#i absolutely love your writing!

[starry-bi-sky]

Unpleasant Revelations - DPxDC Ficlet Idea for the Stillborn Au

"Have you met my youngest, Damian, Mr. Masters?"

Its only from twenty years of long, hard experience and practice that Vlad doesn't increase the room temperature from 'borderline uncomfortably cool' to 'unbearably hot' the moment Bruce Wayne pulls his youngest and "only" biological son out in front of him.

He puts only in quotations because twelve year old Damian Wayne looks scarily, uncannily like one Daniel Brown. Jack and Maddie's foster son, second victim of their foolishness, and only other halfa in existence. Second only to him.

It's nauseating how similar they look. From the scowl and terrible glare on the young boy's face, to his brown skin -- which was only a few shades lighter than Daniel's, the shape of his nose, and even the strange winged edge of his eyebrow. Something that Vlad has long since come to find endearing on the child he considered a son of his own. The only difference was that Damian had dark, sharp green eyes.

Daniel's eyes were blue. The same glacier shade as his father's, who stood behind Damian with a proud, oafish smile on his visage.

It was infuriating how similar they look. Vlad might not have rapidly swung the room temperature from one extreme to the other, but he can't stop himself from letting the fury burning within his core from slipping out and raising the temperature up a few degrees.

Because it really only meant one thing.

Damian Wayne and Daniel Brown were related.

Damian Wayne and Daniel Brown were brothers.

Standing in front of him, it was clear as day. He can already picture a phantom image of Daniel standing beside Damian, the same scowl written on his face, the same glare carved into his eyes. The only difference being the dark, exhausted circles beneath them that seemed to be permanently painted onto his skin. The only thing missing being the permanent loneliness and vigilance permeating his being like a scar.

This, if revealed, would be enough to ruin Bruce Wayne's reputation. Or, at the very least, darken it quite a bit. The great philanthropist Bruce Wayne with another secret blood child? One related to his youngest? One that had been put into foster care? Seemingly thrown away?

It would be a firestorm.

One that Vlad is not keen on starting.

It would ruin Bruce Wayne's reputation, yes. But it would hurt Daniel in the process -- the harassment he would face alone might just be enough to break that fragile child completely. That was just not something he could allow. Or, even worse, bring him into his biological father's care and custody -- something Vlad was even less willing to allow.

It's not out of kindness to Wayne that Vlad will keep mum about this.

His grip on his champagne flute tightens, just a bit. He's still aware enough of the world around him to not let it shatter in his hands. His plastered, pleasant smile tightens around the corners, and he forces his focus to slide from Damian to Wayne.

"The resemblance is uncanny, Mister Wayne." He says, slanting his smile to the side slyly. Although he's not talking about the resemblance between Wayne and his son. Rage simmers beneath his skin, burning coal and embers in the core of his chest, nestled between his lungs, as he meets the man's eyes.

Wayne swaggles his head proudly, his ditzy smile widening as he squeezes his son's shoulder affectionately. Bastard, Vlad wants to spit.

He breathes in through his nose, and exhales out through his mouth. The champagne in his hand cools, and stops its unusual bubbling.

The Damian boy scoffs under his breath, his mouth still coiled upward into a scowl. With the revelation of his blood relation to Daniel evident, Vlad's not sure if he should find it endearing or not.

He is not Daniel, so he decides that it's just simply irritating. He decides to ignore it.

"And you said he was your only biological son?" He asks, voice lilting and head tilting. He knows its a suspicious question at worst, insulting at best. But considering Wayne's past proclivities, he can hardly call it an unexpected question.

Damian puffs in great offense, face twisting angrily. It reminds him of Daniel when Vlad insisted that he was wrong about something or other, and for a moment his heart swells, fond.

But this is not his child, and so the feeling quickly crashes and burns, simmering back into rage. This was not Daniel -- this was his replacement. A replacement that Wayne was free to keep.

Wayne chuckles, idiotically, as if he'd said some funny joke. Vlad's other hand, the one gripping his cane -- something he's required ever since he was dispatched from the hospital all those lonely years ago -- tightens instead. He grinds his teeth -- him and Jack Fenton would get along like a house on fire, he hates it.

