#(will admit though there WAS a period where the art was all done and i just kept forgetting to biro it for visibility 😭)

[oatmealdaydreams]

Black Hole Fantasy: I'm pulling in the driveway, I'm turning off the car

Let me know if ya wanna be added on or taken off the general taglist!

Part 1

Inspired By Works: the Shifter Stan AU made by @the-east-art! Check out her stuff, it's super good. Shout out to East!

Pairing: Stan Pines & Ford Pines, gen

Warnings: Homelessness, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse

Summary: After reconciling, Stan answers what he can while Ford asks questions about his shifting abilities. Most of them are expected from his nerdy brother: how certain shifts work, what kind of limits there are, what the deal is with partial shifts, and all that. But then Ford asks about how he found out about his abilities, and…and Stan debates if it’s a good idea telling his brother about his time driving in Mount Tammany.  Stan cannot lie to Ford without him seeing right through it, anyway.

Notes: Wrote a majority of this today (as of posting) because I damn well know a lot of us need some comfort right now.

[Masterlist] | ao3 link

[read under the cut]

Stan expected this. It’s Ford, he’s gonna be all nerdy and ask questions and wanna know more about things he doesn’t understand so he can understand them. He expected this. 

As soon as the question leaves Ford’s mouth, he can tell it probably isn’t the best thing to ask, for whatever reason that may be, because Stan tenses in his seat and his gaze darts away from his brother. 

Stan expected this. It’s Ford, he’s gonna be all nerdy and ask questions and wanna know more about things he doesn’t understand so he can understand them. He expected this. 

The younger twins are due to arrive within the next week or so for another summer. Stan’s surprised their parents are letting back to Gravity Falls—depending on what they told their parents—but he’s not complaining. He grew attached to those chaotic gremlins rather quickly. They’re family, after all. Stan knows he’s got a weak spot for ‘em. Ford gives him shit about it sometimes when he’s being all stubborn and grumpy. It doesn’t come from a place of hypocrisy, though. Ford’s just as bad as Stan is when it comes to their niblings, and he most often admits it.

The time sailing across the vast seas on the Stan O’ War II with Ford helped with remembering things. Stan had remembered most of his life—the important bits, at least. There were still holes in his recollection here and there, still are, but important memories stuck before the rest of it. The fact that he had a twin brother named Stanford, his niblings, most of what he’s done while in Gravity Falls, the entire Portal Situation, and almost everything that has to deal with a certain triangular dream demon. When he has relapses, Ford is always there to help him remember and support him until the memories come back. Childhood can be a bit blurry sometimes. He doesn’t quite remember much about their father, but Ford reassures him that he’s not someone to worry about; Stan trusts Ford. That, and the way Ford’s eyes darken every time he mentions him…well, he can piece things together on his own. Some people aren’t worth remembering. That’s okay. 

One of the periods in his life he struggles to remember much of is the ten years before he arrived in Gravity Falls. Ford doesn’t know much about them, either. When a memory from then resurfaces, it can be…really shitty. Sometimes, when a relapse happens and it involves something from his years being homeless, it gets a lot harder to calm Stan down. Especially since all the memories he’s remembered from then so far have been what his niblings would call ‘unfairly traumatic’. Stan knows by now where he got all his survival skills, at least. 

There are a few memories from when he first got on the streets that aren’t so bad. A few failed attempts at cheap products that got him banned in some places. He vaguely remembers his Stan Vac, the whole not-rash-causing rash-causing bandaids, little things like those. His leaky towels that made stains worse. 

His drive up through Mount Tammany. 

Stan remembers a particular night from that. Getting banned from New Jersey and trying his luck in the next state over. Dark nights where the skies were perfect for stargazing if he’d only let himself stay still for a few minutes. But then again, staying still for even a second on the road is the kinda thing that gets ya killed. So. He can always stargaze now, though. Ford always watched the stars when they got the chance at sea. Maybe they can do that again, now, in a place that doesn’t involve a surprising constant of sea-bound critters out ta get their asses. 

The fucking point: he remembers sitting in his car on the roadside, alone, in the middle of nowhere up on a mountain, getting all teary over his stupid fucking hands. He’d shifted them by accident, and suddenly six fingers replaced five. Missing Ford did that kinda shit, he supposes. Intertwining a five-fingered hand with a six-fingered one nearly broke him. Stan can punch a pterodactyl in its damn face, but he’s weak when it comes to his family. To his brother. 

Stan hopes Ford never finds out about it. He hopes he does find out about it. It’s a complicated mess of things. 

They sit in the chairs in the living room. Some rerun of an earlier Ducktective episode plays at low volume, perfect for background noise. Ford noticeably has a notepad and a blue-inked pen out on his lap. Stan’s counting down the seconds it takes for his brother to ask whatever questions he has on his mind. It only takes about thirty seconds for him to burst. A new record, really. 

“Can I ask you a few questions about your shifting?” Ford’s eyes twinkle like the fucking stars. 

Stan shrugs, genuinely open to it, “Sure, why not.” 

Ford’s excited little smile is plenty of reward for agreeing to this. He knows if he said no, Ford would back off. He’d be a bit disappointed, yeah, but he’d back off. Brothers are like that, y’know. 

His brother readies himself with his pen and all, eagerness leaking off him like some weird mist or something. 

“How can you shift into a mermaid but not into a partial fish shift?”

“It’s not that simple, Poindexter. There’re limits to it.”

The sound of a gliding pen across paper, “I suppose that makes sense. Even with Shifty, he had to learn through visualization before he could shift into something. Perhaps you mimic in a similar fashion,” There's a brief pause as Ford writes another note. “What are the limitations?”

“Well,” Stan grunts out a sigh, “for one, shifts hafta be made of the same base stuff that humans are. Size is another thing. Can’t shift inta somethin’ too small or too large. And, uh, partial shifts are their own thing, not very sustainable. ‘S why I gotta shift into a full merfolk instead ‘a partial fish.”

Ford nods along to his brother, scribbling notes hastily as he talks. There’s a sense of ease that blankets the air between them. Lounging in the tv room, talking, listening, just hanging out with each other. When was the last time they did shit like this? When was the last time it started to feel easy? Maybe it’s because he’s answerin’ the things that he does know about his shifting abilities, but a warmth blossoms in Stan’s chest at the realization of how much it reminds him of being kids. Yappin’ with each other. No arguin’ or nothin’, just…yappin’. It’s nice. 

“Wait, so—” a readjust of Poindexter’s glasses, “Then how come you’ve shifted into partial cat eyes or…ah, the partial bear shift the kids told me about?” 

“It ain’t sustainable, so it doesn’t last long,” Stan tries, though he’s pretty sure he just explained the partial shift thing. “Wouldn’t wanna randomly shift underwater, y’know? And fish shifts are always a bitch to shift in and outta.” 

“Ah, I see. Why are fish—”

“The gills, nerd. Breathing’s all different an’ shit.”

“Oh, well, nevermind then.”

Stan snorts at him, and Ford playfully rolls his eyes. He writes a few more notes down. Stan taps his fingers on the arm of his chair, lightly drumming out a tuneless rhythm. A companionable silence fills the room, and for once, he doesn’t feel the need to replace it with some sort of sound. Probably because he’s already making noise with his tappin’, but still. It’s like a gentle inhale of fresh pine air, drifting around them. It’s calm. It’s as quiet as any ambience can be. It’s peaceful. 

And it only lasts for a few minutes, thankfully, because Stan might’ve started tappin’ with two hands instead of one if it went on for too long. It’s still silence, after all. Nothing good has come with complete silence.

“Given what you’ve explained…how does your shifting work?” and this question has the stars in Ford’s eyes turning into spotlights that gleam onto Stan. 

Stanley clicks, shrugging, “Tch, I don’t know.”

Ford glances up from his notepad, pen stilling, “What?”

“I don’t know how it works, Six.”

“How can you not know how it works? It’s your shifting!”

“I’ve been busy.”

“But you just explained—”

“I know some things, just not everything!”

“How—wait, okay. What were you so busy with that you didn’t explore your shifting more?”

The peaceful air thins. There’s a slight pressure, tension, something that threatens to smother them if they don’t tread this carefully. A choking hazard. 

Stan scoffs, a biting voice, “Jeez, Six, do ya not remember bein’ shoved into a massive fuckin’ portal? And I thought I was the amnesiac.”

He winces as soon as he says it. That was a bit harsher than he intended, honestly. It’s in the past. Sure, there’re still some shit they gotta work out, but now wasn’t the time. Why is he always biting like a wounded feral dog when it comes to shit like that? What is he, a beaten hound? 

Ford goes sheepish, “Oh, right…”

It’s awkward. The tense air simmers like New Mexico’s summer heat. It blazes underneath the first layer of their skin. It fizzles and crackles and makes both of the older twins fidget in their seats. Stan shifts his weight in his chair, and his finger-tappin’ gets quicker. 

Ford clears his throat, “Right, well, I—thank you, Stanley.” 

A small, fond smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. Warmth fills his chest like waves of the ocean, his heart sighing pleasant beats. Ford’s said it a number of times while they were sailing. Some nights, when the beer was cold and the stars were glistening across the vast seas, they figured out talkin’ about shit. Not everything, no, not even some of the things they probably should, but they were still important things they needed to talk about. The portal was one of them. At least, some of it. The parts that Stan remembered in flashes. Memory of its entirety came back before they returned to Gravity Falls, but he digresses. They talked about some shit, and Ford made a point of saying ‘thank you’ a lot more. He still does it. 

The tense air dissipates a significant amount, easing, calming, gentle.

“Yeah, whatever, Poindexter,” Stan waves it off, but he couldn’t wipe the little smile on his face if he tried. “What else ya got, huh?”

Ford shares his own little smile, glancing down briefly at his notes, “Well, let’s see…oh! How did you initially find out about your shifting?”

And the tense air returns with a sharp bite. 

As soon as the question leaves Ford’s mouth, he can tell it probably isn’t the best thing to ask, for whatever reason that may be, because Stan tenses in his seat and his gaze darts away from his brother. 

“Of course, if you don’t remember it,” Ford adds quickly, “Just the earliest you can remember.”

Stan considers what to do here. He’s been given an out. He can just give the easy excuse that he doesn’t remember. It wouldn’t be too far a lie, what, with how fickle his memory from that far back can be. It’s still a lie, though. He does remember that night driving through Mount Tammany. Although it may not be his first experience with his new-found shifting abilities, it is one of the earliest. It would be around the time he first found out, anyway. 

And he’d promised Ford on the boat that he’d try and talk to him. They both did. They made that promise. Stan is tired of breaking things. He won’t break a promise to Ford, especially now that they’re on much better terms. He can’t risk fucking this peace up. It’s too precious now. There’s been too much work and hard nights and shed tears they’ll never comment on. Stan won’t break it for anything. 

He sighs, refusing to face Ford while he does this. 

“It ain’t much. Just a drive through the mountains,” he forewarns, “Nothin’ pretty, nothin’ ugly.” 

Ford’s eyes widen in momentary surprise, as if he’d expected Stan to take the out. He shakes it off, leaning in slightly. An eager listener. A nod to show he understands. 

Alright, we’re fuckin’ doin’ this, Stan thinks. 

A gruffer sigh, “Just been banned from Jersey, I think. A few failed business ventures or whatever, and I was drivin’ up through Mount Tammany.”

Stan ignores whatever Ford’s reaction is to him being banned from their home state. He can’t handle reactions if he’s gonna commit to this. Grabbing a half-drank can of Pitt Cola, givin’ something for his hands to do. Idle hands ain’t gonna do good. He can’t risk havin’ idle hands that reach for violence and excuses. This ain’t the time for it. Not now, not now. 

He swallows, continuing, “It’s dark, probably in the middle of the night. Got used ta drivin’ in late hours so much I don’t think it made a difference.” 

The scene itself starts to unravel in front of his mind’s eye. He can almost see it, hear it, smell it. He keeps talking. 

“Mind kept driftin’, so I had ta pull over. I was wonderin’ about…people. Where they were, how’d they been, all that. Guess they really got to me, heh.” 

Ford doesn’t need to ask who he’s referring to. This one, he knows. He knows what Stan is like when he talks about missing Ford. It’s one ‘a those times. 

“Not even twenty yet, y’know. Still young enough to have a weak stomach about things. I couldn’t keep drivin’ all those curves up in the mountains like that, else I was gonna crash or somethin’. I pull over.”

