G.D.

gifty 🇨🇳 21 y/old .ೃ࿐ batman | kpop | fandom brainrot video games | art ┊ ˚➶ ｡˚ AO3: @gifteddepresso

[gifteddepresso]

MDZS Fic | Valentine's Day

Characters: Jin Rulan "Jin Ling", Lan Sizhui "Lan Yuan", Wei Wuxian "Wei Ying", Lan Wangji "Lan Zhan"

Fandom: MXTX, MDZS (Mo Dao Zu Shi)

Ao3 link: valentine's day - GiftedDepresso - 魔道祖师 - 墨香铜臭 | Módào Zǔshī - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù [Archive of Our Own]

Word Count: 1,105

CW:// NA !! Summary:

Feeling uneasy from the silence, Jin Ling slowly started retracting his arms. “I know it’s small,” he said hastily. “I-I didn’t think that you would mind. It… it comes from the heart,” he stumbled, refusing to look up at the white robed cultivator. “Something that wasn’t just riches…” he trailed off. He shifted nervously on his feet. This was a bad idea, and if it ever got out, everyone would laugh at the Jin Sect Leader for being a coward.

or…what's it like to spend Valentine's with someone your love? Jin Ling x Lan Yuan fic !

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

First Valentine

“Here!” Jin Ling said, sticking out his arms with a package in hand. Blush crept up his ears as he stared at the floor nervously. Lan Sizhui–the recipient of said package–turned slowly to the golden-clad Jin Sect Leader. A small gift, a little box neatly wrapped in red paper and tied with a golden bow, was outstretched in Jin Ling's hands. Gold and Red. The colors of prosperity, life, fortune, and… love. 

An amused smile danced at the corners of Sizhui’s lips. 

Feeling uneasy from the silence, Jin Ling slowly started retracting his arms. “I know it’s small,” he said hastily. “I-I didn’t think that you would mind. It... it comes from the heart,” he stumbled, refusing to look up at the white robed cultivator. “Something that wasn’t just riches…” he trailed off. He shifted nervously on his feet. This was a bad idea, and if it ever got out, everyone would laugh at the Jin Sect Leader for being a coward. 

“You know what, forget it. Forget I even-” he mumbled, turning to leave with his tail between his legs. Before he could get very far, however, a calloused hand caught his wrist. The hand pulled him forward and straight into the embrace of the young Lan. Startled, the gift slipped through his fingers and onto the floor. Sizhui didn’t seem to mind. Soft grey-yellow eyes peered down at the younger man with a matching smile. A strong arm wrapped around the Jin heir’s waist, pulling him closer. “I love it, A-Ling. Happy Valentine’s Day, my Valentine.” With that, the older man connected his lips to the teasingly named ‘Young Mistress’. 

Golden Valentine

“Sizhui- what are you…?” Jin Ling trailed off as the pair came to a halt. Earlier in the day, Sizhui had taken him on a dreamy date to some fancy restaurant in downtown Gusu and the local arcade. It was their anniversary, after all–they’d started dating on Valentine’s Day three years ago–and it was a well-needed break. After dinner, Sizhui claimed he had a place to show him, but it had to be a mystery. So, Jin Ling entrusted his sight to the Lan. 

Gentle hands moved away from his eyes, and Jin Ling’s breath was immediately taken away.

There, on the floor, was a heart made out of roses. The entire room looked like Yue Lao had caused an explosion, with all the candles, hearts, and decorations scattered about, and then left. 

Jin Ling turned to Sizhui. “I-” he couldn’t help but blink. In the lighting of the room, Sizhui looked even more ethereal and handsome. Like an angel who truly descended from heaven. The young Lan prodigy was dressed in a white suit – because, for whatever reason, the Lan family really adored white colors – and it brought out the dark hair that framed his face. 

He was definitely Jin Ling’s dream. 

Jin Ling shook himself out of his daze. Smiling gently–that stupid smile of his–Sizhui took him by the hand firmly and led him to the center of the decorated room, right into the heart. Jin Ling could feel the blush that had developed on his face spread, and his heart rate sped up to match his current dilemma. 

“A-Ling,” Sizhui said after a moment, reaching out to link both of their hands. Jin Ling swallowed nervously, looking at his boyfriend attentively.

