#wrote this in a haze sorry

[tetzoro]

corrupted priest!crocodile who takes an interest in you the moment you walk through the cathedral doors, a saintly vision of purity that has his cock twitching in interest already.

the innocent, doe look in your eye was almost too good to be true. he’s never met someone so shy, so willing for guidance.

it was almost too easy to get you to kneel before him. after a few sessions in the confessional booth, he summons you to his office in hopes of helping you with addressing the urges you had been telling him about.

how you cling to sheets at night, writhing in pain as you yearn for pleasure — the pleasure of a man who isn’t your god. the one that would be close enough though, who will guide you in his name.

at least that’s how crocodile spins in, his deep, authoritative voice telling you that it’s okay to engage in these acts with him because he’s a disciple of god and of course that makes him trustworthy.

it’s how you find yourself on your knees, mouth full of his cock as he repeats bible verses to you, slowly pushing your head down further after he finishes each one.

even though your drooling all over him, gagging with each inch he shoves down your throat, it’s all in the name of god — you must repent for those vile thoughts you confessed to him only moments ago.

and when he cums, your mouth hanging open for him, tongue lolling out as your whispered prayers roll off of it, he baptizes you in a flood of his cum, washing over so you can begin again. as his.

amen.

[hellogoodbyeitsme]

Damian, still fresh to the family, but actually starting to warm up to the idea of them actually being his family, looks up online 'how to be a good little brother.'

He finds all sorts of things like, "using cuteness to get what you want from your elder siblings" (lame, no way that works) "fake extra tears when they punch you so your parents buy you icecream and whatever else you want" (why on EARTH would he want anyone think he could be so weak?) etc, but he also sees stuff about Pranks, sibling fights (in the sense of "you know they're real siblings because they'll throw hands one minute, then 5 minutes later be laughing watching tv together like nothing happened"), and concepts like Sibling Code (like, absolute secrecy between siblings toward their parents, threatening potential heartbreakers, etc).

Cue him pulling pranks, like leaving lego everywhere and waiting for his shoeless family to step on them, hiding things that the others need (like, right now), sneaking things into the batcave that shouldn't be in the batcave, throwing himself at his siblings to brawl without any reason and then promptly stopping also with no reason (and wondering why they won't spend time with him to bond afterward), planning out how to threaten a literal magic space princess (Kori, who would probably find it very cute if he actually made it that far), hiding Literally Very Important information about his siblings from Bruce and Alfred because he's not a snitch, and he is a great little brother. (he's going to get an A in Little Brother which is something totally normal to want and achieve)

He eventually gets BIG scolded for his constant misbehaviour, though. Bruce and Dick are asking why he's going off the rails so much when he doesn't even seem particularly angry anymore - in fact, sometimes he even seems fairly content! Is there an issue they're unaware of? Something he's not expressing to the family? They're not mad if there's a problem, they just want to help!

So, of course, he then has to embarrassingly explain that he was just following little brother protocol, according to.. the internet. He gets bullied about it for weeks by his elders (to different degrees), since the internet is not going to help anyone be a better sibling, but they also each try to explain (in their own ways) (their own waynes) why he was so, so very wrong about the way he approached being a good sibling, so he can hopefully improve at it (and stop terrorising the household).

(I saw a meme post about Damian putting legos all over the floor + hiding Tim's shoes to harm him and it made me think of the concept)

(Also once he learns that acting extra cute really can get him what he wants, he tries to use it now and then to his advantage, but is hilariously bad at doing it, since he doesn't really have a grasp on what makes a younger sibling cute (which is.... literally just existing,, according to me, a middle child). Lucky for him the others eat up every attempt because it's so obvious what he's doing that it becomes cute to them, so he doesn't need to get real practice with it until he tries to use it on a non-bat who laughs at him for far too long about it and thusly brews fire in him to go back to the pranks he tried at the start of the little brother training montage and show them real sibling pain for making a fool of him.)

[cringefailloserman]

When you stop moving and lie down for a moment, you can feel the blood pumping throughout your body. You can feel slight twitches and aches in your torso and limbs. Everything in your body is always moving.

What would it be like for William, for you, when it stopped? No pulsing, no movement, no hunger. There wouldn’t even be a numb pain, just a void. Locked in a prison of nothing.

Then one day it just comes back—a foreign pulse pumps through your veins. All the movement comes back at once. Would you relish in the feeling or would you drown?

[quietpagan]

What if Vimes couldn’t go home?

AO3

In belated honor of the Discworld fandom’s ‘Feelings Day’, and in order to cause some more Feelings, I’m curious about a version where Vimes doesn’t go home. The hole opened and closed, and will stay closed; the cards are shuffled and cannot be unshuffled. The Glorious 25th of May happens and keeps happening, and Vimes lives by the skin of his teeth and sees the dawn of the less glorious 26th of May, and the cleanup of its bloody yesterday. There are six new graves to be dug up in Small Gods, and Vimes looks at the grass where the seventh should be and feels sick.

The monks are very sorry that this has happened to him, and endure his raging and his ranting with the sad patience of people who know the volcano is going to erupt and where the pyroclastic flow will have to land, and have to deal with it anyway.

