#AU: this might as well happen

[thexgrayxlady]

I love the idea of Kisara becoming an ecologist, if only because her eccentricities would be right at home in any university's biology department.

[noodles-and-tea]

For the twins in time AU, I genuinely wonder what kind of people the young twins grow up into because of Stan’s/Ford’s influence. Especially if it takes years for the portal to get fixed.

(Sorry if it seems like I already sent this question, I don’t know if it got sent the first time I asked)

I haven’t fully fleshed out how Ford grows up in the past but I do have thoughts on Stan presently

[ew-selfish-art]

Dpxdc Au - Tim and Danny are Twins, have been through all the introductions and after a few years decide to have The Audacity. 

At some point it hits the two of them, that they really do act alike sometimes. Like, mannerisms and small detail micro expressions, the whole nine, so Danny and Tim decide to take advantage of this.

Parent trap style swapping but all within the same household, they cut their hair and swap clothes, and get in a few practice runs around the halls of Wayne Manor. No one in the family catches them through at least 3 family dinners, so they go for the larger gambit. 

Tim wants to go to high school for a bit and get back into skate boarding with low stakes- Thats what he tells Danny at least, he really wants to spend the time dismantling the GIW from the epicenter in Amity Park. It works out that Tim accomplishes this in record time (explosives didn’t require ethics in his opinion) and does actually get to enjoy his hobbies again for a bit. 

Danny wants to tell off the WE board members and get some proper Red Robin training so he’s not so dependent on his powers when facing human enemies (they were squishier than ghosts, restraint was key)- That’s what he tells Tim when the reality is he’s going to lead a hostile takeover of DalvCo. and well, yeah, actually get some training in. 

No one catches on except for Kon. 

After they’ve swapped back and their missions are debriefed, Tim asks him why he never fell for it? Simply put: “Uh, dude. Your twin doesn’t have a heartbeat half the time, it was pretty easy to tell.” 

[jkpng]

drummer jungkook (2/4)

[iizuumi]

Side effects of wearing your Kaiju suit too often ,,,, Part 2

[versias]

A Haunt is Where the Heart Is

The first time Bruce encountered Phantom, he was bleeding from a stab wound to the side that had missed both vital organs and armor.

“That looks bad.” The voice was quiet, barely more than a whisper.

The shape was barely more than an outline of a person; for a moment, Bruce worried he’d been dosed with some kind of hallucinogenic in the knife. It looked around before it shifted more into the visual range. At the same time, it drifted closer.

“Stop,” Batman growled. Then demanded: “Who are you.”

They became more and more real, and he could now see the fine-boned facial features, the grown-out hair in a shocking white, and glowing green eyes. White lashes swept down as it (they?) blinked, answering, “Phantom.”

“Is that ‘who’ or ‘what’?”

They smiled, a mischievous little light dancing in their eyes. “Bit of both, actually.”

“My wound isn’t bad enough to kill me,” Batman denied.

The being giggled, a noise that sounded like twinkling stars and made something squirm in his chest.

“I’m not a psychopomp, dude. Just trying to offer some help. I like to keep people in the world of the living.”

They knelt down, setting their gaze level with the injury, giving him the choice of accepting or not.

Tilting their head back to look up into his face, they said, “Let me help?”

He wasn’t so hurt that he couldn’t get back to the cave. But the mystery of the being was enough to keep him in the alley, stepping closer. He needed more data.

(It had nothing to do with the image of a beautiful person on their knees for him, though he might think about it later. Maybe.)

———

The next time they crossed paths, Phantom’s hair was longer. It floated freely, drifting in some ethereal wind as the being floated, parallel to the ledge.

Bruce let his boot scrape the gravel as he approached.

Phantom didn’t look. Their eyes were fixed on the sky. The blackout had coincided with a break in the perpetual cloud cover. A glittering blanket shone above and Phantom sparkled in the starlight like they were one of the stars. They were glowing the brightest they’d ever been.

“I never thought I’d get to see the stars here.” They breathed. Awe colored their voice.

Bruce glanced up. It was beautiful, but he had to admit that he preferred the shining lights of the city. Gotham was a city of shadows; without the light, the shadows didn’t dance.

