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new-revenant · 1 year

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Hello! That demon AU looks fun! May I please ask for more details? Like, for example what counts as a demon in this universe? Is there like - an implication that demons exist alongside angels and all that religious jazz, or are they basically the Fae?

And Phantom - is he his own thing that was just super weakened and merged with Danny for survival, or is it like canon and Danny is essentially a new demon? Maybe that's why everyone attacks him and his city, they think this lil baby man is all set on building his presence and essentially went ' hold up tiny, let the big boys have cults, you go and do whatever, come back in like a hundred years ' while Danny is just doing his thing and trying to protect everyone.

I'm sorry if I'm rambling, this AU just made my lil funky brain gears turn, I'm very happy right now •^•

The art is also very nice, i love it!

Why thank you! I’m going to answer these questions from top to bottom, starting with what counts as a demon. It’s under the cut because this is a bit long.

I guess they are a bit similar to the Fae, like, there are religious elements and a lot of ways demons and angels work is based on religion, but God isn’t really confirmed to exist and isn’t confirmed to have created everything and all that. But you know how Butch retconned to make it that ghosts were just monsters from another dimension or something? Yeah that’s canon here, but with demons.

Now angels also exist, and angels who don’t do what they are essentially “programmed” to do are cast out as demons. What angels are programmed to do can range from very specific to very broad, such as “protect this certain human from harm,” to “warn these certain humans when something bad happens,” to “watch over humanity as a whole.” The broader the order, usually, the higher up an angel is on their little hierarchy. Arch angels are usually the ones on the tippy top, and are the only ones with names. They watch over all angels and keep demons at bay.

At first, demons aren’t all “I will contract a human for their soul” and all that, they tend to focus in on what they wanted to do/experience that made them go outside of their programming. It’s like the obsession hc, but this obsession is usually warped or even forgotten as time goes on. Eventually, they seek out humans to try to live/do something through them.

Phantom, for example, is a demon who forgot what he originally fell for. He chose his name to be “Mira Phantasm, the Demon of Mimicry.” Titles are part of demon names and are very important, which is why all demons shout their name and title, or just their title.

So, right after asking Phantom why he looked like him(he’s the demon of mimicry, he can look like whoever he wants to-with a few minor changes, he’s not perfect at that) Danny called him Danny Phantom, because Phantom sounds like Fenton and his name was also Mira Phantasm, it all worked out. Phantom actually really liked that joke, so it was the first “bonding moment” between the two.

Why Phantom sorta merged with Danny is for a few reasons. Firstly, Phantom and Danny kinda get along. Kinda, but it is better than most human-demon relationships(platonic). Secondly, Danny reminded Phantom what he fell for-to live life as a human being does. He wanted to be with them so badly, to be free like them, that he was cast out and became an enemy of the angels. Thirdly, it was more like Danny made a deal with Phantom rather than the other way around.

Phantom struck up a deal at the exact moment Danny turned on the portal. Phantom offered him the ability to survive it and live again, as long as Phantom got his soul. Danny would’ve obviously denied that, if not for him wanting to live. Danny asked him what caused him to fall. After that, Danny made a deal of “If I get to live, I get your powers and you’ll help me stop other demons from hurting others. In exchange, you’ll be able to live as a human alongside me.” Phantom agreed.

You see, making a deal with a demon is different from a demon making a deal with you-it essentially is based on who gains more from the relationship. Most demons want to gain more than a human would, but with Phantom remembering how much he so desperately wanted to be a human, he was willing to give up everything for that. It was a very rash decision, but that’s just how most deals with demons work.

Now, since Phantom looks and acts a lot differently to Danny, most demons assume that he is just a new demon, that might have to do with the new disappearance of Phantom. Danny also acts a lot differently than most demons as well, he specifically stops other demons from harming or harassing others. But he also just does human things sometimes, which is Phantom taking control and living out through him. So most demons-and some demon hunters(wink wink nudge nudge)-think he is a baby demon who fell because he wanted to help humans a bit too much. And maybe killed Phantom and absorbed his powers somehow, since he can still mimic other demon’s powers, just much weaker than Phantom can.

Hope that answers all your current questions! You can ask me more if you want. Thank you for the ask :)

#danny phantom #danny phantom au #danny fenton #dp au #demon au #asked #kitty-av #revenant rambles

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whereonceiwasfire · 2 years

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Hello! If you still need drabbles to tinker with, may I leave a suggestion?

I don't know why but recently I've been really into horror and creepy stuff, so I was wondering if you'd like to do something like that? I actually find a good horror fic really purging for some reason, it's like I have all my anxiety for the next month twisted out of me like a sponge

Maybe it'll help you too!