"I can understand why you'd ask that, Mister Masters," Wayne says, squeezing Damian's shoulder again, "but yes, Damian is my only biological son. Although that doesn't mean I don't love my other children any less."

Bastard.

For all his posturing and flouncing about caring for his city and his children, Vlad never would have thought the Prince of Gotham capable of abandoning one of them.

But, well.

They all have their dark secrets.

And what one man throws away, another man picks up. If Bruce Wayne didn't want the treasure child that was Daniel Brown, then Vlad Masters was more than happy to take him instead.

"I see."

[teddybeartoji]

it's not often you get to see a sleepy suguru.

it's not like he's not tired – he's fucking exhausted; the dreams just don't seem to like him all that much. but he's usually toughing it out, trying to seem as composed and put-together as possible. the dark skin underneath his eyes betray him, though.

so you don't really know why today is different. is he just more tired? have all of the sleepless hours caught up with him? or is it just you; could it be that your body is the most comfortable place to rest his heavy head? or is it your perfume that's soothing him to sleep?

or is it the fingers in his hair?

he doesn't really let others play with his hair too ofter either. satoru and shoko had been the only exceptions but that was before you came along. satoru uses his hair as a stim, something to play with when he's bored. suguru has taught him manners though – a few slaps against satoru's fingers and chest to remind him to be more careful. and shoko is just more likely to brush a strand from his eyes or help him tie them up in a half-assed bun whenever his own hands are full with whatever.

you like playing with hair, always have and always will. it's relaxing and it's fun and it's calming and you love it. when you first met suguru, his hair was the second thing you noticed about him (his keen purple eyes being the first). an irresistible itch burned in your fingertips everytime you saw him, everytime he wore his hair down. it just looked so pretty and soft.

he takes very good care of his hair, you know that much. specific shampoos and conditioners, masks and all – he's all in. and nobody bats an eye. not that they should but satoru definitely gets made fun of because of his stupidly expensive collection of figurines and shoko gets teased for her silly mug shelf – and yet, neither of them ever comment on the bottles and tubs of fancy products that lay on his bathroom counter.

his hair also smells good. the compliment always hangs on the tip of your tongue but stays hidden in fear of coming off too weird. too creepy. but he doesn smell good. even with closed eyes and ears and you'd find him in a crowd. you wonder whether he knows that.

as you grew closer and closer, the now scorching itch only doubled in need. you never did gather the strenght to outwardly ask him – if you could play with his hair? if you could caress it? comb through it? it was an accident.

a simple gloomy friday afternoon: you're both lazing on your couch, staring at the screen. it's funny – you find yourself muffling your already quiet bursts of laughter, suguru alongside you. he's sitting close by, closer than usual. you don't ask him about it.

he asked to come over; something-something about being sick of his own apartment. you understand that, so you tell him that your home is his home (you'd tell him that even if you didn't understand). you hear the faint smile when he thanks you over the phone.

even when he looks like he hasn't slept in months – he looks good. you can tell he's overexaggerating his smile a bit but don't say anything about it, rewarding him with a grin of your own. his eyes flick to your lips and how they curve and he thinks about how warm it feels to look at you. maybe he's not exaggerating anymore.

your arms open wide, inviting him into you and he obliges, as always. he smells good. as always.

his hands lock behind your back and your behind his neck. your hearts meet and they greet each other with a fastened beat, eager to be in sync – to feel each other again.

he pulls back and the corners of his eyes crinkle when he smiles. he's not doing it anymore and you're happy to relieve him even if it's for mere moments.

he's wearing a sweather and his hair is down. he has lip gloss on; you try to think whether he's more of a mint guy or more of a shea guy. it remains a mystery.

and now you're on the couch with two cups of warm tea waiting for you on the small table. he smells good. he's so close. he snickers at the screen and you can't take your eyes off of him. it's the same small crinkle of the eyes and the faintest pink tint on his cheeks.

