#this one was super fast so it’s not great

[wonderjanga]

Imagine Billy and Mary and Freddy say from the start that they're siblings.

And the three of them somehow are all homeless street kids. Chaotic little gremlins.

And one day Black Adam sees them transform and is like 'WHAT THE ACTUAL-'.

And you choose what happens next-

Teth didn’t even know how this happened. Or, well, he does, but he’s still having a hard time comprehending it. See, he was minding his business in an appropriate(suspicious) disguise while scouting Fawcett for the Champion. As for why he was looking for the champion, it was because the man was missing. The champion having disappeared was suspicious, considering the man washed over his city like a hawk. Anyways, he was walking around when all of a sudden he just spots this child with the bluest eyes he’s ever seen with a little girl who also has the bluest eyes he’s ever seen. The little boy unfortunately noticed him.

Billy: “Can I help you, mister?”

Ah. Adam was staring. Though, that was mostly because the young boy looked strikingly like Aman. Anyways, Adam didn’t even know how it happened, but one moment he was talking to the kid, the next he was giving him a bunch on Kahndaqi currency as if that’ll be useful to the boy. The kid still took it though.

Billy: *bright ahh smile* “Thanks, mister!”

Black Adam: “Yes…” *wondering if the kid used mind control for a moment* “I am now off to go torment Captain Marvel. Good day, stupid children.” *flies off*

Mary, Freddy, and Billy: *offended* “Hey!” *watch him go*

Billy: *still watching him fly off* “…Adam really sucks at disguising himself.”

Freddy: “No duh, he literally said he was gonna go torment you.”

Mary: *picks up one of the coins Adam gave them* “Do you guys think we could trade this with a fairy for money? They like shiny stuffs.”

Billy: “We probably could.”

Anyways, fast forward, three months and Teth, whenever he was in Fawcett, which was unfortunately becoming more and more frequent, kept feeding and giving money to these three little urchins that are somewhat (it’s actually more than somewhat, but he would never admit it) tolerable.

Then, the fateful day came. The children were standing at their usual spot, and Adam was flying over. Then, the blasted little old bald fool with the glasses, psoriasis or Savana or whatever his name was started attacking. The children ran into an alleyway, and because of the fact Adam could care less about Savannah he flew after them because the alleyway looked shady. He was then greeted with the three of them… transforming… into his worst enemies. Specifically, the one who looked like Aman, Billy, transformed into the Champion.

After the fight with Sivana…

Black Adam: “You…”

Marvel: *startles* “Black Adam! What’re you doing here?” *suspicious*

Black Adam: *ignores him and is kind of angry monologging* “I’ve… I’ve been giving you three money and food for months… You’ve been making a fool of me!”

Marvel, Junior, and Mary: *share looks with each other cause ‘uh oh, he knows*

Marvel: “Uh… well, no. We all actually eat all that and make good financial choices. All the money I get from my job goes to rent, and on top of that we all work odd jobs for food and utility money. You’ve been a great help.” *super duper sincere*

Junior and Mary: “You’ve helped us a lot, mister!”

Black Adam: “You’ve still been making a fool of me! Also, why do you three have the power of the Living Lightning?! You’re children!”

Junior: “So?”

Black Adam: “So, none of you should have anything to do with the Rock of Eternity or being the World’s Mightiest Mortal!”

Mary: “That’s more the Wizard’s fault, not ours. Or wait no, that’s Billy fault cause he’s the one who gave us our powers.”

*silence*

Black Adam: “…I can’t believe I’ve been fighting children the entire time.”

Junior: “I know, right? And you still lose.”

Black Adam: *wants to get angry at that but just can’t muster it* “I…” *in his mind says ‘f this’, turns around and flies off*

Adam basically stewed in anger while in Kahndaq before he came back after like a week and started feeding and giving money to the kids again. He now just ignores the fact that he knows Billy is Cap and just chooses to believe that they’re two different people and still fights him.

[kaakelymaakely]

the winner takes it all

Klance fanfic

CHAPTER 1/2

Lance has always known he was destined for greatness. Broadway, Hollywood—maybe even both at the same time. But for now, he's ensemble in his college’s production of Beauty and the Beast. Not ideal, but hey, all the greats start somewhere.

Unfortunately, "somewhere" happens to be one forgettable scene, zero lines, and a tragic lack of stage time. But when a new opportunity presents itself—one that involves working very closely with Keith, the ever-annoying, ever-broody stage manager—Lance is faced with a choice.

