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Listening to Danny Gonzales, laughing over terrible memes, the usual Wednesday

Morgan: If I make you laugh, can I get a kiss?

Y/n: Of course

Morgan: There was a-

Y/n: HAHAHAHAHAHAHA

"I'd stay away from Fenton if I were you"

hi, if anyone thought I was MIA im srry my computer decided to die on me.

Anyways I have a mini prompt.....

Imagine Danny's just straight up vibing at collage, he has a part time job his doing a degree in aerospace and biology, so he can become an astronauts. (He has fact checked he technically falls under the meta acts, so legally he's allowed to become an astronaut if he so wishes). Anyways back to the point. Danny has 2 difficult majors where he has a bunch of labs to run and multiple test and exams to take and the part time job. I think that with that much stress pilling up and on top of that having to prepare for his parents coming to his university to check on him. Danny is stressed and he isn't being an academic weapon he's more of an academic victim.

So when a vigilante and a freaking clown (as bitch) of a villain barge into his class room where he is currently taking his midterms worth 30% of his overall grade. Danny goes ballistic, I mean ape shit. On both of them he spares nothing pummeling them into the ground until they promise not to do anything until he finishes his exam.

Danny was given 10 points extra credit, and his professor gave him an extension for every assignment. Now every time he's on campus people just go up to him and shake his hand or just admire him.

His parents are just telling him how his following their footsteps when they finally visit. And it would be good and all because he's parents are A grade geniuses, but they're also supervillains. More importantly renowned supervillains. (think of Doofenshmirtz, but family).

-------

the collage students: *if we treat him with respect he might spare us when he eventually turns*

Professor: *Im not going to be held responsible for creating the next Fenton villain*

Consider Danny Phantom Phandom…

We all know of cowboy Danny from the wonderful @the-stove-is-on-fire

Take that.

Crossover with Stardew Valley.

Aunt Alicia has a deed to land in this far off country town she has never heard of. She got it from her father or from a cousin, or maybe she just found it one day via ghostly intervention (looking at a certain clock themed ghost).

Danny gets this deed from his aunt in some way. Be it via her giving it to him as he seems the most likely of her sisters kids to actually be interested in such a thing (jasmine seems too much like a city kid) as a gift during a visit. Or if something terrible happened at home, and seeing very little places to go, his brain lands on his aunt that lives in the middle of nowhere and goes to her. In which she tells him of the land and if he is in as much trouble as he says he is, this this place could essentially be a new start.

Essentially, Danny ends up at Stardew valley after needing to get off the grid. He’s essentially a Cryptid of the town, owning the overgrown and monster infested lands to the west of town, showing up in town to buy supplies or get to the beach, and generally doesn’t interact much with the townspeople other than if he needs supplies or needs anything built.

That is until one night Sebastian brings over leftover material from Danny’s last order that his mom had asked him to give back. He finds himself surrounded by monsters that usually stick to the mines before he gets to the house, and then witnesses Danny beat the living shit out of them without a sweat and then accepting the material with a soft, ‘thanks.’

As a small town, the rumours run fast and wild.

More of the townspeople begin to start conversations with this soft spoken farmer, tales of him being strong enough to take on armies of skeletons spread, and soon the entire town is attached to this strange boy who stalks through the town at the late hours of morning with flashing eyes and soft steps.

Maybe angst happens where the GIW show up or even his parents and spills about his half ghost biology. Only for the town to get out pitch forks and run them off.

Also farmer Danny aesthetic with so many void chickens. Endless void chickens.

I’ve been watching a lot of Game grumps lately and it inspired me to draw more Kirbies as well as a lovely Not-So-Grump!

Ayeeeee! Guess who just got a new tablet as an early birthday present? This girl! And boy is it awesome!

So, to celebrate this fact, I decided to do a quick Bobbi doodle!

Anyways, I hope you guys like this! Have a good day and peace out!

