#should I make a part 2

[chaoticamelay]

Good Omens characters as things my friends have said

Crowley: Gender is a joke and I'm the punch line.

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Aziraphale: I just want to eat spaghetti and read my book and experience no horrors, please.

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Maggie: I don't drink alcohol but I do self medicate my ADHD with three daily energy drinks, so who is the real winner here?

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Anathema: Physically I am a person but spiritually I'm a Ouija board screaming "AHHHHHHHH"

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Newt: Computers hate me, probably because i'm nonbinary and they're mad since that's the only language they speak.

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Madam Tracy: For personal reasons, I will be dropping out to become a stripper in a lesbian bar.

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Nina: When I was in high school our teacher had us read a book where the male villain was apparently attractive and I was the only girl in the class who didn't forgive him at least a little. And then the teacher wrote a comment on my essay that she was proud of me for sticking to my morals but actually I'm just a lesbian, and if it was a hot female character i would probably just try to fix her

(this one is a bit of a paraphrase bc it was while ago and a long quote)

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Shadwell: I have learned that there's only so long people can listen to me talk about my obsessions, and I have ignored that completely which is why I have no friends.

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Adam: I am too young and too sad for this.

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Muriel: Have you considered that the question is geese and the answer must always be no?

[onlyhoons]

so... bored | '02z ★

# : smut, threesome, perv!matthew and perv!taerae, kind of subby taerae ? hehe idk

warnings : none (?)

wc : 0.7k (WOAH)

💬 : this is my first time writing a threesome fic hehe. I was giggling and twirling while writing this. this was also based on an ask!!!

one day, matthew and taerae are just chilling in their dorms seconds away from dying; of boredom. matthew looks at taerae, whose been scrolling on his phone for hours, aswell as matthew.

an idea pops into his head. its not necessarily an idea since it happens so often, but he speaks up to tell his good friend nonetheless.

"taerae~" — "what now?" he sighs, hinting that he can already sense the mischief matthews up to. matthew chuckles "im.. super bored". taerae sets down his phone and sighs again as he slouches into their shared couch. "me too, do you wanna do something?" he asks the boy beside him, shifting his place to face matthews grinning face.

"lets call yn." matthew declares in a stern voice. "oh, youre that bored?" — "so.. bored, taerae". I think we can all tell what bored means by now.

"well, i guess we could..." taerae mumbles, faster than he thought he would. matthew grabs his phone and immediately dials your number.

you pause the show your watching to pick up another call from yet again, matthew.

"hello?" — "yn~.. me and taerae are so... bored. could you come over? lets hangout."

"matthew, i came over a few nights ago. and the night before, and the night before that! are you sure the others are okay with this? I cant keep going back and forth from my house everyday."

you exclaim, worried if your intruding the other boys space by coming over so much. you tried to lessen the habit but you just couldnt say no to matthews sweet whiny voice.

"they dont mind yn! besides, we can be as loud as we want. I mean, you can stay for as long as you want. hanbin took the rest to his moms place so its just me, taerae, and you. just the three of us." he reassured you. in a soft, persuading voice. hell, even taerae was getting hard because of matthews words.

"i.. okay.. I'll be there in 10." you hang up the phone quickly as you get ready to see your best friends for the fourth time this week.

matthew puts his phone away, noticing taeraes growing hard on in the corner of his eye. "holy shit, are you hard already?" he laughs in utter disbelief whilst taerae throws a cushion at the other boy, covering his face with his shirt. (Imagine his abs holy fuck).

"I cant hold it in anymore, i really need to fuck her." taerae admits shyly. a slight blush creeping onto his cheeks.

a few 20 or 30 minutes later matthew sprints from the living room, rushing to open the door. the door swings open to a very excited matthew. "what took you so long?" he asked, worried.

"there was a lot of traffic on the way, anyway, let me in please?" you tease. "oh, right." you step inside the apartment, hearing a slight ruffling noise coming from the next room.

"where's taerae?" — "huh, i dont know, he's been in our room ever since i left.." matthew replies innocently, knowing damn well what taerae is doing in their shared bedroom.

you and matthew walk over to the bedroom door and twist the knob open slowly. revealing taerae with his right hand sliding up and down his dick while the other is covering his mouth to supress the dirty words he want to say to you.

you gasp, covering your eyes with your hands subconsciously.

matthew puts his hands over yours and gently removes them from your face, then snaking his arms around your waist. "oh come on. dont you wanna watch, sweetheart?" he whispers softly into your ear. shivers were sent down your spine as his voice rung inside your ears.

taerae stops hesitantly, sitting up so you can see him better. precum dripping from his tip, twitching so shyly. he starts tearing up, needing your touch. "help him baby, help me. we need you so.. so badly." matthew whispers, just loud enough for you to hear. before you knew it he pushed you onto the bed beside taerae and started kissing you everywhere.

"matthew I- mmffph" you try protesting but its no use, youre already too far into their trap. lust takes over your soul as matthews tongue roams around your cute little mouth.

your hands run through his hair as taerae stares for a bit before slowly stroking himself once again. you could already feel your core aching for more.

this was gonna be a long night for the three of you.

part two ? [ written by ©onlyhoons ]

[jjkeremika]

You’re loud in my life and in my dreams

description: mikasa gets off to the thought of eren in the next room and he can hear everything

pairing: eren x mikasa, eremika (aot,snk)

universe: og/original

smut: ye

It was always late at night in bed when the the thoughts crept in. It had almost become a routine, imagining scenario after scenario in which their bodies tangled and their souls danced.

Originally, the thoughts were tamer. More about revisiting how he’d acted that day, how good he looked and if he looked better today than yesterday. Sometimes even now it still started that way.

