#do people actual post fics on tumblr?

[autisticsponge]

what are friends for? || Dialtown fic

A short little story focused on Randy I wrote while bored, and severely hype fixated on the poor guy.

Warning for depressing topics and themes of death/self destruction, I s'pose (Light fluff at the end though!)

CHAPTER 1/2

“Well this is- is it. Today is the day. The world is REALLY gonna end today. I’m sure of it.” The frail Nokia-headed man whimpers to himself as he peeks his head out of the dumpster he resides in. The sky looks a bit too red for his liking. The air feels rather warm and dry as well. He reaches his bony arm out of the dumpster and opens and closes his bandaged fist to get a sense for the day. “Y-yep… definitely WAY too warm for February… perfect doomsday weather.”

The pathetic man slides back down into the dumpster and curls up in his chair shaped out of trash. He sniffles and fidgets with his sore bandaged hands. “If… if I’m gonna die I don’t wanna be in t-this… this lousy dumpster that is getting FAR too expensive for me. But, I don’t exactly want to die at work either…” The phone-headed man sighs wearily. “Dammit it Randy. Y-you don't get to decide when and where you d-die! You should know this…” He takes a deep breath and sits upright. “Just g-get yourself to work. Death will come when it wants..”

The Nokia man grabs the ripped jean coat he was using as a blanket previously, and throws it on over his stained, blue flannel that sports a busted button. The coat is quite big on his thin frame and helps make him appear fuller than he is. This weirdly tall man clambers out of the dumpster and falls on his phone-face. There’s a soft thud as his body hits the concrete. He quickly sits up and grabs desperately at the bandage sprawled across the top of his head, which has “FUCKFACE” scribbled on it. He runs his boney fingers along the bandage and presses on it gently as he whimpers.

“O-oh no… shit- shit-” Despite believing today is his last day on earth, Randy doesn’t quite fancy the idea of dying from his bandage falling off. Exploding doesn't sound like the best way to go out. Then again, pretty much all ways of dying are terrifying in some regard. 

The Nokia man calms down enough to stand up and stop touching his bandage. He sighs heavily. “Oh whatever… I-I’m gonna die anyways… What does it matter? Just get to work, Randy.”

The pathetic not-so-little man trudges across the wonderfully rancid town of Dialtown, more specifically Downtown, as that's where his dumpster is. Of course he never believed he was cool enough to ACTUALLY live in Downtown. More like he’s a squatter there. 

Randy makes his way to the subway station, trying to avoid eye-contact with everyone. He’s accidentally given too many people the “wrong look” and nearly lost both his kidneys. He nervously scrounges up the minimal amount of change he has to purchase a subway ticket. Since the world is ending, he really shouldn't bother, but deep down Randy is terrified of what will happen if he doesn’t pay for a ticket.

The Nokia man hurries onto the train, nearly tripping over his own feet as he gets on. Instead of searching around for a desolate corner to take refuge in for the ride to Uptown like normal, Randy just hustles to the closest available spot. He ends up leaning against the train wall, squished between two other people. The train starts and he falls into one of said people. He mutters a quick apology and fidgets with his sore hands. Occasionally the pathetic man glances out the train window, only to feel dizzied by the blurring tunnel walls, reflecting back his own bleak existence with their dull grey coloring. Suddenly the world ending doesn't seem that awful to Randy. If everything just stopped, it wouldn't be so bad anymore. It seems quiet. More meaningful than anything he could do while alive.

Before he realizes it, the train comes to a halt and Randy slams into the OTHER person he's squished between. He stumbles over an embarrassed apology and darts off the train before he loses any organs.

As Randy stumbles down the streets of Uptown towards the park, The B o y appears. A short statured lad sporting a red flannel tucked into black jeans, his sleeves rolled up just above his elbow, and a nifty cream colored wall phone anchored on as a head with a little red fez hat sitting on top.

"Oh yo, hey, Rands!" The Boy waves to the significantly taller and more socially awkward resident of Dialtown.

