#sunday is such a menace

[artexmachina]

There's so many more WIPs I made after 2.1 Penacony but I guess they have to wait. Till then accept this as my offering to the void

[ew-selfish-art]

Dpxdc AU: consultant groups can be used to outsource problems for companies so why not monarchies?

Danny is listening to the various eyeballs and ghosts chatter on about all the issues that he now has to oversee and advise and make so many freaking decisions on. It’s annoying that it all has to come down to his call because he was a dumb 14 year old who didn’t want his town to permanently live in the ghost zone.

Now 17, King of the Infinite, and a bit wiser to the world, Danny is doing his best to balance his teenage ambitions to not give a shit and his protective obsession to very much give a shit.

Sams parents are making her learn the family business and Tucker is trying to make this internship he’s got with a fancy tech company out of New Jersey into a career without college… so while they’re commiserating with Danny the idea comes up.

Earth has a shit ton of heroes. Like, ever since the Justice League *poofed* the GIW out of existence with the Meta human acts- more and more caped crusaders seemed to be coming out of the wood work. More villains too but still, more people who seemed wise to their abilities and morals. Danny has literally never taken an ethics class.

But rn, Eye-mothy and Eye-Bert are arguing over how Danny as King Phantom is supposed to tackle the problem of some fucking pool acting as a weird trade route with a cult and… ugh it’s just so boring but like also such a fucking problem. But… maybe it can be someone else’s issue.

Opening a portal, Danny escapes into space and gets to work finding the base of operations- Tucker had told him there was a new satellite after all and there’s no way it wasn’t connected to the hero orgs- and boom he flies into the Watchtower.

“Hey- are any of you guys willing to consult on some weird pools of ectoplasm in Pakistan? Green and glowing little lakes of bullshit and magic?” Danny asks into the meeting room of the JL regardless of their startled and alarmed exclamations.

“… I could consult on that.” A voice comes from the corner, and Danny recognizes him as one of the bat people. Or bird? The guy is in a lot of red and clearly wasn’t supposed to be in this meeting based on the way he’s propped in the corner. The room erupts in protest but Danny barely hears them through his excitement and focus on the dude.

“Great! I’ll have him back before the end of the day! Lets go Bird boy!” And with that, Danny grabbed the Bird, chucked them both through a portal back into his thrown room and begins to explain the way these eyeballs are totally trying to trap him into doing more work than he needs to do.

“What do I call you by the way? I’m Danny but you’ll probably hear them call me King Phantom.”

“I go by Red Robin, and honestly, I’ve been trying to get this shit taken care of for years.”

From there Tim becomes a regular consultant for King Phantom- the Bat Family is losing their minds with him constantly going to the land of the dead but also Constantine said not to piss off the king at all costs.

Danny is just thrilled that this dude has a shit ton of insight as well as business sense- like he could legit run the monarchy way better than him despite the fact that they’re the same age.

They end up working together for years, and even when there’s not an active issue at hand, Danny will meet up with the bird just to talk.

Sam and Tucker think they’re hilarious each time they ask if Danny’s proposed yet.

Tim has already planned their wedding but all of that information is in a folder more secured than the nuclear codes- Danny needs to ask him on a date first.

[brewed-pangolin]

Soap MacTavish is the kind of menace that will kiss you so sweetly, whisper the most endearing sonnets of your beauty into your ear all while his thumb ravages your clit and finger fucks you like the man whore that he is.

[sunflowersinheaven]

i think there is not enough fics of obi wan using the force for kinky things with cody, the possibilities are endless... cody gets pinned down by the force, the cocky smile when he notices obi wan is using the force for that....obi wan using the force to tease him when they cant touch.... manhandling cody with a bit of help from the force.... so many possibilities!!!

