#I did not mean for this to be angst

[topaz-witch-tea]

hiii, it's me again, thanks for spoiling us with your HC & AU as always 💖 💗

Anyway, I was curious, do you have any HC of what if Happy Family!AU meets with semi-cannon verse of RenJingHeng (that's still trying to bond with Yanqing despite their ✨Issues✨)?

I imagine it would be double the chaos since now they have TWO reckless, self-sacrificial, and insecure teen to watch over. That, and I want the HCQ to react to a what-if versions of themselves lolz. This could either go very well, or they just straight up start criticizing e/o method of parenting, and I can't make up my mind of which is better.

Hello!!! You're welcome, I enjoy writing these headcanons. 🥰

I do have HCs for this!!! I constantly compare the semi-cannon with the AU so I can differentiate their personalities and parenting styles.

I'll group them by character to make it easier.

Dan Feng- Dan Heng

They do not get along and Dan Feng started it. Dan Feng is very protective and doting to Yanqing.

He worries for Yanqing's wellbeing constantly and in his eyes, Dan Heng is neglectful and both Yanqing's should come home with him. Dan Heng's aloofness and his difficulties in connecting make Yanqing feel unsure of where he fits in RenJingHeng's new relationship.

To Dan Heng, Dan Feng's displays of affection contrast with his responsibility to the Vidyadhara, which leads Yanqing to make himself small so he doesn't stress out his father.

"How can you be okay with him going off like that? Getting possessed, sneaking off? He's practically skin and bones! Not to mention, you almost killed him. What kind of father are you?"

"You're one to talk to. Your son is so worried about disappointing you that he puts himself in harm's way constantly to prove himself!"

"Your's does the same!"

This ends with both of them crying and being very upset. Dan Feng has always struggled with emotions and can only communicate through words and acts of affection. Dan Heng is unsure how to communicate and care for Yanqing since he was never allowed to be a child and has no idea how to fit himself into the family dynamics.

Yingxing- Ren

They also do not get along and Ren is responsible for it.

Yingxing is very affectionate to Yanqing despite his strictness. Ren is not affectionate at all and approaches the relationship with a bit of teasing but also a constant state of "you are a child but are nothing like Silver Wolf, so I don't know how to communicate with you."

Yingxing sort of pities Ren since he sees Ren's marastruck fate as what could have happened to him if the Blessings of the Arbor went awry.

But this does not stop either of them from disliking each other. Unlike Dan Heng and Dan Feng, they do not engage with each other at all and instead actively ignore each other.

To Yingxing, Ren is confused and doesn't know how to interact with other people. However, his confusion creates more confusion for Yanqing, who believes that he is being pushed out of the family because of Canon! Jing Yuan is spending more time to incorporate Ren into his life.

To Ren though, Yingxing is a hypocrite. While Ren doesn't know how to interact with Yanqing, Yingxing is the same with his child. He doesn't understand why his child is sacrificial and reckless as if they weren't the traits he saw valued by his parents- their sacrificial and reckless actions in service to the Luofu.

AU! Jing Yuan - Canon! Jing Yuan

They get along pretty well since they are both very mellow people and their nature allows them to understand the other. Their time is spent comparing their respective sons. Hobbies? Favorite foods? Even habits as babies?

Some are similar like sword collecting but others are very different like AU! Yanqing prefers Vidyadhara seafood cuisine and spicy food over Canon! Yanqing prefers savory food from the Luofu and sweet treats like pudding and boba.

They also talk about their worries for their son. About how AU! Yanqing keeps throwing himself in danger to save his comrades even though his death would break his family's heart or how Canon! Yanqing keeps searching for stronger and stronger opponents in a relentless need to improve.

Jingliu

They don't talk at all. I don't see either of them seeing any merit in talking with each other. Instead, they communicate with their blades. To them, crossing blades with an opponent tells them what they need to know. The fight takes 30 minutes and by the end of it, both parties take their leave and stay silent for the rest of the day. If you asked the others, they could not tell you a single thing said during the fight. However, to the sword masters, they knew all they needed to know.