Soon they became more intimate, remembering what his touch felt like during practice fights and imagining that feeling elsewhere. She liked the different sensation that warmed between her legs as she thought of him and his roaming hands.

Over time they became increasingly more sexual. Imagining his hands touching and squeezing her breasts and her butt and every sensitive spot on her body. Sometimes the feeling would burn inside her until the temptation to touch herself was too much to resist.

Wishing it was Eren’s hand creeping down her stomach or up her thighs was innate. Immediately her touch morphed into his and she freely allowed herself to picture himself all over her.

She’d rut against pillows while twirling her finger in the way she knew she liked, similar to the way Eren twirled the strand of hair in front of her face that one night he slept near her on the floor.

A slight high-pitched noise involuntarily released from her lips as she remembered his smile that night, how badly she’d wished one of them had the courage to close the gap between them.

Mikasa removed her hand and allowed herself to lay for a moment, feeling the fast pulse of blood to her pelvis, warming and dilating the muscles, making her more sensitive.

She had to stay quiet. They were staying in a barracks with awkwardly little room. She didn’t have to share a room like the others, (being one of the top-ranking soldiers had its perks), but the superiors were across the hall. Eren’s room was also only next door, separated by a thin wooden wall.

She took controlled deep breaths before thoughts of Eren cleaning the barracks crept in. He’d taken his shirt off to avoid it getting dirty. It’d been six months since she’d last seen him shirtless, and his muscles have developed a lot since then.

She remembered watching Eren train for hours a day with various Scouts and Garrison members. He’d always glance at her after, like he wanted her to know that he knew she was there. Observing him. She briefly wondered if he looked for her when she wasn’t there.

After a few moments of silence, Mikasa dipped her hand back inside the thin layer of protective lace. She released a shaky gasp as she pressed down—still sensitive.

The usual memories and illustrated thoughts flooded into her mind. The times Eren held or grazed her hand, the times he brushed her hair out of her face, the times he’d hugged her before her most dangerous missions, the mornings he’d greet her first with his husky, bed-heavy voice.

All thoughts stemmed from one memory. The moment when Mikasa had lost her balance and fallen on top of Eren during a practice fight. She’d scrambled onto her hands and knees, and just before she could stand up, he’d grabbed her wrists.

Eren had locked her in place with his look and grip. She remembered feeling frozen, like if she’d moved she’d break the moment, shattering what could’ve been into thousands of irreparable pieces.

They’d felt removed from the scene. They were alone, isolated in a realm suspended between space and time. A universe of just them, existing together in that moment, forever. Flash-freezing every detail of the memory into her brain. The coordinate memory, where it all started.

Where it all ended when people started calling their names, separating them.

The red blush across his cheeks screamed all the words he struggled to say to her. His tough exterior and aggressive attitude diminished, evaporating like a glass of water exposed to the sun.

He’d have the same blush on his cheeks while he kissed down her stomach towards the throbbing spot between her legs, the spot she so desperately wanted to introduce to him.

She squeezed her breast with one hand, imagining that it was Eren’s hand, imagining that more of her boob was covered than what she was capable of doing. She always imagined he’d have that same fiery and determined look in his eyes, intent on pleasing her to her fullest extent.

Pinching her nipple and rotating her hips against her finger bolstered the sensation to the point where she gasped out the first half of his name, like she were calling out for his ghost.

Mikasa didn’t realize how wet she was until she could hear the liquid squelching under her finger. She moved so that one foot was anchored onto the bed, knee in the air, and she slipped her finger lower and then inside her, swirling it in her own fluid before feeling her warm muscles enveloping the appendage.

She desperately ground onto her fingers, imagining Eren holding her down and stuffing himself inside of her. She chased the feeling of her fingers, knowing it would feel better rutting against Eren’s.

A myriad of “Oooh’s” and “Ahh’s” slipped out of her mouth and bounced off the walls. They were quiet, but the room was quieter, and the whispers echoed like screams.

Eren sat upright in his bed when he thought he heard his name. It was so soft and muffled that he couldn’t be sure if it was real or if he imagined it in some half-awake, half-dream-like state. It sounded so tense and needy that he couldn’t stop replaying it in his head, couldn’t help when he felt an aching sensation in his pants.

He recognized that voice. He grew up with that voice. He loved that voice.

His imagination grabbed the call with rabid claws and ran wild. Wolves of desire bit into the carcass of his innocent thoughts and scattered shreds of pure lust and affection. His brain sent signal after signal to pump more blood, to elicit more thoughts, to generate the irresistible urge to start holding himself at his base and syncing his movement to the natural beat of her voice.

He tried really hard to not touch himself to thoughts of her. He didn’t want to taint the purest form of her in his memory with his own white streaks of pure filthy desire. But he was only human and struggled to resist certain urges, and his heart beat a certain way and his brain stopped processing when he was around her, that sometimes he couldn’t help it. His hand would be wrapped around his cock before the thoughts of Mikasa stripping and holding and touching him abandoned him again. The emotions after were always mixed—excitement and relief; regret and shame.

Eren heard his name again and he pressed his ear to the wall. If it was Mikasa’s voice, it would be coming from her room, which is right next to his. He knew that much, and he also knew on the other side of this wall was her bed.

His cheeks reddened at the thought of Mikasa lying in her bed, sprawled out, calling—no, begging for him. He felt the blood pump to his pelvis and he instantly pressed his palm against his growing erection, willing for it to stop. He couldn’t keep thinking of her like that. He couldn’t keep using her like that.

He froze as he heard his name for the third time, this one more breathy, more needy than the others. She was asking for him. He pressed his other hand flat against the wall and started to instinctually palm himself through his pants.

As he listened carefully, he could hear her heavy breathing, some raspy moans. There was a pang in his heart at the thought of her with someone else, but then he was brought back to life when he heard her moan his name louder this time.