"O-oh uh hey Oliver.." Randy forces a weak smile… despite lacking the ability to ACTUALLY smile…(just dont think about it too hard). "I uh… don't u-usually see you out this early.. are you preparing for the end of the world t-too?"

"I'm ALWAYS ready for the end o' the world, dude!" The fez wearing boy dose some gnarly finger guns. "Now if you're askin' why I'm out an' about, that's simple: Mr. Dickens's sendin' me on some errands. He says I should get out of that sticky ol' cinema more and breathe air that may kill me less, and this was a good excuse." Oliver shrugs. "So how about you, my groovy dude? Are YOU preparin' for the end o’ the world?"

The Nokia man fidgets with his hands, picking gently at his bloody bandages. "I guess men- mentally I'm preparing…" Randy whimpers and looks down at the small man. "Uh… it was nice knowing you, Oliver… I need to get going now." He turns to walk away to the park.

"Um… nice knowin' ya too Rands-? Catch ya later…" The fez wearing lad stares at Randy as he trails away. He hesitantly turns away to carry on with his current objective, though he’s more concerned for Randy than usual.

Randy soon reaches Dialtowns… unsightly park. It's definitely an acquired taste of scenery; a taste most people never intend to have. Between the aggressive wildlife and used needle filled grass there's a lot the park lacks.

The Nokia man's weak heart pounds in his chest as he draws closer to his job site. The pouding rings loudly in his hearing receptors. His breath falls short. "Im gonna d-die here… this is t-the end for me, I can feel it-!" He takes a few shallow, rapid breaths and trembles. "A-at- at least… everyone else will be d-dying too. I-I'm finally not alone in this…" A strange form of comfort overtakes Randy's body and his heart seems to quiet down. A few quick lived tranquil steps leads the awkward man to his job location. The pond.

The paper-shredder-headed swans that reside at the pond peak their beakless heads up at the pathetic man who's entered their vicinity. As far as they’re concerned it's snack time, and Randy's flesh is the hottest menu item.

"Ok guys… let's just get t-this over with ok?" A warm breeze swirls around the Nokia-headed man and he shudders. The swans flap their wings and squawk with murderous intent. “Yep… c-come and.. come and get me-” Randy chokes over his words and sits down at the pond edge. He can hardly believe he’s willingly about to be torn to shreds, but what's the point in fighting it anymore? It was always supposed to end like this for dear old Randy Jade.

The swans share a few skeptical glances, but they know this sad excuse for a “person” can’t do much. The fowls approach him, their wings raised as their heads whirr. Randy clutches his fists, shuts his optical receptors, and sharply inhales.

CHAPTER 2/2

“Hey… c’mon wake up dude...”

Randy groans as he regains consciousness. His whole body feels stiff, and his hands ache and burn. “Wh-wha…?” His optical receptors slide open and the pathetic man is greeted by the familiar face of a special lad.

“Oh thank god– Randy! You’re awake!” Oliver hugs onto Randal tightly, causing the thin man to whimper and flinch. The Boy quickly let’s go. “Sorry… Uh.. how are ya feelin’?”

The Nokia-headed man slowly sits up, his breath hitches from the stiff pain. “Um… to be honest… N-not the best. I really c-can’t remember much. What happened..?”

“I was fixin’ to ask you the same thing, pal-! I was walkin’ back from the flea market after finding some RADICAL goods and.. Well I decided to check in on you, since you were actin' all funky and like, WAY more depressin' than normal, and that’s when I spotted ya laying by the pond. Not very stellar if I’m honest. You really freaked me out man..” Oliver sighs. “Anyways, I brought you to the cinema with me quick as I could. Mr. Dickens fixed up your hands and uh.. I did my best to patch up your jacket.”

"O-oh…. oh.." Randy looks over himself. His hands are wrapped thick in bandages and there's some amateurly sewn patches all over his jacket. Memories of what happened at the pond soon return to the pathetic man's memory. “Im- Im sorry Oliver…” Randal sniffles and whines. 

