#and have one child together

[white-gold-tower]

They’re back!

[nerdpoe]

When Danny decides to reincarnate, centuries after his adventures, he chooses a random Dimension of Heroes and Villains.

He's expecting adventure! Heroics! A life worth bragging about in the Afterlife!

He wakes up in a tube, staring down at surprised teen heroes as they release him and another person.

Later, he finds out that he's a clone of Batman and Superman, and the other clone is of Superman and Lex Luthor.

He came into this world expecting adventures, not a weird custody battle about him and his brother (because that's what Conner is) between two A-List superheroes.

[heart-locket-musicboxless]

And then they all lived happily ever after and Phillip definitely didn't murder his brother then cloned him then murdered him again :)

[blue-mood-blue]

I’ve grown to appreciate the aus where Shen Yuan enters the story as “Shen Yuan” - same name, probably similar face, generally able to interact with PIDW as himself and change the story through his added presence. I like the sense of “if only you’d been here, things might have been better the first time around” of it all.

And I was thinking, it’s a funny coincidence in that scenario that someone named Shen Yuan gets put into… another Shen Yuan. What are the chances? What a weird twist of fate that Airplane would pick out the name that his most dedicated critic could slip into seamlessly.

What about a version where it’s not coincidence at all?

Airplane goes to school with a kid named Shen Yuan. He’s prickly and hard to approach and a little intense, but Airplane is persistent. In fairness, Airplane is relentless - and maybe it’s a good thing that they end up being friends, because they’re a little too much for anyone else to handle. They balance each other out. They’re the “weird kids” in class and they’re okay with that, because even when they don’t have any words for it, they know they’re not like their classmates, not really. That’s okay; they don’t want to be.

Recesses and breaks are consumed with the elaborate stories that Airplane wants to tell, and all the holes Shen Yuan pokes into them. It’s not mean-spirited, though, even though Shen Yuan isn’t the kind to temper his words. It’s passionate. He cares about those stories the way Airplane cares about them, and it can’t be mistaken for anything else when they lean together conspiratorially across the lunchroom table. They’ve both got notebooks filled with details and characters and monsters. Shen Yuan’s practically got a whole bestiary sketched out in wobbly childhood attempts at art, entries fervently scrawled beside them. Airplane prattles out plots nonstop, always with the promise of shining eyes and being asked “what happens next?”

They come up with a whole world together. Airplane’s going to write about it someday. Shen Yuan is going to read every word.

Shen Yuan misses school. Shen Yuan starts missing school a lot.

Airplane goes to the hospital room instead. He doesn’t think to worry, because Shen Yuan is okay - that’s what he says. He looks okay, and he’s a kid, and it doesn’t feel real that anything bad should happen to a kid. He doesn’t think to worry. He doesn’t think to say goodbye.

It’s one of the older Shen brothers who catches him on the way up to the room one day, in the hallway just outside - snaps at him to go the fuck home, and when Airplane hesitates, pushes him into the elevator and tells him not to come back. “Tells” is a generous way to describe the way the words come out - a growl, a hiss, the sound an animal would make when a hand got too close to a wound.

(It’s not fair to name a villain after him, even if the name never really comes up in the story. He wasn’t trying to be mean. He’d lost a brother minutes before, and he was getting his brother’s friend out of the way so he didn’t have to… see. It isn’t fair, but then, none of it is fair.)

Death feels very real after that.

The notebooks get shoved into a closet, and it’s not until Airplane’s moving out and one falls on him from a high shelf that he thinks about it again. He’s written things, lots of things, but nothing as ambitious as this - nothing as important. It could be good, he considers. He’d promised. Shen Yuan wanted to read it.

The problem was that no one else does, not for a long time, not until Airplane has whittled himself and his art into a corner and into such an unfamiliar shape that he has to wonder how it’s still his own face he sees in the mirror. He has to eat. He has to pay rent. Shen Yuan would yell at him, but Shen Yuan isn’t there to yell at him, and who cares. Who cares if it could have been better? The people who actually are here love it, and it’s paying his bills, and sometimes stories don’t go the way they’re supposed to and the world is fucking unfair. It doesn’t matter.

(It does. But he shoves that thought away along with styrofoam cups and soda bottles to the bottom of a garbage bag.)

Authors are not gods and their power is limited, but Airplane exercises just a sliver of what he’s been granted and gifts an inconsequential sort of immortality. He thinks about making him a rogue cultivator, maybe the kind that goes around documenting beasts and compiling his findings. He thinks about making him someone too powerful for death to touch, or too important to threaten, but when Airplane looks at the world he crafted and everything that’s become of it, it feels like the kindest thing he can do for Shen Yuan is a childhood where he’s loved, and a death that’s peaceful. What does it say about that world, that he’d kill off his best friend too early again instead of making him live there?

