#is it fake though?

[sunnynwanda]

Wedding date

Part 2    Part 3    Part 4

“Please, please, can you go with me to my cousin's wedding?" 

Hero'd be lying if they said they didn't like the pleading look on Villain's face. Or the way their voice went up a couple octaves. Hero'd sure prefer the situation to be different. Something related but not limited to the bedroom. Definitely not on top of a moving train that they were trying to stop from getting hijacked. 

And that Villain was, in fact, hijacking. 

"You're joking, right?" Hero manages to block Villain's attack, sending an incredulous look their way. "And if you're not, how is hijacking a train a good way to invite someone to a wedding?” 

“Yeah, sorry 'bout that,” their archnemesis smiles sheepishly, rubbing the back of their neck. “But we don't really meet under better circumstances, do we?”

Villain's justification is true, Hero has to admit it. Nothing surprising there, given that their Villain is the ‘intellectual kind’. That’s what they prefer to be called. Hero’d say “smartass’, but who’s asking. 

“Please help me just this once.” The way they drag their vowels catches Hero off guard. Are they... are they nervous? Now that they are thinking about it, Villain has avoided their gaze throughout the fight. 

“Why?” Hero asks, struggling to hide their curiosity. What started off as another Friday morning with the usual shenanigans of their rival is turning into something fun. “Why do you need me to go with you?”

“Well…” Villain trails off, so distracted that they almost hit their head on the railroad sign that the train’s passing under. Hero barely has time to pull them down to their knees on the train roof, face to face with them.

“Villain, if I'm going to help you,” upon noticing the excited expression on Villain’s face, Hero pauses. “And don't get all hopeful, I said 'if'... but if I’m going to help you, I need to know why I'm doing that.”

“But you're considering it, right?” The look in their eyes is hopeful beyond imagination. Hero nods with a chuckle. 

For some unfathomable reason, this leaves Villain frozen in place, an intense inner conversation evident in their features. Hero waits for several moments before concluding. “We're nearing the station, so you better spill.”

“Ugh, fine.” Before Villain has even uttered anything, Hero knows they’ll do it. The pink staining Villain’s ears is worth all the trouble that might ensue. “My grandma's gonna be there.”

“So?” Hero prompts, not satisfied with the sparse explanation. Their nemesis squeezes their eyes shut, a blush creeping up their exposed neck. Even if Hero was considering mercy, they sure can’t stop now, not when Villain looks like that. “Isn't your grandma a retired supervillain?”

“So, she's been pestering me to date for ages now, and I can't endure that conversation again.” Hero blinks. Then blinks again. They heard that right, didn’t they? 

“Erm… am I correct in assuming you want me to pretend to be your date?” Villain could as well rival a tomato at this point. And would perhaps win in the category of evenness and colour.  

“Yes?” Their voice is small when they speak, eyes unable to land on anything, partly because Hero’s frame is blocking anything else they could look at. Hero laughs lightly, shaking their head with the widest smile possible. Villain looks up, scandalized. “Hey, if you're gonna make fun of me, forget I asked.”

“No, no, I’m sorry,” Hero legitimately panics, shaking their head to indicate they weren’t laughing at Villain. Well, they were, but it was affection more than anything else. “I'll go.”

“Oh uh okay,” Villain’s grin threatens to rip their face in half. Hero can bet theirs is matching. “Then, I'll let you know the date and location?”

“Yeah,” they can’t help but notice the shake in their own voice as Villain gets to their feet, preparing to leave. The train is slowing down.

“And, um,” Villain starts but is distracted by Hero, who’s still kneeling on the train roof. The people at the station can probably see them, but who cares? Definitely not Hero. Villain dips their head to conceal the smile tugging at the corners of their mouth. “Thank you.”

Hero nods, considering something for a moment, before calling out. “Hey, Villain?”

“Mhm?” Villain stops by the edge, looking back over their shoulder.

“It's a date.” Villain is dumbfounded and at a loss for words, so they try to jump off to avoid replying to that statement. Hero can’t help the smirk that spreads on their face when Villain all but falls off the train, graceful as ever. Dancing with this dumbass is going to be fun.

Part 2    Part 3    Part 4

Masterlist

[egophiliac]

everyone out of the way, this is the only thing I'm going to be thinking about from now on.

(okay, there is one more thing)

[puppyeared]

renaissance dogys

characters belong to @canisalbus

[citrenecult]

Drew the Lamb, Narinder, and the Follower Bishops.

Some close ups.

[isimp4shrimp]

Dnd gang as that olympics shooting meme (one of the squads of all time truly)

Template under the cut

[livingfictionsystem]

Imagine if people talked about multi-person households with the same thick-headed skepticism they use to talk about systems.

