#idk what happened here lmao

[sophsun1]

Sam Reid | In Creative Company Interview

[randomfandomss]

[lass-us-slay]

So I read a prompt about how Wonder Woman found Danny in a trash can (don’t remember which one) and I was bored.

So I took that lil info and made it into an AU.

So basically, Danny get yeeted into this unknown universe and has no where to live. And no where to live means no money. No money means no food. No food means Danny can’t keep his human half sustained.

So what does he do?

Decides to not change into a human and live in a trash can.

Yes you heard that right, live in a trash can.

Because he’s a ghost, he doesn’t have to worry about the germs and stuff. But that doesn’t mean he lives in just any trash can! He lives in a clean one ☝️

AND he also decorated it with his name so other people know it’s his!

And so Danny has been here for a while now and realizes

Holy shit there’s hero’s here- you know what, why doesn’t he have hero’s back home?!

And being minorly annoyed jealous (but he’s never admitting that)he thought:

Well since there’s hero’s here already, guess I’m not needed.

.

.

.

Good. I’m tired af

And so Danny caries on his life, being content with his trash can and scaring whoever comes into his alley. It’s fun. Sure he sometimes needs to ugh overshadow people to feed his human side, but other than that.

It’s going great.

But Danny doesn’t realize that with Amity gone (or smth, you choose) which was his haunt, he slowly makes the trash can into his new haunt.

And slowly but surely, Danny’s beloved haunt trash can starts to become other worldly kinda.

Yk because of the ectoplasm.

So now Danny’s lovely trash can haunt has more space inside and- Hey Danny can actually sleep in it better!! And he got some company too!

In the form of blob ghosts.

Two actually.

They keep his trash can clean and help purifying some corrupted ectoplasm that he finds. Because for some reason this universe’s ectoplasm seems half way artificial and tastes a bit weird. Which is where the blob ghosts help out in.

Everything was great.

Danny was loving the trash can life style.

He has two blob ghosts friends. Which he named Sam and Tucker, and yea they couldn’t talk but that was fine.

He wasn’t lonely, he wasn’t. He had two very much talking friends like Sam and Tucker.

However one day two weirdly dressed people- oh they were hero’s.

Well anyway they found him, one woman stripper and one furry guy.

But it was on accident! He was just peaking out of his beloved haunt trash can, and they spotted him.

He stared, they stared back.

Then the woman stripper asked him questions, even when he said:

“Don’t mind me, have a nice day!”

But they just kept bother him and giving him weird looks and glances.

Which- rude.

Didn’t they see his mark on his haunt trash can? Obviously it means it’s his home, so they shouldn’t be bothering him still. He’s safe as can be.

Plus.

It’s not like he’s looking at them in suspicion and weirdness, I mean look at them! What kinda cheep knock off vampire fury mix and American stripper style clothing are those!

They should mind their own business!

———

Just a silly lil drawing of this lmao, don’t mind me.

[juniemunie]

[Abandoned by the Lightners, his heart became cracked with hatred.]

Hitting a lil' too close to home?

[kth1]

i don't know why ♡ for @kimtaegis

[theusernameiwantisntavailable]

Returning to my roots, just a quick soft doodle :)

[wpmz]

everybody talks about escaping the time loop but no one ever talks about what happens after you escape the time loop. how do you cope with normal life after spending eternities learning and relearning the exact same series of events? do you struggle to remember what it was like before? what happens when life is no longer predictable, when you can no longer rely on the routine you have gotten to know so well? do you fall into old habits, perform rituals that once served meaning but now divorced from their original context appear strange? do you talk to someone, thrown off by how their responses are familiar yet not the same repeated phrases you have grown to expect? do you wonder how you ever lived without being able to know what happens next? do you fall back into that same routine, desperate for the sense of familiarity that had grown so comfortable to you? yes, time moves forward now, but did you ever truly leave the time loop? can you, now that it is all you know?