you know he knows that you're looking at him. you've been told to have a staring problem and he's just an observant guy. it's a terrible match. or a perfect one.

he doesn't say anything though; instead he leans his head back and little to the side against the headrest (he's even closer now) and you find yourself shifting an inch aswell. perhaps magnets are involved? the iron in your blood pulling you together?

no, that can't be. you'd have to be polar opposites for that to work. warm-blooded and cold-blooded? would that work? you're getting too poetic and he's looking at you now.

it's an accident. it slips out on its own. you smell good. caught off guard by your own comment, you're about to apologize when a hand on your thigh almost makes you suffocate on the words stuck in your throat.

he laughs and it feels so good. he thanks you. he means it, you see it in his tired eyes. he likes the way you blush.

turning his focus back to the tv, you try to collect yourself. a deep breath in and a deep one out and a deep one in and a de—

a weight on your shoulder. he smells so good. he's so close. you peek down, curious as to whether this is a dream or not. but suguru's head is in fact laid on your body, sinking a bit more into you by the second. a deep breath in and a deep one out.

seeking for a more comfortable position, you snuggle closer to him. it's hard to focus but you're making it your sole mission to make him feel safe. your arm curls around his body, his shoulder, and rests right by a flock of his hair.

his cheek is now smushed against the top of your chest and the weight of love doesn't seem as bad as everyone keeps telling you. his hand finds a place around your waist; loosely – as if he's the one who's afraid to scare you off. silly.

his breath against you feels right and the butterflies in your stomach refuse to calm down. so you do what you always do when you get nervous – completely on their own, your fingers caress his hair. just smoothing over it at first but before you know it, they're combing through a strand and twirling the ends between themselves.

you wanna apologize, again, but the soft little grunt that emits from the man keeps you from doing so.

don't stop.

+ this is for @twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat just bc it feels right

[lucabyte]

I don't know how everyone isn't also always constantly thinking about how burial rites seem to be potentially one of the few things Siffrin instinctively remembers about their culture. But rest assured. I am in fact always thinking about it.

Textless version where they're just hanging out. It's fine!

[rosyhoneydew]

It happens often enough that it starts to get under his skin.

He and Tommy try to make it out to a date night at least once a week; as frequently as they can, with their schedules, but Buck doesn’t really notice it until the night they go to the Dodgers game. It was a Monday night so the crowd wasn’t too big, and the two of them had the night off. They’d Ubered over to the stadium, grabbed some foil wrapped hotdogs and made their way to their seats. He’s a tactile guy, so they hold hands as much as possible on the way in, and when they sit Buck slings an arm around Tommy, relishes the way Tommy leans into him.

There’d been a woman in the seat next to Tommy. She was pretty, and Buck kept noticing the way her eyes flicked to them, no to Tommy, throughout the game, a blush dusting her cheeks. She likes him, he realized. She wants to make a move on him.

It didn’t really make him jealous surprisingly, but it did make something else burn in his chest. Irritation, maybe. Because he’s not sure how much more obviously together they could’ve been, short of sticking his tongue down his boyfriend’s throat. But when she turned to Tommy and started up a conversation - are you a local? Oh maybe you could show me around sometime! - she looked genuinely shocked, almost admonished, when Tommy had replied, well my boyfriend here is usually the better tour guide.

“Oh I’m so sorry I didn’t realize you were together!”

Then he thought about the last time they went to Nobu, and the aquarium, and grocery shopping at Sprouts.

Will anyone else be joining you gentlemen?

Do you want us to take your photo? Are your girlfriends around?

Here’s my number, a flirtatious hand on Buck’s arm.

In the grand scheme of things, it’s not a big deal. But it grates on Buck’s nerves, the way they have to keep correcting people. When they started dating, he’d readied himself for whatever kind of reaction the public could have to the two of them (they’re in LA, but he knew Tommy had had not so pleasant interactions even here). He hadn’t anticipated that others might not perceive them as a couple at all.