(The best writing he ever does is the only, shining moment of humanity that his scum villain ever displays: a lament about death that comes too early, about a brother gone too soon. The commenters praise him. The commenters flatter over how real the emotions feel. The commenters don’t get any response from Airplane on that chapter.)

Death is incredibly real when it comes for him too early, too, still hovering over his keyboard with the story technically finished and incredibly incomplete. Airplane could tell himself that’s because the written version can never be the version in the writer’s head, always shifting and with every possibility still on the table, but he knows better than that. The System knows better than that, with its condescending message about “improving” his writing and “closing plot holes” and “achieving his original vision”...

…and he’s a child again. He’s a child in his own story, he’s Shang Qinghua now without the benefit yet of a peak or cultivation or anything, and maybe he’s a little bitter, and a little scared, and…

And Shen Yuan - with longer hair, with robes, with a couple of older kids watching him from across the street, but undeniably the prickly little boy who used to sit down imperiously across from him and tell him everything that was wrong with the chuck of writing that had been handed to him last period, but with that smile that said he was only invested because he knew it could be better and they were going to make it better - marches up to him with a fire in his eyes and a frown that warns of a coming tirade.

“You told it wrong,” is the first thing he says.

Shang Qinghua wants to ask how him how he’s here, how this is possible, or maybe laugh because, yeah - yeah, Shen Yuan has no goddamn idea how wrong he got absolutely everything.

(Shang Qinghua wants to say “I missed you” and “why did you leave so soon” but he’s here now. He’s right here.)

“I know,” he says instead. “I’m sorry. It all kind of… spiraled out of control.”

Shen Yuan frowns, but then it dissipates the way it always does, and his eyes shine with ideas the way they always used to. “That’s okay,” he relents, grabbing for his hand. “We’ll fix it. We’ll make it what it was supposed to be.”

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 115

“Seriously old man?” the rumbling voice nearly caused Tim to jump, his eyes darting away from where Ras was sitting, the Al Ghul almost seeming to perk. It was kind of hard to miss the man… teen… being? It was kind of hard to miss the owner of the voice what with how their hair looked like it was on fire. 

They motioned around at well, everything, crimson eyes looking exasperated. “Really?” They were definitely motioning towards him, interrupting Ras when he opened his mouth to talk. “No, I don’t want to hear it, I swear- Did he kidnap you?” That was definitely aimed at him. 

“N-no?” Tim was feeling slightly unbalanced and may be on hour sixty without sleep at this point, if the hour long nap was counted. “I need help finding my not-dad who's lost in time.” 

The being let out a strangled noise that Tim could nearly swear was almost another one, but couldn’t vocalize his slurred thoughts as the dude muttered something, motioning around as though he was tempted to strangle something or someone. 

Ras cleared his throat, looking almost awkward which was how Tim knew he had to be dreaming or drugged. Probably drugged. “Jordan, how good to see you, it’s been so long-”

“Can it Pops,” the being-named-Jordan scoffed, finger pointing towards the Demon’s Head. “Moms still pissed and isn’t coming back any time soon with you still pulling this shit.” 

Tim felt his brain stall, process for a moment, then process some more over what he just heard before his mouth ran before it could catch up. “Ras is married???” 

[otaku553]

More doodles for the one piece spy x family crossover

[this-is-a-name-dont-worry]

"Wait is that lore?" moments in Antoine's return stream

These ones are likely jokes, but (you can use it in your headcanons):

With Tubbo, explaining his absence by saying "I was dead, I think, but not anymore, I was tired of being dead"

"I couldn't explain to you, it's out of my understanding how I'm dressed. The human mind cannot comprehend how I'm dressed and so the human brain shows it that way, but it isn't exactly like that. It's not powerful, it's just weird"

"You know me well!" "Heh, I know you as if I made you!" *silence* (closest to maybe serious)

These ones are more serious:

He isn't romantically interested by Cucurucho, he just likes his ass (that totally a human is aro that's what I mean)

He really missed Pomme, he stopped coming because without her it wasn't interesting anymore (this one is just cute)

Very invested in knowing what happened to the eggs while they were away

Accidentally gave Pomme one of the books Ourson (I think it's this one?) gave him, immediately panicking when he realized. When Pomme asks what it was, he first tries to pretend not to understand, and is pretty serious when he tells her that it's nothing; he'll tell her about it one day, and it's his little secret garden, everyone should be allowed to have secrets, don't she think? she isn't against secrets, right?