Stan has to pause for a moment, swallowing again. He tries not to get lost in the memory. He fidgets with the can in his hand, thumbing across its smooth surface. Remind himself where he is. Remember he’s in a chair next to his brother, and not breakin’ at the sight of holding a five-fingered hand and a six-fingered one together. Five plus six is eleven. It’d only been ten years when he saw Ford next after that, but it sure felt like eleven centuries with the way they’d changed. 

No longer lookin’ like each other. Both scared outta their minds and desperate. They’re twins; but back then, they’d been strangers that shared a last name. Not even that. Stan’s used many names throughout the years. He’s worn many faces, too. Droppin’ his shift for the first time in years, just to see his brother, had been a lot more unsettling than he thought it’d be. 

Right, explain’ Mount Tammany. 

Stan shakes his head lightly, ignoring his lingering thoughts of triangular portals. 

“I felt the extra fingers before I saw ‘em,” a hitch of breath besides Stan, but he continues through it, “Six fingers on each hand. The last I recall, I wasn’t the one with hands like that. Turns out I shifted ‘em without thinking.” 

Stan does that sometimes. In moments of heightened emotion—distress, usually—his body decides to kick into gear without askin’ Stan first and shifts itself into whatever it deems necessary to survive the situation. He heard Wendy explain it as a trauma response once. She’d been taking this psychology class to avoid some shitty required course that had a shitty teacher. She’s smart. Gonna do some pretty great shit one day, that kid. Badass enough as it is, really. What highschooler can say they’ve survived the literal apocalypse without referrin’ to a video game? 

“I was already a weak mess at that point,” Stan hesitates, thumbing the can in his hand again. Quiet noises come from Ford’s chair, and he tries to write it off as squeaky furniture. “I, uh…shifted one hand back, and…intertwined them. ‘Bout broke me. I was already fucked-up with drivin’ in the middle of the night, anyway. Y’know, lackin’ sleep and all. That shit.”

Stan cannot look in Ford’s direction after he’s finished. He keeps fiddling with the Pitt can in his hand. His other hand drums a tuneless rhythm on the arm of his chair. He can’t have idle hands. They reach for things. Reaching for Ford might not be a good idea right now. Hey, at least Stan’s actually thinkin’ for once in his damn life. Mabel’s childlike optimism is rubbin’ off ‘a him. 

The quiet noises include a sniffle, and Stan feels something in his chest crack like a statue about to fall off a breaking cliff. Something’s about to break and fall into the churnin’ waters below. The sea can be just as much of a hell as it can be a comfort. Life’s like that, he supposes. Your greatest comfort can be your easiest weak point. 

They sit there, not talking, not looking at each other, hardly making a sound. It’s a fragile air. It’s a thin glass sheet. They’ve had practice on the Stan ‘O War II with learning how to navigate moments like these, but this? This is something else. This is about an earlier memory of being kicked out from home. This is about when Stan learned he was just as anomalous as his brother. This is about one of the first times Stan lost a little hope. This is different. It’s fragile, and Stan’s never been good with fragile things. He breaks what he touches. He doesn’t know how to touch this without cracking the glass like a hammer to a stained glass window. 

Neither of them breathe for a moment. 

How the hell do you navigate a conversation like this? How did it turn into thinly-veiled raw emotion with the steadiness of a paper house? The pivot from your average sibling bickering and stupid smiles to something made of a deck of flimsy cards. A sharp pivot. A sudden pivot. Where did the fragility come from? 

Ford, surprisingly, is the one to break the stained-glass window. 

“Lee,” his voice is thicker, choking, full of hitching breaths and sniffling that becomes all the more noticeable with the uneasy silence. 

Stan can’t help but turn to his brother as soon as that nickname is uttered. There’s a lump in his throat at the sight of Ford’s red-rimmed eyes behind the guise of his blocky glasses. He doesn’t have it in him to swallow it down. 

Okay, they’re doing this. Great. This is fine. 

“Six,” Stan responds, and he sounds just as bad as Ford.

He ignores the prickling droplets in his eyes. 

“You—when did—” words come tumbling out of Ford’s mouth like foreign concepts of another dimension. 

“It’s fine, Poindexter,” an attempt at waving things off, even with how messy their voices are right now, because he cannot stand seeing his brother look so distressed.

“It’s not fine, Stanley.”

“...It’s not.”

“You were banned from Jersey?”

Starting there, okay.

“‘S what happens when yer products are a total sham.” 

“I–yes, I get that, I just…I saw the commercials. Thought you figured it out, and  not…”

“You saw the commercials?”

A pause, “Ah, well, yes. It was the only time I ever saw you.” 

Something about that twists a heart or two. Neither of them can tell if it’s their own or each other’s. It doesn’t matter, really. It twists all the same. 

“You went through Mount Tammany?” Ford continues. 

“Headed towards Pennsylvania. Business opportunities and all that.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah.”

Moses, they’re pushing towards seventy and still this awkward? What are they, pre-teens?

“Can you show me?” Ford is so quiet that Stan almost doesn’t hear him.

“Uh, what?”

“Just—you said you shifted into six fingers, so…” the shrug he gives is a little unlike him, but this entire conversation is a little unlike them. Too many emotions going ‘round in a circus display of some spin-top toy. 

Well…not exactly where Stan thought this conversation would go, but it’s not a bad direction. Just show his brother that he can have six-fingered hands like he does. He’s done it before. It’s not the shift that holds a heavy weight behind it, but it’s the reason Ford’s even asking. He’s not gonna point out that Ford’s already seen him with similar hands before. 

Stan tears a hole in the paper house, and he nods. 

Ford watches with a gaze of…something. Careful curiosity is in there somewhere. Along with whatever else is racin’ through his damn head. Lots of things today, huh?

Stan doesn’t need to concentrate as much as he usually does with partial shifts. This one is something he’s practiced and done so often that it’s instinctual. In fact, he glances down and notices one of his hands already has six fingers. He shifts the other to match. Ford stares. He fidgets with his own six-fingered hands. They twitch like they wanna reach out. Stan feels that echo in his knuckles, his joints, the bones of his wrists and hands and even in his sockets. 

Stan slowly reaches out first. 

Ford spares a darting glance at his face, and he meets him halfway. 

They hold hands. 

The very much not-there-at-all tears glide down Stan’s face. Ford’s sniffling again as his breath hitches again. Quiet sounds flitter around the room. Little sounds. Sounds they won’t admit to making because that means admitting to crying over holding hands, and they sure as hell ain’t gonna do that. Doing that means facing the truth of how heavy it feels. Holding hands with your brother isn’t supposed to be heavy. He’s seen Mabel and Dipper hold each other’s hands, and they certainly don’t get weepy over it. Not that Stan would dare to make fun outta them if they did, no, he rather shift in and out of bein’ a fish a million times before he even thinks about doin’ such a thing. 

Ford squeezes, and Stan squeezes back. 

A deck of flimsy cards topples over and scatters across the floor in a whirlwind of sad old men and old wounds. 

Little birds keep close together for winter. 

A sparrow holds his brother’s hand, and it brings more comfort than he’d thought possible. Maybe the scared teen that drove through Mount Tammany heals a little. Maybe the lost kid that cried over his hands while stranded alone in his car starts to smile again. 

A small, teary smile tugs at the corner of Stan’s mouth.

Taglist: @lost-in-thought-20 @thegoldenduckie @not-sure-what-im-feeling

[ace-the-fox]

Hcs of Mpreg latter (howdy’s brother) of Mpreg beeya (howdy’s brother in law and seeya husband)

@boomerroomer

Hi!!! Sorry, FINALLY getting to these. Thought I'd stick them together because they both involve the same character in some way lol.

I couldn't find all that much on them bar from Tumblr, and I also haven't actually been following Welcome Home in AGES lmao, but I have some notes and some art to make up for it :D

(Cba to find my banner but, as always, ⚠️SFW INTERACTION ONLY⚠️)

He looks grumpy, but he's excited I promise :)

Latter Pillar

He's just busy coming up with a sophisticated, poetic baby name lol

From what I can tell, he seems a bit... left out in the family. He hopes starting a new one will make him feel less lonely :)

He's hoping for a girl, but it doesn't really matter <3

Beeya and Seeya

(Pretty sure they canonically have twins lol)

Seeya gets big baby brain lol. For the last few months, she spends it doing the nursery, buying baby clothes, thinking up names.

Beeya's happy too, ofc, but twin pregnancy is draining and sometimes it is a bit... much

She rubs his sore back in return, so it's not all bad lol

[artdcnaldson]

ok so the thing is, at this point in time, art is so mean and cruel to reader, like hes hot and sexy, but mean. and he absolutely prioritizes his own pleasure far above hers. so i was thinking a little thought, im 100% convinced that art would pinch readers nose closed while fucking her face... :) probably after she said something extra bratty, or flirted with one of the guys from the tennis team. basically hes sick of her bullshit and wants her to suffer the consequences. whilst either or maybe alternating between, holding her head down on his cock, and smacking her cheeks. all whilst calling her a little slut :(((

i luv him, i need him

-🐞

Ohhhhh agree <3

We got a little of it in the vignette where Art fucks her throat at her house and pinches her nose closed (pre-breakup) but I knowwww he would’ve done it before.

He sees you talking with one of his teammates (a sophomore named Ryan) at a party after he told you to stop fucking hovering around him. He knew it was to get back at him, the way you smiled and put a hand on his arm while you laughed at his jokes. Ryan wasn’t that funny. Ryan wasn’t funny period.

But yeah </3 he has to tug you into a spare bedroom, push you to your knees, and sink his cock into your mouth. You moan around him, lashes fluttering as your eyes grow all wet and slick with tears. He pops your cheek and you whine.

“You looked so fucking trashy throwing yourself at the team. You know people talked about it in the locker room, right? About how desperate you were. I’m teaching you a lesson. This is how guys treat sluts,” Art moans. Your tongue laves at the underside of his cock. He doesn’t know how you know to do that— you must’ve been whoring yourself around. It pisses him off just to think about. He thrusts deeper, holds your head down on him until your throat constricts and you gag.

You’re panting when he pulls you off, lips drooly and strung with spit. You look up at him, suck on his tip, swirl your tongue around the head like you would a fucking lollipop. It makes him crazy. You do that to him. “You’re such a— fuck- god- that fucking mouth— a fucking whore.”

You nod, press a sweet kiss to his tip. “I wanted you to notice me,” you admit. “You only notice me when I’m with other boys. You’re jealous.”

His jaw ticks. That was the wrong fucking thing to say. He grabs the back of your head, bottoms out until his dick is buried in the warmth of your throat. It’s hard for you, he knows, but you must’ve been practicing, or something, because he finds less resistance than he thought there would be. “I’m not fucking jealous,” he says, breathy and fucked-out just from your mouth.

You look up at him, and there’s a sort of knowing in your gaze, an understanding. He can’t say anything to convince you otherwise. He is jealous, you know it, he wants you so bad, you just have to convince him more.

It pisses him off. He pulls out of your mouth, lets you take a few deep inhales, and then he’s thrusting back into your mouth, holding your nose closed so you stop fucking thinking it’s a reward for being such an easy slut. He fucks into your mouth, all hot and wet and suctioning around him. You’re whining, all muffled and drooly. Small little hands pushing against his thighs as you claw for air.

Jesus, that shouldn’t get him hard. He’s a better person than that, he’s not Patrick.

But you’re looking up at him with half-lidded eyes, crying out even though your words are muffled by his cock down your throat. He pulls off, lets you take a heaving breath, and buries himself back inside that perfect fucking mouth of yours.

He doesn’t cum in your mouth, even though he wants to. You’d probably like it if he did. He pulls out, leaves you panting and gasping beneath him as he glazes that pretty face of yours with his cum.

He grabs his phone, snaps a picture before you can react. Your eyes widen in surprise and you stand up, scrambling to take it from him. “I could fucking send this around, let everyone know how easy you are,” he threatens.

“Art, stop—“ you whine. “Delete that.”

He laughs at the sight, of you jumping for the phone he’s holding above your head, lips swollen, face painted with thick ropes of his cum. He could tell you to fucking roll over and you would. He grins. “I’m not going to, because I’m a good person. Because Patrick would fucking kill me if he found out you were getting run through by the tennis team.”

“So what’s the point?” You ask, as you grab one of his shirts and wipe your face off, grimacing at the sticky smear on your skin.

Art just shrugs, settles on his bed. “Maybe I just like seeing you be the one to squirm for once.” He rolls his eyes, pats your cheek and nods for the door. “I’ll see you at the party Shawn’s hosting, right?”