College Theatre! AU

The boys’ dorm room was a picture-perfect description of chaos– textbooks cracked open but long forgotten, laundry threatening to pile over from the desk chair, and a half-empty bag of chips lounging on Lance’s stomach. The single window was unlatched, letting in the gross, stale smells of campus life– more specifically, the strong tang of weed from two floors down. Their cheap LED strip bathed the walls in a flickering red glow. 

Lance was sprawled across Hunk’s bed like a sickly Victorian woman, one arm flung dramatically over his forehead, the other digging into the bag of Lays. Pidge sat criss-crossed on the floor, back against the mini fridge, scrolling on their tablet as usual. Hunk– the one who should’ve had an actual claim to his bed because Lance’s was right there— was too kind to kick Lance off, instead opting to nudge him periodically in protest. 

After a long week of auditions, and a seemingly longer day of callbacks, the cast list for VLD University’s musical had just been posted. Or, more accurately, emailed. The trio had been arguing over the logistics of a heist into Professor Coran’s office– he’d totally notice a missing computer!-- when the message had been delivered. As the only one in the room who was participating in the college’s production, had refused to read the email himself. Instead, when he heard the telltale ping of his phone, he scrambled to toss it towards Hunk.

Ever the sweetest friend, Hunk graciously caught it, easily unlocking Lance’s phone and opening the message. He skimmed through the list, searching for Lance’s name. Lance watched as he scrolled, and scrolled… and scrolled… and… scrolled… until finally–

“I’m just saying,” Lance begins, talking through a mouthful of chips, crumbs flying as he gestures wildly with his free hand. He swallows– a little too quickly, coughing once before soldiering on. “Don’t be surprised when I get my first Broadway contract from Mr. Broadway himself.” 

“Lance… listen, I’m super duper proud of you— we both are!” Hunk pats Lance’s knee for emphasis.

Pidge gives a solemn nod, barely glancing up from their tablet.

“But?” Lance prompts, narrowing his eyes.

Hunk winces. “...But… you’re only Townsperson Number 4.”

Pidge laughs. “Not even Townsperson Number 1!”

Lance waves his hand dismissively. “Irrelevant. All the best people start off in the ensemble! It’s an important learning curve.” He flings a chip in Pidge’s direction, but they easily dodge it.

“Maybe,” Pidge shrugs, “but you’re not even really in the ensemble, you’re in one song. And then… nothing else.”

They reach for the bag of chips. Lance, lightning-fast, smacks their hand away with a scandalized gasp. “Thank you, Pidge. Really helping me live my dreams here.” He cradles the bag protectively. “Who even got The Beast?”

Hunk squints at his phone, scrolling through the email. “...Keith…”

“WHAT!?” Lance sits up so fast the bag of chips tumbles off his chest, spilling onto the already-cluttered floor.

Hunk bursts into laughter. “Just kidding, he’s the stage manager.”

Lance glares at him before dramatically flopping back down. “Typical.” He doesn’t bother picking up the chips.

Pidge suddenly straightens, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Oooooo! Idea!”

Hunk and Lance turn to them in sync, expectant.

Pidge grins, wiggling their eyebrows. “Since you’re only in one number, maybe you could help out backstage with Keith! Be a stagehand, get all up close and personal.” They smirk before throwing on an absolutely horrendous Bridgerton-esque accent, fanning themself for effect. “‘Oh, Keith! I can’t lift this set piece all by myself! I need your big strong biceps to help me!’” 

Hunk snorts, covering his mouth to muffle his laughter.

Lance lets out an offended squawk, swinging a pillow at Pidge, who dodges just in time. “Hush, you!” His scowl barely lasts a second before slipping into a grin. “...Though that’s not a horrible idea…”

Hunk smacks him with a pillow. 

–

The Director’s office was always intimidating. Or maybe it’s because Lance was really only invited in when he was causing a ruckus. 

 It was tucked away in the back corner of the auditorium, past the racks of abandoned costumes and towering set pieces. The door itself was old, its once-polished surface now scratched and dented from years of stressed-out techies knocking too hard or actors slamming it in frustration. A laminated sign reading Director’s Office was taped just slightly crooked above the handle—probably slapped on last-minute after too many people barged in unannounced.

Lance barely bothers to knock before pushing it open with a dramatic flourish. “Hey, Allura!”

Inside, Allura’s office was no less intimidating. The cramped space was lined with tall bookshelves, each crammed with stacks of play scripts, mismatched binders, and hastily scribbled notes shoved between them. The air smelled like old paper and the faint lingering scent of coffee, despite the fact that Allura had officially quit caffeine three times this semester.

