#but one day i sat back and realized i didnt like it and adapting stuff to be more like my favorite animated media would be more fun
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a friend asked "why do you draw springtrap like that?" and I flatly responded "so I can grab his tiny waist"
#fnaf#five nights at freddy's#springtrap#my art#yn insert#id consider this a yn thing bc i know some of yall would like it#anyways if anyones actually curious its bc i used to always try drawing things really exact#like when drawing characters based on 3d models i would worry about every detail and just be really clinical about it#but one day i sat back and realized i didnt like it and adapting stuff to be more like my favorite animated media would be more fun#so i started stylizing things in a way that fit with how i liked to draw expressions/poses#and ive kinda settled on this way of drawing him for that bc it *is* fun#and i can grab his tiny waist#laddersarts
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I’m literally in love with the way you write Dick and Jason’s dynamic
Thanks, glad to hear that! Personal preferences aside, I honestly do think it just opens up SO many more potential stories if you go with the idea that they did have a brotherly relationship before Jason died, just they didnt get together around Bruce because Dick was still hoping Bruce would make the first move in reaching out to him. Rather than just stick with the usual assumption that because it wasn’t seen on the page, they had barely any interactions and both resented each other for various reasons.
But those reasons all trace back to Bruce, and if you look at them as two people who are united by the common experience of being fish out of water, adapting to the same environment after coming from DRAMATICALLY different origins, able to connect over that and understand each other in a way nobody else really can because nobody else has ever really had to straddle two worlds as definitively as Dick and Jason had to in their formative years....
Like, the big sticking point for me in the Dick vs Jason: The Grudge theory was just that....at the end of the day, these are two boys who grew up with very few loved ones to start with, or having had to deal with the loss of those loved ones.....
But one way or another......are these two specific characters really ones that make sense as wanting to reject the possibility of more family?
They’re connected through Bruce, like it or not, that was never going to change even from before they ever met......and the idea that Dick Grayson and Jason Todd would each be content to waste literal YEARS never even TRYING to connect with the person who was probably most like him and who by all accounts was already his brother in most ways just by way of Bruce...not even to see if maybe they COULD actually be brothers? To have family beyond just Bruce and Alfred?
Me @ every fic or headcanon that says Dick had Only Child Syndrome and resented Jason because of that: right because Dick Grayson of all people is anti-family. He’s full up with that one guy whose legal guardianship of him has been expired for a couple years and who he hasn’t spoken to since long before then.....nah, why would he want any more or any other family beyond that?
I mean, I absolutely believe that Dick was upset and hurt that Bruce adopted Jason while he’d never even offered to adopt Dick......but Dick has never been one to pass around blame instead of focusing it on its true point of origin. That’s his and Bruce’s issue. And honestly, there are TONS of reasons for Dick to be upset about that, without making it about Jason at all.
There’s literally no reason for Dick to take it out on Jason ever, if his biggest issue or grievance is that like....it feels like Bruce was just so done with Dick and considered him so out of his life, something like “just added a new kid to the family” didn’t seem like relevant information he should pass on to Dick despite the tenseness between them. When you have to find out from the NEWS that your old family unit just full on up and adopted this kid you’ve never heard of before now without even so much as a phone call.....there’s plenty of cause to feel like this is a message that you’re not really considered part of that family unit anymore, so why would you need to know?
Or like, the fact that Bruce didn’t consider hey I’m thinking of adding another kid to my family that consists of me and the kid I’m so afraid to tell I think of him as a son in case he doesn’t feel the same way, that I’ve sat back and let things get this bad between us and fester.....hey maybe before I issue adoption papers for a second kid, I should think about putting in an equivalent effort at fixing things with my first kid first?
Or why not write Bruce thinking: “Hey if I can’t even fix things with the kid I raised for almost a decade and think of as my own no matter how long its been since I talked to him.....what on Earth makes me think I’m qualified to take on a SECOND child?”
Like....Bruce was the one who held all the power and all the options, Dick had no other option but to go along with whatever Bruce decided Bruce was going to do, and neither did Jason really.....so there’s no real reason in my head that should be a point of contention between them or a reason to resent each other instead of just stressing to them the importance of having significant family ties beyond just Bruce because history clearly showed even at that point that best intentions aside, the man is fallible.