Here are some ideas if you need them but you can do anything really, it's your drabble

Maybe the concept of facelessness? Things without faces are creepy

You can maybe just do a classic ' nobody is sure what the heck ghosts are but they're very inhuman and creepy, and Danny very much fits in that category '

If you want to vent out how much having a cold sucks again you can probably do something with either overstimulation or numbness in general, like maybe being a ghost is different than being human because you feel nothing physical but you have emotions? So it's like - Danny can't smell or taste anything in ghost form? Maybe he can't feel temperatures of things?

If you're not in a horror mood maybe you can do something with the feeling of being alone while it's all rainy or snowy outside. It's a very special feeling, and it's pretty peaceful, so it would probably be comforting to write •^•

I apologize in advance; I heard "horror" and my brain went brrrrr so this really got away from me haha. Thanks so much for the request, I had a blast writing this horror-ey little oneshot (cause I don't think you can call this a drabble anymore lol)!

Scott gets suggestions, all the time, for your standard fare—Salem, New Orleans, Pine Barrens, Mansfield. He’s been to some of them, is still planning to make it to the other ‘most haunted places in America,’ eventually, so leaves little“soon” or “keep haunting” or “check out my vid on Salem here,” in response to the comments.

But he’s only ever gotten a request to visit a small town he’s never heard of before once—Amity Park. It didn’t come as a comment left on his videos, it wasn’t sent in an email to his account or a DM, it wasn’t even a passing conversation with a barista or a gas station attendant. It was a text to his phone, from an unknown number—the town name, and nothing else. When he tried to answer back, he’d gotten a “message not delivered” notification.

He has to admit, he appreciates the theatrics of it, being something of a thespian himself.

It’s not that he doesn’t believe in what he does, he’s just pragmatic enough to realize that sometimes the paranormal needs a little help. People don’t subscribe to his channel because they want to watch him give a little shiver in his fleece-lined, denim jacket once in a while. No, they watch his channel because they want to see him with wide, reflective eyes glinting like a cat’s in the night vision filter, gasping, and whispering, and going off about the dark presence he feels.

His hopes aren’t high that he’ll get any new content—that there’s anything spookier about the town than its try-hard name. Scott’s not even entirely sure that people will be all that interested in watching a video on the place.

But curiosity gets the better of him, and that’s how he finds himself, van stuffed full, on hour ten of his drive to Amity Park.

It’s dark, his headlights slashing across the highway, illuminating a whole lot of shadowed nothing before him. He squints out the windshield as he lifts the lukewarm dregs of his gas-station coffee to his lips, chugs it back with a grimace, and settles it back into the cupholder.

He knows he’s got to be getting close by now, but none of this is even remotely familiar, and in terms of landmarks, there’s zilch. Just a thick wall of trees on either side of the road, shadows painted upon shadows. Once in a while, he passes a crooked branch, or a roughly hewn rock that’s semi-distinctive, but even those all look the same. It’s almost as though it’s a background on repeat—almost like he’s driving in circles.

Not to mention his crappy old Econoline is the only vehicle on the road. It’s as if he’s driven right off the map.

Where the hell is this town?

“Get it together, Scott,” he says, scrubbing a palm down his face, and cranking The Cure to keep himself awake. “Nobody’s watching, you don’t have to turn on the charm yet.”

He flickers his attention back to the cupholder, instinctively reaching for his coffee again. Pulls his gaze back up before his fingers have curled around the top of the cup.

“Shit! Fuck!” he shouts, immediatly slamming on the brakes, jerking the steering wheel, and fishtailing across the highway as he registers the shadowed figure in the middle of the road.

He’s panting, breathless, when the van screeches to a sideways halt, his fingers gripped so tight around the wheel that his knuckles poke white against the flesh. His head snaps ups, gaze flickering out past the windshield for whatever he thought he saw.

Nothing. The road before him is completely empty.

Scott tries to jerk around, twist a look behind him, but the seatbelt has locked around his torso, click click clicks as he strains against it. Eventually, it releases, and he unclips himself, throws open his door, engine still idling, and clambers out onto the asphalt.

“H-hello?” he calls, Vans scuffing the concrete as he peers into the darkness.

Slowly, he starts to circle around the chunky backside of his overstuffed Econoline, heart pitter-pattering against the walls of his chest as he studies the pavement—dark skid marks drawn like a sketch along his screeching trajectory. His palm rests against the cool aluminum side of the van, and he swallows hard as he stoops to check the undercarriage.

He can’t make out much in the shadows, pulls his phone from his back pocket and turns on the flashlight to sweep back and forth beneath the vehicle.

Nothing.

“What’re you doing?”

Scott gives a strangled cry as he jerks upright, dropping his phone against the pavement with a clatter as his hands lift in an instinctive defense.

But it’s a kid that stands across from Scott. He can’t be much older than fourteen or fifteen—wears grass-stained jeans, a t-shirt, and chucks, his dark, mussed hair blending with the shadows behind him.

