#pairing: × none

[brainwroms]

none of you are safe. seeing this on my normal account tl as if my head isn't being bashed open on the pavement🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

[gattaxa]

YELENA BELOVA in THUNDERBOLTS* (2025) dir. Jake Schreier

When all you have left to hold on to is a green tactical vest, a tub of hair gel, and a stolen guinea pig.

Bonus:

[the-mazed-magic-shop]

Scratch

Author: @sabiekay

Pairing: Wolf Shifter! Jimin and Wolf Shifter! Reader (can be read as gender neutral) - Platonic/Friendship

Rating: PG-13 (for language and subject matter)

Genre: Wolf Shifters/Wolf Pack, Angst

Trigger Warnings: Graphic description of blood, wounds, and injuries; minor character death mention

Word Count: 1.2K

Summary: While healing your packmate Jimin from an attack, you are confronted by painful memories you try to keep hidden. Inspired by prompt #1032 by @creativepromptsforwriting -

"It's only a scratch." "A scratch that is ruining all your clothes right now."

Author's Note: This is my first dip into the supernatural world! Everything I know about wolf shifters and/or wolf packs comes from reading other fics, please don't assume I am an expert or the definitive voice for this genre.

Read here!: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50717473

Thank you for reading! I saw this prompt come up on my home page and the words just came spilling out.

[just-another-obsessed-fangirl]

[saym0-0]

au where when martin calls jon's bluff in season 4 (? its been a while idk where exactly) about stabbing their eyes out and running away together, they go fuck you no and actually go through with it. they then go to their only other friends, their former band mates like heeyyy i just disabled myself and cant really live alone rn help 🙏 and boom somehow they restart the mechanisms. jon gets cool steampunk prosthetic eyes. they look like this. (image under the cut). oh yeah they/them jon because they deserve it

(link to the reddit post this is from)

[batfossil-fr]

in one of the absolute worst breeding projects I've ever had, after 207 failures and countless one-offs, I finally. FINALLY. have this pair

[dykedvonte]

Honestly a sorry from Curly would mean nothing to Anya.

I’m not saying she wouldn’t want to hear it, it’s a hollow vindication. She told him and he couldn’t hear her. He saw it and he couldn’t understand it. They both experienced it and he should apologize that it took that for him to get it. She already knows he’s sorry but what’s the point if neither of them can do anything about it? It’s earnest but at the same time what she wants an apology for is what Curlu can’t apologize for.

He can’t be sorry for what happened to her even if he is. Even if he carries that guilt with him until the day he dies it’s not all his to bare. The most heinous parts aren’t his weight even if he tries to balance it. A part of her bitterness is the fact he can’t be sorry for it all. She can’t just direct it all towards him even if she wants to. She was failed in so many ways by all of them. It hurts with him the most cause he had the power but they all did nothing in the grand scheme of things.

The one person who should apologize would never and could never, it’s not something you can be sorry for. She wants an apology, she needs one but what would it fix?

[cobalt-sugar-punch]

I'm obsessed with the cunty Star Trek boots. it's the fact that they're so skinny at the ankle they feel so sleek.

[bayetea]

reynabeth.......... in 2024?!?

♡ my daily pjo art tag ♡

[allthegothihopgirls]

tim's definitely a coachella girlie, and drags kon along with him every year. the number of messages received from bruce + the rest of the batfam along the lines of "tim we love you but please put some more clothes on" grows every year. he ignores them all.

kon takes all of tim's pictures and is the #1 supportive boyfriend. i would compare him in this scenario to the likes of a bf roped into going to a taylor swift concert, but he is way too into the whole coachella thing for that.

their outfits are always coordinated too.

[parcai]

not even being facetious when i say sjm would b taken 10x more seriously if she actually laid out tamsand as canonical lore (explains a LOT), and azriel as gay (doesn't have to be azris but that would work).

[enbyandyy]

WHAT IN THE FUCK IS THAT

HE KNEW IT WAS MEANT TO BE PIKACHU. HE KNEW IT WAS PIKACHU AND HE INSTRUCTED TO BUILD THAT. WJY.

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 57

Cryptid Batman but… While at first it was all tricks, simply fear and shadows and tricks of the minds, that doesn’t stay the case. It’s barely noticeable at first, the way the grunts deepen to something akin to growls by the time he takes a small child from the circus in. It’s not too alarming when their vision in the darkness gets better or their skin feels as cold as a corpse the moment they step into the streets. 

