#;exclusives & mains

[liketolaugh-writes]

I've been playing with a no-one-knows AU where Danny has been married to Jason for years but hasn't told him his secret. Jason knows that Danny isn't human, but hasn't pressed because Danny is so terrified when he approaches the topic. The Batfamily do not know.

Presently, the GIW are in Gotham and closing in, and the Box Ghost has come to Danny seeking help.

This is not a prompt. This is a WIP excerpt.

----

“You’re a ghost,” Jason said gently, pulling one of Danny’s hands away from his face to wrap it in his own. Danny let him. “Aren’t you?”

Danny’s breath hitched again.

Surprisingly, the Box Ghost looked almost as horrified as Danny.

“What? NO! I, the BOX GHOST, would not out Danny Fenton to his human family! For he is as human as I once was!” He flailed his arms in blatant panic. “There is nothing to reveal, for Danny Fenton is most certainly NOT a ghost!”

“What’s wrong with Danny being a ghost?” Box Lunch wanted to know, tilting her head up to peer up at her father in confusion. “Is it a secret?”

“BOX LUNCH!” the Box Ghost wailed, every inch a mortified parent.

“Yes, it was, or your father would not be so blatantly lying about it,” Damian told her, taking pity on the child ghost.

“Oh!” Box Lunch nodded seriously. “Danny isn’t a ghost!”

Danny let out a slightly hysterical laugh, and then started to cry, gasping quietly with tears pouring down his face, hunched down to hide from them. He didn’t pull his hand out of Jason’s.

“It is no longer a secret here, as it has become apparent,” Damian elaborated.

Box Lunch scrunched up her nose. “Oh.”

“Ghosts are not bad,” Cass said softly, “if ghosts are Danny.”

“Danny.” Jason scooted closer and pulled Danny against him, and Danny let him, pressing into him without unwinding at all. “Danny, I already knew. I’ve known for years.” Danny tilted his head up to give him an incredulous look, and Jason grinned at him. “You’re not good at hiding it, stardust. Your freckles glow when you’re excited and your eyes flash green when you’re frustrated. You walk through closed doors when you’re sleepy and things fall through your hands when people startle you. I’ve known you aren’t human since we moved in together.”

“…Oh,” Danny murmured, guilt and relief and wonder swirling together in his still-wet eyes.

“Phantom!” the Box Ghost scolded. Jason took note of the sudden change in address. “You are the worst secret keeper ever!”

“Shut up, Boxy,” Danny snapped. He pulled away from Jason and wiped his eyes, sniffling. Their hands stayed locked together. “We, we need to hide you and bitty-bite b-before we talk about this any more. I wasn’t joking about the Guys in White.”

The Box Ghost flapped his arms dismissively. “They will not find us! They are looking for YOU, and their instruments will not be prepared for such subtle spirits as Box Lunch and I!”

“They are looking for me while I am hiding,” Danny said, soft but barbed. He wiped his face again and turned around to better face the other ghost, glaring sharply. “Something I am well known to be very good at. Far better at than you.”

The Box Ghost went so pale he was almost translucent.

“You don’t look like a ghost at all,” Tim said, studying Danny. “Your skin is pink, you don’t glow… most of the time, no pointed ears or fangs. Your eyes are normal.” His eyes narrowed. “Is this… not your natural appearance?”

Danny flinched. “I… I…” He swallowed, staring at nothing, and then forced his attention back onto the Box Ghost. “Your base signatures are pretty low. If you stop using your powers and suppress your auras as much as you can, you can probably bring them low enough to hide.”

No answers would be forthcoming for now, Jason understood. He signaled sharply to Bruce and Tim, the most likely to try to interrupt. Wait. Time-sensitive, finish operation before proceeding.

Bruce didn’t look pleased, but he nodded sharply. Tim just watched, thoughtful eyes fixed on Danny. Damian was scowling, Dick frowning faintly, but Cass’ curiosity looked borderline idle. Jason watched Danny interact with the other ghost with a healthy blend of interest and concern, and tried not to wonder if Tim was right.