If anything, that should have been common ground!
I think there was like, an initial negative reaction of maybe one night, the first time they met and Dick even though he was prepared for it still had to adjust to the reality of actually seeing this stranger he was irrevocably connected to now by both his names, even if neither was technically his anymore....like to actually SEE him standing there in his old role....that’s gonna hit anybody hard.
But he also would have clearly been able to see that whatever else he may have been, this twelve year old Robin was still a kid, and one who hadn’t had a lot of time to ever be a kid in the first place.....which again, instant camaraderie, because boy could Dick relate.....remember, Dick may have had a happy childhood with his parents before they were murdered but it was also a childhood where he WORKED. He loves being an acrobat, he loved being in the show, but that didn’t mean that it wasn’t WORK, that his childhood didn’t consist of training as long and as regularly as any adult acrobat while everyone else his age was running around playing outside and making friends. And after Bruce took Dick in, most of Dick’s free time was spent being Robin, training as Robin, etc?
Which IMO would have made him take one look at this kid in his old costume, literally standing where he had once stood, stepping into his old shoes.....and I think Dick’s real honest reaction once he brushed aside any kneejerk feeling of pain or bitterness the way he brushes aside all the physical pain he feels when out as Nightwing but refuses to let get in the way of him doing what he has to, doing what’s right....
Nah, Dick would have taken one look at this tiny kid full of fire and bravado but also so clearly eager to please, to be praised, to be told he was doing a good job and even without that he was worth something, his life had value, the world was better just because he existed......
And I think Dick’s bitterness about the situation would have crystallized into him resentfully thinking well B’s not exactly the best about dishing out affection or praise so I’m gonna make sure this little Mini-Me standing there in my old colors looking just as young and small as I must have looked then even if I didn’t realize it at the time....I’m gonna make sure I keep him supplied with a steady diet of “Nice Words and Gestures That Kids Should Grow Up Receiving Regularly.”
Dick has always been a firm believer that the best way to make sure something gets done is to do it yourself.
So yeah, I honestly do think that back during those days, Dick and Jason were thick as thieves when their schedules allowed for it, with it being simultaneously painful and unspoken that they had to like....work around Bruce’s presence so Dick could avoid him, but somewhat softened by the challenge and thrill of two brothers scheming to pull one over on the Big Bad Batdad every time the older brother wanted to take the little brother to go somewhere or do something, like, even just to spoil him rotten.
Cuz really....isn’t that a lot more interesting than ‘oh they barely ever even met back then and it wasn’t great, that’s it, the end’? There’s so much you could do with even just that, from them sneaking Jason out for a fun adventure that’s layered with just a hint of poignant angst because of the unspoken why of him needing to sneak out instead of them just saying hey Bruce, we need some bro time, Jason’s hanging with me this weekend? Or you dial up the angst and layer it with lightness or literally anything between those two points on a spectrum.
There’s so much Secret History potential buried back in those years....adventures they had together and never told anyone about, secrets shared between brothers they never shared elsewhere.....maybe Dick opening up to Jason more than he usually likes to, but here felt it might be the only way to get Jason to do the same, with Dick thus offering up some painful tidbit from his past that he never told even Bruce or Alfred for some reason, if he thinks Jason’s upset about something and needs to vent but will just keep insisting he’s fine unless Dick leads by example and goes first.
There’s so much potential for in-jokes that only the two of them know and everyone else is ENDLESSLY curious about, because everyone always forgets that those two have so much history because it was literally kept out of sight, out of mind, so they could keep it free of the friction that was bound to come of adding Bruce to the mix before their father cleared the air with his eldest first.
So its an easy thing to forget about or overlook, especially since it rarely comes up....but everytime it does rear its head via some private joke only they know or a reference to some event back then that everyone else is kept boxed out of having any context for....that’s the kind of stuff that would drive a family of detectives craszy, because they want to know! What’s the joke??