Baiheng

Well, she sort of dead in the canon so there isn't anything she can react to. She is, however, very sad that she passed and left Jing Yuan alone. even if her death was for a good cause.

AU! Yanqing- Canon! Yanqing

They talk about swords. That is honestly it. Their parents are fighting each other so they thought it would be best to avoid additional confrontation. They have also repressed a lot of their childhood insecurities so both of them are not exactly aware of the fact their behaviors are not the healthiest.

AU! Yanqing throws himself in the line of fire because he's seen his parents do it. He wants to protect the Luofu because his fathers spent so much time governing it and ensuring its peace and prosperity. But also, deep down, he wants to show that he is worthy of being their son.

Canon! Yanqing masters the sword not for glory, but to ease the general's burden. They do not call each other father and son even though both parties see each other that way. However, since things are never said, Yanqing believes Jing Yuan sees him as merely an apprentice rather than family. So now that Jing Yuan is bringing Dan Heng and Ren into his life, Yanqing is waiting for when he'll be served the eviction notice.

This was a really fun ask and I hope you enjoyed it!!! Please feel free to send more!

[bunnieswithknives]

As much as I love angst I think it would be funny if he just didnt give af

[miyuskye]

Oda: draws a funny roger pic

one of his assistants probably: ok i'm gonna make this about shanks and buggy instead

[hinamie]

yeah sorry theyre tragic in this au too

jjk atla!au with @philosophiums

[jadequarze]

How the tables have turned.

[meru90]

hc that haitham was a lil blushy mess😣and then 🗿🗿

[poppy-metal]

had a thought of fwb patrick calling you to let you know he fucked someone else (he is SO good at communication if he cares about preserving a relationship) and being like “i kept calling them your name but they didn’t feel like you :/ ”

crying because you're probably the one who said you should see different people - scared of getting attached to patrick and inevitably getting your heart broken - but you know you can't resist him either, not when he speaks to you in that voice and looks at you with those eyes like he's already thinking about being balls deep inside you and is just letting you have your little moment till it happens, so yeah. walls are put up. you'll let him bounce you on his cock in the back of his van, but you wont be exclusive with him.

it kinda backfires on you because you're the one who finds it hard to actually fuck other people, so insistent that you wanted to - and yet whenever you're with another man it just feels wrong when he puts his hands on you. you purposely refuse to think about patricks side of things. you're not special. thats why you made the fucking rule. you knew that from the start.

so when patrick calls you drunk and he starts to tell you about this girl he was just fucking - you're ready to hang up - ready to try and brush it off and pretend it doesn't hurt, you dont care, its what you expected, this is why the rules were in place anyway, dont fucking cry - but then his voice reaches through you through the receiver, all scratchy and rough when he tells you - "s'not the same, though."

and you furrow your brows. curious enough to not hang up just yet. still sick at the knowledge he was with someone else, maybe this is self punishment - hearing the gritty details will detach yourself from him further. which is what you need. "what wasn't the same? pussies pussy, isn't it."

patrick makes a sound on the other end of the line. one of obvious disagreement. "no." he says, seems to collect himself to say something more - you hear faint background sounds. something metallic. his keys maybe? the creak of his mattress. he just got home probably. is getting into bed. "there's pussy and there's your pussy."

you find yourself also getting into your own bed. settling against your pillows. you try not to react to that, press the phone closer to your ear. "uh huh," you say, going for sarcastic. you want him to elaborate.

and because patricks a fucking talker, he does exactly that. "you've totally fucking ruined me for other women. i mean, unless someone is cool with me being balls deep and saying another womans name. that woman is you, by the way. fucking mood killer."

you hear the switch of a lighter being flicked on. you can imagine him lounging back in his bed after a night out - he's probably just in his boxers - maybe even naked - lazily pulling drags from a cigarette as he talkes to you. phone balanced between his cheek and shoulder.

"do you want me to feel bad for you?" you tell him, and there's perhaps a smile in your voice. perhaps. "poor patrick."

