#someday this fic will be done.

[gingerteaonthetardis]

sometimes i think about what we could have had if spike showed up two episodes earlier, during when she was bad. like with buffy's whole flirtation with being the loner rebel girl and the lashing out at angel stuff, imagine how crazy it would have gone if she'd wound up dirty dancing not with xander but with the season's main villain. who also happens to be angel's dickhead grandchilde. and who will eventually become an actual serious love interest. i'm sorry but that would have fucked so much

[sboochi]

Hypotetical meet-cute that turns into Jack questioning his life and Hiccup wondering who the frick is that guy staring at him from across the street

[onefey]

howdy! today is the two year anniversary of my au! to celebrate, here's various Stuff and Things, plus a design for the phantom cutlass :)

[sareen-momos-stuff]

BatSup Fic Idea (in DCEU)

Batman sacrifices himself to destroy the anti-life equation. Superman manages to defeat Darkseid. But it's too late by then. Earth is already dying. Clark has lost everyone, Ma, Lois, his team and lastly Bruce.

So with the help of Constantine, a grief stricken Clark is send to 15 years in the past to change the course of time. (Paradox? Never heard of him)

Clark wakes up in his twenty year old body and decides to role into Gotham University instead of travelling across the world to find his heritage, to be close to Batman. Batman has been operating in Gotham for merely five years now.

The first night he sees Batman and a tiny child in Robin costume jumping from one roof to another to chase after criminals, Clark breaks down crying in his dingy shoebox apartment in Gotham.

Through heaving breath it dawned onto Clark that Bruce is alive and so is Dick. He is so close and yet so far. In the past timeline Clark had been in love with the man for years but he never could master the courage to confess. But when he did it was too late.

Clark had confessed when Bruce had been in the middle of absorbing the anti-life equation. He did it to stop him from sacrificing himself . To make him chose to live for Clark at least. Bruce had lost everyone in the battle, his sons, his father figure. He had nothing to live for. But Clark had hoped that Bruce would choose to live for him.

But it didn't happen. He had died to give Clark a chance to win against Darkseid. Everyone always dies because of Clark. Strongest superhero but he can't save anyone.

Not this time. This time Clark will save everyone. He'll be a better. He'll help Bruce to create the strongest superhero team to defeat Darkseid. He'll protect him from all harm.

It's okay if Bruce doesn't reciprocate his feelings. His feelings doesn't matter.

.

Bruce would like to know why the sad looking puppy of a college kid loitering around Gotham and helping Batman.

He helped Batman when he crashed into his apartment after inhaling Scarecrow's toxin gas and then he gave Robin a piece of pie when he came to get Batman.

The same young man had carried Dick to the Wayne Manor in a snowfall when teen had run away from home after a fight. He wasn't even properly dressed for Gotham winter!! He gave his only coat to Dick to keep him warm!!

Noone in Gotham is that kind! Either he is an alien or he has some ulterior motive!

Bruce is determined to find out what his motive is.

"Maybe he's just a good young man, Master Bruce."

"And a good cook!"

He's also very adorable in his sad puppy demeanor. But that doesn't matter! Bruce will know what he wants no matter what.

Is it necessary to turn into his sugar daddy for that? No. But he has the money and the kid could use a few more nice clothes. And then when he is vulnerable Bruce can eat him -*cough- I mean get his secret.

[bunnakit]

{cross posting from bluesky} i feel so silly crying bc i'll no longer be writing fic but i feel like i'm grieving my fics i worked so hard on.

what really solidified it for me was i put a sex scene in my recent fic update, it made sense for the story and what was going on but it didn't NEED to be there, i had put it in just to see if that would get more people to read it.

and it worked. i got several replies on my posts saying people were interested now. why did it take sex for you to be interested? it's a story full of rich world building and a complex plot about what it means to be 'human' but you wouldn't read it unless there was some dick in ass? that's not what the story is about.

so that really just frustrated me and made me realize that what i'm trying to accomplish isn't something well suited for a fanfic space that is largely just meant to be self indulgent fluff and porn. (at least in kpop fanfic spaces)

but yeah. today's update will be the last fanfic update from me. i'm not doing it anymore. sorry for leaving these stories half finished. i'll probably just leave Buried Treasure and Afterimage on ao3 for now. Afterimage might get reworked into an original story and once it does i'll probably take it down but it'll be there for now.

i really appreciate anyone that supported my fics, even if it was quietly. i just don't think i fit into the fanfic space anymore or maybe i'm just too sensitive or not built for it idk.

thanks for having me. i'll still be around reading fanfics here and there but prob not to the same degree i used to.

all this being said, i'm not quitting WRITING. i'm just moving onto original works only, so you'll still see me being annoying about stuff and posting my writing, it'll just be 100% either from my own brain or an off shoot of a world my friend has built that i've been assisting with.

