#ship snippets

[scuffe3d]

Feeding the adam-gooner community one sketch at a time…(LMFAO BYE TIKTOK☠️☠️)

[danganronpa-shipping-galore]

Danganronpa Ship: Hajime/Gundham 💚💜

Imagine...

Hajime often translates Gundham's overly roundabout, enigmatic words whenever Gundham is trying to flirt or express his love. Hearing his own words repeated in such a straightforward ways gets Gundham flustered beyond belief, which is exactly what Hajime intended.

[cabezadeperro]

hi there! 💖 for Cody/Fox if you’re vibing with it

unfortunately i am always vibing with cody/fox (also sorry i don't think this was what you asked for ahdghkhghkdhkgh)

post order 66, fox lives au & purge trooper!cody.

💖 rough kiss / hot and heavy / making out

---

“I thought you were dead.”

The shuttle rattles—they’re leaving atmo. Fox shifts his weight and says nothing. Cody scoffs and shakes his head. He’s still wearing most of his shell: the black plates reflect the red emergency lights, and so do his eyes, shining like twin flames in the dark. His hair is the shortest that Fox has ever seen, buzzed close to the skin, and he looks—sharp. Too thin, all his edges out there for the world to see.

His wrists are shackled together, the heavy handcuffs resting on his lap where he’s buckled to one of the jump seats. He seems perfectly unconcerned about his situation, and Fox can’t quite decide if it’s real or just for show. 

“I know,” he finally says. “It was on purpose.”

Cody blinks. Fox wonders: did he grieve? Did Cody grieve for him? The chip allows it—that’s not what it’s for. Grief isn’t useful.

“How?”

Fox shrugs. “Many people died in the last few days of the war,” he points out. 

“But not you,” Cody says. He sounds thoughtful. He’s not looking at Fox but at his own hands. 

The shuttle’s getting ready to jump. It’s an old model, with a boring transponder code. It has a crappy hyperdrive, a tiny fresher and a couple pull-down cots folded over the seats. The hold is full—mostly junk. Trinkets. Fox will find somewhere to sell them after he delivers Cody to the Rebellion.

He doubts he’ll see Cody again. Fox’s not welcome where they are going, and he dislikes spending time among birthers anyway.

Fox looks away. Six hours. These are the last six hours he’ll spend in Cody’s presence, and then he’ll—leave. He’ll leave Cody in his captain’s hands and then he’ll leave forever. 

It’s so strange. A lifetime in each other’s pockets, and then the war, and then this: sharing the relative quiet of a shitty, rattling old shuttle after the end of the world.

“Fox,” Cody says suddenly. Fox blinks and turns to look at him. Cody’s already staring at him: the dim light makes the bruises on his face look deeper, the blood on his chin seem black. “I think I fucking hate you.”

Fox snorts. It hurts, the laughing and the words. He leaves his place to the side, next to the door to the cockpit, and approaches his brother.

“You’re not the only one,” he tells Cody. Cody rolls his eyes, and it makes him look so—young, that for a beat Fox almost forgets himself.

“I’m glad you’re not dead,” he replies, and then leans back in his seat, a weird little smile on his face. Half smug smirk, half something else, both off and profoundly familiar.

He looks up at Fox, the lights sliding down his cheekbones and the bridge of his nose, legs sprawled. His boot knocks against Fox’s foot, once, twice, then stays.

“You may be the only one,” Fox tells him. 

This is a mistake—Cody’s brilliant and Cody’s ruthless.

Fox leans forward, places his hands on the armrests of Cody’s seat. The shackles clink. They are heavy, cumbersome things. Cody smells of blood and sweat and blaster discharge and melted plastoid. Fox breathes him in: he wants to open his mouth and let it all rest on his tongue, filling his brain.

He still kisses like he used to. Fox feels himself moan into his mouth, Cody biting at his lips and sucking on his tongue, straining against the buckles and the weight of his handcuffs. Fox allows it for long, long seconds—Cody’s breath on his lips and on his chin, the taste of him, the way he sounds.

It takes him longer than Fox expected. He tries to go for Fox’s blaster, Fox steps away, and then it’s back to sleep, Cody’s head lolling against the seat. Fox wipes his wet mouth, still breathing hard, his lips tingling, and puts away the injector. 

