#there may be a fic soon

[wandixx]

I've seen a lot of different takes on Fear Toxin/other fear causing stuff (Yellow Lanterns Ring or something)(later just called Fear Toxin cause I'm lazy) but here is another one.

Danny seems like he isn't affected by Fear Toxin because his biggest fear is that his accident changed him so much he is no longer human, he can no longer truly experience human things.

So when he gets lungful of fear Toxin, he feels normal. He was antsy before, because c'mon, it's a rogue attack but it's not worse. Or so he thought. Because the anxiety lingers. Not enough to register as abnormal just this slight hypervigilance that makes you see things about yourself and your surroundings that you'd never realize otherwise. He'd realize he doesn't blink as often. He'd realize that if he doesn't consciously focus, he sometimes seems to not touch the ground. Forgets to breathe. He can't feel his own pulse at time. He'd realize people will miss him when he's walking down the street as if he was invisible (people just don't care about everyone they pass by). When he'd look straight into his reflection, he'd look slightly to the left. Not enough to actually name anything that was wrong but just stretched enough to fall on the wrong side of the uncanny valley. If he just caught his reflection in the peripheral vision, it'd be vaguely shadowy creature with glowing green eyes and white smoke instead of hair. Overall he'd be just wrong enough to be distinctly not human.

For everyone else, he'd be just a dude. Literally couldn't find more normal dude than this dude. Will pass as absolutely normal human unless someone is specifically looking for ecto-ghost stuff. Even most magic users wouldn't clock him at the glance

Tldr: Fear Toxin makes Danny perceive himself as some sort of eldritch horror but not enough to make him believe he'd actually be affected, while from outside perspective he's Just A Dude™

[erinwantstowrite]

Erin the comparison of JL vs the Avengers to Camp Jupiter vs Camp Half blood is toooo accurate 😭

JL: There’s an established system in place and contingencies for every foreseeable scenario

Avengers: fuck it we ball

peter thinks that the Avengers have it all together because they're his teachers and they're constantly telling him to use his brain but it's really because they, for the first time, saw their own "fuck it we ball" mentality in a teenager, and thought "oh my god maybe that is like... super dangerous." like when a parent was younger and they partied a lot and sometimes got into dangerous situations and thought "this is normal" until they had a kid and they quickly realized "oh that's why my mom was insane."

that didn't make them any better, it just made them hypocrites. peter just doesn't know that because they act super responsible when he's around

[flockoff]

In a another world, Peak of Combat has a plot that involves Time Travel Shenanigans which puts V in one of the Funniest Situations.

[catharsis-in-a-bottle]

vetinari is fascinating because the patricianship really does not work with anyone else. like. it IS a seat of absolute power. he IS a tyrant. but he genuinely has the objective interest of the city at heart. he can hardly be self-serving as a leader because to him being self-serving means serving the city (insert that one post that theorized that vetinari was like the anthropomorphic personification of ankh-morpork, i can't remember who the op was). he's manipulative, he's an Assassin, he's purposely threatening and he has almost no true friends, AND he can also push the city in the right direction with such self-sacrificing directive that it shifts from the ankh-morpork of night watch to the better ankh-morpork of going postal (or the 'present' of night watch; idk, i think going postal is the latest version of AM i've read so far). in the hands of anyone with even a fraction of a percent more selfishness, the patricianship becomes a true tyranny. but because vetinari is such a weird bastard, what's broken starts to be fixed, rather than be built into something that consolidates his power. si non confectus, non reficiat, but also whatever the latin is for i'm on an altar for this monster of a city

[envy-of-the-apple]

if Nanami is a vampire what fantasy creature would Gojo be? 🤔

…..ok ok ok hear me out:

[yukipri]

lmao of course now i try to update fic, and AO3 is down😂💀

Override chapter finally done with editing, it'll go up whenever the site's back🙃

AO3's status:

