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profounddestinyrebel · 10 months

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Pretty much my ideal dcxdp coexisting world

Danny had all his canon happen before Bruce and the JL started their vigilante careers

Before Bruce was born or Martha and Thomas even got married

Phantom Planet never happened and the world never realized that they were almost dead in the first place (I apologize for mentioning it)

Danny retires after blowing up the portal and designing a new system of gov for the Infinite Realms (why the hell is that a monarchy anyway? Fighting being a way of communicating AND the way of determining a ruler does not make sense so I'll choose the better one)

Danny still visits the Infinite Realms but mostly lives his life

He still has interesting things happen to him but more because he apparently has a curse placed on him than anything else 'may you live in interesting times'

Danny manipulates the curse by getting into situations on purpose and then resolving them without getting attention drawn to his civilian id and normal life

He keeps track of immortals and big names that deal with death magic so as to lower the chances of being summoned

The more powerful the Realm Being the more powerful the summoner has to be to summon them and with how powerful Danny is there aren't many he has to keep an eye on

Ra's has been losing Lazarus water at a steady rate for over a decade but only now has it become a noticeable loss. The day the that he notices is a Very Bad Day for the League of Assassins (the day Danny lets himself get caught satisfies his curse for 2 whole months)

Danny hasn't aged much at all since he left Amity at 17. He's still short but mimics the effects of age with stage makeup and other tools used by actors to look older they actually are. This is how he meets a certain Alfred P. who remains a good friend even though they never really meet in person.

His parents blow themselves up and wipe their house off the map when tinkering with a device designed to lure realm beings to them. Danny isn't really sorry they're gone. He finds out after leaving Amity that he wasn't really their kid and he wasn't even adopted. They made him in their lab while distracted from their obsession with ghosts then completely forgot they had done so when they refocused on ghosts. His growth chamber (terrible name) was coated in ecto which allowed the device to reactivate and allow Danny to finish incubating into a toddler then (suspicious) it mysteriously popped him out before his the fentons noticed the growth chambers success.

His parents never took any notes on the clone experiment out of the house due to it being a (perceived) failure. After going back to their ghost obsession they completely forgot about it so no one knows. Jazz only found after Danny told her and he only found out after growing older and continuing to look less and less like either of his parents.

Danny finds the notes and that's what inspires him to leave Amity, to start looking for his bio parent. The Fenton's had no clue that the clone they grew was Danny. They dismantled the growth chamber when Danny was four (actually two) and never realized that the toddler they adopted was the clone of wonder woman they made. They never said anything to anyone about Danny being adopted so Vlad has no idea that Danny isn't Maddie's child.

Vlad starts to age drastically after the portals are destroyed and Danny figures out that Vlad isn't a halfa after all. He's just a normal ghost who can prey on people like spectra but with an obsession directed at Maddie originally and then Danny. Afterwards Vlad gets shunted off into Walker's prison because of all the toxic and human crimes he's committed among them brainwashing, mind control and mind wiping various wealthy and not so wealthy individuals into giving Vlad their money and companies.

Ellie has to explore the Infinite Realms (literally Infinite though so she's not confined) only because she can't really produce her own ecto. She has to absorb it from her surroundings so she can wander safely all over the Infinite Realms (so long as she calls for help when she gets in over her head) but not the human realms unless she takes a buddy who can produce a steady stream of ecto for her.

Vlad makes Danny his heir so now he's rich enough to travel even after giving all the people Vlad stole from their money back. It turns out that Vlad was good with making more money once he had it.

just Danny being a crptoid for the entire magical community and them being unable to talk about it if they even know of him

while danny runs a NASA and space account where he talks about NASA's recent achievements, newly discovered stars, planets and new alien races that Earth has been in contact with

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keii · 2 years

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“you’re a long way from home, huh?”

#POV: You thought you could capture Ace but instead got bested by him #and now you’re tied up aboard his ship not knowing what your fate will be.#He pushes your shoulder up with his boot dirt sticking onto the fabric of your shirt.#His eyes narrows to take a good look at you and comments that what you did was one of the “dumbest fucking things he’s seen someone do”#BUT is flattered that you left your piddly ass town just for him~#LMFAOOOO I WANTED TO PUT A SCENARIO FOR THIS SKETCH #tbh this wasn't supposed to be ace-- i was trying to draw mm fanart but... the body was too muscular #and like... i love ace... he's joined the realm of 'love of my life'#did i say that i got into one piece like... back when quarantine started?#just getting through it slowly... i'm like only in the 600's where sabo got reintroduced and AHHHH i'm so happy TT v TT #but also sad bc... ace.... ace is gone and i remember crying sm... even just recalling it..#i get teary eyed... i'm a pansy LSAKDFJKSLADF #i haven't actually read any ace fanfics... so i'm just self projecting scenarios LMFAOO #art #fanart #digital art #killamonart #sketches #one piece #op #portgas d. ace #ace #artists on tumblr