[hijinxinprogress]

Coffee addict Never sleeps Tim drake ❌ 

Solving cases in his sleep off 87 energy drinks Tim Drake ✅

The coffee addict never sleeps perpetually tired Tim Drake thing is a widely accepted headcanon however that was elementary school tim but after he stayed up for a week straight subsisting entirely on coffee to decipher the bat weekly patrol schedule and how it aligns with rogue attacks/Arkham breakouts, he crashed then when he woke up it was fucking wednesday so he missed his chance to commemorate his discovery with pictures of Robin and he decided that shit would never happen again and made himself an ‘efficient’ sleep schedule so he could run around doing fuck shit, add to his robin shrine, and stay on honor roll bc he was even more pissed to see the gotham gazette had pictures of Robin with an on site interview credited to Vicki Vale (listen bowl cut tim had a one sided beef with vicki vale that included tim judging who gets better pics of the bats but she isn’t even aware that she’s competing with a whole ass child 😭 he’s sitting at the table with a mug of orange juice and looks at the newspaper snorts and goes ‘fucking amateur I could do better’) 

Regularly unsupervised tiny businessman in training Tim ‘Ten hours of uninterrupted sleep?? That’s so inefficient not to mention fucking stupid’ Drake is so pissed he missed getting shots of Robin dropkicking a rogue from 6 six stories up (for absolutely no reason dick just thinks it’s fun) that he just takes at least 3 hour naps every eight hours 😭 he refuses to spend almost half a day sleeping ‘for no reason when he could be doing something productive’ 

And he still does this as a bat but it’s just easier to tell if he didn’t take his nap bc he has less than zero impulse control and he’s just fucking done with everything like the gcpd is terrified bc tim’s saying shit like ‘This guys a fucking moron, I could’ve done this in half the time without killing anyone fucking loser doesn’t he know if you keep them alive you can prolong the torture?’ and ‘you’re like all hysterical and for what 🤨 ‘you blew up 83% of Bristol waah’ stfu and fucking rebuild it?? It’s only rich mfs that live there, it’s just a matter of them opening their fucking wallets’ once a new recruit made the mistake of asking if robin had adult supervision regularly and Tim responded with ‘well if you’re gonna snitch to cps like a little bitch then yeah’ and that cop did snitch so tim fucking doxxed him

Yj has just accepted that sometimes they will find tim in an air vent, on the roof, in one of their closets, or something just fucking knocked out then an alarm will go off and he’ll just get up like nothing happened but for the first couple of months they were probably concerned bc ‘I’ve never seen you sleep?? wtf are you on man’ and Tim’s confused bc ‘I slept next to you this morning wdym??’ and that’s how yj discovers tim sleeps with his eyes open

But one of the worst things about Tim’s ‘time efficient sleep schedule’ nonsense is that it fucking works he’s one of the most well rested and coherent bats even after back to back Arkham breakouts however the absolute worst thing about his sleep schedule is the likelihood of going into the cave and seeing tim staring in a daze but wide eyed yet somehow never blinking at the batcomputer with 57 tabs open on top of being unresponsive and thinking he has a fucking concussion or he’s been replaced but he’s just doing case work while muttering nonsense in his fucking sleep for some reason

[eudociacovert]

Headcanon: every time Lockwood squeezes through a legal loophole there's an angry call from a Very Important Person to a lawyer, and then a mad scramble to figure out if he actually obeyed the law or not. So now there's a gaggle of paralegals from Problem focused law firms that follow Lockwood and Co's exploits in the papers so they can feel forewarned/know when to call in sick to work

[biffybobs]

"Mum... do you think you could make me some pancakes? I'm suddenly starving."

"I'm so proud of you, baby." 🥰🥰🥰

[maximura]

KCON LA: 27th July 2024

[billpottsismygf]

Doctor Who: The Pyramids of Mars / The Devil's Chord

Bonus foreshadowing: The Pyramids of Mars / The Legend of Ruby Sunday

[biteofcherry]

No wonder I slept so long today. Dreams about heavily tattooed, mob boss Bucky being your husband, who has found you after a year and a half since you left him, will do that to you.