Confusion flickers across your expression but you nod. “Yeah, uh, if you think I should—“ He nods and you smile, all pretty and hopeful. “Okay, yeah. I’ll see you then.”

You’re practically skipping on the way back to your dorm.

WE’RE BACK WITH STANFORD ERA PATRICK’S SISTER AU AND EVERYONE CLAPPED!!!!!!

Angst is fun but i missed the mess i missed the drama. I hve to return to my roots (being crazy)

[year2000electronics]

HIII I'm immediately obsessed w your Just Say Yes au like GRHRGGRH I'm gnawing on this foreverr. as a sweater twins enjoyer though it's UGHH. angst <3 . but angst </3

even when mabel and dipper eventually reconcile (because I'm getting the feeling they will, at least someday) could mabel and ford ever reconcile? I'd imagine she blames him more than she blames dipper for the whole ordeal, and with stan inadvertently kinda making it worse (not to mention bill just. being bill.)

UGH and he'd probably still be too stubborn to admit or apologize even to his niece (I say this w love I promise). god save ford from the wrath of an arts and crafts girlie. the multiverse couldn't prepare him for her.

this is a tough question, and one i have been GNAWING on. ive been working on a full plot for just say yes beyond just the initial premise (there's a lot of stuff i have to consider! i'm even trying to consider whether there even should be an eventual weirdmageddon or not) so its like, i dont know the ending to it all yet, but i know that i want like. a happy ending but REALISTICALLY happy, yknow? so its not all kittens and rainbows but i think dipper and mabel are definitely gonna make up and theres gonna be the chance to heal. the chance is so important.

but that still leaves the question of the stans, and by extension, the stans' now-splintered relationship with their "opposite" pines kids. its tempting to say mabel never want to talk to ford again, right? he came into their lives, punched their grunkle in the face, made everything awkward and stressful for the entire time he was there, and by the end of the summer, took her brother away and then was part of the reason he became a paranoid shut-in.

but i think it eats at her that they have something in common that nobody else currently alive can say they have.

a friendship with bill.

it's not JUST that bill is some master manipulator, its more about what he represents for both ford and mabel. both of them were approached by bill during a period in their life where they felt more lonely than they ever had before (especially in the wake of a rift between them and their twin) and bill purposely used that against them. how can they explain to people that they confided in bill, and they ignored the signs? how can they explain why on earth they would trust a DEMON? who could sympathize with the twins who sold the world?

i think thats what could be the key to mending the relationship between all four of them. ford being the one to reach out to mabel after everything's done, after she either helps billie bring about weirdmageddon or ALMOST bring it about depending on what i decide. i think for ford, whos been slowly realizing that he is hurting the people he loves, and has been forced to reckon with that because unlike fiddleford and stan, he's living with dipper and seeing him slowly grow into a reflection of his own negative traits. and he realizes that him and mabel separating was In Large Parts His Fault.

the fact that ford would reach out to mabel and try to extend the olive branch during the period of her life where she probably feels the most like a pariah, more alone than even before billie, to say "sometimes we do selfish things. but that doesnt make us irredeemable" is a sort of atonement for both her and himself, and also a way for him to admit that yes, he did hurt people

[coquettemouse]

Maybe

Leo reached for the pepper sauce but it was just out of reach. He glanced over at Georgina, who was busy poking at her mashed potatoes.

"Georgina, pass the pepper sauce," Leo asked casually, already expecting she might make him work for it.

Georgina gave him a long look, then huffed dramatically. "No."

Leo blinked, leaning back. "What do you mean, 'no'?"

She sighed heavily, as if this task would take every ounce of her energy, and shoved a spoonful of food into her mouth. "Get it yourself," she mumbled through her bite.

Leo raised an eyebrow. "You serious right now?"

Before Georgina could respond, Emmie’s voice cut through the air, firm and final. “You two—enough.”

“She's just keeping you on your toes," Jo added with a grin, spearing a piece of bread from the basket in front of her. "Speaking of keeping on your toes, remember that time we went grocery shopping, Em?”

Emmie gave her a knowing glance, one eyebrow raised. “Oh, don’t tell me you’re bringing up the cart incident again?”

Leo perked up, curious. “Cart incident?”

Jo leaned forward, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Oh, it’s a good one. So, we’re loading up the car, right? I’ve got like ten bags in each hand—showing off, you know—when I see this runaway cart heading straight for Emmie. And of course, I leap into action.”

Emmie snorted. “More like you tripped into action.”

Jo grinned, unfazed. “Well, yeah, the oranges didn’t exactly help. But I still stopped the cart... with my face."

Jason’s smile widened. "Let me guess—Emmie saved you?"

“She did. Quick reflexes,” Jo admitted, tapping her temple. "A true hero."

Georgina, now fully invested, giggled into her plate, and Leo tilt his head, giving a smile that made Jason think about that weird cat from that weird movie with the weird girl. “Guess the Waystation’s been full of action even before all the demigods started dropping by.”

“Oh, you have no idea,” Emmie said dryly, but affectionate. “You should ask her about the time she ‘fixed’ the roof.”

Jo let out a loud laugh. “You never let me live that one down, do you?”

Emmie smirked, nudging Jo’s arm gently. “That’s because I saved you from falling through it. Twice.”

Jason leaned back in his chair, contentedly listening to the flow to them. It was comforting. He catches Leo’s eye, the two exchanging an amused look as Georgina finally, with a sigh of defeat, slid the pepper sauce toward Leo.

“About time,” Leo teased, ruffling her hair.

Georgina roll her eyes and give him a look, one he gladly responded with a smirk.

"Fixing..." Jo hummed, glancing at Jason from across the table. "You’re done with all your temple stuff, right, boy?"

Jason nodded slowly. "Yeah."

Jo smiled, clearly curious. "So, what are you planning to do once you’re done studying?"

Jason paused, his fork halfway to his mouth. The question hung in the air. It wasn’t that he hadn’t thought about it—he had, endlessly—but the answer was still hazy. He didn’t know where he belonged, or what exactly he was supposed to be. He liked art, but everything around him was far more complicated. He finally spoke, almost as though the words were foreign to his tongue. "They’re planning to make me a Pontifex Maximus."

The title rolled off his lips with a kind of uncertainty. Emmie’s brow furrowed slightly, her gaze sharp and inquisitive. "Do you want to be one?"

Jason hesitated again, the air growing still. "I..." He trailed off, the truth weighing heavy in his chest. It wasn’t that he hadn’t considered it—he had. His life was filled with doubts, but always with a period, choices someone else took for him. You can't get an answer if you've never been allowed to ask a question.

If a bird lives in a cage, the his world is that cage. If the bird lives on any street, his world becomes the street. Jason was a bird who just learned there is a corner on the border of his world.

"I don’t know," he admitted, the confusion settling over him like a shadow. "Not really."

Emmie studied him carefully, her face still but firm. "Is that your only chance to be Pontifex Maximus?"

Jo cleared her throat, leaning forward slightly. "Jason, they plan on making you a Pontifex Maximus," she repeated his words carefully, tilting her head to the side. "They," she emphasized, gesturing with her hands, "not you."

Jason shifted in his seat, feeling the weight of her words. "It’s a good chance," he rambled, his voice unsure. "It’s a good position. I can take care of people... of the city."

"You can do that in other ways," Emmie said, raising an eyebrow. "We’re helping people here."

Jason felt his words catch in his throat. Emmie was right. They are helping people. They are giving lost demigods a home, a place to belong, people who had no one else.

As he struggled with what to say next, Georgina kicked her feet under the table, completely absorbed in her meal. Between bites, she piped up in that straightforward way only a 7-year-old could. "You could help mommas."

Leo glanced at her, then at his moms, giving them a knowing look, raise brows and tilted up chin.

"Leo’s already suggested that," Jo added, nodding with a grin. "Smart kid."

Jason turned to Leo, catching his eye. He met his gaze but didn’t smile—there was no need. The offer was genuine, no strings attached, but it made Jason feel even more out of place, like a puzzle piece from the wrong box.

"Thanks for the offer," Jason began, his voice quiet, "but no need. I don’t want to be a bother."

Emmie scoffed, her tone dry but caring. "We don’t need to. We want to." She gave him a firm look. "You teenagers are all the same, huh? Always thinking you’re in the way." She clicked her tongue, shaking her head. "You wouldn’t be a nuisance."

Jason swallowed, unsure of how to respond, the warmth of their words battling the insecurities in his chest. Maybe, just maybe, there was more than one way to find his "where".

"Sorry, bro, but you're stupid if you don’t think you're part of the family," Leo said, raising his brows but flashing Jason a playful smile. "Of our home."

Jason couldn’t help it—Leo's words made him smile, a warmth settling in his chest. Leo noticed, and his grin widened, soft and genuine. "That’s cool," Jason murmur, nodding slightly, like everything the son of Hephaestus said was the most right and certain thing in the world.

Jo’s eyes darted between them, a small smirk playing at the corners of her mouth before she broke into laughter, shaking her head. Emmie, always a little more reserved, let out a low chuckle, while Georgina, watching the whole thing unfold, frowned, confused by all the adults grinning at each other.

"What’s so funny?" Georgina asked, her tiny face scrunched up as if she had just missed the punchline.

"Nothing, sweetie," Emmie replied, reaching over to brush a strand of hair from Georgina's face, her smile still lingering. "Boys being boys."

[zlebooks]

𓂃 ayato + who’s a good boy?

ayato learns that maybe he shouldn’t mess with you the next time you’re taking a stroll… or anytime for that matter.

warning: idk if the last parts of the fic are considered as sexual innuendos 😭

ayato grew up in a gated neighborhood— that probably already says a lot about him and his tax bracket.

his father, a director at one of the top hospitals in the country and his mother, a well known art gallery curator, made sure ayato grew up comfortably. he had the best tutors to help him remain on the top of his class, a world class nanny who knows hand to hand combat if it ever comes to the worst scenarios, and a whole staff of his own that will help him with literally anything.

to say ayato never worked a day in his life would be unjust and offensive. however, he does admit that he is more privileged compared to others.

one of the many privileges he had growing up was he barely had to follow any orders. usually, he would have the option to disregard it or at least postpone doing it for an extended period of time. however, he had learned to never pass it on to anyone else; the moment he tried to pass the responsibility on to his sister, ayato earned himself a flick to the forehead from his father.

(it is a common knowledge in the kamisato residence that ayaka has always been their father's favorite while ayato had always been their mother's most precious little thing.)

that's why ayato notices almost immediately that you had the tendency to order him around.

it wasn't anything degrading, of course. it was more like a simple request that can be put in better words. and the kamisato heir doesn't mind at all— even though he grew up with almost no one bossing him around, he still follows you wholeheartedly.

but there are days where ayato becomes more mischievous than usual— he blames it on the childhood that he never got to fully live as he was part of high society— and he thinks it's a great day to stir some slight trouble.

"ayato? come here." you say, flicking your wrist towards you, inviting your boyfriend to walk with you.

your boyfriend puts on a commendable act. he pretends to think for a moment— with matching lean-on-one-hip and chin-caressing.

"no."

this causes you to raise an eyebrow, your eyes dripping with suspicion. "why? do you want to go somewhere else?"

ayato gives you an affirmative answer and you puff your cheeks out. "you should have told me earlier," you say as you feel guilty for not intentionally dragging him around.

this almost makes your boyfriend cave— almost. but he decides that he isn't done with you yet.

"where do you want to go?" you ask sweetly, your face contorting into someone who's sorry.

he hums for a moment, acting as if he were thinking again.

"i don't know."

the moment he tells you that, every remorse in your bones vanishes within a second.

"you're not being cute right now."

ayato shrugs.

"okay, seriously. what do you want?"

"i want to go somewhere else."

"where?"

"i don't know."

ayato almost snorts when he looks at you about to pull your hair out. for a moment, he feels sorry for trying to pull this prank. but then the red little guy sitting on his left shoulder reminds him that seeing you so out of your element is the best thing that might have happened to him. (aside from you saying yes when he asked you out)

"why are you being like this?" you groan.

"because it's always you who is ordering me around."

you gasp. "is that how i come off?"

"you're always like 'come here', 'go over there', and 'follow me'. it's like you're talking to a dog instead of your boyfriend."

your expression softens, and another pang of guilt hits ayato on the chest. this makes him feel even worse; he even starts to contemplate if he should tell you it's all a joke.