And yet its likely they’d never ask, because as curious as they are to hear about the mysterious missing years of the first two Wayne children, back when there was literally nobody else present to ask for details.....they never can figure out HOW to ask those questions, not when they’re equally aware of the swiftly hidden expressions of pain or bitterness that flash across the two eldests’ faces after each unearthing of some long-buried treasure they shared between them. Unable to ever escape the fact that each of those treasured moments would forever be followed with an inevitable reminder of why there were so few of those moments, in the end.
Why those years ended far earlier than they should have, and why their reunion upon Jason’s return was hindered and complicated by Dick’s obligation to other siblings Jason hurt while dealing with Pit after-effects and the lack of a strong support system while swayed to League sympathies...
And of course, ultimately there’s the reality that after the Adventures of Young Dick and Tiny Jason were cancelled far ahead of schedule, and that several year long intermission....by the time everything else was gotten out of the way, the stars of those earlier adventures were as long gone as the adventures themselves. Dick and Jason were both entirely different people by now.....still containing within each of them enough of who they were back then that those memories are kept carefully protected and hidden away, all the more valuable for how few and sparse they are, and how rarely they’re brought out to look at and enjoy.....
But with those vaults buried deeply enough within who Dick and Jason both are these days, that there’s a lot of blood and loss and pain you have to cut through just to reach that vault. There’s no retrieving anything from it without a cost. A cost worth paying, given that they can’t help themselves from calling back to it every now and then, even though they know the inevitable result is going to be end negative and not end positive. But still high enough to give them pause before actually doing so....holding back sometimes so the toll is doled out sparingly and over time. Getting greedy and trying to bring out/back/up too much too fast is far more daunting than either can afford to pay at the moment.
So that’s how I like to view the two of them and their dynamic back during and because of those early years before Jason’s death. Bittersweet and shaded by nostalgia.....temptation and warning both, in how much they want to revisit it but how much they fear ruining what they’ve managed to cobble together now by bringing the past too much into the light, comparing past and present too clearly and risking that being reminded too strongly of the brothers they were back then, will just make it impossible to ever be content with anything but that bond replicated in full and they’re not sure it can be, are both too afraid too much has happened since then and trying too hard, putting too much pressure on the dynamic they’ve built now could risk shattering the relative fragile bond completely.
Pretty much everything I write with the two of them, unless I specifically state otherwise via context, is generally written through that lens, with me viewing that as the backstory for their dynamic that I’m running with.
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What's in a Name?
"Attachment, Shion, that's what's in a name." / Let this song touch their souls, was Nezumi's plea. Let it carry Tsukiyo's soul to eternal peace, and let it fucking hit Shion like a knee to his gut.
h-hello. i wrote this a few nights ago and put it up on ao3 but i didnt want to cross-post to here until i was finally done messing with it (that is, editing and adding stuff because i never have my fics beta'd before i publish ;( huhu) this is the first fic i'm publishing in almost two years and a half omg
anyway! have a post-no.6 beyond fic!
in which i write about tsukiyo as if he were a main character (he is, in my heart), and about nezumi thinking of going back to no.6 just to friggin kick shion's ass.
(also, i haven't been around for no.6 for like... four years so i don't know if anyone's written about this, but here is my take on it, regardless) lmk what u think hahahue hehe thanks anyway!!
2.7k+ words on ao3 or Keep Reading!
Nezumi could feel it, deep in his bones, even from over a year away from No.6, when Tsukiyo drew his last breath.
It was in the way Cravat and Hamlet made a ruckus running up and down his arms then suddenly, suddenly quieted.
And it was in the way his heart ached. Nezumi had felt something like palpitations but quickly dismissed it; see, it wasn't unusual for his chest to seize up, or for his limbs to lock then limp. It's quite common, has been ever since he took off.
It happened every time he looked up, every time the wind carried his thoughts across the wide expanse of the sky all the way back to No.6, all the way back to Shio—
Tsukiyo.
So his time is up... Nezumi sighed. Tsukiyo had served him well, as a companion, a confidante, a comrade. Nezumi treasured him so, and accepted the pain it brought him to realize what's happened.
He took a deep, serene breath. As he held Cravat and Hamlet close, he cleared his throat roughly and resolved to dedicating a song to Tsukiyo, one that will bring his soul—
Wait.
Wait. Wait. Wait.
