#it would hit okay

[ecstarry]

i don’t know shit about cars but i must say that a fast and furious au would hit so so fucking hard

[lyril]

you don't get it okay... you don't understand..... .

[paintedcrows]

Assorted Gravity Falls doodles!

[twinstxrs]

idk if this is accurate but i’ve felt like in previous seasons riz & gorgug have been one of the inter-bad kids dynamics we’ve seen the least of & this season has been so great in that aspect. gorgug having helped make some of riz’s magic gear. riz helping gorgug with his studies. the shared birthday party. gorgug’s gift to riz being something he himself made to protect riz. riz’s gift to gorgug being something he illegally grabbed to protect gorgug. gorgug who utilizes rage to put his body on the line for his friends & riz who will take deep levels of mental stress for his friends. even though it was within the context of a joke, riz calling gorgug an “absolute sweetie.” like yea they might not be in a band together or both part of a presidential campaign team or owlbears teammates, but they’d go to war for each other, because they’re best friends.

[finzphoenix]

My hand kinda started to move on its own after I accidentally spoilered myself with that one scene

[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."

[rueclfer]

not a lot, just forever // oneshot part two

a/n: i remember talking about this on the timeline a couple of months ago and it has rotted in my brain ever since !!! happy birthday touya baby <3 i am ssssoooooo normal about you!!

keigo takami, touya todoroki, tomura shigaraki

it's been almost a year since touya had started his rehabilitation program, and here you were, like clockwork, willingly sharing his rock hard hospital-grade mattress with your head cushioned against his chest and the same chirpy attitude he couldn't quite understand how you mustered up this early in the morning.

"wanna go get breakfast?"

"no."

"wanna go on a walk?"

"no."

"wanna call fuyumi? mom? spinner? see what they're up to today?"

"no."

a beat of silence passes between you two.

you roll onto your front and prop yourself up onto your elbow, turning face to face with him.

"why do you always have to be so grumpy in the mornings?" you groan, bringing your hand up and swiping away at the stray tuffs of hair hung over his forehead from a night's worth of tossing and turning.

"told you 8am is a crazy time to come visit. every day, too." he scoffs, a slight smirk tugging on the corner of his lips as he reaches up and lazily drags a finger across your jaw. "don't you have better things to do?"

"you're lucky, visitation hours only start at 8am. i'd be with you 24/7 if i had it my way." you whisper, leaning into his hand. "connected by the hip, drinking from the same cup of water, you'd be sick of me in less than 48 hours, and i wouldn't care."

touya instinctively tries to pull away before you melt into his touch, eyes fluttering close for a moment as you release a heavy exhale in content.

the palm of his rough and scarred hand laid flush against the softness of your cheek. he barely has any feeling in his hands anymore, but somehow he feels everything.

this is the first time that question had crossed his mind, like a wild animal running across an unlit road. an audible laugh almost escapes his mouth.

he could only ever hope that you'd come back the next day.

the thought never leaves him. it's always lingering in the back of his head, followed by an internal scoff.

marriage doesn't mean anything. you two love each other, and that's all that matters. marriage is only paperwork. marriage doesn't equal love.

marriage doesn't equal love.

but sometimes it takes one look at you for him to get all choked up, and when this happens he thinks about telling you exactly how he feels. he wants to tell you how much he loves you. it hurts him to be left with no words that could amount to that feeling you give him, so instead he's left balling his fists and pressing the crescent of his nails into his palm trying to ease this ache in his chest.

years later, after touya had completed his program, you're overlooking the city from your shared apartment together.

you've been out running errands and he had spent the day in therapy and meeting with his siblings afterwards. naturally you'll find yourselves sitting across from one another on the fire escape chatting about your days through a shared cigarette and cup of tea.

you're looking out towards the distant city lights. touya's looking at you.

nothing much has changed.

you're sporting the same hoodie you snagged from his closet from what felt like an eternity ago. you picked up smoking thanks to his influence- but socially of course, as you'd like to correct him whenever he makes a snarky comment. you still can't bring yourself to toss that tattered blanket you left with him the first night the hospital staff allowed you to sleepover with him.

and for the millionth time since that morning a few years ago, that question crosses his mind again.

and for the first time, he doesn't roll his eyes or scoff at himself, but instead his mouth goes dry and the palms of his hands grow clammy.

you nudged his leg with your foot. "what're you thinking about, spacey?"

he's thinking about why you're still here. why do you still choose to come back? even after all those years ago when he was ready to leave you behind in this lifetime?

he's thinking about as long as you'll have him, he could spend his life with you doing exactly this. he'll deal with it all- the insufferably loud mornings, shameless PDA, the nagging, the babying, all of it. he doesn't mind at all.

"can i marry you?"

touya sucks in a sharp breath of air and presses his lips together in regret the second the words slip from his mouth.

"if you wanted to leave, you would've by now." he reminds himself- the only thought that'll keep him sane.

"really?" you exclaim, almost spitting out your tea.

touya looks back at you with wide eyes, the butt of the cigarette slipping from his fingers and onto the cold metal of fire escape, spewing sparks of ash against his leg.

a moment of silence passes. then two.

"what do you mean really?"

"you really want to marry me?" your smile grows into a wide grin, making his cheeks flush and stomach twist.

touya’s body moves without a second thought. he crawls over to you and perches himself on one knee. he feels like an idiot. he bites down on his lip in embarrassment as he takes your hand in his cold and rough palms, bringing your knuckles up to his lips.