[gilbirda]

*opens the Danny Arkham Security Guard file*

last updated July 2022

[honkshoo-zzz]

eepy and sleeby

[meadow-roses]

oh hu? what's this? I wonder how they get separated hu? what has she been up to?

[nightmun]

Couple small drawings of Ian and Ada in my normal style

[parkitaco]

mike in his anti-hero era fr

[bevioletskies]

bad buddy’s one-year anniversary | one scene per episode ↳ episode twelve (original air date: january 21st, 2022)

“We might not be able to change people around us, but they couldn’t change the two of us, either.”

[jessicas-pi]

One does not simply ignore the fact that you fake-kissed while on a mission.

Sabine and Ezra had not spoken in sixteen days.

People were getting suspicious.

Something had to be done.

So, Sabine woman’d up, and cornered Ezra in the Phantom.

“We need to talk,” she announced, a little more menacingly than she meant to.

She kind of expected him to panic and start stammering, but instead he let out a huge sigh of relief.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “We really need to talk.”

“Yeah…” Sabine echoed, suddenly unsure where to go with the conversation. She’d prepared this in her head with him being freaked out, not with him just as eager to get this talked over as she was.

“I don’t think pretending it didn’t happen is working,” he said, after a long pause.

“Brilliant observation, genius. What could possibly have clued you in?” she asked, defaulting to sarcasm before she could stop herself.

Ezra took it with a grin. “I think it was the time you were so concentrated on not looking at me that you walked into a door.”

She… had no idea where to go with that. Because he was right. She’d walked into a door because of him and his stupid pretty eyes. (Not that he knew about the stupid pretty eyes part.)

Ezra flipped down one of the seats, and gestured for her to sit across from him. She did, and he leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands.

“Remember how I said you were the best friend I could ever have asked for?” he asked.

“I think your exact words were coolest friend.”

“Best friend, coolest friend… either way.” Ezra seemed to gather himself, then spoke quickly. “Kissing is not something the average person does with their best coolest friend.”

Sabine startled so hard she almost fell out of her seat. “Okay, when I said we needed to talk about it, I didn’t mean so—bluntly—”

He held up his hands and gave her a pleading look. “Just hear me out?”

“…fine. Whatever.”

“Pretending we didn’t kiss is just going to kriff up everything.”

Sabine cleared her throat, feeling red creep up her cheeks. “Can we just… not say…  the, uh… ‘k-word’?”

“Sure. Pretending we didn’t kiss is just going to mess up everything.”

“That wasn’t the k-word I was—”

Sabine stopped as she saw the smile on his face.

He was joking.

But... oh, karabast, that smile.

Her heart started rattling a rapid beat in her chest and she was suddenly short on breath.

She stood up quickly, which did not help with either of those problems. “I need my helmet for this discussion.”

[necrotic-nephilim]

Tell me why Kara Zor-L is one of my your favs! I'm been meaning to make the jump from the CW show to the comics. Any recommendations?

- @cicero-in-gotham

@cicero-in-gotham oh i would LOVE to!! Kara Zor-L is my darling beloved.

firstly for suggestions, i'll be honest Kara can be... a hard character to read for. you have to slog through a lot of really shitty "male gaze" content to get scraps of interesting stuff. the top comics i'd recommend are

Power Girl: Power Trip

Power Girl Returns

Power Girl (2023)

some people like Harley Quinn & Power Girl. i'll be honest... i did not. and Power Girl (2009) has... ups and downs, is the nicest way i'll say it. but it's also solid for what it is. certainly better than her New-52 content so i can't really complain.

