#red lighting my beloved

[ourfavoritetorturedwriter]

[min-play]

become ungovernable

[py-dreamer]

Here's a thingy related to the birthday art again! But this time it's just focused on the cute characters!

(Yes Red Son is sitting in Mk's lap what about it?)

Traffic light trio are just having the best time and good for them.

Tang is surprised and is in Pigsy's lap. Good for them

Sandy and Chang'e love their companions/pets

And Macaque and Wukong take care of their grandchildren monkeys

(pls y'all I just don't want this to flop

[deceased-vermin]

themmmmm 💚💛❤️

[mariposiel]

Guess who just turned 21?? 🎉🎂

[cut-aare]

Scribble dump ft. MK and Red Son!!! (More of a blending mode and brushes experiment)

[synthshenanigans]

the Identity lacking knowledge of its identity

[fun alt repeating thing above & neat alt versions below]

[leoivys]

𝑯𝑰𝑺 𝑭𝑨𝑽𝑶𝑹𝑰𝑻𝑬 𝑪𝑶𝑳𝑶𝑹 – 𝑱𝑨𝑺𝑶𝑵 𝑻𝑶𝑫𝑫

– contents; angst with a sprinkle of fluff for good measures.

– summary; in their early stages of life, most humans tend to grow fond and form a kind of bond with their favorite color. It's always the same color that will either follow them or haunt them for the rest of their spent time on earth, constantly reminding them of their memories.

– word count; 1.3k

Every person has a favorite color, right?

Well, Jason didn't have a favorite color. Sure, when he was Robin, he had chosen green as his favorite of the entire color palette, one that represented his hopes for the future awaiting him.

However, after the physical and mental suffering he went through, he was just a kid trying to serve justice to the poor world under that hero mask that he once wore with pride; Joker's plans had something else in store for him. The association of the color green with the psychotic clown that haunted him and then the same situation with his resurrection in the Lazarus Pit. He no longer wanted anything to do with it.

The bitter truth is he never bothered to think about such a silly question. Yet here he was, discussing how humans have some sort of bond with their favorite color their whole life. And here you were, guessing his favorite color after you had explained to him all about yours.

Ever since he was brought back from the dead, Jason had found himself endlessly trying to understand why Bruce refused to avenge his death. Why someone who was legally considered family, who had raised him, trained him, and molded him into what he had become, refuse to overstep that stupid boundary? Maybe Jason wasn’t worth it. Not as much as Dick, who was always the golden child. Or maybe Bruce’s rule as Batman—his only rule—meant more than any bond they had ever shared. The thought of it made his chest tighten. Every time he allowed himself to drown in the idea, no matter how much he tried to convince himself that his thoughts were not true, it stung like an open wound. It was like a scar that refused to heal, a constant reminder of the life he’d lost and the man who refused to act on his behalf. It consumed him, more than he'd like to admit—this lingering doubt, this burning question that gnawed at his every thought. And the worst part was that he didn’t know how he’d ever be able to move past it.

He was overwhelmed by this trance of thoughts almost daily, especially when everything around him fell into an unsettling quiet. The silence only added to the weight of his frustration and self-doubt. He couldn’t stop wondering if Bruce had seen something in him, something different from the criminals he fought, then what made him so unworthy after his death? That day, when Bruce had found him committing a crime—a genuine crime—Jason had been desperate, angry, and broken. But hadn’t he been the same boy Bruce had taken in, trained, and called family? What had changed? Jason would search amongst any file in the Batcave to satisfy his curiosity and maybe ease his frustration. In Jason's mind, he was always the same. No matter what his title was, it never defined him as a personality – he was always rough around the edges, but he wasn't cold before.

So, matters such as favorite colors had become childish for him, and he – being the infamous Red Hood – definitely had other plans than to sit down with the only neighbor he could trust and bond within this whole building on a rooftop and discuss subjects for mere children who were just exploring their inner world.

But at least one of you found it entertaining and considered it a good way to get to know each other a little better without getting too personal or touching a sensitive subject on accident. Or so you thought. At first, you didn't quite catch the changes in his body language; how he sulked and tensed even more, making himself smaller in the space he was in every time you took a new guess.

Jason's mind spun with all these questions, and silence seemed to stretch endlessly around him. The weight of his thoughts pressed on his chest, but just as he began to slip further into his spiral of defeat, a familiar voice broke through the silence.

“Maybe... red?” Your voice snapped him out of his trance, his teal eyes finding yours while he readjusted his position to lean back on his hands in an attempt to gain time or avoid the question altogether. Soon, Jason let out a give-in sigh and subtly cocked his head to the side when he realized you wouldn't change the subject.

