#x-over

[sammayrin]

now, I know that cale henituse and bruce wayne have similarities. They both have an adoption problem, are cunning strategists, terrible at communicating, and are filthy rich. but I think on a fundamental level they would not get along. Bruce has (admittedly kind of necessary due to frequent mind control situations) contingency plans for friends and family. Cale would Not Vibe with that at all. He would rather die than do that shit.

plus bruce’s no-killing policy (again, valid reasons for this), and while bruce does various other brutal acts short of killing, I think this would cause some problems. cale might understand it on a moral level. But if they had to work together? They would be butting heads like nobody’s business. honestly, if they did have to team up to take down an enemy, I think there would be a confrontation a la “Ruthlessness” from EPIC the musical

[pinesong333]

Ahhhhhhh i love crossover(sincerely

want to draw more but i need to go rest…

[arrowsbane]

When you have a very specific niche fic concept in your brain, except in order to find a beta, you need somebody who:

Has seen Stargate Atlantis

Has seen the OG Roswell show from ‘99

Is just as unhinged as you because youre about to put canon in a blender and play with one of the most controversial villains

Thoughts? Questions? Concerns?

[frankencanon]

if 30k words of a 13-year-old denji bullying hero killer stain is something that interests you then consider checking out this fic

[dr-sciencemachine]

Future x-over fic that I may one day write:

"So I just have to thing 'this isn't gonna hurt' and it happens?" Asked Eddie, incredulous.

Law almost chuckled but maintained his neutral tone. "That's the gist of it"

"Have you ever heard of this V?"

They appeared from his shoulder, usual smile absent. "No, Eddie. But it will protect us, it will protect our spawns."

"Yeah, I'm all for it if it protects the kids."

"Again, I'm an adult," Groaned the doctor. "And Ace and Sabo too. Even Luffy is almost there."

"Law-spawn is not even in his one 100s."

"For the last time, I'm a human!"

Or: LASL is raised by Venom and Brook

[inkskinned]

i love you vaccines i love you research i love you reading the book instead of having chatgpt summarize it i love you critically thinking rather than reacting to a headline i love you investigating the source material i love you science i love you math even though you are personally my enemy (math/yn slowburn) i love you writing even though you try to stab me a lot i love you Experts in Your Field i love you Using The Brain

[sabellart]

he gets cold and SOMEBODY has to do something about it, might as well be jayce

[galaxyspeaking]

Come to me, don’t be scared

[snail-day]

Okay. Breathe, Satoru. You can do this. It's just a sleepover. Just your girlfriend. Just the person you're absolutely, irrevocably obsessed with. Who you're trying really, really hard not to scare off.

Standing in your apartment, hands shoved deep in his pockets to keep from touching everything. You’re flitting around, casual, relaxed, while he’s trying to memorize the shape of your furniture, the smell of your space, the way you hum when you walk into the kitchen.

Satoru's baby-blues locking onto the bathroom door. “I’ll, uh... shower first, if that’s okay?” like it’s the most neutral, chill request ever. It’s not. He’s sweating. His ears are pink. You nod like it’s no big deal - of course it’s no big deal - but to him? It’s a very big deal.

He gently closes the bathroom door behind him. Worries if he makes too much of a sound, he will be banned from your fine establishment. Your things are everywhere. Shampoo bottles, conditioner, your razor, a little candle half-burned on the sink, your loofah hanging from the shower knob, the loofah. He stares at it for too long.

Are we at the loofah-sharing stage? Satoru wonders, frozen in place. It’s pink. Fluffy. It looks soft, and it’s yours, and he’s fighting every stupid urge in his body. “Don’t be weird,” muttering aloud, as if he can command himself into normalcy. Still, his fingers twitch. He holds it. Briefly. Gently. Just for a second. Just to say he did.

Then comes the body wash. He squirts out the tiniest amount and rubs it between his hands like it’s precious perfume. The scent hits him and he nearly slides down the wall. You smell like this. You smell like this all the time. How is he supposed to survive? Because now he smells like you.

Pressing his face into the steam and pretends it’s your neck. He’s sick. Maybe a little pathetic. He knows it. But he’s also just so in love. What can a guy do?

When he steps out, face flushed and hair damp, he feels like a teenage boy at his crush’s house for the first time - which, in his mind, he kinda is. You’re waiting for him in pajamas, makeup wiped off, looking soft and sleepy and so perfectly you. He thinks he might pass out.

And then… brushing teeth together. Should be simple. Should be normal. But nothing is normal around you. He’s beside you at the sink, trying to play it cool while your shoulder brushes his. You hum to yourself while brushing, glancing at him through the mirror, and he nearly foams at the mouth. Or maybe that’s the toothpaste. He’s not sure.

Then he sees it.

A little blob of foam at the corner of your lips.