Certain that the eggs went to some kind of other dimensions/got doubles?? I mean there was a theory inspired by Stranger Things but despite what Pomme is saying he's not letting go of the idea

After asking Pomme if she met dark Cucurucho and she talks about the Watcher: "Je crois pas qu'on parle de la même chose. Là tu me parles de l'oeil, et moi je pense que je te parle de quelque chose d'autre. Je pense que tu me parles du Watcher... là où moi je te parle d'autre chose." ("I think we're not talking about the same thing. Here you're talking about the eye, and me I think I'm talking about something else. I think you're talking about the Watcher... when me I talk about something else" again how does he know the name "Watcher".)

Knows that Maximus is dead, when all the other players seem to have decided to play the "don't know if he's alive or dead" card (bonus: Antoine and Pomme talking about telling Aypierre, and Pomme thinking she won't be able to find the right words "I don't think there are right words..." ok im sad now thanks). Since we're at it, when reading Pomme diary where she worries about Baghera and Antoine being dead, saying they can't be dead, he doesn't share that worry in the slightest, as if he knows Baghera's not dead (this one's dubious and I am very willing to put it as cc!Antoine not thinking rp)

He and Pomme are talking about what she remembers of the Watcher and honestly the whole conversation deserves to be clipped and transcribed. To go with him name dropping the Watcher, he is now only calling it the creature with one eye because that's how Pomme calls it

Pomme explains that the Watcher was observing her and Richas and there was a threatening aura to it, so they immediately fled. Antoine in a very serious voice "You were right to, you were right to, you were right to. Because I think it's this person who was at the origin of your disappearance."

[ro-bee]

Some doodles I drew last night of the best character ever (I am in pain)

Also jiginkas of the ships because I'm proud of them 🔥❤

[goldengirlgalaxy]

You know how there's a whole thing about how DC superheroes die and get brought back a lot? Well, for DPxDC, how about this?

Every time a Justice League member gets resurrected, their ghost remains in the Ghost Zone.

So you'll have a member of the Justice League bite the bullet for whatever reason, they'll form as a ghost in the Ghost Zone. They'll make themselves comfortable, maybe they'll even becoming defenders of peaceful ghosts who have no experience fighting or no desire to fight. Maybe they'll find dead family members and re-establish their bonds. Maybe they'll find other dead members of the Justice League and make and undead branch of the Justice League. Maybe they'll meet Danny and either help teach him how to be a hero (if he's still young) or become a hero group supported by him (if he becomes the king).

And then, for whatever reason, someone found the magical amulet that can revive a person, they somehow developed 1-Ups for a limited time, the revival machine finally got a tune up, the hero gets revived. But the ghost doesn't leave the Ghost Zone. Because of this, the revived hero doesn't have any memories of their time in the afterlife. The ghost probably doesn't even notice something changed and that their old body is up and running again.

This all ends up coming to a head when the GIW decide to push the manhunt for Danny Phantom and all other ghosts, lying to the Justice League in order to convince them to help. They eventually decide to hunt down Danny and corner him, ready to capture him...

… And suddenly he's saved by a bunch of ghosts that look identical to them.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Whooooo could have predicted this?

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[bruhstation]

who here loves divorce? I do. here's captain star and captain zero: two people who can't help but drag other unwilling people into their huge mess! including the youth. can't forget the youth

(bit of ramble in the tags)

[add1ctedt0you]

the rest is undercut because it's ugly af

[dirk-menace]

thought about fully rendering this before but gonna post it like this

The Time Child timeline hopped to hang out with like the only other sane kid out there but his mood is still not in the best place

( Jenny draws him and talks about him to her parents and they think he's her imaginary friend thank you very much )

the gay divorced objects drama is still strong as shit and polycules don't exist until I post all my funny memes

[swordheld]

hi! your blog is one of my favourites and i absolutely adore reading your thoughts. my grandfather recently passed away and it feels like i lost myself with him. how do i continue living after this? there is this constant weight on my chest and it feels like an emptiness has made a home inside of me. how do i go on when it feels like the world crashed on my shoulders?

hello, love! this is so very sweet and kind of you, and i hope you're treating yourself gently and kindly right now - there aren't words for a loss like this. that heaviness is difficult, and hard, and painful. it's okay if things don't feel okay, right now, or even soon - i think that's something that a lot of the people i know that have gone through similar grief feel: like they should be able to get back to a relative 'normal' in a [insert far too short period of time].

but it's okay if it hurts. that's where i'd like to start. you're allowed to feel that emptiness, that world-crashed feeling that goes beyond words, beyond time. don't feel like you have to rush this to feel some sort of better. things get easier with time, i promise you this, but sometimes painful feelings are important to feel, too. cry, scream, feel your emotions. they're a part of you. grieve.

it's perhaps a little silly, but when i think about death i always think about a couple of space songs: mainly drops of jupiter by train and saturn by sleeping at last. there are perhaps others that speak to the emotions better, but these two have always hit something a little deeper for me, and are popular for a wide-reaching reason.

