#potential wip?

[acourtofchaos]

I can't stop thinking about the "I've lost my memory but something in me remembers you" trope with tom riddle especially if it's in an enemies storyline

Like just imagine both of you are fighting as always and it either ends in a duel that goes wrong or potion you had to brew together exploding or something and you're knocked unconscious.

When you wake up you don't recognise anyone around you and your mind is disturbingly foggy but then you catch sight of a boy eyeing you warily, half glare - half reluctant concern (he will absolutely refuse to admit the latter to himself), and oh, you know him.

You know him even if his name refuses to form on your tongue and your brain won't offer up any memories for you to place how it is you know him. But you undoubtedly do. You can feel the thread of a connection to him in your chest.

Because of it you don't really trust anyone around you except him which prompts the teachers to instruct Tom to remain by your side as much as possible in hopes it could return your memory and Tom's just like "I beg your fucking pardon?"

And at first he's cold as hell until maybe someone convinces him this could be his chance to destroy you like he's always wanted. He can use your trust in him to find out everything about you and every possible way to ruin your life.

He's a little more charming then and as time goes by he realises how disturbingly easy it is to be around you, to actually want to be, when you're not at each other's throats and he's actively trying to not give off the vibe that he'll curse you into an early grave. Cue Tom becoming a little obsessed with you over time, a little possessive too, all whilst still adamantly denying his behaviour is anything other than keeping you close to him so he can have his ultimate revenge on you.

It has absolutely nothing to do with the fact there's a pit in his stomach that forms whenever someone comes close to triggering a memory for you and taking you from him. Making you hate him again.

Nothing at all.

[majorproblems77]

AHHHHHHH

MY HEART

NOOO

A Brother's Support

[youunravelme]

i wish you would write a fic where anthony and ready keep getting in arguments but like petty ones and he’s playing a game and gets a really bad injury and she’s freaking out because no one will let her see him because they are still accessing him but in the end he’s ok and healing up and they make up and she realizes she never wants to be angry with him and they have to make up that day bc that really scared her

i’m a sucker for injury and make up in hockey fics

i was torn on answering this bc what if i wrote it? but alas, i'll tag it so i can remember to come back to it.

ALL THAT TO SAY

anon, your mind, it's brilliant. because i'm also a sucker for hurt/comfort

[paintedcrows]

Assorted Gravity Falls doodles!

[sentient-stove]

“Over there is Drake, he’s with us because JL Light kept saying no to the teenage group so now they made him my and JLD’s problem. Also he kept trying to raise the dead. And kept succeeding.”

“It’s not my fault it’s so easy,” Drake muttered without looking away from his project. “And Batman wasn’t dead the last time. You bring back three people and suddenly everyone thinks you’re a budding necromancer. It shouldn’t be my fault I’m using the available resources for the best solution.”

Constantine somehow looked even more dead than Elle as he pointed to the teenager that had taken up residence on the counter, the rest of the space covered with no less than four laptops. “Do not see him as a role model. He broke reality that first time.”

Man, she already knew they were going to get along like a house on fire. Elle waved cheerfully at Drake. “Quack.” She said. Constantine just sighed and went for his lighter.

Drake looked at her in befuddlement. “Quack?”

“A drake is a duck yeah? So, quack.”

“I prefer the drakes being dragons route.” He said. “More mysterious and powerful.”

“Ah. Rawr then.” The lesser of the two options. Drake had clearly never met a true duck. Maybe Elle could sneak one in one of these days and introduce Drake to a better namesake.

[terrageode]

Another series of random sketches I may or may not do something with. Outside of this, I am still working on pieces, it's just that this week I am working on a group project that is taking a while.

[ohitslen]

*Vampirizes your Vashwood*

keep reading for more :)

If there needs to be much closer close-up please let me know!

[hellspawn-enjoyer]

Working on an angsty short animation next...

[starmocha]

Growing up Vietnamese means that child me was forced to be ok that our origin myth is literally a dragon marrying a woman/fairy/goddess and then divorcing and splitting custody of their 100 kids (lol what)

What I'm trying to say is I've been brain rotting about dragon!Sylus for the past week and it's getting bad and I will only be ok once I write a dragon AU that has a lot of

Overprotective Sylus

Berserk Sylus that can only be calmed by MC

MATES FOR LIFE MORE SOULMATES SHIT

"I belong to you and you to me."

"I would let the world burn for you."

Egg laying 🙂

More dad Sylus because it makes me sob and yearn so badly pls send help

Even more grossly in love with you Sylus because I plan on contributing to this genre until I die 🫡

Really just lowkey need more Sylus worshipping MC like the goddess that she is type of content

"My queen" is going to make a comeback fr fr

I also lowkey want to write MC as a literal goddess and Sylus is just a lowly human who worships at her altar the altar is my hips but this something for another day maybe

"You've sealed your fate the moment you have harmed her."

