#i offer sos angst

[priintiisor]

merry christmas!!!! i bring angst

i finished this at 1am today!! wasn t gonna post it today but it is sliver of straw s fandom decided birthday today so. it s kind of in theme i guess? enjoy

[gomzdrawfr]

Merry Christmas!! they're exchanging gifts by the tree :3

[naycelium]

Patch offers 3 Purification Disks in trade, what will you offer? 🐁 💾

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

Danny couldn't really explain why he always answered this specific summoning ritual. It was like a feeling. One of warmth. Of a mug of hot cocoa in your hands and a nice weighted blanket dropped around your shoulders as a fire blazed in the hearth in front of you, keeping the chill in the rest of the room at bay.

Danny always lost himself in the sensation and found himself back in that stupid circle of protection with that same wierd guy demanding answers. But Danny didn't know anything about a "Lazarus Pit" or a "Pit Madness" let alone a cure for it. Even if he did he wasn't going to tell Red Robin anything after all the times he'd used the marriage summoning spell to get him here.

Earlier on Red had explained it was the only spell known to thier universe that could summon an entity from "The Lazarus Dimension" Which he guessed was another name for the ghost zone and Phantom was the only one to ever be summoned.

Danny couldn't help but wonder why...

After escaping Bird boy and his supernatural pop quiz (oh look, another test for him to flunk) he returns home only to discover his parents had seen him get summoned and accused him of being a ghost that replaced thier baby boy.

Naturalally the next time Red Robin had summoned Phantom he was angry. He was tired and dirty from being on the run from his parents, his worlds US government, and Vlad. Not to mention his own rogues gallery didn't exactly cut him any slack.

So Danny decided that if Red Robin wanted to abuse the power of a marriage ritual than the very least he can do is put his money where his mouth is.

Danny grinned and exited the magic circle, taking delight in Reds widening eyes before he lunged. A kiss sealed the deal, making sure Danny had a safeish place to stay.

After all, married couples in the infinite realms were obligated and even compelled to protect and care for eachother.

[little-pondhead]

The Curse Of Hope

_

Danny is in another universe. He had a reason, but he doesn’t remember anymore. He can only stare, horrified and disgusted, at the sickest city spirit he’s ever seen. Shivering and swaying with every step, core exposed, and ectoplasm leaking from wounds that are decades old. A ratty blanket was thrown over their shoulders, barely hiding the spirit’s pale grey skin and protruding black bones.

The spirit didn’t even sense him until he reached out to touch its wispy shoulders. The spirit flinched, clutching at the dozens of trinkets hanging from their neck and tucking in on themselves like they were expecting a blow.

“Oh, shit,” He swore, floating back a few feet, hands in the air, to show he meant no harm. “I’m sorry. I promise, I’m not here to steal from you.” The spirit shivered again and rolled a pearl necklace in between their fingers. A nervous habit. “Uh, I like that pocket watch? It’s very nice.”

That got their attention. They peeked at Danny, and he saw that more tattered cloth was covering their eyes, blending in with the stringy hair that reached the ground. Their blanket fluttered weakly, revealing hundreds of thousands of tiny marks etched into their skin. Scars, really. Scars that wrote out curse after curse onto the spirit’s very being. They burned with evil intent, and even reached inside the spirit’s body and wrapped around their core.

Occasionally, blinding specks of color raced across their body, temporarily erasing the writing, but it always returned quickly. He watched, a little detached, as one particular line rewrote itself across their rough forearm, drawing fresh ectoplasm like someone was writing it with a thin knife.

“Are you…alright?” Danny stuttered. A stupid question.

The spirit cocked its head. He couldn’t see their eyes, but he felt their burning gaze as they pondered the question.

“The pain of others becomes mine own.” They rasped. “The lights of the city dim as rotten wealth clogs mine veins. Magicks long forgotten have eaten mine skins, pulled mine cloak, and darkened mine skies. Helios has refused to grace mine doorstep, and the seasons of the Earth have revoked their kindness.”

Danny held his breath. It felt like he was the one with the exposed core, not the spirit.

The spirit shivered once more. “Tell mine soul, little lamb. How could this Forsaken City know peace, when it was long since ripped from mine hands?”

Shit, he needed Frostbite. And maybe Clockwork. Now.