Going Ghost

Here’s to celebrating the 20th anniversary on my own because none of my friends watch Danny Phantom! 😼 (Jk I love my friends, they are still my pookies)

Since we all know Danny has terrible grades this is what he’s really doing in class

Sorry for the bad lighting and the poor quality drawings (I tried 👍)

for the doodle requests: maybe james (sirius) and albus?

it's hard to talk about some stuff sometimes </3

sleepover

he has the looks of a depressed english professor and the soul of a whore.

That’s one badass stapler - Five

🍕🐶🔱🎡Dude has came a long way!🎡🔱🐶🍕

Engadget

MS Paint just got two killer features for a '90s graphics editor

Microsoft has announced new features coming to its Paint app. The new features are currently available for Microsoft Insiders and will likel

MS paint is getting layers and transparency support. This is the single greatest art news of my life.

this website is free

Saw an op-ed that was on the surface a complaint about kids not wanting to take on family heirlooms but read like an elegy to dying traditions. The hardest part was the anxiety without recognizing that they didn’t pave the way for the decisions they assumed their kids would make.

(This is written entirely within the dominant white/western culture - about traditions that have neglectful stewardship rather than those actively suppressed)

The anxiety makes sense. You’re seeing, too late to do anything about it, that there’s no foundation - no space - for the traditions you expected to pass on. Your kids _can’t_ take your mom’s fine china. So now instead of enjoying what you have you worry about its future.

I see a pattern in these op-eds though - a pattern in what’s left unsaid. There were responsibilities tied to these traditions. You collectively assumed they _would_ be passed along. So collectively, what did you do to ensure those traditions _could_ be passed along?

Op-eds never speak for everyone, but it’s worth acknowledging the pattern in what speech is deemed worth sharing widely.  And in this particular pattern, there’s an answer: that answer looks like “nothing.”

You want the china passed down but your kids have no room in their rentals. You want grandkids but your kids don’t have the financial stability. You want that cross-country RV neverending road trip but you’ve had decades of wanting lower taxes more than you wanted infrastructure.

The bleak outlook for traditions is a direct result of the unmaintained foundations for them. The second best time is always now - if it’s important enough to op-ed about, what are you willing to change to get it back? What will you give up or re-prioritize?

I kinda think that world-defining assumptions are always gonna break without maintenance. So rather than getting mad at whoever’s next for not carrying on the norms we didn’t do upkeep on, when it’s my turn, I hope I’m introspective enough to help instead of externalize & blame.

the establishment fears this.

dead or alive. | vampire!mammon x f!reader | dark, 18+

setting: vampire / royalty au

warnings: dom!mammon, sub!reader, dark content, blood, vampire stuff (including feeding), predator/prey, lite dubcon, nicknames (kitten, princess, sir), fingering, biting, marking, breast/nipple play, orgasm on command, strong language

a/n: i rise from the dead (hehe, get it?) to bring you vampire!mammon brainrot. enjoy, cuties! xoxo, gossip girl haley

You didn't know what it was, but there was something inhumanly pretty about Mammon. From his iridescent white hair to his long, graceful fingers, he was the kind of beautiful that should only exist in a Renaissance painting.

The duke's good looks might have intimidated you if you had not already been infected by his easy confidence and rakish grin. Mammon had a nonchalant, almost lazy self-assurance -- as if he knew he could charm masses without even trying.

Across the ballroom, you watched as he threw back his head and laughed, sharp canines glittering in the light of the chandelier. You liked the way he didn't do anything halfway, whether it was betting on a losing poker hand or enjoying a companion's mediocre joke.

The ball flew by quickly; you spent most of the night admiring Mammon from afar. If you had been braver, you might have dared to introduce yourself to him, maybe even sent him a message through one of the royal pages.

But deep down, you knew that a man like that would never give you the time of day. The castle was teeming with stunning women, each of them with titles, land, and a handsome fortune. Why would someone so intoxicatingly beautiful stoop for someone like you?

You were half-human, the worst thing you could be in a kingdom ruled by the supernatural elite. Because of your human half, you were mortal -- and because you were mortal, your life was expendable. To the fantastical beings who dominated the Devildom's social hierarchy (vampires, demons, shapeshifters) you were a beloved pet at best... and a disposable plaything at worst.