“It’s been three years. Three years that I don’t regret one bit of. From the first time I saw you until now, I'm glad you chose me. You were always there when I needed you, even in your silly way.” Sizhui chuckled. “Every happy or tough moment we shared, I will always share with you.” Sizhui smiled, glowing. “I want to spend the rest of my life with you, because you are so special, and I love you so, so much. So,” Sizhui paused, reaching to his back pocket to pull out a little, square box, wrapped in velvet. 

Jin Ling stopped breathing. 

Tears–cursed tears, he was Jin Sect’s leader for heaven’s sake–welled in his eyes. 

The older man knelt on one knee, holding the box in his hand. “Jin Rulan, will you make me the happiest man alive and marry me?” 

Now, if anyone else asked about this story later, Jin Ling would claim that he accepted the proposal with grace and elegance. However…in reality, Jin Ling was speechless, sobbing his eyes out, and he could feel the heat on his face burn brighter than the damned sun. 

Jin Ling extended his hand, nodding quickly. Of course, he’d marry his dream boyfriend. What kind of idiot would he have to be not to? Sizhui gladly took his hand, slipping the sparkly ring. Visibly, it seemed like a weight had been lifted from the Lan’s shoulders. 

Sizhui chuckled gently. 

“Don’t cry, A-Ling,” he said, brushing tears off the Jin’s cheeks. “Thank you…and, I love you,” he whispered, connecting his lips to the younger man. 

Jin Ling couldn’t help but wrap his arms around Sizhui’s shoulders. They were going to be married. 

He couldn’t wait. 

Of course, all good things had an end.  While he was occupied, Jin Ling didn’t notice the few troublemakers creeping into the room, admiring the cute sight before them. 

A loud, dramatic crying ruined the tender moment. 

“Look at that, Wangji, our beautiful son is getting married,” cried a certain Demonic Cultivator, dramatically throwing himself into his husband's arms. “He’s grown so mature,” Wei Wuxian gasped, flicking away a fake tear. “How will I ever cope?” 

From the other side of the room, Jingyi flipped the light on with a laugh. “Look at that, our Young Mistress is getting swept off her feet, finally!” He teased. 

The newly engaged couple stared at the peanut gallery, their cheeks visibly pink. 

His uncle, the Jiang Sect Leader, Jiang Cheng, stepped up to Jin Ling’s side, giving an approving squeeze on his shoulder, before moving on to pry his brother off his brother-in-law. Lan XiChen trailed in after his lover offered a thumbs-up and a bright, happy smile towards Sizhui, before moving to stand by his younger brother. 

Wei Wuxian scrambled to his feet and waltzed over to the pair. The Demonic Cultivator offered a mischievous shit-eating grin. “So, when, and how are you gonna plan this wedding?” He asked, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. 

Jin Ling narrowed his eyes at his estranged uncle, feeling a familiar coil of annoyance flash through him. There was no doubt that the coming months would be long…and Wei Wuxian is never going to leave them alone again.

[mysterypuppys]

can someone draw this as tim

[atomikats]

yes boss

[gravygranola]

one with his city.

[dictearchive]

[gifteddepresso]

Red Robin Fic | Unseen Pictures on Paper

Characters: Tim Drake | Red Robin, Tamara Fox, Lucius Fox, Bruce Wayne | Batman, Damian Wayne | Robin

Fandom: Batman/Batfamily

Ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/71365486

Word Count: 1,643

CW:// angst, but fluff Summary:

Back then, the subjects of his photographs seemed like myths. To others, they were a man and a boy dressed in costumes so frightening that criminals cowered in fear at their arrival. To Tim, they were his idols —people who had a purpose in the world and protected the people of Gotham. Unlike little Tim, who couldn't even keep his parents home long enough to celebrate his birthday.

or ... little Tim, big Tim, and the escapades of photos in a box. (It's really just him moving out and people finding his photos and him getting clowned on. FLUFF!)

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

“Hey, Tim? I think this might be something you want to keep a hold of,” Tamara Fox (Tam, as she liked to be called...Tim didn’t really want to be yelled at by his secretary), said, holding up an old and battered shoebox towards the young CEO. Tim blinked, staring at the box for a moment before he reached forward to accept the parcel from her. Tam offered him a smile and turned back to pack up whatever she had left to shove in the box she’d been working on. 