[mamawasatesttube]

i went down a brief rabbit hole earlier about horribly embarrassing pet names for timkon fake marriage fic possibilities (more on this in a few days). now i present to you: the highlights from a couple of lists i found on dating websites that, yes, really, were suggesting these as potential names to call your actual real-life partner.

binky

sexy beast

mcdreamy

mcsteamy

tater tot

love professor

macho mack

schmoopy

cookie-kiss

nutter butter

hubba bubba

pickle

num nums

sheriff

sir loves-a-lot

hunk-a-lunk

little muppet

ms. luscious lips

goofo

and my personal favorite,

captain hottie pants

[violent138]

Might write a fic where Dick from a different universe accidentally universe-jumps and runs into Jason, who's still the younger brother he's on pretty great terms with, and tries to discreetly puzzle out how his Jason becomes Red Hood while trying get back and Jason plays along, nearly totally convinced that this isn't the Dick he knows, especially once he dials Bludhaven, but it's immensely funny convincing this far more trusting and close version of his brother that in this world, Bruce has gone evil and Jason's one of the only people working to stop him.

[instantartific]

Reflections

[frankiebirds]

I love this scene a lot and it lives in my head rent-free. I can't really think of another way to interpret it other than that this is elle telling reid that the reason he can't get a date isn't because of something wrong with him that he needs to change but simply because he doesn't ask people out (or, more broadly, lacks confidence).

I have seen some spencelle shippers read this as elle saying "hey. ask me out" but i disagree, not because i don't ship spencelle (i sort of do, elaboration in the notes) but for the following reasons:

I think elle would have realised very early on that if she was going to wait for reid to ask her out, she would be waiting years

i don't think she gives enough of a fuck about gender roles to wait for The Man to ask her out

she generally seems confident

i lean more towards her being very new to the BAU in the early episodes. I don't recall right now if there's an official anti-fraternization policy or if that's a fanfiction trope, but even if there isn't, entering a relationship with a coworker that early on is an easy way to mess up her career.

i think she was waiting until she was more established to start anything, but then, well, everything happened, and she left before becoming established enough to feel comfortable taking a risk like that

[dayas]

4 + klonnie, esp if in a TO rewrite! 💞

4 ⧽. kissing in the middle of an argument.

THIS IS SOOOO GAGGY EXACTLLYYY OMG

It’s been awhile since I’ve watched TO so bare with me 🙏🏽

—

New Orleans had become Bonnie Bennett’s home. The last time she’d considered a place home, her grandmother had been alive. It was a long time since then, but she finally felt like she found a place she truly belonged. Naturally, she was absolutely livid about being asked to leave.

“No! Klaus, I am not going anywhere.”

It was pure misfortune that Klaus Mikaelson remained unearthly beautiful even in the fits of rage he currently displayed.

“It’s not up for discussion, little witch.”

He hadn’t lost it, not yet, but she could see the anger burning brightly behind his dark blue eyes.

“The hell it isn’t! You know how important it is for me to be here. The witches, the coven, all of it. I can handle anything that comes my way.”

His laugh was harsh, sardonic.

“Really? Anything? Tell me, darling, can you handle armies of witches, vampires, and werewolves, all coming, ready to tear you limb from limb? Can you handle a relentless onslaught from them at all hours of the day and night, the manifestations of their hatred and hunger for power? Can you handle your so-called old friends returning and joining them, facing off against you because of where you align yourself now? Tell me, my dearest Bonnie, truly, can you handle it?”

“Yes I can!”

She didn’t care that she was shouting now. It felt good to shout, to scream out her emotions. Mystic Falls never gave her enough space to breathe. In New Orleans, she could scream her lungs out and keep coming up for air after if she wished to.

“Just because you don’t care for your own life does not mean others share the sentiment!”

He was shouting too now, and some sick, twisted part of her enjoyed it. She enjoyed the fact that she could anger the Hybrid King, that she alone could produce such heightened emotions from him. Maybe that’s why she’d come closer with every word, and why she held herself so straight as she neared him, yelling out, “Enlighten me, then! What exactly do you care for?”