And Vimes does the only thing he knows how to do, and goes to work. He weathers the punishments that come with laying his captain out and fields the rest that come with commanding a barricade against the military in a city-wide demi-revolution, and is commended for his efforts toward the future of the new administration. He stands before the newly-appointed Lord Snapcase and salutes as best he can without wincing, and leaves as soon as he’s allowed, twitchy and eyeballing every guardsman all the way back to the watchhouse. Sam Vimes the Current follows him all the way and he realizes that he has a responsibility to this boy, one that now lasts more than just a few days. The only watchman who knew his secret was dead; the monks keep to themselves. John Keel lives now, and Vimes has thirty years of knowledge to try and put things right.*

             *Or, at least, thirty years give-or-take the two decades where his memories swam in a sea of alcoholic blurr. He’d just have to fish out whatever bits he could from there.

He makes a List. There are various watchmen who die who don’t need to, crimes remembered that he can now predict, and as time goes on Sergeant Keel of the Night Watch gains a reputation for being disconcertingly there, present at just the right time. He catches a young lad before a cart runs the boy over; Sergeant Maroon doesn’t take an unfortunate dive onto the upturned pike of a belligerent thief, because Keel is there, grabbing the back of his armor just in time to haul him up. He sees the directions the city turns in before it even moves its head; Madam and her friends are fascinated with him but he denies her anything, right up until it’s suddenly five years into the past and he sees Sam take his first drink outside of the social sphere, and realizes that he’s actually allowed to change, really change things. Big things. And personal things, as well.

Vimes watches Sam like a hawk and steers him well away from the bottle when failed romances (Vimes watched with cringing sympathy, but the poor bastard had to learn somehow) or the dirty hands of the city begin weighing on him; they talk, instead, and Vimes desperately looks around for something he had never seemed to have time to acquire before: a hobby. It leads him to Schoone Avenue where, upon the notice of the death of Lord Ramkin and the beginnings of the dragon sanctuary, Vimes drags Sam along to inquire about getting a watch-dragon for Treacle Mine Road. He’s worked hard to see to it that watchmen are no longer back-door visitors, but he shines Sam up just the same.

Sybil looks so young; at twenty-five she already towers over Sam Vimes the Younger and Older both, and hasn’t quite acquired that middle-aged forthrightness of someone who knows it’s late and is determined not to care. Sam is enthralled, and Vimes takes the opportunity to volunteer him to help at the sanctuary, extracting himself as quickly as he can before anybody notices his eyes getting red.

He’s built up the reputation as a dedicated husband; everybody knows that his cigar case was a present from his wife, and he’d mentioned once that when he’d arrived she was about to have a baby. But there are no letters, no notes saying how the baby is and when is he coming home and what the big city is like. Ol’ Sarge didn’t like to talk about his wife, and looked rather wretched when she was brought up. So the men decide that Mrs. Keel had died in childbirth, and that ol’ Sarge was still too heartbroken to tell about it. Vimes has to go up to his room and sit in the dark for a very long time upon hearing that rumor, clutching the silver cigar case until his hands ache.  

Carcer is a problem. He’s stuck, same as Vimes, and has no compunctions whatsoever about doing absolutely anything he wants to anybody who gets in his way. Vimes works and works and works, night and day until he nearly collapses, trying to find something to pin the bastard with, something to tear him down from the pillar of terror he’s affixed himself to, and can’t. The city isn’t ready for a watchman who can arrest the unnerving head of the remains of the Particulars, even when the man comes up for murder. Nobody cares about murders; certainly not when an Authority is doing them, and particularly not when said Authority is known for making people disappear. But the Particulars, though they’d been granted another base and were endorsed by Snapcase, were just as much afeared of Sergeant Keel as they were Captain Carcer, and when the time comes and it’s Sam, of all people, who manage to arrest Carcer for murder, nobody stands to speak for him. Poor Constable Battock exits life almost twenty years too early during that mess, but they have Carcer for his murder and for an attempted murder on Vimes himself, and Snapcase, who is insane but at least could read the mood of a mob, sentences the man to swing.

Sam the Younger is making rather some headway into his gentle Understanding with Lady Ramkin the Younger when she introduces him and his mentor to her very good friend, the bastard himself: Havelock Vetinari, fresh from his Grand Sneer and ready to grab Ankh-Morpork by the horns or, knowing Vetinari, to gently steer it by way of a sharp instrument on a more sensitive body part.

Vimes isn’t expecting the black-clad kid in front of him to watch him with an admiring eye, and he certainly isn’t ready for him to call Vimes ‘sir’. And Havelock and Sam get along, all under the smiling eye of Sybil, who’s looking entirely too smug at what’s supposed to be a friendly tea and chat. And Vimes knows the boy now as Havelock, because that’s what Sam keeps calling him. His new friend. It’s eerie.

And there’s the good bits about being stuck in the past, and the bad bits too – and then there’s the very bad bits. Sam wheedles and huffs and side-eyes Vimes until the man finally gives in and lets Sam drag him to Cockbill Street for dinner, under the aching need to put the horrible rumor of him being Sam’s runaway father to rest, and the even more painful ache of getting to see his mum for the first time in nearly twenty years. The familiarity is awful; Vimes had moved out of Cockbill Street when he’d first taken the badge and had only visited briefly over the years, in the bare, somewhat put-upon dutifulness of a son who didn’t realize that his mum wouldn’t be around forever. His mother – younger now than Vimes is, and isn’t that just the worst realization – serves everything that he’d been dying to taste just one more time, and it all turns to ash in his mouth. Young Sam is visibly disappointed to find that Sarge is completely unknown to his mum, and Old Sam finds that lack of recognition distressing for another reason entirely. He urges the boy to take better care of his mother, and sees that he visits her at least once a week.