It’s hard to explain to Jason when his own teeth begin to sharpen and nails become talons the first time he puts on that domino, when it almost seems to meld with his skin into downy feathers. 

It’s hard to stay in denial with each new clan member about how much Gotham has sank Its claws into their bodies of mortal flesh and bone, how much they’ve shifted from the forms they were born with. 

[nyoomfruits]

send me an au and a line of dialogue and i will write a little drabble!!

AU

Apocalypse AU

Band AU

Celebrity AU

College AU

Demigod AU

Fake Dating/Engagement/Marriage AU

Office AU

Omegaverse AU

Body Swap AU

Room Mate AU

Royalty AU

Soulmate AU

Time Travel AU

Supernatural/Magic AU

Historical AU

Bartender/Bar AU

DIALOGUE

A. “What do you mean it was an accident? How can that be an accident!”

B. “How did you even find me?”

C. “Do I look like I belong here to you?”

D. “Well. It could be worse than this, I guess.” “Could it?”

E. "What's wrong? Are you hurt?"

F. "Who did this to you?"

G. "Do you want me to stay?"

H. “We’re in this together right?” “Always.”

I. “What do you think of this?” “I think you’re an idiot.” “So you don’t like it?” “No, of course I like it. You’re just an idiot.”

J. “So how upset would you be [insert silly/insane thing here]…”

K. “Are you okay?” “I am now.”

L. “Why are you covered in blood?” “Uh. Long story?”

M. "I need to ask something of you." "Always. Anything." "Don't say that before you hear what it is. Seriously."

N. “How did you get into this profession?” “Family business.”

O. “How do you know each other?” Both simultaneously, “We don’t.”

P. "Do you have some kind of spider-sense for when I need something?" "No, you idiot, [Name] texted me"

[glorious-spoon]

your way or nothing at all [9-1-1 | Eddie Diaz | 1/1]

1500 words character study | mild angst | weddings | background buck/tommy, eddie/marisol | pre-relationship buddie | not quite a feelings realization for eddie but he's getting there

-

In the quieting dark, Eddie lingers by the tables, the empty chairs pushed together in a cluster for a conversation long since abandoned. It's late enough that people are starting to filter out into the night, and pretty much everybody left is crowded at the open bar or swaying on the dance floor. At the high table, Maddie has Buck's suit jacket draped over her shoulders and her cheek tipped against Chim's shoulder, and he's looking down at her with a dopily besotted expression that Eddie can clock even from here.

It makes him feel like—something, some kind of nostalgia for the wedding he never got to have with Shannon. That whole day felt like being hustled through a play that he never learned his lines to. Shannon was three months pregnant and deep in the throes of vicious morning sickness that was not improved by the catering or the stress of the day, so he spent their wedding night holding back her hair in the honeymoon suite his parents paid for and trying desperately to feel like he had a single fucking clue what he was doing. Trying to feel like a man and a husband and a father-to-be and mostly feeling like a complete fraud.

They deserved better. Both of them. Now, in this moment, after this day, it soothes more than it stings to watch Maddie and Chim hold onto each other so easily.

The song changes, and he watches a swirl of motion on the bar side of the dance floor, the particular energy that's easily identifiable as Buck even before he emerges from the crowd. Normally, maybe Eddie would gravitate in, but Buck's got a hand linked together with Tommy's, and they're laughing, and so he stays where he is. Just watches.

It's sweet, a little fumbling as Buck very obviously tries to figure out the logistics of slow-dancing with another guy. Tommy says something in a low voice and settles a palm on his hip, and Buck ducks his head, laughing, and leans into him.

It's sweet. It is. Eddie's throat fucking aches.

He doesn't know why, not really. Maybe it's the smile on Buck's face, wide and giddy and almost embarrassingly bright. He never smiled at Natalia like that, or Taylor. Maybe Ali, but the truth is that back then Eddie wasn't looking for it. Back then, he was so caught up in everything with Shannon, and he and Buck were barely more than friendly coworkers, as strange as that idea seems now.

He probably smiled at Abby like that. Eddie wasn't around for that relationship, only the aftermath, but he can imagine it. You don't hurt that badly when someone leaves you unless you really fucking loved them.

"You would not believe the line for the bathroom," Marisol says from behind him, and Eddie jolts like he just grabbed a high-voltage wire. He tries to spin it into something graceful as he turns to face her, but he's pretty sure it doesn't work, and also pretty sure that he shouldn't be feeling quite so jumpscared at the sight of his girlfriend. His heart is pounding. He rubs his knuckles against his sternum, and Marisol asks, "You okay?"

