#should I write this into a full fic?

[artiststarme]

Whenever Steve has a migraine, he seeks out Eddie. Eddie’s voice acts as the only white noise Steve’s head can tolerate on the bad days. And he’ll always drop everything to whisper soothing words to Steve for hours long past when he falls asleep.

He’ll talk about upcoming DnD campaigns, mumble about song lyrics, and go on long soliloquies about how Steve looks beautiful even if his brain is melting.

Eddie always has a sore throat the next day but that never stops him. (When Steve finds out about the sore throats, he stops mentioning the headaches but somehow Eddie still knows. He shows up with a face mask, some cough drops, and a smile.)

[brainzzzeater]

Happy Halloween spideypool nation‼️

Halloween version of this post since booping is back

[rosalie-starfall]

Agatha All Along

If I Can't Reach You / Let My Song Teach You

[benevolenterrancy]

hi!! I think your art is *so cool* o(≧∇≦o)

do you think you could draw more moshang? either post canon or that au you did last time?? (baby mobei has my heart and all I own)

(˵ •̀ ᴗ •́ ˵ ) oh! how about return to childhood—moshang flavor?

don't question this king, shang qinghua, he knows what he's about

[kinardscake]

Chimney discovers a recipe for making Buck do whatever he wants him to do. Only 3 ingredients are needed: a daughter, a pilot and a toy.

He discovers it by accident when Buck and Tommy come over for dinner one day. And it’s a special “I need something and only you can help me” kind of dinner. So they go all out making Buck’s favorite foods hoping that he’d agree to babysit Jee-Yun for a few days while they go away on a shortest, tiniest vacation.

The dinner is over and it’s now or never. Chimney asks Jee-Yun to show Tommy her new toy helicopter while ‘Mommy and Daddy talk to uncle Buck’.

They start off by saying how much Jee-Yun loves him and how great it would be for her to spend so much time with her favorite uncle. And Buck just says “yes”, no hesitation, no questions, not needing them to convince him. That’s when Chimney realizes that Buck didn’t even look at them once, his eyes were fixed on his boyfriend playing with his niece the entire time.

A theory starts forming in his head, because Buck agreed way too easily. Of course, it could be because Buck loves Jee-Yun and his daughter is an angel (most of the time anyway), but his heart tells him it’s not it.

So, Chimney sets out to prove his newfound theory.

At Bobby and Athena’s house he ask Jee-Yun to go up to uncle Buck and Tommy and ask Tommy to give her a piggyback ride. Meanwhile Chimney asks Buck to take over his firehouse quarters’ cleaning duties next shift. Buck agrees.

At the Wilsons’ house Buck agrees to loan Chimney his precious car for a week.

At his house Buck agrees to name his firstborn child Howard.

At the firehouse team and family party Chimney and Maddie once again find themselves asking Buck to babysit Jee-Yun for a couple of days. Buck agrees, looking at them this time, a dreamy look in his eyes. He says he and Tommy love having her around. And they could use the practice.

Maddie jumps up in her seat and asks Buck if he’s thinking about starting a family with Tommy.

Buck shows her his left hand, his ring finger no longer empty. “We already have,” he says, “Asked each other last night.”

Tommy comes over with Jee-Yun on his shoulders, laughing and shrieking “Uncle Tommy” while he tickles her feet.

He sees the stunned expressions on his future in-laws’ faces and Buck twirling his ring, smiling wide.

Tommy laughs, connecting the dots. He sets Jee-Yun down. He grabs Buck’s hand and sits down next to him.

“Maddie and Chim are asking us to babysit Jee-Yun next week,” Buck says happily. “I said sure.”

“Seeing me and her worked like a charm again, huh?” Tommy laughs again while Buck shrugs his shoulders.

Tommy looks at Chimney and Maddie and says, “We’d be happy to,” and adds after a moment, “By the way, Howie. We’re not naming our first child Howard, I’m sorry.”

