#i drew this ages ago but just now colored it

[noxstrages]

hi im back on my bullshit

tween trio messing with their hair (to their parents' dismay)

if you're wondering why emmet says he doesn' t need to hear, I have a hard of hearing HC with him (i try to draw him with hearing aids whenever it fits)

Transcript below!

Panel 1:

Elesa: Hiiiii, Ingo, Emmet, my friends... Can I dye my hair at your guys' house? Ingo: She said 'No', like I said she would, didn't she? Elesa: Maybe Emmet: Did you bring my dye, too? Elesa: Yeah, duh! Emmet: Then, yes!

Panel 2:

Ingo: So... What's the plan for when they prohibit us from meeting again? Elesa: It'll be fine! We'll meet up like we did after we cut your hair! Emmet: i don't need to hear to know we're fucked again. Ingo: We will be if you say that word in front of them. Elesa: Trust me! We'll be just fine! Emmet: Yep. Verrry fucked. Ingo: EMMET. Ingo: He is right though.

[felsicveins]

Get along little doggie

[taro-pdf]

DCxDP: De-aged Danny is a Eldritch Little Ball of Mischief

This was not how Danny envisioned his evening going. Who knew that not only did an immortal ancient fae not only live in the infinite realms, but it also really didn’t like it when Danny told it that it couldn’t go around usurping other Kings’ kingdoms for funsies? Not Danny. Until about an hour ago that is. When the Observents observed the imbalance, they had told him about it. Apparently it was important enough to literally bury him in envelopes. Well, it wouldn’t be a bad thing to get away from paperwork for a while, Danny had thought. It turned out to be a much more difficult task than he’d anticipated.

Lucky for Danny, he’d just won the not-so-little spat and the fae capitulated in the end, agreeing to maintain but not expand the boundaries of its haunt. Unlucky for Danny, there was a different neverborn fast approaching, and from its posture, it was not wanting to just have tea. Taking just enough time to send out a “hurt/portaling away/talk later/careful” core message to his Fraid, Danny pushed the ectoplasm in front of him to the side and willed the Realms to take him somewhere safe. 

The swirling green energy was a relief. The Realms all but pushed him inside, and he fell through time and space, getting smaller and smaller to conserve the little ectoplasm he had left. He slid to the ground with a sigh. All he saw before the world faded was an overcast sky framed by the edges of apartment buildings.

****

Danny slowly woke up. The first thing he noticed was the gravel he lay on. It shifted beneath as he rolled over, bits clinging to his skin where he had been touching the ground. The second thing he noticed was the smell. The third thing he noticed was that there was a lot of noise coming from somewhere. He wrinkled his nose and sat up, rubbing at his eyes with his tiny hands.

Tiny hands?

Danny looked at his hands. They were indeed tiny.

He opened and closed his tiny baby hands experimentally. They made adorable little fists, but weren’t they supposed to make big fists? How big were his hands supposed to be again? He looked at his body. His hands seemed to be the right size compared to the rest of himself, so he decided to not worry about it.

What he would worry about was his immediate comfort, and the thing bothering him most was Why Did It Smell So Bad. He pushed himself into a sitting position and then floated just of the ground. He frowned at the metal wall in front of himself. Taking a few steps back, he saw it was a dumpster�� which explained the smell, at least. So what was the noise? 

Peering around the dumpster, Danny saw a very small, colorful car, and the door opened to reveal a clown who shouldn’t be able to fit into such a small place. He laughed maniacally, just loud enough to cover the sounds of distress from nearby people. 

“Well, well, well, Batsy! Seems your little Arkham fun house can’t hold all this FUN!” Arms spread wide, a clown extricated himself from the car and walked forward, eyes fixed on something above him. “I think someone needs to remind Gotham how to live a little, wouldn’t you agree? Why don’t you all SMILE for me?”

He threw his head back and cackled. The sound sent shivers through Danny’s body and made him flatten his ears. Ears? He glanced up and didn’t see anything. When he patted his head with his tiny adorable hands, though, he found that he did indeed have soft pointy ears. Which was… something that he probably should have feelings about.

The sound of confetti popping drew his attention away from his (maybe new) ears back to the events outside. The bystanders were smiling now, tears streaming down their cheeks. Another pop of confetti, and their smiles stretched wider. They didn’t seem to be actually smiling. Danny watched as less colorful clowns brought more people up the laughing one. He reached into the car and pulled out another confetti popper. Danny frowned. It wasn’t right to make people feel scared, and it wasn’t right to make them smile if they didn’t want to, either. Danny may be small, but at least he knew that! He started forward. The clown was big but no matter how big you were, sharp teeth still hurt. Danny licked his lips. His teeth were very sharp. Changing his tail to less noticeable little legs and little feet, he crept forward.