Oliver puts a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, hey, calm down, bud! It’s all groovy… I’m just curious what happened to you? I mean I know you’ve said those swans can be wicked brutal but I’ve never seen you look THAT banged up-!” The lad gives Randy a concerned stare.

The Nokia-headed man takes a deep breath. The burning ache in his hands grows more intense, and seems to consume his whole body. “I-I um… I was just so sure that the w-world was gonna end today. I d-didn’t see a point in even trying anymore… we BOTH know those swans would’ve won a-anyways..” Randy mumbles. Oliver rubs his shoulder a bit, in an attempt to soothe the pathetic man. 

"Hey calm down, Rands… It's all groovy-" Oliver says hesitantly. Randy sniffles and stares at the sticky floor. "Look uh… sometimes life deals shitty cards. And it's what we do with those cards that defines our character. Even the seemingly worst of cards can be turned into some tubular tale, pal!" The lad says with great enthusiasm. "Your no lost cause, Randy, and I know some day you're gonna kick some swan-ass!" Randy gets an encouraging, hardy pat on the back. 

The Nokia-man perks up. "Thank you Oliver…"

After a few silent minutes, The Boy helps the taller, sadder man to his feet. "You wanna watch a movie? We have some leftover popcorn Mr. D wants me to get sold… I'll scrounge up some money to give to him. He doesn't need to know WE ate it. Long as it gets 'sold.'"

"Um… n-not one of those scary CGI Mock Buster movies, right? . . .right?" 

Oliver sighs. "No… no. We can watch something less scary for you. Hey how do you feel about some classic ol' cartoons? THOSE can't possibly be too horrifyin', right?"

". . ."

"..Randy?"

". . ."

"Randy."

He glances away.

"Oh c'mon Rands! Cartoons? Really?!"

". . . Their moral lessons are so intimidating! I-I could never live up to those standards…"

Oliver sighs heavily. "Okay, you can't get upset watchin' Tom and Jerry, Randy. NO ONE gets upset watching that show. Old dudes on their DEATH BEDS will watch that show."

Randal takes a breath. "Okay. Sure. W-we can watch that then. I-I'm practically on my death bed anyhow..."

Oliver sighs softly, and guides his sad friend to one of the empty showing rooms. After getting a bucket of stale, and questionably sticky popcorn, the two settle down to watch some cartoons on the big screen, playing off an old reel Oliver kinda just.. had lying around for whatever reason.

Randy sinks down into the velvet seat he's in (which is almost as sticky as the cinema floor), feeling significantly calmer than when he woke up. If Randy DIDN'T have Oliver to keep him in check occasionally, he's about 87% sure he'd be mega dead by now.

As the Nokia-headed man starts to drift asleep, holding a now almost empty bucket of old poppy-corn, he can't help but feel just the tiniest sliver of hope swell in his chest. Valentines day is a mere two days away. Who knows, maybe the pathetic man will get asked out by some GREEN cryptid, who'd help him gain confidence and learn self worth. But who knows. That'd be kinda WEIRD huh? A bit far-fetched if you will.

[fogwitchoftheevermore]

(context for watcher/listener!sausage can be found in the “videos” tag on my blog if you want it, but this ficlet can be read without said context)

- - -

“Y’know, of all the Hermits I was expecting to be pulling me into a dark corner tonight, I did not expect you to be first, Grian! I love the initiative!”

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” Grian says in a voice near a hiss. He’s got Sausage by the wrist, leading him into a small area of the upper floor of the tavern in Sanctaury that does look like it was built for the exact purpose Sausage is implying. Grian decides to ignore that as well.

“What are you doing here?” Grian’s straight to the point. He always has to be, with these Things, if he doesn’t want to get trapped in a loop of slant rhyming pleasantries.