anyhow, i always am enamoured by characters who are disconnected from their "family", especially due to trauma. bc no one really counts Power Girl as part of the Superfamily. and even within the Superfamily if people are talking about the "outcast" of the family, they always say Kon. (which, eh? maybe New-52!Kon but i wouldn't say the main Kon is an outcast, his issues are internal) but to me, Kara far better suites that role. it's one thing to be one of the last survivors of Krypton. it's another thing to be one of the last survivors of your entire *universe* as well. she lost everyone, *twice*.

i adore characters who feel like imposters and Kara is *peak* imposter syndrome. everything about her identity is constructed around not feeling like a "real" Super, or a "real" Zor-L. she has to live with knowing she's on an earth that has Supergirl, meaning they don't need her. she didn't wear the S crest for so long even on her own earth, because she felt like she didn't server it.the only thing she feels like she has going for her is her sexual appeal and so it's so amped up she lacks a personality outside of it. she has been isolated again and again by her trauma and she struggles to face her grief, masking with humor and oversexual appearances. i find that to be so interesting. she lost *everything*, twice. and now she's an imposter who will always hold herself at a distance from the Supers because she doesn't want to make them uncomfortable with her existence. she has to live on an Earth and know everyone is... slightly off. she has Clark, but it's not *her* Clark. she has the Justice Society of America, but it's not *her* JSA. and she doesn't have her best friend, Helena Wayne at *all*, because this earth has Helena Bertinelli as Huntress. (unless you count New Golden Age stuff but that's future timeline nonsense)

i find Kara's lack of identity interesting, and the way she just sort of drifts. she has done a lot of things, but lacks a sense of self importance bc she will never view herself as a "real" Kryptonian of this universe. she's just so neat to me. i also love the JSA personally, they're one of my favorite superhero teams, so i love any character connected to the JSA, they're always so underrated.

the Power Girl Special (which is collected in Power Girl Returns) is like, genuinely one of my favorite single issues ever. that comic just lives in my bones. it also has one of the *best* internal monologues i've ever read. something something comics are art. this is cutting some stuff out but just to show you have beautiful the writing is, this is an excerpt from that comic

people tend to think of hatred as love's opposite. but i disagree- i think hatred is just love's sharpened edge. it's the same passion. the same potency, the same intensity. just a different flavor. so no, hatred isn't love's opposite. grief is. grief is the void left behind after something you once loved was violently ripped away. grief is what happens in love's sudden absence. love is when your cup runneth over. but grief is hollow. a chasm. there is no negotiating with grief. it does what it wants to you, when it wants. you will never outgrow or outrun it. but... you can find ways to grow around it. i never got to say goodbye. i was loved, once. i was once loved so much that my life was prioritized above all else. i will never feel worthy of that love or sacrifice. but i'm realizing now that to freeze or falter in the shadow of that love is the only way to fail their sacrifice. i have to live in the light. i can step out into the sunlight, and still carry them with me.

like that is??? so Character to me. she is Everything. i'm just. so unwell over her internal struggles and how she faces the world, i cannot recommend her enough. she means the world to me and that comic has stuck with me since i read it for it's conversation about handling grief. i am begging everyone to be a Power Girl fan i know she's confusing but once you get the hang of her backstory she's so cool i swear-

[paradisecas]

MIDAM ANNIVERSARY MIDAM ANNIVERSARY. i was supposed to have the proposal fic finished by midam anniversary 2023 and wouldnt you know it im STILL not done. but i want to celebrate so here’s the very beginning, which takes place right before last year’s preview.

——

“Miss Plumber says she got married and we can call her Mrs. Jacobs now,” Bunny says over dinner. She tears at her roll a little too violently, mushing butter between her fingers. Adam knows she’ll refuse to use a napkin and that he and Michael will spend half an hour after bathtime wiping greasy smudges off every surface in the house. He mourns the rags he’ll have to wash tomorrow.

“That’s exciting,” Adam says, picking his battles and letting her continue getting all buttery. “Getting married is a big deal.”

Kitty starts to say something, but she’s still chewing her massive bite of spaghetti and Michael, who has a sixth sense for these things, shoots her a warning look. Kitty, of course, takes this warning as an excuse to open her mouth and let the unchewed mass plop onto her plate in her hurry to say, “Tony from my class said his dad got married too and that he doesn’t see his mom a lot anymore ‘cause she married someone else first.”