Had your father not been immortal, and a close friend of the Demon King's, you would never have been accepted into high society. Had he not fallen in love with a human woman, you might have stood on equal footing with the Prince's other guests. But your father's taste for the forbidden was regarded as the highest form of scandal -- and more importantly, the impurity of your blood rendered you ineligible for the royal title that might have otherwise been your birthright.

By the time Lord Diavolo's guests had begun to scatter, you had resigned yourself to the fact that you would never see Duke Mammon again. Despite the many happy conversations you'd had that night, you were certain that none of your new acquaintances would give you the time of day when they realized you were from that bloodline.

As the party wound down, you gathered your skirts and made your way to the east wing, where all of the Prince's personal guests had their own quarters. You had stayed in the ballroom as long as you could, soaking in as much of the finery as possible before the illusion of perfection was shattered.

You weren't expecting to run into anyone when you turned in for the night, as most of the other guests had long gone. But run into him, you didn't: Mammon moved with the inhuman speed and grace of the predator he was.

You felt him before you saw him, the hairs on your arms standing up straight as his warm breath tickled the nape of your neck. His hands were ice-cold, your muscles rigid, as he gently swept your hair to one side.

Mammon pressed his nose to your bare shoulder, deliberately inhaling your scent. A devilish smile crossed his lips as he pulled away.

"Human," he declared triumphantly. "I knew it."

"Only half," you replied coolly.

"I could smell ya from across the room, ya know. Making me starve." Mammon's breath hitched like he was anticipating his favorite meal.

Your entire body tensed at his words. Mammon may have intoxicated you from afar, but you were under no illusion that his good looks made him any less of a dangerous predator.

"What was a pretty girl like you thinking, coming here tonight? This place is full of people looking to turn you into their dessert."

"My dear friend the Demon Prince never would have invited me to his castle if he didn't think I could take care of myself," you deadpanned.

"'Dear friend,' huh?" he repeated incredulously. "If Lord Diavolo really cared about ya, he should have realized he was sending a kitten into a room full of lions."

Slowly, deliberately, Mammon turned to face you. His grin spread even wider, revealing the sharp points of his fangs, as he trailed a single finger down the hollow of your throat.

"Poor little human... ya didn't think you were gonna make it outta here alive, didja?"

You stared back, unblinking. "I know I will."

Mammon laughed, the musical sound echoing against the vaulted ceilings.

"Good." He stepped forward, forcing you to step back -- until your back lay flush against the wall. "I like my food with a little fight left."

Mammon placed one hand against the wall on either side of you, locking you firmly in his sights. His knee pressed into your plush thighs, ensnaring you in his trap.

Your heart thudded intensely as he leaned toward you, looking as if he was going to bite. But as you were closing your eyes and bracing for impact, Mammon froze, his breath still warming your skin as he took another deep inhale.

"Ya really are dumb, aren't ya? Even for a human." His lips curled upward in a smirk as he gazed at you, his eyes glowing ruby from beneath long, elegant lashes. "Don't tell me ya like this."

"Half-human," you corrected defiantly. "And I don't know what you're talking about."

Mammon's voice took on a dusky tone as he murmured, "You're wet for me. I can smell it on ya."

Your cheeks burned as he uttered the words. Knowing Mammon would accept your silence as compliance, you yearned to say something snarky back, but you couldn't will your lips to move.

His laughter was softer now, gentler, as he chuckled into your ear. "Mmm, I like it when ya blush like that. Makes ya look even more... appetizing."

Punctuating the adjective, Mammon's lips brushed the side of your neck, right against the pulsing jugular vein. Had you been in your right mind, you might have been impressed with his astonishing self-control -- but in that moment, your thoughts were completely blank.

Mammon tutted against your neck, sending pleasant vibrations down your spine. "Stupid human. What's the point of hunting if ya aren't even going to struggle?"

He parted his lips just widely enough to gently scrape his fangs against your delicate skin, pressing down enough to leave a mark but not quite enough to draw blood. You could feel your self-control slipping away as your entire body shuddered, the pool between your aching thighs growing harder to ignore with every gentle nip.