“well, i’m extremely sorry if that’s how i seemed like. i swear that i don't have any intentions to make you feel like you’re any less.” you try your best to apologise sincerely, but when you caught ayato’s lips quirking up a bit, you suddenly realise what was up.

kamisato ayato has a lot of talents— there is no room for any arguments. he had a gift for writing the most poetic stories, he’s able to charm anyone everytime he sings, and whenever he picks up a new sport to play, nine out of ten times he excels at them. but most importantly, the talent he is proudest of was his innate ability to act.

ayato has his arms crossed, shoulders tensed and furrowed eyebrows; everything points out to him being mildly hurt and offended. to everyone, you two look like lovers in between the process of a quarrel, already on the way to resolve the problem.

but then he blinks. twice.

you catch your boyfriend blinking once, and then immediately followed by another. you also notice the sides of his lips lifting a little— these were the tell signs that he’s just messing around. trying to rouse up any type of reaction from you.

you scoff to yourself, two could play this game.

“besides, it’s not my fault that you sometimes behave like a dog.” ayato winces at this, and you think if you went too far.

but you decide to take it up a notch; you take a huge step towards ayato, almost closing the gap between the two of you. if you had moved any closer, your chest would be touching his, and his lips would hover temptingly on yours.

“you turn into this soft, pliant, obedient pup…” you whisper into his ears and you have to hold back your laughter as you feel him shudder against you, “… one might say you’re being submissive.”

as soon as you see ayato gulp, you immediately take a step back before snorting. “you’re just like taroumaru.”

this was enough to feel like a splash of cold water on ayato’s face. he knew that he had been utterly defeated.

just a moment ago, it was obvious that he had the upper hand (which was unfair because you had no idea what was going on), but with your wit and quick thinking, you suddenly flipped the table under his nose.

the kamisato heir shrugs. he supposes there’s another bullet to add on the long list of reasons why he loves you.

you turn your heels away from the man, suddenly picking up your pace before sending him a glance. “will you come along?” you ask expectantly.

ayato is woken up from his trance, jogging to where you are and finally slowing down to match your phase. your boyfriend hums, maybe you were right when you told him that he was an obedient little dog.

please do not repost or translate without my permission . reblogs are greatly appreciated

[disillusioneddanny]

Family Week Day 1. Family || Discovery

For all the things my hands have held, the best by far is you If I could fly then I would know  What life looks like from up above and down below I'd keep you safe, I'd keep you dry  Don't be afraid, Cecilia, I'm the satellite And you're the sky

Damian Wayne sighed as he set his phone down and looked at the painting in front of him. He smield to himself, the likeness between the photo he had taken of Daniel and the painting were uncanny. It had taken him weeks now to get his boyfriend to agree to let him paint a picture of him in his ghost form but now that he had gotten the permission, well all the pleading had been worth it. 

The painting of Danny floating up into a tree surrounded by flowers and a bright smile on his face would be a vision that Damian would cherish for the rest of his existence. 

He and Danny had been dating for just a little over six months now and every day so far had been perfect if Damian was going to say so himself. The two had managed to balance one another perfectly. Danny was all fun and adventure whereas Damian was more organized and practical. He managed to keep Danny from failing all of his classes at Gotham University and in return, Danny helped him live a little. 

They had met in Damian’s art class. Danny was a current English student at Gotham University whereas Damian was an art student, so they would have never really crossed paths. Except Danny had apparently needed some extra money that semester and had taken a job as a model for Damian’s art class. It had been a semester of torture where Danny would shamelessly flirt with him as he stripped down to his birthday suit to pose in front of the class. It was as though he could tell that Damian found the idiot attractive and did everything he could to make the poor vigilante blush like a bumbling virgin. 

At the end of each class period, though, Danny would approach Damian and talk and laugh with him. They had found themselves building a friendship together. They would get lunch every Thursday between classes. Damian would walk Danny back to his dorm most nights as his art class ran from seven in the evening until nine and as a good and noble vigilante that Damian was, he used that as an excuse to walk Danny to his dorm each night. 

And after the final class of their fall semester, Danny had come up to Damian and shyly asked him to go out with him on a real date. Damian had become absolutely smitten at that point. They had gone to get dinner in Bludhaven so that Damian’s meddling siblings wouldn’t catch them. As much as he loved his family, Danny was not something he was quite yet ready to share with his family.  He wanted to hold Danny tight to his chest and keep him away from the insanity that was the Wayne family. 

It was after their third date that Danny had started behaving strange and nervous with Damian and it was during their weekly lunch date that had been moved to Mondays for their Spring semester that Danny had admitted that he needed to share a secret with Damian. 

That night Damian had been dragged to Danny’s tiny two bedroom apartment in the Bowery at the beginning of their Spring semester and had learned Danny’s secret status as a halfa. He had been half dead for six years at that point and had decided that if he and Damian were going to go any further in their relationship then he had to be honest about it. 

Damian had taken that as his chance to share his own secret with Danny. He had done the thing his family had told him to never do and told the civilian that really wasn’t a civilian if Damian thought about it, that he was Robin, the vigilante. Danny had whined relentlessly that it was just his luck that he, a former vigilante would somehow find himself dating a vigilante now that he was an adult. 

Damian had just chuckled and kissed Danny’s whines away, feeling light and at ease knowing that at least his beloved would understand what it meant to be a hero. Danny had been amazing about it, too. He had accepted that Damian would have late nights, that there would be days where he was sore and unable to do much. He would just have Damian come to his apartment and dote on him. He would create ice packs to chill Damian’s sore muscles, he would hold him tight on nights where Damian had failed to save someone and gave Damian the love and attention he needed and desired. 

He hadn’t realized just how emotionally constipated his family was until he had met Danny. Until he had learned about cuddle times and had gotten to experience the joys of dancing in the hallways to Andrew McMahon, Danny’s favorite singer when his songs would come on the radio that Danny had playing at all hours of the day. It was with Danny that he had finally learned that crying was okay, that he could cry when he was frustrated, that bottling things up could lead to his downfall. Danny had taught him what it was like to be human, something Damian would have never expected from someone who was barely human himself. 

It was with Danny that Damian had learned just what love was. That it wasn’t this fragile, delicate thing that you had to constantly protect. At least not with Danny. Danny’s love was fierce and strong. His love was what kept Damian’s nightmares at bay at night. Danny was the one who Damina found himself going to when he needed comfort, when he needed someone to just listen to his problems without trying to solve all of them for him. Danny was everything that Damian needed in a partner and he couldn’t have been more thankful to find him.

He had been what Danny needed too, from what Danny had told him. In the time that they had known one another he had learned quite a bit about Danny. How he had never gotten the stability he needed growing up. How he had never felt like he could rely on anyone in his family, not even his sister. He loved Jazz but even their relationship had grown distant with her sister constantly making Danny feel inferior or like he didn’t know as much as she did. His parents had been so obsessed with their inventions that they hadn’t even noticed their son had died for four years. According to Danny they hadn’t even noticed when he started transitioning to a man. They had to be told he was trans eventually because Jazz was losing her mind over the fact that the two just didn’t notice.

It wasn’t until Danny had packed up to move to Gotham for college that they had even learned about him being Phantom. And their relationship had just gotten even worse from there. He got Christmas cards and birthday cards, and a call every so often but that was the extent of their relationship. Jazz called to check up on him every so often but from what it sounded like they weren’t the best phone calls between the two of them. 

But it was okay, Damian was here for him. He provided Danny with the stability and comfort that he needed. He was here to be the rock when Danny needed to crumble and not be strong. He provided Danny with the things he had grown up without, just like Danny did for him.

Their relationship wasn’t perfect, no far from it! They were still just two twenty year olds in their third year of college trying to navigate the world. Danny worked a lot at his job at the Gotham University library where he was a writing tutor plus his second job at the coffee shop. Unlike Damian he didn’t have family to pay for college and had managed to secure enough scholarships to cover what his government aid wouldn’t. But he still had to pay for his apartment, something he had desperately wanted after being unable to shift to his Phantom form at his dorm room for so long. It didn’t help that Danny vehemently refused to allow Damian to pay for anything for him, citing that he had no desire to be a sugar baby.

Between classes, Danny’s two jobs, and Damian’s job as Robin, the two were unable to spend nearly as much time together as Damian wanted and it had caused issues in the past. But that was fine, they were always able to move past that. 

They loved one another and love would get them through just about anything.

Damian wiped his hands on his rag as he looked around. He was currently in Danny’s apartment, waiting for the other to get back from his job at the coffee shop so that they could leave for dinner. It had happened about a month ago when Danny gave Damian a key to his apartment, citing that he wanted to give Damian a place to escape from his family when he needed. Which was appreciated. 

Damian loved his family and he thoroughly enjoyed living at the manor where he had nothing to worry about but the older he got he needed more space. And Danny’s apartment provided him with that space, and if there were a few drawers that were emptied so that Damian could store his things there? Well no one needed to know about it aside from him and Danny. 

The doorbell rang, sounding throughout the room, causing Damian to frown as he set his paint rag down and started out of the bedroom Danny used as his study room/office and made his way to the door, grabbing one of his birdarangs just to be on the safe side. Danny hadn’t said anything to him about expecting guests. 

He hadn’t said anything about anyone coming over, no packages, nothing of the sort. Damian looked through the peephole and his frown deepened when he found his mother standing on the otherside with what looked like a baby carrier in her hands. 

He swung the door open and frowned. “Mother, what are you doing here?”

She grinned and stepped into the house, pushing past Damian as she did so. 

“Oh Habibi! It has been so long since I’ve seen your precious face,” she crooned, setting the carrier down to throw her arms out and hug Damian. The former assassin simply took a step back and gave his mother a look. 

“What are you doing here?” He asked, crossing his arms over his chest, giving her a clear view of his weapon. 

She sighed and picked up the carrier once more. “I learned you were in a relationship with another man! I have brought you a gift to celebrate!” She said, thrusting the carrier into Damian’s hands. “I know that men cannot have children with other men, so I made you a child! One that is a clone of both you and Mr. Fenton.”

“Mother! You cannot just make us a child,” he hissed just as Danny walked through the door and looked between the two. Talia turned to look at Danny and grinned. 

“And you are the young man that my son is so smitten with!” she exclaimed. Damian sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. His mother had been doing everything she could to get back into Damian’s good graces the last few years and her displays of affection were steadily growing more and more over the top but this took the cake. To make him and Danny a baby to care for?

They had only been dating for six months! Had only known one another for a year! They weren’t ready for a child, not yet anyway! 

“Babe? What’s going on? Why do you have a baby?” Danny asked slowly, looking between Talia, Damian, and the baby carrier. 

“My mother thought that as our six month anniversary we were ready to raise a child together. She assumed that as we were both men, we would be unable to procreate and too matters into her own hands.”

Danny stared at him for a moment, and Damian could tell that his mind was doing mental gymnastics. “But I’m-”

“Yes, I know Daniel. But mother did not and she decided to be meddling,” he said, glaring at his mother.

“What are you talking about?” Talia asked, looking between the two. “You are both men, how else would you be able to get a child with that in the way?”

“Do not worry about that mother, just know that it was not necessary,” Damian hissed before Danny let out a curse. 

“This is the second time a fruit loop made a clone of me!” he whined, coming over to take the baby carrier from Damian. He carried the baby out of the room, leaving both Damian and his mother to stare behind him in confusion. Daniel had never told him he had been cloned before? How did he forget to mention such an important piece of information? 

… 

Danny and Damian soon found themselves staring at a sleeping little girl. She looked to be roughly three months old by Damian’s calculations, he held his intertwined hands at his mouth as he looked over the little girl. 

“She has your nose,” Danny said softly, pushing the visor back on the carrier so that they could better look at her. 

“She has your mouth,” Damian murmured, unable to look away from the precious little girl in front of him. She had only been in Danny’s apartment for an hour and already Damian was in love with her.

“How are we going to raise a baby?” Danny asked with a sigh, running his fingers through his hair. 

“We will coparent, of course,” Damian said with a scoff. 

“No offense baby, but you still haven’t even told your family about me. What are they going to do when you come home with a whole ass baby?”

“What if,” Damian started, his heart speeding up just a bit as he prepared to ask the question he had been wanting to ask Danny for the last two months. “What if I just moved in with you and we raised her together here? You have that second bedroom, we can clear it out and turn it into a nursery. I can pay half of the utilities and rent, then you will be able to quit your job at the coffee shop. Our class schedules are already opposite from one anothers with your classes in the morning and mine in the evening,” Damian said. 

“Yeah but you do that so you can sleep in after patrol,” Danny pointed out. 