His heart is beating hard inside his chest, and he feels—Fox finds he feels worse now. He sits down on the jumpseat next to Cody’s, and when Cody’s head ends up resting on his shoulder he allows it.

I’ll miss you.

Fox leans his cheek on Cody’s shaved head, his growing hair soft against his skin, and closes his eyes.

[novelconcepts]

💕 taivan in a game / after an injury

💕 kissing somewhere other than lips

If Van Palmer had a dollar for every injury sustained in goal, she wouldn't need a scholarship to get out of this shithole town. Injuries are part and parcel, she'll tell anyone who asks. Injuries are even fun.

It's true--in the aftermath. After the body has healed, and all she has left is a bruise or a scar, and a story. The fun part is in reliving the narrative, not the pain.

The pain sucks pretty bad, all things considered.

She leans back against the wall, an ice pack held to her eye. Every so often, she has to remind herself to move it; the thing about catching a ball with your face is it tends to black both eyes. And bust up your nose. And fatten your lip.

"You're a fucking mess," Taissa says. "No more than ten minutes on that eye, remember."

"This ain't my first rodeo," Van says, though it's the worst injury she's sustained in quite some time. Getting bonked on the noggin is nothing. Stopping a corner kick with the bulk of her face is...worse.

She moves the pack dutifully to her right eye, resetting her internal clock. Ten minutes, and then her nose can have a turn. It's a great game of pin-the-ice-on-the-goalie, aiming, as always, to dodge frostbite.

"At least we won," says Tai. Van gives her a bleary grin.

"I'd have told people we won either way. It being true just makes this hardcore, instead of humiliating."

"It can be both," Tai says. She, too, is sitting against the wall. The rest of the team has long hit the showers, making loud noises about a post-game trip to Muriel's. Tai has every right to join them. She doesn't have a probable concussion.

"Hardcore," Van repeats. She lowers the ice, gingerly grazing her top lip with one finger. Yup. That'll make talking stupid for a few days. At least she didn't lose any fucking teeth. "Chicks dig hardcore."

"Do they," says Tai flatly, though her smile betrays her amusement. She's always like this when Van pokes her. Doesn't want to admit a goddamn thing, but no one would smile like that if Van were wrong.

"I'm told," she says thickly, "chicks dig goalies in particular. Since we are--"

"Concussed?"

"Awesome." Van dabs at her nose. No longer bleeding. That's nice. "Come on, you have to admit it was cool. Look at me, I'm a walking war hero."

Taissa does look at her. For the first time, she turns her shoulders off the wall and just: looks. Her eyes are inscrutable. She's still smiling, but it's faint, almost distracted.

"What?" Van asks suspiciously. "I know I look like a train hit me, but it was a cool train. I--hey, what are you doing?"

"Shh," Tai says, sounding more confident than she looks. She looks deeply terrified, one hand braced against Van's cheek. Terrified, and like she's made a decision she can't take back, and: hey. Here she comes, right into Van's personal bubble, her lips grazing just beneath Van's left eye.

Van closes on instinct, and receives a second kiss for her trouble, this time on the lid. Taissa shifts her angle, her mouth lingering lightly beneath Van's right eye next. Then the right lid. Then, bewilderingly, the tip of Van's nose.

"Not broken," Tai says softly. Van's eyes are still closed. She's a little afraid to pry them open, afraid the blurred image of Taissa Turner will vanish into hallucinatory smoke.

"Not broken," she breathes. "Just a little busted."

"Worth it?" Tai asks. Her hand falls away. Van's skin tingles where she's been kissed--both eyes, both cheeks, her nose. Her mouth is dry. She's grateful and miserable at the same time, that Tai hasn't kissed her there too.

"Yeah," she says. "Yeah. Super worth it."

Taissa hefts the ice pack and presses it firmly against Van's mouth. "Good. You're still a fucking mess."

Van grins.

[shycorvid]

Damian continues to be charmed by Danny's feralness.