"you should." he tells you, voice scratchy like how it is right after he took a hit. you hear the exhale as he lets the smoke out. patrick looks unfairly good with a cigarette. even though he should quit. you wonder if hes holding it between his fingers or if its trapped between his lips as he fiddles with something else. "considering its your fault. your pussy gave me whiskey dick for other girls."

you try not to let that mean anything. fail. you bite your bottom lip.

"so you were thinking of me?" you hate the note of hope in your voice. god, you're pathetic. you feel the power of the situation slipping from you.

the bed creaks again from his side as he readjusts. picturing him isn't helping. half dressed or nude. half dressed or nude. how unkempt is his hair right now? you wish he was in front of you. "i was going down on her," he starts and you frown.

"ugh-"

"shut up. i was going down on her and she was making these sounds right? and i just kept thinking-" he says your name. over and over again. "- and 'her pussy feels better than this'. had to fuckin. close my eyes and imagine that shit - that last time i fucked you? when you sank down on my shit and just - fucking bounced on it - d'you remember that? no one fucks my dick like you do. shits insane. anyway, i was thinking about that - and i guess i said your name or something - she's slapping the shit out of me out of nowhere. kicked me out." he lets out a long suffering sigh. "this is a fucking problem."

you roll over onto your stomach. kick your feet in the air behind you. "oh, its a problem, huh?" you pout out your bottom lip. "poor patrick. so pussy whipped he cant slut himself out. im crying for you."

"oh, fuck off." he grunts. "like you dont think about me when you're getting pounded by some pencil dicked bitch."

"and how do you know their dick sizes? maybe im getting 'pounded' by monster cock every weekend."

"nah." is patricks simple reply.

you glare even though he cant see you. "the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"it means." patrick says, deliberately. "that if you were taking cock from anyone with a big dick your cunt wouldn't be as tight as it is."

you swallow. vulgarity from patricks lips shouldn't sound as good as it does.

"vaginas dont work like that, stupid."

"baby." he says it condescendingly. a gush of wet soaks your pussy. fuck. his voice. he shouldn't be allowed to call you that. new rule. that you'll impose later. "you're as tight as a virgin down there. I'm not saying you'd be loose, but - i definitely wouldn't have to pin you down." if you're slipping your hand under yourself to touch yourself, no you're not. "- and fucking bully my cock into you."

you tremble a little. "you have an unnaturally big cock its -" you swallow "- its not any indication of the men i sleep with."

"sure." he tells you. he doesn't believe you. fucking smug asshole. "so you're saying you dont think of me?"

you lie, "that's what im saying."

its quiet on the other side of the line. your hand comes out of your panties, you look down at your phone but he hasn't hung up.

"huh." he says eventually.

"what?" you sit up.

"it's just interesting."

"what about it is interesting?"

"nothing." he replies. his tone is unreadable. you cant tell if hes amused or pissed or just doesn't care. you wish you could see his face. when he's irritated, his jaw works back and forth. when he's entertained, his lips are quirked. you wonder what his hands are doing too. if he's fidgeting with his fingers to show anxiety, or if his knee is bouncing with contempt. "i wanted to tell you I'll be out of town for a few weeks."

you blink. this is - startling. sudden. whiplash. you open and close your mouth like a fish.

weeks. plural. the longest you've gone without seeing patrick is three weeks. and that's when you're both busy. anxiety enters your chest. a fissure of it.

"oh?" you try to sound casual. "how long?"

"dont know." he exhales through the receiver. "its just some tennis shit. I'll be in florida for a month."

"oh."

he says your name again.

"yeah?" your mind is drifting. a strange feeling. like you already miss him when he's not even gone yet. a month without patrick zweig... without his hands and his face and his lips and body on yours -

"I'm gonna miss you." he says. he sounds deeply sincere. like, intensely so. your heart thumps in your chest, a wild thing. you feel like suddenly, your response is very important. you lick your lips. the urge to tell him you'll miss him too on the tip of your tongue -

you say - "you'll miss my pussy, you mean."

silence for a beat.

then he huffs a laugh. "yeah. yeah, i will." he doesn't sound amused though. "gonna pass the fuck out, i think. night."