Damian shrugged his shoulders. “I have gone years with running on minimal hours of sleep. I will survive while we complete the last year and a half of our studies. We start classes in a few weeks, we have some time to get started on a routine with her and we will go from there.”

“And if there is any overlap in our schedules?”

“Other students bring their children with them to class all the time, we can do the same,” Damian said simply. “We can do this, Danny. If anyone can do this, it’s us.”

Danny nodded and looked at the baby. “I know you said your mother was part of an assassin cult, but I didn’t realize that meant she knew how to make clones. Also, how did she get my DNA?”

“She’s an assassin, I do not know,” Damian said and shrugged his shoulders. “And yes, mother has a tendency to make clones of me, usually they are sent with the mission to kill me. This is the first time she has create a clone of me that is simply meant to be my child.”

“Oh cool! I had a clone made of me by my godfather to kill me! She’s like my cousin now, she’s travelling the Infinite Realms at the moment. I haven’t seen her in years!” Danny said with a grin. 

Damian let out a soft chuckle as he leaned over and rested his head on Danny’s shoulder. “I love you, you goofball.”

Danny laughed and kissed the top of Damian’s head. “I love you too,” he said softly. “You’re going to have to tell your family that you’re moving out of the house you know.”

“I know and they are going to have far too many questions that I am not interested in answering,” he huffed out. 

His boyfriend simply snickered again and kissed the top of Damian’s head once more before resting his cheek upon it. 

“She looks like a Damiana,” he joked. Damian crinkled his nose. 

“Absolutely not. Our daughter needs a more sophisticated name. My grandmother’s name was Martha.”

“That’s na old lady’s name, we’re not naming our baby Martha,” Danny said, taking Damian’s hand and winding their fingers together. “What about Hannah?”

“No, doesn’t suit her. What about Dahlia? It is a flower and –”

“Reminds me of the black dahlia and a little too close to your mother’s name. Which, I don’t know if I should be mad at her for cloning me without my consent, or thank her because now I have an adorable baby that I have no clue how to raise. Oh my ancients, Dami, we’re going to have to buy parenting books! Both of us were raised with terrible parents! Talia is an assassin who raised her own baby to be one, Bruce is an emotional consitpated vigilante who allowed all of his children to become vigilantes before the age of fourteen! My parents weren’t that bad but they were neglectful as shit and I ended up being raised by my sister instead! Neither of us know how to be a parent.”

“We can get parenting books, not to worry,” Damian laughed. “What about Cecilia? After that song you like?”

Danny let out a hum. “I like it, Cecilia Grace, maybe?” He asked. “Cecilia Grace Fenton Wayne. What a fuckin’ mouthful.”

Damian chuckled. “I like it, Cecilia Grace,” he whispered before Danny shrugged him off of his shoulder and leaned forward. Damian watched as Danny unclasped the buckles and pulled the sleeping girl out of the seat and cradled her close to his chest. A soft purr escaped from Danny, making Damian smile at the little display of his ghost side. 

“Hi Cecilia, I’m your daddy,” Danny whispered, running a hand over the head full of black curls. “And this is your-”

“Your papa,” Damian decided, not wanting his child to grow up with the same rules he did. She would never call either of them father, she needed to call them something more comforting, more familial and less stiff and proper. 

Danny glanced over at him, a soft red painted his cheeks. “She’s perfect, Dami,” he whispered, running his hand over her hair once more. “We have so much to figure out.”

“And we will, we will figure all of this out together,” Damian said, wrapping his arm around his boyfriend’s waist and resting his chin on Danny’s shoulder so that he could look down at the little girl, at his daughter. He couldn’t believe this was happening, but here they were with a small baby between them and the very beginning stages of building their own little family. 

Now he just needed to figure out hwo he was going to announce to his family that he was abruptly moving out of the manor to move in with his boyfriend and daughter without arising suspicion from his family. This wasn’t how he was planning on doing this. 

He thought he would get to tell his family he was in a relationship, bring Danny over for dinner and let them get to meet him that way. Maybe they would date for a few more months before Damian finally got the guts to ask Danny if he could move in, and then the two would look for a new apartment when Danny’s lease was up. 

Of course, things did not always happen the way someone expected them to. They rarely did go according to plan in Damian’s life, at least. But at least this instance, it ended with a perfect little gift. 

@dpxdc-familyweek

Like what you read? Follow the links to the next parts!

Part 2

Part 3

[eventinelysplayground]

The Green Eyed Monster

Kinktober Day 30: Jealous Sex | Window/Balcony

Pairing: Theo x Female Reader

This fic has a bit of Halloween thrown into it. Originally it was becoming way too long so I had to shorten it down and it's still over 2k. I may write this from Theo's pov later just to do a bit more flushed out version idk though. Theo takes you home from a ball early and although you miss out on the fun there you get to have a different type of fun at home. NSFW so minors do not interact. WC approx 2106.

“I have to say this is quite the party isn't it?”

“Cedric! Good evening and yes it is, Comte really goes all out.”

Cedric gives you a friendly smile and you smile back.

“I take it you're dressed as a vampiress tonight?”

“Haha yes I am, I thought it would be a fun change of pace. You're a Roman senator?”

“ I am! Is Theo dressed as…Sherlock Holmes? I didn't know he was a fan.”

Cedric inclined his wine glass towards Theo who was busy talking with some potential clients or maybe investors and you turned your head to look at him. You had to admit he looked good in the outfit but the headache it caused when Arthur saw him was almost not worth it.

“Ya well, just don't let the flirty priest near him.”

Cedric gave you the most confused look and you coughed before changing the subject. The two of you talked for a bit and then the music changed. Theo was still engaged with the gentleman and you let out a soft sigh, you had already danced with several of the residents while waiting for Theo but his conversations just seemed never ending.

“Since Theo seems occupied, would you do me the honor?”

You take Cedric's offered hand and began to dance. You talked about the ball, art, Theo and most interestingly a very cute looking cat girl that Cedric had his eye on, he'd already danced with her once and was hoping to save their second one for the end of the night. The dance came to an end all too quickly and Cedric led you back to the edge of the dancefloor where you were met by Arthur.

“I dare say that really is quite the dress luv.”

You rolled your eyes as Arthur raked his across your figure. Yes the dress was a bit low cut and had a thigh high slit but it was Halloween after all when else could you dress like this and not be given a lecture, especially in this time period.

“How about a dance? Though I'd also take a tumble in the sheets.”

“If you keep saying stuff like that while dressed like a priest you're going to burst into flames, assuming Theo doesn't get to you first.”

“Just a dance it is then.”

Leaving no room for argument Arthur took your hand and led you to the dance floor. As you began to move in time with the music Arthur's hand began to travel lower than was socially acceptable even for a couple let alone the two of you.

“What are you doing?”

“Just having a bit of fun luv.”

You glared at Arthur and he moved his hand back up your back but then he pulled you closer to him.

“How about a little bite instead then?”

You were so surprised by his words that you couldn't speak but you didn't have to.

“That's enough you perverted priest.”

“Theo old boy, would love to chat but I'm in the middle of a dance.”

“Not any more you aren't.”

Theo moved Arthur aside taking his spot and danced the two of you away from him.

“Thank you for-”

“As soon as this dance is done we're going home hondje.”

“Oh…okay Theo.”

You were disappointed, even if you weren't getting to spend a lot of time with Theo tonight you were still having a lot of fun. True to his word as soon as the song came to an end Theo led you off the floor and towards the door only stopping briefly to let Vincent know the two of you were leaving.

The whole carriage ride back to the mansion Theo was quiet and rigid and you knew he was upset.

“I'm sure Arthur was just joking Theo.”

Theo let out a huff but said nothing as he continued to stare out the window leaving you to sit there with your own thoughts. When you got to the mansion he helped you out of the carriage and quickly began walking away. Clearly he was still very upset and in mood to talk, surely he knew Arthur only did it to get a rise out of him? As you stood there thinking to yourself Theo abruptly turned around.

“Come on Hondje.”

You jumped slightly at the somewhat harsh tone in his voice before shaking your head.

“Coming Theo.”

You had to jog a bit to catch up to him but you finally did when he stopped to hold the door open. Once you were inside and the door was shut he grabbed you by the wrist and led you up the stairs not saying a word but the look on his face told you that he wasn't okay. As the two of you reached the top of the staircase he stopped and turned to face you lifting up your chin with his free hand. His sea blue eyes had a storm of emotions rolling inside them and you swallowed hard.

“Theo?”

“Good, you still look alert enough.”

Theo let go of you chin and began walking down the hallway, his one hand still wrapped firmly around your wrist.

“Alert enough for what?”

You had reached his bedroom and he ushered you inside before shutting and locking the door behind you. That done Theo let go of your wrist and wrapped his arm around your waist pulling you flush against him.

“Alert enough for more training, you clearly need it.”

“What did I-”

Your words were cut off when Theo's lips crashed against yours in a fierce and demanding kiss. He bit at your lower lip before dragging his tongue along it and you parted your lips. He wasted no time as his tongue quickly slipped into your mouth claiming every inch of it. As your kiss deepened his free hand came to rest on the back of your head keeping you from being able to break the kiss. Just when you thought you'd run out of breath he pulled back then let his lips brush against your ear as he spoke.

“Did you forget who your owner is Hondje?”

“No.”

“Really, it sure seemed like it tonight. Dancing with Broer and the others was one thing but…”

Theo's words trailed off as he brought his face back to yours and the hand on the back of your head lightly gripped your hair.

“Your mine.”

“Of course I-”

Another fierce kiss landed on your lips.

“You belong to me.”

Another kiss.

“I won't have you wagging your tail for other men.”

“I didn't… is this about Arthur? You know he was just trying to rile you up because of the Holmes costume right?”

“Of course I know what that klootzak was doing.”

Another kiss and bite at your lips.

“Then?”

As hard as it was to think while Theo kissed you like this you tried your best to go over the events of the night.

“Still can't figure out what you did?”

You shook your head in defeat, if it wasn't the incident with Arthur then you were out of ideas. Theo's hands released their hold on you and he walked over to the bed grabbing a pillow and tossing it at you.

“On your knees hondje”

You just stood there blinking as Theo walked back over to you.

“Do I also need to teach you your basic commands again?”

“No.”

“Good. Now on your knees.”

You drop the pillow on the ground and kneel on it as you're told and Theo comes over to stand right in front of you and runs a hand through your hair.

“Goed meisje hondje.”

He removes his hand from your hair as you look up into his eyes and he smirks at you. His hands move to his pants undoing them enough so that he can let his hard cock out.

“You can have this while you think about what you did tonight.”

You place a hand on his hip while the other grabs his hard cock and slowly begins to work up and down its length. You know that if you don't want to be here all night you have to carefully think over everything from tonight, Theo wouldn't be making you guess if you didn't have all the information you needed to figure it out. Your hand continues moving up and down his length as you begin sorting through the events of the evening. Every so often you bring your lips to his cock and kiss it and each time you do it twitches slightly. Soon Theo's fingers are back in your hair and he lets out a low growl when you kiss his tip.

“Hondje, zuigen.”

You look up at him to find him looking down at you and you wrap your lips around his tip. Slowly you swirl your tongue over it before taking as much of him as you can into your mouth. As you start moving up and down his cock the tingling sensation between your legs grows and you press your thighs together.

You try to keep thinking back on the night but the way his cock fills your mouth and the way it responds to you is too distracting and soon you've forgotten all about what you're supposed to be doing and just enjoying his cock. You pull it all the way out of your mouth and lap along the sides and top of his tip, cleaning the pre-cum off it. As you lean in to place a kiss on the tip Theo thrusts his hips pushing himself all the way into your mouth and throat. You weren't ready for it and let out a small cough but quickly adjust and begin deepthroating him.

You can feel the wetness between your legs now making you squirm as you rub your thighs together. Theo's hand firmly grips your hair as he sucks in a breath and pulls back from you. Before your confusion has time to take hold he pushed you down on your back on the floor with your dress pushed open at your thigh slit and his hands pulling off your panties.

“Who do you belong to hondje?”

“You Theo.”

Theo's lips close over yours and you wrap your arms around his neck quickly becoming lost in the kiss.

“Who's your master?”

“You are Theo.”

This time Theo trails kisses down your neck as his hand traces along your curves.

“And who do you wag your tail for?”

“Only ever you Theo, wait you said something similar earlier. Did you think I was wagging my tail at somebody else?”

You look into his eyes and everything he had been saying begins to click for you.