It's about this time, or a little while afterward, that the silver cigar case disappears. Vimes had built a nervous habit of patting his pocket, and took it out just to look at it often. Twelve years through the past runs by and Rust has finally seen to boot (Vimes’s cardboard-soled boot, to be specific. He’d caught the bastard having indecent and altogether unwilling relations with a maid in the man’s manor, and Vimes had worked very, very hard to impress upon the city that being a nob didn’t mean you were free to fuck around and not find out. Rust, being nobbier than most, wasn’t arrested, Ankh-Morpork just wasn’t there yet, but he was encouraged to leave the city in disgrace, and Vimes supposed that it would just have to do for now). The office upstairs is Vimes’s once more, and has already accumulated a familiar forest of paperwork. It’s late, and he’s alone, and that’s what makes it hit so hard. If he’d been on the street, or even downstairs in company, and the possibility of the case being pinched was even fractionally available, he would have kept hope. He would have grabbed that possibility with both hands, treading red-eyed through the city year after year, holding onto the notion that he’d eventually find it. But he’s in his office alone, and when he habitually reaches down to pat it he feels the solid weight of it disappear under his hand. He checks his pocket, checks all of his pockets, nearly tears his trousers checking, and then throws up. He pulls on his cloak and runs into the night without a lantern, dodging the hustle of the city with unseeing eyes as he lets his feet walk him up to Schoone Avenue, where Sam is having dinner with young Sybil. Vimes can see only vague shadows in the windows from his spot on the distant street, only hear muffled laughter, and feel only lint and broken pencil lead in his pocket, and that’s it. That’s the only future now, up in the huge house ahead. The anchor that Vimes had held onto, even after Sweeper had told him that he could never go back…that one shining, delicate thread connecting him to his world, is gone. It’s all gone.

Vimes walks. He walks over the bridges, across the streets, and the shadows welcome him home. He notices nothing of the city around him; a thief from the newly appointed Guild hops in front of him, waves a knife, and then says ‘Er…sorry, wrong person,’ and hops all the way to the other side of the street; Vimes has pulled the night in around him, let it seep into his bones, and it shows on his face.

Everything is gone. Sybil, the baby, Detritus, Carrot, Vetinari, Angua…even Dorfl and his slowly-growing army of free golems, even Buggy and Cheery and Willikins and the little old lady who brought them biscuits on Hogswatch because they’d carried her husband to the hospital after he’d fallen, it was all gone gone gone. Was it all disappeared? Was everybody dead, an entire future erased as if it had never been? Or was Sybil waiting for him in a distant dimension, alone in that house with the baby, telling it stories about a father who disappeared into a storm, never to return? He doesn’t want to know. Each is as horrible as the other, and it doesn’t matter now because it’s all gone…

Sergeant Keel returns to the watch house at noon, several hours after he was supposed to have signed out for the day, and when he returns the watchmen note that he’s missing something, like a layer of skin has been flayed away. And in the cemetery of Small Gods, the tiniest plot has been paid for. It’s nothing but a small box, empty and the size of his hand and damn had Leggy First objected, but it was there, filled with the remains of Sam Vimes the Elder, and the future he had left behind.

He digs in, the way he had held off digging in before, because what else was there, now? Captain John Keel becomes nearly a force of nature. Thieves walk on the other side of the street, licenses clearly visible. The Assassin’s Guild raises his fee to over a half-million dollars, after the incident with the last fellow and the ornamental topiary. The Watch opens its arms to its first dwarf officer several years before Cuddy’s time, and with it comes the call for a troll officer, and though it’s not Detritus yet Vimes feels something slot into place. A female officer (human) follows, and it’s like the opening of a floodgate; suddenly the Watch isn’t just some rude men, but your neighbor Thor Thorsson’s in uniform now, and your daughter’s making noises about getting some chainmail. Vimes feels the familiar headache that comes with new recruit chittys coming in every week, but this time without Carrot here to prod him into organizing the files. And Havelock takes power far earlier than he had originally; Lord Snapcase had yet to commit something that Vimes could stick him with without getting nailed to a dungeon wall by his ears, but the guild leaders and even some of the nobs could sense how the wind was blowing through the streets, away from the idea of a cruel, insane tyrant who deplored upon a city that was opening its doors to new people and new ideas and, most importantly, all the money that they brought in. Havelock took up the robe of office nearly ten years ahead of time, right from the cooling body of its previous occupant, backed by the majority of the guilds and, for the first time, the surprisingly reputable City Watch.