"Yeah," he says. "Sorry. You startled me."

"No, it's fine." She smiles at him, and it's pretty. She looks pretty, in a blue dress that looks black in this light, little metallic threads picked through and glittering. It hugs the curves of her body in a way that Eddie feels obligated to notice, and so he does, and when he looks her in the eye again she's smiling wider, and that's pretty too and Eddie—

Eddie still feels like a fucking fraud.

"I got you a beer," Marisol says. She's got a glass of wine in her other hand. White wine, lipstick marks on the rim.

Eddie smiles back and takes the bottle she hands him. "Thanks."

"I wasn't sure what you'd want." She grins at him, flirty. "You'll have to tell me if I made a bad guess."

He sips the beer. It's a lager, hoppy and astringent in a way that leaves a bitter aftertaste on his tongue. He takes another drink and smiles around the grimace his mouth wants to make. "It's perfect. Thank you."

The pleased relief in her smile doesn't make the lie feel any better. He takes another sip and sets the bottle down, and Marisol settles her hip against his chair, close enough that he can feel the warmth of her body. Close enough that he could wrap an arm around her thighs and pull her into his lap, if he wanted to do that. He shifts forward instead, leaning his elbows against the table, and she lets out a quiet sound and sets her glass down to sit in the chair next to him. The music switches over from Christina Perri to what Eddie is pretty sure is Savage Garden, and on the dance floor Tommy says something that makes Buck laugh and pull him closer.

"They're cute together," Marisol observes. "Buck and, um… Tommy?"

Eddie's fingers twitch on his beer bottle. "Yeah."

"I didn't know that he was, you know…" she trails off. Eddie looks over at her, and she adds, "Not that there's anything wrong with it! I just, I thought he had a girlfriend."

"They broke up. He dates guys too," Eddie says, more emphatically than is really necessary. Like this is a truth that he's always known instead of something Buck told him two weeks ago in the loft, quiet and careful like he was afraid of how Eddie would react. Like he was afraid of Eddie.

It was a date, we were on a date.

So it's new for Buck, too. Not just him. But still.

It feels like something he should have known.

"Okay," Marisol says. The corners of her mouth tighten, and she takes a pointed sip of her wine. "I didn't know that, is all."

I didn't know either, Eddie imagines saying, but the words strangle themselves in his throat just the same as, Actually, I don't like lagers, and, I don't really want company tonight, did. He wonders how the hell Buck does it—just opens his mouth and lets the truth spill out. Eddie can only manage that when it's for other people. Never for himself.

"Sorry," he says out loud. "It's been… a day."

Marisol's face softens a little, and he feels like shit about that, too. It has been a day, is the thing. He woke up in a bathtub, more hungover than he's been in at least a decade, and after that was a wild goose-chase through the desert to retrieve Chim in time for the wedding, and all that is plenty of reason for him to be off his game now. It's just that somehow it also feels like a fucking lie.

On the dance floor, Buck has his cheek pressed to Tommy's. He says something, and Tommy's shoulders shake with laughter, and then they both turn, moving easily together into a kiss. It's quick and tender, and Eddie abruptly feels like the worst kind of voyeur for watching it happen. He turns his head away and finds Marisol looking at him.

The music changes again. TLC, he's pretty sure, because Chim is deep down a very basic Gen X music kind of guy. Or maybe it was Maddie's pick, who knows. Anyway. It's a little more upbeat, but still slow enough to dance to.

"You, uh." He clears his throat, and finds a smile that feels almost right. "Come on, you wanna dance before they close it all down? They're playing our song."

"This is our song?" Marisol asks, but she's laughing. "I don't even think I was born yet when it came out."

Eddie shrugs and holds out a hand. "It could be our song. Maybe for tonight it's just a good song to dance to."

That must have been the right thing to say. She smiles, sets her wine down, and slips her hand into his, letting him tug her to her feet. They wind their way through the chairs to the dance floor, and under the string lights she settles easily into his arms. 

I know you're gonna have it your way or nothing at all, rasps the singer in a sweetly smoky voice, as Eddie closes his eyes, and sways, and breathes, but I think you're moving too fast.

I think you're moving too fast.

He breathes in, and out, and opens his eyes. Marisol smiles up at him, and he smiles back, then cuts his eyes away. There are still a handful of people left on the dance floor with them: Athena and Bobby, swaying together like they're in their own little world, a couple of Buckley cousins with their dates. Buck and Tommy are gone, though, and Eddie almost cranes his head through the crowd to see where they got to before he catches himself.