Michael’s admonishment dies out immediately. Adam actually watches it happen—his grace goes from indignantly disgusted to rapturously curious in a split second. “Oh?” he says, and Adam kicks him under the table.

This is not the time or place to press their child for gossip.

(That’s what the PTA group chat is for, anyway. Someone’s bound to know what went on with David and Amanda.)

“Sometimes things are complicated,” Adam decides to say.

“Very complicated,” Michael says, a little too gleeful, and Adam kicks him again.

“Miss Plumber showed us some pictures,” Bunny starts again, smearing her buttered hands along the tabletop, but Liv starts babbling around her green beans so Adam is forced to tune Bunny out in favor of his youngest. Michael will tell him anything he’s missed.

Her bib patterned with small turtles is stained red, not just from tonight, and Adam tries to add laundry to the to-do list on the fridge through sheer force of will, but. He’s not an archangel. He’ll have to remember to do that later.

When Liv is back to happily gnawing on her dinner, Adam turns back to the table’s conversation, just in time to hear Kitty ask, “Are you married?”

Adam blinks. Michael catches his eye across the table and shrugs with one shoulder.

“We’re not,” Adam says.

“Why?”

“It’s a human thing,” Michael says. “Angels don’t get married.”

“Oh.” Kitty looks down at her plate, almost forlorn. Then, again, “Why?”

“Angels are siblings, ergo we don’t get married,” Michael says, which is simplifying things to a ridiculous degree, but they can cover—that—later. When the girls are older. Much, much older.

Kitty nods. “Right,” she says, going to shove another forkful of spaghetti in her mouth and seemingly thinking better of it. “But you love each other?”

“Of course we do,” Michael says immediately.

It’s a valiant effort, truly, but Adam fails to squash down the smile that takes over. “Of course we do,” he repeats, “but we’re—it’s romantic and exciting, but we don’t need that.”

Because they don’t. It’s been—they’ve been together long enough that technically, probably, they’re considered common law married. Or they would be, if Michael was a human with a social security number and a place in the American census or whatever it takes to get legally married. And it’s not like they need a piece of paper or some rings to hammer in the knowledge that they’re it for each other, for the literal rest of time.

“Why?” Bunny asks, taking her turn in the inquisition.

“Why don’t we need it?” Adam asks. “We love each other. And we love you, and that’s enough.”

Kitty hums around her spaghetti. Liv shoves her sauce covered fingers into her mouth. Bunny hmphs, and says, “You should get married.”

Something flickers inside Adam, then. Not grace—this is different. Closer to what he felt in that diner, mere hours after they fled the tsunami of hell and neither he nor Michael were ready to admit the full truth of what they wanted from each other at the same time as they carefully confessed that they knew they’d figure it out together.

Michael meets his eyes, and Adam thinks he might feel it too: the red-hot flame, somehow gentle as a candle as it roars in an inferno.

Huh. Something to think about, then.

[vakarianshepard]

N7 Day 2- Reflection

I had several ideas for this; but since the ME2 love theme is called Reflections, I thought I would write my take on the shakarian pre SM scene :)

Garrus POV; ~1.2 k words

The rumble of the engines was the only sound in the battery. Garrus sat on a crate, head bowed. His omni-tool flashed with a new message twice, then went dark again. His shoulders hunched under the weight of his sister’s words. Mom’s treatments weren’t working anymore. Sol was upset, and why wouldn’t she be? Why shouldn’t she be?  Damn it, he thought, I’m just a washed-up vigilante playing Spectre. How can—

He sat there, staring at his feet for several minutes, mind replaying his regrets in vivid color.  Sighing, he straightened up and steeled himself; this was it. He didn’t want to fight with her; not on the way to a likely suicide mission. He shook his head, trying and failing to clear his thoughts. 

“You’re right, Sol,” he typed, “I’m sorry.” 

Her reply was immediate, “No, I’m sorry. Things are rough with Mom, and the salarians are expensive.” 