-Or-

Danny meets the spirit of Gotham City. The villains and rogues that have plagued the city for decades are literal curses that are taking quite the toll on Gotham, and honestly, Danny isn’t sure how much longer they can hold out. The heroes seem to be doing some help, and are probably the reason Gotham made it this far, but the poor city needs help from the Realms if they want to get better.

Luckily, Danny can provide that help.

But only if he could get Gotham to leave their city behind. Because recovery is going to take a very long time.

[chyarui]

What happens when padawan quin miraculously comes back from a shadow mission gone wrong…

More quinobi, now with a side of angst!!

And look, I adore quinlans locks, but sometimes sacrifices must be made for the plot (I will not ask for forgiveness)

although most of his beautiful hair clasps are gone, at least obi was able to hold onto one for him (what he thought was likely the last piece of quin he had left) 💔

[junosmindpalace]

His head aches directing his eyes toward the doorway, but Senku does anyway to get a glimpse at your figure.

Your fierce expression tells him you refuse to get any closer, as if punishment for the suffering he subjected himself on the dock of the Perseus just a few hours ago. Senku had caught a glimpse of you at the far back of the crowd when the crew had rushed him in from further ambush.

He remembers pain, a lot of it, Luna tending to him, and various members coming both to check on his condition and to receive instruction and advice. He’s found himself with a rare moment of true quiet and space for himself. Until you appeared, that was;

Angrier than he ever expected to see, yet he immediately knows why. The realization makes a frown settle over his own features, and he doesn’t dare break away from your tense gaze.

You strode towards him suddenly, hand slowly coming up in the air as if to punch him, tell him off with a disapproving finger, do something to express your fear and anger toward him for his stunt. All he did was stare with his mouth firmly planted in a deep frown, not wavering in his expression for a second even when you stopped suddenly by his side, keeping your hand in the air and staring at him with a fury hardly being kept in check. His stare almost challenged you to try and retort against the sacrifice he made, and oh how it made you wanna—

But then you sighed. Stepped back. Lowered your arm back to your side. Your brows creased upward in distress, and, oh, no, was your bottom lip quivering?

“You’re an asshole.”

“Well, isn’t that a pleasant way to greet a friend?”

“You shut up with that, I thought you—“

You halted your words, turning your back toward him as horrified eyes stared forward in an attempt to steel yourself. A hand ran down your face, stopping at your mouth. What a horrifying sight that was. Not even a sign of warning.

“C’mon,” he wheezed out with a slight upward curl of his lip. “I thought you knew me better than that.”

Yet the silence his remark was met with brought his lips back to a frown, a more melancholic expression. He called out your name and was met with nothing.

“I braced myself: what more could I have done?”

And you know he’s right. He’s being realistic. You have no right lashing out so aggressively toward him. If anything, you should be praising his bravery, his sharp thinking, his ability to still uphold witty banter with you in the state he’s in. But you can’t. Not when your racing heart hasn’t settled it’s violent thrumming against your ribcage, bruising it and your mental sanity, since the shot rang out. Not since you saw the blood spill out of him. Not since you saw the intense look of pain on his face.

So for now, you hate him for it. For all of it. Even though it wasn’t his fault. He anticipated it at least, so you hate him for it.

He calls for you again.

And finally, you look over your shoulder, eyes glassy and expression fierce. The sight makes Senku want to shiver.

“I did…what needed to be done…” he starts gently. “It’s up to you guys now. And I’ll help where I can.”

Ever the efficient one, that Senku. How it could infuriate you like nothing else. You would think him made of steel at times with the way seemingly nothing fazed him. But with the way you saw his blood pour out from him so quickly, the anguish on his face, it reminded you that he was more human than anyone you’ve ever met. So passionate, so full of life. Nearly childlike in the way he winced as every uncomfortable stir and breath he in and exhaled.

The tension in your face dropped. Senku’s own expression perked up, but mostly stayed firm as you approached him tiredly, pulling up the chair by his bed and taking a seat, hands hesitating as they reached for his.

He stared down at the space in between them, and then back at you just in time for you to raise your own exhausted gaze toward him. Don’t you dare push me away, they pleaded with him.

A little knock of his knuckles against yours gave you the permission you were looking for, and your carefully took his limp hand in both of yours, holding them gently. He chuckled a little as he stared upward, while your gaze remained steady on the bed, and offered a small squeeze in return, which in turn relaxed the tension in your shoulders.