[arbiterlexultionis]

Shoot for the moon, wind up amongst the Stars

So, obviously Danny loves space. Exploring it, experiencing all it has to offer, being among the first humans to step foot on other worlds, taking off in a rocket on a mission to take one small step for man has been his dream ever sense he was old enough to even know what it meant to dream. Danny is also a Fenton, and regardless of what his grades may say he’s smart, really Really smart. To an absurd degree, even for a Fenton, especially in matters of engineering. Blueprints were his picture books, college textbooks his bedtime stories and his parents old recordings of their Ivy League college engineering courses his Saturday morning cartoons. Even if he didn’t have the actual strength neccisary to do it he practically knew how to pull apart an engine before he had a good enough comprehension the the English language to give a half decent explanation of what an engine is. Each and every part known and understood on the deepest level possible, moving in his mind exactly as they should before he could even spell their names. A six year old Jazz damn near had a stroke when she found her two year old brother that she promised to protect from her parents weird Sci-Ance pulling apart the microwave and figuring out how to use the magnetron to send signals that he could detect on the family computer. By the time Danny was in “real” classes in elementary and moving onto middle school he was more than capable of helping his parents pull apart thrown away technology too piece together wonderful machines, and the only reason he didn’t was because he preferred to work on his own projects(It took Jazz nearly three hours to convince him that taking his homemade 7300 mW laser to school to make Dash stop shoving Tucker into lockers was a bad idea).

One night, Danny’s in phantom form flying through the sky’s of amity starring up into the endless inky black and blue of the night. Taking in the countless new details his enhanced physiology lets see, experience even without the aid of a telescope. Reminiscing about the dream he lost when he lost half his life. Mourning both those losses. Sure, he’s been to space but it’s not the same. He just sheds the pull of gravity and lets himself rise, it’s a magical experience in and of itself but it’s not the same as strapping himself into the spacecraft of his own design and embarking on a journey to the stars. It’s cheating. But it’s not like he’ll ever get the chance to experience the real deal, even if he could pass the physical there’s no way he could make it to NASA now that all his grades were in the toilet. And it’s not like he could achieve it in some other way, random civilians can’t just build spaceships in their basem…..

Danny stops mid air. He thinks. The specter speeder. Jack and Maddie built the specter speeder in their basement. Jack and Maddie built an honest to god spaceship in their basement. It could survive in the vacuum of space and under the weight of the ocean, operate in and out of atmosphere with or without gravity. It was a spaceship in every way that mattered, and they just Built It because they felt like it. And Danny was more than capable of producing technology of a similar level. He could do it, he could build a spaceship with his own two hands and let it carry him to the stars, to his dreams.

Danny’s rushing home before he even realizes he’s moving, a whirlwind around his room gathering up all his old designs, empty blueprints and reference materials. He spends more than an hour in a hyper focused state drawing up a slightly modernized, very Fentonized version of a Saturn V rocket. He’s barely a quarter of the way through the spitballing process of coming up with the design when he realizes he may or may not have over looked a very important part of the whole “screw it, I’ll do it myself” approach to getting to space, materials. There’s a limit to how many resources can go missing from his parents lab and how many charitable donations Vlad can generously(unknowingly) make to the cause before they all notice and start asking questions. So his designs are, unfortunately, put aside for the time being. He is disheartened for a moment, and in an attempt to cheer himself up he reaches for the nearest space themed entertainment he has, a Star Wars comic. The he stops, looks at the freighter on the cover of the comic. A lot of sci-fi ships are pretty small. Small enough to build without getting asked to many questions.

He spends the next several weeks tearing through as much sci-fi comics, movies and TV shows as he can, binge watching YouTube lore videos about Star Wars, Halo and who knows what else. After that, it’s time to get to work.

Weeks later, Lancer is standing on his porch on a nice, quite Saturday morning. It’s a habit he got into years ago, taking in the peace of his small little town in the early hours of the morning before it’s had a chance to wake up and start a ruckus, coming to appreciate and enjoy it even more now that ghost have been causing havoc and partaking in a little bit of bird watching while he’s at it. Slowly taking sips of his still far to hot cup of coffee, he stairs into the sunrise, taking in the countless colors and artfully blended shades. This is it. This is what he loves about his city. The quite beauty of it, so easy to miss and even easier to adore. What he loves about his job, the beauty of a new day, of the future, and all the possibilities it holds. Even if he does far to much work for far to little pay, it will all be worth it if even one of those students he has helped grow and learn go on to become doctors, police and engineers, saving lives and building the prosperous future they all deserve to live in. He breathes in, and then out. He is content.