[sluttyminghao]

just spitballing some ideas here... thanks @beomcoups for spurring my imagination

okay but...

reader kneeling in front of mingyu and seungcheol, mouth open and awaiting their cocks. they're smirking from above you, twitching in excitement at the prospect of you taking both of their cocks in your mouth at the same time.

your naked body only turns them on even more, how the curves perfectly accentuate all your features. it doesn't take them long to slide their cocks into your mouth, the tightness and wetness enveloping their tips and making them both cum almost instantly.

[tswwwit]

If I can finish this one scene and slap the draft around a bit, I think I'm gonna split this fic in half and post the first bit on AO3. Wish me luck.

[thekittyokat]

you ever just have a lot, a LOT of feelings all at once about a character and not even remotely enough words or brainpower to FORM the words to describe everything you're feeling. so it feels like you may explode. yeah

[wreckedandpolemic]

nsfw alphabet - white and gold!matty x reader

(mdni) this au has taken over my brain so you can all have a little a lot of filth. as a treat. white and gold isn't required reading but it's recommended. 3856 words.

warnings (mentions of): dom/sub dynamics, praise, cumplay, breeding kink, masturbation, drug use, oral (f and m receiving), unprotected sex, spanking, exhibitionism, overstimulation

a - aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

god he’s the sweetest. he’s obsessed with you, absolutely worships you every time you finish. if it’s been particularly rough, he’ll be even sweeter, kissing all over your body; gentle touches as he cleans you up; lots of reassurances. he overflows with good girl’s and did so well for me’s and so, so perfect’s.

his favourite thing, though, is putting you in his clothes after. especially early on, before you have a drawer or any clothes at his place, it’s pretty routine for you to fall asleep in one of his shirts, and the sight of you drives him crazy every time.

b - body part (their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

his (and your) favourite part of him is his chest. he works fucking hard to look like that, and you’re quickly learning how hard. he tries his best not to wake you when he gets up at the actual asscrack of dawn to go for a run or to the gym, but he’s almost never successful. catching him coming back from the gym, though, is always a fucking treat, drenched with sweat and panting as you practically rip his clothes off. and he’s a vain little fucker who loves attention, so even in winter he’ll just turn the heat up and go shirtless, gratuitously flexing so you can ogle the muscles of his chest, his defined v-line, the trail of hair that licks down into his waistband. you leave bruises there whenever you get the chance <3

cliche as it sounds, matty loves your tits. he’ll buy you new bras just to rip them off you and bury his face between your tits. every time you fuck, he pays them special attention, kissing and licking and sucking and biting until you’re a soaking wet mess under his hands. one day he swears he’ll make you cum just from that.

c - cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

oh that man has the biggest breeding kink. he’s kind of insane for it actually. he’ll cum inside you every chance he gets, fucking beg for you to let him. “please, baby,” he’s practically whining. “wanna cum in your pretty cunt. need it. wanna stuff you full, make you mine forever.” you can never resist him, locking your legs around his waist and holding him in place as he spills deep inside you.

the sight of you with his cum dripping down your thighs drives him crazy, never mind watching you collect it on your fingers and clean it up with your mouth. he always wants to finger it back into you, kissing the oversensitive whines out of your mouth and muttering about how he’s “gonna fuck a baby into you, yeah? gotta get it all, okay? make sure it takes.”

d - dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

he’ll never give back that pair of panties you slipped him at the dinner. entirely distracted, he’d forgotten all about them until you went home the next day and he went to throw his clothes in the laundry and found the scrap of lace in his pocket. for some reason, he can’t bring himself to put them in the wash, leaving them crumpled on the dresser and sitting at the back of his mind when he takes you out for lunch. when he gets home, the scent of your perfume and the red of your lipstick lingering on him, he stares at them for minutes, trying to convince himself that he’s not a horny teenager anymore and he shouldn’t.

then he remembers the look on your face when you handed them to him, remembers your dress sliding to the floor and leaving you naked and dripping wet for him, and his control breaks. the lace scrapes harshly against his tender skin as he pumps himself furiously, and he cums embarrassingly quick with your name on his lips.

e - experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

oh, he knows. and he’ll never stop reminding you. he loves hearing you moan how good he is, how he’s the best you’ve ever had (“‘m the best you’ll ever have,” he corrects), how he’s ruined you for other men. any time you want to try something new, he’ll talk you through it all sweet and gentle; “s’okay, baby. daddy’s gonna take good care of you, promise. such a good, sweet girl for me.”