He thought of how pretty she must’ve looked; cheeks pink, lips parted. Asking for him. Wanting him.

He thought of how her short black hair was probably cast across the pillow, messy from running her hands through it and rolling around, static and sweat-ridden. He thought of how her hand was like his, between legs, making movements they both wished the other was doing. His dick twitched at the thought of her guiding his hand; his pace fastened as he thought of how she must’ve looked, pink and pale and sweaty and sexy.

Eren bit his lip and fought back a moan as the pleasure started building inside of him. He could practically picture Mikasa on her knees in front of him, hand wrapped around the base of his cock, a mischievously innocent look in her eyes as she stared into his soul, asking if what she wanted to do was okay. He could picture her mouth inching closer, could envision her wrapping her pretty pink lips around his pretty pink cock. Wanted to thrust into her mouth and watch her take it like the good soldier she always was.

Hearing her breathy moans was dangerous. Each noise went into his ear and straight to his dick, further solidifying his desire for her. Fueling just how badly he wanted her. Eren wanted to record the noises and play them back when he was alone and couldn’t escape the countless thoughts of her. His mind was a prison and she was the guards, the prisoners, the owner, the investors, and the creator.

He bit his lip as an involuntary noise escaped from his throat. He could practically hear her telling him where to touch, how to move. He wanted to feel her everywhere, create a textural map of her body where he could trace his favorite trails and revisit his favorite spots. He already knew where he’d start: hiking the two mountains on her chest.

He pressed his forehead against the wall, imagining the divet between wood planks as her cleavage. His nails dug into the wood as he thought of squeezing her boob, imagining the skin molding into his palm and pushing the excess soft flesh into his cheek. He loosened his grip on his cock and quickened the pace of his hand.

“Oh, fuck, Mikasa,” slipped out of his mouth before he could bite it back. Probably not as quietly as he would’ve liked. He was so desperate for her it was almost embarrassing. His body craved her; he wanted to reach out for her every time she walked by, wanted to bring her into his chest and hold her so tightly she would imprint on him. So he’d always be able to have her.

Mikasa moaned his name loudly this time, almost like it was in response to his call, and Eren could clearly hear each syllable and felt it vibrate through the wood.

This was the most breathless she’d been, the most desperate she’d sounded. She was still going. To the thought of him. He came right into his hand as soon as he’d processed it.

His heart was beating faster than his mind could keep up; he was reeling from the pleasure reverberating from his toes to his fingers to his head as his lungs struggled to breathe. He could hear Mikasa’s voice echoing so clearly in his mind, like she were right in front of him, right underneath him.

His cock twitched and he felt himself grow hard again as he drew Mikasa stuck to the bed, sprawled out for him, begging for him to touch her, to kiss her—to do anything to her, for her.

Without thinking, he rushed off of his bed and put the first pair of pants on he could find, wiping the viscous white fluid all over the sheets. He didn’t care—he didn’t have the privilege to. The most beautiful girl in the entire world was in the next room, touching herself to him, wishing it was him, saying his name like a summoning spell.

He quietly opened his door, and checked that the hallway was empty before dipping his toes out. He closed his door even more quietly than he’d opened it, now painfully aware of just how quiet it was.

He strained his ears as he walked to the door over. It wasn’t as obvious as when he was sat in his bed, but he could faintly hear something. Pressing his ear to her door confirmed that the noises he’d heard in his room were from inside.

His heart was beating faster than before, the pace rapidly quickening due to nerves. His hand hovered over the doorknob, contemplating his actions for the first time. Whatever happened after opening the door was irreversible. Their relationship would never been the same.

For the worst?

He inhaled deeply, caged it inside his lungs until it burned, closed his eyes, and rapidly opened the door.

Mikasa had instantly rocketed upright from her relaxed position, reluctantly removing her fingers from inside and grabbing the sheet to cover her naked body. She automatically assumed a superior had entered due to the noise.

For the best?

Eren opened his eyes and saw Mikasa’s wide dark eyes, bright and lively with surprise and fear. Her hair was sticking all over the place with her face-framing strands matted flat from sweat. Her face was flushed with bright red cheeks. Her fist was just in front of her chest, the sheet clutched so tightly barely covering her breasts, and her shoulders rounded in a way that only accentuated the size of her breasts and cleavage.

The door closed behind him as he started walking over, into the light of the window. She gasped out his name as soon as she saw him and a deep red blush encompassed her entire face. Eren’s dick twitched at the gasp, yet another pronunciation of his name from her lips that will return in the dark of the night, haunting him.

“What are you doing here?” she managed out while he silently continued to saunter over. He stopped in front of her bed, looking down at her.

She cowered slightly under his intense gaze. It’s not like she was insecure, it was the opposite really, but it was Eren, and something about the way he was observing her was so watchful, so detail-oriented. Like he was seeing a side to her that he’d never seen, for the first and last time, and he was dedicated to committing each detail to memory.

Eren sat down next to her on the bed. She didn’t move, she was still too shocked, but Eren didn’t want her to move anyway.

“I heard you.” Her heart dropped, and the fearful look in her eyes grew. Her worst fear, realized in the flesh, looking at her in her most intimate moment. She knew he was about to tell her off, that it was inappropriate.

“I…” He took the hand that was covering her chest with the blanket and lowered it to her lap. She released the blanket in favor of holding his hand, and her stomach jumped hurdles as he held hers.

A switch flipped once he lowered their hands to his lap. The anxious feeling of being told off was gone, and feverish joy immediately overwhelmed her body.

“I need you too.”

[fluffernuttermushroom]

I had really weird dreams as a kid

All these drawings are from when I was about 11~12 ish from memorys of all the dreams I can remember. I'm kinda glad that I remember some of them. But I'm starting to think what ever went through little me's mind back then was... interesting to say the least.