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pac1fythehunger · 1 year

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risk of shitpost

#i hate htis im so sorry #risk of rain #risk of rain 2 #paci art #i have some actual doodles but i wanted to quarantine this thing to its own realm #ror #ror2

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thistransient · 2 years

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I finally enrolled and paid for another semester of class so I can get started on the path to ARC possession, but the sheer amount of documents and copies thereof required has been setting off the ol’ executive dysfunction and I’m currently stuck at “getting another set of passport-size photos taken at an actual establishment because the automatic photo booth did me dirty and I refuse to consider the possibility that I do in fact just look that tired”. (Also afraid my lack of “original bank statement” from my American online account will cause problems given that Taiwanese bureaucracy recoils in horror at any piece of paper that hasn’t been thoroughly stamped with official seals, but if worse comes to worst I’ll simply withdraw cash, put it in my Taiwanese bank account, and let those bank employees go to town with their ink pads.)

Then again, the more I look at those photos and consider my current levels of exhaustion, the more I think they’re just going to have to do. I fell asleep for half an hour in a chair at school today (not during class thankfully, but still), there’s probably only so much tactful lighting can achieve at this point.

#it's within the realm of possibility #that i just keep studying because i'm afraid of what working again will do to my mental health #and yet i can't pretend this isn't burning through the spoons too #i think i survived last semester cause i had a quarantine break halfway through

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stealingyourbones · 2 months

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Ever heard the theory that time travel into the past could cause the next big plague because of the diseases you carry? Or if you go into the future the evolved diseases of that time would effect YOU?

Well, Danny doesn’t have to worry about that cause he’s dead. As we all know, ghosts really don’t get sick. This fact is really useful when Clockwork sends him on missions all across the Realms. To different times, universes, even dimensions! Being Clockwork’s apprentice was a never ending mission, but he had fun.

He thought this time would be no different.

Clockwork asks him to go to the past of a certain dimension to save the life of a child or something. He’s not really sure. He does know that the mission is hard and complicated, and by the end of it, he’s so exhausted he can barely open a portal to the present of the current dimension. No WAY can he make it home in this state.

So he wanders around, looking for a place to curl up and rest, unknowingly spreading his little ghost germs and causing a new, and very strange, epidemic.

The residents of the DC universe are afflicted with Ecto-Acne.

oh what a fascinating premise! i'm pretty sure DC has dealt with extra dimensional illnesses before so they have plans in place but the absolute chaos scrambling to quarantine everyone with Ecto-Acne would be an absolute shitshow.

#bones replies #dpxdc

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infinitystoner · 1 year

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Always Forever

Masterlist

Pairing: Loki x GN!Reader Summary: When a mission goes wrong, there’s only one person whose comfort you crave. Word count: 830 Author’s note: Just a fluffy little Loki drabble for @sarahscribbles!

I am resilient. I am safe.

You slowly exhaled, repeating the mantra over and over again in your head. Bruce had assured you that the exposure to the HYDRA-developed chemical was likely nothing. However, out of an abundance of caution, you, Natasha, and a few other agents were now in quarantine until he could determine exactly what had happened during your botched mission.

You paced back and forth as you waited for an update. It had been hours now, and the monotony of the bio-containment facility was beginning to take its toll on you. The endless beeping of machines and whirring of fans filled the small room, and you found yourself longing for fresh air. And sunlight. And Loki.

He hadn’t tagged along on your most recent misadventure since the assignment had been a seemingly simple one: hack into the outlying HYDRA lab’s mainframe, extract the data files, and be on your merry way. But maybe if he had been there, things would have gone differently…

Turning on your heel, you frowned as the lab curtain concealing the hermetically-sealed door faintly rippled, the all-too-familiar scent of ancient leather and sandalwood infiltrating your senses.

“I know you’re here,” you murmured cautiously before Loki peeked out from behind the curtain, flashing his signature grin.

“Darling, I– ”

“You shouldn’t be in here, Loki,” you interrupted, but your words lacked conviction. Despite your frustration, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief at the presence of the tenacious god before you.

He huffed, but his expression softened as he moved closer. “Your concern is admirable, dove, but I assure you, there is nothing in this realm that could keep me apart from you. Especially right now.”

You bristled at the thought of him putting himself at risk by sneaking into the isolation ward, but a small smile tugged at the corners of your lips as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. His warmth was a stark contrast to the sterile environment, and you leaned into him, soaking up his comforting embrace.

Loki brushed a strand of hair away from your face, his brows slanting upward as he peered into your eyes. “Certainly, you realize I couldn’t just stay away,” he said, voice laced with concern as he moved his hand to gently cup your cheek. “I needed to see you, to make sure you were okay.”