Things were okay between you two. Things would be okay. The sentiment didn’t need to be voiced aloud.

[da-birb-writes-sometimes]

hi dove!!! i love your new event, the vibe is so fun and relaxing (⁠つ⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)⁠つ could i request floyd with no.8? for backups maybe leona with no.9 or jamil with no.2? thanks!! as always don't overwork yourself ꒰⁠⑅⁠ᵕ⁠༚⁠ᵕ⁠꒱⁠˖⁠♡

side note: pls no angst the pain from last time is still here(�� ⁠；⁠∀⁠；⁠)

Fairytale Scene; Leona Kingscholar

Content; Fluff, gender-neutral reader, some really soft Leona

Word Count; 650+

Author's Note; Had to use your first backup, as Floyd got snatched up, but I hope you enjoy this fluffy scene and soft lion! [Damn, those eels go fast]

As a reminder, do not put my work — or others for that matter — into AI as it steals. Link to Masterlist

An old vinyl was playing slowly on the record player, a slow jazz ensemble letting out low notes. It was pleasant, the calm music mixing with the gentle crashing of the waves coming onto shore, and the filtered sunlight coming through the linen curtains and warming up your skin. There was no rushing, no tasks that needed to be urgently done, and no one to boss you around. You could definitely get used to this. 

“You’re looking right at home there,” a soft chuckle broke you from your relaxed spell. Leona was standing in front of you, giving you a curious look. “Like a house cat sunbathing.”

You rolled your eyes, “Fitting coming from you.” You stretched out, and rolled off of the chaise you were lounging on. 

Leona sighed in mock annoyance, but he could get used to seeing you without the weight of all your responsibilities resting on your shoulders. You looked — and by all the lounging you had been doing since you had both arrived — and felt lighter as well. And in the golden sunlight? Leona swore that you were glowing.

You lazily walked over to him, placing your arms around his neck. “Is something bothering you?”

Bothering me? “No, nothing at the moment,” he said quietly. What was there to be bothered by? The two of you were together, and there was no one around to annoy the both of you. “And you?”

You hummed along to the song playing, “Nope!~” You let out a breathy chuckle and started to gently sway back and forth to the music. “Would you care to join me for this dance… your majesty?~” 

Leona groaned at the nickname; you only brought it out when you were feeling teasing. He didn’t mind though, since it didn’t hold the weight it did at the palace, or the mocking tone that others sometimes used. You just were being a teasing menace and a cute one at that.

Letting out a showy sigh he adjusted your hands so that he was holding one and the other was placed on his waist. “I suppose I can spare one for you,” he said lowly, voice barely above a grumble. 

The two of you swayed gently together to the soft music, gentle swaying, and long, slow, looping circles around the room. You were still humming the non-existent lyrics to the song, and Leona hummed softly from time to time as well, adding to the melody. Never did he think that he would end up in such a scene; dancing with someone he loved so dearly in something that he could only explain as a fairytale scene. It was soft, domestic, tender, and filled with such innocent love. All things that Leona had convinced himself that he didn’t want. But then you came into his life. You threw a wrench into his life, but what a lovely wrench it turned out to be.

The song came to an end far too soon, and the two of you came to a slow standstill, still in each other’s loose embrace. Neither of you made a move to let go, instead you both just stood there, hand in hand, your hand on his waist, and his on yours.

“You make for a good dance partner,” you chuckle.

Leona raised a brow, “And are you surprised by that?”

You bring his hand to your lips, placing a kiss on the inside of his wrist while looking at him through your lashes. “No, it’s just endearing is all.”

Leona had received kisses from you before, both soft and passionate, but this one actually made his heart flutter. He didn’t know how to feel about it, but he did know that the way you looked at him just then… he wanted you to look at him with such adoration again and again and again. It was addictive.