Time of dream: age 9

Dream description: some kind of stone creature? I don't know

Time of dream: age 11

Dream description: I was on a farm land and looking up at a gray sky. Among the clouds was this... creature that I cannot describe with words. It was quite big. If you look closely

The stick figure next to the barn was me.

I think the bubble next to the front was supposed to be a close up of its claws next to a human

Time of dream: age ?

Dream description: This was what I saw out my living room(the wall had vanished).

And I was also stuck to a white couch with a pole through my chest. Ants crawled out of the pole like water

Time of dream: age 7

This was quite long ago but I remember it vividly. I dreamed I was driven to an old fashioned cinema. The outside road was a dark night highway without any colour.

When I ended the red carpeted interior, instead of a movie theatre there was a set. A set entirely made of cardboard. A set that I was supposed to partake in.

One of the staff handed me a script. But as soon as I opened the script it was snatched away from me.

In front of me stood a person that I remember as the detector. He(I felt he was a he) had a maroon velvet tail coat with gold buttons and top hat. Along with a red shirt and yellow tie.

His face was an shade of sickly green. And he had no mouth and three eyes. The eye lids were coppery with eye themselves looking like they were made of glass. A strange mechanical whirring sound was constantly heard along with musical humming.

All of the blue eyes looked a bit odd

One had three pupils.

Another was looking in another direction.

And the middle had a sharp gear stuck in it.

But all at once the eyes looked at me and said

"Moment." And the dream ended.

Should I make a part 2?

This isn't all of the drawings that I have of my dreams

[geekycleary]

Yoshi’s been captured!

———

Is this a little dark for Yoshi? 😅 Maybe.

Did I obsess over animating Yoshi’s small movements? 😬 What defines an obsession though…

[hinamie]

bunch of portraits

[dcxdpdabbles]

Mr Flavor Soda Part 2

Mr. Flavor's Soda gains traction once the creator starts selling in a fixed place. Anthony's Pasta also grows in customers when word gets out that there is a surefire way of crossing paths with Mr. Flavor on Mondays and Fridays.

It's mainly because Mr. Flavor has gained a reputation for being hard to find. It was almost as if he vanished from one side of the city to the next without so much as a hint of how he got there.

However, that didn't mean he wasn't well known. He was a young teenager, likely fifteen or so, who always rushed about Gotham doing questionable parkour.

People had seen him climb up fire escapes only to do crazy leaps, looking to be aiming for his knees to break on each landing. He was spotted doing cartwheels across walking lanes, sometimes going over the hoods of cars that stopped on the lines instead of around.

He deliberately looked for the most haunted places in Gotham, walking with a traveling tea set because "the ghosts like to have tea parties." He had picnics in the middle of dark alleys, asking the air if it would like a second cup but pouring nothing from his teacup.

People were often confused by his responses when speaking to him. Nothing he said was particularly bad, but it showed his severe social awkwardness.

Customers walked away bemused but holding bottles of delicious beverages.

Another odd thing about the boy was his refusal to sell any of his creations for more than a single dollar. Nothing in Gotham was cheap. A regular Zesti was at least two dollars and nineteen cents, but Mr. Flavor looked appalled to charge so much.

A kid claiming to be among the original group that discovered Mr. Flavor, bestowing him the nickname, quoted the strange soda maker as saying, "If someone gives me a dollar, then I am one dollar richer. But if someone gives me two dollars, then they are two dollars poorer instead of only one."

It sounded humble on the surface, but it didn't really answer the questions the kid had originally asked him which were: "Why do you only charge a dollar? Why not more?"

Some people in Gotham were weary of Mr. Flavor. He didn't sound all quite there in the head. He wasn't near the level of insanity of the supervillains running around, but it wouldn't be a surprise if they all woke up one day to find out Mr. Flavor had snapped.

The remaining skeptics also regarded his drinks with cautious eyes. Despite his claims and the word of Red Hood, many wondered if Mr. Flavor was putting some kind of drug in his drink, hoping to spread it to the masses with his cheap prices.

If he was even selling soda at all.

Zesti is a familiar and beloved brand, but Mr. Flavor was once seen tasting the beverage and shouting, "Is this cream soda?!" He then bought one bottle or can of every soda option from the same gas station.

Each one was apparent "cream soda" according to Mr. Flavor. It was confirmed that the drinks the young boy made were far from the flavor of what they considered soda.

Now, Tim didn't see anything wrong with that. Jason had brought back samples of the other's work, and though the ingredients were interesting, they were ultimately confirmed to be soda. Or as close to soda as Mr. Flavor claimed it was.

He was just a bit eccentric while wandering Gotham. Nothing to worry about. Tim, knowing Jason, Bruce- and maybe even Dick with how determined his eldest brother was to try one of the sodas- had everything regarding Mr. Flavor under control; he chose to turn his attention to a series of missing people reports hitting Old Gotham.

There was no visible connection with the victims besides all having long chestnut hair. Age, gender, and social class didn't matter to whoever was taking these people- and Tim knew they were being taken. Tim found it strange that people who vanished were last seen near the same area, having built a map showcasing they were being targeted within a triangle that covered well-known shopping districts.

It was a bit of ground to cover, but Tim figured if he wandered around there long enough, he would attract the kidnapper's attention. He opened his closet, dusted off his old wig, and an hour later, Caroline Hill made her way over to Old Gotham.

Tim originally hated his Caroline Hill as he did not like disguising himself as a woman, but over time, he grew to adore how easily he could change her backstory and his mannerisms to fit with whoever Caroline was that day.

Sometimes, Caroline was a first-year medical student working through clinicals and rotations. She was overworked, under a lot of stress from her assignments, and didn't have time to be distracted by a social life, much less a man asking her out.