Scott has the fleeting consideration that this kid is not what he saw in the road. It was only a second, only a glimpse, but whatever it had been was far larger, steeped in shadow, headlights glinting off little reflective pockets.

“What the hell are you doing?” Scott snaps, shaking himself as he stoops for his phone. It lays on the asphalt between them, flashlight illuminating the boy from below, lending an eerie quality to the already bewildering interaction. “Isn’t it, like, past your bedtime?”

The kid doesn’t answer, just turns the slightest smile, and asks, “You lost?”

There’s something so immediately unsettling about it. About him. Something about the kid’s voiee, the way it almost mirrors the soft susurration of the leaves rustling around them; something about the way the light reflects off his eyes, only the thinnest ring of blue around blown pupils; something about the creeping, prickling sensation across Scott’s skin when the boy steps a little bit closer.

“I’m…looking for a place called Amity Park,” Scott blurts, almost as a way to keep the boy from getting any closer.

The kid does stop, tilting his head, a bit too far to be inquisitive, a bit too far to seem natural.

“For what?” he asks.

“I heard it’s haunted,” Scott said, trying to shake off the weird apprehension he feels.

“It is,” the boy says with such certainty it sends a chill crawling up Scott’s spine.

What the hell is wrong with him? He’s been to graveyards, and generations old houses that look like the set of a horror movie. He’s been to hotels where celebrities OD-ed, and businesses where people were allegedly murdered, and abandoned warehouses, and destitute institutions. He’s spent nights in places most people won’t visit in full daylight with nothing but his phone and a tripod.

So why is he so jumpy all of a sudden—so put off by one little kid? Albeit, a spooky little shit who, for some reason, is on the side of the highway at 1:00am. But still.

“I can show you how to get there,” the kid says, lifting on his toes and cupping his hands around his face as he presses his nose to the back window of Scott’s van. “If you give me a ride home.”

“You kidding? I’m a stranger. That’s not safe. Haven’t your parents taught you anything? I could be a serial killer.” On the other hand, should Scott be leaving a scrappy little tweenager on the side of the road?

The kid just slowly turns his head toward Scott, a too-wide smile stretching across his face, teeth glinting a little too sharp in the wan moonlight.

“I’m not worried,” he says. Then, giving a dismissive wave, features smoothing out so fast Scott wonders that he ever saw anything unusual at all, the kid continues. “Besides. You can’t get to Amity without a guide.”

“What?”

But the kid is already circling around to the passenger side door, hauling it open, and slipping into Scott’s van—either not hearing or just not bothering to answer the question.

Scott just gives his head a shake, and clambers back into the vehicle, pulling the door shut with a loud thud as he settles into the driver’s seat. Even though the engine is still running, the heater blasting, there's a chill in the cab, and Scott gives a little shiver.

The kid is folded up in the passenger seat, has his knees to his chest, his chucks propped up on Scott’s dashboard—is turning an EMP reader over in his hands with his eyebrows lifted.

“Can you not?” Scott asks, snatching the device from the kid’s hand and tossing it into the back. “And for fuck’s sake, put on a seatbelt. I’m not going to be responsible for you getting splattered across the highway.”

“Why do you care? I thought you were a serial killer?” the kid asks with a sarcastic turn to the words, but he obliges, strapping himself in with a click.

“Ha. Ha. Look, kid—” but Scott doesn’t get any further than that, a disquiet gripping in his chest the second he turns a glance over at the boy.

“Danny,” he supplies, snapping Scott out of it.

He shakes himself as he turns his attention out the windshield as he eases the van back into the proper lane of the empty highway.

“Look, Danny,” he manages with a hard swallow. “I don’t know what you were doing out here in the middle of the night. Quite frankly, I don’t want to know. But you can’t be pulling shit like that. It’s dangerous.”

“You swear a lot, you know?” Danny says, popping open Scott’s glove compartment and rifling through the CD cases there.

Right. Kid.

“You can’t be pulling crap like that,” Scott amends.

Danny ignores him completely, lifting an absent glance out the windshield and pointing, “You see that rock up there?”

Scott’s brow furrows. Okay, he’s sure he’s passed that rock already. But that’s impossible. He hasn’t turned off this straight stretch of highway in almost an hour.

“You’re going to want to make a left up there,” Danny says.

“There’s isn’t a left up—” but Scott cuts off as they draw near, because there is. A left-hand turn onto a paved road that he could've sworn wasn't there a second ago There are no signs, nothing to indicate what road they’re turning onto, but it’s undeniably a road.

Scott turns a wary glance over at the kid, back out the windshield, slowing as he clicks on his turn signal.

“What did you mean when you said you can’t get to Amity Park without a…guide?” Scott asks, wringing his grip around the steering wheel.

Danny opens up one of Scott’s CD cases, pops out the disc, and starts spinning it around his index finger.

