#((SIBLING SHIT YES))

[mary-james-world-of-shames]

Everyone know oavement on TikTok? Yeah. Love them. Have this comic I made late at night half trying to be sweet and the other half trying to make my sibling laugh.

[kozmicmizuu]

silly sanegiyuu/giyuusane thing because the recent episode has fueled this.

also yes this is like kimetsu gakuen/modern au thingy for my sanity

- - - -

sanemi: genya, i’m going on a date, stay home and don’t do anything stupid.

genya: mom said i have to go with you!!

sanemi: what- no- YOURE NOT COMING TO MY FUCKING DATE—

*cut to them being at a restaurant with genya sitting between giyuu and sanemi.*

sanemi: ….

giyuu: what are you ordering, genya?

genya: oh- i’m ordering a burger :)

sanemi: i fucking hate my life..

- - - -

sanemi can’t have shit when he has a big family, this is probably not the first time he’s had to take his siblings to his date nights

[aflamboyanceofflamingos]

Damian and Tim do get along, but only when no one else is around so they can keep up the act

Like they’ll be chilling in the kitchen, each on their phone as they make spicy ramen as a midnight snack, but the second Dick walks in Damian’s fork is at Tim’s throat and Tim’s about to recreate Todoroki’s scar with the pot of boiling water

[your-royal-momoness]

Sokka: i heard you like bad boys

Zuko:

Sokka: tell him, Katara

Katara, not looking up from the scroll she's reading: he's the worst

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 308

Honestly, Damian is so disappointed in his father right now. And his so-called siblings. The friends allies he had made over the years and he had been swapping multiple times, and still they hadn’t realized. Danyal was as pale as a corpse, closer to Drake for Pit’s sake! Jordan had red eyes! Elena was a girl! Respawn had white hair! Surely someone noticed- thank fuck, hello Todd, no he’s not on patrol, listen, listen, he needs you to know that Father? Blind. An idiot! The others more so! Yes yes, they’ve been doing their single-person trick, but surely someone should have caught on yes? And they haven’t- Oh? What a wonderful idea Akhi, he shall inform the others of this idea, the Lazarus waters do make dna testing quite hard to do. 

[fantasykiri5]

A pair of birds of prey for days 15 and 16 of @hermitadaymay !!! Definitely not a day and a half (?) late

[gingermintpepper]

“Your hair’s gotten longer.” 

It’s conscious effort that keeps him from tucking the strands behind his ear, from taking the knife at his hip and shearing it all off. He keeps his stance focused, attentive, there’s little else he can do when he’s taken so completely after his mother when it comes to his hair. His father scratches his chin, the clouds of his beard snaking about his finger like mist parting for mountain-peaks. Ares’ chin is still child-smooth. He can feel the tickle of his over-long fringe against his soft jaw. There’s no heart in his chest, but still he feels as though a pulse is lodged in his throat. 

Father sighs, put-upon, disappointed, and Ares feels a slight tremor start in his calves from holding himself so tense. “Well done, Ares. Go clean yourself up and get some rest. Phoebus will want to look you over later.” 

He should be ecstatic to be praised by his father. Over-the-moon with joy. There should be pride emanating from every pore of his body, the blood on his skin should be sweeter than ambrosia. 

Instead, he bows, manages a soft ‘thank you, Father’ around the lump in his throat and immediately flees the room. A mild ‘make sure to trim your hair’ hits the back of his head like a spear through the skull. He almost wishes the great door had slammed on his foot so he would have reason to feel this horrid in his retreat.  

Phoebus Apollo is waiting for him in his infirmary. 

He’s gilded as ever, gold from crown to heel. Perfect like the statues they carve of him in his temples. He has a smile for Ares when he sees him, a crinkle at the edges of his pretty eyes from the weight of his joy. Ares is waiting to see the crack in the marble, to see if that’s the chip that’ll reveal his fangs.

“Brother,” he greets, and his voice is warm - like the arms that embrace him, his voice is so warm, “Welcome back. I’ve heard you’ve done well.”  

There’s a tremble in Ares’ fingers he hadn’t noticed before. Strain from carrying his sword for so many days, a throb from wounds he hadn’t noticed he’d accrued. “Heard? There’s already gossip?” 