Allura, seated behind her cluttered desk, barely glances up from the paperwork in front of her. “Lance.”

With a grin, Lance steps inside and slams the door shut behind him—loudly. Allura jolts in her seat, her pen skidding across the page.

Lance snickers. “That’s Townsperson Number 4 to you, Miss Director.”

The corner of Allura’s mouth twitches upwards, but she quickly schools her expression back into neutrality.

Lance leans against the desk, crossing his arms. “Anyway,” he starts, stretching out the word. “I need to ask a favor.”

Her expression fades. A slow, exhausted sigh escapes her lips as she folds her hands on the desk, tilting her head in mild suspicion. “What do you need?”

“I was wondering, since I’m really only in one song—”

“No, Lance.” Allura cuts him off before he can finish, her voice firm. “I’m not giving Townsperson 4 any more lines. If I change the script, I’ll have a Disney lawsuit on my hands.”

“Actually, not what I was going to ask, but definitely noted. I was actually wondering if I’d be able to help out backstage.”

Allura raises an eyebrow. “You… Lance McClain… want to help out backstage?”

Lance nods quickly. “Yes. That is exactly what I just said.”

She leans back in her chair, arms crossed now, considering him with a knowing look. “What’s the catch?”

Lance sputters. “What!? There’s no catch!”

Before Allura can respond, the door creaks open, and Keith walks in, clipboard in hand. He’s already speaking before he fully looks up. “Hey, Allura, I needed to—” He stops short when he sees Lance. “Oh. Sorry. I’ll come back.”

“This’ll only take a minute, Keith,” Allura says smoothly. “Please wait outside.”

Keith hesitates, then nods. He turns to leave, but Lance lifts a hand, giving him a slow, totally casual wave.

“Heyyy.”

Keith blinks at him, unimpressed. He presses his lips together in a tight line, nods stiffly, and ducks back out, letting the door click softly shut behind him.

Lance is still watching the door when he hears it—Allura’s soft, knowing hum of realization.

“Ah.”

He turns back.

She’s smiling now, but it’s different this time—smaller, sly, dripping with amusement.

“There’s the catch.”

–

“You, Lance McClain, want to help out backstage?”

Lance groaned, his shoulders slumping forward dramatically. “That’s exactly what Allura said too.”

Shiro shrugged, arms crossed as he leaned against the nearby workbench. The tech room smelled faintly of sawdust and old paint, the shelves behind him cluttered with tangled extension cords, and a chaotic assortment of tools that only he seemed to know how to use. “Sorry, Lance—”

“Townsperson 4.”

“—Townsperson 4,” Shiro corrected with an amused smirk. “It’s just… hard to believe. You’ve always been more interested in being in the spotlight, not actually… you know. Being it.”

Lance clasped his hands together, lacing his fingers with an exaggerated plea. “Shiro, my heart, my life, my incredible and amazingly talented tech director—please, please, you’ve got to let me help out. I’m going to die of boredom if I don’t have something to do. Do y’all seriously expect me to just sit backstage quietly during the show?”

Shiro exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “That’s… fair.” He seemed to consider it for a moment before nodding. “Alright, tell you what. We’ll start you off helping with building the set before we even think about letting you near lights or sound.”

Lance perked up instantly, hands dropping to his sides. “That’s a very safe choice.”

“Then it’s settled. Keith will help you figure out where to start.”

“Wait—I’m doing what?”

Lance nearly jumped out of his skin. He whirled around to find Keith standing behind him, arms crossed, brows furrowed in immediate suspicion. How long had he been standing there?

Shiro grinned, completely unfazed. He reached over and ruffled Keith’s hair, earning a sharp glare. “Townsperson 4 here wants to help out with the set! And, as stage manager, I’m trusting you to help him learn how.”

Keith swatted Shiro’s hand away with a scowl before shifting that glare to Lance. “Lance McClain wants to help out backstage?”

Lance threw up his hands. “Seriously?! Why is everyone so surprised?”

Keith shot a look at Shiro. It wasn’t just a glance—it was a whole silent conversation, one that Lance definitely wasn’t privy to. He frowned as Keith’s expression twisted into something frustrated, his lips pressing into a thin line before—

Keith flushed.

It was quick, barely there, just a dusting of pink along the tips of his ears, but Lance saw it. And before he could even process it, Keith snapped his attention back to him, scowling even harder.

“Fine.” The word was practically spat out.

Wow. What a way to make a guy feel welcome.