“You look more beautiful than usual tonight hondje, then you were smiling and dancing with him-”

“Theo, were you jealous of Cedric?”

Theo doesn't say anything but the look on his face tells you your right and you let out a small giggle.

“It's not funny, hondje.”

You bite at your lips to stop the laughter before bringing a hand down to caress over his cheek.

“Theo I love you, only you. You don't need to feel jealous over anybody, nobody can compare to you.”

You lift your head up and kiss him gently and he kisses you back.

“I know you love me, still…”

Theo kisses along your neck before biting you and slipping his cock inside you at the same time and you let out a gasp. You feel the heat and pleasure spreading through your body as he thrusts deep inside you, filling your insides completely with him.

“I want to show everyone, including you, that you belong to me completely.”

He licks over your bite mark and begins to thrust even faster.

“I can't show these to everyone but that doesn't mean there isn't another way to show them. I don't care how long it takes, I'll prove you're mine.”

Theo bit you again, sinking his fangs even further and between that and the feel of his cock inside you you quickly hit your peak as you cry out his name and your walls tighten around him. It doesn't take long for Theo to follow you and soon you feel his cock twitching as you're filled with his cum.

Normally Theo would move to lay beside you and take you in his arms but tonight he stays where he is while being careful to keep his weight off you. As you begin to fade into unconsciousness he kisses your forehead and you can see the storm in his eyes has subsided. You know his jealousy isn't a good thing but if it keeps ending like this well, the aftermath certainly is.

[youreverydayghost]

Since there's a song for periodical table, can Xavier sing it? Especially the part where it gets faster? Also, since there's math in science, is Xavier Very smart?? Like super smart since he doesn't sleep a lot of times...so he has to compute a lot of times...without even sleeping...Wow, he must be so smart in class before...Even I struggle In math...yet, it seems like he doesn't even struggle to do math...Also, Since he can braid Hairs, Does he try to do other hair styles or does he stick to the classic braid style? Imagine nox having Repunzel's hair style when the kids braided her hair and put flowers on it...That would be cute, and Xavier would be the one to braid him!!❤️❤️❤️

I Love These Two!!!

what would Xavier look like wearing Nox clothes? And then nox wearing Xavier's clothes?

I love your cartoonish art style!!!❤️❤️❤️

Xavier is very intelligent in those areas. He can quickly do complex math in his head and knows how to crunch numbers when it comes to a scientific study. His brain does leave him exhausted at times, but he won't admit it.

He only knows one or two kinds of braids because that's all he would do for his sister Serina, who was particular about how her hair was done. He helped her a lot with it, so it's somewhat like muscle memory, though doing it brings back memories - good and bad. Idk if Nox would ever let Xavier braid his hair, but if he did, then Xavier would be glad to. Would probably need to hold some tears back as he remembers his sister though.

Oh! I did draw that at some point for another ask and forgot to post it! This was done some months ago this year.

[forbidding-souda]

Mod monomi~ how about a headcanon with Mahiru where she has a boyfriend that likes it when she gets stern. Like he'll get giggly and blushy when she gets stern with them

Mahiru Koizumi x Giggly!Male!Reader

Mahiru reminds me of this girl I knew in middle school who would tell me I wasn’t playing the saxophone right (I wasn’t) When she had literally never picked up a saxophone or any other brass instrument lmfaoooo. I was so annoyed at this girl but we were in art club together so we kinda became frienemies and I lent her my sword art online manga and she returned it six months later with the spine halfway ripped. But I mean I can’t get too mad at her because she unknowingly rescued me from the SAO fandom.

-Mod Monomi

♡ Mahiru has high expectations for her boyfriend… Or at least she thinks she does.

♡ She’s the type who always crows at you to keep your dorm clean, get your work done, and take good care of yourself.

♡ Regardless of this, she doesn’t mind dropping everything to help you do them (Or do them for you), giving you a “Jeez, you’re so hopeless.” or a “What would you boys do without us girls?” Even if you were fully willing and capable to do it on your own.

♡ Mahiru would never admit it but she loved taking care of you. Usually, she treats you nicer than most, scolding you in a more teasing way, but she could still crack down on you like you like an annoyed mother. 

♡ She noticed that you seemed to find it funny when she spoke like this. At first, she found it a bit annoying. After a while though she was genuinely upset about it. 

♡ Were you not taking her feelings seriously? Did you not appreciate all she did for you? Did you even care about her? These were all things Mahiru wondered about during this period. She just didn’t know how to communicate that to you. 

♡ Until one day she just kind of… Blew up…

♡ “Hey Y/N! How did you do on your test today?” 

♡ “Oh um… Honestly not too well… I have to make it up…”

♡ “Ugh, what am I gonna do with you?”

♡ “Heheheh! Sorry, Mahiru!” You chuckled, your bad mood disappearing suddenly. Mahiru scoffed. 

♡ “God, you men… You’ll just laugh at anything won’t you!?” You laughed and blushed, pulling her closer to your side. Mahiru grunted again and pushed you away. She shouted at you “Do you even appreciate anything I do at all?! I try so hard for you and you think it’s funny?!” She looked angrier than you had ever seen, unlike all of the other times she ever scolded you. 

♡ After that, you finally had the dreaded conversation. You explained that it wasn’t that you didn’t appreciate everything she did, you just thought she was so cute when she got all strict with you. At first, she was stunned and even happy on the inside. And then her reaction was, well, certainly in character.

♡ “You mean… You like it when I talk to you like that…?” Mahiru didn’t know what to say… Just what to think. “Is that like… Some perverted boy thing?” She asked, scrunching her nose.

♡ After this is explained to her, she doesn’t mind you doing it anymore, since deep down, she’d do anything to see your smile! <3

♡ Love you darlings!!

[hiveworks]

OBELISK - Interview with Ashley McCammon

September 2023

The year is 1908. Evelyn Reuter is dealing with the affairs of her deceased father in her hometown of Manhattan. While she takes solace in the homes of her queer friends, grief presses in around her until one day... the mysterious Margot appears in her life.

Obelisk is a 16+ gothic horror/romance comic about vampires and lesbianism. In celebration of Obelisk's return from hiatus, we asked author Ashley McCammon @draculings for an interview.

What was the spark behind making Obelisk? Why a webcomic versus another style of publishing (print, self pub, etc.)?

My original inspiration for Obelisk was in my frustration with lesbian vampire movies - there are so many of them, and none made for a lesbian audience, let alone involving butch women! I wanted to tell that story, and celebrate that point of view. It’s similar to why I chose to set the comic in 1908 - the early 1900s are something of a transitional period, something not explored often when we aren’t talking WWI or the Titanic. I wanted to tell a story about the radical change happening in just a few, unusual people’s lives, in this transitory period. As for it being a webcomic - as a young artist, I always wanted to make one! It’s such an accessible, experimental way to tell a story, where even the website can be part of the atmosphere. Making a deeply atmospheric, spooky comic, that feels the most fitting.

For new readers, how would you describe your two lead women?

Evelyn is muscling through her day to day when we meet her - she’s putting on a brave face, or one that she hopes exudes confidence - but really feels like she has no idea what she’s doing. (The impostor syndrome is incredibly strong - something I think a lot of people can understand!) She’s been left with this enormous responsibility on top of the grief of losing her dad, and having that job and security is pressed on her as something she should be grateful for. She’s absorbed that idea and really hasn’t taken a moment to breathe - or to consider what she really wants for herself. Margot is quite the opposite - she’s a vampire who lives only for her own desires, a hedonist who’s been floating through existence that way for as long as she can remember. For all of her self indulgence though, she’s never connected much with anyone. She holds herself far above people, only ever showing them this facade of a regular person. It’s very arrogant - but it must also be very lonely! (Not that she has anyone to admit that to… yet ;)   )

What can you tell us about what's lurking for Evelyn in the upcoming chapter?

Evelyn makes a very bold choice at the end of chapter two, one that scares her - putting her own desires first, impulsively, in a way that will change everything and surprise even Margot herself. (Patrons read way ahead and will get to see this very soon, and the time she spends with Margot throughout chapter 3 as a result!)

Obelisk is a traditionally inked piece, with some digital final touches. What guided your decision to make this a traditional comic versus a digital one?

It really wasn’t a choice, to be honest - traditional media is where all my passion for making art lives! Obelisk is drawn and inked traditionally, and finished with Copic markers and the occasional paint pen or colored pencil for that killer red highlight ;)

What are some of the challenges in working this way? What do you find rewarding?

It can be tedious to scan, piece together and clean up my pages, but ultimately I have a fairly streamlined process for it and I don’t mind. I love having a physical final product to look at and hold when I’m done with it, it gives me a sense of accomplishment and connection to my work!

Do you have any tips for other comic artists on resuming a series after an extended hiatus?

Put your health first, and spend time reconnecting to your story before diving back in. It’s easy to feel obligated by the hamster wheel of social media and garnering attention, but your own connection to your work in the long-term is what matters most. Obelisk wouldn’t be the same story if I hadn’t had that downtime, and it’s off better for it!

What are some comics that inspire you? Do you have any reading recommendations for fans of Obelisk?

As far as webcomics go, I’m a big fan of Tiger Tiger, Hemlock, Barbarous, and Heirs of the Veil!

What is the best way for fans of Obelisk to support you?

The very best way is through my Patreon! Patrons have immediate access to the next six months of Obelisk pages (that’s my whole buffer!) as well as tons of behind the scenes work as I develop the next chapter and share work-in-progress shots right from my drawing table.

Obelisk updates Wednesdays and can be read for free at obeliskcomic.com 🩸Be sure to white list the site on your ad blocker and follow @draculings for more info and updates!

[nuttyrabbit]

I’d like to hear what you have to say about IDW.

Alright, let's do this then! I'm not gonna make a big mega review, because frankly I don't think I need to, but I'm just gonna run down some things I like and don't like about the comic just to get it out there, and I'm gonna do it in a "Like-Dislike-Like-Dislike" format just to make things interesting.

With that being said, let's rock and roll

LIKE- The Art

For whatever problems IDW may have, one the most consistently good things about the comic has been its art. Whether it be Archie vets like ABT, Yardley, and Skelly or newcomers like Mauro, Thomas, and Foundraine, IDW has looked consistently fantastic! Some of the action scenes in this comic are some of the best action scenes I've ever seen in any Sonic media (especially anything drawn by ABT. Y'all accuse me of having Ian as my husbando, but the closest thing would be ABT because that man physically CANNOT FUCKING MISS)

Many of the covers especially are some of the best Sonic has ever seen, PERIOD

This cover in particular is something I'd love to have framed

IDW is just a consistently gorgeous comic, even moreso than Archie at its peak with a few exceptions. Also helps that IDW has multiple good inkers and colorists to help the lines pop out, which was an issue I had with Archie

DISLIKE- The Setting

The thing is, I don't inherently dislike the setting of IDW. Setting it past Forces was a good move and setting it in something similar to the games was also a really good call. While I greatly prefer the mix and match setting of the reboot, there is a charm to a more simple, gamelike setting

The problem is that the setting, at least to me, is too simple. At any point it feels like there's maybe 4 locations on the planet: Resistance Base, Eggman Base, Sunset City, and Forest. There are a couple other named locations like White Park, Angel Island and Spiral Hill and that one camping site, but for the most part it feels like the comic ping pongs between these fairly generic locations. As a result, the comic world feels shockingly small in terms of scope and wonder, which is something weird to say about Sonic of all things, a game franchise which has done wonders in taking the hedgehog to various weird, wacky, and cool locales.

It also doesn't help that unlike the games or other comics or even stuff like the OVA and Prime, a lot of the locations don't really have a tangible history or interesting visual motifs, so they just kinda fall flat

I'm not expecting the comic to go full Archie reboot and have a MASSIVE world full of named locations established with DEEPEST LORE from day 1, since that was an extraordinary situation that kinda hurt the comic long term, but having a bit more variety would help the comic loads.

As is, most of the comic's settings just kinda blur together for me to the point where something like Eggperial City just seems like another Eggman base to me. Unfortunately, given what Ian's said about developing the setting (I.e he won't for asinine reasons), I doubt this'll change any time soon, which is a crying shame

LIKE- MOST of the New Characters

While I'm known as an Archie diehard, I'll fully admit that I do like quite a bit of the IDW newcomers. Tangle, Whisper, Starline, Surge, and Kit are characters I've all found to be enjoyable or compelling to some degree. Other characters like Clutch, Rough, and Tumble are also quite enjoyable, though severely underutilized.