Garrus felt something twist in his chest, a deep, aching pang of guilt, helplessness; hell, he wasn’t even sure. “I wish I could help,” he replied, feeling woefully inadequate. He wanted to reassure her; he wanted to tell her that he’d come back soon. That he could keep his word this time. But, as the Normandy glided toward her fate, whatever that might be, he couldn’t bring himself to make another empty promise. Instead, he continued, “I’m going on a trip. Might be away from the relays for a while. Tell Mom—tell her I’m thinking of her.” 

Solana answered back with a joke, and he accepted it for the olive branch it was. He promised to call her back when he could; he hoped he would get the chance to. Joker’s voice cut through the ship, “ETA to Omega-4 relay 2 hours,” and he jolted. Damn, that didn’t leave much time to get ready and get to Shepard. He grabbed the bottle of wine he’d picked up on Illium and stopped to examine his reflection. He grimaced at the angry scarring that marred the right side of his face. Months later, it looked better, but he’d only recently gotten the nerve to stop wearing the bandages that covered it. Garrus smoothed his free hand over his tunic one last time, then left the battery, an odd sense of calm washing over him at the prospect of seeing Shepard. 

He could hear her humming as he got off the elevator. At once, he felt the anxiety return, every second of research he’d done flying out of his mind. Crap. Too late to turn back now, he tapped the panel, the door opening to reveal Alexa toweling off her short red hair. She turned as the door opened, a smile breaking across her face, disarming him. His heart skipped a couple beats. 

“Hey there,” she said easily, tossing the towel into the bathroom behind her. 

“Hey. . . I brought wine. Best I could afford on a vigilante’s salary,” he stumbled over his words, trying to regain his cool. “Uh—,” he spotted the stereo control on the wall behind her. Music. That was usually part of this whole. . . stress relief thing. At least in the vid Joker had sent him. He pressed a couple buttons, and terrible pop music started blaring out of the speakers. Wincing internally, he turned back to her, checking for her reaction. She shook her head, smile still in place as she approached him. He soldiered on, feeling more idiotic by the second. 

“Well, if you were a turian, I’d be complimenting your waist, or your fringe. So, uh—your hair looks good, and your waist is. . . very supportive.” Alexa raised her eyebrows, her expression turning bemused. Crap. “Hopefully, that’s not offensive to humans. I knew I should’ve watched the vids. Come on, Shep—” He fell silent as she stepped up into his space, placing a comforting hand on his chest. 

Her tone was light, but her eyes softened as they met his. “Consider me seduced, smooth talker. Shut up and stop worrying,” she teased, “it’s just me.” Alexa sidestepped to shut off the music, and Garrus felt his shoulders sag. 

The weight of the last two years came crashing down: leaving C-sec after her death, Archangel, Sidonis’ betrayal, Shepard’s return, his mom’s health, his conversation with Sol. This new something growing between them. His mind raced, and his heartbeat quickened. He hadn’t even realized how deeply he cared for her until she was gone, until he realized that he would never get to see her smile, or hear her laugh, or tease him ever again. She was gone; better not to think about the depth of that loss. 

Better to throw himself into something he could change, something he could fix.  So he did, until he couldn’t, until he failed, surrounded by the bodies of the people he was supposed to protect. Until Shepard came back from death to save him again, and all that grief and—could he call it love—came rushing back in. Until she brought up “relieving tension” after Sidonis, he hadn’t even allowed himself to call it anything but admiration, friendship.

The weeks since her offer had been strangely peaceful, at least by their standards. As they hurtled ever closer to the suicide mission, they had come together so naturally, without much discussion. He came up to her quarters, or she sat in the battery, working on their reports, spending time in quiet contemplation. Every time she smiled at him, every time her hand brushed his arm, it was overwhelming, exhilarating, and terrifying. Just being near her made him feel both grounded and completely untethered. 

He never imagined, especially after Omega, that there was a chance she could ever—that she would ever see him as anything more than a friend. I should consider myself lucky she even does that, he thought, almost bitterly. His hands trembled, and Alexa gently took the bottle of wine from him, setting it on the desk behind her. He raised his head, finding her still watching him, her face growing serious and concerned. She opened her mouth, about to speak, but he shook his head, cutting her off. “The thing is, I—I’ve just seen so many things go wrong, my work at C-Sec, what happened with Sidonis. I want something to go right. Just once. . .” he trailed off. 