“What do you mean?” Sausage asks, shaking his wrist out of Grian’s tight grip and leaning comfortably against the wall. “This is where I live. It’s my home. If anything, I should be asking you mysterious strangers what you’re doing here, but I’m sure you’ve heard that question enough for one day.”

“You know exactly what I mean.” Grian crosses his arms and tries his best not to look petulant, but he sure feels like it. “I thought They’d given up on trying to snatch me back, so why would They send you of all people? What’s your game?”

Sausage laughs, honest to god laughs, like he can’t believe Grian’s even asking him such a question. Grian thinks it’s a reasonable question, in this scenario, but what he thinks and what’s reasonable rarely seems to matter with these things.

“They didn’t send me,” Sausage looks him up and down in that way that makes Grian have to physically stop himself from curling inwards. This is why he never talks to Them. “Nobody sends me anywhere, they don’t tell me what to do and I like it that way! I just do my own thing. Isn’t that what you’re doing?”

“No you’re not! You’re not- you can’t be! That’s not how this works!” Grian begins to notice that he’s no longer whisper-shouting and starting to just-normal-shout and takes a deep breath, trying not to draw the attention of his friends enjoying themselves on the floor below. And, realistically, in the other dark corners Sausage seems to have built into this place.

“That’s exactly how this works. You didn’t think you were the only person who’d left, did you?”

Grian opens his mouth, closes it, and thinks. In hindsight… yeah, he had kind of assumed he’d been the only person who’d left. Not for lack of trying, probably- but They’d tried for so long to get him back, kept him closely surveilled even when They’d accepted he was gone- surely some people had caved to that pressure eventually. When there was no sign They’d ever let up, ever let you go… he could understand eventually letting it overtake you.

“Did- did you leave, too?” Grian doesn’t remember the last time he saw Sausage’s face. He didn’t know him back then, of course. He probably would’ve connected the man with the person Pearl so often spoke about sooner. But he knows it’s been a long time, maybe even longer than the last time Grian had gone There. He doesn’t think Sausage had been There, that day. This might explain why.

“Eh, not quite?”

“What-“ Grian flails, both mentally and with his arms a bit. “What do you mean not quite?”

“Exactly what I said! I was never- it’s complicated, y’know?”

“Explain. Now.”

“Well, uh,” Sausage seems to flounder for the first time since this conversation started, which Grian is choosing to take as a victory. “Look, I wasn’t- they didn’t pick me. For this, or for anything, ever. Sometimes things just happen and you get yourself into a place you shouldn’t have and then… they can’t get rid of me, I can’t get rid of them, it is what it is.”

Grian stares at him for a long moment. Really stares at him, in the same way Sausage had looked him over earlier, in the same way that makes you feel like you’re under a microscope. Judging by the sudden nerves in his eyes, Grian can assume he feels it too. Grian remembers his face. That had been the first thing he’d noticed, when the Hermits had arrived. It had been a long time since they’d seen each other, but Grian knew his face. And now that Grian was studying him, really trying to remember… he’s not sure he quite likes what memories he’s dredging up.

“What are you?”

“Grian!” Sausage’s voice drips with mock offense as he puts his hand up to partially cover his mouth. “We only just met, do you think that’s polite?”

“Answer the question,” Grian sighs. How Pearl deals with this man on the regular, he doesn’t know.

“Well, if you insist.” Sausage sighs, somehow even more exaggerated than his previous movements. “It’s just… if you’ll believe it, it’s somehow even harder to answer the first question.”

“It shouldn’t be,” Grian says. “They’re two very different People, you know.”

“But they’re the same species, when it all comes down to it. Like, you might be very different than a chicken, but you’re both birds in the long run.”

Grian pauses, fanning his wings out a bit behind him as he considers. “I don’t think that metaphor’s quite landing the way you want it to.”

“No, me neither. Anyways, let me continue.

When they don’t pick you, things go a little differently! You don’t get sorted onto one side or the other since, well, you’re not really supposed to be there? So I’m… whatever I want to be, really. I think I’m feeling like more of a Listener, today, but we’ll see how the mood shifts.”