“I mean. Just that? The town doesn’t just, like, show itself to people. But you can’t just come and go either, so getting a guide is hard. Guess you could say you were lucky. If Boxy hadn’t been messing around today, I might not have been out far enough to find you. Don’t think I caught your name, by the way? It it something cool like Riker, or Arrow, or something? You look like you could have a cool name.”

“Uh. Scott,” he answers, brow twisting even further.

“Lame.”

“You got quite the imagination on you, hey kid?” Scott asks, gaze out the windshield, turning over the boy's strange story in his head.

“I guess,” Danny says with a shrug before popping the CD back into the case and pulling out the cover booklet instead, flipping absently through the lyric pages.

They fall silent, and Scott tries to ignore the strange, increasing sense of wrongness that pervades the cab of his Econoline—the prickle up the back of his neck; the feeling of a hundred eyes on him; the heavy, oppressive sense there’s more than just him and the kid in his car.

Scott lets out a quiet scoff as he grabs for his coffee again and tips back the empty paper cup, getting nothing but a couple cold drips for his effort.

He's gonna need to crash for a solid day when he finally makes it to this stupid town. His exhausted mind is obviously playing games with him.

After a couple minutes, the trees thin out on either side of the road, streetlights and powerlines cropping up as though out of nowhere, following their progress toward the faint glow of civilization in the distance. Scott releases a tight sigh when he sees it, the promise of other people setting his jangled nerves at ease.

They’re just passing a large sign emblazoned with Amity Park, A Nice Place to Live, when something swoops out of the sky at them with a deafening shriek.

Scott swears, slams on his brakes for the second time that night, throwing an instinctive arm out to catch the kid from being thrown forward into the dash.

“What the fuck?” Scott shouts when they’ve ground to a halt, twisting a bewildered glance over his shoulder where he can see the creature doubling back through the dark sky above.

It’s ephemeral and insubstantial—beats glowing wings around a shifting, changing form that takes on the likeness of a massive vulture. Its body stretches further across than the Econoline, and it opens a beak of shadow to let out another piercing cry. Scott throws his hands over his ears, winces as spiderweb cracks run through his windshield.

Two pairs of blood-red eyes peer out from the sleek shape of the beast's head, and they blink sideways at him just before the creature rears, readying to dive again.

“Okay, this is getting annoying now,” Danny says with a put-upon sigh, like this is nothing more inconvenient than misplacing his keys. “Give me a sec.”

If Scott hadn’t watched it happen—scrabbling back in his seat with a shriek, trying to get as far away as possible—he wouldn’t believe it was real.

The kid’s slightly disproportionate form stretches out with a shiver of glowing light, elbows, knees, popping out of joint, bending backward as he elongates into something inhuman. His skin melts into shadow, fingers tapering into glimmering bone claws, features swallowed up with blackness, nothing but a yawning, glowing mouth taking up the space where the rest of his features should be. It opens wide—rows of teeth, a long, forked tongue—screaming back at the bird as the kid's monstrous form melts through the vehicle like he’s passing through water. Reflective green eyes blink open all over the shadowy, humanoid shape, slitted pupils all snapping over to the wheeling vulture in unison.

The kid, the…monster…effortlessly catches the bird out of the air before it can set upon the van, his fingers bleeding like tendrils of ink as they stretch to encompass the writhing, flapping, screeching vulture. Whatever the phantom says to it sounds more like static than words—an indistinguishable hiss. The bird just lets out another shriek that rumbles the road beneath Scott’s car.

The shadowy creature the kid’s turned into just shakes its faceless head—unhinges his jaw, that horrible mouth stretching larger than should be possible—before he stuffs the bird in whole.

“Fuck no,” Scott breathes as he slams the van into reverse, twists his head over his shoulder and he stomps on the gas.

He doesn’t even have time to whip into a violent, dangeroud U-turn—only gets to the town line, the very edge of the Amity Park sign, before the car shudders to a stop, the crumple of aluminum like he’s come up against a wall. He’s thrown forward against the seatbelt, gives a grunt, blinks bewilderedly behind him.

What the…?

There’s nothing in his way, no reason he should have stopped.

“Don’t worry.”

The voice is entirely inhuman—Danny’s kiddish lilt overlaid with something echoing and eternal—and when Scott turns forward, that creature is lumbering toward the van on its almost canine, bipedal feet.

“No, no, no.” Scott scrambles to free himself from the seatbelt, spills out of the van, and immediately skirts a few steps backward, glancing up at the creature blinking a dozen glowing eyes at him.

He bumps up against nothing, can’t move any further than the invisible line drawn in the sand between this damned little town and the world beyond.

“Don’t worry,” the creature repeats again as it clambers over the van like it’s skirting a decorative rock in somebody’s garden. “I protect this town.”

It looms over Scott at seven—eight feet tall? Reaches an arm toward him, stretching long, impossible fingers toward him.

