#totally not late with this

[lollitree-art]

Happy 10 year anniversary to Pokemon X&Y!

[magentasnail]

long distance

[blackkatdraws2]

[Toon x Mobster] Chapter 1: First encounter.

Next - (chapter list) / (AO3 ver)

Jack Desmond was running under the heavy rain with a bag over his head, as he had given his umbrella to an old lady on his way home. It was an act of generosity that wasn't out of place in the whimsical place of cartoons.

He almost missed the dark shape sprawled out in an alleyway. Nothing too unusual, maybe some ne'er-do-wells or a goofy character caught in some mishap, but somehow, his gut told him that it felt different. Disturbingly out of place.

Faintly, his nose picked up on a worrying scent. Hesitant yet worried, he trudges closer, his shoes being tainted with red as he knelt down beside the dark figure. “Hey, buddy, you alright?” he called out, voice full of concern. His fingers tentatively touched the man’s shoulder.

Jack gasped, pulling his hand back quickly. His fingers were smeared with something deeply red and thick. His brain slowly processes what he's seeing, unbelieving. With the scent being washed down by the heavy rain, he pulls his palm closer to his nose to take a sniff.

His spine crawls and he jolts up, confused eyes shaking yet staying transfixed on the injured person as he stumbles backwards. He takes a closer look at the man's face- or, just his entire self for that matter. Staring back at him was a foreign face twisted into a harsh scowl, unconscious. Deep scars crisscrossed his face, making him look rather villainous.

This guy wasn’t a Toon. The thick dark coat, those scars- the blood. This man was from another Genre, one that didn’t belong in their streets of lighthearted fun.

His eyes caught sight of the gun tucked into the man’s coat, confirming Jack’s fears.

He's a Grim… perhaps a Guktav member?

The Guktav is one of the biggest and most influential criminal syndicates in the Grim genre where this gloomy-looking person probably came from. These men were dangerous, he'd better make a run for it just in case the assailant of this scene was still nearby.

Unsettled and too riddled with uncertainty and fear, he'd planned to just mind his own business and skedaddle… but his foot stayed planted where they stood, eyes transfixed on the wounded Grim man.

The more he stared, the more the puddle of blood spread.

The rain made the blood travel to the soles of his shoes quicker, and Jack’s stomach churned. He’d never seen anything like this before, not in this city. Life here has always been peaceful and non-life threatening despite the slapstick gags of silly violence people were hit with, but this? This wasn’t funny. This sight made his innards twist.

Jack glanced down at his palms, still stained with blood. The rain hadn’t washed it away, no matter how hard it came down. Starting to get a bit dizzy, he slowly starts to walk away.

Authorities… He should go call the authorities.

…

His feet stops not too far away, and the rain comes down harder than before.

"…Oooh-! Applesticks!" Jack curses, turning back with a huff and stomping back towards the man. “This is a bad idea.” He muttered to himself, shaking his head as he bent down again-

Jack's heart nearly leapt out of his chest when the man's gruff hands grabbed unto his arms and pulled him down, bloodshot eyes glaring straight at him. Jack's legs felt weak, his knees buckling and harshly hitting the bloody floor, terrified as the man's stare told him all he needed to know.

Do anything bad and he'd kill him.

The man's eyelids twitched, pupils rolling back. His large body collapsed on top of the smaller man, making Jack stutter as he fell on his bum, unable to balance himself. Jack lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding, staring at the unconscious man lying limp on his stomach, staining Jack's suit with his blood.

Jack Desmond swallows hard, his heart wavering. Should he really do this?

[This chapter has been edited.] _

Next - (chapter list)

[soupdwelling]

she’s in way too deep i fear

[soappbar]

MOB PSYCHO CHRISTMAS ANIMATIC THAT IS DEFINITELY NOT ONE MONTH TOO LATE!!! WOOO YAAYY

[tsuyalovebot]

make him lose his cool.

suggestive and sexual content. mdni, ageless blogs dni.

xia yi zhou / caleb x reader.

cw. drabble (~1k wc, written in one sitting. ignore any typos.) no sex, but caleb popping a boner like a victorian man. afab reader (that also wears bras). mc=reader.