Literally I just want berserk Sylus decimating the world for one woman is that too much to ask 🥺

Powerful man who rules over others and is feared and revered 🤝 the one woman who rules his heart and can bring him down to his knees

did I mention more soft Sylus It heals my soul in a godly way 🥹

idk if this seed will sprout into anything since I only have the ✨️vibe✨️ for it and not an actual plot lol 🫠 ok bye back to the other 38299272793 wips that I am a slave to

[madrabit]

Her name is Stephanie, her boyfriend calls her Štefka 🩷

(Sketch under the cut because I think it's too pretty to not show shhdjdjdjdj)

[ganondoodle]

actually, i did draw this today ... the only thing i actually saved the file of ( .. have i ever drawn a zentaur??? idk??not what i had in mind .. obviously) feels almost embarassing, but maybe its good to know to some that even artists you might perceive as better than you can draw things that arent up to their usual quality

[takemetomyfragiledreams]

This is a wip about banshee!Tim gradually adopting all the bats and keeping them alive. It has the possibility to be an eventual Robin pile but I haven't fully decided on where it'll go. The original intention was to eventually have it be damitim but honestly it could go jaytim, dicktim or just robin pile. If you have a preference I'm all ears.

Talia becomes aware of her father’s shadow at the age of five. A boy with skin so white she half expects him to be translucent and eyes so frigid they put the winter sky to shame. He lingers in shadows and darkened corners, ever silent and ever watching. Her father never mentions him, not even when he perches on the arm of his throne or steals bits of meat from his plate. She half thinks she’s crazy for the first thirteen years of her life but doesn’t once dare to ask. Secrets get you killed in this world and this is one she’s not willing to die for.

He never speaks to her. Never seems to speak to anyone. He’d be an afterthought if his presence wasn’t so alien. 

At the age of thirteen, the night before her first solo mission, she wakes to find him sitting on the edge of her bed. No scream comes; she’s learned the only one she can depend on is herself. 

He touches a finger to his lips and she remains silent as the guards outside walk past. When the lights from under the door fade, he speaks for the first time. 

“Tomorrow, you’re going to die.” 

Talia’s hand curls around the blade beneath her pillow. “Is this a threat?” 

“A fact.” His face is cold, emotionless. It’s like looking into the depths of a still pool; all she sees is herself staring back. “You will die many times in this world and you will pay dearly for your return.” 

“The pit,” she understands. 

“If you’re smart, you’ll start saving what pieces of yourself you have left. You’ll need them one day.” He stands. Instead of opening the door, she watches as he finds tiny handholds in the stone of her wall and begins to climb to the ceiling. There’s a small hole six meters up, where the smoke of her fires can escape. It’s barely big enough for his head.  

“Who are you?” She calls as loud as she dares. 

“When the time comes, I will scream for you. Follow the sound back.” 

He vanishes out the hole like smoke, body contorted into impossible shapes. Talia lays down and stares up at that dark maw of space until her eyes blur and droop. 

Three days later she can’t stop the sword from cutting through her chest. She slices through her enemy but it’s too late. Her knees fall out from under her as her mouth opens in a silent cry. 

Across the room, she sees a boy’s eyes turn from icy blue to black as his mouth contorts into the shape of a horrific scream; the sound rings in her ears long after it’s over. 

It’s the last thing she hears as she dies and the first she hears as she comes gasping from the Pit, naked and shaking as her heart restarts in her chest. 

He stands in the shadows when her father holds a hand out. Always watching. Waiting.

This repeats twenty times in the span of a hundred years. Twenty times in which she dies to a scream and returns to one. And then it stops. 

He’s sitting in front of a machine, eyes big as he presses his palms to the glass. She feels something sick in her stomach but cannot place just what it means. Motherly instinct? The desire to whisk her growing child out of sight and away from this creature no one ever seems to talk about. 

“His name,” he says, “what will you call him?” 

The last thing she wants to do is tell him. Still, she cannot stop herself. 

“His name is Damian.” 

“Damian,” he sighs, croons, growls. “Damian Wayne-al Ghul.”

She never told him who the father was. 

The day Damian is born is the day she loses him, if she ever had him in the first place. It’s in the way he looks past her to stare into the shadows; the way his nose scrunches and his lips curl in delight; the way he waves his grasping hands and the way she cannot stop him from leaving her arms. 

“Tim,” he babbles up at the monster that has dogged her life and death. She didn't even know he had a name to give.

Damian giggles and pats at a pale cheek with his own colored fingers. “Tim!” 

Tim smiles a ghastly, jagged sort of smile down at him. It’s like watching someone learn how to feel for the first time; unnatural, yet impossible to look away from. There’s color in his face for the first time, a light in his eyes like the first thaw of spring. 

“Damian,” he says like it’s something reverent, something holy. It’s the level of devotion a prince deserves but she cannot find it in herself to be pleased. 