He didn’t say that, though. Not when Phantom’s ecstasy was so obvious. It made him want to see the sky the way the ghost did.

“Did you come up here just to hang out with me?”

Batman grunted. “What do you know about the Park Row murders?”

There were always murders in Crime Alley, but the string of brutal killings had the hallmarks of a new serial killer.

Phantom gave him a Look.

“Want me to ask the victims? Or are you assuming all ghosts know each other, Batman?”

Batman leveled an unimpressed look at them.

“Ugh, how’d you even know I was looking into it?”

Characteristic snow pattern in security camera footage.

“I’m Batman.”

“Yeah, whatever,” they waved a lazy hand like a king dismissing their court. “I haven’t learned much. The shades of ghastly deaths like that aren’t very coherent. I can stabilize them a little, but I don’t like to do that—it prolongs their suffering, you know? Mostly, I’m just trying to help them cross over. Everything I hear is incidental.”

“Anything could help.”

Phantom tells him what they’ve heard. It is scattered and some of it might be the final delusions of the dying, but he appreciates it nonetheless. Centering the victims in his mind helps him. It also helps to hear that Phantom helped them reach some kind of peace.

“Thought you weren’t a psychopomp.”

Phantom blew a raspberry at him.

Bruce suppressed a smirk.

———

Adrenaline was still pumping through him when Phantom swept back into the room, the casing of a bomb held in one hand and the actual explosive material in the other. Just in time; Batman had finished laying out the private security hired to keep them out.

“Figured I’d just make it so the bomb couldn’t, you know, explode.”

The sound he made was an approving hum, reverberating in his chest as he stepped closer to the ghost. Normally, the cold wafting off Phantom helped bring him down when the action was over. But Phantom looked up at him through their long white lashes, playful as always. It hit his gut like a physical blow.

Something of what he was feeling must have shown on his face, because Phantom’s green eyes widened in surprise. Bruce swallowed the immediate anxiety, the fear of being known, and let himself reach for Phantom. They caught his hand and entwined their fingers.

“Got somewhere to put explosives?” They whispered.

“I do,” he rumbled.

“Do I get to come with you?” Excitement made their eyes sparkle.

No, I get to come with you.

———

The Batcave does have somewhere for explosives, but unfortunately there wasn’t a comfortable place for the other reason Bruce brought Phantom back with him. He considered bringing them up to his bedroom, then dismissed the thought. He was thinking with his dick, not his head. No revealing secrets while high on adrenaline and drowning in a beautiful person.

Thankfully, Phantom didn’t seem to mind when he sat at the chair before the computer and pulled them into his lap. The first press of lips to his own made him shiver. He opened his mouth and accepted the cool, slick tongue. The contrast between his own hot mouth made Phantom moan, something between pain and pleasure.

Bruce pressed his forehead against theirs.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he murmured.

“I don’t mind,” they said. “It doesn’t hurt much; it’s just like stepping into a hot bath. And I don’t mind a little roughness.”

“You know, it occurs to me I never asked… what should I call you? I mean, pronouns-wise.”

Phantom threw their head back and laughed. Bruce resisted the urge to nip at the exposed throat.

“I use he, usually,” he said. “And please call me Danny. You?”

Bruce swallowed, looking for the right words, but Danny was quick to reassure, “No need to share your name, man. I’m in the enviable position of not having a life to disrupt if my secret identity is discovered. I’m not gonna scream ‘Batman’ though. He/him for you? Is ‘B’ okay?”

Relief. “It is. It’s perfect.”

Then he considered the rest of what he’d said. Not having a life, but didn’t deny a secret identity. Interesting. But not relevant, at the moment.

“So you’re a screamer?” His hands drifted down Phantom’s sides and around his thighs.

Phantom snickered, “Maybe. You know, if you can make me.”

It wouldn’t be easy to keep up with undead vigor, but he couldn’t back down from a challenge like that.

Bruce vowed to make him hoarse.

———

They slept together many more times after that. Phantom did get to see his bedroom and met Alfred (who referred to Danny endearingly as ‘Master Bruce’s young man’). Bruce made sure Danny knew he had somewhere safe to return to when he needed it.