"caleb is an ass man!" "no, he likes tits!"

personally, i think caleb would have a near panic attack upon seeing your shoulder, elbow, or ankle.

he just does a really good job of pretending he doesn't mind it. after all, the two of you grew up together. he's had to put his hands on you many times — carrying, tending to scrapes and cuts, tickling you, ruffling your hair, squeezing your face. skinship was a language that the two of you were plenty fluent in.

but the year spent apart failed to maintain this, like some half-assed video streaming subscription, and caleb's the newborn fawn learning how to walk.

so what happens when he knocks on the room to his bedroom — it belongs to you now, technically — with a plate of breakfast before coming in, and he witnesses you sitting up, all sleepy and the neckline of his shirt slightly sliding down your shoulder?

he's going to throw himself off a cliffside. maybe even off skyhaven itself.

the plate hits the bedside table on your side with a loud clatter. none of the food spilled over, luckily. he has half a mind to garble some lame excuse about being busy and a quick good morning before trying to bolt.

but, caleb nearly snaps into two when you tug at the hem of his shirt, slumber still slurred in your words as you ask where he's going. there'd been no strength in that tug. yet, he stopped in his tracks all the same. he ends up listening to your grumbles, ones reminding him that it's his day off, remember? you promised you'd spend it with me.

"i gotta take a shower first," he chuckles, hoping his voice wasn't too shaky. please don't notice. please don't notice.

"but caleb," you keen.

god, it's like when he'd take leave from the academy for a few days just to go back to you and gran. always coming home to you, thoroughly acquainted with you not being a morning person but still making the effort to cling to him and savor every second you two spent together.

he assumed it would be the same now, but clearly, that was a mistake. because the coiling tension of warmth threatening to boil over in his stomach was nothing short of treacherous.

caleb does manage to escape; albeit pained by the half-awake whines behind him and the sound of you falling back into bed. god, how badly he wanted to cave into your demands. you don't even know the half of it.

he wonders if you've ever curled into his side of that bed he once slept on, seeking his cologne, his body, his warmth the same way he looks for your silhouette in every corner of this home. a melody he knows, but a name he can't quite place in this shell of a house that transformed in your presence.

regardless, it's really difficult to let this relationship rebuild organically when he was popping a boner over the slightest sliver of skin. the shower's streams are icy on his skin, the impromptu bath having thrown a wrench into his morning routine. he refuses to even touch himself. letting the proof of his sin soften under the biting cold of the water, despite the discomfort.

because nothing was more horrific than having his body react to you like a prepubescent teen discovering porn online for the first time.

caleb thinks he's safe after spending an hour in the bathroom, fingertips pruned and mind cooler than the iciest of planets. but as he's changed back into his clothes, he discovers you beside the door, a blanket around your sitting form and those eyelids droopy.

"pipsqueak? what're you doin' here?" he's crouching down — mortifying boner forgotten as he gathers you into his arms before he realizes it.

then, you stir. a whine muffled into the crook of his neck as you wrap your arms around him, the vibration seeming to ripple down his spinal column. the blanket falls from your body in the motions, and you're so soft compared to the firmness of his body.

his arms tighten around you on instinct and you let out a pleased sound and—

he stiffens. you weren't wearing a bra.

"caleb, you're done." you yawn, like the spoiled, pampered figurehead of royalty you are. you arch up into him, and he swears he feels several of his neurons die, dropping like flies in the empty cavity of his head.

"take me back to bed." he feels the air shift as you seem to inhale his scent. your voice softer, more content when you say, "i wanna sleep some more."

he's so fucking doomed.

[kosalus]

happy (late) valentine's day to my beautiful wife camilla hect

[bluetaho]

When disco plays our tune!

Closeups and no gradient version!!

[starry-bi-sky]

don't you want to be a cult leader? - danyal al ghul au

this is mostly a joke post but i thought it was funny and had to share so--

his first mistake was, obviously, inheriting his father's inability to see an injustice and stand still. -- actually, danyal's first mistake was his lair being so big. a mountainous island with a large temple in the center resembling his old home in Nanda Parbat? With sprawling foliage and rivers and streams and waterfalls galore? What was he going to do with all that space? Let it go to waste? He had plants there! Native trees of the ghost zone growing from the soil! He couldn't let it all be left unchecked!

So naturally after helping a fellow teenage assassin ghost -- who he later learns is named Akihiko, -- from Walker of all people, he sent them over to hang low at his lair until it was safe enough for them to wander around the Zone. Walker couldn't get through Danyal's astrofield if his life depended on it, and trust him -- he's tried. Danny was clearing out debris from his stupid transport vans for weeks.

Honestly it wasn't so bad, he and Aki really quickly became fast friends and Danny loves having a sparring partner close to his level again -- he hasn't had this much fun fighting since he left the League. Aki was very dedicated and levelheaded, the both of them clicked really well because of it.