Things are going well for Sam. There’s no way to avoid being torn down, when you’re a person with such an open heart and all the anger required to want to kick the gods for trespassing, but in this time he has a support system and a mentor who don’t let him do it alone. Vimes feels like he’s given the young man a proper education on all the reasons why the nobility as a whole is a festering parasite on the populace, and now he’s marrying one and is, uh, very good friends with another. Very good friends. Vimes wouldn’t have noticed except that he went to pick up Sam from the big house a bit early one shift, and noticed Havelock there, just relaxing in the sitting room with a cup of tea and a book, in the middle of the settee with Sybil on one side and a recently-vacated spot on the other. Vimes tried and failed to work his way around the question of ‘Are you and your wife fucking the Patrician, Sam?’ and instead spent the entirety of his patrol examining every ‘Ah, Vimes’, and every covered smile or invitation to stare thoughtfully out of the window and that one time where Vetinari had called him ‘my dear Vimes’ and how often he’d visited with Sybil and – and – how to possibly compute all of that while remembering this Havelock asking him, Sam Vimes/John Keel, for tips on how to disappear better into the shadows. He still takes in their invitations to dinner or tea on the regular and little details suddenly start to make sense, especially when Sybil looks at him over her teacup the next day and simply remarks that it was about time. Her and Sam have a baby well ahead of Vimes and his Sybil, and the little boy is dark-haired like neither of his parents, at opposites to his fair-haired sister, who comes a few years after. Vimes is named godfather to both, to his proud disquiet, his heart wrenching somewhere in the region of his stomach as he holds the children that, if not for a freak storm, would have been his own.

It all comes to a head, of sorts, when it’s been twenty-five years and Sybil says ‘Sam, dear?’ and Sam and Vimes both answer. He’s about two weeks from retirement, everybody knowing full well that ‘retirement’ for Ol’ Sarge will actually mean remaining exactly where he is, just with helping the new Commander Vimes (and doesn’t that just stab his proud, proud heart) with the paperwork instead of wrestling with it himself, and being less shy about falling asleep in his chair. He’s pushed it off for as long as possible, but even Havelock has started to become gentle in his persistence, and Vimes is…tired. Policing is hard on a body and soul, and Vimes has policed Ankh-Morpork for sixty damn years. Completely incognito, too, until that one tiny little misstep, and now Sam’s looking at him funny. It should be an easy enough mistake to attribute to age and familiarity, but Vimes knows the look of having Figured It Out when he sees it on his own blasted, blasted face, and Sam is coming up to it fast. The mannerisms. The voice. The way they look like father and son, if father and son happened to look and age and smile and frown exactly alike, with the same color of eyes and hair, the same hands, the same knob on their right pinky from a broken finger in childhood. Sam’s mother hadn’t recognized it but Sarge looked so stricken when he’d met her, like he’d seen a ghost. Sam had sneaked a look at Sarge’s cigar case once, had seen the writing and never made sense of it. Sarge had introduced him to Sybil. Sarge had met Havelock without surprise, Sarge had figured out that whole Leshp business before anybody could even organize an army, Sarge knew things. Sarge had nearly started weeping when they swore in Sergeant Detritus, and had made friends with him instantly. Sarge was the only one not surprised by Captain Carrot’s indelible manner, or by young Cheery’s fashion choices. Sybil and Havelock sometimes looked between Sam and Sarge like they were waiting for either to answer a question, like the answer would be the same no matter which man it came from, and Sam realized – probably thirty years behind everybody else, dammit, that it really wouldn’t matter which man the answer came from, because they were the same. Damn. Man.  

Sam corners Sarge in his little room above the watchhouse, shoves a chair under the door, and asks him what his name is.

And Sam Vimes, after a very long, long moment, sighs, and answers him.

[giddlygoat]

Is Drake extremely jealous of Launchpad, despite loving him? Does LP know this?

drake is great at finding things to be jealous about, so i wouldn’t be surprised? like, he would be jealous of launchpad’s easy charisma a bit i think. he could be jealous of any number of things depending on his mood. but in general, i don’t really think of him as jealous of launchpad as a whole. more like, he envies launchpad’s easygoing nature and his being quick to forgive, because drake doesn't feel like he can be either of those things. but i think in his mind it sounds less like “it should have been me” and more like “i wish i were more like him” if that makes sense.

launchpad is absolutely very aware of drake’s jealous nature. he’s pretty finely tuned into drake’s emotions as a whole, but i think as someone who doesn’t experience a lot of jealously, it’s easier for him to step back and look at drake with a fresh perspective.

like. launchpad wants a lot of the same things drake wants. he wants attention, he wants recognition and support, he needs to feel useful at all times. but the way this looks on him is vastly different. he turns his desire to belong into acts of service, because if he can be of use, people will keep him around longer, right? he feels like it’s inevitable that he will be outgrown or left behind by everyone he attaches to. he doesn’t feel like he can ask for anything so he’ll give as much and laugh as often and smile as wide as he can because all he knows to do is freely give what he might not feel he quite deserves.

i think it took drake much, much longer than he’d care to admit to realize what’s going on inside launchpad. like, he quite literally crashes into the pilot’s life one night, immediately tries to brush him off, until - “wait, you’re a pilot?!” how can you be of service to me? how can you help me? at which point do you become a burden?

launchpad didn’t even think twice. he threw himself into the fray with drake, giving it his all, joking and smiling despite the chaos and tension. i imagine that’s the most alive either of them have felt in years. launchpad had a purpose, drake had a fan, and it was all kind of magical right before they crashed into a power line. like a slap to the face, drake walked away, sputtering and livid, and launchpad just couldn’t let all of it go yet. he begged for drake to let him stay, give him that purpose and allow him to belong. i think they were both frazzled and frightened; LP of losing this and drake of having it, and so it came to an abrupt end then and there. but everything was changing quickly and i think both of them knew it. i don’t need to tell you what happened in darkly dawns.