[bacchuschucklefuck]

okay unironically I love so much that porter is like this world SUCKS its BAD here and it HURTS you why do you care abt it!!! and literally every single bad kid is like ngl we just hate ur ass it does not matter what ur philosophy is

[thesapphiccrytid]

i am sooooo normal about them

[strawglicks]

yay plushies :] + happy pride month!

bonus: rainbow capitalism HELP

[mossswald]

[shalomniscient]

jingliu angst where she only tolerates you cus u remind her of baiheng sjjahagsab im dead

[nsft utc]

tw. mentions of vomiting (?), unhealthy/toxic dynamic, identity loss

you have always been a stray, hungry for scraps.

it began back on your home planet, ravaged and carved by interastral powers of all its resources, leaving behind a gnawing, gaping hole in the ground and the hearts and bellies of its people. you once mourned your more normal childhood—but the hunger in your stomach and in your soul consumed that too. your meals were few and far between, snatched from the hands of other starving husks, and it was the only joy you ever had as a child. the trickery and the thrill. it’s the only joy you get to keep into adulthood, a twisted elation that grants you a place in the cosmic court of jesters; the masked fools.

it’s—predictably—fun. trickery and thrill are the bread and butter of the fools. your mask affords you many, many opportunities for both, and though you have never had your belly achingly empty since, that hunger in your soul is not so easily sated. now, what you crave is the rush, the adrenaline, the oxytocin. and so you dance on marble floors with a different face each time, with partners who either wish you dead or in their beds, the space between you measured in an unfathomable amount of risk which you exchange for an unfathomable amount of thrill. you scamper along the length of this cosmic ballroom like a starving, feral fox in tall grass, the red of your fur as inviting as the white of your teeth are sharp. you hunt and you haunt, seeking something to fit between your aching teeth, something that will burst on the sharp point of your canines and smear your lips with pure elation and maybe satisfy that abyssal hunger in your psyche.

you have always been a stray, hungry for scraps.

and you have never seen more tantalizing a meal than a devil with a coffin and a woman who seeks to kill a god. she holds the tip of a ice-hewn blade beneath your chin the first time you meet, nicking the delicate skin of your neck, just above your pulse. you swallow. let out a laugh that sounds like a barking fox, and the woman’s sword falters. surprisingly, it doesn’t take much for you to convince her to let you tag along on her fool’s errand. it’s almost poetic. you learn of her name—jingliu. it’s pretty. rolls off your tongue. jingliu doesn’t bother to learn yours, but she calls you fox. you don’t mind the scrap of attention. after all, you’ve spent your whole life living off scraps.

travelling with jingliu (and by extension, luocha) does not lack for excitement. the road to deicide is paved with elation, even if your blue-haired companion refuses to see it. through battle and through the long travel between star systems in pursuit of the great fleet, you get somewhat closer to jingliu. it doesn’t take very long for you to slip into her bedroll (or cot, depending where you are). mara, you find, though cannot be cured can certainly be sated; much like the permanent hunger that curls in your belly. jingliu fucks you until neither of you are coherent enough to feel much of anything, madness or hunger. it’s an arrangement you find yourself enjoying. and as a by-product of such intimacy, you learn more about jingliu. her mannerisms, her illness—her past. she doesn’t tell you any of this, of course, but you can put two and two together from the things she lets slip deep in the throes of some nightmare after fucking you senseless. she gets many of those. the pattern is always the same. at first, she’ll sleep relatively soundly. but then, her brow creases, and her lip curls, and she angrily mutters a few names under her breath; a certain dan feng and yingxing. she curses them, then almost makes a noise like a sob, and something else leaves her lips— another name, but this time spoken with heartache and longing.

baiheng.

it doesn’t take much to infer that this baiheng was someone jingliu cared very much about. though when you ask luocha more about her, he reveals a little detail that makes her moderately more interesting—baiheng was a foxian. in some ways, that makes you similar to her, even though foxian you are not. the thought amused you once, as you looked back upon jingliu’s restless, sleeping form. perhaps jingliu saw her lost lover in you. how… quaint. the assumption never bother you, not really—until she starts to call for baiheng while she’s fucking you.

you’re no stranger to casual sex. even before jingliu, you never lacked for partners eager to share a bed with you. no, the fucking itself isn’t the problem—it’s how she’s fucking you. it isn’t with the detachment and pure lust like you’re used to. instead it’s almost like she cares, hands gentle on your hips as she drives her cock in and out of your greedy cunt. she fills you like she never wants for you to want for anything anymore, and even though you know it isn’t you this affection is for, that jingliu is barely even aware that you’re you and not baiheng, you can’t help but devour it feverishly every time.

you have always been a stray, hungry for scraps. and like this, with jingliu’s cock filling your pussy as she deliriously presses the shape of a dead woman’s name against your neck, you finally feel full.