He pouted about it that night, and Tommy smiled sweetly at Buck and reassured him it’s okay. And it is. There are so many other problems they could be worried about. It’s just that Tommy is sweet and hot and Buck wants everyone to know he’s his.

It’s what makes their next trip so perfect. They get a room at a B&B in Provincetown and spend a long weekend on the coast.

It’s like being in another world.

You two are such a lovely couple!

How long have you been together?

Would you two like to see our spa offerings? We have couples massages!

Buck cheerfully jumps in, overeager and so thrilled to gush about their relationship to anyone who asks. He must tell the story of how they met 50 different times throughout the weekend.

Tommy, for his part, smiles while Buck chats away, a light blush on the tops of his cheeks, and a hand on Buck’s thigh.

They leave on a Monday, but the floaty, fluttery feeling the weekend leaves them with lasts much longer than the trip.

[dapper-lil-arts]

Fanart of one of my fave moments of a fic i read and love, "Can you see what i see?" It's just comical to me that Sunset is out here being a chick magnet, utterly oblivious to it. Good for her good for her!!! Writer is @averydays ! Thanks for writing awesomeness =v=

[gentlebeard]

If I could hold you for a minute, Darling, I’d go through it again

For @edsbacktattoo & @stedesearring 💕 Show: Our Flag Means Death - Season 1 & 2 Music: Francesca by Hozier YouTube

[ozonecologne]

rereading some of my favorite classic fan fics and again just so struck by the fact that mainstream fiction could never give me what you people give me every day for FREE. you're all the exact level of poetic and deranged that i'm endlessly searching for. no one is doing it like fic writers.

[lawva-girl]

silly draft i forgor to post:

Law being such a nerd he sometimes just stares at his figures/memorabilia, you’ll find him from time to time doing so

Maybe !!! You find him and reach up to his shoulders, he always jumps just a bit

But you continue, grabbing his shoulders and gently squeezing, trying to get his stubborn muscles to relax.

Law doesn’t exactly acknowledge you, at least not with words. He’ll sigh and lean a tiny bit into your hands, to attempt to let you know he likes it.

The first couple of times you thought he wanted to push you away, so you would retreat and drop it.

but one day law started staring at his figures, and you walked in. you didnt come close, since you wanted to respect his space.

but law grumbled, turned to you, and said "my shoulders hurt."

you just stared back at him, unsure of why he would sudden- oh

you laughed a little, to his protest, and walked over to start massaging his shoulders.

he stopped whatever mumbling had been going on and sighed in relief, saying how he felt like a kid throwing a fit.

you chuckle, and answer with something about how he was acting like a kid.

but every time he stared at his collections, or you wrote in your journal, you both were there.

rubbing each others shoulders :D

[brianmaysclog]

figured I should hop onto the Richboy! Gojo trend i’ve been seeing!

warnings: blood, period. afab reader.

a/n: not proofread lol. wrote this when my phone was at 10% so a bit rushed. had this idea for a while. Richboy! Gojo drinks nothing but respect y/n juice everyday.

Richboy! Gojo who has had his eye on you for months.

Richboy Gojo! whom you can’t stand because he’s entitled and gets whatever he wants.

Richboy! Gojo who practically begs you to go out with him! just one date and he’ll stop. and to get him to shut up, you say yes. to one date.

The day of the date comes and your stomach hurts but you figured it was just nerves.

Richboy! Gojo who picks you up right on time. Not a minute early, not a minute late. He takes you to the destination. The mall. You figured it was so he can flaunt off his money, but really it’s to get to know you. What you like and don’t like. Ideas for future gifts and surprises.

Now your stomach really hurts. Really, really hurts. You excuse yourself to the restroom and rush there. To no avail, there’s blood. Enough to seep through the pants you’re wearing. great.

you have no idea how you’re going to get out of this and how you’re gonna cover this up.

You must have been there a while because eventually Richboy! Gojo comes knocking on the door. “y/n? is everything okay.”

you could tell him to screw off and leave you alone but he’s your only way out. You open up the door. “Go-“ but you don’t get many words out because Richboy! Gojo has already looked down and seen the stain on your pants.