Scott tries to run the only direction he can—parallel to the town line—his Vans crunching against gravel before tendrils snap around his ankle, blood rushing to his head as he’s lifted upside down, suspended in front of the creature. Those dozen eyes stare at him.

“Holy shit, man. Look, I’m sorry. Please don’t fucking eat me,” Scott panics and writhes, tries to twist out of the grasp, to no avail.

The phantom creature just cocks its head, a facsimile of the boy’s inquisitive tilt from earlier.

What, the, fuck?

“I’m not going to eat you.” It gives a childish laugh, haunting in its sharp, piercing clarity where it comes from that horrific, monstrous mouth. “Weren’t you listening? I protect this town. And you’re part of this town now.”

“No, man, I just want to go home. This is too much.” Scott sways listlessly back and forth as he gives up trying to free himself.

“...you…can’t? I thought I told you. Humans can’t just come and go.”

“What?” Scott asks, breathless.

The creature gently rights him—lowers him to the ground beside his van. He has to steady himself on the hood to keep his knees from buckling, blinks sightlessly up at the phantom creature.

There’s another, unnatural shiver through the air, a ripple of glowing light over the creature’s body, and then, that little kid is standing in front of Scott again, scrubbing a hand up his arm.

“Hey, I’m sorry,” Danny says, features twisting up into a frown. “I thought you—I mean. People don’t usually come here from, like, other places. When they do, it’s because they have nowhere else to go. I thought. I just figured…”

Scott doesn’t know exactly what the boy is, if the kiddish face he wears is some kind of ruse, but Scott’s sure prefers him this way. Even though, now that he knows what it is, there’s still something so distinctly inhuman about him. The way his features don’t look molded quite right, pulled just slightly beyond the realm of natural; the way his eyes seem lit from something within, carrying a faint, residual glow like the dozens of eyes he wore when he became that…phantom; the way his arms, his fingers, seem just a little bit too long, his teeth just a little bit too sharp, his joints extending just a little bit further than they should be able to.

“How is this even real?” Scott chokes out with a manic little laugh.

“Strictly speaking, it’s, uh, not,” Danny says. When Scott just turns a helpless, defeated look over at him, he shrugs, averts his gaze. “Amity Park, uh, doesn’t exist. Not. Not in the human realm, anyway. I—it’s hard to explain. My parents can do a better job.”

“Parents,” Scotts breathes, disbelieving.

“Yeah. C’mon. I’ll introduce you. You’ve got a lot to learn,” Danny says, shrugging off this life-ruining news with unsettling ease—an inhuman lack of concern—as he jerks his head back toward the van.

As Scott dazedly follows the kid back to his own vehicle, Danny starts, turns, smiles up at him. The sight of it sends shivers crawling up Scott's spine.

“I almost forgot,” Danny says before sweeping an arm out to the city sprawling out before them. “Welcome to Amity Park.”

#drabble requests #Except can this really be counted as a drabble i dont think so #phanfic #danny phantom #this is all kinds of AU #but don't ask me specifics cause i was just vibing #danny fenton #au #outsider POV #horror #kitty-av #thanks for the request!

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astrangeavenue · 2 years

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thinkin bout.... herding cats

ID: a digital drawing featuring solidarity (jimmy) from empires smp season 2, as well as a horse and several cats and creepers. they are set on a sparsely grassed and flowered mesa plateau, other parts of the mesa visible in the background against a light blue sky. jimmy, drawn in his mc sheriff skin, is riding on a dark brown horse with white spots, norman as well lying down on the horse in front of him. they are both watching several cats herd creepers, similarly to how herding dogs herd cattle. two of the cats are climbing up the hill behind them, two are running forwards, and two are standing in a wide, readied pose. the creepers, drawn as strange furry long-necked creatures with large eyes, thin cloven legs, and short tails, are hurrying away from the cats and out of frame of the drawing. end ID.

#repost cause it didnt show up in the tags #empires smp #empires smp fanart #empires smp season 2 #esmp #empires jimmy #yes all the kitties are those of esmp members :)#solidaritygaming #mcyt #aves art #shoutout to mcyt-cats that blog is how i found all th ekitties #minecraft creeper

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calemakarist · 18 days

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Avs need to stop passing so much, have more net front presence, and be very deliberate when they do pass the puck

#avs lb #coach kittie reporting for duty

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toffoliravioli · 2 years

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Some days it’s like:

But also it’s like:

Cale rlly said I love you bro but right now I’m gonna skate circles around you and break your ankles-

#HELP IM CACKLING #he’s so real for that #Cale said rawr #fiesty kitty #nazem kadri #cale makar #colorado avalanche #calgary flames #avs lb #flames lb

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dayurno · 2 months

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who up wanting to. cook kevin day delicious chicken and veggies curry

#could and WOULD fix him #i just woke up from a 3 hr nap entirely out of my mind ravenously hungry and my first thought was #Veggie Curry #and then. KevinDay #and i guess my brain kind of performed a mashup there #but nonetheless he would love it........... he would need it...........#kevin day if he was a normal person he would be on tumblr posting save me soups.s ave me stews #save me curry #save me 9pm bedtime #unlike jean who would be posting hello kitty bpd images #and andrew who would be stuck on the tiktok dopamine loop #txt #kevin

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green-51 · 10 months

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I find it terribly fitting that Marvel has kicked off the fall of the Mutant nation of Krakoa on the eve of the 9th of Av, the day of remembrance for the fall of the Temple in Jerusalem and the exile of the Jews from the holy land.