Klaus’s gaze lit itself on fire. Bonnie’s eyes widened. His hands came up to her face, he pulled her in, and kissed her. She was frozen in shock for a single second. Then, she kissed him back with everything she had in her, clutching him as close as she could to her. They broke apart but he kept her flush against him, his forehead touching hers lightly.

“I’m staying,” Bonnie whispered, “I’m not going anywhere. Not without you.”

“Bonnie — ” Klaus murmured, strained.

“No. We rule here. They will not chase us out.” She took his hand carefully, placing it between them to rest on her stomach. His fingers caressed the fabric, brushing back and forth over it.

“If they come for one of us, they are coming for all of us now.” She felt his sigh stir her hair, his palm flattening out against her belly.

“Then we will raze them all to the ground.”

That smile she loved, maniacal and bloodthirsty, rose into his lips.

Her own followed with it.

[just-french-me-up]

If you'd still like Dreamling kiss prompts, how about 7 or 17?

@martybaker asked : Hello, your fics are so lovely! May I humbly request ‘A kiss to shut them up’ if you’re still taking prompts? 👉👈 @anonymous asked : Thoughts on dreamling 7 or 17 (to shut them up or to distract - maybe even both at once?) for the kiss prompts?

We're shutting him up, yall! This is a Retired!Dream one, in which Dream struggles with the human body and human condition, and can't see how he can measure up to his old self in Hob's eyes. Angsty you say? Deceivingly horny I raise you! I kept this sorta M rated but... hey if there's more to come *winkwink* who knows?

The human body was a curious thing. It required constant attention, fluids, fuel, maintenance, care. And yet it was so... limiting. Morpheus could still remember how it felt, to think of a place and feel the ground shift under his feet without ever having to move. There had been no hunger then. No thirst. No itching, for his skin had never had the notion that it could be too dry.

If he had ever felt those things, it had been because he had chosen to.

Now the world imposed itself to him, there wasn't much of a choice.

Urges baffled him the most. The dryness coating his mouth on a particularly hot day, his mind conjuring up images of cold, condensation-weeping bottles. The drowsiness taking hold of him after dinner, weighing on his eyelids. The burning, devouring heat flaring in his abdomen as Hob would step out of the shower, a towel lazily tied around his hips, the line of hair trailing down his navel guiding Morpheus' gaze downwards.

It was a strange thing, to be overcome by such sensations. An infuriating thing, really. He ought to be able to resist them. He had been able to resist them, once, to ignore them, dismiss them into nothing if he so chose. How vexing it was, to be a creature of wants and needs, when your existence had been nothing but careful control.

He would not tell Hob, but he could not help but feel... lesser. How clever could his mind be, now that he only had access to his own? How good could his hands be, he who had been able to breathe life into dream clay, fashion lands and castles with a single thought? How pleasing could his touch be, now that he was barred from his lover's unconscious? How could he compare to who and what he had been, once?

They had not made love ever since his encounter with the Kindly Ones. Hob had never pushed, reading Morpheus far better than Morpheus ever could, now. There had been times, here and there, when Morpheus had thought they would, with lingering kisses growing deeper, embraces in bed tighter, but something had held him back. Some bitter gnawing feeling at the pit of his stomach. Yet another thing he could not seem to control.

Yet he wanted. Desperately, frustratingly so. The most mundane things would strike him as the most erotic sights he could fathom. Hob drinking his coffee in the morning, his Adam's apple bobbing as he'd swallow. Hob reading the day's papers, his gaze intent, focused. Hob reaching up to grab this or that from a cupboard, his shirt riding up and showing his navel, while his tired pajama bottoms hung from his hips, revealing the slight dips there, a hint of hair...

Morpheus' body would betray him often, subjecting him to fantasies and erections that, much like the rest, he held little control over. Unlike food, lust was a hunger he never seemed to satisfy. It only grew.

