#teens in angst

[incorrectbatfam]

Tim has everyone's DNA but before he clones them he splices in genes from a sea turtle because sea turtles always find their way back home

[fadeintosatoru]

Satoru was the guy you had a crush on since middle school, and it stuck with you all through high school. Even after graduation, you still couldn’t stop thinking about him.

He was the guy who teased you endlessly. The one who knew exactly what to say to get you all riled up, just for him. He also knew and appreciated how you always helped him with classwork or homework.

He was the typical football jock that the cheerleaders fawned over, the one they dreamt of wearing his jersey to his games. They’d throw themselves at him at any chance given.

But Satoru, unbeknownst to you, only had eyes for you. And it pained him to see how oblivious you were. Couldn’t you see?

Satoru, who walked you to class every day. He’d wait outside your door and walk you to class, or carry your books or backpack for you—but friends do that, right?

God, everyone saw it but you.

But how could you? When every cheerleader wanted him, and he just couldn’t help being a natural flirt, and every time you saw it, it broke your heart even more.

So when you were moving schools, part of you was relieved.

You didn’t tell him though. Why would you? To make a promise you knew neither of you would keep?

It wasn’t until after high school graduation that you found out he did, in fact, like you. That he was devastated that you left, that he never got to give you his jersey, or take you to prom.

And of course, this ruined you, because oh, how badly did you want all that? You wanted that teen romance, but now, at 20, you found yourself thinking more about your priorities rather than some silly, stupid crush (even though you were crashing out every night thinking about him).

Satoru, who you happened to run into at the local store, made you panic and run to your car, hiding. You couldn’t have left any faster.

Satoru, whose name popped up on your lock screen.

satorugojo has requested to follow

a/n: this was ib one of my friends irl experience. HERES PT2 PT3 P.S. VOTE FOR THE FINAL PART

[dclovesdanny]

Dead on Main

4/5

Jason had always loved the drawings littering his arms. As soon as he knew how to write and had markers, he would write notes to his soulmate. He knew Danny like the back of his hand. Danny was the first person he said good morning too and the last person he said good night too.

He barely managed to scribble out a message to Danny before he died, apologizing.(He prayed Danny forgave him for leaving him alone.)

After Jason was resurrected, he didn’t know what to say to Danny. Danny still wrote on his arms, and Jason would be lying he said he didn’t look over those notes and feel tempted to write back. But Danny deserved better than what Jason could give him.

(the only person Jason ever showed the notes to was Damian. He would let the little Demon trace over them silently as he explained. He knew the league’s policy on soulmates was not kind. He hoped Talia would be kinder to the kid)

Then the writing started getting sloppier. The notes became those of a vigilante, the one thing he had hoped his soulmate wouldn’t have to be. Jason wasn’t supposed to leave the League. Jason should be working towards his revenge on The Joker, his plans for Gotham.

But then Danny wrote about Vlad. About the creepy guy that made his insides crawl and Jason couldn’t keep himself from clenching his teeth.(all of the trainees got used to Jason having some days where he was worse than others. Sometimes, the pit would rage inside of him at the thought of Lasters, but oddly enough messages from Danny seemed to ground him and make it harder for the Pit to control him)(maybe that’s why the league didn’t approve of soulmates.)

It was when the writings stopped that Jason really got worried and started preparing to leave. Talya caught him quickly, but was surprisingly willing to let him go. Her only request was that He took Damien with him. (Sometimes, he noticed how Talia wore the same sleeves that he did. He wondered sometimes if Talia only pretended not to have a soulmate.)

The last message that he got from Danny was the one that made him leave three weeks earlier than planned, with a demon child to his back, and guns ready to fire.

I never expected to be a teen dad. I’m kind of scared, but like hell I’m letting the fruit loop raise these kids.

I wish you were raising them with me.