“I’m fine,” you replied stubbornly. But of course Loki knew you were lying.

His thumb traced along your cheekbone, his touch feather-light. “You don’t have to be brave around me,” he said tenderly. “And you don’t have to face this alone. I am here for you, my love. Always.”

“Forever.” His words set your heart ablaze, unlocking something deep within you – a sense of devotion you hadn’t ever believed possible. Loki had always been there for you, and his unwavering adoration was something you had come to rely on. But hearing him say it out loud, in this moment of vulnerability, was like a spark igniting a flame that had been smoldering for years. It was a feeling that transcended words and logic, something that pulsed through your veins and set every nerve ending alight.

Forever. The word echoed in your mind, reverberating like the peal of a bell. It was a promise, a vow, an unbreakable bond that would endure through the ages. As you looked up into his eyes, he gazed back at you with such reverence and tenderness that your heart skipped a beat.

You had been so focused on trying to be strong, trying to handle everything on your own, that you had almost forgotten what it felt like to have someone there for you. Not just someone – Loki.

His fingers traced along your jaw, and you felt a sense of calm wash over you. His touch was a balm for your soul, easing the pain and worry that had been gnawing at you since your exposure.

“I know,” you whispered, feeling tears prick at the corners of your eyes.

Loki shifted, bowing forward until his forehead was touching yours. “And no matter what happens, no matter where this life takes us, I will never leave your side,” he continued, his voice low and steady.

In that moment, a warmth washed over you, like he was pouring all his love for you into your very soul, filling you with a sense of solace that you had never experienced before.

“I love you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible as you ran your hand up his leather-clad chest.

Loki tilted your chin upward with one elegant finger, leaning in close so his nose gently nuzzled against yours. “And I love you,” he murmured before wrapping his arms around you in a tight embrace. “Never doubt that.”

You clung to him, the world around you fading away. It was just the two of you now, and you knew you would handle whatever came your way. Together. ***

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#loki drabble #loki fluff #loki imagine #loki x reader

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katsukikitten · 1 year

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A zombie apocalypse au for @medusashima collab! Find the collab master list HERE! Be sure to give the others a read too!

Warning: graphic, violent, and sexual content intended for adults 18 or older.

Synopsis: Shelter isn't hard to come by in the End but good, untouched, shelter is. When you find paradise in the middle of a dead field in the shape of a 900 square foot home you start to break a few of your important rules. Always keep moving and don't help anyone. Especially if that anyone is a hot headed blonde bounty hunter sent to settle score you'd rather forget.

Peachy Keen Master List

Chapter One - Never overstay your welcome, keep moving

Winter

It scares you at first, the mummified body facing the door in the cramped living room of the home you found tucked away in a field of corn long past it's harvest.

Petrified you, like the farmers that sat facing one another. In wooden rocking chairs, gnarled fingers slack around the handles. Coming closer to inspect and seeing no signs of teeth marks or infection. Letting loose the held breath you kept as deft eyes looked over every liver spot and wrinkle in the leathery skin. No fluid on the hardwood floors beneath their rocking chair or in the blankets around their shoulders.

And by some miracle, the cold, the house didn't smell like rot.

You figure they must have died earlier this winter, it lasted damn near since October as the Earth naturally cooled in the fall of the human race.

With critical climate change hitting irreversible levels and long lasting damaging effects in just a few short decades, Mother Nature took matters into her own hands. Doing what she does best.

She evolves, she changes and grows, makes a deadly cocktail of pathogens and fungi that rids her realm of blight.

Humans.

You were just surprised a nuclear war didn't wipe humanity off the map first.

You hadn't meant to live this long, six whole years in the apocalypse, honestly you were one of the many who'd rather take their own lives. Least then you had a say in how and when you went.

But the body has a funny way of forcing you to survive. To dissociate in some feeble attempt to keep the body going for an organ that tortured itself daily with endless, grueling tasks and for what?

So you could experience your first kill? Watch your friends and family die when the Feds bombed cities instead of trying to quarantine sections? Of you walking until your feet bled, fleeing the city just to live in the outskirts to hear the screaming and wails as the undead met the living? Tied to a tree limb with your worn belt to sleep or maybe it was so you could loot the dead man for his tent but not without putting a bullet between his eyes as a parting gift first.

No longer does Grim accept the coins laid upon the eyes of the dead. Now payment for a safe travel down the river Styx is paid with the bullet lodged into the third eye of the deceased.

A tradition sure to be passed down to the generations to come.

Despite the rage you've aimed at yourself for still living, the home was a welcoming sight. The old farm house made of gray cinder block, stout in the field of the tall stalks that you yearned to see each sweltering summer when you were stuck in the city before the world went to shit.

Now the sight of the dried crop makes the nostalgia coat your tongue thickly, like the bitterant of a large pill.