If Hob had ever caught him staring, he never said anything. Instead, he was highly skilled at noticing when Morpheus' mind would start spinning on itself, feeding the loop of existential dread looming over him. He had taken to giving Morpheus tasks, then, something to focus on. Although it would not quite clear the storm, it muffled it somewhat.

Perhaps he'd sensed another one of Morpheus' spirals that night, when his voice rose from the bedroom.

"Oh, bollocks! Love? Might need a hand here."

As he stepped inside the bedroom, Morpheus found Hob standing by the mirror, struggling with his button-up. He flashed a quick contrite smile at him, emphatically tugging at the fabric.

"Can't manage to button those buggers off," he explained.

"Allow me."

The human condition was one thing, but buttons he could handle. Morpheus' touch was methodical, surgical almost, as he focused on the task at hand, yet three buttons later, he could not help but feel his focus slip. He could feel Hob's warmth under his fingertips. His heartbeat. As he breathed in, Hob's scent filled his lungs, distracting him further. By the time he was done with the shirt, his mind had gone elsewhere.

Hob wore an undershirt, a thin, almost see-through thing. It required barely any effort to see his chest in spite of the fabric. Morpheus' eyes trailed down, heat flushing his cheeks. Mindlessly, his thumb traced the line of hair down Hob's abdomen, his mouth filled with want. He could feel hot breath against his lips. Humans were not meant to withstand such hunger.

They were kissing before Morpheus could articulate another thought, Hob's mouth warm and soft against his, the coarse brush of his stubble adding fuel to the fire overtaking him. No doubt Hob had meant for this to be tender, but Morpheus was famished, taking, and taking, and taking all that was offered until his lungs might explode. He found himself gasping against Hob, nose to nose, forehead to forehead.

"Hey," Hob whispered, gentle to a fault. "It's okay. There's no rush."

Morpheus swallowed hard, feverishly catching his breath. Hob's palm was invitingly cool against his cheek.

"I will keep," he continued. "We don't have to―"

"I want to," Morpheus rasped, weeks of frustration pushing the words out of him. "I want you. I just―"

"Just what?"

The patience in his voice was the lifeline Morpheus held onto as he sighed, embarrassment flooding through him.

"This form, it feels... finite. Flawed. Lacking."

Fallible, he did not say. He watched as Hob's eyes grew round, ridicule joining embarrassment.

"Duck―"

"I am not as I once was," he continued, overcome with the need to justify himself. "I am no longer suited to anticipate your every want. I can not satisfy you to the degree I once could. Everything I have to offer is bound to disappoint in comparison."

Hob's stare felt heavy, too heavy for Morpheus to hold, but as he looked away, Hob took his chin between his fingers, directing his gaze back to him.

"Love, I―. Sex is not about making some kind of... of ranking."

"Your unconscious would rank it, regardless."

"Fuck my unconscious. It's my conscious self who wants you, magic dick or not."

The corners of Hob's mouth twitched at his own joke, but seriousness soon took over.

"I love you," he said, prompting Morpheus to look away again. "I love you. I would love you Endless, I would love you human, I would love you if you were a tentacled monster and hell, you've been that before if you'd recall!"

Morpheus fought back the smile creeping up on his lips.

"I never cared how we'd fuck. Well, I did, but― I did because it was you. I wanted to be with you. I still do."

Hob sighed, and they stood in silence for a moment, looking at each other.

"At least now we know that mind of yours is well and truly yours and not a Dream of the Endless exclusive."

"An unfortunate discovery."

Hob's hand settled on Morpheus' waist, his thumb brushing the fabric of his shirt.

"I do want you," he said. "Whenever you're ready. If ever. But I don't want you holding back because you've convinced yourself I may not enjoy it well enough, according to some cosmic standard you've set for yourself."

Morpheus nodded slowly, his own thumb back to tracing the happy trail on Hob's stomach.

"I have always found you pleasing enough, after all," he dared, shooting a tentative look at Hob. "As human as you are."