Nonono, the real trouble began after Danyal met some long-passed League members and allowed them to come join his island as well. Apparently they had made a few enemies of the zone, and maybe Danyal still felt some loyalty to the League. He couldn't just let them be left to rot. Their zealotry could be overlooked so long as they kept it contained and helped him take care of his island.

And it.. snowballs from there? He meets a teen squire aptly calling himself Ambroise -- whether that was his living name or not is yet to be seen -- who died during feudal france, who is just about as dramatic and passionate as every french stereotype makes them out to be. He calls Danyal "my moon and great muse" -- which is both flattering and little uncomfortable, but Danyal's grown up in the League as the Grandson of the Demon Head, he is used to mild worship. he passes it off as nothing more, nothing less. -- and while his energy is overwhelming on the worst of days, he helps Danny draw out of his shell more in ways that Sam and Tucker still struggle with.

Him and Aki butt heads a lot, but the two seem to hold the other in at least some positive regard, so Danny doesn't worry too much about them fighting while he's gone. It only becomes a mild issue when Aki also begins calling Danny "my moon". It's a little sweet, so Danyal brushes it off.

Then he takes in a troupe of ghosts some time after he defeats Pariah Dark and they begin calling him "great one" just as the yetis do in the far frozen. This is where he meets the twins -- a pair of sibling ghosts who call themselves Trixie and Missy (short for Trick and Mislead) -- who aren't quite as passionate as Ambroise but more energetic than Aki. Eventually they also start calling Danyal "my moon" and attach themselves to his hip, even within the living. They like to hide in his shadow and cause trouble for the rest of the students. He makes sure they don't hurt anyone.

He's pretty sure Aki is jealous, same with Ambroise, but he can't be too certain other than the fact that they become much more lingering (re: clingy) whenever he visits the island.. Something he's trying to do much more often these days due to the increasing amount of people living there now. Since when did he become so popular?

Then there's Pēnelópeia from the Greater Athens, who ran away from home and joined his Island after he ran into her while she was being chased by Skulker -- and he's pretty sure the reason was because of her chimeric appearance. Her strange eyes and mismatched wings and lion's tail and talons. She assimilates into his friend group very easily, she gets along well with Ambroise and Trixie and Danny usually finds the three of them climbing the trees to pluck the most fruit from the top. They can fly and he knows it, but they prefer to climb.

Then finally there's silent poet Akkara who comes from ancient mesopotamia, who gets along most with Aki -- which is no surprise there considering their similar personality dispositions. he watches Aki and Danyal fight each other and leaves comments on this or that that he notices. He writes Danyal poems on clay tablets and leaves them by his room.

They're one big mismatched group of outcasts, and Danny's got the other ghosts on his island to tend to, because they're living on his island and he wants to be hospitable even if he struggles with that. But he spends the most of his time with them.

Sam and Tucker are making fun of him. Tucker jokingly tells him 'careful Danny, at this rate you're gonna start a cult'. Danny really wishes he had taken that joke more seriously.

He just. keeps. collecting people. Wayward souls lost in the zone, looking for shelter or refuge from something or other -- whether that be another hostile ghost, or a past afterlife, or just a purpose. Danyal finds them, he takes them in, offers them a place on his island until they are ready to leave. Many seldom do. He's not complaining -- he has the space, and it feels like it's only ever growing.

His close friends, his "inner circle" as he's heard the others call them, keep insistently calling him "my moon". He starts calling them his stars, because then it only feels fair. They're his stars, this is his constellation. It becomes a thing; little star halos begin forming behind their heads, picking them out from the rest. He loves them so much, it's hard to place. Sam and Tucker are also his stars, but they reside in the living realm, they're his tie to Life. Meanwhile, his friends here know what it's like to be dead, and sometimes its nice to relate.

Those living on his island keep calling him "Great One" and he's beginning to notice zealotry in their care for his island. He really, deeply appreciates it. His close friends gain nicknames -- as his stars, it's only natural for him to pick them out from the cluster in the skies. Akihiko, his Sirius and bright star. Trix and Missy, Castor and Pollux, the twins and troublemakers. Ambroise, his zealous Antares and close friend. Penelopeia, chimeric and loyal Vega. And Akkara, his Arcturus and strength.

It's ridiculous how long it takes for him to notice; he is, of course, a deadly trained assassin. He is meant to be observant -- and normally he is! But somehow this becomes a blind spot. One that becomes too big to be dealt with by the time he realizes it.