Grian flinches at the Name, on instinct. He doesn’t know how to feel about that, so he files it away to be dealt with at a later date. As for the rest of what Sausage said-

“What?”

“You heard me.” Sausage shrugs. He’s so nonchalant, Grian thinks he might strangle him, if not for the worry that that’s exactly what he wants out of this, somehow.

“Did I? Did I hear you?” Grian wants to pace, but that requires leaving the security of the corner, so he forces his feet to root themselves to the floor. “I thought- I thought you had to- if you wanted to change sides, I thought you had to-“

Grian closes one eye and takes his thumb to it, twisting the finger into his eyelid. The gesture seems to get the point across.

“Well, that’s the funny thing about this, actually.” From the way he’s been talking, Grian assumed Sausage thought this whole thing was funny. He restrains himself from saying that out loud if only so Sausage will finish his explanation.

Sausage reaches up to his left eye, pulls his eye lid back a bit, and unceremoniously pops out his prosthetic eye.

“All these processes and rituals actually have a lot of loopholes.”

Grian doesn’t know what face he’s making, but it’s enough to make Sausage giggle while he pops the eye back in. Because of course he does. Because this how his day is going, apparently. Walk through a weird portal in his basement and wake up in a world filled with his friends who don’t recognize him and also a guy he only ever saw There, who he was never supposed to see again. Sure. Of course he’s laughing about it. Grian thinks if he was a slightly different person, he’d be laughing too. It is, undeniably, absurd.

“Well, I think we’re done here then!” Grian would probably object if he weren’t so shocked about the loopholes. As it is, he just stands there a bit stupidly.

Sausage turns away to return to the party before turn around again for just a moment, reaching over, and ruffling Grian’s hair. That shocks him enough to shake him out of his stupor and swat Sausage’s hand away, though not before his hair is suitably messed up.

“What was that for?!”

Sausage smiles as he reaches up to rough up his own hair as well. “I assumed you didn’t want your friends asking questions about why you were dragging me into a dark corner, you know?” Sausage even goes far enough to pull his shirt a bit out of where it’s tucked into his pants, because of course he does. Grian tries not to cringe, but Sausage is right about this one thing. It is the easiest way to dodge any questions about where he’d gone off to- at the expense of the many knowing looks and teasing remarks he’ll be getting from the other Hermits instead.

“Have a good night, Grian!” Sausage calls over his shoulder as he turns to leave for real this time. “And remember, drinks are on me for all you guests tonight! You look like you need it.”

[brb-on-a-quest]

I had a thought last night, and even though the only canon bat source I've had is WFA, and I've only *just* started getting into fanfic, so characterizations may not be accurate/have been done before, but IDK. I need this to exist out there.

Timothy Drake-Wayne writes fics sometimes.

It started off with the necessity of creating so many fake IDs. One thing led to another and Tim was coming up with backstories for all the Johns, Marys, and Joes that he invented while doing his Gotham digital surveillance. After all, he was trying to make these people's fake IDs look as real as possible, which meant more than just a name on a couple of sheets of paper.

It means creating a fake digital footprint. For each one.

So, on the rare occasions when things are calmer, and he's not immediately needed, he sits on his computer and types out head cannons for each of the OCs he has created. He spends a lot of time doing research on different cultures, neurodivergencies, physical abilities, and backgrounds to try and 1) paint accurate pictures and 2) learn. He hides the world building tidbits in a secret folder that he's taken so many measures to hide from Oracle (she already knows, but she doesn't actively look after finally figuring out what the folder of names, complete with physical descriptions, life stories, and preferences is out of respect for Timothy). (Also, all this writing knowledge actually comes in handy for crime-solving things, but he doesn't fully realize it at the time).

Tim even went as far as to make social media accounts for some of his favorites and posts bits and pieces of the head cannons to make them, again, seem like real people. Just in case. As a precaution. You never know.