Phoebus blinks, disarming, demure, coquettish, “But of course,” and Phoebus’ voice is honey to Ares’ gravel, the juxtaposition is grating on his skin, “It’s Olympus. The gossip began long before you set your course.” Those warm hands lead him further into the room, bodily sits him on the chaise, pulls his helmet from his head. It’s all one, unbroken motion, “It’s summer alas, so I could not watch your war myself, but I hear it was quite the decisive victory.” 

A thousand thoughts run on horseback through his mind then. 

Did Father overhear some terrible slander that pre-emptively disappointed him? Was Ares’ victory merely a rumour, a bet his father hadn’t bothered to take? Was the gossip more enticing than the stark truth? That Ares wasn’t some child toddling about in the shadow of his sister, that his sword and spear weren’t merely for show - he’d think such a thing would warrant celebration. Not -

“Oh my,” Phoebus is in front of him, pleasant warmth more sticky heat with how close he’s pressed himself into Ares’ space. From this angle, Ares can see the multi-coloured flecks of his eyes, like shards of golden glass suspended in ichor. From this angle, with his hand so gently holding his hair, were Ares to blink too hard, he’d swear Phoebus looked just like his mother. “Your hair’s grown long again.” 

He pushes Phoebus off with such force that he bangs into the wall. It’s Phoebus, it won’t make even the impression of a scratch on him, but Ares wishes it would. Wishes he’d hit his shoulder or crack his neck or hit his head just hard enough for all that perfect, gilded gold to bleed. 

“I’m only here for you to heal me,” the tremble in his hand extends to his shoulder now. He flexes and unflexes his palm. Gods what he would give to just have a sword - “Don’t waste time with the pleasant-work.” 

Phoebus huffs, adjusts the fit of his himation, “...Only because we’re meant to be celebrating your victory.” He crosses the room in two great strides, his hair a swirling tempest behind him as he gathers his poultices and wraps. “The only reason I’ll not throw you from the window is because we are meant to be celebrating your victory.”  

There’s not enough acid in his tone for this to truly be a fight. Ares’ jaw clenches, he bites out a terse, “How benevolent.” 

“Aren’t I?” He’s got nectar and his sutures in hand, that focused look falling upon his face when he switches from overbearing busybody to Paeon of the Gods. “Now strip unfaltering Ares, let us see the measure of damage done to your indomitable flesh.” 

(Somewhere between the fifth set of stitches and the gentle frown that crosses Phoebus’ face when he notices the persistent tremble in his fingers, Ares pins his eyes to the far wall and asks, “What does it mean when Father says ‘well done’?” 

Any other sibling would mock before they gave a true response. Any other sibling would laugh and dismiss it, would say that praise is praise and any lingering ill feeling is just the worst of the war still fogging his mind. Phoebus does not answer immediately. He doesn’t make a single sound. The question settles like fetid water between them, unignorable, the scent right there on the tip of the tongue yet firmly unacknowledged. Ares closes his eyes and tries again to settle his squirming so he does not interfere with Phoebus’ work.  The metallic snip of scissors cutting thread breaks the silence. Phoebus bids him to sit up and slides his warm palms up his back until his fingers tangle gently in the ends of his hair. He twists the dark red strands until he’s gathered it all into a neat handful, holding it loosely as he switches his scissors for his shearing blade. “You should know it was not praise,” Phoebus says softly. The first of Ares cut hairs fall like viscera from his head. Phoebus treats each cutting with the sacredness of a blood-sacrifice. If he focused on the moment of tension right before the blade cuts though, Ares thinks he can imagine the agony of his sister’s sacred birth. “It is acknowledgement. Father thinks you’ve done well so he says ‘well done’.”

Gently, Phoebus releases him. Ruffles his head so all the extra hairs fall like red rain to the floor. Ares runs his fingers through the ends now curling against his ear. “Has he ever told you ‘well done’?” 

A laugh, warm and gilded, “No, and it would not make you feel better if he had.” 

Ares swallows down a thousand different questions. Phoebus wouldn’t answer them, he’s infuriating like that. Instead, he clenches his teeth, the phantom of Father’s dizzying tangle of grey cloud-hairs persistent in the corner of his eyes. “Cut it shorter.”

Phoebus doesn’t protest. He never seems to say a word when it really matters.)