[avayarising]

Batfam time travel fic idea: Dick is sent back in time to his younger body, around his early Nightwing era. But the younger body he’s sent back into at that particular moment happens to be concussed or sick or poisoned or something, so Dick (who wasn’t expecting the time travel in any case) is completely disoriented. Ten-year-old Stalker Tim sees him shivering/throwing up and goes to help out – and Dick just sees his little brother.

Tim has to deal with a confused, rambling Nightwing who is calling him by name and trusting him to help him and saying all sorts of concerning things.

(Maybe this is in New York, and Tim manages to call the rest of the New Teen Titans, who turn up and have to deal with this kid Nightwing has latched on to and won’t let go of, who apparently knows their identities. At least he seems as confused as they are about why this is happening.)

[sharksandjays]

Ever think about how when Tim was being attacked by Jason at Titans Tower, he saw his Robin?

[redsray]

I love those fics where the JL learns about Jason (or the entire batfam, wtv) and realise that the Red Hood, who ran Batman in circles for a good while and keeps him on his toes, took over the entire crime-ridden drug empire of Gotham in just a few months, ran (or is still running) the Iceberg lounge and is just objectively terrifying: is also a nineteen-year-old with this baby face. THIS is who multiple drug lords answered to and who protects Crime Alley.

[shakaprio]

girls just wanna blog, play dress to impress, and giggle over edits

[mmmairon]

2h practice featuring Shadowheart

[smutinlove]

random jason todd headcanons

•jason is so touch starved and he's scared to touch you himself. my pookie bear just wants to be hugged and loved <3

•he isn't clingy. but when he's drunk, that's a whole different story. like that man with grab you by your waist, hold your hand, and take you to pound town

•he'll randomly get drunk and text you, "I love you. I need you. 'wanna hold you so bad and touch you" and then twenty minutes later, dick will text you a picture of jason half-passed out on his bed, saying, "come get your man, bitch."

•before every mission or patrol, he'll kiss you and say some corny shit like, "I love you to the moon."

•i feel like he would definitely pop a hip randomly. and he looks hot.

•this man is THE leader of the sassy man apocalypse.

•he's so traumatized and avoids talking about it. like baby, we love you. us jason todd girlies are gonna go to war for him and he's all: no one loves me... I LOVE YOU

i would kill for jason todd

[zipstey]

[foldingfittedsheets]

A basic human skill that people usually lock down around the age of three or four is impulse control. To conceptualize an action and it’s consequences before taking it. Maybe considering how that action affects other people. We then refine it through most of our childhood.

When I was a teenager my hold on this ability became… tenuous. I became a volatile and dangerous creature.

It’s probably not unique to me, but I had a perfect storm in terms of mental upsets. I had just mastered enough basic social skills, so I finally had a strong group of friends when my dad suddenly needed to move for work. Ripped away from my support network, blooming with hormones, I was dragged to Arizona. I was always a child of forests and mist and suddenly everything was hot, dry, and extremely pointy and aggressive.

Additionally to being abruptly transplanted I found myself an object of affection in a way I’d never been before. Lonely and desperate to make friends the only people who wanted to spend time with me had romantic designs. I just wanted to figure out my shit but I had a baby lesbian flirting with increasing aggression in art, a soft boy making heart eyes at me in biology, a senior nerd asking if I wanted to play Halo at his house and could he hold my hand?

Reader, I snapped. I didn’t want this romantic attention but I also didn’t want to be alone. My brain coped the only way it knew how, by simply cutting out decision making. Any action was the right action to take.

It started with the boy in biology. I’d stolen his pencil out of mischief and to my overwhelming fury instead of trying to steal it back he just softened his eyes and chucked me gently under my chin, a gesture so overtly sweet and romantic that I saw red.

I stabbed him with his own pencil.

I honestly and truly have no memory of it. It happened as fast as a snake striking and I was instantly filled with terrified remorse. Unfortunately that manifested as psychotic giggling.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t- I don’t know why- I’m so sorry!” I said, while hysterically laughing. I ended up having lodged some graphite in his palm and had to tweeze it out with my nails while apologizing furiously. (It’s very important to note here that he forgave me and we’re still friends)

That was weird, I thought. Why didn’t I think before I stabbed someone?

