#diallings

[buckera]

SALTOMMY + the hours by michael cunningham ↳ for @evansboyfriend 💛

[faeriekit]

Health and Hybrids (XIV)👽👻💚

[I can't remember the original prompt posters  for the life of me but here's a mashup between a cryptid!Danny, presumed-alien!Danny, dp x dc, and the prompt made the one body horror meat grinder fic.]

PART ONE is here PART TWOis here PART THREE is here PART FOUR is here and PART FIVE is here PART SIX is here and PART SEVEN is here PART EIGHT is here PART NINE is here PART TEN is here PART ELEVEN is here PART TWELVE is here PART THIRTEEN is here and this is part fourteen! Yes I messed it up this morning yes I had to wait all day to correct it it's all goooood

💚 Ao3 Is here for all parts

Where we last left off... Bart is a good egg who is having a Bad Time waiting for his friend :(

Trigger warnings for this story:  body horror | gore | post-dissection fic | dehumanization (probably) |  my nonexistent attempts at following DC canon. On with the show.

💚👻👽👻💚

Danny wakes up with a gasp.

He’s—where is he? Everything hurts. He can barely think. Danny groans, long and loud, and lifts up an aching hand to his temple.

His fingers come away green. Aw, fuck. What happened to him? What’s going on? Why is his hand…blurry? Is he concussed? Is something wrong with his eyes, or with his head??

(He hopes it’s not his head. It’s waaay easier to heal from one than the other.)

Danny tries to sit up, and— NOPE. Ow. Bad idea. Suuuuuch a bad idea. His arms and hands and his neck and his back are screaming at him, now that he’s awake enough to pay attention. Ughhhhhhhhhhh.

He lays back down. His eyes don’t—well, they don’t shut all the way, which part of his brain labels as very bad, actually, but the world does turn darker and greener as he tries to shut his eyes, and that’s close enough to closing his eyes that Danny can mostly zone out past the pain.

He licks his sore lips. They taste like copper. And battery acid. …And Pixie Sticks.

Ugh, ecto-blood. His own, he assumes.

Everything is blurry and everything kind of hurts and he doesn’t know how he got here or what’s going on. Danny tries to roll over, tries to get more comfortable, but something starts dragging on the inside of his arm, which means intravenous lines.

Ugggghhhh. He hopes it’s got pain meds at least.

Awake him can deal with this later. Danny zones out, his labored breathing evens.

He’s asleep before he knows it.

*

Danny wakes up next to quiet murmuring, and to weird sensation of something moving in his arm.

He yawns—and his jaw cracks apart farther than usual, with more clicking noises than his jaw usually makes. Weird. His arms come up, his eyes unblur…

The tugging sensation doesn’t go away. Danny sniffs blearily. Blinks.

Two white-coated humans(…?) in PPE pause at his bedside, a half-dissembled IV shared between them.

Danny stops breathing. He can’t—is he—

His eyes go to the ceiling. The floor. He doesn’t recognize the room he’s in. He doesn’t understand. Is this the Guys in White again? Is he— Did he never leave? Is he trapped? Danny doesn’t—he can’t—

—One of the white coats starts making worried noises, which. Danny’s never heard that before. It’s usually threats. They raise both their arms, and Danny flinches back—

…And so do they. Huh. Hm. Are the Guys hiring scaredy cats now? That would be a change of pace, if they were as scared of Danny as Danny is of them.

The second person clicks the new IV bag into place. Danny stops focusing on number one and starts focusing on number two.

They don’t make any overt tells either. The IV line is already in him, and the bag is… Well. It’s not red and Danny’s not in any pain, and it’s not green either. It’s just. Kinda opaque? Milky? The person doesn’t start cackling evilly or telling Danny how screwed he is, either. They both just sort of…tidy up?

The first one doesn’t get closer, either, but Danny can mostly tell that they’re scanning him visually. Their attention goes from his face, to Danny’s visible arm, to the puncture point in his elbow for the IV needle.

Danny also eyes his IV point. Well. It looks like a needle. Doesn’t hurt all that much.

Someone says something he doesn’t catch. But the tone isn’t…mean, or anything. If anything, it sounds quiet, and low, like they’re trying to keep him calm.