“stay here. don’t leave. i’ll be right back.” and with that he grabs the door shut.

it’s been 30 minutes, an hour maybe when finally you hear a knock on the door. “y/n? can i come in?”

you get up and unlock the door and let him in. Richboy! Gojo walks in with multiple bags in hand.

“okay for starters I didn’t know if you used cups, pads, or tampons so I got a box of each.” he hands them to you and continues on. Then I went around to multiple stores and found you some new underwear too. Grabbed a few pairs for you too because I wasn’t sure what you preferred.” He then hands you a Victorias Secret bag. “then I stopped by another store selling leggings and got you, again a few pairs in different styles and sizes. Anything that doesn’t fit we can just return.” He hands you the last bag and gets ready to walk out, but before doing so, tunes back towards you.

“Oh yeah I got you these too, just incase you’re cranking.” He tosses you a bottle of Tylenol and leaves the bathroom. You sort through the bags and grab what you need.

Once dressed Richboy! Gojo takes the remainder of the bags (bloodied clothes tossed into a bag you had emptied). “I can take these to the car, and then we can continue on here. Or we can leave. it’s up to you.”

“I don’t care.” warming up to this Gojo. who isn’t as consisted and spoiled as you thought. “as long as it’s with you.”

[somegrumpynerd]

(talking about your new post)

I expected Blue and ink , BUT DREAM?????

I DIDN'T EXPECT HIM TO DO THAT

(Of course considering if they even knew they were getting ambushed, but if none of them knew that the MTT was there it is also very funny )

(The post in question)

Yeah when I wrote it I was thinking of them accidentally decimating the MTT boys while trying to get away but @bobateaboo had tags about the stars not even realising they were there and just knocking them out and it was way funnier lol

(But also, I think Dream should get to choose violence every once in a while. as a treat)

[spectrecowboy]

this is fanart for @secondstar-acorn 's absolutely lovely university of westchesterverse !!! I can't get it out of my head (and yall should very much go check it out)

I just know this guy enjoys a holiday model train display....

(also hi hello, I commented on your fic as aaaaavengers <3)

[evelyn-and-art]

TORSO STUDIES (extras): Kotoha, Shizuka, Tsubakino and Endo

Art Studies with Eve #2

The studio welcomes three lovely queens 🫶

...and a snake 😕

And that completes the torso studies! Thank you for the positive feedback on the first part and for waiting for this one 🫶.

Part 1

[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

[dollypopup]

Truly one of the most subtly hilarious moments of the season was when Colin saw ink all over Penelope's hands and went 'oh, what's this about?' and she went 'uh. . .I was writing letters?'

Miss Ma'am, to whomst? You don't have any friends you'd have to write to?? You don't like your family????

You know Colin was a smitten kitten indeed because he just went 'huh, makes sense, okay' instead of going 'but your only friend lives across the street and now I'm right here?'

[giggly-squiggily]

Hi hello I work this weekend and I'm beyond over it but here's a quick tododeku dabble cause the new episode made me ugly cry and Lee!Todoroki makes me feel better <3

CW: Foot Tickles, very very mild suggestive humor

Todoroki was going to die. No, really- he was!

Hiding in the first closet he found, he held his breath in wait- his heart racing a mile a minute. It was so loud he was sure his pursuer was using it to track him.

The thought alone was nearly enough to make him laugh- he bit his lip to keep down the giggles.

“Shooootooo!” The voice was close. Todoroki straightened up, freezing all over with his hands clamped to his lips. He heard footsteps coming closer, the sound of soft laughter muffled by the door. When they suddenly stopped, he nearly gasped.

Then, they kept on walking.

Todoroki didn’t move- stiff as a statue as he waited. He waited until he couldn’t hear the footsteps any longer, until the anticipation in his bones yielded enough to return feeling to his limbs. Then, and only then did he open the door and look.

The dorm hall was empty. The background was filled with sounds of his fellow classmates in various rooms going about their day. He listened for a moment longer.