The next event was equally catastrophic, and I had even less reason to do it. In gym with two girls I was tentatively befriending, we were warming up running laps. I started racing one of them. At breakneck speed we were sprinting around the gym.

This time, there was a blip of thought before I fucked up. I should get the other girl! I have no idea why or what the plan was but I turned on a swivel and body checked the other girl. We both fell down in immense pain. I think that’s the moment I broke my tailbone. Her knees were horribly bruised and she looked at me in bewildered pain. “Why did you do that?!”

I had no idea. I apologized and helped her up, both of us hobbling like newborn horses, bruised and hurting.

By this time there’d been enough social upheavals that I was reduced to spending time with some girls I had nothing in common with and low key disliked. Sat at a table listening to this girl talk about how she wanted to be a stripper when she grew up I thought, You’d better put the cap on before you throw it.

I then chucked my empty water bottle directly at her face. It bounced off her forehead with a bop! that would have made a sound mixer weep at its perfection.

All eyes turned to me is startlement. I stared back at her, stunned by my own action, just as confused as everyone else at the table as to why I’d done that. One of the girls to my right said, “Were you trying to hit that fly?”

“Yes!” I lied, “I’m sorry, I thought I could hit the fly!”

Everyone laughed at my antics and I joined in rather than admit I had just chucked something at her for no reason.

Things did start to improve after that. I solidified a friendship with the girl I’d raced (who I developed a massive crush on and ten years later would go on to date). My outbursts turned more whimsical rather than aggressive. Like accosting a girl leaving the cafeteria to look deeply into her eyes and say with great compassion, “It’s going to be alright.”

My new friend and I snuck into the van that delivered our cafeterias baked goods and lay giggling in the back. When I’d impulsively hopped in she’d joined me and made it a game.

After a year in Arizona I broke down crying to my mother, an act of great desperation, and we ended up moving back home. My impulse control returned to normal teenage levels and life resumed in a happier state of mind.

[mellosdrawings]

HEADCANON TIME (again)

I don't think we've ever been told Crewel's UM, so here's what I think. Something like Inumaki's Cursed Speech from JJK, that allows Crewel to give orders to people. Vocal component like Jamil without controlling the mind, controlling the body like Ruggie without needing to do the move himself.

And of course using said UM to thoroughly humiliate his Housewarden at the beginning of his second year so he could become Housewarden himself.

(The Crewel brainrot is so strong guys, I can't stop drawing him D:)

[fadeintosatoru]

pt2 of this

pt 3

Satoru, who was the most jealous guy when it came to you, could not bear the thought of you sitting next to other guys—guys who were making you laugh. Oh, he’s sick.

Satoru, who stares them down, sending daggers with his eyes. And why are you laughing? They’re not that funny. Definitely not funnier than him.

He hates how much he can’t sit next to you, can’t be the one making you laugh or teasing you, like, no one else is worthy of hearing your cute laugh.

Satoru, who got into a fight with some guy you were starting to get too close to for his liking. Mind you, the fight happened right in front of you, but you were too busy to even notice.

And when you found out it was Satoru and your crush, you couldn’t believe it. You asked Satoru what happened, and he said, “He didn’t want to let go of the ball.”

But that’s not what everyone else is saying…

Satoru, who loves when you get mad at him for getting into too many fights. It lowkey makes him want to get into more because he loves the attention you give him.

Satoru, who walked into the first day of class and immediately sat next to you. How could he not? There was no way in hell he’d let some nobody sit next to you.

Satoru, who, on a school trip to the beach, saw you walk down to the deck and followed you.

You two sat there for the rest of the night before heading back to the bus.

Satoru, who takes a mental picture, the way the sunlight kisses your face making his chest tighten painfully.