He brought your hand to his lips, and returned the kiss, letting it linger so he could feel your steady pulse. Perhaps the two of you should come out here more often if this was what happened… Leona could spend the rest of his life with you in this picturesque moment.

~~~~~~~

Tags: @eynnwwyjth, @inkybloom-luv, @leonistic, @savanaclaw1996, @twistwonderlanddevotee, @xxoomiii

[cravingforsweetsbooksandpurpose]

Currently thinking of an Angel AU where Sanji is one of Cupid's angels for the past 800 years. He makes people fall in love. And for angels of love to ascend, reincarnate or reborn they're given specific clients that he needs to fall in love.

But he has a problem. A mold problem. He only has one client left that he needs to fall in love. And it's the lone wandering swordsman with an odd memorable green hair. And no matter what Sanji does. No matter who he matches the swordsman with as every new lifetime pass, the man just never falls.

And so, as Sanji begrudgingly stands on the swordsman's grave alone, he swore that on the man's next life (11th) he will make him fall in love by hook or by crook.

[skitskatdacat63]

His bullfighting days aren't over quite yet.

+

[actual-changeling]

ellie learns how to draw, and, if she might say so herself, gets pretty damn good at it, especially faces. it helps her ground herself to see happy memories physically stare back at her from her sketch book, her walls, the fridge, and wherever else joel puts up her drawings. he loves all of them, even the very first ones that aren't much more than vaguely human scribbles.

the first year in jackson is a pain, and she spends most of it holed up in their house, drawing, painting (she has no idea where joel gets all the paint from and he refuses to tell her), and once they make it through their first winter together, she feels comfortable enough to show them to other people, too. mostly tommy and maria, and in a weak moment she even gifts them a drawing she made of them and their baby.

she's over at their house a lot, it's a lot more lived in and settled than theirs but they're working on it, and notices some actual pictures, the kind you take with a camera, decorating the living room. it's obvious that they're prized possessions, framed and front and center on the walls. a handful of them show maria and what must have been her family before the outbreak, others are newer. jackson does have some cameras saved for special events, and there are two pictures of them on their wedding day, and even one from a few days after the baby was born.

she doesn't think much of it until their second summer in jackson when she notices the way joel stares at the baby pictures and realizes that all he has to remember sarah by is the broken watch on his wrist. the only tangible memory and it's one of pain and death.

ellie mulls over it a lot, it keeps her up at night and while joel picks up on it, he doesn't press the issue when she refuses to talk about it, though she assures him she's fine.

it takes her another two weeks after her realization to catch tommy alone one afternoon with joel safely away on patrol, oddly nervous and unsure how to phrase what she wants to ask. eventually she manages to explain her idea and the positively soft, distantly heartbroken look he gives her makes her breath catch in her throat.

do you think he would be okay with it?

i think he would love it, sweetheart.

they sit together for hours in his kitchen, ellie is determined to make it look exactly right and urges tommy to not hold back his criticism if something isn't accurate, and by the end, they have missed dinner and her wrist hurts like hell, fingers stained with pencil lead and color, but her chest is brimming with a warm sense of accomplishment.

tommy gives her a frame and she wraps it as well as she knows how to. he insists that she gives it to him alone, but ellie draws him into an uncharacteristically tight hug before she leaves and hides her smile in his chest when he presses a hesitant kiss to her hair. family, she realizes, is pretty damn great.

the waiting is the hardest part. she puts her gift on the coffee table and paces the living room for at least half an hour while she waits for joel to return from his patrol, switching between chewing her lips and biting her nails. by the time he finally walks through the door, she has almost convinced herself to abandon the whole thing and just pretend it never happened, but then joel's there, gaze immediately softening when he sees her, and suddenly she can't wait to give it to him. it's a pretty big frame and the best paper she owns, rivaling some of her larger paintings on actual canvas, and joel has to sit down to open it without running the risk of accidentally dropping it.

i hope you like it.

the quiet tremor in her voice makes him stop halfway through unwrapping it, but she just gestures for him to continue, rocking on her feet.

tommy helped.

when the last of the paper falls away and joel sees her work for the very first time, they both hold their breath at once, even the summer breeze stilling, air brimming with something neither of them have the words for.