*Damian's phone ringing seconds after Damian witnesses Danny training alley cats to specifically hate the color yellow because reasons* Damian- Hello? Jon- Damian, are you having a heart attack?! Damian- What. Jon- Did someone poison you?! *starts wailing* Dami, are you dying?! Damian- No. What on earth made you think- Jon- Your heartbeat was normal, and then all of a sudden there was a Thump-THUMP instead of thumpthumpthump and that only happens when you’re about to die! Damian- *sighs as a cat starts shredding the provided yellow construction paper* Unfortunately, I am not. Todd still refuses to do the right thing.

[angelbitezzz]

"The stars had long since become mundane to Comet. When you're surrounded by them, traveling in them, eventually it becomes something no longer worth finding wonder in. After all, what mattered was credits, what mattered was finding ways to extend the endless journey, to keep moving.

But this monster? It was as if he'd stepped out of a star himself, a comforting glow radiating from him. It was warm...friendly. Beautiful."

[fistfuloflightning]

Shen Qingqiu had not expected this mission to be overly hard, even with Qi-shijie breathing down his neck and his shizun’s expectations hanging over his head like a sword. In fact it was intended to be simple reconnaissance for information. But the moment they stepped into the thriving black market in Hongmen City, he felt unease. He pulled the veil of his weimao closer around him, and Qi Qingqi did the same next to him as they pushed through the crowd of similarly masked patrons to find a suitable place to observe. It was tradition to go about hidden for auctions such as this, and Shen Qingqiu was grateful for the anonymity it provided.

The auction house was large and near gaudy in its ornamentation. It was like it was painting a target on itself. Hiding in plain sight, as it were. Because on the surface it offered stolen artifacts and scrolls of forbidden techniques and cultivation tools only for those with money and the ruthlessness to use it. But beneath the veneer ran the true lifeblood of the auction house.

Cauldron trafficking.

Cang Qiong had received rumors and reports as far back as a year prior of vanishings and the selling of humans, and only now had they been able to pinpoint a location. Shen Qingqiu wondered at the incompetence, considering how the auction house was hiding in plain sight.

Sitting at a third story railing and looking down at the center stage, Shen Qingqiu let his senses wander. From the waiter placing tea at their table, to a trio of black-veiled scholars conversing two pillars over, to the low rumble of talk beneath the chime and clatter of anticipation. And when the last of the items were sold off and the presenter beckoned forward a young woman bound in chains, Shen Qingqiu knew the only way he could remain impartial was to turn his attention resolutely away from the stage below.

But he could not block the words, of humans being sold off like chattel. He knew what it felt like to stand beneath cruel evaluating eyes, to know your life meant little to the rest of the world and that your death would be just as unremarkable.

He downed near an entire pot of tea before he could force himself to look back down.

The next exhibit. A young man, high qi levels, only two former owners, lightly used.

Lightly used. His hand tightened into a bloodless fist, hidden by his sleeves. He was no longer a slave, he reminded himself, all of his former owners were dead. He was here for the express purpose of destroying this kind of slavery. Like all the cauldrons shown before, the current exhibit had been stripped nearly naked to show off his physical features. Young, slender, with soft brown hair that had been left unattended and lay limp down his back. Something about the young man’s defeated posture dredged up memories for Shen Qingqiu and he looked away. “Surely this is enough to report back,” he hissed to his senior sister, who had been observing the people around them.

“We must wait until the end. And I need to figure out at least two of the major buyers. Xian Xu Peak would be able to trace the buyers and discover just how far the trafficking ring extended.

Below them, the cauldron was forced to walk about. His posture was that of a long-term slave beaten into submission, but the way his gaze flicked up spoke of defiance. For a fraction of a second, those eyes met his—a clear honey-brown that haunted his memories even now.

Shen Yuan.

He nearly jerked up out of his seat. But only the fear of his presence blowing their cover kept him in place. If he revealed their identities now, Shen Yuan would be whisked away and he would never find him again.

After he’d killed Wu Yanzi, he’d relied on the connections he made while under the cultivator’s ‘tutelage’, and the brothel workers he’d begged food scraps from, while Wu Yanzi had wasted their precious coin on pleasure, had welcomed him. One such brothel had been home to a courtesan and her son, with whom Shen Jiu had grown attached. He hadn’t stayed there long, long enough to fall for a sharp tongue and pretty eyes.

He had given him the same promise Qi’ge had. And had failed him in the same way, returning too late to the brothel to free him from the contract he shared with his mother, because his mother was dead and Shen Yuan already sold off.