Jason smiled to himself, his gaze focusing on the dark night sky above the two of you for a second; the stars were barely visible tonight as anything other than his inner turmoil seemed peaceful before he looked back at you. He was processing your guess and taking his time to put his thoughts and feelings into words, which he always struggled with, and even when his sentences were formed, they couldn't leave his throat without it hurting.

The vigilante rolled his shoulders in an attempt to ease the tension that he didn't even realize was weighing down on him, his hands embracing the coldness of the concrete underneath his fingertips as he tapped a quiet melody against it and allowed the coolness of the material and the faint sounds of the City and the street below ground him.

“Sure, red.” His reply was plain, with uncertainty creeping into his voice without his notice. You noticed it no matter how much he tried to play it off, and the confusion etched on your face seemed to amuse him, if anything.

You took a second to gauze his expression before you muttered, “You don't sound very convinced.” The words in your admission hung in the air for a moment before they earned you a low, brief chuckle from the back of his throat.

Jason let out a long exhale. He earned himself some time to search his mess of a mind to find whatever he possibly could to justify the tension that stuck onto his skin with a pathetic excuse or a stupid lie that he could only hope that you'd buy without a second doubt. “I'm just not used to these kinds of conversations.” His voice remained steady, holding it together as his mind flooded with images of his past, the bright colors on the lining of his Robin suit, the greenish hue that gave his iris a sense of warmth – a time when he hadn't lost all of these things.

Of course, you noticed his hesitation once again. But pressuring people into keeping up with the conversation or the questions you throw at them isn't the best thing you can do to maintain a human relationship. “Is that the reason you chose your vigilante name? Or was it the little red riding hood?” You joked in a poor attempt to ease him with a slightly more light-hearted conversation.

Jason met your gaze for a moment, the corners of his lips twitching as he was briefly reminded of having his identity revealed to you. Then, he scoffed, rolling his eyes in mock exasperation, though the playful hint in his actions softened the edge of his response. “Please. I've got more layers to my personality than that.”

His response, though sharp, seemed to dissipate some of the tension that had settled between the two of you. The air felt a little less thick, a little less heavy. For a moment, it almost felt normal again, as if the weight of everything wasn’t pressing down on either of you.

If only he were to admit that green used to be his favorite color, of what remained of the old him anyway – but at this point, he reckoned it was time to move on from the past and let the color paint the walls of someone else's memories, someone who could still see it for the life and hope it once stood for.

– a/n; there might be some grammar and spelling mistakes. also, I wrote Jason based on the UTRH movie. either way, thank you for reading this & have a nice day ♡

[sluckythewizard]

[PUT INTO PLACE, TIED DOWN AND ARRANGED, AND IS NEVER THE SAME, AGAIN.]<-listen to my favorite songs. VAMPIRES ARE WONDERFUL ARENT THEY. THE FLESH IS SO MUCH MORE DURABLE. SO MUCH STRETCHIER THAN HUMANS. THE STRESS DOESNT KILL A VAMPIRE THE SAME WAY IT DOES A HUMAN. YOU CAN TAKE THEM APART THREAD BY THREAD AND LEAVE THEM WIDE AWAKE WITHOUT WORRY OF THE BRAINMATTER SPOILING UNDER VINEGARY AGONY.

[fountainpenguin]

"Though we both know one day there'll be blood on the floor... but which one will betray the other more?" (x)

New Fairly OddParents 'fic today!

Rated T - 6,900 words

50 Words of Dale and Vicky

📖 Read on FFN || Read on AO3

🌃 City Lights AU

✨ More Fairly OddParents 'fics

🎲 Randomlists.com's 50-word generator

50 scene snippets about two inseparable BFFs and a string of bad decisions. Predates lemon pit torture.

OR, Dale and Vicky were friends when they were kids.

(First 5 prompts under the cut)

50 Words of Dale and Vicky Friday August 14th, 1992 - Friday April 14th, 1995 Summer of the Pink Star - Spring of the Small Sunflower

1. Balance

Even Dad raised an eyebrow at the redhead who took the mutton bustin' like a piece of sticky tape. The sheep charged through the Dimmsdale Dimmadome's mucky arena, the girl thumping up and down on its back. With every second she clung, the crowd surged higher and higher with excitement- cheering already! Did she sew her sleeves to its wool or something? 6-year-old Dale, safe behind the chute fence, braced his arms a little straighter; craned his neck a little higher.

"Whoa… She's cruisin' like a roadrunner."

One flump of a small body later, the little girl went tumbling through the muck. But she won, of course (and scored the traditional belt buckle emblem plus a set of 4 family tickets to Wave 'N Rage to prove it). The girl cheered into Dad's microphone and jumped up and down. Watching some black-haired woman and a redheaded guy (who must be her two parents) fawn over her, Dale had to wonder… if she had any siblings.

That was wicked…

Her name was Vicky Aingeal. And he was about to be the best friend she never asked for.