He didn’t let it go further. Partly, it was about Batman. Working together once or twice was alright, but Batman couldn’t afford to have a partner. How could he ask Danny to shoulder Gotham’s darkness with him? Force him to watch Bruce throw himself into danger every night on an impossible quest?

He was already breaking Alfred’s heart. He couldn’t do the same thing to someone else. He loved Danny too much to do it to him.

God, Bruce loved Danny Phantom.

Bruce loved the way Phantom curled around him in sleep. Loved the way he arched his back and cried when he was close to orgasm. Loved how he floated a bit when he talked about space. Loved how he could always tell what Bruce needed to say, even when it got mangled between his brain and mouth.

Yet.

Phantom wasn’t… alive. Not in the way Bruce was, at least. It didn’t seem fair to ask him to stay, to spend the rest of Bruce’s life tied to him. It wasn’t like they could grow old together. Bruce would age and Phantom wouldn’t, frozen in death. Whatever power allowed him to manifest in the physical realm shouldn’t be wasted on something so… domestic as a boyfriend. A husband.

Bruce loved Danny. He nestled somewhere in his heart, fluttering against his pulse. He could keep him there without chaining him to his side. It was enough.

It had to be.

———

Danny told him he needed to attend to his duties in the Infinite Realms. He looked resigned.

“When will you be back?”

“I don’t know. Time gets weird in the Zone. I’ll come back, though. Promise.”

Danny kissed him goodbye.

Bruce tried to tell himself it wouldn’t be forever.

It felt like a lie.

———

Bruce found Dick Grayson. He tucked him under his wing. Held on too tight and pushed him away.

———

Bruce found Jason. Failed him, again and again.

———

Tim found Bruce. He didn’t deserve him, but he wasn’t leaving. It ached.

———

Bruce’s family grew, children and cousins alike gathering under the banner of the Bat. Sometimes it felt right, to stand with them and fight for a better future. Sometimes Bruce felt like he was losing his mind, losing his grip on the situation and reality. He watched his children get hurt and get back up and get knocked down again. Sometimes, it was like seeing himself. Sometimes it was alien and horrible, and he was trapped in a nightmare.

He had lovers. Women, mostly. Selina, who came and went like an alley cat, disappearing whenever she pleased.

Talia, deadly and divine in equal measure, with a touch of death about her.

He didn’t need Alfred’s knowing glances to pick up the common thread, thank you.

He was pining, not in denial.

———

Damian showed up on his doorstep, haughty and whole and real. His flesh and blood, ten years old. This was the first time he’d ever even heard of Talia having a child.

What the fuck.

———

Jason came back from the dead, dripping with rage.

Bruce wished Danny was here. He’d know what to do. He always did.

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

years later someone buys the plot, turns on the lights and is suddenly worshipped as a sun god by a bunch of puppets falling apart at the seams

pov you break into the spooky abandoned Playfellow Studios building for shits and giggles

[thekittyokat]

you ever just have a lot, a LOT of feelings all at once about a character and not even remotely enough words or brainpower to FORM the words to describe everything you're feeling. so it feels like you may explode. yeah

[lovesickeros]

☆ love; heretical and divine

{☆} characters tsaritsa {☆} notes cult au, yandere, drabble, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings blood {☆} word count 0.8k

To love a God is heretical. It is an act of blasphemy– it is to drag them down from their throne of hollow gold, to topple the pedestal the worshipers uphold on their shoulders like lambs at the herders heel. It is the act of forcing them to their knees and ripping that beating heart of glorious gold and beautiful, cruel divinity from their chest, so pure it burns.

To love a God is to make them sin. To make them painfully, horribly human.

To love a God is to sin.

The love of a worshiper is no love at all, brilliant in its raw purity, untainted by sin. It is fear and obedience masked by adoration so overpowering it corrupts. It makes the lamb so unquestioning in it's faith it will never question the knife that cuts, the teeth that rip, the claws that tear. If the Creator deemed them unworthy of the very life crafted by their hands, then they must have committed a sin so grave there lay no salvation for their horrid soul.

But she is no worshiper– her lips speak of heresy as easily as she breathes, her words nothing but lies, cold and cruel like the ice that crawls along her skin like webs.

She loves a God like a lover should.

A damned sinner reaching longingly for the heavens.