and it makes you sick.

you crawl out of her embrace and spill your guts every time she falls asleep. your body utterly rejects the feeling—you’ve been so used to starving that the sensation of being full turns you ill. and yet, you can’t seem to push her away. you always come back, always relax under her touch, always pliant for her just to chase that brief, beautiful high you’ve never been able to find anywhere else only to bleed it once she’s done. your heart’s a pythagorean cup; a little too much and you’re spilling over. but you’re so greedy for it, still greedy for her. of all things it is affection that’s the most potent drug you’ve ever tasted, beyond the cheap thrill of oxytocin and adrenaline—even if none of it is meant for you, even if it’s just scraps. but that’s fine.

after all—you have always been a stray, hungry for scraps. and if that means wearing the face of a dead woman and letting the hunger finally devour you whole, then so be it.

[flying-cat]

somehow i feel vindicated like these dudes on twitter really are admitting that they would like bakudeku if it were a het ship LMAO

[mabaki]

MAH MAN Top solidarity LMAO Faehrnem belongs to @faehrnem!!

[sydneys-adamu]

puzzlepuppy fic masterlist :) 

organized by series! gif by @chefkids

stay with me wherever you go: carmen (emotionally balanced) and sydney (also emotionally balanced) are well equipped for long distance and handle it very very well and very very normally.

not.

travel lightly, but keep me in your back pocket, okay?: sydney gets an offer and carmy almost fumbles his chances. again.

write me like it’s your last time, I’ll read it like it’s my first: carmy and sydney are an ocean apart. naturally they start exchanging love letters.

heal me when I’m hurt, I don’t care how far you are: sydney’s injured while away, all the while wishing her damn boyfriend was still with her at the very least.

tell me my love is enough, yours is etched on my heart all the same: sydney finally comes back home, and carmen makes a choice (for him, a no brainer.)

in another world it’s still you: a montage of sydney and carmen choosing each other again, and again, and again. (AUs in no particular order!)

forever alive, forever forward: sydney needs someone, and carmy is the one who tries to save her. (sheridan road au)

the singing of a body (electric): carmy and sydney are linked, for better and for worse. (soulmate au)

burn down the disco: syd and carmy want each other, even when the world tells them they're not supposed to. (black mirror hang the dj au)

this heart, with all its changing hues: rewind in time, sydney and carmen meet at CIA. it's not an instant friendship.

wind and water; cloud and fire (meet me where the roads connect): sydney and carmy meet. sydney sees carmy. carmy sees sydney. not particularly in that order. (soulmate au)

the last five years: carmy, sydney, and a love story told in reverse. (divorce au)

the law of threefold return: bored and unassuming, sydney accidentally casts a love spell on her business partner. (love spell au)

a yellow blue countenance: in which carmy's desperate and sydney can't die with a perpetual witness by her side. right?

there we two, content: carmy and sydney get a cat. he’s the love of their life. send tweet.

maybe this is just the next step: carmy, sydney and the adventures of cat parenting.

time with you is time well spent: a holiday montage with sydney, carmy, and their cat by their side.

miscellaneous: canon compliant silliness

time nor place, distance avails not: it's not sydney's *first* choice to take her ex to get his wisdom teeth taken out, but so is the irony of life. at least carmy makes it easy (nope).

ceaseless musing (my soul is where you stand): sydney's dad makes an assumption, so she asks her very good friend carmen for a small favor.

a curious token (would the talkers be talking?): sydney and carmy's lover's quarrel through richie's eyes. maybe he helps, maybe he doesn't.

of cities fill’d with the foolish: mom and dad (sydney and carmy) aren't on the same page. at all. naturally this leads to an appointment with a couple's counselor.

an unknown want (the word of the sweetest song): the ever ambitious sydney asks carmy if he can teach her to draw.

as I ebb’d with the ocean of life: two airheads figure out what they are to each other. (post s3 tales to be told)

the long calm, the darkness, the swell: outside ever, carmy and sydney have the conversation they've both been avoiding. one conversation paves the path for more. and more. (post s3 fix it of sorts)

late in the autumn day: time passes. sydney and carmen have shit to figure out. and moves to make.

[sare11aa11eras]

and I hope that if I found the strength to walk out, you’d stay the hell out of my way—

Part 2 of 2 of my Velaryontines gift for Char @15step hope you like it!!!

Close-up on Mance and Qhorin below