2. Cattle

The next time he saw her, it was at the state fair. The scruffy scarlet ponytail hadn't changed. She wolfed down a funnel cake at a table, her parents to either side (and sharing their own). Powdered sugar smeared her lips and fingers. That stuff had to be so greasy… but it looked delicious. Dale, who had already been a Bright Young Man and a Very Well-Behaved Good Boy (semi-interchangeably) for the past 5 minutes while his dad talked about cows and bovine and steer and heifers with Mr. So-'N-So (Cue laughter; they were friends), decided he'd finished standing in the hot sun, bouncing on his toes. He darted his gaze between Vicky and the back of his dad's head. Another 20 seconds flickered by. This time, Dale's stomach even growled. And if that wasn't a sign, what was?

"Dad-"

Dad didn't stop talking, but he did move his hand to Dale's shoulder and gave a quiet squeeze. Not now, said the gesture, so Dale went quiet. He played with the big brim of his hat, staring at Vicky and her funnel cake until she stopped eating and raised her head. Their eyes flicked across each other. Dale jumped and glanced away. Back to the cattle. The Dimmadomes showed fat and healthy cows every year at… the cow-showing event. "Open dairy," Dad called it with his friends (SO awesome; all fancy). Dale never remembered the name except this time of year, but he definitely knew cows.

"Dad," Dale tried again. But dad kept talking, squeezing his arm again, so Dale went quiet for real and softly picked at his nose. The grown-ups talked cows, milk, and hormones… And when that all wrapped up, Doug scooped him up and set him on his hip in one shwoop.

"Now, what's all the fuss, son? What's got your knickknack paddy whacking?"

"Dad, I want a funnel cake."

Doug Dimmadome (owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome) threw an unreadable glance at the table where Vicky and her parents ate. It might've been unreadable because Dale was only 6. "Too risky, kiddo. It's probably got dairy. Now come on, son- You wanna lead the herd with me?"

3. Instrument

"Huh," was the first thing Vicky said when she came across the refrigerated butter sculpture. Seriously? Three giant cows playing in a band? "Pretty weird." It was a huge amount of butter and that was kinda impressive all in all, but… did it serve any purpose? It wouldn't last. Who would want to keep that thing cold for months? Even winter wouldn't get cold enough to not melt it. She looked for a price tag, a card- anything that indicated it might be for sale. Was this thing just donated? Free of charge? I wouldn't want it either, but that feels like a waste. I'm sure SOMEONE would buy it. Some kind of stupid, rich…

She was still there, leaning so close to the clear case, her nose could've touched the nearest instrument, when someone tapped her shoulder. She yelped, hit the case (with her face), and spun around. "Who-? … Oh." That weird kid who'd been staring at her while she ate lunch. When Vicky blinked at him, he pushed the brim of his big hat up with one thumb. He even smiled.

"I saw you at the mutton bustin'."

"The what?"

"You rode the sheep? Most people don't stay on that long."

"Oh, yeah. That sheep was a loser."

The kid blinked, like he actually cared about some random sheep's feelings or something. Honestly, with a name like mutton bustin', whoever was in charge of that thing probably cooked it up and ate it by now. "Well," said the kid, pretty slow on the word. He put out his hand. "I'm Dale… Donovan. And you're Vicky, right?"

"Uh, are you following me?"

4. Sheet

He showed her the chicken tent, the pigs, and the cattle (with their parents trailing behind, of course- Dad had a lot of business to talk and Vicky's parents didn't seem to mind he was there, even if Vicky still gave him weird sideways looks like she couldn't decide just what to make of him). But little by little… those shoulders that looked like tall fenceposts started coming down like a gate sinking underwater.

Then he showed her something super interesting over her shoulder while he tore down the sheet with the name Dimmadome scrawled across it. Look… Is it so wrong to want a friend who likes you without asking about your dad getting rich?

He ignored the confused looks the cows shot him as he bunched the paper in his hand.

5. Resonant

Y'know what? There was something REALLY funny about watching the awkward kid jump about 10 feet in the air (skeleton practically leaping from his skin) when a piercing whistle carried through the air.

"Th-that's my dad," Dale stuttered. "I have to go. Um. 'Bye."

Huh. So, did he not like to add the 'good' in 'good-bye' either? Maybe he's more self-aware of the crushing weight of existence than I thought. Not the worst quality in a friend.

Read on FFN || Read on AO3

[the-kipsabian]

@giftober 2024 | Day 16: "lights"

[beanghostprincess]

I need your brain to help pick apart a thought that I had in mind. What would happen if Shuggy was raised with the Whitebeard pirates? Idk what their rules are about carrying around kids in the seas but let's say they don't get docked onto the nearest island (i mean marco is in there too so)

Would Buggy be different? I think a big part of why he's insecure and why he's a "coward" is because he's standing on the shoulders of giants, he's part of the best crews of the seas and yet they expect him to be a monster like everyone else is in that ship, but in reality what if he just wants to go on adventures and get treasures without the need to sacrifice his limb and life for it? I love the Rogers pirates, and would love to believe in my heart of hearts that Buggy is as equally loved as Shanks but man, thinking about their flashback and seeing how Shanks gets the hat, and Shanks is praised by Roger and Crew, I don't think they completely understood the emotional side of how to raise children.