Hob made a face, pulling him closer by the waist.

"Your compliments need work, duck. But I do think there's a silver lining to this whole human condition you are overlooking."

"Is that so?"

Hob smirked at him, fully conscious of how devilishly handsome that made him. He had had, after all, centuries to hone those skills. How long would it take him?

"You no longer have access to my unconscious, right?"

"I do not."

"Which means you can no longer anticipate my every want, as you said."

Now that was rubbing salt into the wound.

"Yes," he conceded with a frown.

"Well imagine how arousing it is, my love," Hob said, his eyes darker by the second, "to be able to surprise you."

A warm shiver went down Morpheus' spine, sending his pulse into a frantic race. He swallowed thickly, holding Hob's gaze.

"How arousing?"

"Very. Cock-achingly, one might say."

Morpheus glanced down, finding Hob's trousers tight, his hard cock pressing against the fabric, making his knees weak. The human body truly was weak in the most delicious way.

"I could dare you to surprise me," he teased back, his breathing loud in his ears.

"You could."

Gods, that mouth of his, Morpheus was quite certain he could be undone from that tone alone. But still.

"But should you find me displeasing, you ought to―"

The rest of his words were swallowed into a kiss, unheard and discarded, replaced by tender sighs and wanting hands, and after a while, Morpheus found he'd forgotten what they even were, his mind blissfully blank save for pleasure.

The human body was a curious thing. A highly pleasing thing, at times.

Send me a kissing prompt?

[hopelessromantic5]

Sappy Merthur clip

One of them was drunk, here’s a hint. It was not Arthur.

“Merlin.” The King greeted from his desk. Only able to see aforementioned man as a silhouette in the shadows. “I wasn’t expecting to see you again tonight. God knows every time one of the knights goes off with Gwaine for the evening, I don’t see them again until the next sunrise, looking green at the gills.” He smiled small, fondness slowly seeping through him at the thought of his knights. The one’s who fought beside him because they believed in the world he could build.

“M’not one of your knights.” Merlin mumbled, still hesitating to move further into the room where Arthur would see him in the candlelight.

At the slight slur of his speech, Arthur truly looked and saw the way Merlin’s body was being held up by the door, his shoulders dropped, instead of up around his ears in worry.

“You’re drunk, is what you are.” Arthur had to keep in a laugh that bubbled in his chest, lest that be the one thing Merlin remembered tomorrow.

“I am not drunk.” He tried to state.

“Oh, yeah? Come here, then.”

Silence followed his request.

And then shuffling. Merlin lifted his weight off the solid wooden door and slowly made his way across the room.

When he stood a few feet from Arthur’s desk, and remained silent, Arthur poked, gently, enjoying way too much how pink Merlin’s cheeks were even, in the cold stages of autumn outdoors.

“To what do I owe the honor, Emrys?”

Merlin’s skin flared more red than pink, as he fiddled with the edges of loose parchment.

Finally, he shrugged, met Arthur’s piercing gaze and whispered.

“Just wanted t’see you, I guess.”

[demonslayedher]

I finished posting the unabashedly educational Sword Fic.

It includes a detailed (but hopefully beginner-friendly) explanation of all the steps of making a Nichirin blade from a sunny mountain like Mt. Youkou, a touch of swordsmith and metalworker folk lore (including demons), meta about what must make Kimetsu no Yaiba's swordsmithing methods different from real life methods, some character exploration for Haganezuka and his polishing method, vocabulary and additional resources in the chapter notes, and hopefully, an endearing, silly POV character to learn this all through.

[demenior]

ao3 user unfortunatelyevent suggested Jester should be wearing a hat that says 'evil aligned wizards want AND fear me' on my fic 'a heart that howled' and i couldn't get the image out of my head

[iron-bullogna]

my durge Sanctus with Gale courtesy of @tadpole-apocalypse 💜

in my fic series Sanctus collects various books to try and rouse memories of his past life but struggles to read them due to his headaches so Gale selflessly volunteers to help