Jason finds out somehow, in a freak accident and collision of siblings that so often happens. Tim is sweating bullets, trying to steel himself for the endless teasing. He is fully prepared to delete every single file that's in that folder and deny that it ever exists for all eternity.

Except Jason doesn't. Jason's too much of a literary nerd (granted, he prefers more classic literature than social media fics, but this is another thing he can connect with his little brother on- he's *excited*) to tease Tim about the writing. He kind of persuades Tim to take more time for his hobby because Tim has some markings of talent in his very specific creative niche. Tim may have also convinced Jason to try it exactly once, to create a fake Twitter profile for Mr. Darcy and create shitposts from his point of view. He has a great time with it once, and then he moves on (but sometimes he creates other accounts for other characters that Tim doesn't know about).

They make a pact between the two of them not to tell the others; they'd ask too many questions and make it less fun.

But every once in a while, Tim would walk into Jason's place to crash for a bit, steal all of his Red Bull, update Jason on his writing projects, and get writing advice.

[rip-headphones-users]

My Headcannons for how Infected and Kasper operate

Buckle up, this is a long post. Thinking about how characters function in relation to the world around them is basically a hobby of mine, so expect more. (I have others planned for both lampert and unpleasant at the very least)

(Not ship related) (angst heavy sorry)

Kasper’s infection is a brain-rooted/cognito-hazardous parasite

He got it after purposely ignoring a chainmail curse, both as a sort of “fuck around and find out” as well as an outright form of self-harm/self-sabotage.

The parasite is the one that primarily controls all the conscious actions of infected, while kasper now acts sub-consciously.

Its less of a split-mind situation and more of a Venom + Eddie or Gundam + Pilot situation they are two separate entities inhabiting the same body that can potentially act at the same time

It just so happens that the parasite from the chainmail curse has VERY similar desires/interests/motivations to Kasper, so the host/parasite relationship actually works very well.

Infected accidentally makes Kasper lose a decent chunk of weight after it takes over, due to it not being able to feel when Kasper is hungry and forgetting to let him eat

Kasper and Infected can be addressed separately (Lampert, UnpleasantGradient, Folly and maybe a few others know this) and Kasper tends to choose not to respond due to his own apathy, instead opting to let Infected take the lead.

Being able to respawn/no permadeath on the regretevator is the reason why Kasper opted to infect himself, as he saw it as the next closest thing to death/suicide.

Allowing infected to enter his mind has radically reduced Kasper’s lifespan. (He’d be lucky if he made it to his late 30’s)

His nose bleeds when Kasper and infected try to act at the same time

Infected is only transferrable via chainmail

Infected doesn’t feel any of the bodily necessities that kasper has, so its not uncommon for him to collapse of exhaustion, dehydration, hunger, ect. If someone doesn’t remind him.

Infected doesnt feel pain either

Kasper feels it though. A lot.

In fact the whole process of infected entering his mind was incredibly painful as is.

Infected isn’t the reason why things in the elevator/on his own body suddenly lose their texture, neither of them know why that happens now.

They personally aren’t physically effected by it and both find it cool, so neither are bothered.

It’s probably just the result of infected’s malware (thats only technically supposed to effect machines) managing to attach itself to a human. Or maybe Kasper could do that and never previously knew. Who knows. ;)

Kasper/infected can phase through objects that are textureless, including parts of his own body. Anything else will collide as it normally would, and take damage.

Infected will always talk with full leetspeak, (L13k D1$) while Kasper will only have one letter/number substitution (L1ke Th1s)

UG unintentionally named infected that. Basically just looked at Kasper, who had just let a parasite into his mind, and looked at the chainmail virus on his computer, and it went “huh… Bro’s Infected”

Bro is, in fact, infected.