You think you choke when you swallow.

Still even with the two harmless corpses it was an amazing find. The shingles of the roof are all in tack and the old wood stove holds the reminiscence of a charred log and ashes.

Logs lining either side that would last through the winter and then more still kept under an open awning out back. Plenty of birch wood to burn white smoke making you sigh in relief.

First things first and with the few hours of sun you had left you needed to get to work burying the couple. Half debating over taking their rings that were about to fall off before thinking better of it.

Grabbing the shovel from the makeshift shed and going to the edge of the corn field out back. Only you were stubborn, stupid enough to fight the frozen ground as you shoved the sharp spade into the Earth. Moving it to your will as sweat collects on the inside of your thermal undershirt making it stick to your back and the nape of your neck uncomfortably.

Your calloused hands protect you from the biting wood as you spend the better part of your day light going six feet down. Using the height of the shovel as a measuring stick.

I wonder if their kids and grandkids will visit. I'll have to make a good marker so they won't miss it.

And then it hits you. The realization of what you're thinking. Fat droplets blurring your vision as you chide yourself over wasting quickly dwindling time.

You hadn't even cried when you watched your friends being torn apart from the force of the bomb but here you were crying over two strangers and their imaginary family.

Except they weren't imaginary were they? They were hung neatly throughout the home.

Ya know the multi generational home that you planned to squat in. The one with the warped photos in warm senpia of when the family first arrived and built the modest country home to the vibrant color photo of the grandparents smiling ear to ear as their kids and their kids' kids stood on the still sturdy porch with corn cobs in their small hands.

Another sob racks through your body forcing you to take a break from carving out your last foot hold so you could climb out of the grave you'd just dug.

Should you start digging your own now too?

Since no one else was going to be around to do it.

Once you're back in the house you try to think of the logistics of bringing the pair out. You start with the wife, taking her delicately preserved body with the blanket around her shoulders.

"’Xcuse me." You murmur to her as you lift her up, surprisingly light compared to the other corpses you've carried or moved. Careful to avoid banging her up against the door jamb accidentally before you make it out the few yards to the edge of their little property.

Easing her down into the hole using the long and strong quilt that she must have made until you could slip it from beneath her to bring the fabric back up.

"Sorry." Another involuntary pleasantry as you scoop the husband and his quilt up. Repeating the same action until he rested beside her as much as he could be. Dropping the first and second quilt over them as if tucking them in. You just hoped they wanted their holy matrimony to be reflected in the after life as well.

Rooting around in your pocket for the few spare ammo you've got left.

"For the toll." You murmur dropping a bullet each before tackling the grueling task of shoveling dirt back into the hole you half killed yourself to dig. Returning to the house only to place their wooden rocking chairs at the foot of their grave before heading inside for the night.

Telling yourself not to look for their names, refusing to and that the wooden rocking chairs would have been enough.

But it gnaws at you as you move around their furniture to better suit you, as the old wood stove fills the home with a warmth, with a luxury, you've long since forgotten.

Knowing full well she would have been the type of woman to have a farmer's log.

A handwritten one or a more accurate family log written in the old bible that sat on her night stand.

You left it alone, thankful they hadn't died in their queen sized bed as you moved it into the living room frame and all.

The moon shining bright over head, peering in through the kitchen window over the sink as if to check on you. To see if you were still awake.

And of course you were, when was the last time you've ever had a restful sleep?

Your mind back to the "holy book" specifically the one with the worn leather and cracked spine. Even to the end the wife was a woman of faith, a bible open on the coffee table that you quickly used for kindling.

Because what has God ever done for you?

He sure as fuck wasn't as merciless as he claimed to be.

Although he'd given her and her husband an easy enough death hadn't he?

You were sure the rest of her family didn't meet the same gentle fate.

In the end there was only one true God and that was Death.

Ever waiting and watching, coming to steal you away before you could even blink with nothing to show you ever existed at all save for your own headstone, least til that crumbled away.

You jolt out of bed, rushing towards the book as if it whispered your name all this time and now it was shouting.

Screaming, demanding your undivided attention until you flip open the front cover. Old cursive greets you as the pages sigh, rolling over birth and death dates until you're forced to flip to the back, finding the first two names without death dates but plausible birth dates that would line up to their age and the End. Slamming the generations old book as you rise.

Finding yourself outside, bare foot. Knife in your hand and your breaths coming out in ragged puffs.

Scrapping along the tops of the wooden rocking chairs like a woman possessed, carefully carving the letters into the headrest of the rocking chairs.

Stepping back in a fever to admire your work, feet numb from the biting cold ground before you turn on your heel.

They echo back to you as if you'd carved each curving letter into your psyche instead of the smooth stained grain. Unsure if the haunting was that of thanks or scorn and you were sure a poltergeist was the least of your concern.