Danny doesn’t understand.

He moves as far out of the way of them as possible. It only has the effect of a few inches and it's so painfully slow. If that. He— he remembers. He’s supposed to be scared of— something. No, he knows it—

The labs. He’s supposed to be scared of the labs. The smell is rank there and there’s always screaming and Danny had been hurt there; really, really hurt.

He’s still hurt. He’s still in a lab. In a room. In some sort of too-small prison, and now his barely-sewn together lungs are trying too hard to keep air in his body and it’s not working, and—

Danny barely pays attention when the first doctor leaves. He sees the other back into the door and reach for the phone line, and he can’t stop breathing and he can’t calm down because that means that they’re calling for help and they’re going to hurt him all over again. Tie him down. Cut him open. Shock him, until he can’t breathe without screaming—

Someone new comes in. They look— rushed. Danny can see her actively tying up long black hair, threading a mask up over her face, pulling on one of those paper shifts the doctors wear. The only difference is that she doesn’t put boot covers on.

She has big, bright boots that go all the way up her legs. With his green vision, they look kind of…greyish? (Maybe they’re pink..?)

Either way. They look…ridiculous. Danny doesn’t exactly forget to be scared, but also…what the fuck.

The woman sees that Danny can see her. She waves.

Danny presses back against his— cot. Bed.

That doesn’t stop her. She pulls latex gloves from out of the paper slip she’s wearing and snaps them on, revealing a thin layer of something shiny underneath her elastic-bound sleeves. Once that’s on, she does a visible body checkup of herself: boots, gown, gloves, mask, hair.

…No hair net, though. Or goggles. The Docs in White always wanted to be fully covered when they saw their victims. Being able to see her eyes is a lot…friendlier.

She figures herself out. Straightens. Gives a double thumbs up.

…Danny's eyes roam around. There’s no one nearby. There's only a wall behind him. Is she looking at…him? Is that directed to him?

She doesn’t move immediately— and once she’s in, the second doctor leaves the room entirely.

…The new person takes over. She goes from monitor to monitor, getting closer, but with none of the focus on Danny, per se. She reads his stats, verbalizes them out loud, which, doesn’t sound like…English? But enough to confuse him? It’s kind of like trying to discern Esperanto when he's not thinking about how it's not English.

Ancients. The pounding in his head is getting worse. Maybe Danny has a concussion or something.

The woman doesn’t…get. Him. In fact, he seems to be the least interesting thing in the room to her. Her time is spent on reading the charts and the machines waiting around him, putting something into a…fridge? A Cabinet? In the corner of his room? And otherwise, she leaves him alone.

Until. She does get up and look at him, and all of Danny tenses up painfully. He can’t move. Something’s holding down his legs, his body’s stiff, and all of him is so tired that he genuinely can’t tell if his waist is tied down or if he’s just that exhausted.

He can hear his heart rate monitor kick up. He can’t move, not really. He tries to go intangible but his core just throbs with misery, and—

She mostly just pats his sheets. Not his person, even. Apparently the torture is being held off for now. “Eow eart wel?”

…Danny squints. That is almost English.

“Eom hebbjan yift,” she adds, leadingly, as if Danny is a friend she can tease and not a subject under threat of the knife. He doesn't like it. It hurts. Nothing is real and everyone hates him and all he wants to do is leave but his body is rejecting him and—

Something light and plastic thumps down onto the bed.

Danny blinks. He looks—down. (His neck makes him regret that.)

Is that a…is that a space shuttle? No, ‘cause Danny thinks he recognizes it. It’s Discovery? Isn’t it? That’s the one they just retired. He tries to grab it, but— ouch, oof, his fingers can’t even stretch, bad idea—

The woman gently guides the shuttle into his hand. It doesn’t even hurt. And.

It’s cold to the touch. The model is plastic, it shouldn’t be so cold, but the sensation is distinctly cool and kind of familiar.

…Oh. Danny struggles to flex his fingers around the thing.

It’s him.

Or. Well. The shuttle is his. It has his ectoplasm imbued all throughout it. He can even sort of feel the sensation of carefulplayingcareful he’d have felt while near it. The feeling is weak, and timid, but it’s still there.