Alexa tilted her head, and he closed his eyes briefly.  He inhaled shakily, as her warm hand cupped his face. “Garrus,” she said softly, her fingertips ghosting across his scars. Emboldened by the fact she hadn’t told him to get the hell out yet, he reached for her, catching her hands in his. She stepped closer, into his arms. “You’ve got me,” she whispered, intertwining her fingers with his, “It’s us. How could it go wrong?” 

She smiled crookedly, and he realized that she was just as nervous as he was. He leaned down, careful, slow enough that she could pull back if she wanted to, and gently rested his head against hers. After a breath, she leaned into him, eyes closed, and he could feel the tension leaching from her body. They stood there for a few moments, fully immersed in each other; the only sound was their breathing and his pounding heartbeat. 

Garrus reached up to caress her face, and Alexa, eyes still closed, turned her cheek into his palm. His chest bloomed with warmth. How could it go wrong, he thought to himself. With Shepard, anything was possible. He didn’t reply, almost afraid to jinx it. For once, as she stretched up to kiss him, as he tilted his head to meet her lips, he let himself believe—if only for a moment—that they might make it. 

[thisisallthehattersfault]

Behind him, there is movement. The sharp, sudden clang of metal against metal. Lan Wangji glances briefly over his shoulder.

Perhaps predictably, Su She has decided to try and strike at his exposed back, like the dishonorable coward he is. A fool, as well, for having apparently forgotten the presence of the Ghost General despite insulting the man only a moment ago. The tip of Su She’s blade is trembling against one of Wen Ning’s chain-wrapped forearms, the trailing length of those chains pooling at his feet where they writhe like twisting like snakes, rearing to strike. Lan Wangji’s next breath brings with it the tang of resentful energy. He has already turned his attention back to the scroll.

There is more movement, though Lan Wangji doesn’t pay enough attention to discern what exactly may be happening. Wen Ning’s presence stays at his back, cool and steady as a fortress wall. “You!” Su She’s voice reaches an irritating pitch. “How dare you, you think even you have the right to look down on me?!” He makes a noise not unlike a wild boar before it charges. “You aren’t even human! I thought Lan Wangji was the most arrogant man I’d ever met, but you clearly outclass him there. You’re nothing but the Yiling Patriarch’s dog! Undead servant mutt!”

That, at last, gets Lan Wangji to pay more than a sparse fraction of attention. He has to peer around Wen Ning, who is still standing between them, a marble pillar separating Lan Wangji from Su Minshan. And, it would seem, the embarrassing clump of Moling Su and Lanling Jin cultivators slowly filling the cavern. “Dog?” Lan Wangji repeats, softly. Wen Ning does not visibly shift, but the black veins in his neck pulse, just once, ever so faintly. Resentment in the air smells like tar, sharp and thick.

Su She’s disciples pick up his call, loudly proclaiming the contemptible nature of the Ghost General, the Yiling Patriarch’s filthy, flea-ridden Wen-dog bitch, unfit to be even called a servant by way of his inhuman nature. Lan Wangji listens to very little of it. His eyes are on the part of Wen Ning’s face he can see from this angle, smooth and jade-pale as a porcelain mask, almost colorless in the low light if not for the yawning blackness of his eyes.

“You think he’s your dog, too?” Su She’s voice reaches a new and grating pitch, all inflated self-importance. “Hanguang-Jun, your arrogance knows no bounds! He’ll bite you the second his master has no use for you anymore. You’re not special, you’ve only fallen for the Yiling Patriarch’s tricks!”

Lan Wangji gives that statement exactly as much consideration as it deserves. Before Su She has even finished speaking, Lan Wangji is calling, softly, “Wen Ning?"

Wen Ning cocks his head to the side, bird-like, considering the embarrassment in front of him for a moment. Then he turns his face to Lan Wangji, looking at him with his big, dark eyes.

He answers: “Woof.”

Lan Wangji flicks a glance briefly at the advancing gaggle of cultivators. He and Wen Ning really are well and truly surrounded now. Then he turns back to the scroll, and once again lowers his charcoal to paper.

“Sick ‘em, boy,” he says. He does not raise his head again until the screaming has stopped.