She loves a God in the subtle brush of their lips, their muffled voices behind closed doors as they indulge in curiosity untamed. She is a sinner through and through, but she feels herself fall further with every brush of her hand across their cheeks, every touch she bestows upon them like a lover. She memorizes the imperfections of their body like memorizing a map– every scar, every mark, every line drawn on their body like a canvas, her touch the brush that stains the pristine white.

No devoted lamb shall ever see the painting they create in these stolen moments– it is for the eyes of a heretic so vile it makes them shudder, their body dirtied by the love of a woman so vile even their divinity is obscured by the ice.

The lambs may be satisfied with fleeting glimpses of gold and empty words from lips that guide them to the jaws of the wolves, but she is not. Her hands crave them like a starving hound, aching to touch that imperfect skin hidden by the veil of gold that obscures the painfully human body beneath. She longs to free them from the golden cage that binds them– to see their wings blot out the sky, their divinity tainted by sin and making them all the more beautiful for it.

It is a longing that leaves a festering wound that cannot heal, will not heal. Even if it could, she would not let it.

For as much as she tries, deny it as she may, she is no better then the blind lambs following the herder who holds a blade in their hand, glittering like gold in the sun, stained by dull red.

She is a fool, and what a fool they make of her with the touch of their hands against her skin– so cold it leaves frost on their fingertips. Yet they do not fear the cold, mapping out every inch of her imperfections, carved into her body by her own hands.

She has always been a heretic, cursing the divine until she could speak no more, but if divinity can be found in them – in this love that consumes, that burns her hands and her lips – then she is a Saint, praying at the altar until her throat bled.

But in the end, she has and will always be a cold woman with hands stained with blood. Until it is all she can taste, until it is all she can smell, until it is all she can feel. These hands of hers, heretical and divine, will bleed the God from their veins– she will become the wolf to their lamb until the rivers of Teyvat run gold with their ichor, until the gold bleeds into red, the taste of their divinity on her tongue.

Until she drags a God from their lofty throne and makes of them a monster.

There is no greater triumph to the heretic then to love a God into sin. To make a God sin to love.

To love is to be human, and they are no God.

Even if she must tear the gold from their very being until all that's left is something human. Even if Teyvat crumbles and decays, even if it begins over and over again..

She will do it again and again, until the gold can bleed no longer. Until her sins grow too great for Teyvat to contain.

To love a God is to devour, and be devoured. An endless cycle of sin that dulls the glow of gold into something new– something horrifying and divine, in it's own right. Something just as horrid as her, just as divinely corrupted by the sins she carries on her shoulders like a trophy, as gold as the sun and as cold as ice.

Divinity, carved into something human by love all consuming, until it all bleeds away and they begin their dance anew, for as many cycles as it takes.

An eternity, if she must, of dooming this world of theirs to fire and decay for a glimpse of the being snared by their golden shackles.

[egginfroggin]

Buried Treasure in the Sand, the Lynari Desert

"We once met a man who said he dreamed of finding a great treasure buried in the desert. "Everyone burst into laughter, and told him there was no such thing. "But the moment I saw this place, I felt his dream would surely come true. "The desert glittered like a sea of jewels under that shimmering sun."

~ Opening narration, the Lynari Desert

Talking under the cut:

So this took a while! It would have been up sooner, most likely, but Kirby decided to rot my brain for a while.

This is for my Pokemon/FFCC AU, and is part of what could be considered the main story, following Akari and Rei (or Dawn and Lucas). Return to Sender takes place in the same AU, though that mainly follows the train twins.

I learned a lot doing this, and although I know I could probably polish it more, I just want it to be done so that I don't lose motivation with the project and get discouraged. It's time for it to be finished, so it's finished -- not perfect, but as close as it will get.

Tried emulating the fancy script that they use for the dungeon names for the handwriting; it was tricky. Fun fact, I was so into FFCC when I was younger that I actually thought it'd be fun to absorb the script's fanciness into my own handwriting -- thus, my handwriting was once nigh illegible, but has settled to something halfway between cursive and print, still with some excessive swoopiness here and there.

It's never really stated who the narrator is referring to in the opening narration for the Lynari Desert, but I somehow always assumed that it was Hurdy/Gurdy. He would be the most likely to know of a "treasure" hidden in the desert, after all, though he might not remember why. Also, Gurdy is the one you learn the riddle from, so I guess I always just thought it was him.