"You're telling me you're not the only one in there? Like if I knock, someone else could answer, and I'm supposed to call them a new name and everything? But it'll look like the same house? Yeah, okay. 🤣"

"Your roommate's name is ____? That's a dumb name, why did you choose that?"

"You bought your roommate a present? You mean you got it for yourself, right?'

"You put up that poster? Oh, I'm sorry, your 'roommate' did. 🙄"

"Roommates? You sure you don't want to check if your house is just haunted?"

-Xhaxhollari 🕊

[radiance1]

This post except that Danny and Jason don't stop fake dating. It is very convenient for the both of them actually.

Danny gets to respond to his parents whenever they ask about his boyfriend or whenever they make surprise visits to Gotham for one reason or another.

Jason gets to play the 'sorry I'm taken' card as both Red Hood and Jason Todd. He also gets to use the couple's discount whenever it's available, and if he gets gifts from his girls in Crime Alley for his mysterious boyfriend, its not like Danny would complain.

Again, they hold no romantic interest in the other at all, entirely platonic those two are.

The batfam doesn't know that, though. Nor does anyone else but put an emphasis on them, after the whole 'Jason Todd is Red Hood' reveal goes down the batfam is interested in Jason's supposed boyfriend.

Danny just cannot believe his parents were right about Jason being a crime lord and Jason? Yea he's definity going to have to buy more ice cream to make up for it.

On the other hand, Jason just can't believe Danny took it that well. Considering he got the bomb dropped on him by Nightwing after he (and others) broke into their apartment. On second thought, he's met the guy's parents and they immediately saw through his secret identity so...

[bluerosefox]

Her Astrophel and Sterling

hmmm

Hmmmmmmmm

You know what.

You know those AU's where the Batfam finds or learns about either hidden or thought to be dead Al Ghul Danny! with a deaged/daughter Dani (Ellie) (I should know, I created a few of those storylines) but what if, now hear me out, what if instead of them finding Danny first its Talia.

Do I want Talia discovering her thought to be dead son to be alive? Yes. Do I want her to find him while investigating Amity Park when the League gets reports of 'Lazarus creatures/water'? Yes.

DO I WANT HER TO KNOCK ON THE FENTON'S DOOR, fully ready to pretend/honey talk her way into the house to uncover what the Fenton's know, ONLY TO MEET A LITTLE ELLIE?!

YES.

Ellie whose eyes and hair look like a copy of her Beloved but she can see bits and pieces of herself as well. Talia knows the child in front of her was not fully her's though but everything makes sense when she hears a voice, a voice she hasn't heard in ages but as a mother just knows, speak out.

"Ellie! I thought I said do not answer the door my Sterling."

"But Daddy, yous was busy fighting the hotdoggys!"

Talia's eyes widen when she finally catches sight of familiar black hair and blue eyes.

and she could only lightly whisper a old nickname she hasn't dared uttered in ages, a name she secretly gave her son due to his love of the stars "Astrophel..."

[soodoonimin]

My FAVORITE Poolverine trope is Wade and Logan mutual pining and the ONLY reason Logan doesn’t believe Wade is serious is because of how much he flirts with him and like literally EVERYONE else 😂😂

Like Logan isn’t shy about his feelings at all but he’s also been hurt too many times before and even though he has a healing factor that doesn’t mean a broken heart doesn’t still hurt and the last person he wants to be hurt by is Wade fucking Wilson. So he thinks the only reason Wade flirts with him is because that’s just how he is and Wade is like “IM LITERALLY FLIRTING SO HARD WHEN WITH YOU, IS THAT METAL SKULL OF YOURS SO THICK THAT YOU CAN’T TELL WHEN SOMEONE WANTS YOU?!”

[adoctornotatumbl-r]

spock , roughly two seconds before doing something so unhinged no one else has even thought of it : good thing i’m a vulcan and i would never do something irrational or illogical lmaoo

[crimson-constellations]

atla modern au where suki & zuko are life guards for the summer and sokka just keeps drowning

[sunnynwanda]

Wedding date: Part 2

Part 1         Part 3    Part 4

Trembling fingers fix a strand of perfectly styled hair for the fifteenth time. Villain fidgets in place, turning right and left in front of the mirror. To say that they were nervous would be an understatement. A huge one at that. Not only were they going to a family event with a date for the first time in… 

Well, forever, actually. Villain would much rather die than admit it, but this was the first time they were bringing a date. That is, if Hero actually shows up. Their doubts seem reasonable, but then again, why would Hero agree if they did not intend to come. Only to humiliate Villain?