Before Lance could comment, Keith grabbed his wrist and yanked him forward, practically dragging him out of the room.

Lance barely had time to shoot a helpless look back at Shiro—who, the traitor, just winked at him in silent encouragement.

Keith led him to the workshop, a chaotic but organized mess. Long wooden tables lined the room, covered in half-painted set pieces, rolls of masking tape, and scattered paint brushes soaking in murky water. Over in one corner, a group of students were painting a large sign, their laughter mixing with the occasional curse whenever someone smudged their work. A few others were hunched over a prop table, adjusting a broken chair leg.

Lance barely had time to take it all in before turning back to Keith—only to find him holding a sharp, jagged saw.

Lance’s eyes bulged out of his head. Oh hell no.

Keith barely looked up. “Do you know how to use a handsaw?”

Lance took a step back, eyes flicking between Keith and the saw like he’d just been handed a live grenade. “I’m not trusted around weapons.” He shook his head solemnly.

Keith sighed, lowering the saw. “Okay… um, can you use a staple gun?”

Lance raised a brow. “Also a weapon.”

Keith pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering something under his breath. “Fine. How about some wood glue?”

Lance’s expression instantly brightened. He shot Keith a wink. “Now that, I can do.”

Keith huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. “Okay, basically, you’re going to glue these pieces together first, and then we staple them.”

Lance frowned. “Why not just staple them without gluing them?”

Keith leveled him with a deadpan stare. “Trust the process, Townsperson 4.”

Lance groaned, dropping his head back. “It’s humiliating when you call me that.”

Keith smirked. “Maybe try and get a better part next time, then.”

Lance scoffed. “Hardy-har-har. Keith’s got jokes over here.”

Keith’s smirk widened. “I’m full of surprises.”

“More like full of shit.” Lance crossed his arms, eyebrows raised. “Now teach me how to glue these together.”

–

Keith strides over, carrying two thick planks of wood under one arm like they weigh nothing. He drops them onto the worktable with a dull thud before crossing his arms over his chest.

“All you have to do is glue these two ends together,” he says, nodding toward the planks. “Easy peasy. Even someone as dull and oblivious as you can do it.”

Lance, who had been examining the wood with mild curiosity, snaps his head up so fast he nearly gives himself whiplash.

“Dull and oblivious?!” His voice cracks with outrage, loud enough that several people stop what they’re doing to stare. Some of them exchange amused glances, waiting to see what will happen next. If anything, Lance thrives under the attention. He straightens his back and dramatically places a hand over his chest. “Name one thing I’ve been oblivious about!”

Keith meets his eyes, expression unreadable. His lips part slightly, and for a split second, Lance thinks he might actually answer. But then Keith exhales sharply, shakes his head, and mutters, “Just glue.”

Lance squints at him in suspicion but lets it slide, instead picking up the glue bottle. He presses the tip against the wood and squeezes. Nothing happens. He squeezes harder. Still nothing.

“This isn’t working.”

Keith lets out a long-suffering sigh, stepping in close—so close that their shoulders brush. The warmth of him seeps through the thin fabric of their shirts, and before Lance can react, Keith’s hand is wrapping around his. His grip is firm but not rough, guiding Lance’s fingers into applying more pressure to the bottle. A thick line of glue finally squeezes out onto the plank.

“There,” Keith murmurs. “You just needed to apply more pressure.”

Lance doesn’t respond. He can’t respond. His brain has short-circuited.

Because Keith is still there, pressed up against him, voice low and steady in a way that makes something inside Lance buzz. He keeps his eyes firmly trained on the glue, as if it’s the most fascinating thing in the world. His throat feels tight, and when he finally tries to speak, it comes out as a choked, strangled noise.

Keith turns to look at him, an amused glint in his eye. “Cat got your tongue?”

“As if,” Lance forces out, his voice an octave too high. He clears his throat and tries again. “I just… am really focused on gluing this wood.”

Keith smirks. It’s the kind of smirk that screams I know something you don’t want me to know. He presses his side harder against Lance’s, leaning in ever so slightly. If Lance turned his head right now, they’d be right there, noses almost brushing, lips—

Lance makes a small, wounded sound in the back of his throat.

Keith grins. “I see.”

“I’d sure hope so—I bet it’d be real hard to stage manage if you couldn’t,” Lance blurts, desperate to regain some control of the situation.

Keith hums, still far too smug for Lance’s liking. “You can dish it out, but you can’t take it.”

“...What?”

Keith tilts his head slightly, like he’s about to say something more, like he’s enjoying watching Lance squirm—

But before he can, a voice cuts through the air.