“Box Lunch, do you know how to land?” Danny asked. It seemed like a silly question until Box Lunch wrinkled her nose and cocked her head.

“Land?” she asked, audibly uncertain. For that matter, her father looked vaguely baffled too. “Like… with my feet? On the floor?”

Danny managed a smile and nodded. Box Lunch eyed the floor, then drifted down to hover at floor level. “Like this?”

“Not exactly,” Danny said, sounding more fond than anything. He slid off the bar stool and knelt down in front of Box Lunch. Jason couldn’t look away; he’d been deprived of any open knowledge of Danny’s nonhuman side for so long that his curiosity was damn near insatiable now. And Danny teaching a kid of his species? That was doing things to Jason. Good things. “Close your eyes.” Box Lunch did. “Feel the energy in the air. Do you feel gravity? Do you sense how it pulls things down?” She nodded uncertainly. “Hold onto that feeling. Let it hold onto you. Do you feel it?” Nod. “Good. Now- let go of the sky.”

The instructions didn’t make a lick of sense to Jason, but Box Lunch dropped right out of the air and landed on her feet. Her eyes flew open, and she pinwheeled dramatically until Danny caught her.

“Ahh!” she squealed, looking dismayed. “I’m heavy!”

Danny chuckled. “No, bitty-bite, you’re still light as a feather.” He picked Box Lunch up and held her out in front of him, smiling. She squealed again, kicking her feet, her eyes bright with delight. “Good job. Do you think you can hold that?”

“Um, sure,” she mumbled, not looking at all sure.

The Box Ghost landed on the floor with a grunt - Jason suspected that he’d been listening to Danny’s instructions too. He held out his arms for Box Lunch, and Danny handed her over willingly.

“Now what?” the Box Ghost asked tentatively, staring at the floor like it would eat him. Yeah, Jason could definitely believe that he’d never landed before either.

“Now, you listen to me,” Danny said seriously. He reached out and grabbed Box Ghost’s arm, demanding his attention, and forced eye contact. From the Box Ghost’s wide eyes, this behavior was as new to him as it was to Jason. But then Danny continued, speaking as firmly as if he were willing his words into existence. “You are not a ghost. You are not a ghost.” Understanding flickered across the Box Ghost’s face, and he screwed his eyes shut. His glow started to dim. “You are solid. You are heavy. You are warm. You are made of flesh, blood, and bone. You are not a ghost. You are not a ghost. You are human.”

The Box Ghost’s glow receded and disappeared. Except for his blue skin, he almost looked human now. He opened his eyes uncertainly, and Danny gave him a weary smile and a nod, letting go of his arm and leaning back.

“But what about Box Lunch?” the Box Ghost asked anxiously, looking down at Box Lunch. She’d squeezed her eyes shut to try and follow Danny’s instructions, but didn’t seem to be meeting with the same success.

Danny sighed. “I’m not sure how to explain it to her,” he admitted, reaching up to run his fingers through his hair as he looked at the little girl with worry. She opened her eyes and gave him an anxious look, and Danny gave her a small smile. “It’s not your fault, bitty-bite. It’s just… you’ve always been a ghost, so you don’t have your dad’s memories of what it felt like to be human.”

Box Lunch stomped her feet. “I can pretend!”

“Then pretend,” Danny said seriously. “It doesn’t have to be perfect. Just do your best.”

“Wehh!” Box Lunch flailed her arms, brow furrowed in concentration. “I am human! My body is super solid and I crash into things a lot! And I run around on the ground and eat human food! Fear me!”

It was so cute that Jason muffled a laugh, and he wasn’t the only one. Box Lunch ran a circle around the floor, then crashed into a wall on purpose and bounced off, giggling. Even Bruce’s hard expression softened into a fond look.