[xmultifandomsx]

jason can't use autocorrect anymore

Picture this: Jason having disabled autocorrect on all his electronics. Normally, it doesn't matter. Jason's vocabulary is spectacular and so is his spelling, it's one of those things he's always prided himself on. No one could ever tell he was from Crime Alley just looking at his essays. However, he's not perfect and sometimes it's hard to type in blood-soaked leather gloves so there's the occasional typo. It drives Bruce nuts, like really nuts. And every time he sends in a report with an accidental typo Bruce sends it back with the word highlighted in bright fucking yellow. It pisses him off to no end. So he complains about it to Dickie once after Bruce had just returned his 12 page report having highlighted 'Sucinylcholine' in yellow. Dick takes one look at it and asks, like an asshole, "Why don't you just turn on spellchecking?" Why don't you just meh meh meh, god he's such a wonder boy. And then that weasly, little snake snorts as he types away on the bat computer.

"Yeah," Drake giggles. "Why don't you?"

Jason can't help but grind his teeth, he knows exactly why. Drake is the reason he had to disable it in the first place, even if he can't prove it. It wasn't a coincidence that right after he and Tim had one of their blowout arguments, someone had changed the autocorrect on his phone so whenever he typed 'Bruce' or 'B' it changed to 'Dad' and if he typed 'Batman' it changed to 'Batdad' without his approval. And if that wasn't bad enough, they somehow managed to do the same thing on his laptop. And his burner phone. And his other burner phone. And you get the point. No matter how many times he tried to change his settings or buy new electronics the autocorrect issue remained. See, Jason isn't the most technologically advanced of his siblings but he could get by. Except when it came to smartphones, he was pretty useless when it came to the settings app on his phone. It wasn't his fault, when he died he still had a flip phone! So, try as he might he couldn't really fix it on his own and he was only slightly mortified to ask anyone else for help so he'd just turned off autocorrect and spellcheck in general.

"It doesn't matter," Jason muttered. "It's not my fault B is such a tightwad."

"I think you meant dad," the little shit giggles, taking off before Jason can reach the computer and strangle the asshole.

He fucking knew it!

(Cue Dick just staring after them confused but smiling bc his brothers are bonding)

[blaithnne]

This is their dynamic during and post S3

[stop-breaking-my-heart-dragonage]

Every time I see someone earnestly say that Carver hates Hawke, I have to exercise such restraint to not scream.

Every day I get closer to writing a deep dive about him because that's my guy. He's so interesting. He feels so much. He tries so hard when talking to the other companions and some of the dynamics he has with them are so good. He can be so fucking funny and sweet and awkward. He so badly wants to be wanted and appreciated and to protect everyone he loves.

Carver Hawke, they could never make me hate you.

[thehealingsystem]

just a psa if you support borderlines but dont support those with narcissistic or antisocial or histrionic personality disorder then we dont want your support <3 ty

[rbtlvr]

'Is this like an Alice in Wonderland thing?' Leo called out, paddling towards Sensei and trying not to swallow water as he moved. 'Did you cry all these tears?' 'The mindscape does love a good metaphor.' Sensei called back, and he sounded fucking wrecked.

old dead bones that don't get theirs (death wish sidefic by @remedyturtles) was written to kill me, specifically, personally, actually. i still think about it Constantly

[toastingpencils37]

Donnie's so real for that actually (especially since Leo apparently broke his own phone in probably less than 2 months ToT)

[aflamboyanceofflamingos]

Little brothers Jason, Tim, And Damian all in the backseat of Dick’s Mini Cooper singing their hearts out to Taylor Swift while Dick curses out the driver in front of them that went straight in a left only lane

[finemealprompt]

DP x DC Prompt #71

When Stephanie first discovered her father was Cluemaster, she knew what she had to do. She knew she had to spoil his plans, and make it known to the world. She had to be smart about it, however. If he found out it was her behind it, he could do something bad to her. Or worse, bad to her brother, Danny.

[transmascissues]

8 hours until i get top surgery and i’m so fucking excited

once i’m out of the initial recovery stage i’m definitely gonna want to talk about it a TON so if anyone has any questions about top surgery or things they haven’t heard other people talk about or anything like that, give them to me!!!! please fuel my need to never shut up about this ever again