And now Shen Qingqiu knew where he was all these years. Being forced to dual cultivate and give up his own qi to others far more greedy and undeserving. He felt violently ill.

He couldn’t bid. He would not descend the levels of those around them… and he had no money. But that didn’t stop him from reaching into a sleeve to feel for his purse.

“Something caught your eye?” Qi Qingqi’s disgust was palpable. He knew she believed the rumors about him, about the brothels and the bought favors.

Only for him to come back to himself in time to see Shen Yuan dragged off the platform – auctioned off quickly, he realized with cold dread, but who had bought him? Using the weimao as a shield, Shen Qingqiu scanned those around them. But none looked to have made any sign.

“I—I must go.” Before it was too late. Qi Qingqi hissed after him, but he was deaf and blind to her fury. He no longer cared if he blew their cover, Qi-shijie would do her job without him no matter what. No, the only thing he cared about was finding Shen Yuan and fulfilling that broken promise.

also on ao3

[nerdanelparmandil]

Maedhros returns from Mandos, he doesn't know how or why. He feels as weary and burdened as the day he decided to end his life, but someone has decreed him healed and repented enough to release. So, life it is, even if it's still a burden. Bent by shame and regret, and by the knowledge that despite all, he had tried everything, every course of action, to reclaim the Silmarilli, fulfill the oath -- still it availed to nothing.

Fingon is not there when he's released, no one is. A long while will pass before he sees him.

Fingon regrets. He regrets his own death, the unfinished plans, the mistakes in the battle that cost them dearly. He regrets leaving Maedhros alone, dying before their vision could become a reality.

Most of all, he regrets Maedhros' own despair, that he has lost his faith completely and that he saw no other way out other than death.

One day they meet again, with all of their scars and open wounds.

The words, they do not come, not for a long time. Nothing Maedhros tries to say feels adequate, either too much or too little and his apologies remain stuck in his throat.

Fingon cannot say anything without his deep-seated rage seeping through. But the time for rage has gone, and he is too exhausted to keep digging up a long buried matter.

Yet, one question burns within him, and once the thought takes root, it becomes an obsession, and it's maddening.

So he asks, words spilling forth like burning lava, carving a path through his heart and threatening their fragile bond that has yet to heal.

"Would you have fought me?" he asks.

As the words leave his mouth, terror seizes him.

Maedhros frowns, the words not making sense. Fingon averts his eyes.

"If I-" he chokes on his words, stumbles, tries again. "If I had lived. At the Havens of Sirion, in that encampment, if I had been there, would you-" his voice is lost in a breath between them.

He cannot repeat the thought, too harrowing and condemning. It has escaped his lips and now will hang between them forever. He cannot take it back, and a chasm forms at the pit of his stomach. Suspended above the void, he waits for the inevitable fall.

He waits.

And waits.

The silence settles heavy in his heart, as it begins to break.

[yoonjae20]

A series of snapshots of how the public views Danny’s return [Bruce/Danny; Spirit Halloween]

I can't believe it's been already 5 days since I last written something. University has kept me so busy.

Anyway — on to the next part! I tried something different for the first half, I hope it's not too jarring. I thought it would be fun to have a sort of outside view of how the public see Danny and Bruce.

Read on ao3. Masterpost.

Previous. Next.

“Did you guys see the interview Lois Lane did with Bruce Wayne and his husband?” 

“I was so shocked when I heard the news. They do look cute together though!”

“I still can't believe that the most eligible bachelor of Gotham had been married all along! It does explain why he never dated anyone.”

“I know right! But they must be super private for it to only come out now.”

“Actually they said in the interview that his husband was busy with other affairs outside the country.”

“Don’t you think it almost makes it sound like he’s a royalty from a far away land? He was so serious when he said he needed to take care of his duties and responsibilities.”

“No way you are believing that conspiracy theory. There’s a thread that debunked it already. Apparently he’s from some no name city in the Midwest.”

“I did think he had an accent I couldn’t place. Did you watch the clip of the interview where Lois Lane asked who proposed first?”

“Wait, what? I can’t believe I missed that, I hadn’t had time to watch the full interview!”

“Me neither.”

“Here let me pull it up.”

“-So who proposed first?”