You were perfect. This moment was perfect. And god, did he want to kiss you, wanted to tell you everything he was scared to say.

Satoru, who could not keep his eyes off you the entire ride back. He just couldn’t. He couldn’t stop replaying the moment.

It was intimate. It was just you, him, and the ocean. The way your doe eyes stared at him, like he was the most innocent, precious thing.

And he was. To you, he was.

Satoru, who insisted you be the first one to sign his cast after he broke his arm. He even let you draw cute flowers, never letting anyone else write on it.

Satoru, who knew you didn’t particularly like speaking in public, so just to get you flustered, he’d purposefully pick you during popcorn reading.

Satoru, who always asked you for a pencil, knowing damn well he had like five of them in his backpack. He just loved it when you rolled your eyes, telling him, “Again?”

Satoru, whose eyes never leave you when you walk into the room. His whole demeanor changes as soon as you step foot in class, and his friends just watch and tease him later.

Satoru, who secretly loves when teachers sit him next to you because he’s heard that saying—that teachers know when students like each other. Not that you’d ever like him, he thought, but boy was he wrong.

Satoru, who sent you a DM after it took you two whole days to accept his request.

a/n: he has NOT in fact sent her a dm :( they need to reconnect asap. @lavnder311 @jkslaugh97 pt.2 is up :3

[jasontoddsthickbabe]

Baby daddy Jason todd 😍 I would do anything for this man

[alana-reid-2005]

jail, doctor, jail for looking sexy in a sweater vest and tie

[srslyblvck]

daddy issues, tony stark [ Part I ]

pairing: tony stark x daughter!reader

synopsis: tony might've been a great superhero but he wasn't a great father.

genre: angst

word count: 1.1k

author's note: whoops, looks like my daddy issues are showing lmao

Part II

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ TONY STARK HAD NEVER been the best father. In fact, most days, it felt like he wasn’t really a father at all. He was a superhero, a genius, a billionaire—but a father? That was something he struggled to figure out. Between saving the world and working on his endless projects, being there for his teenage daughter felt like an afterthought.

But you never blamed him, not really. You cared about him too much to hold a grudge.

Each morning, you would wake up, knowing your father was holed up in his workshop again. He barely came out, always lost in the world of tech and schematics. You'd quietly slip downstairs, make him a cup of coffee just the way he liked it, and head to his workshop.

The metal doors hissed open as you walked in. Tony was hunched over his desk, a dozen holographic blueprints floating in front of him. He didn’t even look up as you placed the coffee on the corner of his table.

"Thanks," he muttered, almost absentmindedly.

"Yeah," you whispered, barely audible. "You're welcome."

You stood there for a second, hoping maybe, just maybe, he'd say something more. Ask how you were doing, maybe even crack one of his sarcastic jokes. But he didn’t. He stayed glued to his work, fingers flying over the holograms.

With a small sigh, you left him to his world, retreating to your room upstairs. It wasn’t that Tony never tried. You knew he did. He just… didn’t know how.

There had been times where Tony made an effort. There was that one night a few months ago when he knocked on your door after midnight. You'd been up late studying for a history test. He walked in, awkwardly holding a pizza box, his eyes red from exhaustion.

"Thought you might be hungry," he said, trying for a smile but failing.

You accepted the pizza, your heart warming for a second. He sat down on your bed, but after a minute of silence, he pulled out his phone, diving into emails and plans for the next suit upgrade.

Eventually, he left without saying much more.

Every night, you'd find him passed out at his desk, surrounded by tech parts and half-finished inventions. Quietly, you'd drape a blanket over his shoulders, making sure he stayed warm in the freezing lab. He never woke up, never noticed, but you kept doing it because… well, someone had to take care of him, right?

The Avengers—Steve, Natasha, Clint, and Bruce—noticed the little things Tony didn’t.

They noticed the way your smile faded when you proudly showed Tony your report card. You’d worked so hard for that A in science, but when you handed him the paper, he barely looked at it.