Which leads me to believe that Whitebeard probably knew better than Rogers and Rayleigh in that regard, he's got like so many found family kids and they're all willing to go to bat and die for their dad, and with Whitebeard wanting a family and calling his children his treasure, I think he'd be more sensitive about the feelings of his children. I think Whitebeard would help buggy understand how he differs from Shanks, but that does not make him inferior. He would probably encourage Buggy with all his inventions and bombs and slight of hand tricks.

Would Buggy also feel less alone because he sees other people in the crew who are also Whitebeard's children, and therefore he has brothers? Would he consider them family?

I haven't thought ahead with how much Shanks would change under Whitebeard, but I doubt it would change. Shanks is still star-pupil shanks, but this time instead of the crew praising him like Uncles to a nephew, it's adopted big brothers to a prodigy (also I brainrot buggy more but I think there can't be buggy without shanks and vice-versa, so they are a Do Not Separate pair)

Maybe it's just me desperately wanting buggy to have a father figure who loves him. My heart wants to believe Rogers and Rayleigh was that for him, but the manga chapters really doesn't show much about them giving him that attention, so I naturally drifted to the Dad Pirate of the Series, Whitebeard.

Thoughts?

You have a point, actually! I mean, imo, I've always thought (or liked to think) that Roger and Rayleigh loved Shanks and Buggy equally. They just treated them differently because they do have different personalities, after all. As somebody who understands Buggy's POV a lot, I think we shouldn't have to take it as the only, pure reality of all. We basically just have his POV on this situation and of course, for him, Shanks is going to be the favorite and he is going to be treated unfairly. I think most of that perception comes from his inferiority complex toward Shanks. Because yes, he was obviously the star-pupil and did get the hat and it's understandable that Buggy feels inferior. But that is not the whole truth and I don't think everything is Roger and Rayleigh's fault because of their way of raising them. I think that no matter the crew, Buggy would have still felt at least a bit of resentment and jealousy when it comes to Shanks. Shanks is just that type of person.

HOWEVER! You do have a point and it is that the Whitebeard pirates are way more family-focused and they seem to want to get the best of everybody individually. The reason why Whitebeard is so loved by his crew isn't really because of his power but because he gives them a place to belong and grow up. Roger's crew is a family too but as you said, they're giants and of course, Buggy is going to feel like a little bug in comparison if they expect him to be the same and praise Shanks for just existing when Buggy has to actually work to be seen that way.

I think these two being in that crew would've changed their personalities a bit. Buggy being more confident in himself and being raised with positive reinforcement and an environment that is actually a family would've been good for him and his self-esteem. His personality would clash with Shanks' a lot still, but you know, that's just how they are. Also, Shanks I think would be the same except that his need to please/save people would not be that strong since he doesn't have the responsibility of the world on his shoulders and no hat to deal with.

Don't get me wrong, maybe the break up would still happen. It would certainly happen, actually. Of course Roger's death wouldn't be the same for them in this context because originally he is basically their dad, and they don't have a crew to go back to and that fact adds more layers to their fight, but Buggy would still be ambitious and want to go for the One Piece, and Shanks would want to wait. And I think that no matter the context they're both stubborn and emotional and refuse to talk things out. Although maybe being with Whitebeard would help them in that context but, you know, I think Shanks and Buggy are the type of duo that NEED to break up for them to work later on in the story.

This whole AU has a lot of unsolved questions like-- Buggy's fruit and whether they'd like to leave the crew or not etc etc. But. I think the point here is more about their dynamic, right? I think they'd be more emotionally stable after all. Maybe they're more open about their issues too, and Buggy probably wouldn't have the "he made me eat the fruit and lost my map" excuse to hate Shanks. I think the big change here would be Buggy actually being dangerous and using his full potential instead of holding back. That is... Worrying. I love him.

[aestheticlarrie]

Faith in the Future World Tour, Vancouver 26.06

[py-dreamer]

Don't mind them-

Hey look at this! Giving lineless a try again huh?

let me know what y'all think!

and yes Pigsy and Tang are married and sleep in the same bedroom what about it

(based off an mha comic)

(click photo for better quallity)

reblogs > likes

(but any feedback is nice!)

[khamori]

cannot get over the implications of felix being dressed as an angel at oliver’s party

[averlym]

ghostwriter (their grandma would tell them she'd lose half her soul)