"Stop examining yourself. You look dashing." The familiar voice catches Villain off guard. They turn sharply, facing their nemesis. Breathtaking, as always. Nothing new there. 

Hero's eyes are shameless as they travel all over their rival's frame before landing back on their face with the cockiest smirk ever. Be it damned.

Villain is flustered beyond imagination but forces a crooked smile. "Enjoying the view, are we?"

Hero chuckles fondly, shaking their head as they take a step closer. 

"You're not denying it." Villain states, half-expecting Hero to laugh in their face and walk away, claiming this was a joke.

"No." Hero inhales, hesitating for a long moment before speaking. "Wouldn't be here now, would I?" 

Villain finds the remark out of place and is about to voice it but is interrupted. Rude. 

"Shall we?" Hero offers their elbow, effectively hiding behind a smile. So freaking charming. Villain wants to punch them in the face. 

Or kiss it. Undecided.

Either way, Hero keeps smiling, and Villain finds themselves unable to muster a response, opting for a shaky nod. Their ears are coloured in a bright shade of red as they hook their arm around their rival's. Hero attempts to ignore the burning of Villain’s palm on their forearm and the fact that their fingers’ are prickling at the touch. They want to lace their fingers around Villain’s and squeeze them in reassurance but stop midway, with their palm turned up. 

"We're late, you know," Villain finally utters, voice quiet and calm as opposed to the vein pulsing on the side of their forehead.

Pulled out of their intrusive thoughts, Hero tilts their head, grinning. Mischief laces the corners of their eyes. "That's the plan. We need to make a grand entrance, after all."

Forget flustered. Villain is hysterical at this point. They should be thinking about the fact that they are bringing an enemy to a family event and the potential dangers of the situation. Or be concerned that they find it increasingly more difficult to hate their archnemesis, and said nemesis doesn't seem to hate them back. Quite the opposite, actually.

And Hero… well, Hero is positive they'll do everything in their might to make Villain blush like that again. 

Even if that means they might end up getting punched by the Villain. 

Or kissed. Undecided. 

Part 1         Part 3    Part 4

Masterlist

[spicymancer]

This might be a stupid question, but really wanted to know, how Beck's hairstyle is called, or how it can be explained in words, Dunno why, but it's like super attractive imo

I've talked about Beck's design before but I'm gonna be honest, I have no idea what this hairstyle is called!

Hopefully someone in the comments/tags can help!

[violent138]

*At the funeral of a former Gotham D.A.*

Tim: "So how come you brought just me?"

Bruce, nodding politely at other guests: "The others keep daring each other to do stupider and stupider things and I just wanted one night without any--"

Tim, choking on his drink: "Oh shit, oh shit, that's one of my exes--" hides behind Bruce and nearly knocks over a large photograph of the recently deceased

Bruce, forcing a smile and desperately searching the room for alcohol, muttering: "Him? Really?"

[the-awful-falafel]

hats.

[wilteddreamsofbaldursgate]

Overindulgent father Astarion who tells his children they’re allergic to any kind of jewellery that isn’t made of the highest grade Dwarven crafted gold. 

It’s not even because Astarion might have a certain aversion to silver, no, he just raises his children to have standards, thank you very much. 

And it doesn’t end with shiny things, oh no… 

The Ancunín brood is known to be dressed in perfectly woven cotton, silk and soft leather clothes, no matter the occasion.

They’re seen playing with expensive toys, reading artfully illustrated books that certainly belong behind thick glass, not in children’s sticky hands. 

There’s even talk that one of the children is not as naturally inclined to music as his parents claim him to be, surely his lyre must be enchanted—the instrument certainly looks extravagant enough! 

And then there’s always this air of effortless haughtiness surrounding the Ancunín children whenever their nannies and servants are parading them through town as if they were perfect little dolls; objects to show off the wealth their parents acquired in quite the mysterious ways. 

So, it’s no secret that Astarion and Tav are pampering their children—some might say they’re even spoiling them rotten. 

And maybe they are, especially Astarion.

But he doesn’t see why he should raise them any other way, nor does he want to.  

When it comes to his children, Astarion has his own standards, and as long as Tav agrees with him nothing really matters. 

Because, these people, they don’t know anything about the Ancuníns. 

They don’t know that it’s not unusual for Astarion to wash out dirt and mud and strawberry stains from comically small finery, leaving behind only the memories of a day spent playing in the garden, chasing after ducks, picking flowers, lazing in the sun…

That any holes and tears the children’s clothes might suffer are quickly mended, making them look as good as new in no time. 