So. Then. When did he get it? And…why? Why was it allowed to him? How did he get it?

Is this how they’re feeding him now? Instead of showering him with poorly filtered ectoplasm every time he gets rowdy, are they actually trying to feed his Obsession? For real?? That’s—that’s brand new behavior from the—

Danny blinks. Wait. That’s not it either. Because there’s an IV in him. So…they know he’s getting human food.

So. Uh.

Hm.

Danny doesn’t want to get his hopes up. But this…might not be the Guys in White.

Of course, they might not be better than the GIW either; it’s a total possibility that Danny’s getting suckered into some scheme where every gentle permission and soft voice is a debt he owes…some new reason to take…

His eyelids twitch as they try to shut. He’s so tired. Fear kept him mobile, but now…everything is so heavy.

The lady carefully shushes him, ever so gently. She pulls up his blanket for him. Pats it down.

Danny shivers. He’s so, so scared.

“Ræste þiht,” the woman whispers. The words sound fond. Danny’s so scared, but he’s so tired. His heart is beating so fast. “An freond becymþ hraðe.”

It’s reassuring.

Danny doesn’t want it to be.

He falls asleep the way the desperate do—clawing at the last traces of wakefulness, only to have his consciousness ripped from him.

[invye]

Dressrosa would obviously be quite different in the CoraMiShanks AU, given that, well, Rosinante is there to help kick Doffy's behind, but I'm not sure if I want to touch the happenings in present day canon yet.

HOWEVER! I am once again thinking about how in canon Zoro dragged Law into the party after---

Zoro dragging Law along to have a drink and they inevitably talk about swords (it's Zoro and Law carries an interesting blade, what did you expect?) when Zoro, slightly tipsy, lets slip that he trained with old Hawkeyes for two years.

Law, already fully sloshed (seriously he should have known better than to try matching Zoro for drinks), immediately goes: "Does Hawk-san's 'training' still include tossing you across the entire island and letting you fend against the stupid monkeys for yourself?"

And Zoro just absolutely loses it. What do you mean Law knows that he's spend most of those two years traipsing around lost on that stupid foggy island?? What do you mean Hawk-san???

And drunk Law long-windedly explains that he grew up with Mihawk around, even lived in his dilapidated castle for a while with Cora-san, before they returned to the North Blue so Law could finish school. He even had extended dealings with the Red Emperor during that time, and don't belive what anyone tells you, they're both stupid powerful, but also stupid dorks, it's unbelievable how Cora-san is so attached to these idiots...

And while Law drunkenly prattles on, Zoro is sitting there, head in his hands, realising Hawkeyes actually did a good job with Law, even though his technique is disappointingly reliant on his devil fruit; which means that Hawkeyes probably also did a good job with him, and that on top of that, he might actually really care..?

Druing the trip from Zou to Wano with the Heart Pirates, Zoro learns that they all know Hawkeyes, or Hawk-san as Law calls him and they copy; because when they first set out he showed up all intimidating with his huge sword and unwavering stare and icily told them to "stay safe" and "don't bite off more than you can chew" and "here is my contact, do not use it" and he has shown up somewhat regularly since, especially after Cora-san officially joined the crew when they entered the New World.

Zoro is left sitting there with the knowledge that Hawkeyes apparently has at least three vaguely adopted children, and that he does care. And Zoro has no idea how he is supposed to feel about the knowledge that he is one of those children now.

[casdeans-pie]

They're just little guys

Just weird little guys

They're so intense. why do they keep looking at each other like that

-- spn 4x03 --

[aurorangen]

Travelling from the big city all the way to the English countryside to solve the missing lettuce case. Bless this old lady!

Transcript:

[Noah holds in his laughter and avoids eye contact with the old lady while Renee, looking down, is too shocked to speak, Like the team leader he is, only Darius keeps a serious face and continues the questioning] Darius: Excuse me, Ma'am. Please could you repeat that for us? [very confused] What exactly happened?