Nezumi almost doubled over; the realization came rushing in, hit him faster than he could comprehend it and all that it made him feel.
Tsukiyo wasn't supposed to live this short, was he?
Nezumi pressed a palm onto his forehead as he stumbled, making Hamlet and Cravat startle from their quiet to skitter onto the ground by his feet.
They craned their necks to look up, taking turns blinking at him, pressing their small front feet together, making gestures that confused Nezumi even further.
They aren't even three years old...
Nezumi was well aware, of the average lifespan of the generic rat species: if conditions were right, they'd live up to two years. His mice weren't of the generic species, however.
They were descent from the rats that resided in the Mao forest along with the Forest People, a breed that could live for nearly twice as long, on top of possessing intellect and wisdom.
The three mice had been around by the time No.6 started showing signs of crumbling, by the time Nezumi started plotting to fulfill a debt to someone who was still within those walls.
Many generations of these mice had come and gone, and if Nezumi tried hard enough he could quite successfully trace each of Hamlet's, Cravat's, and Tsukiyo's lineages, from those of them who survived following him and his foster grandmother out of Mao over a decade ago, to those left behind in the library vault when she was murdered and he was captured by No.6, and to those that greeted him right where he left them once he managed to escape...
The families grew smaller by the generation. They were not nearly as resilient as humans— perhaps just not as resilient as Nezumi. Living away from the abundance of the Mao forest to stay in the cesspool West Block was, was taking its toll, and the shift in the environment they chose was proving to be too difficult to adapt to, whether it were gradual or abrupt; there was no way they could cope for much longer. It was just natural selection.
Hamlet, Cravat, and Tsukiyo were the last of them, it seemed. And of the three of them, Tsukiyo was the youngest, hence he should have lived the longest... Right? In the least, he should have lived longer than this.
Nezumi staggered, trying to find some explanation, any explanation for how all of this could happen. But when he thought of ecology and the like, there was only one face, only one person he could think of asking, and he shot the idea down as quickly as it arose. At this point, there was nothing he could do, not about Tsukiyo.
He shuffled his thoughts, trained them back to the black mouse; No.6 as a city may have fallen, but it still had all in all better living conditions than the West Block; Tsukiyo would have had as much space as he wanted, as much exercise and rest, as much food—
Yes, that he lived within a bakery of all places was supposed to suffice and more. He would never starve, his health would never have to suffer, so why—
Another face came to mind, another one he tried to forget. But that he was relatively less concerned about memories with this person made remembering them less tiresome: It was Inukashi.
Something they used to say— it seemed so long ago— about their dogs and how they know their master through and through. Dogs are naturally inclined to feel for their masters without hesitation, without bias, without fear. They tied themselves to their master's motivations, inhibitions, and emotions, without fail. Compassion brought forth by understanding this gave Inukashi strength in facing each and every day in a place like West Block; taking care of their emotions was all in a day's work to keep their family alive.
Nezumi clicked his tongue, wanting to berate himself— don't stop to think of Inukashi.
Never stop to think of people in the past.
Besides, dogs and mice were entirely different however anyone cut it, weren't they? Especially these mice.
They lived for one another. They also lived in harmony with humans, served them earnestly not because they were, say, biologically subservient, but because they had heart. Though, as the mice dwindled in numbers, that had begun to change. Nezumi felt each generation growing more and more attached to him, and regardless of if he saw them as companions, they did begin to see him as their master.
Their master...
Hamlet and Cravat have been energetic, so to speak— they were as exhilarated as Nezumi was to be travelling. Well, Nezumi was also soul-searching, but Hamlet and Cravat need not occupy themselves with human sensibilities like these. Feeling different winds and tasting new fruits were enough for them to live their lives out with satisfaction, as well as relishing in their master's presence and in the faith they have in his vitality.
Vitality, huh?
If they were going to treat him as their master anyway, then Nezumi only had to become the best master to them that there could ever be. He wouldn't have to trust in other humans, and these companions would never betray him.
He hadn't subscribed to the idea of one serving two masters at once, either— that was until he'd shown up and started to have the trio at his every beck and call—
Nezumi gulped, sinking to his knees, almost shooing the mice away.