Sometimes Caroline was a highschool student who enjoyed community service. She was friendly, outgoing, and more then willing to take the lead in projects. She was naive and sheltered not losing faith in people quite yet.

Other times, Caroline was a high school dropout who didn't know what she wanted. She would apply to any job that would hire her, dreaming of leaving Gotham one day to find a dream to chase. To her, life was dull and meaningless.

Caroline was even a fashion model once. She was famous for her streetwear outfits and gorgeous selt-taken shots. Tim was proud to say her submission to LexCorp's phone promotion contest was still being broadcast, and she received checks for her work. She oozed confidence as a woman who knew what and when she wanted it.

It showed in her walk as she strutted down Old Gotham, stopping to enter any clothing Boutique she saw under the pretense of looking for an outfit for a big-shot party. She was dressed like the world was her runway, but not a red carpet.

If anything, she dressed like a woman who used to live in Old Gotham during its glory days, gracefully wearing the vintage outfit.

Her attire drew the eye of more than one person, especially when she ran her hand through her long, lush hair, making it fall smoothly against her lower back.

Tim figured model Caroline would be a much more tempting target, mainly because she carelessly browsed the various shops and little cafes. Anyone who watched her could tell she was unaware of her surroundings, and Tim had to carefully ensure they never doubted her blindness for even a second.

It was well; he was in an antique shop, glancing at lipstick holders, when something finally happened. The door swung open with a bang, and he allowed himself to jump as it would be something Caroline would do.

"Sorry! I gave the door a little too much razzle instead of dazzle!" a voice yells. Tim twists around to see a boy his age, with wild black hair—as if he did try to run a comb through it, but the strains refused to yield—and big, sparkling, far too aqua eyes.

Was he wearing cheap color contacts? Or was he a meta?

"No problem, Danny." Ms. Pinkney, the owner, a sweet woman who had refused to marry and was now approaching her sixties, smiled back. "Are you here again to play with Cyrus?"

"Yup, I'm going to beat him today." The boy chirps, walking over to a display that was roped off. He didn't seem to care for the sign on the red rope that read "WARNING: HAUNTED BY ANGRY SPIRIT" as he stepped over it.

It was the notoriously cursed chessboard and the two original armchairs from the eighteen hundreds.

Tim knew of the rumor that the man responsible for Gotham's architectural style- Cysrus Pinkney- had been in the middle of a chess game with his friend Solomon Wayne on the eve of his fortieth birthday when he had died.

He had been poisoned in the middle of a large party thrown by Henry Cobblepot, and no one to this day knew who his murder had been. Following Pinkney's death, terrible things happened to anyone who tried to sit or even move the chessboard. Sounds of chess pieces clicking on the board, low mutters in a man's voice, and even the chair moving back and forth began to appear.

Figthen that Cysrus still lingered; Henry had gifted Cysrus's wife the two chairs, the board, and the table it sat on. She took it home and learned that only she and her children were allowed near Cysrus.

He attacked all the others, including Solomon and his other best friend, Amadeus Arkham. The attacks were so bad that everyone eventually knew not to bother Cysrus.

He became an Urban Legend of Gotham, and many tourists would travel to Old Gotham just to gawk at the Pinkey's haunted family heirlooms.

Tim watched him confidently sit in an armchair before a chessboard. He gave the opposite chair across from him a wide smile. "Hiya Cyrus."

A lamp near Tim was flung at the boy, who took the hit with a laugh. "No need to be rude."

The lamp shattered against the ground, appearing to have been lifted again, only to fall as the boy reached out and moved a pawn. Tim's stomach dropped. His experience with Greta had taught him that ghosts were very real and, when their deaths were left unsolved, often very violent.

This guy had no idea what he was dealing with.

He opens his mouth when the teenager is suddenly flung from his seat, flying across the room and smashing against the wall. Ms. Pinkney laughs as if she just saw a toddler throw a fit.

"Honestly, grandfather, must you be so rude? Danny is just trying to play with you."

Tim watches her hair shift as if someone- or something- was ruffling her hair. Yikes, it was a poltergeist who unliked Greta was not visible but able to touch anything he pleased.

"Knight G1 to F3!" Danny yells, climbing to his feet. The scraping sounds of something being dragged across the floor as Danny twists around with his arms spread wide as a very large wardrobe rushes at him. He welcomed the attack like an old friend, nose cracking as it broke.

"Going Ghost!" Danny screams through his blood, landing on the ground as the wardrobe nearly crushes him.

Tim's mouth drops open. He's taunting Cyrus!? Not challenging his existence but straight up taunting the angered spirit?!

"Grandfather!" Ms. Pinkney scowls. "Stop this at once! You're usually more friendly than this. Danny is a guest!"

"It's okay, Ms. P! I think it's almost Cyrus' death day. All ghosts tend to get a little cranky around that time. Besides we're scaring the lady."

It takes an embarrassing amount of time for " lady" Danny to refer to him as he still wears Caroline. It's enough for the boy to leap to his feet, pat himself down—ignoring the broken nose—and strut to Tim.

Before the undercover man can say anything, Danny yanks out a bottle and hands it over. "Sorry about that, ma'am. Here, I have one on the house."

A Mr.Flavor bottle is thrust into his hands; the bubbling clear water with the leaping boy has green and yellow undertones. It's the only difference to the bottle Jason showed him not too long ago.

The teenager smiles, his teeth colored red. "You're quite pretty. Have a good day! Don't let your drink get warm!"

Then he skipped right out.

"Wha?" He blinks, and Ms. Pinkney slides right up to him with a ruthful smile.