Carla: I woke up and brushed my teeth. Put the kettle on for a morning brew. Ah! Do you fancy a cuppa dear? Darius: [politely declines] We are fine thank you. Ma'am, could you skip to when you found out? Carla: Of course [thinks back carefully] I'm devastated to say someone has stolen my prized possession.

Carla: My giant lettuce is missing.

[somewhatsentientspellbook]

Corellon really watched FCG do their own blaze-of-glory and said "do that shit again"

[albatris]

Riley Riley Riley Riley Riley

[thisisalovestry]

can’t quit my job just so i can rotate characters in my mind full time

[timetodiverge]

Sabine Week 2024, Day 5: Sapphic

(+bonus Shin!)

...in which I answer the question, how many lesbian pride flag colours can I fit into one pic?? (....too many. Ha.)

@sabineweek

[crowleysgirl56]

Wildest dreams wishes for Good Omens Season 3 which will probably not come true but I can still hope hey!

Number 30.

CRANK THAT RIDICULOUS DIAL TO ELEVEN! Yet another extreme silliness wish, this a part 2 to my wildest dream number 27. In with Crowley continues to be petulant, and Aziraphale gets to play the rescuer.

Sprawled on the footpath where the Bentley had so unceremoniously dumped him, Aziraphale looks up at Crowley, bemused as the demon continues to rant at the retreating sight of his car. He can’t help but smile fondly at the dramatic cascade of insults spewing forth, drawing the weary eyes of passers by.

“…and next time I see you I’m going to let down your tyres!!”

Aziraphale picks himself up and briskly brushes himself down. “You’d never do such a thing and you know it” he teases primly.

The sound of Aziraphale’s voice seems to startle Crowley slightly, who resolutely ignores the angel and hurriedly makes his way down the street. Aziraphale immediately gives chase.

“Crowley, please could we talk for a moment?” Crowley’s pace picks up speed as he manoeuvres around the larger than usual number of pedestrians ambling along Whickber Street.

“Only I feel like I need to explain-” Crowley snaps his fingers and suddenly Aziraphale is cut off mid sentence by some suddenly appearing council workers jackhammering in the middle of the road.

“If you could just listen for a mome-” another snap of fingers and suddenly a line of cars blaring their horns emerge from nowhere. Frustrated by the wall of sound, Aziraphale covers his ears and manages to lunge himself in front of Crowley blocking his path.

“Don’t you think you’re acting just a tad child-”.

Crowley smiles smugly as the cacophony of noise overwhelms Aziraphale, who purses his lips and attempts to yell over the car horns, jackhammers, tolling bells, and loud mobile conversations, “could we just go into the bookshop!-”

Crowley gestures to his ears and mouths something that looks along the lines of “I can’t hear you”. Aziraphale fed up with the game draws down a miracle, silencing the street. A number of pedestrians stop to wonder how everything suddenly became so quiet, the queue of cars and council workers miraculously gone.

“Please, just hear me out-”

Crowley growls and immediately jumps away, angrily shoving his fingers in his ears. “LALALA NOT LISSSSTENIIIINNGGGGG!” He steps out backwards into the street, just as a large lorry comes barrelling down the road towards him, blaring its horn.

“CROWLEY!” Aziraphale cries. Crowley turns but it’s evident he is too late to react in time. Panicked Aziraphale throws out a careless miracle, redirecting the driver, whilst lunging forward and grabs onto Crowley’s lapels pulling him back to safety.

Crowley slams into Aziraphale’s arms. They stand wrapped in each other’s embrace, breathing heavily as they recover from the sudden adrenaline. A creeping realisation dawns and they both slowly turn their heads to look out into the street at the gawping gathering crowd. Some have started taking videos with their phone. It’s evident that the lorry has somehow ended up on the roof of Mr Brown’s world of carpets emporium. They slowly turn back to look at each other once more.

Aziraphale speaks in a low and clipped tone, “Get. Inside. The bookshop. Now!” Crowley can only nod in response. They slowly peel themselves away from each and as casually as one can whilst a crowd is photographing you, make their way into the bookshop. For that long awaited chat.

NOW KISS!

[eye-of-yelough]

here we are again. (my highly specific interpretation of) durgetash as peep show momence!!

now featuring Orin!