“That should keep you off the sensors,” Danny said to the Box Ghost, voice low. Something about his eyes looked exhausted. “Just make sure Box Lunch maintains it. Maybe keep playing human with her.”

The Box Ghost nodded uncertainly. “Thank you, Phantom,” he said quietly. “I know that we can count on you.”

[jorenilee]

thinks about puppet scarf. do they know

[scribz-ag24]

more pmd rare pairs (mostly pmd2)

team charm lopunny/team awd weavile

dialga/dusknoir

murkrow/shuppet (team ebony)

the two porygons from se5

jirachi/mawile from psmd

[fisherrprince]

Instead of writing a fanfic like a normal person this oneshot turned into two separate, contextless things,

[rassicas]

i got another ask about translating the splatoon 10th anniversary relationship chart from famitsu. sorry it fell to the wayside ive been on that deltarune pill + ive put some other projects to the wayside until i finish my next video. new video will be coming very soon! this week????? i mean it this time!!!

[dailynightmare]

three posts, one of them isn't art, the remaining two are one of the best Nightmare fanart I have ever seen, so appealing for my eyes I'm already a big fan . . . please draw more of Nightmare in your amazing art style.

I was having a rough day but those fanarts made me feel so much better, there is something about looking at Nightmare that makes me feel at ease.

Too much rambling . . . anyway, GREAT ART!! PLEASE MORE!!

you flatter me 😌

[vampiirex]

THE STANLEY PARABLE HAS ALWAYS BEEN WOKE. everyone who is like "don't bring politics to tsp!" or "don't make tsp woke" is DUMB AS HELLLLLLL

[thequeenofsarcaasm]

[lgbtlunaverse]

Most annoying NMJ or JC take is when someone that dislikes them is like "oh you're a fan of him? *scoff* Well obviously you've only seen cql, where he was super watered down. In the novel he's a dislikable asshole and that's the objectively superior canon I'm working from instead of your woobified fanfic." Meanwhile your main canon is novel canon and you genuinely find novel Jiang Cheng and Nie Mingjue complex sympathetic characters.

[sevastiel]

So I was listening to the new Warframe Isleweaver soundtrack, and this song in particular REALLY caught me.

We dont currently have any instances of violin/viola that I can think of in warframes sound track that are that prevalent, and I was like, hmm. It uses Duviri's/the drifter's theme, but not in the regular way, and other than that its all over the place, its Kinda... lacking in regulation. It's highs and lows and oh my god its Thrax, isnt it.

Anyway. Now there's an image in my head of Thrax playing what I'm currently thinking of as a 5 string violin/viola combo that'd cover the whole register here, and atm I'm oscillating btween violinthi and vilthiari

(Vinthiri? Vilitha? vilithis? Violiri? Viliri? Violara? its gotta sound similar to how it would sound to play, while keeping the vi bit.)

[violetsquare111]

honestly kinda sad about the whole tumblr communities thing

like it's cool it's fun but imo it just unnecessarily divides content by having it be One Or The Other. now if you want to look at all the art a person's posted on tumblr, including doodles, you just don't have one place to do that. quick offhand thoughts are no longer available on a person's main blog with the rest of their earlier posts, they're arbitrarily hidden off to the side.

and even worse than being split off, communities are (as of yet) not searchable at all, so anything other than recent posts just gets... lost

you can reblog regular posts to communities but then, yet again, discussion on the post is cut up into two places. you can't see any of the community's comments if you're on the main post, not even as the post creator and not even if you're in that community. idk i really prefer the regular tag browsing system

huge props to the people moderating these things, yall are really awesome, it's just qualms i have with the feature in general

[mossy-rainfrog]

something about malevolent that kills me every time is how after John tried to erase Arthur from his own body, arthur stays mad for a total of 1 minute and then straight up says "it all shook out with me still here so I’m willing to move past this" and never brings it up again, but then after months and months and months of horror arthur STILL fucking brings up the goddamn widow under the island

"yeah i can easily forgive you for almost consuming my soul and stealing my body but FUCK you for disagreeing with that one murder i did." OKAY !