[s0fter-sin]

new poll time lads

[marinsawakening]

Weighing in on the debate “Are you allowed to ship aromantic characters?” As an aromantic person, this is a difficult subject. On the one hand, we have characters who clearly and repeatedly state that they hate romance, do not feel romantic attraction, and don’t want to be in a relationship. On the other hand, we have your personal inability to engage with deep relationships without making them romantic. As a compromise, I say people are allowed to ship canon aromantic characters, provided they pay me at least $100 in cash for the license.

[kvetchinglyneurotic]

i need to figure out how to apply for alumni access to my university's library so i can research the historiography for my phd applications, sure, but more importantly* so i can research sailor superstitions for my sci-fi novel

[vimbry]

I'm so uncurious about the post editor. I've only ever bothered with settings I need, like sourcing, make unrebloggable, edit text sometimes. and then when adding a source link to a previous post, I Just registered that the date part says "set a publishing date to a time in the past" but thought, there's no way that actually works right. and it does. what the hell lmao. why can you do this. I still don't know what add custom url does. does anyone use that, is it basically the same thing as tagging ?

[deepseawave]

obsessed w the tags on ur last reblog

Omgg, thank you haha, it was a quality post so I just had to appreciate it in full force 😂❤️

Can‘t believe someone would actually enjoy my yapping :,D

[daddyplasmius]

okay, so, I've collected a bunch of DP fandom stuff that I remember off the top of my head, specifically in chronological order & colour coded here in this post (fics/comics, tumblr posts, important imo) for no reason other than I saw a post asking for Phandom history & it triggered my biggest, most long-running hyperfixation & now I'm curious if anyone else remembers stuff.

this link is going to be the permanent version I will be updating, but I'm posting what I currently have (gonna go through my old laptop later for more) just to let people know. you can also find the link on my blog, but only on desktop. It isn't colour coded there, sorry.

please share more if you got anything else cuz I'm 100% sure I'm missing a lot of stuff & am too interested now. the biggest reason a lot of stuff isn't here is that I simply can't find it. second biggest reason is i forgor. things not included here aren't "unimportant," this is just the first stuff that comes to mind.

putting it under a cut 'cause it got kinda long

Mars by JadeRabbyt (2005)

Checkmate by pearl84 (2006)

Conversations of a Ghost Gabber by Cordria (2006)

The Foley Maneuver by bluemoonalto (2007)

One Thousand Years by Nylah (2008)

Lab Rat by AnneriaWings (2009)

Lost by Cordria (2010?) [1] [2] [3] [4] [5]

Phantom of Truth by Haiju (2011)

Ghost Deaths (2012)

Through Coals and Rain by Kakawot (2012)

Shadow of a Doubt by Haiju (2013)

Pink Pants (2013?)

Wes (2014) [original] [1] [2] [3] [4]

this "I'm Inevitable" gif (2014)

Space AU (2014)

Treading Water by The Full Catastrophe (2014)

Danny, you dead IDIOT!! comic (2014)

wash away the darkest days by anthrop (2014)

Reverse Trio (2014)

Inverse Trio (2014-2016) ALT

Halfas are "feral children" (2015)

Burn the Streets, Burn the Cars by anthrop (2015)

It's Not Gay if He's Dead by phantomrose96 (2015)

You Smell Like Death by starfleetrambo (2015)

Ghost Bird AU by @rest-in-peachs (2016?)

Things I Can(not) Do In Amity Park by RedHeadsRock1010 (2016)

KEtTLE by Cordria (2016)

Deeper, Darker by Silvermoonphantom (2016)

Danny Phantom Punches Butch Hartman In The Face by MistressVintage (2017)

Dannypocalypse (2017)

Ghost Train (2017?)

Ghost Physics by jayrockin (2017)

Ghost Infographics (2018)

The Taxonomy of Ghost Cores: An Observational Study (2018) Communicating with Ghosts Professionally: A Study (2018)

Species in Danny Phantom (2018?)