Today marked his so-called "Moving Day" that he’d been anticipating for a week. Well, sort of. Tim had scored a better apartment across the street from WE, with a much better view, a short distance to work, and a much better security system. He’d spent all morning and afternoon the day before, cleaning up his old apartment, removing anything that was too ‘bat-grade’ to be left there before his secretary showed up to help. Apparently, her father, Lucius Fox (the man who actually runs WE), had told her that the young CEO was moving across the city. Not that it was an issue, really; ever since Iraq became a thing, Tam had known who he was and who he really worked for. 

Anything and everything ‘bat’-related. 

It’s more than his entire apartment, even before the whole cleaning fiasco looked like Hurricane Katrina had swept through it, except whoever was governing the land was way too broke to actually clean it up. 

Or was too busy. 

Whatever.

Turning his attention back to the box that was now in his hands, Tim set down the remote he’d been fiddling with for the past five minutes to take a look at what was in the box. The old orange box was riddled with stains, scratches, and rips. Sitting down on the floor, Tim flipped the box's cover open and froze. 

Inside, there were piles upon piles of memories taken in instant flashes. Frozen moments to be remembered. Colorful pictures, black and white captures, all piled into the old shoebox. This was the first shoebox he'd ever filled with images taken on lonely nights with a Nikon D3X and an Old Navy sweatshirt he'd bought for these escapades. 

A camera was easier to hide than a hand-embroidered sweater that cost a fortune.

Gotham was never kind to her children. 

Back then, the subjects of his photographs seemed like myths. To others, they were a man and a boy dressed in costumes so frightening that criminals cowered in fear at their arrival. To Tim, they were his idols —people who had a purpose in the world and protected the people of Gotham. Unlike little Tim, who couldn't even keep his parents home long enough to celebrate his birthday. 

"Hey, Batman!" Robin exclaimed excitedly as he swung up to the ledge where his mentor perched. "Did you see that? How I took them down?" Robin punched the air dramatically as he recounted the fight. 

To an untrained eye, Batman's face remained emotionless, but the picture captured by a little boy hidden behind an air conditioner unit in a building away told a different story. It told of a Dark Knight who was unbelievably proud of his Robin. Jason, Tim remembered. It was his first night out, taking up the mantle after Dick Grayson stormed out to Blüdhaven to start his own life. 

Tim snorted softly to himself, setting down the pile of Batman and Robin images and digging deeper into the box. Pictures of Bruce Wayne and Dick Grayson in the family room of the Manor, along with pictures of Stephanie and his friends, both young and old. Years of carefully snapshotted memories. Tim gently flipped through the images before the only photograph left in the box was a slightly old and carefully laminated image. It was of a three-year-old Tim, sitting on the leg of a smiling nine-year-old Dick Grayson. His parents stood to one side, while the Graysons took up to the other. Tim had met Dick Grayson for the first time that day. It was one of the only genuine pictures of him with his parents. Jack's true laugh was captured with Mr. Grayson's grin. His elegant mother's smile was soft and inviting, nothing like the Janet Drake he'd known before she passed.

Tim ached for parents who never chose their son over their archaeological adventures. 

"Aww, you, Dick, and your parents, I assume." Tim tilted his head up to see Tam peering over his head at the photograph in his hand. He grinned. 

"Yeah. It was at the Haly's circus—y'know, that night." 

"Oooh. Well, you two look cute though." 

Tim laughed. "I guess." He pinned Tam with a gaze. "Don't you dare show people these." And by people, he meant his family, though it seems Tam already knew that. Tam sent him a shit-eating grin and mockingly held her hand over her chest.

"I promise the great vigilante and CEO Tim Wayne that I-" she started before dissolving into a laugh when Tim gently punched her on the arm. "Okay, okay, okay. I won't," she promised, offering a hand to help Tim up from the ground. 

"It's getting late. Your night job won't run itself," she said. Tim resisted the urge to roll his eyes. 

"Thanks for the reminder, Ms. Fox. I have the best secretary in the world." 

—

Red Robin was going to murder his secretary. Tamara Fox invited Dick Grayson over to his messy apartment while he was busy running among the rooftops and fighting crime, so Dick could accidentally see his photographs. And now these photographs are literally trending in their group chats. From the family chats to the Justice League. 