“Keith!”

A freshman jogs into the workshop, out of breath, hands braced on her knees. “Griffin just spilled paint all over the stage-right flat!”

Keith curses under his breath and immediately pulls away, already turning toward the stairs. And Lance—Lance does not miss the warmth, and he absolutely does not watch Keith’s ass as he marches off.

[cupcakeslushie]

Febuwhump day 16: Came back wrong

Future EW Donnie getting trapped by the Technodrome.

[splankie]

is blowing up a volcano after ur first kiss couple goals

[toxictrannyfreak]

I strongly feel that in Hawk’s evil bitch s3 era he gets super into American Idiot. Stewing in his room punching the wall like no one understands me… I’m so alternative while listening to one of the biggest hit albums of the 21st century. When Demetri tells him it got a musical adaptation he gets so mad he punches Kyler

[longagoitwastuesday]

ngl it sort of pisses me off the way adults regard Gojo in Jujutsu Kaisen at times. Which could be a very interesting and poignant point in a good way if well written, but as it is it becomes mainly just frustrating and sad in a negative way.

Nanami saying Gojo never cared about anything or anyone other than himself crashes interestingly with Kusakabe saying the whole situation was just all his fault because he refused to kill Itadori. The students are very aware of those aspects of Gojo's personality, but overall they seem to regard him with way more kindness and fondness even when at their rudest, not truly coinciding with either Nanami's or Kusakabe's views.

[bmpmp3]

post ankle-twisting clarity

[ruvviks]

coming up with zombie apocalypse stories is always fun because you can just say whatever and people will just have to take your word for it

[giantkillerjack]

It's difficult to describe growing up my entire life thinking my copy of All Dogs Go to Heaven 2 was in fact simply All Dogs Go To Heaven.

The last thing I remember from this property was watching An All Dogs Christmas Carol.

I have located the first movie, which I have never seen.

THE TONE SHIFT. IS. RATHER JARRING, FOLKS.

Imagine if you always thought that The Secret of Nimh 2 was the actual movie The Secret of Nimh... and then one day you saw the original.

[fisheito]

OMG. that means... Cloaca Crew........

WAIT.

✨C l o a c a C r e w✨

[front-facing-pokemon]

[sarroora]

OUUUUGH I MEANT TO SAY THINGS TO YOU EARLIER I FORGOR

Ok but that researching thing is SO REAL like i swear I'm not plotting to poison cats 😭

Also I'll chuck some headcanons at you because it's been a minute since I've done so

T.C. sleeps like he's dead and this varies only between In-The-Coffin and Just-Been-Murdered

Benny's jacket is probably handmade from his Ma from when he was younger and he just never outgrew it because he's so smol

If you were to brush Chooch you could make a whole nother Chooch out of all the fur you get, and Chooch would still be just as fluffy as he was before. (Infinite fur glitch?)

Spook ekeke's in his sleep. You can just hear him chattering in some corner of the alley or when he's napping on his beanbag. The gang tells him this all the time and he never believes them.

Fancy's tubby figure allows him to perfectly imitate loaves of bread on accident. At one point he was mistaken for a nice round loaf of Pumpernickel when he was napping in front of a bakery. Scared the hell out of a little old lady and himself when she tried to pick him up.

Most of Brain's habits are very catlike as he was the latest out of all of them to be integrated into a humanized society so he still makes short sprints on all fours before walking on twos and will always flee on all fours if he's scared. He also does that chicken legg thing to clean his legs SHAMELESSLY because nobody explained to him why that might be considered inappropriate to humans.

SEPARATION THINGY IGNORE THIS 💃🧚💃

Bonus Brain HC that also doubles as a teaser for my backstory fic of him; sometimes he just says the name of an emotion he's feeling because the lil ol library lady who taught him how to speak told him to 'say his emotions' to help process them and he took that literally. He slowly weaned off that habit when he got older but old habits die hard so now you'll very rarely hear him whispering 'happy!' to himself or saying 'confused?' to somebody. However he never stopped yelping 'afraid!' when frightened and running away.

So yeah there we go *breakdances*

[garlique]

bought a fucking car yesterday lads

[wolfkitty42]

CHAT GO WATCH THIS RN IT'S SO GOOD

(there are eng subtitles too...)

[hauntingblue]

I loved this movie about nami and her ex situationship reconciling and also anti capitalism

[stuck-in-the-ghost-zone]

I FUCKING HATE MEDICAL FACILITIES!!!!!!!!!!