"I know what you're thinking. I don't believe Danny is eccentric, but he has a good heart." She starts carefully, studying Tim's face with far too much intensity. It's not the kind of attention that one gives someone who they are just trying to convince to leave someone else alone. Her eyes linger on his wing for a few seconds too long.

Isn't her shop smack in the middle of the missing people's map? Interesting.

"Who was that?" He says instead, making sure Caroline's voice sounds breathy and sweet.

She smiles "Danny. But most know him as Mr.Flavor."

Tim looks at the bottle in his hands, feeling the ice-cold beverage- did he just pull it out of a freezer?- and unclips it to have a sip. It's nothing like soda, but it is at the same time.

It was far smoother than other sodas, with far more bubbles, and the flavor made his tastebuds sing.

"Oh, looks like you got Sprite. That's one of my favorites," Ms Pinkney comments. "Rare that one. Danny usually sells out by now."

"Does he come here often?"

The old woman laughs. "I'm afraid you're barking up the wrong tree, dearie."

Not what he meant, but if it kept his new number one suspect to chat more, he is fine with the assumption.

"Does he not like girls?" Tim asks, allowing his features to pull into a pout. He is very grateful that her made Caroline young enough to pass for his own real age.

"I don't believe he likes humans, I'm afraid. Male or female."

Huh?

But Ms. Pinkney's attention was distracted by the chess board, which shook slightly as the pieces previously moved by Mr. Flavor returned to their starting positions. She walked over to carefully lift up the thrown wardrobe.

Tim is quick to help her, slowly restoring the shop to its former glory. It's only after they finish that the old lady glances in the direction in which Mr. Flavor disappeared.

"Grandfather Cyrus is my great-great-great-great-grandfather. It's easier for me to call him grandfather since he's been around for generations, but his closeness has made the family tree a bit sensitive to the paranormal. I'm unsure what Danny is, but he doesn't feel human." She sighs. "I doubt he will find what he is looking for if he continues going about things like this."

"Like what?" Tim asks, stepping closer. "What's Danny looking for?"

The old woman's dark eyes chill down his spine as she gazes at him. "Death."

In the corner of Tim's eye, a man sitting at a chess set nods his head. He decides it's a good time to end his daily undercover work. Tim leaves, strutting with less grace as his mind recounts everything he knows about Mr. Flavor.

He is unaware of the person watching him from the alley, eyes tracing the lovely mane of chestnut hair. The grin that blooms over their face is nothing else but hungry.

[puhpandas]

post 3 star ending where Gregory makes a youtube channel and is 90% of the family’s income while Vanessa is jobless

(BONUS UNDER CUT)

[blueskittlesart]

Now that you're gone

[himexyandere]

I can't stop thinking about the typical hero vs villain trope, but this time, the villain gets infatuated with you, the heroine, and it starts to show.

You're informed of the villain's whereabouts as he wreaks havoc throughout the city you protect. You confront him as normal, only to find out that the reason he started blowing up empty buildings was to purposefully draw your attention.

"This was the only way I could get in contact with you, little hero. It's not as if I have your personal number... We could change that now, actually~. Will you give me your number?"

You're beyond confused, assuming at first that he was just messing around and trying to throw you off your game. You engage in battle and exchange blows before your sidekick shows up. The villain clicks his tongue and complains about how your "date has been ruined" before taking off, promising that you'll continue at a later date. Your sidekick is just as confused as you are once they spot the villain flying away, asking you what happened. You have no idea either.

He wastes no time getting back in contact with you, this time, through a private number. You thought it could've been a call from another hero, but no, it's that damned villain again... You, of course, question why in the world he would be calling you, to which he replies with a light chuckle and: "I just wanted to hear your voice. It's been a while since our last rendezvous, sweetheart."

You better believe he won't allow another villain to take up your attention either. He'll get rid of them and then leave a love note for you, bragging about how he's helping make your job a tad bit easier so that the both of you can finally go on a long overdue honeymoon, uninterrupted.

...This man is absolutely insane.

[ptr-sqloint]

you too

[star-shaped-froot-loops]

”AND WHY AM I IN BLACK AND WHITE”

I miss the Kris Where Are We memes I haven’t seen them in a while bring them back

(a Little Silly about my font mishaps under the cut)

I hate figuring out fonts bro why is text always so hard for me to navigate in art programs????

[reds-skull]

(continuation of this)

Okay maybe I lied Soap won't be fine by the time Ghost is done with him

[edit: text bubbles are bigger for better visibility]

[ozonegrrrl]

liar.

[starryluminary]

Ridonculous Race but Noah is friends with Owen part 9: Teamwork makes the dream work!

Don't you LOVE IT when Noah gets to play the stupid game? Don't you LOVE IT when Noah and Owen work together and Owen isn't left to do everything himself? Don't you LOVE IT when they mutually support each other and care enough about each other to give it their all??? Personally I love it when that happens

No transcript cause there's no dialogue. Instead have scrapped doodles for this part that I refuse to leave in the jail of the IbisPaint canvas

[starry-bi-sky]

tales of the passerine - danny fenton being bruce wayne's first kid

okay okay. so this is like a continuation/elaboration of my oneshot/prompt i wrote about the idea that Danny was the first batkid. We have a lot of aus where he joins the family after the rest of the bats do, right? So hey! Lets shake things up a bit. Danny is the first to be adopted by Bruce Wayne.

Danny's parents and unfortunately Jazz die shortly after the events of TUE -- how so? I was gonna say an ecto-filter explosion, that would call back to the TUE explosion and trauma behind that. But lets do something new! Carbon-monoxide poisoning.

It's not too unexpected for something to break in the Fenton house, especially with the Fenton parents' questionable understanding of proper weapon handling and lab safety. The water heater broke from a stray shot by one of the weapons, and was promptly MacGyver'd incorrectly. Danny went to stay with Tucker for a guys' night, and came back to a dead silent house.

