#but i bet u could do it

[tyrannuspitch]

a few times i've heard people say/imply that all enemies-to-lovers either actually is enemies-to-friends-to-lovers or should be, and i feel like what this perspective misses is that often good EtL is a TIME BOMB. it doesn't have to be shallow or unaffectionate just because there isn't a distinct friendship stage. sometimes the entire point is that you entirely sublimate the friendship stage until all the affection explodes at once.

like. it's not simply - "we're enemies but i like them. :/" it's - "we're enemies. we're enemies, right? my gaze lingers on you but we're still enemies. i may have shown you mercy once but we're still enemies. i'm just putting your death on hold. i'm still going to kill you soon enough. we will always be enemies." it's about driving the characters little by little past the point of plausible deniability but still refusing to admit it. "i can't stop thinking about you. because i hate you. i need you. because our animosity defines me. i think often when i fight you i just want to be near you, but now we're together anyway. but this can't last. we will always be enemies." it's about making the moment they become lovers both surprising and inevitable. it's about laying the groundwork for romance WITHIN what is nominally hatred so that at just the right moment you snap your fingers and it just... falls into place. like the final twist of a rubix cube, or a magic trick - it's about the romance being the answer to a question which finally makes everything make sense.

[blended-ice]

What if they made it a pair skate?

[luck-of-the-drawings]

THIS THING IS SCUUUFFED AS HELL & ITS ALSO THE BEST THING I HAVE ANIMATED THUS FAR. IM SO IN LOVE WITH EMIZEL. JUST WISH I GAVE HIM MORE STUPID TATTOOS. NEXT TIME THO. NEXT TIME. I ALSO LOVE VEX&VIV SOOOO MUCH. charlies flavor of Deranged is my FAVORITE!!

[yangjeongin]

SKZ as DND CLASSES: WARLOCK FELIX

warlocks are seekers of the knowledge that lies hidden in the fabric of the multiverse. through pacts made with mysterious beings of supernatural power, warlocks unlock magical effects both subtle and spectacular.

[team-118]

that's the thing. he's the one you forget to count on. he's perfect but it's a front. he's happy but it's a lie. he cut the damn line and he's still alive down here. he's 9, he's 19, 21, 27, with the weight of the world on his seemingly bulletproof shoulders. he's braver than anyone should have to be. he takes responsibility to a fault. he's cursed but the universe doesn't scream. he's a wonderful partner as long as he doesn't look it in the eye. he's falling backwards into a pool of his own blood and he's dancing in his underwear in his living room. he's gonna be better. for christopher? no, for himself. he's golden and glowing at sunset on the court, he's singing karaoke and djing with drag queens, he's falling to fucking pieces and then he's putting himself back together. who the hell is that? eddie diaz, new recruit. we don't bet against him.

[shesmore-shoebill]

maybe its good vic and amanda dont consistently work together the way angela and vic do because i'd fear for the fabric of society if they were consistently doing improv together. they would match each others freak right into the sun. the only thing protecting the world from vicmanda power duo is the fact that they're both busy in slightly different circles. the sheer power these two could generate....

[mikansei]

i'm thinking about the guards outside aventurine's room in the reverie. stuck working a boring security job on THE planet of festivities, stationed outside a room in boring reality where someone's literally just sleeping all day. absolutely jackshit to do.

but there's no way aventurine would trust just any old grunt to guard him when he's that vulnerable; they had to have been hand-picked, personally vetted over years of working for him. it's no small feat to become someone aventurine trusts not to stab him in the back, even with the built-in insurance that if you shank your boss, he can't sign your paychecks anymore.

so they were familiar enough with him to know how he works, i.e., pulling off insane stunts and doing it solo. i have to think they're the kind of people who would've wanted to join him - not because they're sore about not getting to see the dream, but because they want to guard him IN the dream. you have a whole team of us, boss! put us to work!

and he keeps insisting no, he has to do it alone. it's too risky.

what could notorious gambler aventurine possibly find "too risky?" it's not that he thinks they'll slow him down or get in his way; it's not that he just prefers working alone or hates relying on others. that's what other people, in other departments, might think.

but these guys know: he does these missions solo because he doesn't want to risk their lives - that's the unacceptable risk to him.

(they also know not to ever say so aloud, because said notorious gambler has a reputation to maintain, and "worries about his employees' wellbeing" does not fit the image.)

[sluckythewizard]

these are A BIT OLD but uhhh here check out these aggio doodles i did forever ago. still VERY happy w my colors :3

[metiredlr]

They're besties I just know it

[puppetmaster13u]

Thinkin' of WOF Au for DC, but like, it's a Gothamite and Fawcett thing. (And Amity Park if crossover)

Like those are the most magical areas in the world, even if Gotham is cursed as fuck. An unspoken secret of sorts that while they present themselves as human to outsiders, they are all Very Much Not.

Which means hilariously in the league, when everyone expects Batman to be suspicious and short with the new guy- even made bets on it- they are then shooketh when both visibly relax and start talking. And half the shared complaints don't make sense!