if he ever even catches wind of a time you’ve had bad or even unsatisfying sex, he’ll take it upon himself to replace the memory, disparaging all the ‘pathetic boys’ you’ve fucked before him. he’s obscenely jealous, adoring your assurances that you’re his girl, that nobody else could ever compare. sometimes, he’ll ask whether you’ve ever tried something, just so he can “show you how it should really feel,” if you have and be your first if you haven’t.

g - goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they more humorous? etc.)

one thing you do teach him is how not to take himself so seriously every time you have sex. “doesn’t have to be so intense all the time,” you tease. “it’s okay if you laugh sometimes. m’not gonna turn to stone.” he doesn’t really take it on board until the first time you get high with him. by now, you have a key to his place, letting yourself in in the early hours of a sunday morning, having come home for a friend’s birthday. he’s on the sofa, lit spliff dangling from his lips, and he practically jumps out of his skin seeing you. a little tipsy, you climb over the sofa and snatch it from him, pulling deeply before he can even react.

both of you stoned, he’s more relaxed than you’ve ever seen him, free from the tension that strings him tight in his day-to-day. you climb into his lap, kissing him messily between giggles and grinding your hips down against him. when you fuck, it’s slow, indulgent, both of you laughing breathlessly as you fumble out of your clothes, matty’s fingers tangled up in your hair. later, you tell him it might be your favourite memory of the two of you. when he asks why, you shrug. “i dunno. like seeing you laugh when we’re like that. don’t always need it to be such an event, you know?”

h - hair (how well-groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

gonna be real something about this question squicks me out i think it’s the phrase ‘does the carpet match the drapes’ like that is gross

i will say that he could not fucking care less whether you’re shaved. the first time he catches you unawares, surprising you with a visit to your uni flat, you stutter an embarrassed apology. he stops you with a glare, muttering about how “only pathetic boys care about that. pathetic boys who don’t deserve to look at you, don’t deserve to even think about your pretty cunt.” then he has you sit on his face still in your short skirt and shows you exactly how little he cares <3

i - intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect.)

you wouldn’t have guessed it, but he really is quite a romantic. he loves fucking you missionary, watching your face as you take him, pure adoration in his eyes. he’ll never stop murmuring how beautiful you are, how lucky he is to have you, how you’re made for each other, thick, heady pulses of heat and desire and something more washing over you every time.

the first time you fuck after saying i love you, he uses the words every chance he gets: between breathy, wet kisses; against your skin as he traces his tongue down your body; tracing the words with a finger while he fucks you. when he dips his head between your legs, you can feel him spelling the words with his tongue in your cunt, helpless moans falling from your lips as you roll your hips wildly against his mouth.

j - jack off (masturbation headcanon)

he’s away a lot, always on some important business trip or other, and it drives you mental. somehow, it’s impossible to find more than a few snatched days where you’re back from uni and he’s in your city. so he spends a lot of nights in hotel beds with a hand around his cock and thoughts of you circling his mind. the first time you catch him in the act, it’s an accident — you’re only calling because you miss him, but the low pitch of his voice and his soft groan when you say his name give him away quickly.

“are you getting off, daddy?” his quiet moan is enough of a yes. “are you thinking of me?”

“always think of you, princess.” his words send a bolt of heat straight to your core. knowing you’re the object of his fantasies, the only object, turns you on beyond belief. “wish i could have you right now. need my girl all spread out for me, need to make her feel so fucking good.”

your hand has already found its way into your panties, wetness pooling against your fingers. “what would you do to me if i was there?”

k - kink (one or more of their kinks)

oh, it’s a long list. he introduces you to almost everything; you trust him to keep you safe through it all, so you’ll try anything once. somno, cumplay, bondage, edging and breeding feature most frequently, sometimes all at once, you flush to think of. more than anything, though, he loves being your daddy, practically blacking out the first time you use the word.

and then there’s corruption. corruption corruption corruption! he fucking loves reminding you about your age gap, loves moaning how you’re such a good girl letting a dirty old man ruin you. you love to tease him with it, playing up your innocence with wide eyes and pouting lips.