#marvel #x men #krakoa #tisha b'av #9th of av #jumblr #judaism #mutants #feeling so bad for kitty pryde rn

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xxgothbitchfromhellxx · 1 month

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placing my hands gently but firmly on your shoulders. if you like a fever you can’t sweat out and you want more music with a similar vibe, listen to a verbal equinox and the dresden dolls

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ballsakic · 1 year

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In March, I adopted a new cat. Precious, sweet, attention-hungry little sweetheart. Lol

This is my Big Moose, Mikko Cat-anen.

I love him. He’s 2 years old. Loves to eat. Loves to snuggle. Purrs like crazy.

#mikko rantanen #Mikko cat-anen #Avs #kitty #cat #big moose #colorado avalanche

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shiroselia · 1 year

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Dock varför i helvete kör RuPaul bussen helt plötsligt

#dr sverige #drag race sverige #Kitty Girl från ingenstans???#based dock för det är en av två bra låtar Ruple gjort men ändån #Varfan kom han ifrån???

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forthekakko · 1 year

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God i love bo byram 😌 big yell celly

#avs lb #kitty man!

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andrebearakovsky · 2 years

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After taking some time to digest, I have some thoughts about that first round:

This was never about the Caps. This is the Panthers’ story.

My dad has this belief especially in sports that he likes to call “due theory,” and the way it works is if someone has had a long drought or say the power play has been 0 for its last 20 or something, he’ll say “Oh they’re due. Due theory.” Basically saying their fortunes will change because they’re owed one, or their luck won’t stay that same way forever. I think you get the gist.

Anyway, while preparing to watch overtime of Game 6, he said: “Due theory! Caps are due” rooting for an OT winner. And obviously that didn’t happen, but later I realized that due theory did in fact apply to OT, just not for the Caps, because the Panthers’ due theory was stronger. They haven’t won a playoff round since 1996. They’ve never won a Cup ever. Caps have done both of those things very recently. Florida’s due theory simply won out; it wasn’t our time.

While we may be disappointed, it just simply isn’t about us. This is the Panthers’ journey, and we were simply a stepping stone on their path. I personally believe a Battle of Florida rematch was simply destined to happen; any Panthers path to the Cup has to have them beating their most bitter rivals (Tampa) along the way, much like the Caps had to beat Pittsburgh along their way; coincidentally it also happened to be in the second round when their rivals were two-time reigning Cup Champs. This is their moment, their story, and tbh I can feel a little bit of the magic there. As much as we may not like it, we were simply supporting characters, and it’s time to sit back and let the story unfold.

#there’s just a lot of narrative #narrative too strong #not to mention there’s a possibility that if they make the cup final #it’ll be against the avs #which is the team that beat them in the cup final in 1996 #(which was the last year they won a playoff round)#so we’ll see #rooting for you kitties #unless you face the blues #washington capitals #florida panthers

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mizugucci · 1 year

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watching peaktime and doing a stroll down memory lane re: my fav nugus makes me want to put everything on this main blog & not split onto a sideblog

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pinkhelados · 3 months

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hey, kitty - miguel ohara x reader!

summary: you take in a stray hybrid. Overtime, the pull of your love draws in the reluctant hybrid to your arms.

contains: hybrid au, cat!hybrid!miguel x fem!reader, very fluffy, nsfw (more towards the end.) mentions of titty sucking, oral sex (fem receiving)

A dark, chocolate colored tail flicked from behind a tree. You stopped jogging and made your way to peek behind the thick spruce where you found a hybrid lounging under the shade. The cat bolted up onto his feet and barred his fangs, he swatted your face with his talons and but luckily, you managed to dodge. “Don’t worry, kitty. I’m not gonna hurt ya,” You smiled and reached out to try and pet him which only got you another close call with those deadly fingerpads of his. “Leave,” the hybrid scowled.

Something drew you to this specific kitty, perhaps the attitude or how handsome his face was. Either way, you wanted to bring him with you. “Come on, you’re hungry. I can feed you and everything!”

You weren’t sure why you were so inclined on the idea of keeping this stray, but something in your gut urged you to keep pushing, and you did, for thirty minutes.

