they should go on a fishing trip pt.1
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DpxDc AU: Tim as a child was never given a lot of information regarding the scribbling messy handwriting that appeared over night all over his arms- naturally he came to his own conclusions.
Tim Drake was home entirely alone at 9 years old and was about to go out for the night to test his brand new long exposure camera lens when he sees the writing on his arm. It’s not English, like he assumed it was at first, but it was using the alphabet to represent… Tim isn’t bad at math but this formula is complex for his little genius brain.
Looking at his camera, he decides he can spare a moment to look it up, solve it, and get back out into old town Gotham in time for Batman and Robin’s final patrol lap. He does just that, finding the problem to relate to some aerospace engineering and then quickly deduces what laws and theorems need to be applied. He finds a pen, writes down his findings in much neater handwriting onto his arm, and goes out. It’s barely a remarkable night at all. He gets a much more memorable photo of Robin roundhouse kicking a hench person.
Things just continued on that way. Tim would find some complex math, physics or chemistry prompt on his arm (surrounded by various question marks or notes or sad faces)- he’d answer it as best he could and move on with his life. Perhaps his parents were manifesting these pop quizzes? Perhaps his subconscious felt guilty about abandoning his studies for more Bat related pursuits? Tim really didn’t care to think much about it once he became Robin- there was too much on his plate and too many peoples problems for him to fix.
Notably, however, after the attack at the Tower, the pop quiz appeared and Tim wrote back that he wouldn’t be able to find an answer to this one. It was the only time Tim questioned the markings appearance and it was because the next thing that appeared was “Hope you feel better soon.”
… his parents wouldn’t include that on a pop quiz. Cursed then. Tim decided it must be a curse, whatever, he’d deal with the implications later in life.
Tim then has the worst year of his life, hes 15, no longer Robin and the questions from his curse are getting less math oriented and more… philosophical. A lot of mentions of death that, in hindsight helped him actually grieve, and a lot of theories about dark matter and souls. Tim answers back as best he can but he’s drained and his answers aren’t very good in his opinion. He gets minimal feedback.
It all comes to a point that he’s at a family dinner, Bruce is at the head of the table, Jason has promised just to stay for dessert, Damian hasn’t thrown a single insult his way and Steph was laughing at him- when a new theoretical model appears on his arm.
“You’re just as bad as Bruce, Timberly. Hiding a soulmate from all of us, how fucking typical.” Jason points out, while watching Tim scribble back some math with a question mark onto his arm.
“A what? No, this is just a curse. I get pop quizzes every now and then.” Tim bats away Steph who rapidly approaches and began to analyze his arm (the rest of the family isn’t far behind).
“Drake. Explain how you came to this conclusion.” Damian seems more curious than anything, if his lack of insults was anything to go off of.
“Since I was young I’ve had at least weekly math check ins, I never had a parent or anyone else around so I assumed my parents had me cursed to ensure I stayed on top of my studies. Sometimes it’s physics or chemistry, for a while there it was a ton of philosophy and behavioral psychology.” He shrugs his shoulders.
“Master Tim, I believe the lack of adults in your life has led you towards a false conclusion. That is most certainly a soulmate mark. The individual to whom you are responding is undoubtedly your other half.” Alfred attempts to calm the room before explaining to Tim. Tim isnt sure if he believes the butler, though Alfred only very rarely lied, so he grabs the pen once more. He writes his first question back: “Who am I to you?”
The room waits in anticipation and within moments a brand new line appears on Tim’s arm and he is vindicated: “We do math together???”
——
The reason Danny is failing English is because his built in homework helper sucks ass at metaphors and has apparently never read any classic literature. The tutor on his arm is great at puzzles and math tho.
Danny gets a reply back one night that he wasn’t expecting (Who am I to you?) and he mentions it to Jazz. Who goes insane that Danny didn’t even question it and just went with “meh, probably haunted” as his explanation for the phenomenon for all these years.
Apparently, if Jazz was right, he had a soulmate who was uh, super fucking smart. That was an overwhelming thought.