"Good job, kid," he'd said, sounding robotic.

That was it. No smile, no proud hug. Just a flat, emotionless acknowledgment before he went back to his tech. You smiled weakly, stuffing the report card back into your backpack before retreating to your room.

"Hey," Natasha had said gently as she passed you in the hall. "You're doing great, you know that, right?"

You nodded, forcing another smile, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes.

It was the same when you’d asked Tony to come to your school performance. You’d practiced for weeks—every night after finishing homework, every spare moment spent perfecting your lines. You wanted him to be there, to see you, just once.

"Dad, can you come to my play?" you’d asked, heart racing.

"I’m busy, sweetheart. Maybe next time," he'd said, barely glancing up from his project.

You’d nodded, trying to hide your disappointment. There was always a ‘next time’ with Tony. But next time never came.

Steve had been in the living room when you returned home that night. He noticed the tight smile on your face, the way you quickly escaped to your room without saying much. He exchanged a look with Natasha, both of them understanding the weight of Tony’s absence in your life.

You never let them see how much it hurt. That wasn’t your style. Instead, you bottled everything up, shoving your feelings deep inside. Every time Tony brushed you off, every time he missed something important, you just swallowed it down. After all, he was a superhero, right? He was saving the world. There wasn’t time for school plays or report cards.

But sometimes, when it was just you in your room late at night, the weight of it all crashed down. The tears would come, and you’d lock your door, not wanting anyone to see. You’d cry silently, face buried in your pillow, wondering why you weren’t enough for him to care.

Why couldn’t he see you?

There were bad days, too. Days when Tony would snap. He’d yell at you for something small—spilling water on his desk, walking into the workshop without knocking, or accidentally interrupting a call. His voice would rise, frustration boiling over.

"Can’t you see I’m working, Y/N? I don’t have time for this!"

You’d flinch, your heart sinking as he continued to shout. Afterward, he wouldn’t speak to you for days. You’d tiptoe around the tower, avoiding him, the silence between you growing heavier.

You’d lock yourself in your room, feeling the anger and sadness bubbling up. But he never came to apologize, never checked on you. Not once.

Steve, Natasha, Clint, and Bruce saw the cracks. They noticed the way your shoulders slumped a little more each day, how your laughter grew quieter, and how you stopped asking Tony for attention. They didn’t pry—they knew better than to push—but they were there when you needed them.

"Want to train with me?" Natasha would ask, offering a quiet distraction from the heaviness.

Clint would crack jokes, trying to pull a genuine laugh from you.

Bruce would help you with homework, explaining things patiently when you couldn’t focus.

And Steve? Steve would just sit with you sometimes, not saying much, but offering his silent, unwavering support.

They cared. They saw you.

One night, Tony was working late, as always. You slipped into his workshop, a mug of coffee in hand. But this time, instead of leaving it on the table, you stood there, watching him. He was muttering to himself, typing furiously on his holographic keyboard.

You cleared your throat. "Dad?"

He paused, finally looking up at you. There was a tiredness in his eyes that you hadn’t noticed before. For a moment, he really looked at you—really saw you standing there, holding that cup of coffee like you had a hundred times before.

He blinked, as if suddenly realizing how much time had passed, how distant he had become.

"You need something?" he asked, his voice softer than usual.

You hesitated, staring down at the coffee in your hands. "No, I just… I just wanted to say goodnight."

Tony swallowed, his throat tightening as he processed your words. He nodded slowly, his gaze dropping to the coffee mug you held out.

"Goodnight, kid," he murmured, and for the first time in a long time, there was something real in his tone—something almost like regret.

You placed the coffee on his desk and turned to leave, your heart heavy. Maybe one day he’d realize just how much you’d done for him. Maybe one day, he’d see you the way you’d always seen him.

But until then, you’d keep trying. Because that’s what daughters do for their fathers, even when they don’t deserve it.