Seriously?! 

He was going to kill his secretary. 

"Didn't know you were a talented photographer, Replacement," A gruff voice laced with amusement said through the public line of the comms. Red bit his tongue to keep from lashing out. 

It wasn't Hood's fault, it wasn't- 

"Shut up, Hood-" 

"Hey, Jay, most of these images are of you-" 

Red's face burned. Ohmygod, ohmygod. 

He muted his mic and sniffed indignantly to himself. At least there would be pea—

"I demand to see those images, so that I may burn any of mine." 

Red groaned. How had—where was the big Bat if— oh. 

Red Robin turned on his heel, sending the younger vigilante and his mentor a blank, annoyed stare before turning back around. He could feel the baby Robin drift towards him, and he was going to turn around and snap at him, when a scream shattered through the air. All three vigilantes swiveled like owls in a tree and immediately took off in that direction. 

The two younger heroes leapt straight into the fray. Red snapped open his staff, twirling it experimentally before striking out at the nearest goon. Robin unsheathed his katana and made jeering comments towards his opponents. Batman stayed above, monitoring his birds—knowing both his sons could handle this just fine—and picking off the runners. Red eyed a bigger thug out of the corner of his eye, creeping up behind Robin. He turned on his heels, slamming his staff into the nearest thug, using the momentum to leap up into the air and send a vicious kick towards the man interested in sneaking up on Robin.

Landing on the floor, he watched as Robin whirled around with a scowl on his face. "I can handle myself," he snapped. Red rolled his eyes. 

"You're welcome." He muttered, before leaping back into battle, working with the younger vigilante to dispatch the rest of the goons. This had to be some sort of gang war or a turf battle, and whoever screamed was caught up in it. He scanned the quickly decreasing crowd, spotting three small shadows in the corner of the long back alley. Red moved quickly to make his way towards what he assumed was a huddle of children. He approached them cautiously. Red offered a small smile and crouched down to avoid frightening them more. 

"Hi. I'm Red Robin," he pointed to himself. "My partners Robin and Batman are here too." He waved a hand around slowly. "We'll get you to a safe place, okay?" The three big-eyed children blinked at him, and the one at the front—the bigger and clearly older one, who seemed to shield the two little ones behind her—nodded.

“Okay,” she agreed, turning back towards the little ones and linking hands with them. 

Red smiled as he stood up. “Alrighty, let’s go,” he said, reaching up to let the team know he was escorting people out. Before he turned around, something cold and clearly metal was pressed against the back of his head. Damned gun, he cursed. Some Bat he was, he should’ve noticed this asshole walking up behind him while he was trying to calm terrified kids. He slowly raised his hands in a placating gesture and cleared his throat. 

"So, picking on little kids now, are we? I'd thought by now Hood's policy would've extended all across Gotham," Red prodded. He winced when the gun was pressed harder against his skull. 

"Shut up, Birdbrat. Step away from the little brats and give yourself up, you little-" and then the man was a heap on the floor. Red sighed. He turned around, picking up the gun and emptying the magazine before tossing it to the side. He glanced towards a patch of particularly dark shadows.

"Took you long enough," he said without malice, before he stepped towards the kids and held out his hand once more. "So, how about we go home?" 

—

"Tim?" 

"Yeah?" 

"I have a room, uh, open for you." 

"For... what reason?" 

"Your pictures? And memes. It's in the cave. You can hang them, uh, all over." 

"...Bruce," 

"Yes?" 

"I will find those files where you scanned my photos." 

"Tim!" 

[gifteddepresso]

Genshin Fic | Shattered, Cracked and Protected

Characters: Zhongli, Childe

Fandom: Genshin Impact

Ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50516338

Word Count: 559 CW :// angst Summary:

Breathing out, the man with almost six thousand years of burdens on his shoulders allowed himself to crack. It wasn't the first time the former War god allowed himself to feel the raw emotions of just simply being alive, but after spending a decent amount of time among the humans, as one of them and not as the god to whom they worshiped, it was a  foreign feeling to feel the burn in his chest and the troubled thoughts in his mind. The price of being the Prime Adeptus was the crystal-clear memory of the crimes and horrors he committed in his time as the god of war and the Archon of Liyue.

or..after six thousand years, what more could a god do?