Even as you drift the names burn your retinas as if to remind you whose home you spent the night in.

ASTRID EMROY

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The next morning you find yourself trapped in the house by deep snow so you poke around the home. Rearranging some things here and there but not to disturb the personal belongings just yet.

Even though you know you won't stay long, never breaking one of your many rules that lead you to survive this long. But why not disturbing their belongs matters to you, you aren't sure.

Maybe it's the way that this home is untouched. Truly loved and lived in, while the other houses you've squatted in were long since looted. Ransacked and trashed, taken back by the unforgiving weather and those desperate enough to defile what was once someone's home.

For others, their Hell within four walls and maybe the big End meant nothing to them anyway. Besides, it wasn't like you weren't one of the many who rooted through homes and hissed when you found nothing of use, just fading photographs and old DVDs and CDs. Shit that didn't matter now.

Right now you were mostly looking for a good pen with a plan to roughly guess the year so you could add the rough date beside their names and put their bible up somewhere. As if compelled to end their chapter properly so that they may live on despite, their bloodline most likely having died long before them.

The couple really didn't have much and you were sure if you tried you could dedicate one small wall and bookshelf to their personal belongings to honor them. The thought makes you suck your teeth, so easily you cling to sentimental bullshit, out of spite now their things would be lucky to be stored away in a box.

On the dusty coffee table are two sets of coasters, tops well worn from sweating drinks, a black leather book and a copy of The Great Gatsby with a broken spine.

The book peaks your interest, hadn't read it since highschool and even then that felt like a foreign memory. Of harsh fluorescent lights that buzzed loud enough you were sure you'd go deaf to them after having lived in silence for so long. Tossing the tattered paperback onto the old wood top before your fingers grab for the worn leather spine, flipping the pages to see dozens and dozens of entries.

You settle into the old couch, the fire in the wood stove keeping the place warm as the sun lazily bleeds in through the windows to provide you with just enough light to read as you flip it open you're met with a threat.

If ya settle here ya better watch over our goddamn farm.

The cover page makes you snort, flipping the thick page to consume what you could, hoping there would be some hints on where they stashed their canned goods and supplies. Even if it didn't provide you with anything, at least it helped past the time.

Jan 31 20XX Six years after the "Rapture"

It's ain't all fucking peachy keen as I'm sure ya can see and I'm comin to realize that I ain't built to live forever.

And if I was, I couldn't imagine a worse hell than this.

If ya settled here in our little house I've got some rules.

No drinks on my damn coffee table without a coaster. I got plenty of 'em. The ones from my birthday (they got cats on em but the paint'll be rubbed off by now I'm sure) or the ones Emroy made outta small trees. Hell use a book if ya gotta.

Two, you best sweep this home. I don't care where ya came from or who ya came from, what god you do or don't worship but there is one thing for certain, house as old as this has a spirit and ya best keep it happy. Open the front and back door (good cross breeze in the sweltering summer) and you sweep my damn house.

Or I just might be the spirit that haunts ya.

Reckon that's it. So I'll quit my belly achin and step down from my soapbox to learn ya a thing or two.

Now if you're a country folk and from 'round these parts y'all'll know two things. When snows a coming, or rain, y'all can smell it real easy in the air. Can't tell ya the smell but if you know ya know. And the second being it always snows heavier in the next coming weeks before spring than it will in the dead of winter.

Now if you're from the city or just can't smell like ya used to, Bets the cow will be able to tell ya. She won't come out, simple as that and by the next day snow'll be up to your knees and Bets will look at you like she told you so.

Hopefully she'll live that long, seems this disease ain't affecting the animals like it is us folks. Reckon we didn't pray hard enough or some preachy shit Gran would've said. Now if the cow ain't there to tell ya, the farm log will. Use yer head, you'll see the pattern even with the blasted greed fueled heat spikes. It's best to prepare for the worst. We've enough canned rations to last us a lifetime in the cellar but Emory and I are old as dirt, it won't last forever but as long as these hands can can, they'll can what he grows.

Emory, my husband, says hello. Wants me to tell the "stranger" that's you I reckon, that the Great Gatsby is worth the read and that if ya find yourself with nothing to do, which ya will eventually, you should read it.

Go on now, get back to surviving and be sure to dust my damn picture frames too.

Yours truly,

Astrid & Emory.

Pushy. You think to yourself but relish in the fact that old folks like to ramble, even in written form. Quick to explore the home to find the cellar doors in the fading short lived light of winter before realizing the age of the home.

Shit, it's probably buried under a whole foot and a half of snow, you could exhume it now but you and twilight always seemed to have bad luck.

It's when you've been raided most and almost bitten more times than you can count and after finding this place you don't wish to push your luck. Even if the undead were few and far between in bumfuck nowhere.