The next day Danny is in crisis mode and writes back “Wait, WHAT AM I TO YOU??? Can I help on your homework??”
Danny gets vindicated when the writing on his arm presents a shit ton of dates and information for an unsolved Gotham cold case. See, Haunted.
———
Eventually between Danny becoming the top candidate for astrophysics at Wayne Enterprises and Tim Drake being outed as having contributed tips to the GCPD that solved cold cases- they meet and realize just how dumb they’ve been.
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Don’t wait up…
colored this panel from @thegunnsara's Back to the Past comic (part 6) :]
the bottom panel was so striking when I first saw it that I just needed to color it heheh
sorry it took a while to finish ><
orig under cut vvvv
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weeee more fantasy au doodles
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Sorry for forcing yall to look at a very indulgent cryptid dragon but anyway um. its an attempt!! I'm so iffy on the colors but urgg. I wanted it to be an approximate mix of Grian's various "lives". I wanna draw dragons!!! So bad!! I love dragons!!!!!!! So much!!!!
Some other lifer dragon concepts/sketches below cut
If people still wanna see me dragonify lifers then sure!! These are just quick ideas I wanted to get on paper
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I've been utterly fascinated by Good (better? nicer?) Chase design by @lizard-color4 from this post and desperately wanted to know more. Who's this man? What's his story? Why is his hand bandaged? Why is his fashion taste is so much better than Original Chase? And why the hell does his hug looks so nice??
so i um, decided to explore his design a little ;D
also bonus+ sorta?? continuation / my take on the after hug because i really craved more of that
bonus++ a silly doodle of my first attempt on his design because why not
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What if Eclipse from AP was a naga? And this took place in the deep jungle of the amazon, where photographer y/n is trying to take pictures of the wildlife?
I'm vibrating at the speed of sound over this ask while also nudging my naga au
Naga Eclipse from AP would have the tail of a Green Anaconda, with an olive green scaly color dotted with black, framed by burning-like flares of orange along the length of his slithery body. He's also decorated with orange-yellow striping on either side of his long, slipper form. His upper half is scaley with a lithe deadliness to his musculature and decorated by frills surrounding his head with brighter orange-yellow colors, almost hypnotic in their gradient hues. One eye is deep emerald green, and one is midnight blue.
Lucky you—you're out on a once-in-a-lifetime expedition to explore a jungle closed off to the public, funded by Fazco, and occupied by two researchers who will be your bunkmates for the next few weeks. You're itching to take photos of the large river, including swamps, marshes and streams, and whatever wildlife is out there.
The few locals you did meet before you left to hike the rest of the way to what would be your new, isolated home warned you of a dangerous snake—a large, mythical beast. You take note of the local folklore. You understand the truth is hidden in there somewhere, and you are well aware of the dangers and diseases you could be met with in such a harsh environment, but you're determined.
It doesn't take long for you to feel eyes watching you when you first venture out by yourself. You take beautiful pictures of freshwater fish, big and beautiful, unlike any you have ever seen. Of course, you have hundreds of snapshots of the local flora, the trees, the floating meadows, the thick vines that drape each branch and hang thickly about the ground. You almost forget that you eerily don't feel alone.
But you swear something moves in the water—the ripples stop as soon as you look. The stillness is suddenly stiff, lifeless. Even the birds have stopped chirping.
You lower your camera and carefully put it away. A trickle of fear slips into your heart. You turn away from the river's edge only to be met by a low hiss and a creature, unlike anything you witnessed in your travels, spooling itself neatly out of the water, blocking your path to the base. An incredible creature with long arms and a great, serpentine tail that seems to stretch for yards and yards. You can hardly breathe in his presence—he's otherworldly with his frills and scales and fangs.
His eyes contain a mesmerizing shine as if staring into a fire as it burns or watching the ocean as it laps up against the beach, drawing your attention, demanding you don't look away. You couldn't anyway. Half-frozen, you struggle to keep from collapsing. He beckons with a sharp talon. He hisses softly for you to come closer, mouse. He wants to see you. You try to beg no without revealing how terribly you tremble. He doesn't let you go. He insists. His eyes flash with an allure. You almost step close when he murmurs that you need to be good.