or the time he spanked you with a belt, bent over his desk after hours at the office. but that’s a story for another day…

l - location (favourite place to do the do)

despite your complaints about adventure, he’ll always love having you in his bed the best. he’s so possessive, nothing compares to seeing you naked and breathless and soaked against his sheets. he’ll spend long moments just watching you like that, committing the sight perfectly to memory before he makes you his over and over again.

m - motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

everything you do turns him on, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t adore you making yourself at home at his place. being a homemaker is in your nature, and it drives him wild to come home and see you cooking or cleaning for him.

the only thing missing, he thinks, is a ring sparkling on your finger and his last name joining your first. he tells you as much when he bends you over the kitchen table, rucking your skirt up around your hips and filling you in one stroke. “god, look so good actin’ like my little housewife, princess. can’t wait to come home to you every single fuckin’ day.” he punctuates the last words with deep, hard thrusts. “‘m never lettin’ you go, angel. gonna marry you, make you mine forever.” you can’t hold back a moan as you nod furiously. “you like that? yeah? c’mon, mrs. healy, cum for me.”

n - no (something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs)

he’d never share you, so a threesome is off the table. he’s too obsessed with you, too possessive over you, the idea of watching someone else put their hands on you frankly horrifying. you bring it up once, more for curiosity’s sake, a somewhat stereotypical college experience you’ve never had, and he shoots it down immediately. “don’t wanna let anyone else touch you. they don’t deserve it.” he says, a little sullen that you’d even consider it.

“what about another girl?” you suggest, wondering if, like so many men, the fantasy has crossed his mind.

“don’t care about other girls,” he answers without hesitation. “you’re the only girl i want or need. forever, yeah?” he squeezes your hand, and you can’t really argue with that, can you?

o - oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

as much as he loves seeing you on your knees with your lips stretched around his cock, his favourite place to be is between your thighs. you’ve never dated a man who liked to give oral before, but matty actively gets off on it, moaning into your cunt as he fucking devours you. it’s his favourite way to wake you, pleasure pooling at the base of your spine while you’re still hazy with sleep.

“couldn’t resist,” he murmurs from under the blanket, pressing kisses to the insides of your thighs as you squirm. “looked so fuckin’ pretty, and you taste so sweet. can’t get enough of this pussy, angel.”

p - pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

he likes it rough because you like it rough. the man fucking lives to make you happy, any way he can. any way he can make you a drooling mess on his cock. as much as he protests about being “too old for this, darling,” he’ll fuck you anywhere if you beg pretty enough, holding you up against the wall and rutting wildly against you, sometimes with a hand over your mouth to muffle your noises.

when you do go slow, it’s intense. he’ll tease you with it, stuffing you full and just keeping you there, belly coiled tight as you clench and squirm, urging him to fucking move. slow, languid strokes, gentle touches over the most sensitive parts of your body, your legs shaking as you plead and whine. “so impatient,” he tuts. “don’t you trust me, baby? i’ll get you there.”

q - quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

he’ll almost never initiate them. he’d rather tease, get you desperate and needy and spend his time taking you apart. you’re better than a quick, quiet fuck in a grotty little bathroom to him. you see it differently, more into the instant gratification of pulling him aside in secret. he’s more amenable to it while you’re still a secret, those snatched moments sometimes your only chances to be with him.

you’ll never stop trying, though, teasing him until he’s groaning that you’re “such a needy little slut. can’t even wait ‘til we get home, hm? need me to bend you over in public, make sure everyone knows what a dirty girl you are?” you’ll stumble back into the party, sated and so dazed you're seeing stars, and squirm at his cum pooling in your underwear and the knowledge that he’s going to punish you for being a brat later.

r - risk ( are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

like i said, the pair of you will try anything once. temperature play? blindfolding? anal? check, check, check. at the start, you’re a little shy about it, murmuring about how you “saw this thing i think i wanna try.” generally, though, you’re the risk-taker, crawling under his desk before an important meeting and doing everything you can to make him lose control with your mouth.