Danny and Bruce look at each other for a moment and the latter groans at the expression his husband wears.

“Please not, love.”

“But it’s such an adorable story!” 

“Now I’m only more curious,” Lois chuckles. 

“Well we were quite drunk that day to be honest,” Danny laughs. “It was almost midnight when we decided we needed a hotel. Unfortunately all rooms were booked other than a Love Suite.”

Lois leans forward, eager to hear more.

“The receptionist said they don’t have a room for us both unless we are a couple-“

Bruce buries his face into his hands.

“And Bruce said and I quote ‘Actually we are fiancées.’ I don’t know if the receptionist or Bruce was more flustered when we woke up in the morning.”

“Wow!” Lois exclaims. “I never thought I’d see the day where Bruce is embarrassed.”

Bruce still doesn’t look up from where he hides his face. 

“Yeah he couldn’t look me in the eyes for the entire following day,” Danny snickers. “I actually asked him when the wedding would be while we were eating breakfast. He almost choked on his food!” 

The clips ends and the girls giggle.

“And still people believe Bruce Wayne isn’t a huge himbo.” 

“I do wonder how his youngest came to be. Did he cheat while his husband was away on business?”

One of the girls opens her mouth but before she can share her opinion the other interrupts.

“If you tell me you believe the rumors he’s a clone too then I’m gonna hit you, Sarah.” 

“I’m just saying that we never saw his mother in public!” 

A loudspeaker announces the next stop.

“Come on, we’ll have to hurry to get the bus.”

Their voices fade as they leave the subway. 

“Huh, isn’t that Bruce Wayne’s husband? Who is that next to him?”

“I think that’s Jason Todd, you know the one who died and came back a few years ago? Apparently he was in witness protection or something.”

“Wow, I almost didn’t recognize him. They look so familiar with each other.”

They watch as the older man cackles as he throws fries in his mouth while the younger scowls and playfully punches the man’s forearm. 

“Yeah I heard that now that he is back in Gotham he has been on several outings with the rest of Bruce’s kids.”

“Even with his youngest?”

“Yeah they went to the zoo. With his oldest son he visited him at work I think. He also went to his daughter’s performance. I’m not sure if he did something with the Drake boy.”

“Talking about the devil…”

The door to the Batburger opens, Tim Drake as well as the rest of Bruce Wayne’s brood following him. The older man cheerfully greets them, ruffling the hair of Tim as he sits down next to him. Soon their happy chatter fills the fast food restaurant and the ones watching them move on to other topics. 

“I was skeptical but they do make a good pair.”

Bruce Wayne and his husband are greeting their guests for the charity with matching suits and beaming smiles. Bruce leans to whisper something in the man’s ear and he nods. He politely excuses himself before he hurries out of the room with a champagne glass in hand. 

“Indeed. I’m a bit surprised how well adjusted his husband is, considering I can’t recall ever seeing him at a gala.”

Bruce watches the man go with a genuine smile before he turns back to the people surrounding him.

“That brings me back to when Mr. Wayne first returned to Gotham. I can’t help but feel he looks more at ease now.”

“I know what you mean. He’s mellowed out a lot over the years. To think he had a secret lover he had been hiding all this time…”

“And he seems to be getting along with his kids too. Talking about them-”

Damian Wayne approaches his father, telling him something. Bruce hums before he excuses himself and his son as they go in the direction his husband had gone too. The two high society members quickly forgot about the strangeness of it. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Tim Drake so serious.”

“To think that Mr. Wayne would have died without his husband there- It sickens me.”

“The fact that his son has to hold the press conference must mean his injuries are even worse than speculated.”

“I heard that he might need to relearn to walk too.”

“His husband looked furious when the reporters swarmed them once they arrived at the scene — honestly I would be too.”

“They have no shame.”

“I wouldn’t want to be them or the Clown now.”

“I can’t believe Red Robin and Signal let him slip away. Where were Batman and Robin anyway?”

“I have no idea either. And here I thought Batman favors Mr. Wayne and his family.”

“It did seem that way. If the Clown washes up dead, I’m betting on Mr. Wayne’s husband.”

“One can only hope.”

Danny opens the door with a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. Those damn vultures. If he had known how annoying they would be, he would have convinced Bruce to go live with him in the Infinite Realms — although he knows that despite their love for each other, his need for revenge had outweighed everything else once he finished his travels across the world. 

