#he absolutely knows :^)

[ofswordsandpens]

I can't remember how much of this is implied canon or my own interpretation, but I fully believed that Chiron recognized Percy was a son of Poseidon from the fountain incident with Nancy Bobofit, knew that a child of the Big Three being claimed would be a total shit show, and simply chose not to say a word about it

[artkaninchenbau]

Crocodile finds a strange stray cat an 11-year old Nico Robin (AU where they met 13 years earlier. Robin's been on the run from the World Government for 3 years. Crocodile's 27 and has not set up base in Alabasta yet)

It seems like I have become possessed. By some sort of demon.

Bonus:

[hauntedxgarbage]

it's all i can think of w/ @justtheclippy @vixenvtuber

[bananapeeeeellssss]

I see your Bruce Wayne is dating Batman rumors and raise you this:

Everyone knows that Bruce Wayne is dating Batman. Everyone knows that Jason Todd is Red Hood. Everyone knows that Jason Todd is Bruce Wayne’s dead son. Everyone knows Red Hood hates Batman. This is all a very open secret. Everyone knows Tim Drake and Red Robin have a very public beef with one another. And that Red Hood used to have a very public (but much more violent) beef with the third Robin.

This leads to the general accepted truth being that Red Hood hates Batman because he is fucking his dad, and Tim Drake and Red Robin dislike each other because Tim’s brother beat up Red Robin, and, once again, Red Robin’s dad is fucking Tim’s. Everyone feels a little bad for Red Robin, being at the end of both Red Hood’s and Tim Drake’s distaste, because the former is a crime lord and the latter is Timothy Jackson Drake.

This, naturally, reaches the JL whom does not know Batman’s identity yet. Green Arrow makes a passing comment about having also fucked Wayne, which Batman overhears. Cue absolute bat confusion, which he does not show. And that was how the great Batman found out that he accidentally 100% enforced the rumors that he was dating himself by the way he replied to reporters strange questions that in hindsight were so incredibly obvious.

This whole time, Young Justice is having the time of their lives (while also becoming increasingly concerned) as they watch Tim switch between devices as he replies to himself on different accounts on Twitter to further his own feud with Red Robin.

And Jason is. Not sure how he feels. On one hand, Bruce is now very uncomfortable about many, many things. And people yell at Batman when he starts treating Jason like his son (especially when he yells “I’m not your son!” Because what kind of boyfriend would try to make their boyfriend’s kid their own when they clearly don’t want to be). That’s an upside. But on the other, this implies that he is Bruce’s son. And that brings up a lot of feelings he doesn’t want to deal with. And back on that first hand, people have mostly stopped making thirst traps of his dad (gross). And on the second once more, they have started shipping Red Robin and Tim.

And the others are just sitting back and enjoying the ride (they are absolutely a part of this, but I’m too lazy to type out and come up with ideas for the rest)

[kagoutiss]

i’ll take care of everything

[artsymeeshee]

doodles of Ford being a good big brother (because he is)

[paintedcrows]

Holiday Classics

Been thinking about Ford watching the 70s Animated Lord of the Rings Movies... (companion comic to this post!)

[shotmrmiller]

sex pollen trope where you're the one affected, having been exposed to some dense gas while on an op that felt like harsh sandpaper across your throat and lungs, and now you're a feverish mess on some ratty cot in a safe house and with only ghost as company, it's miserable, as the saying goes.

hair sticking to your sweaty skin, plastered onto your forehead and neck, every swallow feeling like you've got a mouthful of sand, your fluttering pulse wild and deafening in your ears, and the throbbing ache deep in your core, the blistering heat right below your navel— it'd only been uncomfortable in the beginning, the faint throbbing incredibly familiar, but the more you ignored it, the worse it got.

and now you're here, with arousal sticking your underwear to your pussy, unable to do anything about it because your lieutenant is seated in a corner that lets him have both you and the front door within his line of sight. a quick, discreet rub under your clothes is not an option.

someone put you out of your foggy misery.

"squirmin' like a worm on a 'ook isn't gonna help." his staring doesn't either, yet he does it anyway.

"got to make sure ya aren't dyin' on me." you want to snap that you don't think proof of life is on the darkened stain between your legs, the retort pressed behind clenched teeth but another thick wave of bestial need rolls over you and god, you're about to shove your hand into your underwear, propriety be damned—

"best you don't do tha'." why the fuck not? "you'll only get relief for a moment 'fore it comes back twofold." he says as if he's reading off the morning paper and not watching you fight tooth and nail to not fuck yourself against the pillow your head is on. (soap's offer to be friends with benefits is only looking better by the hour.)

you hastily decide that it'll be better than nothing. you'll just have to rub your pussy raw until this drug runs its course and you're telling him to piss off or don't, but you've had enough. you're stuck here with him anyway, no flight home until the morn and you're not about to spend it writhing around.

"if tha's wha' you want," ghost bites his gloves off, spitting them out onto the ground before curling his hands around your ankles and dragging you toward him. "i will help." your entire world narrows down to the feel of him touching your skin, his fingers searing as they hook into the waistband of your pants, and you almost kick him in the mouth trying to get them off faster.

"but 'm not fuckin' you." the bite of disappointment is quickly forgotten, his breath warm against your slick pussy, and after three quick glides of his tongue over your pearl, your orgasm crests, pulse after pulse of pleasure so potent it stung.

in less than a minute you're burning again, need thrumming through you and with the heady push and drag of his middle finger over your sensitive nerves, curling in you until he can fit two, three—

you're lost.