Yet somehow, even as your composure melted away, you could sense the impressive restraint with which Mammon comported himself. He grew bolder with each trail he drew across your skin, as if he was testing his limits in resisting your blood.

Suddenly, Mammon pulled away. His eyes glittered with mischief, your breath shaking as you met his hungry gaze.

"Fine," he said teasingly. "Ya wanna play, human? Let's play."

"Don't they say you shouldn't play with your food?" you retorted sarcastically.

"Do they?" Mammon chuckled. "Good thing I've decided not to eat ya then."

"Is that so?" you exhaled, barely hiding your sense of relief.

"Mmm." Hands roughly wrapping around your wrist, Mammon jerked you closer to him, holding your body flush against his. "I've got... other things in mind."

Your heart skipped a beat as you uttered breathlessly, "Like what?"

Mammon flashed a boyish grin. "Hold on tight and I'll show ya."

Hesitantly, you untangled yourself from Mammon, enough that you could grasp his upper arms. Though his skin felt cold and smooth, almost like marble, his muscles still had a surprisingly human give to them. Guessing what was about to come next, you buried your face in his chest, bracing for impact.

For the briefest of seconds, you were barreled with all the force of a wind tunnel, hair blowing wildly. The next thing you knew, his superhuman speed had carried you to a dim, candlelit room -- somewhere, you assumed, in the Demon Lord's castle.

Perched on his forearms, Mammon hovered over you on the four-poster bed, purple satin canopy billowing around you like a storm cloud.

"Is this what you had in mind?" you teased. "A good night's sleep?"

Mammon smiled again, fangs glinting menacingly in the candlelight. "Kitten, I haven't slept in more than 200 years. I'm sure as hell not about to start now."

Your heart fluttered in anticipation of his next move. Nervously, you blabbered, "If vampires don't sleep, then what do you do all night?"

Cheekily, Mammon leaned toward your ear and whispered, "Want me to show ya?"

He slid a firm, yet gentle hand up your skirts, caressing your inner leg. Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment at the involuntary squeak that escaped your lips.

"Aw, kitten," Mammon cooed, fingertips toying with the lace hem of your stockings. "I'm barely even touching ya."

You gasped as he nipped at the delicate skin of your throat, pushing the sheer fabric away from your plush thighs.

Slowly, deliberately, Mammon slid off each of your shoes, each stocking quickly following suit. He grinned and shook his head as your body twitched eagerly beneath his long, slender fingers.

"Pathetic little human," Mammon murmured to himself. "So eager. Yer practically begging to be touched."

Before you could utter a word in your defense, he repositioned you both with super speed. Now, Mammon sat perched behind you with his back against the wall, strong hands firmly gripping the sides of your waist.

Grateful you were facing away from him, so as to hide your burning cheeks, you barely managed to swallow a moan as Mammon's hands slid up your back. His breath was surprisingly warm against the nape of your neck as he deftly unlaced the bodice of your gown.

Mammon's palms seductively grazed the tops of your breasts as he carefully slid the dress away from your skin, leaving you scantily clad in just your corset and underskirt. While his touch was as cold as ice, every brush of his fingertips against your bare skin left you burning with desire.

You shivered as he bent to whisper in your ear: "I hope ya taste as good as ya smell."

His palm glided up your leg, carrying the hem of your skirts with it. Your breath shook as he ran a single finger between your folds, dragging the slick from your entrance up to your clit.

A long string of liquid arousal clung to his fingertip, connecting you to his touch even as he pulled away. Greedily, Mammon sucked it clean of your juices, a haze of fervor crossing his glowing ruby eyes as he tasted you for the first time.

Emitting a soft moan, Mammon's eyes fluttered closed for the briefest of seconds. You trembled in anticipation as he swallowed, the fire between your legs aching to be stoked by his nimble fingers.

"Such a sweet little cunt." One of Mammon's hands wandered absentmindedly down your belly, the other untangling the stays of your corset, as he groaned in pleasure. "If yer blood tastes anything like it, I'm not gonna be able to stop."