at some point, drake has got to investigate launchpad’s behavior. he’s a details guy - often bogged down in the smallest of details and unable to see the big picture. he picks and picks apart but doesn’t think to blink and look up, so of course he would take launchpad’s eagerness to help for granted. he must be well adjusted and content with his life. well well, good for him [sarcastic]. of course drake wishes he could be that unbothered sometimes, but it’s not a thought he can entertain for long before he’s already exhausted with it.

like, drake needs to wear a mask and cape to feel any sense of security. he needs to be clamored over and monologued to and hit hard a couple times before he feels any semblance of stability. of course he would take one look at good ol’ unconcerned launchpad and completely disregard the notion that he possibly struggles with a similar problem. of course launchpad wouldn’t say anything.

but i don’t think it remains like this forever obviously. like, at some point drake does begin to realize where things don’t add up. as they get more comfortable with each other, they both let the ‘mask’ slip a bit more. and from this, i think any jealously drake experienced before might actually intensify in some twisted up way. that launchpad could turn his loneliness and suffering into something so beautiful and downright productive while drake has to masquerade around the city at night in his clown getup? yeah he would probably resent that at first LAWL

but i think very quickly it would start to untangle a bit. as their strange similarities come to light more and more, drake would probably feel inspired more than anything. he finds that for the first time in his life he can look at someone doing better than him and want to follow him rather than belittle them. he doesn’t want to be better to spite launchpad, he wants to better himself because of LP.

also, if you were asking about drake’s jealousy regarding launchpad’s looks and i totally misinterpreted this ask, sorry LMAO. if that’s the case, i don’t think drake is jealous of his looks because launchpad doesn’t look anything like drake’s personal ideal. he’s so vastly different that they don’t really compare or overlap. of course drake has insecurities regarding his own figure, but i think he’s more self assured than anything. i think the euphoria he gets from the costume is enough to stave off any doubts he has about his looks lawl

[daddyplasmius]

hand on my stupid heart flashbacks

this is a No One Knows AU & Full Hazmat AU where Danny ended up in the Ghost Zone & didn't go back into the human world initially because he thought he was dead. by the time he realized he is, in fact, at least half alive, he'd already been missing for at least 2 weeks. will probs never finish homsh sorry. i wrote this a couple years ago in a haze & just haven't been able to finish it because i can't replicate the style, which i find is what i love about this fic the most. it wouldn't be the same without it. posting the flashback introsーwhich are meant to be read between chapters/the actual plot, starting after chapter 1ーcuz fuck it. excuse typos & shit, i never properly edited it, as i forgot it existed immediately after i wrote it original description of homsh: Danny Fenton has officially been missing for over a year. Maddie & Jack Fenton refuse to give up on their son. Sick and tired of the police running them in circles, and the case getting colder by the day, the Fentons turn to their last resortーPhantom. 800~ words (full unfinished fic is 20k~)

-

When Danny woke up surrounded by thick, green fog, and couldn’t breathe without swallowing heavy air that was more like water than anything, he was sure he was dead. The portal glowed behind him, illuminating the pitch darkness around him in soft, yellow, warm light.

He almost went back.

Almost.

He was dead. His parents were ghost hunters. They had drilled into his head from the moment he was born that he could never, ever panic in death. That he would accept it. That he would not be scared. So he would be prepared to be brave in the face of death and would not become a ghost.

He panicked. He did not accept it. He was terrified. And so he woke up in the Ghost Zone.

-

Danny went back through the portal when he saw some ectopuses acting… strange. Like they had an idea in their heads. Like they had a plan.

Which was weird, with animal ghosts. He had only been in the Ghost Zoneーmom and dad called it that, he rememberedーfor a couple weeks. Or, he had already been there for two weeks. Or maybe time worked differently and he was there five minutes, or four years orー

The ectopuses went through the portal and, despite everything, Danny went after them.

While he was busy reeling at being home, the ectopuses immediately attacked dad. Danny was horrified. Jack was overwhelmed. Danny stepped in, in a moment fueled by sheer adrenaline and stupidity, snatching a Fenton Thermos™ off a shelf and releasing his shaky invisibility. The ectopuses didn’t stand a chance. And when they were safely in the Thermos, he slowly turned around to dad, ready for the confrontation. Ready for the “what happened to you?” and the “where have you been?” and the “we’ve missed you”.

Dad scrambled to shoot at him.

Danny fled.

His parents didn’t recognize him.

-

The Lunch Lady attacked when Danny was mourning Halloween.

He’d waited all year. He made a costume that summer. He wouldn’t get to go trick or treating with Sam and Tucker this year. Or any year. For the rest of his lifeーor existence. Whatever.

The Lunch Lady appeared in the school and demanded in straight fury, “Who changed the menu?”

Everyone pointed at Sam.

Danny hadn’t known just how powerful ghosts could be. His parents never told him the specifics. Just that they were dangerous.

This ghost grew and her aura hit him like a hurricane, almost physically pushing him back. It was so strong that the students in the Casper High cafeteria seemed to feel it too.