He shakes his head and steps in the room, eyes trailing to the bed — Bruce should be still out on pain medications-

“Bruce!” Danny chides when he sees the man struggling to stand up from where he is seated on his bed. “What are you doing?”

He hurries to the man’s side and helps him back into the bed as he groans.

“What happened?”

Danny frowns as he sits down the chair next to his bedside. It pains him to see Bruce so obviously weak, face drenched in sweat — if he finds that Clown, he’ll-

“There was a Rogue attack during the charity gala,” Danny explains as he pushes away the dark thoughts — he can plan with Jason later. He is sure the boy will take him up on the offer. “Don’t you remember?”

“What about the target?”

Danny sighs as he leans back, eyes tired — he hadn’t slept a single wink since the incident, but leave it to Bruce to be concerned about anything other than his own health.

“Tim and Cass managed to detain them. We got surprised before you and Damian could change into your costumes.”

Danny knits his eyebrows together as Bruce raises a hand to his temple, obviously straining his memory to recall what happened. 

“You should rest, darling,” Danny leans forward and puts his hands over the man’s left hand. “My ectoplasm sped up things, but you were quite hurt. I'll tell the kids that you are awake.”

He moves to stand but Bruce grasps his wrist before he can move from his spot. It’s feather light — nothing like the reliable, strong grip Bruce normally has. Danny gnaws at his lips as he waits for Bruce to compose himself. 

“Stay,” he says, voice exhausted before he murmurs, “please.”

If this were any other circumstances Danny would have snorted at the man’s display of rather lacking emotional vulnerability, but this is also the first time in many years that he has seen the man seriously hurt and had been powerless to prevent it even though he had been right there. The comfort Bruce is seeking right now — it’s also something Danny needs. To make sure the man is still alive. 

The man scoots over as Danny climbs in the hospital bed and pulls him closer once Danny makes himself comfortable. Danny falls asleep to the rhythmic, slow sound of the man’s heartbeat.

Danny wakes up to hushed voices talking. He keeps his eyes closed as he becomes aware of his surroundings.There’s a hand in his hair and he can hear the rumble of Bruce’s chest as he speaks-

“-He looks too exhausted.”

“You should have seen him when he brought you to the ambulance,” Jason chuckles. “I thought he was gonna bite the next reporter that shoved themselves in his way.”

“We can be glad Daniel was there Father,” Damian says before he hesitates. “I don’t think I would have been able..:”

He trails off and the atmosphere turns somber. 

“Has there been a press conference yet?” Bruce asks as he shifts to hold Danny a bit closer.

“Yes, Tim took care of it,” Jason says. “He and Dick will come by tomorrow.”

“Very well,” Danny can feel Bruce nodding. “Go return to the manor, it’s getting late and I’m sure Alfred won’t appreciate you coming home after curfew.” 

Danny doesn’t need to open his eyes to know Jason is probably rolling his eyes.

“You say as if all your kids aren’t running around as vigilantes at night,” Jason says. “Besides I’m going to one of my safe houses for the night.”

Bruce grunts, displeased and Jason sighs. 

“Fine I’ll go to the manor,” he gives in. “But only because these are special circumstances.”

Bruce lets out a hum, now obviously pleased.

“Should we wake Danny?”

“No, Iet him sleep,” Bruce says, before a bit of amusement slips into his tone. “I’m sure the nurse will let it be once she recognizes him as Bruce Wayne’s husband.”

Jason scoffs, but doesn’t protest. Damian says goodbye to his father before both of them leave. It’s several minutes later that Bruce chuckles.

“I know that you are awake.”

Danny opens one eye, peaking at Bruce who is looking at him with a soft smile. He’s propped up against the headboard and Danny is relieved to see him looking better than when he stepped in the room a few hours ago. 

Danny sits up and raises an eyebrow.

“My breathing?” he asks and Bruce snorts. 

“It doesn’t need a Detective to notice that you suddenly started breathing again although you didn’t while you were asleep.”

Danny huffs out a breath — that tell is the only reason why Danny can never deceive the man. 

“I didn’t want to interrupt your conversation,” Danny says as he leans against the man.

Bruce frowns as he tucks Danny into his side.