"nigh-" you start but the line clicks.

he hung up.

[the-great-horse-cocktail]

Alternate timeline where Stanley doesn’t accidentally ruin Ford’s project but he still doesn’t get into Geek Life University bc some kid showed up with a baking soda volcano

[seaweedraindraws]

I was saving this for my fanfic but I liked the idea so much I had to draw it!

Bonus:

Here is a link to the fic this scene is from! (Only chapter 1 is up, so this scene has not yet happened)

[yayll]

~ a little something about the complicated way you and Dazai acknowledge each other's feelings ~

"We can't let it end like this. We simply can't."

"Dazai, what are you talking about? I'm literally just going on my lunch break."

"... I'll find a way for us to be together! Someday!"

You've been bickering back and forth with him ever since you stepped foot in the agency this morning, or more like he's been performing a whiney one sided narrative that you and your co-workers are more than familiar with. Though it's only ever directed at you. The confusing declarations of love, the lack of personal space, and then there are the days he won't even look or speak to you at all. It was emotional whiplash, but you did your best to drown out the feelings he evoked in you.

Dangerous ones you wouldn't dare indulge in, because if so, you get the feeling your heart would never recover from a man like Dazai. You grab your wallet, and push in your desk chair when he calls out to you once more in a much more serious tone, one that sounds bored.

"If you must leave, will you please pick up something on your way back for me?"

"What is it this time?"

"Bandages, I suppose"

He says that like it's an afterthought, like he couldn't care less for whatever he was asking for.

He's been asking you to go on odd little shopping trips for him for weeks now, and you being the dog you are, say yes every single time. You think about how Dazai loathes dogs. It makes you physically ill the way you feel about him. Whatever it is. You nod, and reply softly.

"Okay. Sure."

"So compliant! If I didn't know any better l'd say you're madly in love with me. Should we run off into the sunset and get married?"

You simply stare at his sardonic smile for a long while, and he stares back. It's like you're sending each other psychic waves, secret messages only you two could decode. Only you two could fathom. He stares into you with that piercing gaze of his, the one that might as well call you an idiot for ever thinking there's a real person behind his heavenly face. His eyes are pretty, they make yours feel dull in comparison. After a while, a faint half smile creeps onto your lips, trying to feign the same indifference as his. You fail, obviously.

"Mm, sounds too hopeful, even for you."

"Yikes! Right you are. Commitment. How awful.... No one wants that kind of trouble."

Dazai states cruelly, leaning back into his chair at his desk, arms crossed. He has to bite down to keep from smiling and giggling like a fool, as this is exactly what he wishes would happen.

His heart flutters for a brief moment at the visual of such a fantasy, such privilege to have you forever. He knows how badly you secretly want this too, but he doesn't plan on putting you out of your misery just yet. Shame on you to think of him as a real person who's allowed to pursue the things he wants! He continues when he sees you've gone completely silent, standing with your keys in your hand like a mannequin.

"Besides, I'm sure you've met plenty of other guys that are far more suitable for you. I mean, look at me, I used to be a criminal." He winks at you, hinting at his sketchy past. He's such a fantastic performer when he's at his worst.

"... And no one wants that kind of trouble, right?" You echo his past words back to him, once again failing to match his rejection.

"Oh you wretched little creature. Right again!"

You can't take much of this any longer, smiling politely as you simply turn around, and walk out of the agency. Your eyes sting.

Dazai just sits there, staring at the door, counting the seconds until you're back. He rests his chin on his palm, unblinking. He taps his fingers on the desk, and lets out a deep sigh. It's all he does, all he looks forward to every single day you leave.

You finally come back nearly an hour later, carrying a small bag and leftovers from your lunch. He lights up like the moon during the clearest night sky, and stands up immediately. His demeanor completely changes as he flashes you a delighted grin, rushing to you.

"You're back~"

"Yeah, here are your bandages."