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Now Gotham technically has no Queen, nor does Fawcett, but Batman and Captain Marvel are the closest things. Not in the traditional sense of back when they were in separate tribes (& maybe from a different dimension but shh that was millennia ago) but in the sense of, they're the ones patrolling and protecting the cities along with calling the shots in disasters.

Which does sort of change the dynamic they both have in their city. If one of them calls to arms, the city would follow them. They could declare war, and their cities (begrudgingly in Gotham's underbelly's case of strongest is in charge) would follow. And while Billy is oblivious, both Marvel-the-not-hivemind and Batman are. They know they have to be very careful.

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I'm sure we all want Nightwing Bruce but no. Bruce, like both his mother and father and father's father and so on before him, is actually an Icewing. The Waynes however, have a case of melanism running in their bloodline. Thomas Wayne? Only his quills and part of his back were darker, but Bruce? Practically pitch black scales that shadow his eyes.

Now Alfred on the other hand, is a Nightwing. No special powers there, though you would hear many a child protest with how he seems to know everything.

Commissioner Gordon is a Mudwing, big stocky and very tired, which translates to his human disguise as a large trenchcoat. He finds this very amusing. Barbara similarly, is half Mudwing. Her mother was a Hivewing, making her a hybrid between both. Which does ironically mean that Batgirl does in fact have insectoid wings. Though that does ponder the question on if they'd all go by their original vigilante names.

Dick is a Silkwing. Wingless as he watches his parents fall and unable to do anything despite this place supposedly being safe for beings like them. He grows into his own, and his wings, when they come in, are dark Gotham colors through and through, with the deep blue of the sky he's come to crave.

Jason is a hybrid between a Mudwing and a Skywing. He's also an animus- not that he knew that. He doesn't find out until he's dying, telling himself to not die, to get back to Gotham, to his dad, his family- And then he wakes up in his Coffin, alive.

Now Cass, raised to be the perfect killer, is also a hybrid, just one between a Nightwing and a Rainwing, egg set out under the moon. Which succeeds, partially. She can't straight up read minds, but combined with her talent in reading body language on both human and inhuman bodies, it's a near thing.

Tim is a Seawing, borderline abandoned by his parents who seek treasures and more wealth as he's trapped back in a city where the water is dark and poisoned. But he's Gothamite, through and through, and he adapts. Scales darker than the original blues he was born with, and glow shifting to that sickly white of the Gotham's Bats.

Now Steph, is a full-blooded Rainwing, and can in fact change her scales, but can mostly be found in purples and golds. Though for a short time she was in another set of colors, thought dead before she slithered out of the shadows older and wiser than before.

Damian is his father's son, but he's also an Al-Ghul. The not-quite dragonet is half Icewing, and half Sandwing. And struggled to adjust at first, to a place so different from his first home where the only other dragons were blood related. But like any Wayne before him, he adjusts, and he adapts.

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Billy wasn't a Beetlewing originally, and perhaps he would have hesitated if he'd known it would change him, would change his body and the last thing he had of his parents. But his friends, his Team and new family help. And he can pass as a Silkwing like their sort-of foster mother. All six of them can do so now, even if the others look more like hybrids themselves thanks to not being the Champion. They might not be, but they're his family. And that's enough.

[seiwas]

hi sel!! i missed seeing you around dash - i hope you’re enjoying your lil vacation!

n for your lil game.. if it appeals.. may i suggest touya + rain/storm ?

scar hello!! sorry i've been on and off these past months 🥹 i missed being on here too!! i have been enjoying my lil vacation though 🥺 it's been a while since i've just chilled at home! thank you for sending in a prompt 💗

contains: fallen angel touya, visions in dreams, kind of disorientating what's reality vs not, reader tries melatonin, there is a fire

touya + storm

there's a storm outside your window.

the rattling of string lights on your balcony jolts you awake, the wind howling an eery melody. this weather is common at this time of the year, but tonight, you feel uneasy. you think there's something on your front yard.

your footsteps are light as you make your way down your staircase, the flashlight on your left hand clutched tightly as you reach for the umbrella by the door.

it's zero visibility on your front yard, heavy rainfall being dragged sideways by the wind. you squint, flashing your light at the area in front of you.

a broken branch from your neighbor's tree dangles loosely towards your fence, but you can't make out anything else apart from that. you contemplate stepping outside to get a better look, but a burst of light streaks itself across the sky, lightning flashing before thunder rumbles loud enough that it reverberates in your heartbeat. a sudden chill breezes over you, your skin prickling from strands of hair standing.

your flashlight flickers, the light going out once before you tap it on your wrist twice. and when it turns back on, you think you can make out a figure hunched over the shrub at the far right of your garden.

you flash your light over the area to get a better look but it turns black―your vision or the light, you're not sure.

the next time you open your eyes, you're tucked in bed, squinting your eyes at the brightness of sunlight.

a dream? you wonder. the jacket you're certain you reached for is still right by your vanity, untouched. could be.