IDW has done a pretty solid job (FOR THE MOST PART) of introducing and establishing new characters that add something interesting to the comic at large, and I'm glad to see that some of them have begun making the leap to the games

DISLIKE- Belle

Yeah, I'm not gonna sugarcoat it, I think Belle sucks hard. The concept is fine, but the problem is that A: you know where this shit is going the moment she shows up and B: it takes fucking FOREVER to get there.

Like by the time Belle has her big confrontation with Eggman in issue 50, I'm just rolling my eyes because we knew this was coming and it's just kind of a lame part in an otherwise really cool issue.

Also she just feels like a lesser version of at least 3-4 different characters, including IDW Mecha Sonic. Scrapnik Island is just Belle's arc but actually interesting

Yeah, I just don't think Belle works and is probably the only major dud of the new roster, but man she is a BAD dud. Like the kind that drags down every arc she's in.

Like- Some of the Canon Portrayals

When it comes to portrayals of the canon cast, IDW is a fairly mixed bag, and I think a fair deal of them are abjectly weaker than both game and Archie portrayals (Team Dark being THE most egregious example of this, but Eggman also kinda falls into this)

With that being said, I still do like some of the canon cast in IDW.

Sonic: For all the flak Sonic gets and despite how annoying some of his long-winded speeches can get, I do for the most part like his portrayal. I think having him wrestle with morality, while a bit tedious at times, is interesting, and he still has quite a few moments that make me go "That's my Sonic!" Still inferior to post-SGW Sonic and ESPECIALLY Adventure-era Sonic (who is my eternal GOAT)

Amy: Despite people accusing Amy of being a Sally clone (an accusation which I always find hilarious because it's thrown at ANY female character in a leadership position), she also gets a few pretty solid moments throughout the comic (mainly before and after the Zombot arc). Not as good as Archie Amy but still aight

Silver and Blaze: It's nice to see Silver and Blaze have consistent characterizations and for the latter to not job horrifically. They have good chemistry with each other and the rest of the cast and are a pretty welcome presence, especially since they show up more than once every 600 issues.

The Chaotix: I also like the Chaotix and think they get a lot of really strong moments. Probably one of the few abjectly great parts of the Zombot arc was how they were done

Zavok: Turns out the moment you take Zavok away from the D6 and put him with real characters he actually becomes mildly interesting

The Others: Characters like Cream, Tails, Vanilla, Orbot/Cubot, etc aren't amazing but they're perfectly fine so I'll put them in the good side.

But yeah, I think a few characters get pretty decent characterization with some really strong moments here and there. Though the issue is that none of these portrayals are really the peak of these characters. The most I can say for some of them is that they're good, but there's rarely a moment from most of these examples where I'd point to them and go "This is the perfect way to write this character

DISLIKE- Other Canon Portrayals

Here's what you were probably here for, so let me do this bulletpoint style

Eggman- Isn't as menacing as Archie nor as goofy as his best showings in the games. He has some pretty great moments here and there, with him mulching Starline being a highlight, but he's kinda disappointing overall, especially compared to what's been done before

Knuckles: It's cool they remembered his duty to the Master Emerald and got rid of that dumbass "military leader shit" (which they still kept in Frontiers for some weird fuckin reason. Dunno why they're pushing that). Shame that means he basically sits in the background for most of the comic because there's no Sonic Universe equivalent (which I'll get to). His characterization is okay but MAN compared to all the cool stuff he got to do in the reboot it's very disappointing

Omega- He's still funny, but god it just ain't the same. This is a case where I think the Archie version was just flat out better. He, Amy, and Shadow are the biggest cases of "Archie just did you better"

Shadow: Do I even need to explain this? It's discount Vegeta/Sasuke/Vergil. He's an arrogant prick without anything that made him interesting. Comparing him to Archie is comical since the latter clears so hard it isn't even funny. But fuck, I'd even take Prime Shadow or hell, Boom Shadow over IDW, because at least the former has a reason to be pissy and the latter is at least funny. IDW Shadow is just miserable every fucking time he shows up and I can't tell if it's because the restrictions are that bad or it's because he's just not fun to write, but it sucks. I love Shadow, he's a great character, but every time he shows up I groan. It seems like Sega's gonna be a bit more lax with him, so hopefully that changes things but yeesh

The Deadly Six: It's a shame that Ian couldn't make the Deadly Six outside of Zavok worth a shit, especially since he decided to show them into two separate fucking arcs. I'm not gonna pin my dislike of their portrayal entirely on the comic because I just don't like them, but I am gonna give it shit for using them twice, once in an arc where they didn't belong

The Babylon Rogues: I'm not a fan of the Babylon Rogues, but even I can tell that outside of Jet's sacrifice in the Zombot arc, they've been done exceedingly dirty. That one annual story with Jet and Whisper may be one of the worst stories in IDW Sonic that shit was BAD

Metal Sonic: He's portrayed okay in these comics but my issue is more the shit around him. Sonic trying to redeem him and getting rebuked the first time was interesting stuff. The 2nd time made sense. Beyond that it's gotten obnoxious

LIKE: The Minis

While I dearly miss Sonic Universe and think the comic could use an equivalent (more on that next section), I think the minis we get each year are pretty damn good!

Tangle and Whisper, Bad Guys, Imposter Syndrome, and Scrapnik Island have ranged from good (T&W) to some of the best stuff IDW has put out ever (Scrapnik Island). They're paced well, drawn well, and have really cool shit happen in them. Scrapnik Island in particular was really, really cool and I found Barnes' pacing and character work to be even better than Ian and Evan in places and think he should get a shot at writing some mainline stories.

Also the specials have been pretty good, with the 30th Anniversary Special being extremely pleasant

DISLIKE: Plotting (Or lackthereof)

Now we're getting into some of the nitty gritty.

The big issues with IDW's plots are threefold, so I'll tackle each one individually

Pacing. Evan and Barnes are generally fine with this, but my god Ian Flynn still doesn't know how to pace a story that's more than a couple issues. The Zombot Arc is the absolute worst fucking caes of this (You could cram that entire story into 6 issues and it'd be significantly more effective), but stuff like Eggperial City and even Surge's storyline are also examples of this. So many of the things he plots just drag on and on and repeat themselves ad nauseam in terms of plot beats and even what the characters talk about.

It's an issue that's more readily apparent when reading on a monthly basis as opposed to on a trade basis (where the pacing is less noticeably bad because it's written FOR trades like many modern comics are, much to their detriment), but it's still really bad nevertheless. The only times it hasn't been with Ian are during the minis where, surprise surprise, having to do your story in 4 issues means you gotta actually tighten things up and cut filler.

Again, Evan and Barnes don't seem to have this issue, so a lot of this is on Ian. I like the dude's writing but holy fuck he is still SO bad about this

2. Repetition. I talked about this in a sense in the pacing section by talking about how repetitive Ian's plotting and dialogue can get because of the poor pacing, but I wanna talk about it in a different sense. A lot of IDW's plots are uh, very repetitive, especially as of late. It boils down to "Eggman is doing a thing, go look into it/stop it" a LOT. I know Eggman's the main villain and all but I swear the schtick of "We gotta go check out the Eggman base and fight badniks" has gotten very, very old. Even the Surge and Kit arc ended in "Go to the Eggman base" Arcs like Chao Races and Camping are welcome breaks because they involve the characters doing other shit.

It also ties into my complaints about the setting being small because it often feels like characters just have nothing better to do than go raid Eggman bases and fight Badniks. I know it's an action comic and all but maybe actually utilize some of your smaller villains? Maybe make some new ones? Or maybe even invent some weird new locations for your characters to check out and switch things up? Just an idea.

I keep bringing up that this comic needs a Sonic Universe equivalent and I really believe this because it'd not only give characters like Knuckles, Shadow, and the Chaotix more time to shine, but it'd also give some fantastic diversity in terms of plots. Like while Sonic is fighting Eggman for the billionth time, maybe the Chaotix are doing actual detective work or Knuckles is exploring some ancient ruins and finds a weird new thing he's gotta deal with or an ancient secret he's gotta unlock.

Post reboot Archie benefitted greatly from this since while the main comic was mostly Sonic and co doing shit with Unleashed, Universe was exploring and expanding the world and giving the side characters way cooler shit to bounce off of, making the setting not only feel larger, but also making it feel more varied.

3. Long Term Plans (Or lackthereof)

This one ties a lot into my complaints about setting, but it's strange seeing a Sonic comic do so little in terms of setting up mysteries or future plot threads (that aren't solved IMMEDIATELY AFTER THE CURRENT ARC ENDS), and it also results in a comic that feels more constrained. It gives so little to really talk or speculate about. Maybe it's more a fandom thing for me but I enjoy it when media drops cool background stuff for the viewer to speculate about and make the world like a puzzle the viewer has to piece together. It adds so much to a story and narrative when a viewer can pick up on little plot threads and watch them come together over time.

LIKE Action

This one's simple. IDW has a lot of really well drawn, really interestingly written action bits. Any time there's an action scene, no matter how mundane or banal, it's always gonna look fantastic

Like DAMN. And that's not even an ABT action scene.

DISLIKE: Too Self-Contained

Okay this is a weird complaint but I really don't like that the comic can't explicitly draw on locations and plot elements from not just the games but other side stuff. I get why, but it's also lame because one of the coolest parts of reboot Archie was seeing what insane stuff the comic would pull from and reinvent.

Also it's absolute bullshit they can't bring back the Hooligans and Battle Bird Armada. Like come the fuck on, those are good villains

RAPIDFIRE TIME

Okay so I've been typing this up for way longer than I anticipated so I'm just gonna rapidfire a bunch of other shit I like and dislike

Like: Neo Metal Sonic being the first villains rules and that arc is really fun

Dislike: The Zombot Arc. It's got cool ideas but it goes on for fucking ever and devolves into misery porn pretty hard. Also I don't care if the Zeti were always planned, them being there sucks **IAN**

Like: The fact that Ian isn't the only person writing. I've been saying since Archie that a revolving team of writers would be cool and lo and behold, we've gotten that. Very cool stuff

Dislike: No Off-panels. It's a crime we don't have those because they're funny

Like: The cool outfits the cast wear in Chao Races. I love alt outfits

Dislike: "No alt outfits outside of very special exceptions". See above

Like: IDW actually puts out trades on time.

Dislike: Wispons are overused as FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK. I get randos having them and Whisper specializing in them but I don't think Lanolin needed to have one. It's creative yeah but just give her sound powers

FINAL THOUGHTS

Okay so clearer I had a lot to say about IDW Sonic, and I was deliberately being as general as possible to try and write this up fairly quickly. It's a comic that I find to be decently enjoyable, but also very noticeable flawed and ultimately kinda lacking in some key aspects. I like the comic well enough but it's never clicked with me in the same way other Sonic media like Archie did. I'm hopin in the future that some of these issues I've listed are remedied and that the comic continues to find success.

But yeah, this was fun, albeit exhausting, to write up. So to close this out, I'm gonna give it a numerical ranking

As of now, March 21, 2023, I give IDW Sonic a 6/10 (For context I'd give the reboot a 7.5 overall and the pre-reboot a 6 as well)

[changterhune]

ATTACK OF THE NEW NOVEL!!!

I started a new novel about a week ago and no one is more surprised than I. 

For starters I’ve not been focused on writing of late. Most of my free time has been devoted to art or music. Some writing but only on existing stuff like the mythical 4th issue of Bunnyhead, a horror novel and writing for Igloo Magazine.

The main reason though has been due to my chronic clinical depression. Yes, I’m an artist suffering from depression. Ain’t that a surprise? But seriously I have it and it’s been better and worse depending on the time of day you ask. Heh. But it’s real and for whatever reason I’ve not been too interested  in it frankly. 

The pandemic was what kicked off my dry spell. My father’s death in late 2021 flattened me and I’ve spent the better part of the last two years grieving and recovering. Writing seemed to be the hardest thing to do in that period. Story ideas came and went but few made me feel like they needed to be written down. It was low on the list of priorities. I’ve been more focused on music of late so writing wasn’t where the muse went to either gift me or shit on me depending on how you look at it. 

About two weeks ago though a funny thing happened. I’d been thinking about a character in the horror novel I’m working on (sporadically I admit). And I had a revelation about them after wondering about that age old question one ponders when they write fiction: what makes this guy tick. 

Then all of a sudden it clicked, this thing that I’d been wrestling with suddenly came together. I wrote several thousand words of diary entries for them and they held up under the fierce scrutiny of the morning after. I edited, wrote more, edited again and wrote more. It was a good work and I looked forward to more.