“such a dirty girl,” he murmurs when you’re finally left alone. “what would people think, knowing my pretty girlfriend’s down there drooling around my dick, hm? my little exhibitionist, bet you’re dripping thinkin’ about everyone finding out what a slut you are for me.” he forces you back onto your knees under the desk at a light tap on the door. “can stay down there and keep me warm ‘til i’m done, yeah?” matty smirks, and you shudder as you obey.

“come on in.”

s - stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

even though you love to tease him about being old, sometimes you struggle to keep up with him. matty devotes himself to making you cum at least twice almost every time he gets you off, whether with his fingers, his mouth or his cock.

you’re almost in awe of how long he can give oral; your jaw aches for hours after giving a blowjob, but he’ll pin your hips down and bury his tongue inside you for what feels like eternity. you’ve lost track of how many times you’ve cum at this point, floating freely in a sea of bliss as sensation wracks every limb. “doin’ so good, princess,” matty says, lips and chin absolutely soaked in you. “can you take one more?”

“can’t. s’too much, daddy, please!”

he only laughs. “yes, you can. be a good girl for daddy, yeah? gonna take as many as i want you to, okay?” you moan. “words, angel.”

“can take it, daddy,” you whine, every nerve in your body on fire. “‘m your good girl. do whatever you want,” you slur.

“that’s right,” matty murmurs, dipping his head back between your legs, his tongue sending heat pulsing under your skin. “whatever i want.”

t - toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

he loves spoiling you to an almost ridiculous degree. nearly every time he goes away, a tastefully-wrapped little box finds its way to your doorstep. you tease him with pictures and videos of you using them while he’s gone, attaching a message that it’s still not as good as you :(

when he comes home, he’ll use them on you, edging you for hours with intense vibrations on your clit and dragging it over your body while you squirm and plead, tears pooling in your eyes.

one day, you find that his interest in toys doesn’t stop at you. there’s a shoebox tucked innocuously under his bed that you open curiously, flushing ruby-woo-red at the contents. “found something earlier, daddy,” you murmur against his lips, your skirt splayed out over his lap as you make out lazily at the edge of the bed.

matty chuckles. “what’d you find, princess?”

wordlessly, you tug the box out and set it on the bed next to you. he swallows thickly, not meeting your eyes. “do you use all of this stuff, daddy?”

“i- i used to,” he stammers, nervous in a way you’ve never seen him.

“did they make you feel good?” he nods. “can i use them on you?” shuddering, he nods again, and you resist the urge to clap your hands. “oh, this is gonna be so much fun. what do you wanna try first?”

u - unfair (how much they like to tease)

so much. he’s practically evil. he’s better at controlling himself than you, able to torture you in public for hours on end without so much as displacing a hair.

his fingers rub circles into your thigh, inching closer and closer to where you need them as you press up against him. “daddy, please don’t tease,” you whisper as loud as you dare.

he clicks his tongue. “be patient, baby. good girls get what they want,” he promises, running a finger over the lace between your legs.

you’re a desperate, needy mess by the time he finally touches you, the contact electric and buzzing under your skin. “was patient, daddy,” you whine. “please.”

v - volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

another reason he doesn’t so much go for quickies —- you learn fast that he’s very vocal, liberal with praise that falls fluidly from his lips. you wish you could bottle up the sound of his moans, play it on loop like a favourite record. your favourite sounds, though, are the ones he makes unconsciously, when he’s dreaming of you. he’ll murmur your name, hips grinding against your ass, quiet moans and sounds you could only describe as whimpers spilling from his lips. you wake him up with your cunt stretched around his cock nearly every time.

w - wild card (a random headcanon)

it doesn’t come out very often, but he has a submissive side. the first time you find it, you’re spread out on his tongue, moaning how good he is, how amazing you feel as you cum against his mouth. “did i do good?” he asks, eyes shining. it’s a sentiment you know well, and the power of having it directed at you is heady.