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Breathing out, the man with almost six thousand years of burdens on his shoulders allowed himself to crack. It wasn't the first time the former War god allowed himself to feel the raw emotions of just simply being alive, but after spending a decent amount of time among the humans, as one of them and not as the god to whom they worshiped, it was a foreign feeling to feel the burn in his chest and the troubled thoughts in his mind. The price of being the Prime Adeptus was the crystal-clear memory of the crimes and horrors he committed in his time as the god of war and the Archon of Liyue. Watching the Traveler return to the harbors of Liyue, Zhongli turned on his heels to settle at a tall viewpoint where he could view the city he promised to protect with his own hands. It was the era for the inventive, intelligent, refreshing— humans to control their lands on their accords. The barrier that Zhongli had built up as Morax, the God of War, and Morax, the Geo Archon, was starting to crumble away into the winds. The world no longer sat on his sheer will—but he would never hesitate to lend a hand, should the humans need it—and he was free to feel and breathe.

So he did.

Even though Zhongli had long let go of the events that occurred in his past, the recent confrontation with one of his dearest friends had sent his mind into a reeling theatrical play, where all the good and all the bad that had happened in his life, were played back to him, one by one. The loss of Guizhong, the guidance of the humans, fighting alongside the Yakshas, losing the Yakshas, fighting with and against Retuo Longwang, the marvelous inventions of the humans...and more. He knew it was destiny, and he knew that he couldn't change the past, but Zhongli often wondered in private, what more could he have done to prevent the losses he had?

The former Archon sucked in a breath, settling upon the highest point of Mt. Tianheng, hands placed in his lap, as he gazed down to the brightly lit harbor city. It was gorgeous. Even with flame-produced lights, the city was a bright star with its Jade Chamber visible from all angles. The lantern rite was soon to begin—a long week or two of festivities to bring the already bustling city up another notch. Although Adepti never participated in the festivities, Zhongli knew that a particular Yaksha often enjoyed the floating lanterns. Perhaps this year, he would accompany the young Yaksha in view of the wonderous lights.

Before he could continue his thoughts, a rustle behind him, and a familiar aura of energy approached from behind. Zhongli, amused, let out a soft laugh, nodding his head. "Childe," he greeted in his silky baritone.

The redhead grinned, popping up next to the archon and settling down. "Enjoying the lights?" He prompted. Zhongli laughed again.

"Of course. The flames of the lanterns were once produced.." Zhongli started, turning his head to Childe, who enjoyed listening to the god's long education spiels.

Zhongli may once have been the god Morax, feared and adored by all, but now, he is simply Zhongli, Wangsheng Funeral Parlour's Consultant and an upstanding citizen of Liyue.

[gifteddepresso]

tw: canon character death, aftermath.

Featuring the Song: "You Taught Me How To Love" by Beth Porch.

V E R S I O N 1.

After Damian's death, Bruce picked up the guitar, something he hadn't played in years. Thinking of a song he once heard, he sang it during a night where he misses his youngest son. The song? You Taught Me What Love Is by Beth Porch.

V E R S I O N 2.

It was a curse. After Damian's death, everything looked bleak for a long while after. It never got easier, losing a son. Any of his sons. As Bruce was making his way back to his office, there was a street musician on the street, strumming a guitar, softly singing, "You will never know how much I love you, and though you had to go, but I'm always thinking about you," and Bruce couldn't help but stop and listen, his heart twisting in his chest. Coincidentally, his other sons had been out and about Gotham that day—and upon hearing the song, and seeing their adoptive father standing there staring, they joined him at his side, no fights, no disdain, just assisting a hurting heart inside all of them.

[gifteddepresso]

Tim, running on 2 hours of sleep for the last 72 hours, breaks out of his room in which Jason locked him in: Baby Yoda is technically dyslexic.

Jason, so full of Tim's bullshit: How. HOOOOOW, did you escape?

Tim: Trees are solar powered.

Jason: No. NOO.

Tim: Mario's mustache is a different colour from his hair.

Jason: Replacement, what even makes you like this, like, seriously-

credit: tiktok - @marvin4eva33