Don't stop to think about him—
Never—
Tsukiyo—
Tsukiyo's master— Nezumi had long since ceased to be Tsukiyo's master.
The two mice came up to him again, peering into his face, as if to ask if he were alright. Despite the grief which came with the strange connection with their brother that had allowed them to feel Tsukiyo's passing, they still worried more for Nezumi who was in front of them.
"Don't worry," Nezumi said, trying to reassure the little pair. Despite the grief he had also felt, he worried more for these two, too. "It's okay."
They cheeped, hopping into Nezumi's palm when he reached out to them.
"Hamlet, Cravat."
Their responses were warm, nuzzling into the leather covering his fingers, pleased noises as they were called by name—
By name...
By name.
Yes. He remembered now, when exactly it was that Tsukiyo had switched masters.
"This one is Tsukiyo. Like a moonlit night."
"Like I said, don't name them!"
"Ah, but Eve—" A change in pitch, some dramatic gesticulations. "What's in a name?"
That which we call a rose By any other name would smell as sweet.
Naive. He who had spoken those words, not caring for its context, not caring for the way he used it then, not caring for how pathetically monotone he sounded as he recited Shakespeare— was naive.
"…Shion…"
The name felt foreign on Nezumi's tongue, in a voice dry and hoarse as he choked it out— what's in a name?
"Shion," he repeated, "What's in a name?" If you didn't care about context then, I won't care how I use it now, I won't care how pathetic I sound—
He could feel his eyes stinging, tears trying to force their way out. He didn't have the power to hold them in.
"Tsukiyo..." he mumbled. The sobs came right after.
The tears fell. They rolled down his cheeks relentlessly, fell from his chin to the palm of his hand where Hamlet and Cravat sat, watching blankly as if the drops were waterfalls meant to coax them into meditation.
Nezumi mourned Tsukiyo.
Tsukiyo was a precious friend, one he hadn't doubted for a minute when he tasked him to watch his place while he went off to work, one he hadn't doubted for a second when they were fighting for their lives at the Correctional Facility, one he wouldn't doubt for the rest of his life when he left him to take care of, and be taken care of by, his new master.
Here I am, Nezumi coughed, miles and miles away from Tsukiyo and where he'd grown up, bawling like a child over the death of a loved one for the first time since after the fire— he wanted to feel anger at himself for letting this happen, but there was no one watching, and with no one watching he could permit himself to openly cry about losing one of his closest friends.
"Attachment, Shion," he answered, to the mice, to himself, "that's what's in a name."
And attachment on his part meant that he would have a name to moan when he grieved. A clear photo, clear memories, of he who owned the name, and consequently very vivid agony.
When he'd lost his family and what was his life to that ruthless fire, he had been too young to remember any of their faces or their names. Grief was a numb throbbing in a scar he couldn't entirely recall how he got, tears he couldn't entirely understand streaming down his grandmother's face, blood blooming on her back when she was shot through her chest. Attachment was reserved for revenge and nothing else if it wouldn't help him attain it.
Finding out that the monster that took everything away from him had a name, No.6, helped him move forward.
"Attachment is what's in a name, Shion—"
The name tasted bitter. Attachment to the person who owned this name gave Nezumi a clear image of someone blame, too, a name to curse if he couldn't the heavens— and this attachment to Tsukiyo was his fault, it was making Nezumi grieve louder than he had ever before.
Attachment on Tsukiyo's part, though... By now, Nezumi had understood. It meant that Tsukiyo was so thoroughly attached to his master, the one that gave him his name, that if his heart ever caved in, Tsukiyo would... expire.
Humans can survive heartbreaks, tens and hundreds of them. But mice, they live such short lives; they don't deserve to feel heartache, they're not designed to be able to handle it. They're not designed by nature to have names, to have masters, to have heartache.
Nezumi spat. What kind of heartache would it have to be? Why had Tsukiyo grown weak to this point? What did he have to endure hearing or seeing? Why couldn't he take any more?
The fuck's his master doing?
Nezumi imagined— he willed himself against it, but he imagined— Shion waiting night and night again for him by open windows, sacrificing sleep and the warmth of a bed to stand with his arms outstretched on a balcony in the cold of the night, breaking down, and eventually, finally...