A black spec appears on the horizon, undoubtably a flock of birds. Excellent. He begins to look through his binoculars, mentally trying to guess what species they’ll be when taking into account the time of year and day. He search’s through the sky for a moment, before going absolutely still. He lowers his binoculars and takes a long, long sip of his still scolding my hot coffee. It burns, he can feel pain, so he’s probably not dreaming. He looks back at the black spec in the distance, takes a long, hard look at it through his binoculars. It is still very much not a flock of birds. His is now 99% positive that it is exactly what it looks like. He breaths in, breathe out. He is no longer content.

Ten seconds later the easily identifiable UFO flys directly over his house, the iconic and extraordinarily loud screech of an imperial TIE fighter following it. His car’s alarm blares, as do the alarms of nearly every other car on the street, which is almost loud enough to mask the sound of alarms going off on the neighboring streets. He turns around, and walks back inside. Stops at the whiteboard he has hung on the wall by the door.

‘Note to self- give Mr. Fenton detention on Monday. P.S. bring a pack of disposable face masks and warn him of the dangers of flying a high tech spaceship where federal agents can look through the cockpit window and see him piloting it.’

At the very least he needs to tint the windows. Maybe make the window a one way mirror, and add some chrome detailing while painting the rest of the craft vanta black? That would surely look. (he glances at the guide to being hip for the unhip he has laying on his counter still open from last nights reading) Sick? Yes, it would surly look sick. He should also probably try and talk him into adding some cameras and such to the thing, that dome window has to have terrible visibility. At least a backup camera so he can parallel park and keep and eye out for any fighters trying to line up shots behind him.

[souporwholock]

Let's just take a moment to appreciate that horrifying shot of the TARDIS just standing there. Menacingly. Something I was not aware it could do and never want to see again

[worstwolverinesbf]

hear me out, hear me out!!!!! ruby’s the goddess of life coz like death needs an opposite and as much as i think the doctor could be the god of life, no. he’s connected with time and if anything, they bring death. its fucking ruby, shes the god of life.

[brewed-pangolin]

MDNI 18+

Gym Rat Soap is so outrageously possessive of you that if he comes home to you pleasuring yourself, he takes it as a personal challenge and will go out of his way to make you come solely for him.

And he's not holding back. He'll pull out all his pleasure tricks (except pulling out. That's a possessive no no.)

He starts with his usual tried and true method of fingering you so good against the wall that your legs turn to numbed jelly within minutes. Holding yourself up against his chest while you moan his name into the fabric of his sweat ladened shirt.

"Tha's it, bonnie. Ya come for me. And only me."

Next is his feast. Tossing you onto the dinner table like a sacrificial lamb and delving immediately between your thighs. Lapping at your folds like a starved and dehydrated animal. Hell bent on consuming you whole for his own pleasured ego while you cry his name to the heavens and writhe in steady overstimulation.

"Oh my God, Johnny!"

"No God 'ere, lass. Only me."

To finally close out his pleasured torture and culminate in his ultimate taking of you, he throws you over his shoulder and stomps his way to the bedroom to begin his pièce de résistance. Your calves hoisted onto his shoulders, his hands griping like a vice into the sides of your torso as he pistons his cock at just right angle, making you see stars and completely losing the capacity for speech and all other thoughts until all you could think of was him. And only him.

"Jo-, Jo-, John-"

"Tha's it. Say my name, bonnie."

"JOHNNY!"

And with a series of roars that would undoubtedly have the neighbors calling to report an escaped lion, he empties himself completely into the silken walls of your cunt. Marking you as his own as his hips falter. His hands grabbing at your limp form as he cradles you against his chest and reassures just how good you are for him. For him. And only him.

Gym Rat Soap Masterlist

[yandere-sins]

Yo, Sunday drip marketing, Capitano leaks that make him so much hotter and gives him more depth and horror that will fit into my writing... if they announce Scar WuWa to be playable, too, I'll just fucking combust I can't handle all these news WHAT IS GOING ON

[tinytowns]

JUNHUI  ✶  ALLURE