A couple nights later I was watching tv with my wife and out of nowhere this idea hit me. I was surprised because it was later in the night and I was thinking more about sleep than anything else. But the idea stuck in my head. I tossed it over a bit as one does when this happens, wondering if it had legs or not. So I did what I often do and wrote some notes, basic premise and rough outline.

I did go to bed kind of excited because it had been so long since a story. The next morning it seemed good enough to write so I sat down and started typing. First chapter emerged pretty easily considering the writing muscles in the brain hadn’t worked in a while so there was some awakening of those. But the words came and after a bit I’d enough to write out a rough general outline of beginning middle and end then some more for a possible second book. 

Well then…

As I said no one is more surprised than I. The detail will remain with me for a while until it’s time. But writing’s continued apace and will until it’s either done or I’m sick of it. 

Next I’ll say about it you’ll either hear I’ve got a book deal or I’m self-publishing it. 

Until then stay away from the demons unless they’ve got pizza.

[numetaljackdog]

I see your point and I'm really willing to agree with most of what you're saying. I admit that dubstep was a kind of meme answer. But if you're really willing to talk about this, then I have to say I simply disagree.

First of all I'm not trying to objectively present anything here. Art is a form of communication and as such can only be perceived subjectively. There is no objective to criticize art. Period.

That being said, you can absolutely apply hierarchy to this if you really wanted to. For example NSBM is a genre. Nazi Black Metal. Because of the statements of this genre, the participants and the aesthetic. It is inherently worth less than other forms of music. Especially since it tries to put other art down. The music itself does have a merit for its target audience and it does reach its intended purpose.

I fully understand where you're coming from with statements like this, because I used to think like this as well, but especially your focus on genres as set categories instead of loose relatives of similar roots and styles, is unhealthy, I think.

for sure this all gets hugely into subjective-land - i think that's pretty inevitable when discussing the rhetoric around anything. i've got my opinion about how we should talk about art, you've got yours, everyone's got theirs, such is how it goes. and i'll grant you that i probably do place too much value in genres as rigid categories! i just love to sort things, i'll admit it. but at the same time, these trends in the creation of music are still "real," in whatever sense one wants to accept, because the music itself is real and we can observe the patterns that exist within what we label as genres. if we stop accepting genres as something we can engage with as though they were more than just a name and a vague gesture, then the whole conversation has to switch to a much smaller scale where we talk about individual artists or even individual releases and the context around them, which can be valuable in its own right but is a different ballgame than the one we've been playing here. my argument is that we shouldn't criticize art by generalizing one genre to be inherently worse than another because it's reductive and unfair. that's all. the nuance that exists within discussion of any given genre remains untouched by my statement and equally as valuable as it would be under any other framework of viewing these topics.

as for NSBM...... that's tough. certainly it's a repulsive thing that exists, and i want to really stress that fact because of what i'm about to say next. so. FUCK ALL NAZIS FUCK ALL FASCISTS. to be clear. now, if we imagine my framework here, where all genres are, when observed in a vacuum, value-neutral with equal potential to produce good music and bad music, then that must include NSBM, right? and unfortunately, it does. because, as we agree, the evaluation and critical analysis of art is necessarily subjective, regardless of whether it's done on the level of the individual or by consensus. so despite the fact that ideologically NSBM is reprehensible, it is possible for a band in the genre to produce a record with a lot of technical skill and passion, and for someone to evaluate that record (again, subjectively) as being "good," if that person happened to be a shithead. evaluation of NSBM (and in fact the genre's existence in the first place) is not a damnation of the genre, because again the issue here is scale as well as subjectivity. it's instead a damnation of the broader political climate and like, the existence of vice within mankind, which is perhaps the most necessary thing out of any of this stuff to have discussions about, but is decidedly outside of the range of topics that i feel qualified to have a full intelligent conversation about in public.

[rosesradio]

(something i’ve had in my drafts for a while but never posted--a piece of my heart, from me to you ♥)

the letter--a byler drabble

Dear Mike,

They are laying in the clearing in the woods when Mike admits to it. Their fingers barely brushing, barely testing this new sparking chemistry. They were talking about Hawkins, and Lenora, and the move, all of which didn’t matter now that the war was over.

Johnathan put my sketchbook in the moving van, which sucks, because I was hoping to sketch out some landscapes on the road. He says I can sketch in my notebook, but that’s not the same. This is for writing. But for now, I’ll use it to talk to you on my trip. Because I miss you already.

“Do you remember that latter I sent you?” A grin was just starting to form on Will’s face. “I wrote just about everything. What I saw on the road, what music we listened to...it must have been, like, six pages, right?”

El found my old etch-a-sketch and says I can draw on that, but it’s definitely not the same. She seems to be having a fun time with it, though.

It was eight, Will remembered. And it was beyond embarrassing, but Will was never ashamed, not around Mike. Mike always liked hearing what he had to say...and even in periods where he didn’t listen, he always came around.

Mom is nervous about getting the directions wrong, but she’s still insistent on taking us to all these tourist locations on the way. I’m not sure how to feel about the world’s largest ball of yarn, but I know she just wants to make this fun.

“Oh, yeah, must’ve been,” Mike laughed softly. “It was...great...” But there was an odd sort of tone to his voice. The kind he used with his parents, or teachers, or El. The kind when he was lying.

It would be more fun with you here, though.

Will glanced over at him, frowning. “What? Do you not...remember that? You said you kept my art pieces, so I just thought...”

But not to worry. I’ll find my sketchbook and draw some landscapes for you, maybe paint them, too, and it’ll be like you’re right here with me.

“Yeah,” Mike nodded absentmindedly. “I mean, I do, it’s just...” he shrugged, unable to look Will in the eye...until he did. “Will, I was in a really bad place, when you moved.”

With us. El clearly misses you, too.

“Yeah?” Will’s heart started to speed up in his chest, as if he’d done something wrong. “I know...I missed you, too...a lot...”

She says it’s too soon to write to you. But if you’re not right here for me to pester, I want to pester you now, with every thought that pops into my head.

Mike nodded again. “I mean, I was trying to keep things...normal. Or what I thought was normal. And that letter...there was just so much there, and even though you didn’t say it, it was so obvious how you felt. Especially next to El’s letter...I kept comparing them, and I got frustrated, and...” Mike’s voice cracked, his eyes watering. “Will, I burned your letter. All of it.”

I know you’d rather have a letter from her, but if I describe what she’s doing and saying, that’d be good, too, right? And maybe while we’re trapped in the car, I can try to get her to make a DND character, and̷ ̸t̸he̷n̴ ̶w̷e̴ ̷ca̷n̸ ̷

“Oh,” is the first thing Will says, before he even registered it. And it’s so stupid, but Will thought that for the most part that they wouldn’t have problems anymore. They were sort-of dating now, had told the people they wanted to tell, and it was all fine. Yes, it wasn’t perfect, but Will thought that any other problems would take the back seat until the future. He didn’t think there were anymore problems to unpack.

“I’m sorry,” Mike starts, and he lists off a mirid of excuses, but his voice sounds muffled to Will’s ears. He thinks about everything he said, the entire eight-page description of the move, up in smoke. Literally. He can’t even remember all of the probably foolish things he said; he was just giddy thinking about Mike reading everything, liking everything, he had to say.

But he burned it. He tried to keep things normal, so he burned it. Looking at him now, Mike seemed sorry. Will’s eyes stung, threatening tears. He felt his breath, heavy and constricted in his chest.

He burned it. All of Will’s words, as if it didn’t matter. Even if it mattered too much.

“Yeah,” Will nodded. “Yeah--I get it.”

Even if he didn’t get it--even if he didn’t want to. He tortured himself at the thought--how many times did Mike read it before he burned it? How did he burn it? A careful lighter to the corner, letting flames come in slow and small until they welled up too big to take back?

Or an all-consuming bonfire, the whole stack of words and expressions carefully crafted only to be thrown in, sacrificed in one toss?

Will thought about the embers at the bottom, flickering with warm light. How the edges curled up in a graceful, deadly dance. He thought about his heart down there, mingling with the dirt and ashes where it belonged.

And Mike, who he loved and trusted over all others, the one who was sorry, was the one who put him there.

[leonawriter]

Low hanging fruit, but Akira and Akechi?

First impression

Akira: I did my best to go into the game with an open mind (though I'd already read a fic, and been aware of some art and stuff) so I guess my first impression was "quiet with hidden depths." Before I went through the game, I was one of those people who sometimes mistook shuake/akeshu art as soukoku.

Akechi: I already knew about him before going in, so I guess my first impression was "huh, interesting" and then at some point "I will literally fight for him, he's my kind of character" and then "[points at screen] it's HIM" and then "oooh, look at him go!" haha. I did have a (very short) period of being uncertain about him around the interrogation room, but. It was short.

Impression now

Akira: I can honestly say I never expected to like a protagonist as much as I do Akira. I love how I can enjoy most fandom takes on him (even if not all). Gay disaster. Thrillseeker and probably has some kind of Thing For Danger in general. Absolute sweetheart and best big brother figure. Has a Lot of Gender.

Akechi: omg he's just like me for real- no seriously. I see a lot of my own issues in him, just dialled up to eleven. I relate so hard. I love his tenacity and the way he goes "I'm done with letting myself be controlled." Also, he's Gay Disaster #1.

Favorite moment

Akira: It's hard to say? Off the top of my head, probably just "any moment where his actions are independent of the player." Stuff you can't control, because it shows he has a personality all of his own. More specifically... ok yeah I gotta go with "the world is going crazy, his cat is human, and Akira just keeps going "?" "!" "?!" at everything.

Akechi: Part of me wants to say "friends? teammates? to hell with that!" but it's not that. It's gotta actually be his speech/dialogue on 2/2. because the entire thing is saying "I will not allow myself to live a lie, I've done that, I've had it with it, I'm sick of it" and by god he's setting his boundaries. He's got this line in the sand and he's saying he needs his free will more than anything, and it's worth dying for. It just hit hard and is one of the things that's stuck so hard about him.

Idea for a story

HAHAHA. I have written SO MANY for these dumb kids, but I still have more.

Akira: Post-11/20 where he he accidentally keeps admitting he misses Akechi for whatever reasons come up. Which is more about Akira bonding and sharing stuff with his friends and teammates than it is Akechi, who'd mostly not be appearing in the fic.

Akechi: I have written two "Vampire Akechi" fics. I now have vague ideas for Werewolf Akechi. Every so often I also want to write something where he finds Mona when he ran away from home.

Unpopular opinion

Akira: Uh... probably that he'd actually go along with an accomplice route or willingly kill anyone, and that the Yaldy choice bad end isn't something I can easily see him doing. I see a lot of people liking these edgier ideas about him and I'm just... he's one angery boi, sure, and he might have thoughts and wonder about how things could go if he just went with his crush, or continued changing hearts like that, but. I don't think he'd do it.

Akechi: Where do I begin. I don't think either of his Personas are fake or manufactured, whether he got lab tested by Wakaba or not. I also don't think that he's trigger-happy about killing people, either; he sees it as a means to an end, but I don't think he ever wanted to be in this position, and he wound up just... getting used to it. On the flip side I also don't see him going "woe is me for I am a murderer and therefore monster" like... he knew what he was doing and if he was going to be like that in third sem or later then he likely wouldn't have got that far.

Favorite relationship

Akira: Not counting Akechi, I think I like seeing him hang out with Futaba the most? But also Ryuji and Sumire.

Akechi: Not counting Akira, it has to be a tie of Sumire and Futaba. Although I love watching him and Haru in the same room. The sparks flying (and him being intimidated by her) is fun both to read and to write. (I'd like to see more of him and the rest of the PT and also Sae in more than just roleswap/etc AUs too, though.)

Favorite headcanon

Akira: He arrives in Tokyo having internalised the idea from his home town and parents that he's supposed to grow up to get a good job, get married to a girl, have kids. He leaves Tokyo realising "oops I'm gay." (read: my playthrough has me see him as completely unhappy with the girls, only realising too late if he's committed himself. because of the sprites.)

Akechi: In any 'verse other than one that explicitly states he survived through other means (brought back via cognitive reasons like Morgana, or like in one of my recent fics) I like to believe that he survived the engine room through sheer persistence and a Goho-m, but stress and trauma and Call of Chaos (and maybe Maruki) made him forget those details.

Maybe it was low-hanging fruit but I take it anyway, so thanks for the ask~!