But then your sense of survival kicks adrenaline into your heart, and you turn to run—
He strikes faster than your eyes can follow. Two loops of his green and orange tail surrounded you in an instant. You're dragged to the ground, your arms pinned under his mass, and the back of your head cradled by his large palm as powerful muscles squeeze you in the slightest—a gentle rebuke for thinking you could get away. You're hyper-aware of the terrifying bulk of muscles as you lie trapped in his coils. One strong twist and your eyes could pop out of your skull, and every bone protecting your heart and lungs would crumble to shards. You gasp. An urge to kick your legs and struggle erupts in your panic; a sinking feeling tells you it would only make things worse.
He coos over you, hissing and humming in an ancient song of the jungle you have no name for. When you whimper, he shushes you and strokes your cheek. He tells you how lovely you'll be. When you talk back to him, somehow finding your tongue amid your horror, you find out his name. Eclipse. He moves you more upright, resting you on his tail so you're not petrified by how vulnerable you feel lying down, but he never loosens his scaly bindings. He hovers over you. You gaze into his stunning frills of yellow-orange and wonder how a being like him came to exist. He studies you as you study him. He grins at how you shiver when he traces your collarbone with a sharp fingertip.
You remind yourself that you can still breathe. He hasn't crushed you—yet—but you don't like how wide his smile is. Sometimes, his jaw stretches a little too long as if dislocating from his skull, ready to devour you. His eyes gleam with a ravenousness as scales twist around you, holding you close enough to smell the slick green water he had been in and deep musk.
He tells you that he'll see you again very soon—away from other humans, lest you bring him a fine gift for a meal. You can only flex your fingers, silently pleading in your heart that he won't unhook his jaw and eat you alive.
Then, he unravels himself from your limbs. But before he lets you go entirely, he leans in close, his serpentine tongue flickering close to your neck and by your hair, tasting the air around you as you muster all your strength to not scream. He inhales deeply, pleased, before he murmurs, "Sweet mouse. You are mine. Say it."
You don't understand, but you echo his command, and when he taps your chin once in what might have been a loving gesture, you force your jelly legs to solidify before you run and run, all the way back to base. You slam the door to your room behind you. You touch your ribs, your arms, still caught in the heavy sensation of his loops as if he were upon you right now.
The stories are true—there is a giant snake in this jungle, and he wants you. You're afraid to discover if Eclipse's intrigue with you is only an exotic way to satisfy his hunger.
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We need to talk about the worst thing about making AUs....
The fact that then when you inevitably think about crossovers you don't want the crossover with the canon you want it with your specific AU. Your brain worms, your circus, but THEN WHAT?
Oh, yeah, to understand this crossover you need to go read this entirely different fic/series? Girl help 😭 you can't do that
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Gearing up for the stat boosts
MDZS Disco Elysium AU Part 3 (Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 4)
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oh yeah.... im making aus now.... florist au but al haitham is a part time employee at the plant nursery tighnari owns and kaveh keeps running into him
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[WIP? Sketch?? Idk concept]
[Swap AU]
"it's you... !"
That moment when the girl who patched you up and saved you from dying in an alley (that you promptly ran away from) show up at one of your very first concerts
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In love with the idea of captain marvel being Billy's imaginary friend. Like, it'd be so easy. Early depictions had them as almost fully separate people sometimes, like one soul with two minds, rather than just two filters like we mostly see now.
But imagine a Billy down on his luck, hurt and hiding from police and criminals alike, daydreaming the hours away as children do, taking inspiration from all the superheroes rising to fame, making little stories to play out his dreams of saving the world with a generic action doll he found while dumpster diving once. Most of the paint's rubbed off.
Red's his favourite colour, his comfiest jumper is a bright ruby even after all the grime and washes. Gold, too, it's shiny and warmer than silver! A hero cape is a must, big and eye catching! And he can fly, of course, like superman, and in his daydreams, when he's sore and frustrated after a long day's grind, his superhero is smart enough and knows all the right words to get the bullies to stop without resorting to fighting.