“so good, daddy,” you murmur, scratching your nails over his scalp in reward and savouring the way he shudders under your touch. something about using the epithet as he melts under your hands is intoxicating. he’s patient, still, even as his body hums with nervous energy. “you needy, daddy? want me to take care of you?” you tease, pushing him down on the bed and straddling him. “don’t worry,” you say, slowly lowering yourself down on him. “i learned from the best.”

x - x-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

there’s no polite way to say it; he’s fucking huge. your eyes roll back in your head when he fills you completely, cunt stretched around him. you giggle with your friends, spilling stories of your adventures, of screaming orgasms and being so sore you can barely walk, to their whines of jealousy.

besides that, though, he looks like he’s been sculpted by the fucking gods, all marble skin and defined muscle wrapped up in designer suits. he knows his tattoos drive you crazy, too, grinning as you kiss and lick at them when you’re working your way down his body.

y - yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

so high. he’s like a horny teenager. he wants you all the fucking time, every little thing you do driving him wild. you giggle and joke about how eager he is, “for a man your age,” and he pinches your ass for being cheeky. it works out great, though, because you want him all the time. most of the time, you fuck until he’s satisfied, and you love being made to take it, being a little toy for him.

z - zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterward)

he’s a worrier, you notice pretty quickly. he’ll always make sure you’re okay, fussing sweetly over you as your eyes close and you cuddle into him. sometimes you’ll wake up to him tossing and turning, still wide awake. “are you okay, matty?”

he smiles softly. “‘m fine, angel. go back to sleep. sorry i woke you.”

“not if you can’t sleep,” you pout. “always sleep so good next to you. not fair if you don’t get that,” you frown, kissing softly at the corners of his mouth.

“such a sweet girl,” he murmurs fondly. “think a brew might help, if you’re up for it?” you take his hand and let him lead you into the kitchen, sitting at the table with a hot chocolate (tea, blech). the pair of you talk long into the night, and it becomes something of a habit when he struggles getting to sleep.

[caraphernellie]

people should write more about ellie being rly goofy in the middle of sex idk... she just would be very goofy i think... i don't think she takes herself that seriously... that idiot is going to laugh at everything. and that makes it fun !! no use being embarrassed by upsetting sounds (like queefs) or accidental farts or anything. she prob calls u some name like queef queen after

[is-this-even-relatable]

A Rising Phantom

———

Summary: danny died, and no one knows. He is a full ghost, and only thanks to his dual obsessions can he “live” a normal life and pretend that nothing happened.

I aim to make this a multichaptered fic! Hopefully, the first fic I post on AO3!

HEADCANONS/TROPES/TAGS:

no one knows! AU

full ghost! danny

eventual everlasting trio

dual obsessions inspired by this post, which are protection (Phantom) and space (Fenton)

my own headcanon: danny's death is inevitable, a single point in time that cannot be avoided or changed.

———

Danny died on a Saturday.

He was too young to have been left alone; any other house would’ve be fine, but everyone in that town knew, even then, that the Fentons' house was to be avoided by a wide berth.

His parents had rushed out in a frustrated fit, leaving him and Jazz by themselves for the weekend, just like so many before. They were always an afterthought to their parents, long before he was 14.

Danny didn’t intend to go down to the lab that night. But Jazz was out with her friend Kyle, and he was bored. And something down there called to him, though he didn’t know it.

He didn’t know that forces beyond his comprehension were leading to this point, this singularity.

If Danny had known the fate in store for him, he would have begged his parents for them to stay that night, or take him with them. But he didn't know, he couldn't have known... because that's how it was always going to be.

He didn’t know that a man with a clock in his chest, who changed between ages in the blink of an eye, was watching as he walked down those lonely steps.

He didn’t know, as he pulled on a white hazmat suit hand-sewn just for him, far too flimsy for what it was meant to protect him against, that a sentient dimension was pushing against the veil, straining for him.

He didn’t know, as he stepped through the gaping metal maw, that it had already called his name, and death had claimed it.

And afterwards, while he curled up on the cold basement floor, clutching his chest for a pulse, he still did not know that even if he had known... he would have had no choice but to do the same.

Danny died when he turned the portal on, alone in his parents’ lab.

Standing inside, fifty million Watts of electricity coursed from his palm to his heart, searing its path into his skin. It had no exit route. It cooked him from the inside, lighting all of his nerves on fire, and doused him in an infinite realm’s worth of dimensional energy. After what seemed like hours of screaming, panicking, burning- he somehow managed to crawl out of the portal.