You knew you should be afraid; that his words were anything but an empty threat -- but every cell in your body ached for his touch, so much so that you couldn't quite bring yourself to be afraid of him. Mammon may have been the world's most dangerous predator, but you were thoroughly resigned to the thrill of being his prey.

The duke could suck you dry at any given moment, and you hardly cared. As long as they were his fangs pressed against your jugular, you would gladly give yourself over as his meal.

Whether or not he intended to feed on you, one thing was obvious: Mammon was intent on savoring every bite. The moment your chest sprung free from its corset, he bent for a taste. Peeling the herringbone away from your skin, Mammon nibbled his way from your collarbone down to your breast. The points of his fangs barely grazed the nipple as his tongue swirled around each areola, leaving you dizzy with lust.

Tossing the corset aside, Mammon slipped his free hand between your folds. The nails of his other hand dug sharply into your hipbone, holding you firmly in place as you squirmed beneath his caresses. You couldn't help but allow your legs to fall open as he began to circle your clit with two fingers, his pace perfectly matching the rhythm of his mouth suckling on your breast.

Gradually, Mammon increased the speed and tempo with which his fingers circled your clit. With each of your breathless gasps and moans, he hummed in satisfaction, sending pleasant shivers down your spine.

Releasing your nipple with a gentle pop, Mammon's lips were already red and swollen as he pressed them against yours for the first time. You were acutely aware of your face growing hotter with each of his sloppy, wet kisses, your bare body lying vulnerable in his fully clothed arms.

As your climax urged near, you dug your fingernails into his thighs, gripping them for leverage. Mammon chuckled into your mouth, pulling away just long enough to tease you between kisses: "So wet... so eager... Yer body's just begging to cum for me, isn't it, princess?"

Involuntarily, you let out a high-pitched whine in response. Mammon laughed again, cruelly tightening his grip on your hips as you struggled to stop yourself from bucking beneath his ministrations.

Both your hands wrapped around his wrist, trying to no avail to slow his caresses. With a sly grin, Mammon flipped you onto your back, using his free hand to pin both your wrists overhead as he bent to nibble on your ear.

"So close...you're gonna make me cum," you babbled senselessly. "Wanna cum for you so badly, Mammon, please."

"Please, sir," Mammon corrected you humorlessly.

"Please, sir," you repeated, eyes wide and vulnerable. "Can I cum?"

Your desperate tone broke him. Unable to resist you any longer, Mammon snarled, bending to position himself over your pulsing jugular vein.

"Cum for me," he commanded, his voice reduced to a husky growl.

Your eyelashes fluttered shut, eyelids growing heavy, as you gave yourself over to your orgasm. His fingertips danced lightly across your clit, your entrance gushing with every contraction, as his fangs finally broke the skin of your neck.

Mammon inhaled you, your body shuddering deeply with every gulp he took of your blood. The two of you moaned together in sheer, animalistic pleasure at the symphony of sensations overwhelming you both -- until he suddenly pulled away, averting his gaze and breathing heavily.

Mammon stared down at you, blood dripping from his fangs (your blood), with a wide-eyed mixture of horror and lust. You held his gaze the whole time -- but dizzy from the combination of afterglow and blood loss, you were unable to decipher what he could be thinking.

As your climax faded away, you became increasingly aware of the sharp stinging sensation on your neck. Your hand flew to the bite wound, expecting it to be dripping with blood. Yet when you checked it, your fingers came away clean. In fact, somehow, the wound was already healing.

Regaining your senses, it began to hit you just how close you had brought yourself to the brink of death. While the pleasure of an orgasm mixed with the intimacy of feeding was unlike anything you had ever experienced before, you realized just how lucky you were that Mammon hadn't drained your corpse completely dry.

Blinking in disbelief, you began to blabber: "B-but...you could have killed me. Why didn't you?"

Mammon grinned, somehow looking both relieved and self-righteous, as he reached up to clean his face. Your blood stained his shirt crimson as he wiped his mouth on his sleeve, forever marking the crisp white fabric with dark red lip prints.

"Because, kitten," he chuckled darkly, lowering himself onto his forearms again. "No matter how good ya taste... I definitely like ya better alive."