"My what?"

"The bandages you asked for..?"

His eyes widen for a moment, and then he chuckles, shaking his head. He flicks his own forehead.

"Of course! Thank you. Now, may I have the receipt as well?"

He looks excited, his open palm cupped in front of you, as if you were giving him a treat. You raise a brow and shrug, handing him the crumpled piece of paper. You don't even question it anymore. He frowns. You think he looks like a disgruntled little kid.

"Ugh. You wrinkled it."

"What? Why does it matter?"

"Well I obviously wanted to keep it, silly goose."

You try to make sense of what he could possibly mean, and you decide it's not worth getting into. You can't afford the heartache nor the brain cells.

"That's the weirdest thing you've ever asked me."

"Not true. I've never asked you for a kiss~"

You almost drop to the floor with the way his eyes darken, despite his tone being the complete opposite. You stare at him yet again for what feels like ages, your heart set ablaze, with Dazai being the pyromaniac who won't let your embers die out of his own amusement. Your voice comes out low, meek.

"Well I'm clearly not the person you dream of, so no."

You could swear his awful smirk falls off just a tiny bit, but any evidence of that is gone in a blink of an eye. His voice comes out soft and laced with a hint of honeyed bitterness.

"And if you weren't, l'd dream of you anyway."

He mutters under his breath as he looks out the window, as if you weren't supposed to hear that. the sun is slowly setting and the moon will illuminate soon after. He wishes he could see what you look like at night.

You roll your eyes because if you don't, you'll bury your face in his chest and sob. Oh, he's the worst. You put on your best cynical voice followed by a scoff.

"That's lovely, Dazai."

"You look lovely." He states simply, still looking at the way the moon ghosts in the sky.

"... Thank you."

"It's my pleasure." He murmurs, solemnly. In that moment, you don't catch it, but he's telling you he loves you too.

And just like that, you slowly walk past him and sit at your desk. You might have a stroke, but you still have reports to finish.

Dazai quietly does the same, sitting down and opening a drawer, and then a secret compartment within it. He glances at you for a moment, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he flashes you an exaggerated smile when you catch him looking, then turns his attention back down, the smile dropping.

He places the wrinkled receipt into a larger stack of countless other receipts, all from past errands you've run for him lately. He smoothes it carefully, for it is a priceless sentiment amongst his collection of the things you so graciously give him. It's pathetic, but it's like holding your hand. It's like kissing you. It's like true love.

[zu-is-here]

Fall

Aftermare Week by @bluepallilworld

Geno by loverofpiggies

Nightmare by jokublog

[feelo-fick]

miscellaneous au doodles + a VERY self indulgent song lyric comic :D

+ extra evil comic below the cut :

"chil!" "don't look at me like that..."

[searenbound]

Do you think it would bother Bakugou if after a mutual breakup you stopped calling him by his given name?

Like he got so used to you calling him Katsuki or some variation of it that now it just feels wrong hearing his family name coming from your lips and on the other side he has to force himself to call you by your family name too.

Maybe it just feels weird because you’re still in love with each other?

You agreed to go back to being friends, like some dumb teenagers who rushed into things and couldn’t handle it, sure. But you were together for a year and half, and only agreed to breakup because he had an overseas mission that would keep you apart for a long time.

You didn’t want to put each other through the stress of long distance with the added stress of little to no communication for the sake of the mission.

You were still in love, so maybe that’s why hearing you call him Bakugou hurts so much? What is he even thinking? Of course that’s why it hurts

[lithuea]

Heart Rate

[lovesickeros]

☆ you sow; & thus you shall reap what you are owed

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

You are dying.

Gold melts into the dirt, bleeds into the very earth that you'd molded by your own hands – a familiarity you do not understand the source of – you know it to be true, yet you do not remember it as Teyvat does. It weeps, in turn, for the way you bleed upon it, the way your lungs strain for breath.

It is fury and sorrow and fear and hatred so raw that your mind buckles.

You will die.