"To tell you the truth," Marisol says. "I really don't think this is our song."

"Alright, well, we can find another one," Eddie says, and she laughs and sways into him, and he holds onto her, and when he closes his eyes, it's fine; it all feels fine.

[onmyo-jin]

Fic prompt: 36 to give up control

Thank you! This is ll/zyz, as requested 😁 If you've also sent in a prompt: don't worry, I'm still working on them!

The small restaurant is not so well-known around town, but Zhao Yuanzhou has found it to be one of his favorites. The food is homey,  perhaps even unfashionable by the standards of the city's humans, but the seating along the riverside at the back of the restaurant is beautiful. At night, when the city comes alive in a wholly different manner, this little riverside spot keeps to itself. From the terrace one can watch as the city goes about its nighttime routine, dazzling lights and dazzling performances appearing and disappearing like fireflies. 

He's seen Li Lun coming– and how could he not? The man's energy is as familiar to him as his own.

Zhao Yuanzhou might not have expected to see Li Lun in the middle of a human city, might not have expected to run into him without a lot more fanfare and hostilities involved, but he's not going to complain about that. Li Lun sits himself down at Zhao Yuanzhou's table without invitation, and a waiter follows him with a new bottle of wine and another cup. He came prepared, it seems.

Zhao Yuanzhou finishes his wine, but does not speak. Li Lun pours them both more wine, and they drink. He says nothing, accepting Zhao Yuanzhou's curious stare with good grace.

It reminds Zhao Yuanzhou a little too much of their past travels, both around the Wilderness and into the human world, before… well, before everything went wrong. Some evenings they would be full of jokes and laughter, telling stories of the day as if they hadn't spent it together, embellishing into unlikelihood adventures of simple days. Other evenings would be more like this one: quiet company over shared drinks, and a silence more telling and familiar than anything they could say out loud. These he has missed more than anything. After all: jokes and stories may be shared with many, but that quiet companionship is much harder to recreate.

And there was always that: the company. The two of them, together. Zhao Yuanzhou has missed this, more than he (even he, whom others call a chattering monkey) can put into words. He wonders how Li Lun even got here when he is supposed to be safely locked away, and does not ask. If he asks, when he knows, he might have to do something about it. He downs his wine, then raises his empty cup to Li Lun in silent thanks.

Li Lun's expression is unreadable, and for a long moment Zhao Yuanzhou thinks he has made a mistake after all. The restaurant bustles behind them, small enough that even a few customers make it look busy. The far side of the river has lit up with bright lanterns that reflect their glow onto the water, and in Li Lun's eyes. To Zhao Yuanzhou, it is beautiful. He wonders what Li Lun is thinking.

The great Pagoda tree stirs himself, and reaches for Zhao Yuanzhou's cup. His face has softened around the hard edges of the past, and Zhao Yuanzhou dares to hope that Li Lun too is remembering the other evenings they shared like this.

Li Lun holds out his newly filled cup, but does not let go when Zhao Yuanzhou reaches to take it. Instead he blinks a slow challenge at Zhao Yuanzhou. There were other things they did, other moments they shared on evenings like these, and Zhao Yuanzhou's heart stutters into his throat at the thought. He lets his hand fall back into his lap, and watches the long-forgotten, intimately familiar script play out. Li Lun brings the cup to Zhao Yuanzhou's lips, and he parts them willingly, allowing the sweet wine to wake a thirst in him he has not felt in a long time.

Li Lun gives him half of that cup, and then brings the wine to his own lips with that slow inevitability that only trees can possess. He does not break eye contact when he drinks down the rest of the wine, and Zhao Yuanzhou licks his own lips to chase the echo of that sweetness. With the same inexorable surety Li Lun sets down the cup, and reaches for Zhao Yuanzhou. There is a question in his eyes that you would never be able to detect in his confident movements: does Zhao Yuanzhou want this to continue, his eyes ask. Zhao Yuanzhou suspects Li Lun would let him go, for tonight, for the past nights they shared, and finds he wants nothing less.

So he does what he does best: he grins a silent challenge at Li Lun, a smile that says 'come and get me'-- only he does not run. Instead, when Li Lun's hand takes root in his hair and pulls him close, he surrenders, willingly caught in their shared history. When their lips meet it is like no time has passed, and the great divide of their actions does not gape between them, does not tear them apart. Zhao Yuanzhou's hands find themselves holding onto Li Lun's robes, holding him close, and his lips part as willingly for him as they did for his wine.