Anyway, the man in question is Emmet this time around. What's he doing here? I'd love to tell you, but I'll let y'all ruminate on it because this is getting long and alas, I'm too tired to attempt much more coherent thought.

So, thank you all for reading! I am open to constructive criticism, especially about backgrounds and shading, as I consider myself to struggle with those.

Thank you very, very much, and I hope you all have a wonderful, blessed day! (ˊᗜˋ)/ᵗᑋᵃᐢᵏ ᵞᵒᵘ* <3

(program: krita; time taken: about 28 hours, cumulative)

[shih-coulda-had-it]

teenage menaces

wc: ~850; context: set a few months into the last year of Aldera, Toshinori baits Bakugou into a fist-fight and they got in trouble with admin. this was mostly me testing out whether or not I could write Bakugou without stepping into the bashing zone. izuku pov.

//

The three of them wait outside the classroom: Kacchan impatiently, Izuku anxiously, and Yagi cheerfully.

“Yagi-san, what if you get expelled?” Izuku hisses, weaving his fingers together to stop them from twitching.

“Then I’ll get homeschooled? Honestly, Midoriya-kun!” He laughs under his breath, grinning way too big for a boy who got in trouble for beating up the star pupil of Aldera. Kacchan—looks small, next to him. Small and furious, like he doesn’t know the right way to get Yagi to shut up and sit down. Izuku prays that Kacchan never finds out that Yagi is actually All Might. Something might really break.

“Shut the hell up,” Kacchan snarls. “I can’t hear what they’re saying.”

“Ah, if I know my old man…”

“I told you to shut up!”

“You don’t want to place a bet on it, Bakugou-shonen?”

“WHO ARE YOU CALLING ‘YOUNG’?!”

The door swings open to reveal a pale-faced principal and a deeply unimpressed Gran Torino. The latter is out of uniform, but the clean-cut fashion of the button-up and slacks does an effective job at communicating Torino’s professionalism. He swipes the end of his cane at Yagi’s ankle, and Yagi yelps and jumps in surprise.

“Who are you calling ‘old man’?” Torino snaps.

“Sorry,” Yagi says unapologetically. “What’s gonna happen, jii-san?”

“You’re suspended for three days,” the old man announces, and because Yagi looks delighted at not having to attend school, meaning Kacchan looks furious at this apparent light sentence, the principal valiantly steps in.

“You’ll obviously have assignments over this period, to reflect on your actions. And Bakugou-kun must have an apology made to him.”

“I don’t want his stupid apology!” Kacchan spits.

“Fujita-san,” says Torino, “I believe I told you what was going to happen. I’ll get the parents’ permission. They might even be happy about seeing their son in action, if the boy wants to be a hero. Just get me two teachers.”

“Torino-san, this is a deeply improper way to handle the situation—!”

“The entire way you’re running your school is improper,” he drawls. “Don’t worry, it’s not an issue unique to your administration. I know what I’m doing, and I know my boy. He won’t be the one hitting below the belt.”

Izuku connects the dots faster than either Kacchan or Yagi. He blurts out, “Are you having them fight?”, and two blond heads whip around to stare (or glare) him down, then back at each other. Yagi’s grin widens. 

Torino says mildly, “In martial arts classes, they call it a spar. Clears the head, knowing the hierarchy… of who’s better.”

The principal’s distress is palpable. “It’s not legal,” he protests.

“I’d win,” Kacchan declares, bristling. Izuku bites his tongue to stop himself from trying to intervene. This is not a fair fight that Torino is setting up; however Quirkless Yagi is, he hasn’t lost the experience of his time as All Might, and with all the training that Torino’s put them through, his muscle memory and reflexes are sharp. Just because Torino is promising to get parental and teacher supervision—god, it’s a whole trap. Kacchan can’t beat Yagi unless Yagi overestimates him. It would take a legitimate miracle for Yagi to lose.

“I don’t know, jii-san,” Yagi says playfully. “Isn’t that a little mean to Bakugou-kun? He won’t be able to use his Quirk in the fight.” Unlike today, his smile says. 