Nothing. The coast seemed to be clear. He dashed out as silently as he could, running for the safety of his room-

Something slithered around his ankle. Black Whip- Midoriya’s additional quirk. He was down and out in seconds.

“Nooo!” He cried out, already laughing as he was dragged across the floor. “Don’t! Please! Have mercy on me!”

“Mercy is for the weak!” Midoriya cried back, his villain facade fading with his own giggles as Todoroki clawed at the floor. The whole gesture reminded him of a reluctant cat. “Beg all you want- you belong to me now!”

“That doesn’t sound too bad thou-AHH!” Todoroki let out a shriek when he was finally within Midoriya’s reach, his boyfriend scoping up his ankle with ease. “Waahhahit nohohohot thahahhat!”

“Huh?” Do that” you said?” He cooed, slowly dragging his fingers against Todoroki’s socked sole. “Eager aren’t we? If you wanted me to tickle you this bad, you could have just stayed put! Very well then- tickle tickle tickle!”

Todoroki could only thrash about on the floor, his laughter taking a new pitch as he struggled to grab at Midoriya’s hands. “Dohohohoohn’t yoohhoohu dhahahahare! Gehahahahahha, cohohohome ohohohohn!” He let out a small squeal when Midoriya focused on a particularly bad spot along the base of his toes, nearly making him slam his head into the floor with how much he squirmed. “Mihihihidoriya, pleahhahahahase!”

“Hehe, you look like a fish! It’s like I’m wrangling in the catch of the day!” The green haired hero laughed as he took a seat, Todoroki’s foot still trapped in his grasp as he watched the other flail and cackle. Seeing him smiling so suddenly gave him a terrible idea.

“Somewhere, beyond the sea,” He began to sing.

“DOOHOHOOHN’T YOOHOHOHOU DAHHAHAHRE!” Todoroki cackled, pounding the ground beneath him as he struggled between hiding his flushed face or kicking at the other with his free foot. “HHAHAHHAHVE MEHEHEHRCY!”

“Someone is waiting for meeee~” Deku drew out the notes as he skittered his fingers up his boyfriend’s foot with a flourish, melting at the hiccupy laughs he produced. “And I forgot the rest of the wooooords~” He gave the trapped foot within his grasp one last tickle before releasing him, crawling up his tired frame and coming to a stop at his exhausted but oh so lovely smile. “Something something, I love you. That’s how the song goes, right?”

“Eheheheheh..hehehee..suhuhure. Let’s go with thahaht..” Todoroki groaned, running a hand through his messy bangs as he struggled for composure. When he could finally catch a breath, he glared halfheartedly up at his smiling boyfriend. “You’re terrible- who hooks someone in with their quirk and tickles their feet like that?”

“I do!” Midoriya laughed openly, making Todoroki giggle as well. “I should go fishing more often- I caught myself one heck of a beauty!”

“So you did. Bet you can’t wait to show off to the guys what you reeled in.”

“Heck no- they can go eat fish sticks out of the freezer. I already told you- you’re all mine.” Midoriya leaned in, kissing him slowly and gently- just the way he liked it. Todoroki could feel his heart racing, warmth spreading through his core and making his toes curl. Oh how he loved the way Midoriya kissed him.

“We should go somewhere. Before someone interrupts.” He somehow managed to gasp out when they pulled away- his brain and lips suddenly working far slower than he’d like.

“Sure. Your room or mine?” When did Midoriya get this bold? He could feel his entire face burn brightly at the question, worsening when the little bastard smiled knowingly. “You’re so pretty when you blush, Shoto.”

“I’m gonna dump ice down your back if you keep acting up.” Todoroki threatened, once again unable to hold on to any real glare as he was swept off his feet, carried away to whichever room Midoriya picked. “You’re lucky I love you- else I’d turn you into a human ice sculpture.”

The green haired teen merely leaned in and kissed him again, that warm feeling coming back like a cozy blanket on a chilly day. “I love you too.”

Thanks for reading! :D

[aromanticannibal]

while I see the appeal of izuku calling kacchan katsuki I think if he does katsuki should be allowed to burst into tears immediately