The Lunch Lady was a much harder opponent than the ectopuses. She levitated meat. She used it as a weapon, and seemed to bring it back to life. She created weird meat creatures that grew sharp teeth and claws out of bones. They were mindless, attacking everything that got too close to the ghost. Danny would have run away without hesitation, if Sam hadn’t been in the crossfire.

Danny fought the Lunch Lady. It was a long struggle, but he caught her in the thermos after over an hour. When he turned to Sam and Tuckerーboth of whom he had to save due to Tucker trying to jump into the fightーall three of them bloody and bruised, he cringed. But a part of him hoped. Desperately.

Surely they would know him on sight.

“Wh-what are you?” Sam gasped at him finally.

Danny flinched as if she had struck him. “J-just… your friendly neighbourhood phantom.”

-

Danny didn’t know what possessed him. Oh. Pun not intended.

He just barely caught the Fentons leaving in the GAV, dragging suitcases behind them. He couldn’t help himself. What on Earth were they doing?

They were going to Vlad Master’s mansion for their college reunion.

It was a whole thing. But something was off. Besides all the adults reminiscing about the 80’s.

Danny sensed ghosts immediately but he couldn’t see anything. Unfortunately for him, Vlad could also sense him. It was two days of Danny staying invisible, and Vladーthe halfa? Is that what Danny is?ーtrying to kill Jack. Somehow, Danny managed to fight off Vlad, not turn back, and without the Fentons getting hurt. His secret intact.

VladーPlasmius, also learned about Phantom. And Vlad hated him. The manーghostーwhatever, seemed to only care about one thingーpossession. Of money. Of things. Of people. He was more ghost than Danny had ever seen. Vlad’s obsession was overwhelming.

Danny couldn’t believe someone so much like himself could be so disturbing.

[ghost-of-you]

5sos: puts HBG on the dice

5sos: has to play HBG

5sos: surprised pikachu face

No because those men took a glorified beach ball the size of Luke, slapped a song they actively hate and they think we like because of the chanting (hbg), 2 songs a lot of people talk about in social media and we do actively like (wayf and iydk), a song they never played before that is somewhat popular on 5sostok for conspiracy theories about who it is about (ela) and 2 songs I have no idea how even ended up on the mix (voodoo doll and heartache) and decided that literally throwing that in the audience would be a great idea. A tour doesn't need a surprise song, they made a conscious decision of making the dice, then they pick the songs on said dice and go all when it lands on half of them.

Like dudes what the hell did you think was gonna happen? That you could cheat your way into not playing it the whole tour? If you don't want to play the song don't make it an option, is not like y'all are not pretending half your discography doesn't exist, put hbg in that box and tell the people chanting for it to get over themselves. It's your show, you make the rules. If you hate a song don't fucking make it an option.

[siyratiin]

starting a tfone onyx prime fan club. open to anyone. anyone can join. we can even make it an every prime fan club. if you want.

[perilegs]

where can i read the woundfucking tho

here you go :3c

[ask-elland-n-will]

*sighs as I chew on the tip of my sugar quill, shooting a glance at you, my brows furrowed*

You’ve been muttering 'war' under your breath for the past minute Will. What in Godric's name has gotten you so belligerent?

Being in a rather distracted state, homework — the last thing on his mind, William doesn't react to Allegra's words at first, only taking his eyes away from the textbook when he feels her looking at him. He frowns as well, realizing he was probably saying things in his less-than-peaceful contemplation. 

"Ah," he rubs his eyes in an attempt to reset his thoughts. "It's really nothing. Just..." he sighs, leaning back on his chair, folding his arms on his chest. "You know about SSOO, right? I heard you talking to Theodora about it. The secret Sallow admiration society or whatever? Well..." The Slytherin wills his brows to unfurrow and assume a somewhat neutral expression. He doesn't need other people in the common room to observe how frustrated he felt, putting on a mask is the right call. Everything Will says next is but a whisper.

"They never invited me! Everyone knows I love these kinds of, er, little clubs." Will blushes, a small smile dancing on his lips as he remembers something, but it quickly slips away. "So... I am trying to come up with a plan. How do I infiltrate their ranks? How do I find out where their meetings take place? And is there a way I can find out if they are doing anything unsanctioned in the meantime? My only real lead has vanished because the meeting mentioned in the parchment Theo procured? It already passed. And I have no idea if Sebastian even attended! I was patrolling the corridors all night, how are they so sneaky!"

Will grabs onto Allegra's sleeve, bringing his face closer to her, looking his friend straight in the eyes so that she can feel the intensity of his determination.

"This is W.A.R.: William Abbott's Retaliation! If they can't accept me then I will find a way to tear them down!" Will shakes Allegra a little at his last words, voice undoubtedly going high enough for a couple of first years passing by to squeak in surprise. Instead of glaring at them, Will lets go of Allegra and brushes his prefect badge nonchalantly while smiling sweetly at the witnesses, in stark contrast to how he probably looked just a second ago. 

"Do you need any help?" The question doesn't meet any actual verbal response as the students shake their heads, eyes wide, and hurry away. Will lets out a sigh turning back to Allegra. "See? This is driving me insane!"