Nor do they know that Astarion doesn’t mind fashioning a brand new dress to match that of a favourite doll, either. Or to embroider a pretty vest with the likeness of that stray cat the children seem to adore, although their father would rather they don’t touch the mangy animal. 

No, those people know nothing at all...

“Not tired!” Astarion’s youngest cries; the vehement denial of her father’s earlier accusation is cut short by a telltale yawn.

The room still smells of fragrant lavender oil and peaches even when the bath water has already grown tepid, just one or two degrees above what Astarion would consider too cold to be enjoyable. 

Amused, he raises an eyebrow at the protesting toddler before he lifts her out of the copper bathtub with little effort. 

By now, he knows every step of this game.

“Tut-tut, my dear child, what did mama and I say?” Astarion kneels, quickly wrapping a soft towel around the child to keep her warm. “We only tell lies outside of this house.”

Unfazed by her father’s gentle scolding, the girl crosses her arms that haven’t yet lost their puppy fat across her chest, reminding Astarion a little too much of a very displeased Tav. 

Suppressing a sigh, he leans back to consider the pouting child, wondering what could possibly be upsetting her this time—the list is growing longer by the day, after all. 

“What’s the matter, dear?” Astarion asks gently, hoping it’s something easily fixable as it’s growing rather late. 

“Want apple!”

Decades ago, Astarion might’ve rolled his eyes—he knows exactly which stupid apple the child wants, it’s been haunting him all day—but once he started to treat his children’s problems as if they were his own, his life has grown somewhat easier. 

“Why, let’s get an apple on our way to bed, then. Would that be alright, Your Highness?” 

The girl promptly nods her head, allowing Astarion to pat her hair dry before dressing her in a clean night dress. 

She rests her cheek against her father’s shoulder as he carries her first to the kitchen to grab a fragrant apple and a knife, then to her bedroom where they settle on the cosy window seat, just like they do every night.

Soft moonlight is pouring through the windows; the child giggles at the way the knife’s blade is catching the silver light as Astarion peels and cuts the apple into even pieces.

“Here you go,” he finally says, giving the slice of apple one last examining look before surrendering it to the impatient little hands reaching for it. “A sweet treat for my little sweet. Doesn’t it taste so much better when we don’t eat it off the floor, darling?” And when it’s not crawling with ants…

The appeased toddler nibbles at the juicy fruit as Astarion carefully combs through her still-damp curls. 

Her hair’s getting long, he notices, knowing that taking care of it will become more time-consuming each day. 

Once, Astarion would’ve thought this task tedious, brushing out hair that’s not his own, oiling and braiding it for no other reason than knowing his children enjoy him doing it. 

But that’s why he loves doing it in the first place, he supposes.

Astarion can tell by his toddler’s heartbeat that sleep is about to claim her. 

The half-eaten slice of apple is still clutched in her little fist as he cradles the child to his chest, slowly rising from the window seat to put her to bed. 

He’s just about to lay the child down that the fruit drops to the floor, his daughter’s tiny hand clutching at his shirt instead.

“Thank you, papa,” she mumbles, more asleep than awake.

Astarion pauses.

He breathes in the clean, yet unique scent of the little girl that is forever engraved in his brain, the same way he knows under which exact constellation she was born. When she took her first steps, what her first word was. Soon, he will have to memorise her favourite colour, and what she likes to eat when dirty apples won’t be that appealing anymore. 

By now, Astarion knows this game by heart, knows that with every year that passes, he has something new to learn about his children.

And sometimes he wonders what it’s like to grow up with clean bed sheets and full bellies. Sleep filled with naught but warmth and happy memories. Ever open doors and tears that are dried by tender kisses. Living in a house where mistakes and anger are welcomed, safe. 

He wonders what it’s like for his children to know that their father’s love comes without conditions. Not now and not ever. 

Sitting down on the bed, Astarion holds his youngest a little closer to his chest, unwilling to let go of her, yet. 

He’s often accused of spoiling his children when most people can only just grasp the very surface of his love for them, the bare minimum of what he feels for his one and only, precious family. 

These baseless accusations are as unimportant to Astarion as the people voicing them.

He’s raising his children to have standards, wants them to take their father’s love for granted, to accept nothing less but pure devotion.

It’s the only way Astarion knows how to love them, the only way that comes most naturally to him. 

Astarion looks down at his little girl, now fast asleep, a gentle smile tugging at her lips. 

After all these years—all these children—he’s still in awe watching them sleep in his arms as if no harm in the world could ever befall them.

And it won’t—not if Astarion can help it. 

“No, thank you, my heart,” he whispers, pressing a kiss against the crown of the toddler’s head. 

When it comes to his children, Astarion holds himself to the highest standard.