“Ave Maria- Fine! I’ll come with you if you can just be quiet,” He grunted, fluffy ears turned back and clearly sick of all the nagging.

Eyes lighting up, your lips curled up into a big grin. You grabbed his hand to pull him into a hug which got your the talons.

“Oye!”

“Sorry.”

Miguel was a picky eater, picky sleeper, picky everything. For a stray, he sure knew his preferences.

The first few months of his stay, he’d sleep in his own space away from you with his tail curled up around his massive thigh by the window. When he’d doze off, he’d easily wake at the sound of footsteps or the jingle of your keys when you’d come back from errands. Miguel would bolt upwards, eyes wide and alert before realizing it was just you and go back to his nap. He was weary of you but you respected it. Miguel liked his space, but that didn’t mean he’d be isolated forever.

You were up late watching a film one night when the door to your bedroom creaked open. The six-foot-nine hybrid stared at you with his intense, unblinking eyes. The film was paused. He’d typically be asleep by now but here he was standing in front of your television not saying a word.

“What’s up?” You asked tentatively. Miguel’s tail swished nervously behind, his jaw clenching tighter with every passing moment. “Your bed’s more comfortable then mine…”

Oh!

Heart speeding, you eagerly lifted the sheets for him to join you. The matress shifted downwards with the weight of Miguel as he crawled into bed with you. The hybrid’s burly arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you against his broad chest and resting his on your head. Miguel’s lips twitched into a brief smile. “Mm,” He grunted.

Miguel’s scent filled your nostrils and you nuzzled your cheek against his neck. He smelled earthy. Like pine on a rainy day. His large hand traced the curves of your body and after a while, he turned down to gaze into your eyes. You saw it, the expresión of yearning in his maroon hues. Miguel had been wanting this just as much as you had. You could see your face reflecting on his dilated pupils and you shared that same look of affection.

A deep purr rumbled from the depths of his chest, and you reached up to scratch the backside of his fluffy ears which he gladly welcomed. His plush lips pursed outwards. “Something wrong?” You whispered over the rich purring coming from his throat. “No,” he hummed, hugging you closer to wrap his brown, fluffy tail around your waist.

“I just haven’t made a sound like this in a long time.”

Sleeping in the same bed became a nightly ritual for you and your hybrid. Curled up under blankets with his beefy arms tight around your waist. After a year, Miguel got comfortable and he was comfortable quick which you loved. He was fond of your breasts, touching them, kneading them, suckling on them after a particularly stressful day. When he wasn’t lounging by himself, he’d be in the kitchen. He’d stand behind you peppering kisses to your neck while you fixed up breakfast in the wee hours of the morning. You were his person and he’d make it known. Scenting, biting, you name it. Miguel had marked you with no intention of sharing his precious human. Miguel wasn’t overly jealous, he knew that you’d come home smelling of other hybrids, something to be expected when living in such a populated city. Certain instances would make him snap, though.

“Miguel!” You squirmed under every lap of his rough tongue. His ears perked up at tour noises, but he was to distracted by the taste of your cunt to care. Juices ran down his chin, claws digging into the fat of your thighs. It was pornographic. The slurping and sucking on your clit had your hips bucking into his skilled tongue, pussy sqeezing around his girthy fingers. “That’s it,” he groaned. “No one makes you feel like this, just me.” Miguel kissed your clit before enveloping it once more, sucking on it until you were coming for the second time. “Such a pretty pussy, nena. You’re soaked,” He smirked a little, clearly proud of how undone you’d become. He dove right back into your glistening folds, hooked nose bumping against your perky clit to coax out another orgasm.

“Youre my human. All mine.”

a/n: i love cat boys y’all

#I’m so normal bout him lol #need him in my bed fr #miguel ohara #miguel ohara smut #miguel o’hara x reader #spider man #spider man x reader #writing #astv smut #fluff #astv miguel #astv #spiderman 2099

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mysterious-moonstruck-musings · 2 months

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Closed Position: Deconstructing Dieter Bravo

Closed Position Masterlist ||| Main Masterlist I did a Deconstructing Dieter Bravo series for Destiny & Deliverance, so I thought it might be fun to continue that tradition with Closed Position since this Dieter does have some interesting things going on that we can delve deeper into.

I had several people comment/dm me about two things after the first chapter that I think would be fun to discuss further. Those were of course, Dieter’s plant hobby and the fluffy menace hanging around his house.

To most, these two things may seem very random and unrelated. However, they really aren’t. They do serve a bigger purpose to the story…because of course they do. When do I ever not have deeper meaning behind something, right? 😏

Plant Dad Dieter

First, I have included some more Dieter aesthetic pictures above that I had saved. It's a whole ✨vibe✨. Second, I must thank @readingiskeepingmegoing for coming up with the new #PlantDadDieter hashtag… because it’s so on point. I’m totally going with it! 💜

On to the good stuff...what have we learned about Dieter after the first installment? I think we can safely identify three things: he spends a lot of time alone, he feels misunderstood, and he doesn’t appear to have any deep or meaningful relationships. This will be a theme that comes up a lot with him, especially starting in Week 2 when we open with him having a chat with his therapist.