(ghost telling you that he's not doing anything else because if he's going to fuck you then you're going to remember it falls on ringing ears.)

[noodles-and-tea]

Imma drop kick Ford for treating Lil Stanley like that. Keep it away??? Excuse me sir let me just smack you! How dare you treat that little boy like that. As if Stan doesn’t have enough self esteem issues as it is! You better hug him NOW 😭

Meanwhile Adult!Stanley is like “I will protect him with every last breath I have!” And hugging him so tight 🥹😫

I just needed you to know that Ford does come around… eventually.

[chloesimaginationthings]

Into the pit Jeff and Mike finally sleep together in FNAF..

[kiras-law]

light "if someone tries to read my diary i will set my drawer on fire" yagami

[beaft]

thinking about bg3 astarion introduction. something very funny about meeting a weird guy on the road and he's like "hey, sorry for trying to stab you. i'm a lawyer btw" and you're like well that seems true. and you click on his picture and see that his character class is just Professional Liar

[egophiliac]

he did it! 🐍 and it only took...uhhh...well, there probably could've been less punches, but why hold back!

PUNCHES FOR EVERYONE

[sad-littletalker]

If Bruce is covering as Nightwing right now, who's acting as Batman in Gotham?

Tim: ok so any takers for the cowl?

*everyone looks at Jason as he is the second oldest*

Jason: oh no way. Absolutely not. Tim?

Tim: after evil gun Batman? ha. Nope. Plus DC doesn't pay much attention to me to make a good story about that.

Damian: may I-

Everyone: no.

Stephanie: OH I COULD BE PURPLE BATMAN!

Cassandra: I want to be Batman if Steph is my Robin

*everyone considers it*

Tim: that... isn't a bad idea actually. I like it.

[prlssprfctn]

In his new room - in his new house - Jason searches up for a circus performances and stares at them for hours. First, he watches at them mindlessly, unconsciously curious, and then, he starts to take notes.

He is a street kid, and everything about him screams of that. So, he is nowhere near the grace of these performers on the screen. His arms are not that strong, too, but he is agile, and his legs are much stronger - he can think of something.

He can be just as good as the boy he is replacing.

It is not like someone tells him to match Richard Grayson, and it is not like someone admits that Jason is here to replace the first Wonder Boy, but Jason heard Bruce's conversation with Dick earlier. It was meant not for his ears, but it doesn't matter now.

"So, now what, you exile me, and bring a boy to replace me?!"

Jason is not mad. All of it ‐ adoption papers, the manor, the school - is much more than he ever thought he would get in his life. Being replacement doesn't sound as bad anyway; especially, if his brother is so cool.

So, he makes notes on circus performances and slightly chopes his hair. They are much curlier than Dick's - he has more of a wavy ones, and the only ever look that way, when they get long; his childhood photos with short hair looks too straight - but the cut does its magic.

The next day, Bruce compliments his hair absentmindedly and is positively surprised by his new moves on the patrol, asking where he learnt it from. Jason lies about not remembering, but his cheeks are flashed, and his smile is all about teeth. He can't wait to show it to Dick once they finally get on a mission together.

Expect, when they do, Dick just nods and mutters a light-hearted "good job" before leaving to talk with his team. And Jason knows Dick doesn't want to be mean - he gets it; no one feels good about having a replacement, especially the one that seems so cheap in comparison - but he still cries that night in his pillow, feeling himself a little kid, even if he isn't one. Even if he never was.

Jason wonders if his own replacement would make him understand Dick.

But Jason never gets replaced.

No matter the taunting voice of the Lazarus Pit in the back of his head - that sometimes sounds suspiciously like Talia's; you remain unavenged and replaced - and his own intrusive thoughts that spiral in uneven lines, Jason doesn't think Tim was ever meant to be his replacement. Being replaced means to match the person that was meant to be left behind. And no one asked Tim to be like Jason.

If anything, memory of Jason was thrown under the rag, hidden and locked securely in heads of those who survived. And if they brought Jason up, then it was always an example of what Robin shouldn't do: run away, disobey, and allow emotions to consume you. So, not much of an exemplary original. More like an opposite.

Jason feels an urge to explain that to Tim once; when they sit together on the rooftop, almost like a proper family, instead of broken pieces of someone's idea of a one.

'You could never replace me,' he says, and the instant it leaves his mouth, he knows it came out wrong.

Tim rolls his eyes.

'Yeah, dude. Whatever.'

'No, I mean—' He grits his teeth, scrapping slightly the back of his hand. 'I mean... You could never replace me, because... Because you were always better.'

Tim freezes. His big blue eyes shift in something more confused, and it is almost as if he is not sure how he needs to react — to protest? To agree? To thank him?

Jason doesn't know what to do, too.

He wants to say: it is easy as that, babybird. They wanted to have someone who would have nothing in common with me — someone who could help them to forget about my existence, about the existence of the failed Robin.

But he can't make himself speak again. And he is not sure he wants to stay any longer to hear Tin manging to put his thoughts in the words; he is better than him at this, too, and he almost always sounds convincing.

So, he leaves.

In his room - in the building he owns now - he ruffles his outgrown hair, fluffs up the white streak, and passes by his only remaining photo with Bruce in the frame, on the shelf under the stolen tire.

He still does this semi-circus move in his fights - almost frozen in the air, with his back arched - but he doesn't expect anyone to compliment him anymore.

[amusingghost]

just some feral (mer)kids

unapologetically inspired from @swordsmans's fic the sea makes bones of bodies because i read it (again) and my GOD man it makes me feel so many things