As he opened his mouth to BITE that horrible no good very bad clown, he was snatched up and yote! Yote from one pair of big hands to another! They wrapped up his writhing form in a firm, one armed hug and then swung him away from the clown, away from the ground, and onto the roof, where he was unceremoniously plopped down. He blinked.

He blinked again. There were other people on the roof. Some were crying. Some were smiling. Some were standing and looking over the edge. Person Who Grabbed him was one of those. Person Dressed Like A Traffic Light was another.

“He doesn’t seem affected, but he might bite,” said grabbed.

“Tt. I will be able to handle the small child. What do you take me for?” Traffic Light uncrossed his arms, pulled something from his belt, and threw it with practiced ease. Danny heard a “oof” and then thud as someone’s body thumped to the ground. Traffic Light had hurt someone!

“No! Don’t hurt!” Danny lunged for Traffic Light’s elbow, only to be grabbed by Grabbed again!

“Woah, little one!” Grabbed wore a mask, but Danny could still see his smile. “We’re taking care of the bad clowns. They are hurting people, and we want them to stop.”

“Ok,” said Danny. He didn’t like the clowns. They could get very hurt for all he cared.

(started a long time ago and unfinished)

[ttshihiro]

pspspps.. totally not golden groovy woops

ANYWAYS HII!! heard u were open for requests. may i request tammy + qiu with and an artist reader :00

requests of my favorite fandoms are my catnip good gof woa who could this be‽‽ my reqs and my ask box are like always open btw >◡<

extra note/s: I refer to step 1 Qiu as he/him. Uhhh take this as platonic or romantic, I'll add an indicator for romance (𐙚) ^^

more under the cut > o

✧ At 10 years old, QIU's fascinated. How he discovers your interest and skill in arts varies but his reaction doesn't. He's impressed! Whether digital or traditional, Qiu would love to participate especially if you asked him yourself.

For this reason, he carries an extra pen and even those colored ones just in case you get bored or if you're suddenly struck by creativity when you two are playing :3

✧ The first time you show him one of your doodles you made during class, he's compelled to do the same whether or not you actually give him it. And ever since, you two've been exchanging these sketches during class. It's the cutest scene to walk into.

✧ URGH AND THE THINGS HE DOES WHEN YOU TELL HIM ABOUT ART BLOCK DEPENDING ON HOW AND WHAT YOU DRAW

You're into drawing sceneries? Trust that he starts telling you and Tamarack about more "special things" in the forest and/or the town.

Like the sky? There's this clearing a lot further into the forest at your backyards. Stargaze, watch the clouds and the sunset together?

✧ It's also necessary for me to mention that unlike his notes, lazily pressed against eachother and constantly on the run, anything you give him goes to a safe space probably in between a books pages, under the the matress of his bed or inside a drawer/container.

"They broke into my backyard accidentally, 'cause they were on a crazy investigation about a paper airplane. Plus, they got here a day ago and they're already looking out for me. Normally, I'm the one doing that."

"Besides, they're pretty. And they make me pretty. Look! Look how they drew me!"

✧ As for 10-year-old TAMARACK, she's curious. The things you draw, are they based on actual places? Actual people? Oh, you draw based on your imagination? Elaborate.

✧ At some point in the prologue, she says "All the forests in the world are different, and some places don't even have forests. I can show you good spots to find things since you're newer to this forest than me."

And I can't not think of her running up to you to give you all of what she gathered for you to draw like omfg

With all those leaves and tiny branches sticking out of her hair and sweater, she smiles brightly with her hands filled with her treasures. AUGH SHE MAKES ME SO SICK I LOVE HER

✧ Like Qiu, she has her own safe spot designated for only your drawings if you've given her any.

She shows off all of them. Especially if you've drawn her?? It'll be the only thing she talks about during literally any time for the rest of the month and the few months after.

"Out of all the friends I have here, you're the best one. We came to the same exact neighborhood, almost at the same time, and are he same age. You have fun outside and I do too."

"I think you're pretty. How you draw me is pretty! I've never met a kid who was just like me. That's important. That's serious."

✧ Now, 14-year-old QIU's pretty much no different. They're even more impressed when they see just how much you've improved. Nonetheless, they treasure your old drawings just as much as they do they new.