He died then, lying flat in front of the machine that ended him, as the intense pain faded into a dull throb that replaced the beating that used to be in his chest.

And as he sat up, feeling both sore and feather-light, he looked down upon his body, and realized that he had died that day, and he was not coming back.

Danny panicked. And he did the only thing he could do. He decided to run away, afraid of what he was, confused and scared and feeling very not himself.

But the main anxiety that drove him to hide his accident was a rather juvenile one.

…He was afraid that his parents would be upset that he had gone into the lab without their permission.

He had messed with their stuff, and turned something on… something he definitely shouldn’t have.

He had just opened a portal to a realm full of the very things that kept him from sleeping at night, of “unfeeling monsters” that his parents had drilled into him about for years.

A portal to ghosts… that were now free to come through.

That thought made something inside him solidify, and a low hum began to emanate from him as he worried about his family. About the ghosts and the portal and how they were going to manage without him…

He couldn’t just leave like this. Not when he was responsible. He couldn’t let a whole realm of monsters hurt his family. At that thought, dread filled him, and that same something inside his chest ached.

But it occurred to him that he still had to leave. Not just at the thought of his parents stumbling in on his body.

No, it was about him. For he was one of them now, wasn’t he? A ghost. And he was a monster now, too. Despite not feeling like one. Despite knowing that there was clearly something wrong with what he had been told and what he knew was intimately true of himself in this new form.

But something inside him whispered at him that he couldn’t take the chance, if he did turn into a monster. He couldn’t let himself hurt his family.

So with fears on his back and a tingle fading from his fingertips, Danny pulled himself up onto unsteady feet. He took his body outside, to the woods where no one would know. And he buried it, alone, surrounded by trees and the sky.

He sat there, at his fresh grave, and cried.

Holding his arms around himself tight, he mourned the loss of warmth, of blood pumping and his heartbeat, so loud in its absence.

Surrounded by nothing but silence, he mourned that he’d never made close friends, nor really had the chance.

Looking up at the stars, he mourned that he could never fulfill his dream of being an astronaut.

He mourned for himself because no one else could.

And as his last cry petered off into the night, the sun broke the horizon.

A different something tugged at his chest, and he let it pull without resistance, worn ragged as he was.

And he was grateful he did. For a soothing light washed over him and transformed him into something similar, but not quite as he was Before.

But he felt warmth, and he felt a pseudo-beat in his chest, sluggish as it was. And suddenly he realized that although he was dead, he was alive in a different way.

He was still there.

He didn’t have to give up on life.

He was not going to be a monster.

Danny walked back home. He washed the dirt away from under his fingernails. He swept the lab until it looked like no one had been there. Minus the massive swirling vortex.

And when Jazz got home from her sleepover, Danny hugged her with a smile.

He was going to be fine.

They would all be fine, he would make sure of it.

[artiststarme]

Anytime Eddie wants to voice his intrusive thoughts to someone he phrases it like it’s something any Midwesterner would do. 

He and Steve are on vacation to Chicago to see a concert and as they’re walking behind a mother and small child on the bridge, Eddie says, “Ah, the Midwestern urge to push the mini human off the edge.”

And Steve just looks at him in alarm and says, “um… no.” 

Eddie moves on like nothing happened but for the rest of the day, Steve just keeps sending him confused looks like what the fuck is wrong with this man.

Now a full fic!

Permanent tag list: @doubleb11 @nburkhardt @zerokrox-blog @newtstabber @i-less-than-three-you @carlyv @pyrohonk @straight4joekeery @trippypancakes @conversesweetheart @estrellami-1 @suddenlyinlove @yikes-a-bee @swimmingbirdrunningrock @perseus-notjackson @anaibis @merricatty @maya-custodios-dionach @grtwdsmwhr @manda-panda-monium @lumoschild @goodolefashionedloverboi @mentallyundone

[theseus8349]

I miss the person I was before I made this

They're both distant to love, the doctor has lost so so many people he loves, he's had to lose his loved ones over and over again. He's scared that he'll lose or hurt more people he cares about.