His superhero fantasy is one he spends a lot of time on, the first one he goes for when struggling to sleep at night, and he can picture it so clearly. Captain marvel is big and bright and kind, strong enough to lift the boxes for the old lady up the road who's moving all by himself, fast enough to catch Jamie who fell out of the tree on Saturday and broke his leg and couldn't come to class for weeks. He appears at the entrance to alleys when Billy is cornered, he steps up behind to cover for him when he gets caught shoplifting, he sits at the bus stop with him when it's pouring rain and the right bus doesn't seem to be coming.
And then the wizard comes, or rather whisks him away, and like a magician from a fairytale breathes life into his imaginary friend until Billy feels thrice his size and a million times more invincible.
From then on, captain marvel is a real hero, just like Billy is a real boy, and as one they save the whole city, and then the whole world, and get cats down from trees and help Mrs Victoria move the last of her boxes and she gives them a pinch in the cheek and cookies for the road and sometimes it hurts but it's so much better than he imagined.
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I mean, yeah, that's a sea monster capable of wiping out a ship and all, but that's also the same person Eclipse knows would cry over accidentally breaking his cookie jar and then tripping over their own tail on the way out. What are you on abt
Also
don't ever shit talk his little treasure. You fool. You moron.
Anyway, i got into sea monster brainrot, so that's probably what i'll be drawing for a while lmao
Please deal with me
Sea monster/pirate au by @bones-of-a-rabbit
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Clawing at the door for more cowboyau GHOST team . I’m literally addicted to your writing, I hope you have a lovely day/night! :3
Very quick Logan drabble because I have given him no love....
You spot him immediately as someone new in town. It's a small town and everyone knows everyone so you pick him out quick. He's arguing with Murphy over pricing, using big words like: ludicrous, and absolutely insane, and highway robbery. You laugh and finished sorting through the seeds you want. He storms out of the store in a huff, you catch his eye with a smile. His eyes soften, his step slows almost to a stop, and somehow you get the barest twitch of a smile back, before he seems to remember he's upset and turns to finish his stomping. You hardly pay it any mind, and finish your shopping, cracking a joke to Murphy about hot headed interlopers that gets a few dollars knocked off your total.
The next time you see him you're parked by one of the swimming holes, stripped down for a quick dip before the sun gets any higher. Most folks don't care much about private property when it's over 100 degrees out, but when you pop your head up out of the water he's glarin' at you from the back of a horse. Again, something in his face softens when you grin up at him. He swings down off his horse while you make your way to the shore, you've got a towel in your trunk, but that's on the other side of the pond. Logan offers you a hand to help you out of the water, and you do your best to keep your smile when you push your wet hair off your forehead. He does his best at keeping his eyes on your face.
"You're tresspassin'," He tells you. You laugh, and his lips twitch up just slightly.
"Someone's always tresspassin'," You assure him, "Where'm I tresspassin'?"
"Walker ranch," You hum and he holds out his hand, "Logan Walker." You take it, enjoy the firm shake, the callouses on his warm hand.
"Walker," You nod, shake your head and try to dislodge your smile. You remember some girls in town calling it "Can't Walk-er" ranch, giggling over the new studs running it. You can't say you disagree.
"What's so funny," He asks.
"Nothing," You like the way he smiles at you, like he doesn't believe you, "Y'all are new to the area right?"
"Pretty new."
"Well, here's a tip," You brush the water off your arm, "It's nearly a hundred and ten degrees out, you're gonna get a lot of folks jumpin' in that pond. Best just to let 'em." Logan glances past you to the pond, and gives a short nod. He swipes his straw hat from his head and fans himself with it before thinking better of it and settling it on your head. You wonder if he knows what that means, you suppose it doesn't matter, but it sure isn't the heat gettin' to you now.
"You better get goin' then," He tells you, hooking his boot in the stirup and swinging back up onto his horse, "Wouldn't want a pretty thing like you gettin' lost in the crowd."
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