“Have they-”

“They all have been very accepting and lovely Bruce,” Danny interrupts. “You have good kids. I just feel bad that I have been monopolizing their attention. After all, you are their father even if some of them try to deny it.”

“You are now too,” Bruce says, surprising Danny, “if you want.”

Danny smiles as he answers, “I know. But that’s up to them.”

“I don’t think there’s anyone who can refuse you.”

Danny snorts.

“You are just biased, darling.”

Bruce shrugs, expression content. 

“Guilty as charged.”

Danny laughs as he shakes his head. 

Yeah, they’ll be fine — no matter what others might think about them. (And if he has to kill a Clown for that to happen, he will gladly do so.)

[viviarts-c]

Happy Valentine's! Have a College Mystery Trio Valentine's Day special!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 3.5 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9

Valentine's Day Special

[birrdies]

you awake?

some art for a boat boys au im working on… its hard to describe what exactly it is, but its based on the show ‘WAYNE’ if any of you have seen it.

Joel lost count of the days once they passed D.C. He should’ve kept a book or something—hell, he could’ve found a sharpie and scrawled some tallies on his palm— but it was hard track of time when all you really wanted was to outrun it. But as the sun set, slivers of a dreary dusk streaming in the windows, Joel was trapped in it. But this time, he didn’t mind so much.

Etho’s head was a dead weight on his shoulder. The rumble of the car engine kept lulling the both of them to sleep, but Joel fought. Just in case. Just to count the breaths against his collarbone. Those, he could count. Passing days didn’t matter anymore— this did. Here and now, the road ahead of them, did.

[petiolata]

I want a civilian!Tim fic where he gets together with Kon and *that's* his pathway into vigilantism (he wants to fight alongside his boyfriend. Who's like, "but you're squishy and fragile, plz don't?" and so Tim is like "I'll show you squishy" *bites*).

Anyway in the end Kon is a pushover for his cute civilian human boyfriend and so gives into Tim. Sparing Tim from all the weird toxicity of the Batfam and Batman's bullshit. He gets a superhero persona that's not Robin.

[danganronpa-shipping-galore]

Danganronpa Ship: Ibuki/Hiyoko 🩷💛

Imagine...

Hiyoko likes to put on private traditional Japanese dances for Ibuki. It helps put the usual pressure off of Hiyoko, and also prevents the scenario of Ibuki cheering a little too enthusiastically in front of irritated attendees.

[cabezadeperro]

helloooo 💜 codex

hellooooo!!!

💜 surprise kiss / impulsive kiss (+first kiss shhh)

---

Rex shifts his weight, and the sweaty skin of his back where his tank top ran up unsticks off the plastic with a too-loud, slightly ridiculous noise. At his side, Cody snorts and turns to look at him without moving from his sprawl on the floor. They’re almost close enough to touch, if not quite: if Rex twisted his right ankle that tiny bit, if he stretched his fingertips—but he doesn’t. Rex blinks and looks away, back at the ceiling.

It’s far enough into the night cycle they will really regret it come morning. The work out rooms have been empty for hours now, the wide expanse echoing with the noise of their breathing, with the hum and groan of the Venator’s engines. Rex breathes in, opens his mouth, exhales without saying anything. He should go to bed—he doesn’t want to. His cot in the cramped room he shares with Appo and the others doesn’t sound nearly as tempting as staying where he is, on his back on the harsh, unforgiving floors of the gym, sharing a crackling kind of silence with Cody. 

If he just—reached out. One hand, five fingers, his palm, Cody’s arm. His bare shoulder or the thin fabric of his tank top, his heart beating strong and steady in his chest. Rex clears his throat and doesn’t turn to look at Cody when he listens to him shifting: his ears feel hot. 

I should go to bed.

The words weigh down his tongue: Rex can feel them rolling up his throat, sticking on his palate, sticking to his teeth. I should go to bed: so should you.

But Rex says nothing, and neither does Cody, and isn’t that something. It’s so late it’s almost early, and Rex has two campaigns worth of a sleep debt, and here he is, wanting to reach out and touch, knowing himself wanted in turn.