Flipping open the cabinets in the kitchen you find a few manufactured canned meats. Fingers smoothing out the old label for any sign of denting or damage that could lead to botulism. Finding none makes you pop open the can to sit atop the old black wood stove, glass casting the room in a soft orange that rivals the sunset. It makes you pull the blinds closed in caution, not wanting any light to attract unwanted guests and when the wind howls you wrap tighter in one of the many blankets lying around.

Three days pass and there is only so many times you can study the farm logs and widdle wood into pitiful shapes with your dull knife before you drive yourself mad. Still avoiding the books for now in some sort of spite or rebellion to God knows who before you're outside and bundled up. Shovel in hand as you scrape the metal spade all along the foundation of the house until you hear a satisfying tink.

Your luck would be to start in the wrong direction and have to walk all the way back around the house just for the damn thing to be on the left side of the back porch instead of the right. Shoveling away the icy snow before coming across the wooden cellar doors. You wonder if you'll have to replace them soon but your curiosity of the future dies when you spy a combination padlock. Sucking your teeth pull a bobby pin from your hair, straightening it out and wiggling it between the rusting dials, scraping it around before feeling the soft give of the locking mechanism. You jab roughly and the lock pops open making you smile as if you hadn't picked anything ten times as hard.

Taking the steps into the deep cellar where the air was cool yes but warmer than outside. As if it were deep enough in the Earth to stay a balmy fifty degrees even in summer heat. Flash light paints the darkness in harsh white when you spy a candle and a box of matches into an enclave built right into the old cobblestone.

Once the fire flickers to life you switch your flashlight off, pocketing it as the candle washes the old glass jars and few metal cans aglow.

Jarred jerky catches your eye first as you snatch for that, then a small jar of syrupy looking strawberries, as bright red as when they were first picked, making your mouth salivate. The place neatly organized and labeled, the metal cans of all of those beef stews that were upstairs despite there only being enough of those left to last through this winter. Even if you stretched them out with water. Finger following the shelf lining to try to find more sweet fruit coming across the word peaches under a layer of dust.

Delight you look up, just to find the shelf empty and the sight of it makes you snarl.

But at least you had your strawberries.

They taste like late spring, like your childhood when you'd pick the berries at the local farm. How the sun beating down on your back made them taste that much sweeter in the field. A little reward paid by the sweat on your brow and the money your mother would toll out for the fresh fruit.

Well, well worth the price.

Spring is coming like her book says and you sweep and dust her house.

#bakugou x reader #bakugou Katsuki x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugo x reader #kitten writes bakugou 🖤🐈‍⬛ 🖋️

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captainmera · 8 months

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i have a goofy little headcanon that since luz barely made it through getting a boiling isles sickness, most of the hexsquad would absolutely not be able to handle a human realm sickness. like amity could hold together pretty well, but gus gets the fever and is genuinely convinced he’s dying or something. thoughts?

I agree hahaha, Amity got sick in my fanfic! Actually! and I think to Witches; the amount of achoos, dripping snot, and feeling like your head is a bowl of hot soup you gotta balance is, like, pretty awful to them.

The illnesses of the BI seem to have a biological and anatomical different influence as far as characteristics go. Luz still got a stuffy nose and droopy eyes, but otherwise, the effects seemed to be different. So I think to Witches: getting a runny nose is just as gross of an illness to them, as having shrooms grow from your head is to us.

First, I think Gus would be excited to be informed he had a human fever. And then hate every minute that followed once the symptoms showed up.

I think Gus would be very melodramatic, and Hunter would be all doting on him. Worried at first until Gus gets all "Oh woe me!" And Hunter just "lol okay buddy drink your tea and read your book."

Aaannd as a huntlow hooligan myself, who loves Willow being mischievous.

Maybe Willow would be envious of the attention Gus is getting and gets sick on purpose, only to have Amity be all "HUNTER, YOU TAKE GUS I WILL HELP WILLOW" as she's eager to prove herself more to Willow.

Gus and Willow just: "NOOOO TITAN DANGIT!" "THAT'S WHAT YOU GET FOR GETTING SICK ON PURPOSE! WHY WOULD YOU WANT THIS?!" "I WANTED HUNTER TO BE CUTE TO ME TOO." "WELL, IS IT WORTH IT WILLOW? IS THIS DEMISE WORTH IT?!" "I THOUGHT I'D LOOK ALL, Y'KNOW- Beautiful like that historical drama Camila showed us! BUT I'M DISGUSTIIINNNG. I dont want him to see me like thiiiiss! 😭💦" "Willow, you took one look at MY ILL-RIDDEN FACE and thought OH, YEAH, I CAN MAKE THAT WORK?!"

And she sneezes in his face, and they both run around yelling where they're quarantined in the bedroom together - y'know like the bestie duo they are. Complaining about headaches and feeling cold, lamenting over their poor choices in life.