Giving up? Had his heart broken so much that Tsukiyo couldn't bear it?
Don't fuck with me.
I've only been away for a year. Nezumi gritted his teeth. I've only been away for a year, you idiot—
You endured being separated from your mother, you endured the hell of the Correctional Facility, you endured losing Safu— why couldn't you endure waiting for me?!
How hard did waiting for me get that you just gave up? Why can’t you endure it—?
You didn't believe in me.
He mouthed it, in between uneven breaths, the realization dawning on him. "You didn't believe in me, Shion."
I'm out here, believing in you, with all my heart—
Nezumi punched into the soil, his chest clenching as hard as his fist.
What kind of half-assed attachment is that?! To have been attached to me this much, all this time, without even knowing my real name— and you choose now to give up on me?
Don't fuck with me. Don't fuck with me.
Times Nezumi wasn't acting under a ruse were incredibly rare, and when he'd kissed Shion, he meant it: it was a real promise. He knew their time apart would do the both of them some good— they were apart for years after meeting for one night and they were fine, they were fine, we were fine.
When they were twelve, Nezumi didn't have to promise Shion he’d be back to save his life like he saved his, in fact he'd left without a word— but Shion had soughed and sighed anyway and called his name and thought of him and believed in him and loved him—
Is it attachment that isn't enough?
Nezumi grunted in the back of his throat, rolled his eyes at the ridiculousness of all of it. He could feel Shion was alive through the attachment he has to that airheaded asshole— it was an unwelcome attachment in the beginning but when push came to shove and he'd changed his life there was no going back, and it became an absolute attachment that connected every fiber of Nezumi's being to Shion— an attachment strong enough to last their time away from each other despite how hard he had to fight the urge to just go back before he could truly find himself after everything that's happened.
Shouldn't it be the same the other way around?
Nezumi wasn't sure how, when, where, or why, but he did it, he promised he would come back—Couldn't you feel it, Shion?!
Isn't it enough?
If... If Nezumi had told Shion his real name… Would he have never made up his mind to give up waiting for their promised reunion? Would his heart have never caved from not having him by his side to at least be there, to hold his hand as he bore on his shoulders the weight of the world he had to rebuild from the ground up?
Would that have made this attachment stronger? More resilient? More faithful?
For a heart to let go of a promise— it's one of the worst heartbreaks there is... But it's survivable. It's survivable, just not for a mouse. Shion will live through a heartbreak like this, operate on other motivations, maybe the bare minimum... but not Tsukiyo.
Nezumi swallowed hard, considering that he may as well be partly responsible for Tsukiyo's demise, for breaking his master’s heart. But it’s not out of guilt when he stood up, placed Hamlet and Cravat on his shoulder, and raised his arms. It was from the bottom of his heart when he sang. For Tsukiyo.
And for Shion.
Let this song touch their souls, was Nezumi's plea. Let it carry Tsukiyo's soul to eternal peace, and let it fucking hit Shion like a knee to his gut.
This separation wasn’t supposed to break Shion’s heart. Nezumi knew better than to tell Shion how to feel, but how dare he forget that I would never break a promise.
�� I didn't kiss you goodbye, Shion.
Nezumi was going to give him a piece of his goddamn mind.
He readjusted the superfibre cloth on his shoulders, making sure Cravat and Hamlet were comfortably situated among the folds. These two were nowhere near expiring, because they believed in Nezumi as their master.
Tsk. Tsukiyo was dear to him so he wanted to respect his death, but Nezumi couldn’t help it; now that he'd grieved and mourned him properly and sung him a song, the only thing left was to chide him, albeit lovingly: Tsukiyo, you should’ve just believed in me, too.
All Nezumi had to do now was turn around.
Nezumi breathed slowly, as he stepped in that direction, voicing another sentiment he felt deep in his bones. "This is why I said don't name them."
Thanks for reading!
#no.6#no. 6#nezumi#nezushi#tsukiyo#does he have is own tag on here or#wah huhu#pls be kind#leaving for uni in a bittt#i tOLD YALL IM ALIVE
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