and while personally i don't know much about grief like this, i do know a lot about love; and i think they're a lot of the same thing.

the people we love are a part of us, and this is why it takes from us so deeply when we lose them, because it does feel like we've lost a part of ourselves in the wake of it. but it's because they were so central to our experiences of living - our lives, that the separation introduces a hollowness - a place where they used to be. a home that now goes unlived in.

an emptiness, like you said.

but just because they're not here physically, doesn't mean he's not still there, in your heart, in your life, your memory. you can hold him close in smaller ways, as well: steal a sweater, or cologne/scent for something a little more physical and long lasting for remembering. hold onto the memories you cherish, the things that made you laugh, the ease of slow mornings and gentle nights. write them all down, slide a few photographs in there, go through it and add more when you miss him. keep them all close, keep them in your heart.

you're not alone, in this. he's still there, with you, it's just - in the little things.

he's with you in the way you see and go about your daily life, in doing what he liked to do, in the ways he interacted with the world that you shared with him. the memories you recall fondly when the night is late or the moment is right and something calls it into you like a melody, an old bell, laughter you'd recognize anywhere.

but i think, perhaps most importantly above all others - talk about him. with your family, your friends, his friends, strangers; stories are how we keep the people we love alive. the connections they've made, the legacies and experiences they've left behind, and so, so many stories.

how lucky, we are - to love so much it takes a piece of us when they go. grief is the other side of the coin, but it does not mean our love goes away. it lives in you. it lives in everyone who knew him, in the smallest pieces of our lives.

the people we love never really leave us, like this: they're in how we cook and the way we fold our newspapers, our laundry, in the radio stations we tune in to and the way we decorate our walls, our photo albums. they're in the way we store our mail, organize our closets, the scribbled notes in the indexes of our books. the meals we love and the drinks we mix, the way we spend time with one another. they've been passed down for generations, for longer than history - and we are all the luckier for it.

think about what you shared with him, and do it intentionally. bring him into your life, like this, again. whether it's crosswords or poetry or sports or anything else. if one doesn't help, try another. something might click.

i hope things feel a little easier for you, as they tend to do only with time. i hope you find joy in your grief, even if it is small and hard to grasp at first. know that your hurt stems from so much love that there isn't a place to put it properly, and that it is something so meaningful and hurting poets and storytellers have been struggling to put it into words and sounds that feel like the fit right for eons, and that it is also just simply yours. sometimes things don't have to make sense. sometimes they just are - unable to be put into words or neat little sentiments, as unfair and tragic as they come.

but i promise it will not feel like this forever. your love is real. and perhaps, on where to begin on from here - i think it's less on finding where to begin and just beginning. and you've already started. you've taken the most important and crucial step: the first one. wherever you go, after that, from here? you'll figure it out. you always have, and you always do. it'll come, as things always do. love leads us, as does light - and you're never alone in your hurt. in your grief, your missing something dear to you. i think if you talk about it with others, you'll find they have ways of helping you cope as well - and they have so much love of their own to spare, too.

as an aside, here is the song (northern star by dom fera) i was listening to when i wrote this, for no other reason more than it makes me think of connections, and love, and how we hold onto the people we love and how they change us, wonderfully and intrinsically. it's a little more joyous than the others i've mentioned, and plays like a story, and it made me think of what is at the core of this, love and stories and i am here with you, and maybe it'll bring you some joy, if you'd like it. wishing you all my love and ease 💛

[tending-the-hearth]

i can't sleep and all i'm thinking about is how percy and clarisse are best friends but best friends in the most sibling "i hate you more than anything but if anyone so much as looks at you wrong i will kill them in a heartbeat" way

like their quest together where they saw each other's biggest fear, percy overhearing clarisse's conversation with ares, clarisse pleading with percy to understand that silena was a hero????

you cannot tell me that sally jackson didn't take one look at clarisse and not completely want to engulf this broken, hardened teenage girl in the warmest hug possible.

just percy and clarisse being best friends and no one knows the specifics, no one except for annabeth and chris knows exactly what went down.

and god forbid these two have a normal friendship, they will bicker and snap and say the harshest things, but they can also have entire conversations with their eyes and know exactly when the other is being triggered into a bad memory and needs to spar or talk.

like yes they're each other's rival but they're also each other's support system. they're best friends, they're siblings, they're enemies to friends to "i hope you get eaten by a hellhound but if that happened i'd go down to the underworld to get you back because i platonically can't live without you".

these two are trauma bonded to the max and i'm begging people to start talking about their friendship more

[spaghetti-machete]

i really hope we end the season with nandor fighting laszlo over guillermo. i reeeeeally want a twilight situation of jealousy so bad