[sugarskies]

diversion (john's pov)

summary: john tries to get his phone back from bob who is being both incredibly obnoxious and obnoxiously cute. word count: 1,410 notes: this contains implied sexual content but nothing explicit. click here to read bob's pov!

“Walker, you good, man?”

John nodded as he swiped his thumb across his phone again. He had it open to Bluesky, to the infamous #AntiJohnWalker tag. It was an echo chamber of thousands upon thousands of people hating him for valid and absurd reasons alike. It was no secret that he checked that tag regularly, at least not to Bob.

“Need something?” John clicked off his screen when Bob stepped around the couch and stopped in front of him. If it wasn’t visible on his phone, he could deny what he was doing. Even if it was nearly impossible to lie to those deep blue eyes.

“I know what you’re doing,” said Bob. His hand was extended toward John, palm open and ready to receive. “Give me your phone.”

Technically, John had given Bob permission to demand it. It was weeks earlier that he caught Bob with a baggy of pills, that Bob pointed out John’s own bad habit and they made the deal: John would stop Bob from using and Bob would stop John from doomscrolling.

It seemed like a simple idea at the time. Neither of them could have predicted what the most effective form of distraction turned out to be.

(Bob started it, John reminded himself—he was the one who kissed John when they got into that fight over the pipe and Bob was so fucking sad that John couldn’t say no until it was too late and he realized how much he liked the taste of Bob’s lips.)

He crossed his arms and stuck his phone in his left elbow. “No.”

“Come on, Walker.” Bob wiggled his fingers and John couldn’t think about anything but where those fingers had been, what they’d done, what they could do. “You asked me not to let you doomscroll so I’m stopping you from doomscrolling.”

“I wasn’t doomscrolling, I was just— what the hell, Bob?!”

Bob grabbed John’s phone without warning and jumped back, a mischievous smile on his lips. It was unfair how cute he looked when he hid his arms and the phone behind his back. Unfair how hard it was to be mad at him even though he was being so fucking annoying.

“All right, all right, that’s enough.” John reached for his phone, but Bob slid out of the way and took a few more steps back. “Give it back.”

“Give what back?” Bob held up his hands, palms forward and completely empty. He must have stuck John’s phone somewhere. How could he have hidden it that fast? John’s eyes widened when it clicked. It must have been in his back pocket, pressed against his ass.

Jesus Christ, John thought, I’m jealous of a phone.

(Although in his defense, it was one hell of an ass. John was lucky enough to have seen and touched it bare, just a handful of times, and there weren’t so many other perfect parts of Bob’s body, he might have kept his hands on it forever.)

“You’re not as funny as you think,” said John, but he couldn’t keep the smile from pulling at his lips because Bob looked so damn adorable when he was happy. “Last warning and then I’m taking it.”

“Still don’t know what you’re talking about.”

John leaped forward and jammed the middle of his foot in the back of Bob’s knee as gently as the move could be executed. He kept one hand on the small of Bob’s back as he lowered him to the floor in a second, then swung his right leg over Bob’s torso; pinning him down with one of the many grappling techniques he kept in his repertoire.

He’d done the move a thousand times with dozens of different men. Never before had it felt like anything more than a movement of defense, a way to hold his enemy down. But with Bob, it was, well, Bob. John was straddling Bob. His face flushed and suddenly he was thankful his cheeks were hidden behind his beard.

(Not that Bob hadn’t caught him blushing before. One time, when everyone was asleep, Bob was the one straddling him. They’d wrestled over John’s phone again, of course. Then his face turned pink, and Bob kissed both his cheeks until he turned red and returned the favor in a far less wholesome place.)

Bob used his right hand to grab John’s phone from his pocket and threw his whole arm behind him, extended as far as he could. John had no way to reach it without either leaning forward or letting Bob go.