Cody exhales. Rex blinks again, turns to look at him: the mat is cold and clammy under his cheek. Cody’s frowning, staring at the ceiling. He looks like shit, too thin, patchy stubble on his jaw and his curls too long, dark circles under his eyes. Rex wants him so badly it makes him feel self-conscious, so he looks away, ears so hot they seem to burn, and closes his eyes.

“I sh—”

A whisper of sweaty skin on rubbery mats and then: Cody’s smell, the weight of his attention, his mouth.

send me a prompt!!! (no more purple hearts tho lmao)

[novelconcepts]

💖 for taivan, after tai is jealous at girls in van store

💖 rough kiss / hot and heavy / making out

"You know this is fucked up, right?" Van demands. "This is my place of fucking business, Tai."

"I didn't--"

"Didn't what?" Van raises her eyebrows. "Dude, you don't work here. You don't live here. You do not get to give the stink-eye to every paying customer who wanders in!"

Taissa grinds her teeth. She's clearly warding something off, clearly believing Van is somehow in the wrong, which: fuck you, dude. Van is a saint. Van is letting her married ex-girlfriend crash on her couch and moon around her shop, feeding her and letting her do pretty much whatever the hell she wants. The least Taissa can do is behave herself.

Instead of whatever she's pulling today, all furrowed brow and death-ray-glare. Christ, every time someone walks in, Taissa pins them with a look that could kill. Just because only Van knows she actually could relieve someone of their grip on this mortal coil doesn't mean it's not making those women uncomfortable as hell.

Women.

Wait.

"Oh," she growls, "no. No way. You're not doing the jealous thing, Taissa, I swear to god!"

"I'm not!" Tai protests, but her eyes are blazing. She looks like she just retook the field after a fistfight, and she's raring to go for round two. Even as Van watches, she takes a step closer, the back room infinitely smaller now that the two of them are sharing it.

"You are," Van insists. "Come on! You don't get to do that to me! To them! You don't get to!"

"I'm not trying to!" Tai snarls back. Her voice is sharp. Her hands form into fists. "I just don't like--I just--"

She falters. Van thinks she'll deflate here, apologize, try to make it all better between them. As if she ever could.

Instead, Taissa lowers her head, mutters something that sounds an awful lot like oh, fuck this, and slams forward like she's been shot out of cannon. She's got Van by the lapels before she knows it, and there isn't even a moment to breathe. Not even a moment to consider wheeling backward, out of her grip. Taissa has her, and the second their lips meet, it's all over.

Goddammit, thinks Van. It's her last thought for a good long while. She disappears into the contact instead, her lips parting under Tai's onslaught, her skin blistering wherever Tai touches down. It's too easy to fold, too easy to give herself over to the rampage of Taissa's kiss. She hasn't been kissed this way in years, maybe not since Tai herself, and god, it's fucking her head around. One minute, Tai's married and worried about her family and worried about her job; the next, she's showering innocent women in jealous distaste and pinning Van to a shelf in her own stock room.

It shouldn't be happening. It is, undeniably, fucked up. Still, she can't find it in herself to pull away when Taissa's tongue delves into her mouth, Taissa's hands rucking at her shirt. She's forgotten how to breathe, forgotten to how hold her own weight; a metal rack is doing most of the work for her as she kisses back, each swift angle like a fresh punch to the face.

It's fucked up, and it's delicious, and Taissa is making noises she hasn't heard since the woods. Hungry sounds. Desperate sounds.

It's fucked up, and it's all she's ever wanted, and Tai still has Van's lip in her mouth when she finally--excruciatingly--pulls away.

"Oh," Tai pants, "fuck. Fuck, I'm--"

"If you say sorry," Van says, "I swear to god, Taissa."

They stand, glaring at one another. Van's mouth is swollen. Taissa's skin burns.

"You can't," Van says coldly, "treat my customers like shit, Tai. If you're sticking around, you have to behave."

My customers, she says.

They both hear the absence in that sentence. What she hasn't said. What she hasn't demanded.

She's almost terrified of what the evening might hold after closing time.

[shycorvid]

Damian being moronsexual and getting a crush on Danny Fenton against his will. Danny does something so fucking idiotic and he goes to Jason and says, “I have taken after my mother. Todd, as the only reasonable man in this family, it is now your duty to put me out of my misery.” And Jason’s all, “you had your chance the first time I shot you.”