Diddles Piddles by diddly-darn-ghost (2018)

Broken Ectoplasm by ghostanimal (2019)

Ghost of Heroes by Enigmaris & ScarletNightFury (2019-2020)

do not stand at my grave and cry (i am not there, i did not die) by blueh (2020)

Undercover Phantom by artistfingers (2021)

Corruption is a Two Way Street by datawyrms (2021)

Things That Bleed by artistfingers, kkachis, & Perfectly_Inconspicuous (2022)

10,000 works on AO3 (2022)

Ghost Speak:

Danny's handwriting (2015?)

Cordria (2015)

Fiver-Rivers [1] [2] [3] (2019)

Rubber Chicken Sounds (2019)

[swiftfootedachilles]

it's wild that you're not sure why people in the gallavich fandom are blocking or not interacting with you when you are out here calling incredibly talented artists "fatphobic" for seeing fictional characters in a different way than you do/where we left them in canon. fandom is a place for everyone to have opinions, and they're not always going to match yours. instead of continuing to call people out for things you don't like, you could try reblogging things that you do and saying nice things in the tags. people are out here creating for the love of it all, and it's really upsetting to see negative attitudes when we could just be enjoying our time online together.

wow you wrote all this and i really dont care! lame as hell that you had to hide behind anon though. i would love to know who you are so i can be sure to not interact with you in the future. i imagine we share many mutuals and are probably in the same discord channels. you might even follow me! very lame of you to send this anonymously because you dont want me and your friends and followers seeing you beefing over blatant fatphobia!

drawing chubby and fat characters as skinny is fatphobic. literally textbook fatphobia. i didnt even call any individual artist fatphobic; just was referring to the act of erasing a character's body type... which like 80% of all artists in all fandoms do... its not a cardinal sin to not know how to draw fat people or anything lol i was just making a pretty basic observation. i can like an artist and still give valid criticisms of their works. but you seem to have taken that post reeeaaally personally... maybe you need to go do some self-reflection or something!

i dunno what to tell yall. ive been in the shameless fandom for barely a year and had this blog for over a decade. i have always been a social justice blogger first and a fandom blogger second. so if you dont like me pointing out flaws and prejudices in fandom spaces then idk, stop interacting with me! :P

[yea-baiyi]

does anyone else have extremely strong visual/sensory imagination and therefore have a ton of highly specific individual headcanons for every character in every piece of media you consume that you can’t justify and can’t talk about without sounding utterly insane

[rewritingcanon]

Magic Hour by tuesday_piracy

Rating: T

Pairing: Scorpius Malfoy/Albus Potter

Summary: Albus Potter and Scorpius Malfoy live very different lives from one another, but when time and fate gets intertwined and tangled, they find themselves magically swapping bodies and on a journey to meet each other for the first time. Meanwhile, a star approaches.

Tags: Soulmate AU, Body Swapping, Your Name AU, Not Canon-Compliant, Light Fluff, Light Humour, Light Angst etc

(Start Fic)

Chapter 14: “Albus was facing Polly. She looked like she was carved out of a painting too, the soft hair that fell off her shoulder golden in the sun, like honey.

His heart was beating wildly. He wasn’t prepared for this. He was way too out of his depth here.

He thought of Scorpius again, and what he would do. Scorpius would know.

And Albus wished he were here instead.”

Chapter 15: “Scorpius would either cheer up for his friends tonight (or at least pretend to) if he couldn’t do it for himself, so their worries for him wouldn’t taint their night. Seeing the comet with Lucy and Cameron wasn’t going to be the end of him, especially since they were people who actually cared about him. Friends who actually cared.

A painful lump formed in his throat at that sentiment and he pushed all notions surrounding the idea of Albus away.”

[the-sun-and-the-sea]

confession: last year I spent two months outlining/writing/editing a 60k word stranger things fic that basically nobody read, and I know why the stats were so low but at the same time I’m like 🤨 are you kidding rn

[arsenicflame]

im still not particularly interested in being a writer but god. sometimes i wish i had the skills because an idea would be so good if i could do it justice.

[raine-world]

Autocorrect stop changing "Quirrel" to "Squirrel" challenge: Impossible.