“What are you going to do now?” asked Bob teasingly. He smiled, his lips barely parted, and John went in for the kill without enough thought.

He reached forward and curled his fingers around Bob’s jaw; the tip of his thumb set not on the outside but the inside of Bob’s lips. They didn’t talk much when they did stuff, but John didn’t need to hear him say it to know that Bob’s oral fixation was intense.

If he thought about it too long, he might realize that it had something to do with Bob being neglected as a baby, or with the drugs he’d had in his mouth since he was twelve. But John chose to focus instead on how fucking good it felt when Bob, probably instinctively, closed his mouth and wrapped his lips around John’s thumb.

(John loved Bob’s mouth anywhere, really—they tried not to leave too many marks since their unnamed relationship was something of a secret but sometimes Bob wanted to bite him and sometimes John wanted to be bit.)

It was impossible to tell if Bob was messing with him. Impossible. John swore Bob’s back arched, but it was just for a second, so subtle he couldn’t be sure. Then Bob bit down on the base of John’s thumbnail and their eyes met and fuck. John’s own mouth fell open as his heart pounded. Bob was a tease, but his pants didn’t lie. He was into it. He was definitely into it.

The problem was, John was no longer sure if he was winning.

He slid his thumb out of Bob’s mouth, painted a small trail of saliva on his chin, and a barely audible moan escaped Bob’s lips as he exhaled. Desperation took over as John tightened his knees around Bob’s sides, as he leaned forward until he could feel Bob’s breath on his own, tickling his beard.

It was easy to get lost in Bob’s dark eyes, to forget that he had a goal outside of counting his every eyelash. John’s left hand slid through Bob’s hair, tucked it behind his ear before he leaned down farther, farther, farther.

Their lips got just close enough together to brush before John’s consciousness kicked back in and he forced himself to stop. He threw his arm forward and grabbed his phone from Bob’s hand before he rolled off Bob and laid beside him; his shirt pushed slightly upward and his pants tighter than a minute before.

“God, you’re easy,” said John with a snort.

Bob looked like he’d been kicked, his chest rising and falling with fervor as he stared at John with more disappointment than anger. An instant shred of guilt burned in John’s chest when Bob spat, “And you’re an asshole.”

“You’re the one who stole my phone.”

“If I knew you were going to be such a dick about it, I would’ve just let you keep—”

John threw his phone down and shifted back into Bob’s space, leaned over him just enough to shut him up with his lips.

(Because shit, that was how it started and that was how it kept happening. They’d tried many methods but there was literally no better way to silence each other’s upsetting thoughts than with a kiss and a well-placed hand.)

Almost immediately, Bob laced his fingers behind John’s neck and pulled him down closer. His tongue did not hesitate to explore the mouth it knew too well. He tugged on John’s bottom lip with his teeth and let out a small whimper when John leaned back.

“The others will be back soon,” he noted, glancing at the clock. “We don’t have a lot of time.”

Bob grabbed John’s hands and guided them down to his hips. He stared at John for just a second, his expression speaking for itself. “Then stop wasting it.”

And John, good soldier that he was, followed orders.

[maharellasa]

SOLAS in Dragon Age: Inquisition ↳ dev. Bioware

An elf, bald—the golden locks had been part of the mask. An oval face with full lips, and a tiny scar on his brow. Pointed ears, previously hidded under the mask and wig.

[marzipanandminutiae]

"of course I liked Crimson Peak! tom Hiddleston is in it!! :3 UwU!!!"

if you got through that movie without becoming at least a bit obsessed with Edith and Lucille, you have a major skill issue

like come on

the men in this movie are proxies for two iron-willed women who are different kinds and degrees of unhinged and the most interesting story is their rivalry despite their inherent similarities (and also how thirsty thomas is for his sister. I said what I said)

this is what it's about how can you not be insane over it

(because this is the What Is A Female Character? website, that's how)