How does this relate to plants, you ask? Let’s start with Dieter’s history…the man has never had a real relationship. He’s never connected with anyone, whether that be friend or significant other. He was a party boy that indulged in the physical pleasures of life while avoiding any real intimacy. Most of his relationships were based on sex and favors. We will worry about why he is this way later, but for now, just know that’s where he's at emotionally.

Dieter has never really had a bond with anyone or anything. Now that he is sober and realizing how alone he is, he’s seeking that connection any way he can and doesn’t even really realize it (yet).

Sure, being a plantsman does have perks as it is relaxing and can have a positive impact on one’s mental health. However, it’s causing Dieter to learn how to care about something - how to be selfless and nurturing with his time. He has to put in a lot of effort to keep everything alive and healthy and he quickly realizes that putting in that time and energy makes him happy. Also, the plants don't judge him or his past.

Now, for some fun stuff because some of you asked…

Does Dieter talk to his plants? He 100% talks to the plants. He doesn’t know if it actually does anything, but he figures it can’t hurt to try. It also helps him feel less alone as he does see them as living things. They do breathe, eat, and drink after all.

Does Dieter name his plants? I’m inclined to say that he names his favorites. All the others just have random nicknames that change based on their appearance. Like...the "thirsty dramatic bitch" that gets weepy and needs to be watered and turned in the sunlight daily.

Dieter’s Furry Squatter

And let the collective aww's be heard! 🤭

So, I pulled a few pics from Pinterest of what I envision Dieter's furry little visitor looks like. I see it as an adorably fluffy young Maine Coon kitty.

👉 Fun Fact: "The name 'Maine Coon' was adopted after the state of the breed's origin, Maine, and after the early belief that the cat was in fact the result of crossing between domestic breeds and raccoons." (from VioVet)

Funny story, I did not know that fact before choosing this breed. It looks like it was mean-to-be for our loveable trash panda. 😂

Now, I am sure you're asking; how does the cat relate to the plants? The cat serves the same purpose when we think about Dieter's relationships...or lack thereof.

Again, Dieter is craving companionship. He is still reluctant, but this little nugget will eventually become a loving companion for him. It's another avenue for him to create an emotional connection with something. He will learn how to care for the kitty and build a bond. Though the little menace can be a bit sassy, like the plants, it also doesn't judge Dieter by his past. What do you think Dieter should name it? I'm taking suggestions in the comments. 😉

In an odd way, the plants and cat do help Dieter grow as a person. It's baby steps in his personal growth journey. Honestly, as Katrina gets to know Dieter on a more personal level, these are two things that she absolutely loves about him, mostly because it's two things that are unexpected and show what a sweetheart he really is. She sees the good in him even if he can't see it himself.

That's it for your little extra bit of insight...until next time.

💜Mysty

Series Summary: Dieter Bravo, now sober, was looking to change his bad boy image after hitting rock bottom. His team hoped that having him join the nationally televised family friendly dance competition would be a good first step, if they can keep him out of trouble.

Katarina Stamos expected her last season as a professional dancer on Dancing with the Stars to go the same as it had for the past thirteen seasons. That all changed when she was partnered with the infamous Dieter Bravo.

Dieter and Katarina are reluctantly thrown into their partnership and must learn to work together to succeed in the competition. In the process they form a deeper connection beyond the dance floor that neither anticipated.

👉 Warnings: Themes dealing with intimate partner violence, alcohol abuse, and drug abuse. There will be fluff, tears, spicy language, and smut. This will be a slow burn. Read at your own risk. Dieter Bravo comes with his own warnings.

Closed Position Taglist: @secretelephanttattoo @titlee78 @maggiemayhemnj @legendary-pink-dot @morallyinept @survivingandenduring @wannab-urs @harriedandharassed @hisandsnakes @misstokyo7love @readingiskeepingmegoing @runningmom94 @sin-djarin @cakipy-blog @missladym1981 @guelyury @weho2kcmo @alokaerza @girlofchaos @trulybetty @rhoorl @bitchwitch1981 @madnessofadaydreamer @darkheartgatita @jazzloveslatte @timpletance @musings-of-a-rose @samiamproductions @myloveistoolittle @for-a-longlongtime @copperhalfcent @auteurdelabre @drewharrisonwriter @burntheedges @stevie75 @bunniboo0015 @quicax3 @jackie923 @sherala007 @pastelnap

*If your blog name is marked out, it would not let me tag you. You will need to change your visibility settings for that to work going forward.

#dieter bravo #dieter bravo fic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfic #dancing dieter #plant dad dieter #closed position extra #closed position series

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