It’s then that she acknowledges the bitter truth: Tim scares her in a world where she is not meant to be afraid of anything. He’s the only being she fears save perhaps her father and he’s looking at her son like he hung the stars.

What bitter irony. 

For the first time, she comes to him. He’s standing just outside Damian’s room, looking in like there’s nothing he wants more and less than to go inside. 

“Normally you’re inseparable. What is it?”

He’s silent for so long that she half convinces herself he’s an illusion. 

“I’m leaving.” 

Talia blinks. He’s never left once; not that she’s aware of. “Leaving?”

“If I stay, he won’t turn into the boy he needs to be to survive what’s coming.” Tim turns almost human eyes on her. He looks drawn and tired. “I won’t be able to let you hurt him.” 

“I would not—"

“You would. You know nothing else.” 

They stand together, staring at the closed door in mutual contemplation. Finally, Tim sighs. 

“You’ll do your best to kill the good in him, but remember death is never permanent. Not for an al Ghul. Do more than that and I’ll come for you. I don’t care what destiny says.” 

Talia’s hands itch for her knives, but she does not reach. She knows better. “When will you return?” 

“When I’m needed.” He turns to meet her eyes, small but oh so fierce. “Teach him well, Talia. Show him what he needs to know to survive.” 

He’s gone before she can respond. They both know she will do nothing less. 

(Still, he scares her; Talia al Ghul is not meant to be afraid of anything.) 

[artistdove]

Can't have too much Mickey and Oswald now can we, lol. I drew these a while ago, so designs for these alternate universe may/will change

Y'all are welcome to ask about them cuz these will collect dust

[diazsdimples]

Fuck It Friday/ Inspiration Saturday

Tagged by @wikiangela @actuallyitsellie @jesuisici33 @hippolotamus @wildlife4life @exhuastedpigeon @neverevan @spotsandsocks @theotherbuckley @cal-daisies-and-briars for Friday, tagging you all back for Saturday (sorry if I missed anyone, I am SO behind on my notifications)

Okay it's Saturday here but I'm sure it's still Friday somewhere right?? HAPPY BI BUCK TO EVERYONE!!!! This fic is inspired entirely by That Kiss, and it sparked me to make a 7x06 spec fic. So, please enjoy what will hopefully be the only snippet (godwilling) of the Why Are Buck and Eddie So Dirty At Madney's Wedding fic. This snippet is from the very beginning and yes, it is Bucktommy (for now), no I will not apologise for it. Enjoy!

“You-you’ve never called me that before” he breathes. Tommy brushes the pad of his thumb over Buck’s bottom lip, releasing it from his teeth. He brushes his other hand through Buck’s hair, fingers threading through his yet-to-be-tamed curls. “What, baby?” he asks, grinning as Buck’s eyes flutter shut at the utterance of the name once again. “Is that okay?” ‘Y-yeah,” Buck nods, leaning forwards to brush their noses together again, angling his face up in an implicit request for a kiss. “I kinda liked it.” Tommy hums out a laugh and Buck feels it reverberate deep in his chest. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he says softly, and he hooks his finger under Buck’s chin, just like he did the first time they kissed, and captures Buck’s lips with his. Every time he’s kissed by Tommy, Buck is introduced to a whole other side of the word “soft”. He’s had the feminine “soft” plenty of times, with the way Abby would curl into him after a long shift, or how Ali would brush his hair from his forehead with her nimble fingers, and even on the rare occasion with Taylor, when she was sleepy and would crawl into his arms and fall asleep in seconds.  With Tommy, it’s different. Tommy holds Buck like he’s a fragile egg, smoothing his thumbs over the cracks and balancing him in his palm. He’s soft in the way he holds Buck to his chest, or the way he kisses Buck’s hair while they’re watching a movie, or how he knows when Buck’s had a bad shift and needs to get out of his head for a bit, and will come over with pizza and beer and promises of kisses.  He’s soft in the way he presses his palm to the small of Buck’s back when they’re out together, but not as if he’s pushing Buck in a certain direction. More like he’s grounding Buck, showing him that he’s allowed to be out, happy, with a man.

tagging @watchyourbuck @daffi-990 @bidisasterbuckdiaz @rainbow-nerdss @babybibuck @evanbegins @fortheloveofbuddie @spagheddiediaz @loserdiaz @giddyupbuck @aroeddiediaz @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @kitteneddiediaz @elvensorceress @thekristen999 @smilingbuckley @epicbuddieficrecs @underwater-ninja-13 @shortsighted-owl @loveyouanyway (also sorry if I've missed anyone, so many have changed urls and I can't keep up sksksks)

[terracyte]

a rainbow at your fingertips!!

[cowsnotcrows]

Qi Rong and Guzi WIP :))))))

Im weak for the “horrible person is actually a good parent” trope T-T