He should've noticed when Aki, his Sirius, stood beside him one day while Danyal looked over his island and saw the sprawling spirits carrying on about their afterlife and bowing to him as they saw him, and said: "I looked down into the depths when I met you; I couldn't measure it." They aren't one for flowing prose, it took him so off guard he was silent for over a minute before he finally spoke.

Danyal should've recognized devotion for what it is, and yet he didn't. He should've recognized it when Antares began spouting praises about him, crowing about his radiance and resplendence to the heavens. He just brushed it off as Ambroise being Ambroise. He should've recognized it when Trix and Missy nearly broke Dash's leg after he knocked Danyal's books out of his hands, he excused it as them being protective. Of them coming from times where such violence may have been customary -- after all, that's what he used to be like. What he was still like, sometimes, when his emotions nearly got the better of him.

He should've noticed it when the people living on his island followed his word like gospel, looked at him like he hung the stars in the sky. When his friends gifted him a shawl with the moon phases delicately embroidered into it, with silver, shimmering thread and moving stars lovingly stitched into it. Their constellations seen clear as day in the dark fabric. When he found small shrines dedicated to him -- but they lacked any image of him beyond stones carved to look like moons, so he ignored it. When the religious imagery began popping up.

He really, really should've noticed it when a bunch of cultists accidentally summoned Antares, and Antares had turned to him when he arrived and called them heretics. But he was so centered on the fact that they had kidnapped one of his stars, that he hadn't paid much attention to what Ambroise had said.

Sages say that faith is blind, they should also say faith in you is even blinder.

It really only hits him one afternoon while he's sitting in Sam's room studying with Tucker, Missy and Trixie lounging at his feet, Aki sat on his right, Penelopeia braiding his hair, Ambroise draped against him, and Akkara lurking over him. Its one of the rare few times they're all in one room together.

It hits him like a bolt of lightning. He looks up from his textbook. "Oh Ancients," he says in no amounting shock. Everyone looks up to him.

"I've become my grandfather."

[ferncloud]

🌗 moonpaw

[koboldfactory]

uncertain death

[luminologism]

skytober day 17 - ancestor

with the rising moon, my heart is complete i'm your angel

[s0up1ta]

i hate them so much

[robo-writing]

Kinktober Day Nine: Origins! Logan - Face Sitting | Kinktober Masterlist |

The moment Logan walked through the door, smelling like a forest and just as dirty, you could tell you were in for it. Work boots heavy against the wood flooring, his footsteps your only warning before he grabs you from behind, pulling you close as he mumbles into your hair.

“Had a hard day at work?” You ask, and your answer is given by the groan he lets out, your fingers tangling into his.

“You’ve got no fuckin’ clue,” he sighs, turning you around. It’s now you can truly see the exhaustion on his face, soon overtaken by the lovesick look in his eyes. 

“Okay, how about I cook you dinner?”

“Nah, not what I’m really hungry for right now.”

Your giggle is infectious, a smile spreading across his face while he sheds himself of his vest. “Yeah? You liked that one?”

You nod, pulling him to your shared bedroom. “I did. So what exactly are you hungry for?”

A rhetorical question of course, because in the time it takes you to ask he’s already lifting you off the ground, carrying you to the bedroom with a renewed energy.

“Oh, you weren’t joking,” you gasp, falling to the bed unceremoniously. Logan stands before you, torso bare for your viewing pleasure, humming when your hand reaches to stroke his exposed abs, enjoying the scratch of your nails against his skin—until he pulls your hand away.

You’re confused, until he crawls over you and takes up residence between your legs. Inch by inch, his lips kiss a trail from your navel, lower and lower until he’s nosing at your cloth-covered pussy.

“Sorry baby, not in the mood to play with my food right now,” he says, pulling your underwear from your body. “Been thinking about you the entire car ride home.”

He looks like it too—from the lost expression in his face to how he shudders when his eyes lock onto your bare cunt, he’s practically drooling for a taste. And yet, he hasn’t moved yet.

Your anticipation is slowly turning to impatience, ready to ask him what’s wrong before his voice cuts into the silence, low and defined.

“Baby, do you think we could try something?”

You lean forward a bit, a bit curious. “Something new?”

“New position,” he mutters. “Something I’ve been thinking about for a while.”

Curiosity piqued, you nod your head and suddenly you’re being manhandled, lifted to sit on his torso while he makes himself comfortable below you.

He’s excited, you’re still confused. “Logan, what’s going on?”

His smile is all teeth, hands pulling you to his face with a yelp. “I want you to sit on my face.”

You and your husband are no strangers to an adventurous sex life, you’d be a fool not to take him up on any of his ideas involving sex, but this is certainly a new one.