Something happens to him. Something dark and unspeakable. He wants to kiss it away. He wants to lick it off your mouth like a psychopath. He stares. Blinks. Shakes his head like a wet dog. Absolutely not. No. Stop it.

What’s wrong with you, scolding himself. She’s just brushing her teeth. Like a person. A very pretty, perfect person.

He spits. Rinses. Avoids eye contact. Looks at the drain. Looks at your spit down the drain. Another weird thought. One that must be suppressed.

And then it’s time. Bedtime. Final boss.

Your bed is small. Cozy. Absolutely infested with plushies. He pretends to be annoyed but he secretly loves them. Even if they are plotting to kick him off the edge of the mattress. He climbs in carefully, unsure which plush is your favorite. Unsure what you'd do if he accidentally knocked one little guy off the floor. The blanket smells like your laundry. Like home. Like the future he wants with you.

You’re already under the covers, blinking at him sleepily, smile soft and content. Wearing his shirt and not much else. The fabric rides up your thighs and he has to look away before his brain fully melts. He deserves a prize for not making a move. Deciding to lay on his back, stiff, hands folded like he’s in a coffin. He doesn’t touch you. Not even a pinky. Be good, chanting to himself. Be good. You like her. You love her. You’re not a perv, you’re not a perv.

You shift closer.

A leg brushes his. A sigh escapes your lips. Your hand settles gently on his stomach like it belongs there.

He almost cries, something between a half whimper and a wheeze leaves his throat.

Slowly, carefully, he slides his arm around your waist. You don’t flinch. Don’t pull away. You lean into him.

He swears he hears wedding bells.

You fall asleep just like that, face nestled against his shoulder, breath even and slow. And he lies there, heart racing, brain fried, blinking up at the ceiling, Satoru would be getting no sleep tonight.

His thoughts are a mess: She’s so pretty. Is she really mine? What if I kissed her forehead? No, too soon. Maybe not. God, her skin is soft. I should move in. Tomorrow. Today. Right now. No, bad. Calm down. Be cool. Be a good boyfriend. Don’t get a boner. You’re cuddling. It’s fine. Just breathe. You’re okay. This is okay. Everything is okay.

He wants to. Touch you, that is. Just your waist. Just a hand on your back. Just to pull you closer and feel your heartbeat against his chest. But he doesn’t. He stays perfectly still. He doesn’t want to push anything. You haven’t done that yet, and he’d rather die than make you uncomfortable.

Except nothing’s okay. Because he’s so in love it physically hurts. Because you’re sleeping peacefully and trusting him with this little moment, and all he wants is to stay like this forever.

How are you sleeping so peacefully while he’s over here thinking about nothing but how perfect yoh are?

[cuntphoric]

it’s stupid late. like 2:43am late. the kitchen’s dark except for the fridge light and the glow from your situationship phone screen, playing a random song that you had suggested him to listen to. you’re perched on the counter, legs swinging, wearing his hoodie and nothing else, and he’s standing between your knees with a slice of leftover birthday cake balanced on a plate in one hand and a fork in the other.

"open up, baby," gojo says, waving the fork near your face as if he was the one feeding a toddler. "here comes the airplane—"

you swat at him half heartedly but open your mouth anyway, letting him feed you. "you’re so dramatic," you mumble through the cake.

"i’m romantic," he corrects, licking the frosting off his thumb. "there’s a difference."

gojo's hair’s a mess, white strands fluffed up and sticking everywhere from sleep, but he still looks ridiculously sweet. like pretty boy sweet. like maybe i’d let you ruin my life sweet. and he’s shirtless, just soft skin, warm from sleep, and low sweatpants that are hanging on for dear life.

he’s all sleepy grins and sleepy eyes and god, he’s not even trying :(

"you’re staring," he teases.

"i’m thinking," you say, deadpan.

"that's scary," he hums. "wanna kiss to stop it?"

you don’t answer. just tilt your chin up, expectant, and he leans in slowly, until he’s kissing you with cake sweet lips and smiling into it.

he pulls back just a little, presses his forehead to yours, and breathes you in. "you," he says softly, "are the best thing that’s ever happened to my insomnia."

you roll your eyes, smiling softly. "you’re so corny."

"and yet," he steals another kiss, pecking quickly, "you still wanna make out with me on a counter at 2am."

[isagaiia]

jayce is so greedy smh

[dawndauce]

never separate them :-(

[koifee]

Falin panics when her gf is sad

[rosenkranz-isnt-dead]

and to be honest it's Saturday

[wishing-well-art]

How I long to see her face now

Her starry, moonlit gaze now

I know she's never late, still anxiously I wait

Patient is the night

Happy Tenth Anniversary to my favorite animated show of all time!

Here's another 3 MILLION alternate versions because i'm that indecisive