(Danny's neighbors got a very unfortunate shock when he ran to the next house over in hysterics.)

There was a lot of shuffling around with CPS, the police. People had to be called in to handle the equipment in the lab, and the GIW was rumoring to show up in aid to clearing the scene. When Danny heard of that, he immediately went and dismantled the ghost portal to the best of his abilities. He burned the physical blueprints of all his parents' inventions, their blueprints on the ghost portal, and their most dangerous weapons were destroyed beyond recognition. Anything to prevent the GIW from getting their hands on his parents' tech.

It opened up another investigation, but he was not under the list of suspects. He was placed in the care of Vlad Masters, where they then went back to the rebuilt castle mansion in Wisconsin. Danny, terrified of the future that has once passed and may do so again, shuts down in his grief. Inadvertently, he ends up somewhat repressing his ghost half. Something Vlad, who is grieving Madeline but relishing in Jack's demise and his custody of Daniel, is not very happy with.

Vlad's... gone into a bit of a mental health spiral. He's becoming increasingly possessive over Daniel, the final remnants of his friends and a liminal being like him. He doesn't like that Danny's repressing his ghost half -- both out of genuine concern as a ghost, but also because of his desire to control Danny and groom him into the perfect son. If you ever had a phase where you read Dark SBI found family fics, first off; me too bro, and second off; those are the vibes I'm thinking of.

Danny's mentally shut down from grief! And fear. He's dropped into a bad depressive state -- paralyzed with grief and the terror of the inevitable. Clockwork saved his parents because he believes in second chances, but what's the point of that when his family ended up dead anyways? Danny doesn't wanna believe that he's destined to become evil, and he's holding out onto that hope, but it's a thin line, and he feels utterly hopeless and trapped. He hasn't used his powers or ghost form since he trashed the lab, and Vlad has alarms set up to prevent him from trying to escape.

He's also unintentionally cut off Sam and Tucker -- both of whom are so scared and concerned for Danny too, and are trying their damndest to reach out to him. He keeps ignoring their texts. Danny basically haunts Vlad's manor. He goes out to eat if he has to, attends parties Vlad drags him to, and stays in his room all day if he can.

At parties, Vlad doesn't allow Danny to leave his side, or really talk to anyone -- not that Danny wants to. A product of Vlad's increasing possessiveness. Well, he almost doesn't let Danny leave his side. Danny has a habit of slipping off to hide somewhere for the parties whenever he can, and Vlad reluctantly allows it so long as he stays alone.

This becomes an advantage when eventually, Bruce Wayne returns to Gotham after missing for years, and holds a bright charity ball to celebrate the return. Vlad has been chomping at the bits to get his hands on Wayne Industries, and with the return of its owner there is no better opportunity to wipe out his rival. He goes, and he as normal, brings Daniel with him.

Vlad thinks Wayne will bleed his little heart out for Daniel's poor orphan sob story -- he's a fellow orphan himself, after all. He's not wrong; Wayne's little heart will bleed, just not in the way that benefits him.

Bruce sees Vlad and Danny approaching before they're even close enough to introduce themselves - and like with many of the children he will soon come to care for, it's like someone set a mirror into the past right in front of him.

Danny Fenton's suit is tailor-made for him, and despite the fact that it's his perfect size, the sag in his shoulders, the ducked down head, and the way he hunches into himself all pictures the image of a child in shoes too big for him. There's a far away, glazed over look in his eyes and grief marble-cut into the lines of his face. There's not enough makeup in the world that will hide the dark circles under his eyes.

("My nephew, Daniel Fenton." Vlad's hands are possessive on Danny's shoulders. Bruce immediately notices the way the boy tenses under his touch. "His parents passed recently, and as his godfather I was designated his guardian.") ("I'm so sorry, the loss must've been terrible.") ("Yes, carbon-monoxide poisoning caused it. Daniel was out with friends, when he came home... they had already passed.") (Bruce immediately dislikes that Vlad shared the details of their death unprompted -- he likes it even less when Danny flinches at the reminder and hunches into himself.)

Danny runs off at some point earlier into the charity. At this point, parties are still being held at Wayne Manor (because iirc google search mentioned that was a thing at first before it was changed), so he disappears and hides in one of the empty rooms nearby. It just so happens to be the same room Bruce Wayne hides in when he needs a break from all of the socialization.

Thus begins a long, long process of trust. Bruce can't reveal his hand as being smarter than he looks, but he can be compassionate. Kindness needs no measure of intelligence. He keeps Danny company for as long as he can before he runs the risk of being found.

Rinse and repeat. Vlad insistently wants Wayne Industries, and he'll go to as many Wayne parties as he can to get his hooks into the man. The problem is that Bruce Wayne is never alone, and getting him alone is impossible. Finding him too. It's like the man never stops moving. Always talking to someone, always circling somewhere. He orbits around the room as if he isn't the sun of the Gotham Elite's solar system.

Danny's had such repetitive behavior that Vlad never thinks to believe that Bruce Wayne is disappearing to go talk to him. That "Vlad's" son is even interacting with him at all. Danny never gives him a reason to think so, and neither does Bruce.

Danny doesn't actually acknowledge Bruce until a handful of parties in, where he hands Bruce a small slip of paper he smuggled in that says; "don't trust Vlad". Danny's face stays carefully blank, but he's so tense that his hands are trembling, and he's purposely looking away from him. Bruce plasters a smile onto his face, slips the paper into his pocket, and tells him "okay".

(he's been busy with his own goals with the mafia, but he sets aside time to investigate Vlad Masters. He was holding off. Until now.)

Danny does eventually start speaking to Bruce, he's starting to really like the guy. He's starting to see a little hope, even as Vlad is starting to get more and more agitated with him the more he refuses to use his powers.