They take the liberty of providing you with both a pen and paper to draw on when you're together, in case you don't bring your sketchbook (if you own one).

On those days where you two just sit in silence in their hideout, their gaze drifts to your side quietly a few times to watch your progress. After a while, they settle with sitting right next to you and watching the stroke of your pen against the paper as the scene forms with each hatch.

✧ As a teen, they've actually been a tad bit farther off the town when they feel like taking a ride on their bike. They've seen many sights and burn the route into their brain for them to tell you about. They'd even be happy as to bring you there themselves.

✧ If you ask them to be your muse, good god you'd need to tell them what to do.

It's almost a funny sight. Qiu, the kid who knew what to do their whole life asks you, "Should I pose? Where do I look? Ah- what's my good side?"

𐙚 They can feel their breath hitch under your scrutiny. Suddenly, they're concious of every single thing about them. Where do their eyes go? Should they move their hands? Is their hair in the way?

They avert their gaze flusteredly, their head ever so slightly moving to the side when they do so.

And good god do their hands clutch the fabric of their pants when you tell them to look at you properly.

✧ Same goes for TAMARACK at 14. She's as intrugued as ever to hear about your work. She admires (you)r style from then till now and has learned to appreciate the time gone into things as simple as this, whether or not you've made it with her in mind. BUT GOD IF YOU TELL HER IT IS, it's always sitting on her desk and she thinks constantly about what you've done for her.

✧ And while she doesn't exactly bring you a pen, she's more than glad to hand you hers when you need it.

✧ Unlike before, she'd now be at your side when you two hung out at her backyard. She'd be sitting across from you, practicing the cello. The hum of her instrument accompanied by the sound of nature and the scratch of your pen against paper gives her a sense of calmness.

This may also be when she realizes she's been your muse! Her fingers trace over where your pen has been and boy appreciate isn't even enough for her to describe how she felt. It was definitely happy, but that wasn't the word either.

𐙚 Her heart pounds alarmingly as she admires your work. It's almost concerning to you that she sits silently with a blank expression as she held your sketchbook in her hands.

But that concern washes off you as soon as a warm smile curls the corners of her lips, tender adoration displayed all over her face.

[steddieas-shegoes]

It’s not that Steve didn’t want a tattoo.

He’d wanted one for years. Just something to piss off his parents the way they pissed him off constantly.

Asking when he’d find a girlfriend (he wouldn’t, he’s gay), when he’d find a better job (he liked his job as a guidance counselor), when he’d move out of the tiny apartment he shared with that girl who couldn’t give them grandchildren (Robin gagged at the mere thought of any of that).

But Robin promised she’d go with him when he made this appointment a month ago and she’d just cancelled at the last minute. Something about a work emergency.

She didn’t have a work emergency. She worked at a Starbucks.

He knew what she was doing. It’s what she always did.

“I just wanna get you out of your shell! People should see the Steve that I see!”

Robin did get a different version of Steve, one that didn’t feel like he had to hide his surprisingly bubbly personality. His students got a calm, kind counselor. But everyone else?

They’d be lucky to get a smile during a conversation.

He wasn’t, like, an asshole.

He just had asshole tendencies.

Robin called him her Oscar The Grouch.

He allowed it because deep down, he knew it was true.

And now he was even MORE grumpy because he had to get this tattoo alone. In a place he’d almost certainly be the outcast in his glasses and business casual attire. With people judging him for not already having tattoos and piercings at the age of 27.

Robin owed him.

When he walked into the shop, he was surprised to hear classic rock instead of heavy metal. The front counter was covered in pictures of bands Steve didn’t know, tattoos he would never get, and signs that had enough vulgar words to fill up the swear jar he kept in the apartment for shits and giggles.

Nervous was an understatement.

A head popped around the corner, bright smile lighting up the face of a man who looked like he belonged here.

“Be right there!”

Steve didn’t bother to say anything because as soon as he started to respond, the head was gone.

He frowned, but figured the guy might be with another client and he was pretty sure they had rules about touching things with their gloves on. At least, he hoped they did.

He stared down at the picture on his phone.

It was small, simple. Something he wouldn’t even have to cover up at work.

One of his students drew it for him last year when he’d missed some work because of the flu. He’d only missed two days, but because he so rarely missed, his regulars were pretty worried about him.

His regulars being three students who sat with him during their lunch period to avoid bullies.

It was a sun, with beautiful yellows and oranges combining into a near perfect circle, small lines randomly jutting out and fading into nothing.

It was beautiful art.