You’re hovering over his face—hovering, because reality is setting in and your nerves are building. Logan looks up at you like he always does, just dying to taste you, tongue peeking through his lips, but you’re getting further and further into your head and he knows it.

His hands rub up and down your legs, palms engulfing the meat of your thighs. “Relax baby, I’ve got you.”

“Are you sure about this?” You ask, looking down at him nervously. “I don’t wanna hurt you—“

“You won’t, promise,” he answers, kissing at the bare skin of your thighs. 

“But this should be fine, right?” You nod towards your still-hovering form. “What if I crush you?”

“That’s not happening.”

“Yeah, but what if?”

He shakes his head, looking up into your eyes.“Oh no, don’t get shy on me now, sit on my face doll. I can handle the weight.”

The words are said with a smile, but you know that mischievous look anywhere, instinctively rising your hips at the same time he anchors his hands into them.

“Baby, hold on—“ You’re ready to argue but before you can get a word in his grip on your thighs tighten. 

“How many times I gotta tell you doll, when I say sit on my face—“ 

You’re dragged down suddenly, a yelp escaping you as he plants you where he wants you to be.

“—I mean sit on my fucking face.”

His super strength forces you still as he speaks into your cunt. His lips move as he speaks, tongue flat against your labia as he revels in the taste, groaning obscenely with each lick. Your shaky hands lock onto his for purchase and he fucking laughs into your pussy, the vibrations only serving to make you even more aroused.

“That’s more like it,” he says, voice muffled between your thighs. His tongue laps frantically, far too engrossed in you to pay attention to his cock standing at attention—you can tell he’s still talking, but none of it is legible between your moans and the sound of your pussy being eaten like Sunday dinner. 

You beg him for a break but he’s not listening—not when you taste like heaven and you’re moaning like a bitch in heat. The advantage is in his favor, unable to squirm away from him while he gorges himself on your cunt. At some point you give up trying to reason with him, bury your fingers in his dark hair and grind against him until his beard leaves your thighs raw.

A shake of his head, his fingers tightening on your thighs—his lips latching onto your sensitive clit and holding you still as you thrash in his hold. Your orgasm takes you by surprise, a scream ripping from your throat before lethargy takes over, almost falling if not for your husband holding you up.

It’s only now he dares to lift his head from between your thighs, face red and soaked from his chin down. He kisses at your legs, your pussy, anywhere he can reach—whether it’s in apology or worship, you can’t tell, but you know that when his thumb spreads open your poor, abused cunt that he’s not finished.

[v-albion]

Happy (late) Pride!!!

Ps. Lee was 6 years old when Big Mama rediscovered him. Before she found him, the staffs all refered to him as ‘the turtle’, ‘it’, or the occasional ‘she’ because of their only reference of turtle yokai, Frida, is female. When Mama had him examined, the doctor said he was assigned female. He was in the closet for about a couple year or so, and came out when he’s around 8. He’s currently 15 years old.

Masterpost

[multiversal-pudding]

A fun Danny Phantom idea:

One of those “mediums tormented by the fact they can’t turn Off the ability to see ghosts” types moves to Amity, and for the most part, it’s great! Like yeah maybe there’s still ghosts everywhere, but now they can react normally, because finally for once in their life everyone else sees the ghosts too. Granted, judging from what everyone else says it sounds like they’re seeing significantly tamer humanoid proper-manifestations than the near-incomprehensible masses of emotion, spectral energy, and whatever that particular spirit’s associated with they’re used to seeing, but eh- between how jaded they are to seeing stuff like that after all these years and the fact that in practice the response of “GTFO” tends to be applicable regardless of whether you’re dealing with a poltergheist in overalls who likes hucking boxes at people, a giant robot guy who’s yelling about world domination, or reality breaking fever dream vomit, it’s not too big a deal

…There’s just ooooone little problem

Which is that when people look at the Fenton’s youngest kid and when people see local town hero/cryptid The Phantom, clearly everyone ELSE is seeing two different people/entities, but in their case, all they see is the same wild plasma-lightning living tear in reality either way, and they’re afraid if they mix the two “identities” up they’re either A) gonna fuck up some poor kid’s life/put him and those around him in danger, B) piss off a very powerful spirit whose repeatedly proven why that’s a very bad idea, or C) both-

(Bonus points if it’s some completely mundane guy like Ted the Bus Driver/ the county deputy in training/ some poor janitor who’d be reasonably expected to come in contact with either one fairly frequently-)