He reaches out to Sam and Tucker again, and starts trying to reconnect with them. Vlad has spyware on his phone, and he limits the amount of times he can talk to them. A weird parental control lock of some sort that leaves a time limit on how long he can talk to them for. 30 minutes. Danny doesn't tell them anything about Mr. Wayne.

Danny, slowly, wants out of here, and he's slowly gathering the motivation to do it. Vlad is genuinely scaring him -- and Danny wonders just how truthful the past-future Vlad was when he told him that Danny wanted his ghost half separate. He starts trying to come up with an escape plan.

Vlad has anti-ghost wards everywhere around the mansion, and while they're always on, they boost to full power at sunset. The doors and windows are always locked, all main exits have alarms set on them. The only reason it's not super extensive is because Danny hasn't tried leaving at all yet, so Vlad hasn't had to tighten anything.

At night, Vlad locks the door to his room and puts up an anti-ghost ward around the room. The mansion is on the outside westward side of Madison, more entrenched in rural Wisconsin. The closest town is a four-way stop sign with one house on three corners, and an open bar on the fourth. Not much to go.

He refuses to go to Sam and Tucker; Vlad would look there first. It's too dangerous. Vlad would sound alarm bells and have a manhunt looking for him, Danny can't risk going just anywhere. Too much risk of being found, sold out, or caught. There's really nowhere for him to hide.

Until there is. Bruce is telling Danny about the history of Wayne Manor, and says, as casually as saying the weather; "The manor has dozens of empty rooms, I'm sure Alfred wouldn't mind filling another one if he could." And quietly, hesitantly, Bruce places a careful hand on Danny's shoulder, unrestrictive and gentle; "He wouldn't mind getting one ready for you if you need one."

And there it is. There's his out.

Danny, just as quietly, replies; "I'll keep that in mind."

The ball starts rolling.

Now I've been trying to summarize this au as much as possible for length convenience, but Vlad has been steadily growing more and more controlling. More emotionally manipulative. More agitated at Danny for not using his powers.

He wants Wayne Industries under his thumb but he's been steadily growing more and more concerned with Danny. He's started grabbing him, yanking him around, shaking him; trying to goad him into using his powers. He gets angry when Danny doesn't react, or tells him he doesn't want to use his powers. He hasn't outright attacked him, but he's getting there. This has been happening over the time it takes for Bruce to indirectly offer Danny sanctuary at his home.

It all comes to a head when Vlad stops going to parties at all -- something Danny has to pretend he isn't upset about -- because Vlad doesn't want him around other people anymore. Vlad rarely goes now without him, and only leaves to go to a Wayne function or to handle something at VladCo.

Danny can't wait for Vlad to leave long enough to escape. So he leaves during the night of a big storm. Vlad's locked him in his room, but Danny doesn't bother trying to go for it; he goes to the alarmed window instead. Danny's been repressing his ghost half so long that he can't access his powers immediately anymore -- he can feel it, he knows its there, but he can't quite reach it.

He breaks the lock by hand.

Immediately the alarm goes off through the entire castle, filling the room with red, and he scrambles for the rope the Wisconsin Ghost left for him a few months back. Danny's already out and climbing down the side of the castle before Vlad even reaches his door -- the only good thing about the entire room being ghost-proof is that Vlad can't get in that way.

The rope ends before it reaches the bottom, and he's still twenty feet in the air. It won't kill him if he lands it right. Danny takes his chances, and drops. He breaks his ankle, but he survives.

And he fucking books it to the back garden. He hears Vlad shrieking over the thunder and rain.

I'll save the full experience for a future oneshot, but Danny makes it out into the nearby woods and forcibly experiences what it's like to be in a horror game, trying to hide from the thing that's hunting you. There's only one thing going through his mind; "i'm going to die"

I have this mental image for this scene. Very stereotypical horror imo. Where Danny is hiding behind a tree, with a hand over his mouth, and Vlad is a few feet away from him, glowing ominously red through the trees, trying to search for him.

Danny doesn't get away from this unscathed, but he does get away alive. That's all he could ask for. He gets away by getting his ghost half awakened long enough to transform into Phantom and fly to Gotham.

But he gets to Wayne Manor, he gets to Bruce. Or, at least, Alfred answers the door from his insistent pounding. Danny's just in tears and Alfred gets him in the living room, wrapped in a towel, with ice on his swollen leg before he has to step out and alert Bruce.

Bruce already breaks multiple traffic laws on a nightly basis. And that's just with the sheer existence of the batmobile itself, not including the speeding and military artillery attached. He breaks double the amount trying to speed back to the cave and get out of the suit.

Right off the bat: Bruce will know, at least before Dick enters the picture, about danny's powers. He'll figure out something considering the fact that Danny traveled from Wisconsin to New York in a single night. That'll be a bit of complicated affair, but I've already got something in mind.

Actually it'll probably be very soon after Danny joins the family, because Bruce tries to offer to fight for custody for Danny - the state Danny was in at arrival is clear enough evidence for a trial. But Danny immediately shuts it down, says it's not going to work and then Vlad will know Danny's with him and he won't be safe. He tells him that Vlad cannot know Danny was with Bruce.

Danny's biggest regret was not telling his parents he was a halfa, and while he doesn't want to tell mister wayne (yet), he does tell him about Vlad being one. He needs to know why Danny can't be seen with Bruce. So he tells him, and Danny's current plan is to just hide out from Vlad until he turns 18. That way, he has no more legal jurisdiction over him. After that? He's not sure.

And to wrap this up, since this has already gotten very long and I can make more posts about this au later; I've thought about it, and I'm going to say that Danny does become a vigilante before Dick enters the scene. He goes by, as you probably guessed; Nightingale. "Gale" for short.