joel is looking at a vibrant water color painting of sarah, face at a soft angle as she wonders at a small purple butterfly resting on her finger, hand raised in front of her, eyes and smile shining brighter than the sun, hair a shimmering cloud of brown and gold. a frozen moment in time, sarah forever fourteen, capturing the love ellie feels pouring out of joel whenever he talks about her, a wave of affection and distilled joy that makes her miss a person she has never known.

i thought you might want a happy memory of her to look at, too.

ellie points at his watch, broken glass fracturing the light falling in, hand shaking.

i hope it's okay that i- if you don't want it-

joel's arms are around her before she can finish, cutting off her stuttered attempts, frame safe on the table as he hugs her so tightly her feet lift off the floor and she clings to his neck, relief bringing air back to her lungs. he holds her with his face buried in her hair, and ellie only notices he is crying when she can feel a few stray tears run down her neck. when he sets her down again, eyes glassy even after he dries his cheeks, her knees buckle under his gaze. they're both bad with feelings, bad with words, love shown through touch and gestures, through don't forget to eat, i'll stay with you until you fall asleep, fresh cups of coffee left on his nightstand before she leaves for school, hands searching for each other in the crowd again and again and again, never letting go.

love brought to life by a painting of the daughter that taught him how to be a father, made by the one that helped him find his way back to the light.

thank you, ellie.

they both know it means i love you, too, sarah immortalized on their living room wall where the morning sun illuminates her face with every sunrise.

more rambles in the tags

[matchbet-allofthetime]

Sobbing in bed because I'm writing a Ulysses fic and I'm caught between him killing the Courier because they are willfully giving up all the people they love and all the good they've done in the Mojave and he wanted them dead and gone-

And him just telling them they don't belong in the Divide with him. Not them, not their soft heart.

"You need to go home," Ulysses would say.

The courier would just laugh.

"Go home, Courier," they mumble. "Your signs. I have them all marked on my Pip-Boy. I don't even know why, but I mark all of the ones I find."

They traverse the Divide KNOWING Ulysses will kill them.

They take off their armour and keep only their finest, best combat knife and a gun on them with enough ammo to get them to Ulysses and to give him a third bullet to put in their skull alongside the two from Benny.

They offer him their knife, their gun, and the option for him to kill them with his bare hands.

Willingly. Selflessly. Painfully.

"I could never hate you, Ulysses. Not for this, never for this. I will never be mad at you for this."

And he's caught.

They're a godsend to this place, so much good they've done.

Does he kill them? Or does he bridge the Divide?

Maybe they go home. Maybe he kills them.

And maybe, after everyone back home knows they're okay... Maybe they do belong here, in the Divide, with Ulysses.

[waitineedaname]

the experience of writing fic for svsss has been absolutely insane so far. I posted a fic less than 24 hours ago and it already has twenty comments. I have been in so many fandoms where you have to BEG to get comments, where you'd be lucky to get more than ten comments and the ratio between hits and kudos/comments/bookmarks was vast, but so far the scum villain fandom has been super responsive! The hits/kudos/comments/bookmarks ratios have been super tight, even on my fics which have all been oneshots under 10k!

And it's not just me! I regularly see fanart for svsss fics, which was a rare sight in a lot of other fandoms I've been in. People reblog minifics that get posts to tumblr and leave tags and replies on them. I've written for a lot of fandoms in my time, and this a shocking amount of fic engagement compared to many other fandoms I've been in!!

I can't help but wonder if it's because of the nature of scum villain itself? Other people have talked about how the story uniquely appeals to writers, and it ultimately is about the relationship between a writer and reader, especially in a fan space. I can't help but wonder if the combination of this being a fandom with a high density of writers and it being a story about engaging with writing encourages a fandom culture that is super engaged with fanfiction!

[unnonexistence]

does anyone know what cities newt and hermann are living in during uprising?

[little-pondhead]

Danny moved to Gotham.

Freakshow is touring in Gotham.

Freakshow knows Danny is in Gotham.

Danny knows Freakshow is still after him.

Danny's faith in heroes has been shattered.

Danny turns to the only person powerful enough to run Freakshow out of town, hopefully for good.

Danny turns to the Joker for help.

The Joker is looking for a new punching bag sidekick after Harley Quinn left him.

Danny is just the perfect person to be shaped by the Joker's hands.

Danny becomes the new Joker Junior.

[catboyidia]

post noctis’ death prompto would still insist on spending noct’s birthday with him, so he would go to noct’s grave with a small cake and candle for him and celebrate noct’s birthday as if he was still alive. he would tell stories of how him and the other chocobros are doing and he would leave flowers and a big bundle of photos he took of him and the bros as gifts for noct, praying that they can somehow reach noct