[nicawlette]

hello just wanted to say im so sorry about my inactivity i went on vacation for like 2 weeks and then i've been struggling to get back in the groove at work and adjust my schedule i know i owe a few people things, i haven't forgotten! hopefully I can get to that this week/weekend!! so sorry for the wait

[heungmins]

It’s insane because the fact that Harry doesn’t really compliment Sonny in the way that Sonny is always ready to ramble about him is so special. Simply because Harry loves Sonny so much it’s obvious - you don’t even need words to know. It’s in the way he always runs backwards to catch him after a goal, in the way he never doubts Sonny, in the way he smiles at him and laughs with him when they do interviews together, shedding that stoic personality of Harry Edward Kane, England’s golden boy, that he’s built up over the years. He’s just so different around Sonny.

And it makes things like “Never in doubt” or “Anything that makes Sonny smile is a good thing” and “Sonny’s a very important player to the team” even more special. Yes, everyone loves Sonny, but Harry loves him in this, like, absolutely furtive secret way even though it’s out in the open for everyone to see? Like the love he has for him is so personal?

It’s so … “If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more.”

i don’t even feel qualified to answer this, because how are you going to drop the most heartbreaking ask on my humble little blog? 

(disclaimer? note?: i can’t believe i’m writing all this for a footballer.. while i was typing this out i was genuinely concerned for my mental health)

harry’s a pretty selfish player, and i’m not saying that to talk bad about him, that’s just the way he needed to develop, as a striker whose first priority is to score goals for himself. 

heungmin and harry are almost polar opposites, and although we normally associate acts of love as something grand, something we need to show around, maybe sometimes, love is stored in small acts that only the person you love know, actions that are so out of character for you, but actions that develop into habits that you’re so unaware of, but habits you develop for them… does this make sense !!! and it’s genuinely insane that harry, out of everyone, is the one that notices the small things about heungmin, like when harry pushed eric aside when he saw that he was being too harsh with heungmin when he was stretching him out, doing everything he possibly can to get heungmin another goal to secure an individual golden boot when he heard that salah had scored another goal, and patting his chest in silent apology when he accidentally pushed heungmin while trying to get in between heungmin and some arsenal players… Does this Make Sense !!!!!

heungmin loves him in a way where he talks and talks and talks about harry to other people, because that’s just his way of expression; he wants the media to know that what a great person harry is, and perhaps that stems from his need for praise from his dad or from the media. when heungmin loves something, it just oozes out of him - you can physically see the happiness and his love for football radiate off of him when he plays. he doesn’t do subtlety and that’s just the way heungmin is !! he wants everyone to love and see harry in the way that he does. 

and harry loves him in a way where he wants to be the only person who gets to see heungmin in a certain way, because everyone loves heungmin but he’s the only one who knows certain details about heungmin. i was talking to alex abt this but my fucking gad i wish i could express myself better on this bc i have SO much to say on the way they love …. oughhhhh

[rose-lalondde]

Kishi fucked up Sakura's character by making her a medic-nin.

Now, I love medic-nin Sakura. I love the parallels it comes with, the previous team 7 (Rin) and the Legendary Sannin (Tsunade), I love her being Tsunade's student, I love that it's something she can do that the boys can't do and that she more than excels in it, she's talented!!! BUT being a medic-nin forces her to take a background position in the plot/fights because a medic is the last person you want to get hurt. During the Pein Arc, Sakura gets to display leadership as she commands and organizes the hospital but can't physically help fight Pein because she has to do her job. It's not a bad thing, I actually wish more people were aware of this because they act like she had to help fight Pein when that's not her job. My problem with this occupation is that Sakura is still a main character, or suppose to be, and having her on the sidelines while her two other teammates are on the frontlines consistently does not make this feel like a team. Besides her overwhelming strength, the medic-nin skills that Sakura portrays are not as flashy or prominent as whatever narusasu is doing, and it makes the trio look unbalanced. It isn't until the war that Sakura has her Strength of a Hundred Seal and while it's very pretty & cool to see, it doesn't really compare to narusasu, who are apparently god-like alien descendants or something. Not to mention, out of all of the teams, and the Rookie Nine in general, Sakura is the only civilian-born ninja graduate. Then she gets put on a team where both her teammates have crazy strong clan bloodlines and her teacher doesn't teach her anything, she's at a maximum disadvantage!!! As a result, team 7 falls apart because narusasu don't have someone else, at their same level, to keep them in check and from tearing each other's throats out.

Now to my favorite part, talking about team 7 (the remix) and why Sakura and Sai make such a good duo. First things first, they are a perfectly balanced DUO. Emphaszing the hell outta duo because sai, naruto, and sakura as a team is still very unbalanced and more often than not Sakura and Sai end up as a duo anyway. This is because Naruto has the ability to leave and be perfectly fine on his own (for the most part). But in terms of skill and personalities, Sakura and Sai work really great together!