"really," he mutters against your skin, his voice shaking, "if you’d let me.”

the question lingers in the air for another moment. years of thinking about this, and yet he was far from prepared. he should’ve taken you out. he should've gotten dressed up. he doesn’t even have a ring to give you.

tonight wasn't so different from any other night, but there was a burning ache in his chest that was desperate for that confirmation of forever with you- something that he couldn't have ever been ready for.

you lean forward and move your hand from his grasp to the side of his jaw where you pull him in. 

“you and me, touya. it's always going to be us.” you whisper before colliding your lips with his- sealing a silent promise to one another.

[nenestansunsthings]

having svsss au ideas beyond my station

thinking. shang qinghua goes on a mission as a young disciple to some town in fuckoff nowhere and finds himself in the qiu household. and there he finds a young shen jiu, undergoing the plot he originally intended for him and hadn't realised had become real and he's so young oh god hes so young why is he so small what do you mean that part was real, he hadn't kept it why is it real—

and he panics and sneaks him the Fuck out of that house

and he's not sure what to do but surely sending him to cang qiong will fuck up something in the plot and he can't come under even more investigation and cang qiong tryouts dont happen for months anyway and his system would probably never allow it (it doesnt. it would interfere with yue qingyuans story) but shen jiu is refusing to stay anywhere near this place and wants to learn cultivating to protect himself make sure nothing like this ever happens again and sqh panics harder and

calls mobei jun.

okay. on second thought, maybe this was a bad idea. but he stumbles over himself and shushes baby shen jiu's very understandable freaking out and asks his king for the first thing hes ever asked for other than his own life.

is there any way this human child could learn cultivation in the demon world?

[sableeira]

sure ango may have betrayed every organization under the sun but tachihara put in the effort to build up the perfect stereotypical gangstersona and act his silly little heart out for the perfect plot twist so we all know who deserves the award for best port mafia betrayal

[heynhay]

thinking abt kleah. and like, on one hand i like the idea of everyone else being the same gender-wise in vld except them. but on the other hand i always love the bits where keith's gaydar is too dookie to realize lance is bi or lance has to have a bi crisis so maybe i can make allura SO butch that kat is like damn....leah likes him..... and not women...... meanwhile leah is essentially walking around in a butch bait t shirt whether knowingly or not

[avephelis]

reubenisms. skullslayce worst brother award. problematic fave.

[deoidesign]

someone asked me what if adam and steve switched vampire and werewolf...

And then since my monsters are purposefully not much visually different because of metaphors, I went more traditional vampire and werewolf...

and then I got carried away...

[rorynni]

armin sometimes tries to de-escalate eren and jean fights in canon but do you think he ever caught a stray punch in the process

[always-a-joyful-note]

Enstars sure is an experience. Did I miss anything?

[hylianane]

Out of the (unfortunately) many One Piece scenarios bouncing around in my head one of my favorites is Zoro getting hit with the memory loss beam, and only remembering up until like. immediately after Morgan’s defeat. He’s agreed to join up Luffy and is already feeling his heart swell with loyalty, but is still under the impression that he’s going to join up to a much larger crew, with several other members.

So he just blinks awake and at first there’s none of the confusion and yelling that comes with the memory loss trope, he’s okay, he’s banged up cause of Morgan, he’s on a boat because he just became a pirate, and oh hey Luffy’s right there. This must be his new crew.

Hey, um, is that skeleton playing the violin.

[nekrosmos]

Oh I'm getting NikPrice thoughts with Price being trans.

Price who transitioned early and was lucky enough to easily pass. He's tall, jaw sharp, voice deep, grew facial hair pretty quickly. It was his well-kept secret, and that was it.

And then came Nikolai. Older, smart, handsome Nikolai, who looked at Price like he was the most beautiful thing in the entire world, who stayed by John's side whenever he needed him, whose attraction to him was barely concealed. John never allowed himself to reciprocate those feelings, even if deep down he shared them. He couldn't, he didn't want him, of all people, to know.

Years, decades of this. They aged together, still alive despite everything, and the regrets grew more and more unbearable. Even then, all these years later, Nikolai still looked at John the same way, dark eyes staring lovingly at him when he thought John wasn't paying attention, a deep sadness hidden behind his gentle smile.

Even someone as stubborn as John cracks eventually, and he does, one day, late at night, after sharing a few drinks with Nik in his Black Hawke. Nik stares at him for what seems like an eternity, searching for approval in John's blue eyes, his face slowly approaching his after obtaining it, and their lips finally meet, barely touching at first, both of them shy, uncertain, the moment suspended in time, but eventually closing the gap, a gentle kiss saying more than either of them could at the moment.

It takes them a while, then, to break the silence that follows. John's hands are tightly gripping the fabric of his pants around the knees, fingers digging into them as he looks down, while Nikolai stares at him, trying to understand.

When he asks him if everything is okay, it takes everything in John to not run away. He doesn't, instead taking a long, deep breath, and starts talking.

Once done, he just looks at the floor, feeling numb, a two decade old anxiety replaced by a feeling of emptiness, almost at peace with what is to come, like a soldier accepting his death.

"I know." Is all Nikolai answers, his fingers tentatively brushing against John's, dark eyes staring at his worried face in the dark.

"You do?" Price's voice is quiet, broken, his eyes meeting Nik's, searching for an answer. The gentleness on Nikolai's face is almost enough to break him, here and there.

"I saw the scars, a long time ago. I'm sorry, John."

There is a lot Price needs to think about, a lot he wants to say, a lot he wants to do. He smiles weakly, opening his hands and letting Nik intertwine his fingers with his, the warmth of his skin almost feeling like another kiss. This time, he's the one leaning forward and placing his lips against Nik's, the Russian accepting it, a gentle hand leaving his and letting his fingers brush against Price's beard.

The two men will have a lot to talk about, eventually. For now, however, all they can do is start making up for lost time in the safety of Nikolai's helicopter.