Missy hasn't lost loads of people, no she's lost one specific person over and over again, that person being the doctor. She's scared to fall for him again because she knows she'll just leave being heartbroken.

[unicornpopcorn14]

For the hurt comfort prompts, how about "Just breathe, it’ll be over soon" or "Asking them every two minutes if they need something" for skk? I think the kind of scenarios that would lead to them saying/doing those things for each other would be interesting!

Skk whump || 8.5K words || One Shot

(Sorry for the long wait on thiss :'> Hope you enjoy <3)

Hurt/Comfort prompts

[crystallizsch]

a thunderstorm woke me up and now my veins are running on pure caffeine and (unfortunately) i have jamil on the mind.

so now i'm thinking about what if yuu has an extreme fear of thunder

imagine there's a thunderstorm in the middle of the night.

you've just been weirdly anxious, and when jamil inquired, you begrudgingly admit that you're afraid of thunder.

it's embarrassing. why would you be scared of thunder, they're just loud sounds. it’ll pass.

jamil had to stop himself from making a judgmental remark. even if jokingly.

he’s deathly afraid of bugs, he literally has no place to make fun of you for it.

at least with bugs you can get rid of them, but you can’t just fight the weather unless you’re a powerful mage.

so the least jamil can do is to comfort you.

maybe listening to music sharing headphones.

or make you focus on his voice instead so you don’t pay attention to the loud noises. either by chatting or reading a book together.

of course, maybe he could also use snake whisper on you so your mind would effortlessly cease those fears.

jamil would if you asked. but he’s not going to offer it himself.

(besides, it’s a bit weird if he’s using his unique magic on you again, considering whatever your relationship is at this point.)

and it’s not like that idea would even cross your mind when all you could think about was the agonizing dread of oncoming thunder.

plus it kinda sounds crazy knowingly asking someone to put you under mind control.

every time thunder boomed you found yourself clinging to jamil's clothes. burying your face in his chest. as if you were holding onto him for dear life.

he'd laugh if he knew you weren't deathly afraid of it. so he'd make soothing gestures instead.

the thunder was still unbearable, but eventually you found comfort in jamil’s warmth.

it really helped to drown it out. at least mostly.

this seemed to be a better outcome anyway than forcing you to just forget about it.

and it would’ve been easier, sure. but how many times could you get the chance to cozy up to jamil

and on the other hand, jamil kinda wanted this moment to last. how many times could he have an excuse for "relaxing" with you.

as much as it makes you suffer, him wanting this moment to last longer meant wishing for the thunderstorm to last longer as well.

jamil hopes you can forgive him for being selfish in that regard.

[crybaby-bkg]

Arranged marriage AU with Barbarian Bakugou who is so daunting to be around at first. He’s all gruff curses and broad shoulders and scarred cheeks and neck and jaw. He scowls constantly, stares at you while your parents auction you off like some show pig, but doesn’t say much to you besides a grunt of his name. You’re terrified, thinking that he’ll be cruel to you, that you’re being set up for a life full of unhappiness and terror and regret.

But he’s the exact opposite. Bakugou is gentle in ways a man of his size typically wouldn’t be, but he shrinks himself for you. Not in a way that diminishes his status as the newly appointed king, but to respect you, show you that you’re beside him instead of behind him.

He picks you berries on his hunts because he knows the smell of a fresh kill brings nausea to your stomach. You find him along with the other maidens and helpers around his village, sitting beside them, big fingers holding tiny little flowers that he weaves into a crown for you. When he sets it on your head, he purses his lips, mutters something under his breath in his language that you’re still not too familiar with, but sure it means something along the lines of pretty and soft.

And when he finds you bathing in the river only few have access to, he’s sweet the whole time. Doesn’t make a spectacle of you being naked, and is relieved when you don’t instantly cower when he wades his way over to you. You try not to stare at the clawed scars that decorate his pec and jaw when he stands above you, and it helps when he suddenly dumps water all over your head. He shushes you when you splutter, continues on with cupping his hands and letting the water run off of your hair and down your shoulders, scrubbing at your skin until your flesh squeaks. He doesn’t expect you to do the same for him, but he hums in satisfaction when you push him down a little lower so you can wash the crown of his head.