[suolainensilakka]

favorite kingdom hearts characters. for science

WELL, gently taps the current pinned post of this blog, that one's a freebie ^__^

Anyway. BOY ranking them all is really hard bc so many characters in the series have permanently set up camp in my head by now and arent particularly inclined to leave any time soon, but if I had to list off just a couple examples that have caused me the most brain damage so far, itd be:

- Terra, hands down my number 1 most specialest guy in the whole world. Instantly became enamored with him from the moment I first set eyes on him and then proceeded to have all of my ribs carefully and meticulously pulled out of my chest one by one throughout the entirety of bbs and the entire rest of the series after that. Its so dire man I literally cannot look at any images of him now without physically having to hold myself back from making a long strangled whine Out Loud With My Mouth every time

- the entire Wayfinder Trio as a collective unit + Vanitas also tbh. Terra's obviously my Primary Favorite but the wayfinders as a whole also make my heart hurt so fucking bad man. My partner and I choose to interpret them all as siblings bc it leads to some exceptionally delicious and painful rs dynamics to explore imo and something abt it just makes The Miseries hit that much harder in ways that have literally had me writhing on the couch with a thousand yard stare rapidly cycling through the five stages of grief on loop. I'm also counting Vanitas as part of the unit bc he's just so closely tied to Ven in my brain that separating them (lol.) feels Wrong (lmao.), and. God. Vanitas might just be one of THE most tragic characters in literally any media I've experienced and I say this without a single hint of irony. The current total wordcount of the rps that I've written abt the wayfinders with my partner so far has probably shot past 50k by now. Why am I hurds

- Kairi. I was originally mostly ambivalent/neutrally intrigued abt her but kept getting increasingly more pissed abt her treatment and constant sidelining by the writing to the point where I got to kh3/mom and something in me snapped entirely, and from that moment onwards I decided to love her entirely out of spite. She instantly shot up to become one of my favorites after that and if I think abt her meta and story potential for longer than five minutes at a time I start frothing at the mouth

- Sora, naturally. I have so so so so many thoughts on this little darling boy that could easily double the wordcount of this ask just by themselves but the most important thing to mention here in lieu of that, for now, is that he's is the One (1) and ONLY child ive ever seen, whether real or fictional, that has made me experience emotions anywhere Close to resembling baby fever. I want to dribble him like a basketball but also gently pinch his cheek affectionately and also spoil him silly like a grandma seeing her beloved grandson again for the first time in months

- Xigbar. This fucko is the one I'm the most mad about ending up liking as much as I do, not because hes a bad character, absolutely far from it I fucking ADORE this terrible bodyhopping little cunt, but because it happened by complete accident after I realized he shares a lot of (surface) similarities with my favorite blorbo from another entirely unrelated franchise and I then got mad about realizing I have a very easily clockable Type (which I've affectionately dubbed the Guys That Suck category. I have more too obv but its the funniest one I have). He's also infuriatingly fun to write. Get me OUT of here

- Xemnas, Terranort and Ansem SoD. Everyone in the Nort Collective counts tbh but those three are the ones I lose sleep over the most, particularly the first two; Xemnas bc he makes me feel an unfathomably deep and haunting sense of grief (brought on by me finishing bbs and then realizing days later the exact way his creation connects to Terra's story and hearing the sound of fucking glass shattering at the back of my head instantly), and Terranort bc I'm fucking terrified of him and he also makes me want to eat gravel whenever I think abt him in context with him interacting with the rest of the wayfinders. He's also really fun to write and this fact Upsets Me. Ansem's listed bc you can never go wrong with the ol reliable mad scientist. The rest of the norts I would probably also be a lot more insane over once I actually get off my damn ass and start picking through the mobile games but that's an endeavor for Future Salty (i am very excited and terrified)

- the Lingering Will. I'm counting it as a separate entity from Terra and the rest of the Terra Collective on a technicality bc (LOUD TELEVISION STATIC AS I GESTURE FRANTICALLY AND FURIOUSLY @ THE JUMBLED BALL OF YARN LABELED "my thoughts on the physical and psychological effects of being a guy who got his soul and entire being shattered into like five million distinct pieces for over 10 Whole Entire Years" THAT I HAVE NOT EXPLAINED THE ENTIRETY OF TO A SINGLE OTHER SOUL ON EARTH) but. Eah. This fucking haunted hunk of metal has been eating holes through my brain tissue ever since I first saw the kh2 secret superboss and I'm distraught over it every single day of my life. This thing is like a weird bug to me. Do you understand. (tearign up) Do you get me. Do I have to pull out the Lingering Will/The Hollow Knight venn diagram

And as for the other fuckos haunting my cranium on the daily I can only mention a couple other honorary picks that honestly could also very well have made it to the main list if not for the fact that this post is already long enough as it is, and these following characters are therefore mostly delegated to Sleeper Agent Blorbos who I don't think about QUITE as often as the ones listed above but whenever I Do I get just as distraught and ailed over them. Anyway, shoutout to the entire Seasalt Trio, Demyx, Riku, Repliku, Naminé and Saïx and probably many others I'm forgetting rn bc it is currently 2 am and I'm running on approximately 5-6 hours of sleep and a prayer 👍 god bless and amen

[stansaaa]

But here he is, sitting in her father’s living room finally in the flesh, and she can’t get the unsettling feeling out of her bones that leaves her mouth dry and her skin hot.

the modern au where Daemon and Rhaenyra meet for the first time when she's 18, and their mutual attraction is overwhelming.

[kits-ships]

reading what i wrote at 4am last night and why did i go so hard on the doctor

"After all, how many of your companions have you already abandoned? Or would it be easier to name the one or two of the lot that you've actually seen since leaving them behind?" A grin fell on his face as he stared her down. "Speaking of your little friends, how many of them have actually survived their travels with you? Or do you prefer toying with their lives like you did Amy and Rory's?" The Time Lord laughed, straightening out his back and her tugging her hair harshly. "Perhaps our dear Olive is better off in my care, after all."