“You need a Quirk to punch someone down?” Torino responds, and he rolls his eyes at Yagi’s tone. “That’s when you cross into villain territory. No. This is going to be good old-fashioned fisticuffs.”

Does Kacchan sense it? He must. He’s never been an idiot. The way his eyes dart down to Torino, assessing, attempting to reassess the old man’s threat level, to so casually propose arranging a fight between two fifteen year olds—Kacchan knows the shape of the trap, then. It just depends on whether he believes he can win.

And Kacchan, Izuku knows, believes in winning.

“Midoriya-kun,” the principal suddenly says, and Izuku flinches at the sheer hope in the man’s tone. “You’ve known Bakugou-kun for a long time. Did he start the fight?” 

The weight of all their eyes is overwhelming. His loyalty is being torn two ways, and he doesn’t know who to save. If he stops this fight, and denies Kacchan the chance to show off his skills and heart, Kacchan will hate him. If he stops this fight, and affirms that Yagi threw the first punch, then—All Might won’t hate him. The wry twist to Yagi’s smile is basically a blessing to disavow his fellow Quirkless classmate.

But Izuku doesn’t want to disappoint All Might, or even Gran Torino.

He trembles, breathes shakily, and says, “Kacchan would never miss a fight he couldn’t win,” and in the time his audience takes to process, Izuku quite deliberately sides with Yagi. Not hiding. Standing elbow to elbow, in solidarity.

Kacchan’s face twists. “Deku,” he hisses.

“Focus, boy,” Torino says, and his cane clacks against the linoleum flooring. “Your fight’s with Toshinori. That is, if your parents agree to supervise.”

“What if they’re too busy?” 

“We’ll find a time.”

[uncleardyn]

(alan wake-gravity falls crossover) man i love that character. you know, the deeply paranoid author who made a pact with a dark entity that ultimately ended with him stranded in another dimension separated from his loved ones for years at a time? takes place in the pacific northwest? has twin imagery associated with him and a reoccurring specific piece of symbology related to the unfortunate situation they're in? doesn't ever explain the reasoning behind his actions and instead just kinda goes "bro trust me"? yeah he also wears an outer layer of clothing with elbow pads on it, that one.

[jessicas-pi]

Ben has kind of been having the worst day of his life, what with the dying and all.

It’s a marked improvement when he’s tramping through the forests of Takodana and a familiar voice demands, “Would you believe me if I told you Palpatine was my grandfather?”

He turns around.

Stares.

Rey stands ten feet away, her blaster pointed at him, a challenge in her eyes.

“Would you believe me if I told you Han Solo was my father?” he says, answering the question with a question.

“Yes,” she says, lowering the blaster.

“Well, that answers that,” he replies, turning off his lightsaber.

The silence stretches on.

Takodana is unpleasantly hot.

Why did he ever think wearing all-black was a suitable fashion choice?

Rey falters, apparently not having planned what to say if she got this far. “I suppose this is where we save the galaxy.”

“I suppose so,” he agrees. “To Exogol, then?”

“Have you got the Wayfinder already?” she asks, raising an eyebrow in surprise.

“Picked it up on the way here.”

“Ah. That simplifies things.” She holsters her blaster and sets off at a brisk pace, adding as she brushes past him: “And try not to die this time. It was so inconvenient.”

“You died first,” he mutters.

[jeeaark]

I DO like the idea of Greygold managing to 'speedrun' friendship. Though, I wonder how they're break the whole "New Game Plus" thing to the party?

If the team hasn't made a fuss about early-squid Greygold, or killing their 'doppelganger', or why they know so much, too much even, at any point, I think Greyg+ would just straight up tell them they're from an alternate reality/time-traveler and shouldn't be here. Given how everyone's been abducted by aliens and said spaceship has the ability to fly into hell, a space-and-time-travelling-gone-wrong companion doesn't seem too far-fetched as everyone else's crazy backstory.

but if they do make a fuss with everything prior to the truth, Grey+ ain't tell them jack. About to play their own version of 'mysterious weirdo with a secret' on the team.

[evilfarmin]

kitty cat time with meowmine and nyakashi :3 🐱🐱🐱😺😺🐱🐱😺

[teastarfall]

why do they call it little nightmares when i have big dreams about it