your front yard is trashed, just like you expected it to be, if your subconscious was trying to tell you anything from last night's dream. plants are uprooted, with small branches scattered all over the grass. you suck in a breath when you spot the broken branch from last night just as you saw it―still barely hanging on as it dangles over your fence.

you must have heard it break off in your sleep, you tell yourself. the mind can be quick in associating these things.

things become weird after that.

you get more visions in your sleep, mostly when the storm beats heavy raindrops against your window. sometimes, they're the same as the first time―instances of you searching outside but blacking out and waking in your bed the next morning. others, they're stranger, more vivid. you see a man with white hair turning red at the tips.

he comes to you in flashes―in between lightning strikes and thunder claps; in fragments, distorted by sheets of rainfall. you can never fully make out his face, but his eyes glow a striking blue amidst the darkness that often surrounds him.

the melatonin makes it worse. for a few nights now, you've begun to see more of his silhouette, similarly hunched over that shrub from the first night, except it grows taller, almost as if he's standing.

you wake up every time he almost reaches full height. but were you even really sleeping?

your therapist tells you it must be stress. this particular time at work is busy, after all. and, "halloween festivities can be impressionable when the mind is tired."

so you let it go, hoping that the dreams disappear eventually.

but then you find a feather. it's long, far too long to belong to any animal you know of; the color is charcoal black, with its tips slightly crisp as if it's been burnt. you find it by the shrub, where the silhouette crouches over every night in your dreams.

your palms sweat as you handle it, a mixture of anxiety and fear. you feel sick to your stomach; scared and disoriented. what even is real?

you call your friend, midoriya, to keep you company. he's no cynic, but if anyone could think up an explanation for anything, it'd have to be him. he has notebooks and journals full of analyses and theories on a bunch of weird things.

"can you tell if he's... uh..." he tries to find the words, as if trying not to scare you, "demonic?"

though with how jittery he is, you're pretty sure he's just as, if not more, nervous.

"i don't know yet," you admit, setting down his blanket for the night, "i guess he does feel kinda angry, but..." you think back to those blue eyes, trying to discern the exact emotion in them, "not at me i think. i don't know."

midoriya jots down some more notes as rain increasingly patters outside your window. you're sure he'll spend the whole night figuring this out from the way he continues to ask you more questions.

that night, you dream of the figure again, but something about this time feels ominous; larger. it starts out with his face, lightning illuminating glimpses of his expressions. you see scars across his cheeks and his hair turning a shade darker. another crackle of lightning brings him further away, hunched over the shrub again, except this time, he begins to stand; and you're prepared to wake up again right before he shows himself in full height―except you don't.

he stands before you still concealed by the downpour, but his presence is simultaneously chilling yet glorious. and you don't expect it, what happens next―the unfurling of wings right by his sides. they span the width of your entire yard, large and so unlike anything you've ever seen before.

then, an alarm breaks, and you wake, neither in bed nor on your front porch.

your feet touch wet asphalt, the sensation hardly differentiating itself from how drenched you are by the rain. thick smoke fills your lungs as you stand before a blazing house a few streets down yours. sirens sound around you―an ambulance, a firetruck, and a police car, all managing the commotion.

people evacuate their nearby houses as the policemen round them up at a safe distance. out of everyone in the scene, you seem the closest of all, the heat from the fire nearly licking at your cheeks.

"everybody, please step back!" one of the firemen shout. to your right, another one hurriedly hauls a body down to the stretcher beside you. a paramedic immediately tends to the person before you can even catch a look.

"please step back!" the fireman closest to you calls out, but the sound is muffled in your ears, almost by a dull ringing and the subtle sound of wings flapping. an unexplainable urge pulls you toward the body.

"hey―!" the fireman tries to call for your attention, but you ignore him, inching closer towards the stretcher. you tiptoe to get a better look, and as you catch a glimpse of the body's face―

the fireman holds you by the shoulder, "i said―!" as another paramedic addresses you and asks, "do you know this man?"

and right there on the stretcher is him―white hair with red at the tips; his cheeks are an angry shiny red, like its been melted, burnt. he remains only semi-conscious, eyes half-lidded as he is tended to. but when you peer over, he blinks and manages to look at you.

you find the same striking blue.

[origamiwiings]

Brain is currently being eaten by:

[dovewingkinnie]

i think there needs to be a warrior cats fnaf au but it’s not where you switch the characters from one media to another

no you have to commit and mix the lore of both universes together

william would be a kittypet 100%

[deus-ex-mona]

when the slowburn makes the ship extra cute~~~

[3416]

the nhl is so funny bc they will go great lengths to protect people accused of sexual assault or domestic violence, but they really draw the line at drugs and gambling, which is like.... isn't that WHAT your player assistance program is for? if anything..........

[mishy-mashy]

Bruce, you're hot, but you do get some bad angles hun

Below just reminds me of that Fraudrin guy from Seven Deadly Sins

THIS IS ACTUALLY PRETTY CUTE THO

HE LOOKS SO CONFUSED. LIKE HIS ONLY THOUGHT IS "I can have toast for breakfast" OR ABOUT BANANAS OR SOMETHIN.

(Bruce AFO is right behind you-)