[coldflasher]

was rewatching the pilot again yesterday for fic reasons and thinking again about the sherlock-style screen annotations they had when barry was doing CSI work that they literally only did in the first ep and then never revisited again, presumably because they realized it'd be far too much effort to work out the details on such a precise level

and thinking about like. that barry allen with the hyper-precise exact measurements that he did by eye (with joe shaking his head in awe so you know that he's a CSI supergenius) vs. the leonard snart who timed his heists to the exact nanosecond (which again, presuming they ditched because it's a logistical nightmare to write dialogue that nitpicky and obsessive, and would be such a fucking pain to do on a week-to-week basis). like. yet another reason they are soulmates tbh. is audhd4autistic a thing the same way t4t is a thing? if it isn't then i'm making it a thing

[tjerra14]

Hawk and Thrush, because it’s been too long

[xariarte]

Dillon Brooks names his three toughest opponents to guard - Jul 23 2024

[gabessquishytum]

Okay hear me out: Warprize Hob but he's got a small penis.

When he's first captured and learns what his role is, a part of him thinks the Nightmare King will see him and have him executed or something. But the first night in the king's bed Dream's look is absolutely predatory in the sexiest way. Usually Hob doesn't put up with any of his partners making comments about his size, he puts them in their place if they say anything he doesn't like. But with Dream it's different. Maybe it's because his voice is so low and smooth, but truthfully it's because no matter what Dream says he seems lazer focused on Hob's pleasure.

Dream smirks down and says the most degrading, humiliating things about Hob's cock, tells him how useless it is, how he's lucky his hole is so nice and tight, how Dream could do more with his fingers than Hob's cock... yet he still practically worships it with his hands and mouth. He says things that would normally have Hob snarling, but instead all he can do is whimper and beg as Dream swallows him down. Dream of course is fucking massive, and he rubs their cocks together so Hob can see how ridiculous his prick looks next to Dream's.

Bonus: Hob is subjected to being very thoroughly measured by the palace taylor- all the miniscule numbers announced out loud, of course- because Dream doesn't have any cock cages small enough for him, so he has no choice but to get one specially made for his precious pet~

Fun fact, the small peepee + humiliation/degradation thing is one of my underrated faves!!! Don't ask me why, my kinks are a mystery unto everyone (including me).

Hob squirms under Dream’s attention in a way he never has before. He's never felt particularly bothered about his size til now... but even so the few little inches of his cock are fully hard. When Dream comes up close and uses his finger to measure against Hob’s dick, Hob trembles and tries to disguise how horny all of this is making him.

"How cute." Dream almost giggles. He's poking and prodding at Hob like he's an inanimate object. He even starts addressing Hob’s dick directly - likes he's not even a person! The humiliation burns and his little cock twitches. "What a useless little thing you are. So small, hiding down here. Hardly even bigger than my thumb..."

And then he kisses Hob’s cock like he's worshiping it. Takes it into his mouth and suckles lazily on the hot flesh. Hob whines and squirms and inevitably cums down Dream’s throat - not that's much of his cum, though. Barely a mouthful.

Dream makes sure that everyone knows about his new warprize, and especially about his pretty cocklet. He decorates Hob in jewels and gold, and ties a red ribbon around his prick to highlight just how small it is. Everyone around the palace knows about Hob’s measurements by now and he has to live with the shame... not that it's much of a hardship. Dream is constantly praising him for his other virtues - his strong body, his talented mouth, his vice-tight hole.

And he acts like Hob’s small cock is the hottest thing he's ever seen. For all he insults Hob for his size, ridiculing him until tears prick at the corner of his eyes... Dream is obsessed with those inches a hot, sweet flesh. Constantly taking Hob’s dick in his mouth, teasing it with his fingers, even letting Hob put it inside him occasionally (that inevitably leads to massive humiliation as Hob simply can't satisfy his master like that).

Its really a huge relief for Hob to know that his useless little penis is still loved and adored. Dream definitely won't be letting him go any time soon, no matter how his body looks.

[hearty-an0n]

dialled in alex nedeljkovic. penguins goalies share the net and friendship and josh getzoff’s little catchprahses