tightening against the cold. Your hand quickly brushed against his crotch and Matt chuckled at the boldness. It wasn't new for either of you but he never got used to how it differed from most girls he'd been with before.

"You know what to do, don't you angel?" His voice dripped in faux kindness, the expression said it all. It didn't take long for your body to sink itself to its knees, the gravel embedded into your skin. It was hard not to smile at the effect you had on him, his arousal visible through his clothing. "Had me fucking thinking 'bout you throughout the race. Bet you get off on that."

You chuckled at his words, he wasn't wrong. Matt had only lost once since you had joined his equation a few months ago. The thought of you waiting there, dedicated to him in that moment made his brain fuzzy. "mm, you know me so well..."

By now the teasing of your hands drove him crazy, his hips thrusting upwards to indirectly tell you what he wanted. "Does Matt want his reward?" You hummed sweetly at him, he did too until he suddenly dropped any warmth. A hand wrapped into a bundle of your hair, tugging on it slightly.

"You're gonna be a good girl for me now, after all... I earned it." Now he was the confident one, staring down strongly, his way of subtly showing his control. With one hand in your hair, the other shifted to your cheek, cradling the skin. However, you obliged, toying with the fabric of his jeans and unbuckling the belt. Soon, you had hooked your fingers into the waistband of his boxers and dragged them down until they hit the floor.

The sudden cold made Matt hitch but the warmth of your palm dragged a new sound from his lips. You started slow, stroking at the base to get him hard. His head lolled back to meet the wall, a gracious smile upon his face. That was satisfaction enough to keep going. The other hand rested just above the other, twisting as you jerked him upwards and downwards.

Continuing the pattern, you tightened your grip on him slightly. Your mouth came dangerously close to where he really wanted it yet you let a ball of saliva drip off your tongue and onto the centre of his dick. A wet feeling covered the majority of his dick until you slid your hand over the slit for the first time. The precum made your hand move slightly quicker, causing stimulation to run through him.

"Such a fuckin' tease. Shiiiit..." The pace continued, torturously slow. Suddenly, your pace faltered and Matt brough his head back up so he could look at your actions. He barely got a look in before he saw your lips wrapped snugly around the tip of his cock. You sucked it carefully and ran your tongue directly over his slit. He wasn't shy about being vocal, even in public places and now was no exception. A low groan slipped past his lips as you took him in your mouth.

You pulled off, pumping him again in your hand, your fingers over his tip didn't give him the same feeling as your throat, the wet heat of your mouth felt heavenly. He huffed out a laugh, displaying his attitude towards your constant teasing. Before he got the chance to speak up, you took him in your mouth once more, deeper than the last. Both of you knew that you were planning your every move. You had done this far too many time to not know how to toy with him. "Does that feel good."

Matt grumbled at the idiocy of the question. "You just crave the validation don't y-" You cut him of by squeezing his tip with your hand, grinning at his sensitivity. "Fuuuuckk.." Matt's face flickered into one of pleasure, his head reeling at the state he was in.

Once he had regained himself enough, he tugged again on the strands of hair in his grip. "Let's put that pretty mouth to good use, shall we? C'mon, open your mouth - good giirrlll..." You shut up only to obey his words - opening your mouth and letting your tongue lie flat. That's when Matt took the opportunity to thrust half of his dick into your mouth. He moaned softly as he pushed himself further into your mouth, causing a weak gag from your throat.

You bobbed your head, matching his motions. Slowly but surely, you took more and more of him each time until he rammed what was left down your throat. Tears pricked at your eyes, clenching them shut at the air restriction. He held himself there before pulling away again. A sharp intake of air followed while a trail of saliva made its way down your chin. Your head bobbed slowly again, showing Matt you were ready for more. With permission, he jolted his hips deep into your mouth.

Matt was no longer bitching to you - groans and whimpers pushed into the air instead. Sensations enveloped all of him, your lips, swollen and plump with the constant friction against his dick. They were wet with precum and saliva, gathered like a lip-gloss. Your hands between his thighs for stabilization and the base of his dick, rubbing and jerking anything you couldn't fit inside. Finally, your eyes, maintaining such an innocent look to such a sinful activity.

"Feels s'good, taking me s'well." His words of praise slurred into one. M'close... wan' me to cum in that sweet mouth, angel? Would you like that?" You tried your best to nod to him and hummed in approval, moaning around his dick. He laughed quietly, a constant expression of bliss on his face. His thrusts grew deeper again, giving you minimal chances to take a deep breath of air. He knew you'd tap out if you needed it.

He let out a particualary loud moan as you traced your tongue over a prominent vein before sucking his tip relentlessly. He couldn't help the way his pelvis tapped your cheeks, the gagging sound doing no good for his brain.

"M'gonna cum! Shiiit.. you- you ready?" Speech was a weakened skill with his impending release and you could tell by the way he twitched inside of your mouth. By now, you knew just how long it would be until he came. So, about ten seconds later you took all of him, as much as you could. You suppressed the gagging feeling and replaced it with the feeling of his cock deep inside your throat, prodding at the skin.

He came with a low, sustained groan before they morphed into quiet whimpers. The substance was pumped into your mouth and you swallowed it with pride. Removing your mouth, you opened it to prove that every bit was gone. Your hand continued to pump him, milking him dry until he grew overstimulated.

His hand lay in abandon next to his torso, no longer in your hair. His chest heaved in exhaustion and you rose to your feet. Your hand finally pried itself away from his dick and landed on his jaw - pulling him in for a sloppy kiss only so that he could taste himself on your lips. He grinned tiredly into it, his tongue brushing against yours momentarily.

"I bet you really enjoy winning now." You helped him lift up his boxers and jeans, letting him buckle them back up.

"Your prizes are better than any trophy, angel." You nudged his side with your elbow. "Better than the money?"

"Don't push your luck."

[dietmimo]

The Ex.

Contrary to popular belief, they still get along well.

[vongulli]

Some silly dinopants stuff! Some kinda “Diego but he turns into a dragon instead of a dinosaur and its now all Fantasy-like??” au lmao!!! 

[captainkirkk]

I'm on season 3 of House MD and I really appreciate that they've graduated from "petty" medical malpractice to straight-up assisted suicide