"Gus, did you ever think it would end like this?" "The grimwalker is a surprise."

Vee gives them the i-pad to watch a series on, and they get really invested in the 1995 TV show rendition of Pride and Prejudice. For no other reason than that Immmmm biased and I HC Willow and Camila to be into historical frilly romances. Gus has thoughts on it.

LoL.

#toh #toh ask #toh willow #toh gus #gus porter #willow park #the emerald duo #emerald duo #tgb #tgb au

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fruitchouli · 4 months

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the tiktok perfume realm is so weeirdd it’s majority people who got into perfume during quarantine and just decided to film a few perfume videos for fun but then got lifted up to influencer status way too quick so now people are taking recs from IDIOTS with no knowledge of beauty or glamour and don’t know vetiver from sandalwood and just tel u to buy whatever SHIT they get sent for free. as a result of no perfume knowledge having hoes being given authority, the scents that get really hyped on tiktok just aren’t so good and then normal people buy them and go wtf did i just spend my hard earned money on? and then they feel gaslit to try more and more tiktok viral perfumes because EvEryOne Loves them but they’re really all DUDS. spiritual justice. it must exist

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silverbastardgoldenfool · 2 months

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Fitz:

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gayndepressed666 · 11 months

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#surely someone else has done this #rote #realm of the elderlings #fitz and the fool #fitzchivalry farseer #the fool #realm of the quarantine #robin hobb

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darkmessiah2000 · 1 year

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The end of an era…

I first discovered The Owl House back when the Pandemic/Quarantine first started, and it has gotten me through so much

Watching & Dreaming literally had me in tears, truly one of the most amazing animated series finales I have ever seen,

Luz got to go home, live her life whilst still being able to travel back & forth between the realms so I got what I wanted

Now the curtain has fallen, we give a round of applause and head towards the exit

Thank you Dana Terrace for everything @danaterrace

Goodbye, Farewell, & Amen

“Us weirdos have to stick together”

“BYEEEE”

Now time for my ending playlist

youtube

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emdeerm · 7 months

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Prompt/Idea

Change of Order

(the title to this one is literally the name of the song that inspired it)

The reveal went bad.

Danny was captured and tortured in many horrifying ways. They chipped his core.

He was rescued by his friends and other Ghosts. He was healed. But the wounds on his heart and mind never went away. They continued to fester.

He wanted to hurt those, who hurt him. He wanted to inflicted suffering onto his person and his people friends. He wanted them to beg.

He wanted them to suffer.

When Dan's rage was hot as fire, Danny's has turned into a biting cold, blue ice that was ready to strike when it was sharpened.

Clockwork did not get in his way. There was no reason to.

His Core healed. He was strong. Among the strongest out there.

But he needed to be even stronger.

He released Pariah. He defeated him for real. It was a Bitter fight to the End.

A few years later after his rescue, he was crowned.

Sam and him got married somewhere along the line. They adopted Dani, or Ellie as she decided she prefered to be called. Tucker was one of his closest advisers. Jazz has fled their parents too and she was his rock in the hard times when she wasn't exploring the Infinite Realms.

The living never stopped their research. They, just like Danny, were preparing for the complete eradication of the disgusting Ghosts. The Fentons were especially keen in getting rid of the Ghost that dared to pretend to be their son. The wanted them gone. They were almost ready.

On the day of his 22nd birthday, he got the notice that the GiW, the Fentons and their weapons have entered the quarantined zone.

It was show time

___

It was a blood bath. The Ghosts were victorious.

#danny phantom #ghost king danny #ghost king au #so.. uh...#Danny is not doing well #well #he wasn't. His friends and mentors guided him. He had just never let go of the need for revenge #The Ghosts never discouraged it either #Pariah dark is dead dead #moraly grey Danny #go listen to the song and bend the lyrics a little for this prompt to make sense #anyway #this has been on my mind for.... 2 months? 3?#danny phantom prompt 3

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ghostlyycookies · 3 months

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✩ magical menace ✩

@celestialwrites for dialogue prompts

sfw very, very spicy at end wc: 1,055 pairing: gn!apprentice reader x Lucio summary: Count Lucio summons you for another meeting, and you begrudgingly agree attend with intentions that lead to something more. a/n: an au universe where the plague caused a massive quarantine in the city. Lucio has no affiliations with the Devil but knowledge of the Arcana.

You scoffed at your surroundings. Did the Count of Vesuvia really think these stone walls could hold you back? You hoped he didn’t, otherwise he was truly a fool.

While you waited for Lucio, you looked out the narrow window of his office. There wasn’t much to see. The city streets were bare except for a few merchants that were knocking on doors to deliver orders for their customers.

“Oh Lucio, however are you going to fix this?” You tsked, sensing his presence.