"A dying godling and its judge, it's jury – it's executioners," The voice is hollow and cold, sweeps across your broken body like the first chill of winter, "Archons who saw themselves Gods, now brought to heel by their own hubris."

A cold hand upon your cheek, the brush of a thumb across your lip, the gentle caress of cold across your skin. You know her – you don't remember, you shouldn't recognize her but you do – and she knows you. The cold beckons and you follow, let her kindness settle in the hollow space of your chest. You want to speak, to cry and scream and rage, let the world burn around you in a fit of flames so hot even she cannot contain it – but she silences you, quiets the anger seeping into your blood, quiets Teyvat itself.

"Do not speak, little godling. Guide my hand," She is cold; her hands are not gentle, yet it is bliss compared to the callous, cruel hands that have shattered you. She is cruel and cold and brutal but she is love in the way she kisses the crown of your head. She is love in the way she is the bulwark between you and the world that has scorned you – she is fury in the way she brings them to their knees. "And I shall enact judgement most divine."

They will pray for forgiveness, and they shall find themselves wanting.

"It wasn't our fault!" They cry, but you cannot recognize the voice – it breaks and cracks like glass. "They were too human. How were we meant to know? We– we thought they were.."

Silence.

You watch your judge – the executioner, the blade that shall carve their sins into the very marrow of Teyvat, stand above you like death. As cold as winter and just as brutal. Your temple has been painted in the gold of your divine blood, and she shall complete the masterpiece with their own. The Archons shall become the grandest art in the world – this temple the canvas, their blood the paint and their bodies the palette. The cold that cuts sinew cradles you – it sings to you, whispers sweetly in your ear and carves bone from body in the same breath. The cold presses it's lips to your wrist and it cradles a heart within it's palm – judges them and finds them guilty.

It is her spear that rests between their ribs, her sword that dissects and her dagger that carves – the cold devours.

In the breadth of this divine sanctuary, the Archons dwindle. They become the pieces of a divine work of art, they bleed and bend and break upon her hands. She shakes the heavens and carves mortality into the bones of the divine – your word is Law, and you weave their deaths into the roots of Teyvat itself.

They shall know of their grand folly in every moment henceforth and longer still and they shall weep.

And as the curtain falls, as the world crumbles beneath fist and blade, she cradles your face between hands too cold – as gentle as a shard of ice between your ribs, as brutal as the kiss of gentle snowfall. The world buckles at the loss of six, but she alone does not allow it to break – you will have to mend the wounds of the world when you are well, but today you weep and Teyvat weeps with you.

And alone, the cold remains.

Stone has eroded, the wind has ceased, the flames have been extinguished, the storm has been silenced, the forests have gone quiet and the seas go still.

But the cold remains, bathed in gold.

It wraps you in thick furs, cradles you against the winter storm that brews beneath a veneer of composure. It brings you home – lets the world settle into a stillness and silence that inspires only dread and still she presses a kiss to your brow.

It is cold, but there has never been something so warm.

Where hands have broken you, she drapes you in furs, wipes away the thick gold that clings to your skin. She pieces you back together where you have been shattered, reshapes you where you have been bent – makes of you something new. Not a god and not a mortal but something wedged between them.

But you are yourself.

And you are where you belong.

They shall put you back together and you shall know only the worship worthy of the divine. They shall carve this world into your image, tear out and burn away the rot that festers.

All you need to do is say the word and they shall be your tools to make this world your own.

One word and those who wronged you shall burn, too.

Just one word. That's all it takes, and they shall take away your pain.

[spirk-trek]

Daring Attempt Fanzine #7 | Shellie Whild & Tere Ann Roderick, 1987 + scenes from Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan (1982)

Sad Song by Tere Roderick

I watched a friend die today...

It was an easy death -- As deaths go. He just seemed to slip further and further from me Until I could not feel him "there" anymore. It was not an heroic death, No glory... Only the silence of an unshed tear. Now I sit staring into the brandy... I do not drink... did not drink... before... Or so I told him. Now the amber fluid is all I have. I watched a friend die today. My soul went with him.