“I-um, how did you know I was here?” Lucio walked to you and frowned. He drew the curtains that separated his office from the hallway and closed the door behind him.

Shrugging your shoulders, you replied, “you have a unique aura whenever you are in a room. It isn’t hard to figure it out.” You turned around and crossed your arms over your chest, looking at him straight in the eyes.

“Enough,” Lucio commanded, lifting a hand in front of you. “You and I have to talk about…this.” He motioned to the window. “The plague.”

“We magicians can only do so much, you know. We’re not invincible or have a solution for everything.” You replied. “I’ve told you this many times.”

“But you and Asra do!” Lucio countered. “I know about your ties with the Arcana and how they can fuse their powers to you. Use it.” His face turned red when you gave him a knowing look.

This wasn’t the first time Lucio called you into his private office, and it wasn’t going to be his last. The past couple times he pulled you in were for simple problems, such as getting rid of the insects in his menagerie, or dust for his allergies. Soon his calls increased and with each one came with added tension. The Count was easily flustered by the simplest compliment you gave him and tried his best to be humble. If compliments weren’t exchanged, then it was small arguments that you always won.

As time passed, you noticed that Lucio started to give into some of your friendly demands such as sitting down on a chair to listen to him, pick up your tarot cards that you “dropped” or ask him to look into your eyes to see how serious you were. It was an odd yet exciting to see him like that. You knew you had power over, but wanted to use it at the right time.

“Unfortunately, love, Asra isn’t here. There needs to be two of us to go into the magical realm, or to even get in contact with the Arcana.” You said simply, giving him a pointed look. Lucio’s eyes twitched as you spoke.

Love. When was the last time Nadia called him that?

“S-stop it,” he said, flustered. “If you don’t do anything I’ll burn your shop down!”

“Can you break the protection spell, love?” You lightly taunted, striding to him. You gave him a heated look, not because you were angry, but because you were amused. Feeling embarrassed, Lucio tried to call for his beloved pups, hoping to intimidate you. Instead, you locked the door and pulled him in front of you with the flick of your fingers. Out of instinct, Lucio grabbed a dagger hidden in his jacket and hovered it in front of your throat. He pinned you against a wall with his body and had one of his knees separating your legs. With his golden fingers on his other hand, he wrapped them around your wrists above your head so you were trapped.

“My goodness,” you breathed, “did Nadia get this type of attention from you?”

“Don’t make me.” He warned. You knew Lucio was restraining himself, rejecting his desire to slash your throat because this visit wasn’t going his way.

Not afraid, you threaded your fingers through his blond hair and cooed, “my little Count Lucio.” For a moment, Lucio leaned into your touch, closing his eyes and relished the feeling of your nimble digits changing from his hair to the side of his neck. It felt natural compared to Nadia’s touch, which felt forced and cold. His hold on his dagger loosened, and when he felt it nearly fell from his fingers, he open his eyes and regained his composure.

He brought the blade back to your skin. “Stop it.”

“Hmm? I didn’t catch that.” You inquired, faking ignorance, “I think the noise was just—” Lucio’s hold on his dagger didn’t move. Instead, he brought his face in front of yours and interrupted your taunt.

“Kiss me.”

“You have a dagger to my throat, love.” You purred. Lucio gently thrusted his knee up, caressing your pulsing center.

“And?” Lucio laughed. “It’s not like that can stop you, you menace.”

Using a shield spell, you engulfed yourself in protective light, making him bounce back. There was nothing but a sliver of light between your lips.

“T-that’s not fa—” he whined. He wanted you. And you wanted him. “Why are you being this way?”

“You want me?” After Lucio eagerly nodded his head, you made him fall on his knees by waving your hand down which he didn’t resist. You dropped the protection spell made him hover face to face, gently lifting up his head by putting your fingers under his chin. With your lips just a few centimeters away from his, you demanded quietly, “you have to earn me, little Count.”

“I will do anything you say,” Lucio pleaded, trying to break through your magical grip. “Kneel, compliment, kiss, make love to you...” His voice trailed. “Just let me have you.”

You shook your head, undeterred by his reasons. “My little Count, you have to do much more than that to earn me.” You countered. Lucio shivered with excitement and anger. His eyes betrayed his sexual frustration as he begged to touch you. When you let him go, he held your throat with his natural hand and had his golden one at your collarbone. He slowly made a small cut in the middle of your throat and shoulder, licking each drop of blood that came out of your wound.

“Like this?” Lucio growled in your ear.

You sighed as he licked your skin and nodded your head. “Yes, my love.” You moaned and pressed your finger on his, making him cut deeper. “Just like that.”

ending inspired by @demigoddessqueens

#the arcana #the arcana lucio x reader #the arcana writing #the arcana x reader #lucio x reader #count lucio x reader #lucio morgasson #lucio morgasson x reader

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