And he was getting it permanently etched onto his body.

He loved his students, what could he say?

The head popped back around the corner, interrupting his thoughts again.

“Sorry for the wait. I had a customer on the phone. How can I help ya?”

“Steve Harrington. Here for a 6:00 appointment?”

The guy beamed at him, nodding along.

“Perfect! You said you already knew what you wanted?”

Steve held up his phone to show this still nameless guy the picture.

“You want the colors like that?”

“If you can.”

“If I can, he says! Of course I can! This is really nice. Did you make this?”

Steve snorted, but he wasn’t that amused. This guy was like a ball of energy and Steve was already exhausted.

“No. One of my students did.”

“Oh, are you a teacher?”

“Guidance counselor.”

“That’s cool! So you, like, make sure the youths of today are on the right path? Keep them interested in the right things?”

Steve blinked at this man.

“I guess, yeah. So can we uh, get started…”

“Oh shit! I always forget to introduce myself to the newbies. Eddie.” He held out his hand towards Steve to shake. Steve stared down at it for a moment, knowing his face was doing that judgy thing Robin always warned him about, but not being able to stop it. “Not a handshake guy?”

Steve cleared his throat, finally reaching his hand up to shake Eddie’s.

The rings on Eddie’s fingers were cold against his own, his grip was strong but not the type of string that made Steve uncomfortable.

Eddie was smiling at him. He never stopped smiling, this guy.

It was kind of…cute. Steve would never admit it to anyone, but the way Eddie just seemed genuinely happy was really doing it for him.

That was annoying.

When he finally remember to let go, Eddie was already turning around to grab a piece of paper from the shelf behind him.

“I’m just gonna have you send that to this email,” he pointed to the contact info on the piece of paper he’d grabbed. “And I’ll get it printed on transfer paper so we can get started.”

Steve nodded and sent the picture as requested.

He ignored the shaking of his hands. It wasn’t a big deal. It’s just a tattoo. Most adults have them. Robin had four. Eddie here seemed to have hundreds.

Eddie must have noticed his visible anxiety. He felt Eddie’s hand on his arm, squeezing gently.

“First tattoo?”

“Is it that obvious?”

“Nah. I’ve just done a lot of first tattoos.” Eddie pulled up the picture on his own phone while he spoke. “I promise it’ll be easier than you’re thinking.”

“I’m not worried about the pain.”

Eddie glanced up at him quickly, then back down at the phone in his hand.

“It’s just permanent, ya know?”

Eddie let out a laugh and held up both of his arms, fully covered in tattoos.

“I know. That’s what’s great. Nothing in life is permanent, but these are. Even when you’re long gone, these will still be on your body.”

Steve hadn’t thought about it like that.

Permanence was something he’d always struggled with. It’s why he was so standoffish according to the two therapists he’d tried talking to. His parents had never given him an idea of what someone staying around was like, his friendships all ended when he realized he wanted to be a better person than they were capable of being, and his only serious relationship ended when he was ready for marriage and she wasn’t.

He’d been through a lot of personal growth since then, most of it thanks to Robin and some experiences at the gay clubs she took him to, and now he felt better about who he was.

He just didn’t think anyone or anything would stick around.

Robin was proving she might, but only time would tell. Plenty of time for Steve to fuck it up.

“You can still back out, man. I won’t charge you the cancellation fee or anything.”

Oh, how nice. Eddie thought he was a wimp and wasn’t even gonna follow his own policy to let him back out.

That’s shameful. He was ashamed.

“Not backing out.”

He folded his arms in front of his chest, trying to tone down the glare he could feel on his own face.

Eddie threw his hands up as he waited for the printer to finish.

“Alright. Just letting you have an out.”

Eddie looked over the few copies he’d printed, all slightly different sizes, and then lined them up on the counter facing Steve.

“What size were you thinking? Where’s this going?”

Steve pointed to the middle one, barely an inch wide.

“I was thinking my wrist?”

Eddie smiled at him.

“Sounds good, sunshine.”

Oh. That was not good.

That little thing his stomach just did?

Nope. Not good at all.

Eddie walked around the counter and gestured for Steve to follow him around the corner.

Steve found himself in awe of the room he was walking into.

He’d never seen such variety in anything. Some of it resembled the front counter, but there was also a Bob Marley poster, a rainbow flag, a whole wall of funny bumper stickers, and graffiti along the ceiling.

It was certainly a lot for the eyes to take in.

Steve kind of loved it.

He even let out a smile.

He quickly hid it away again when he heard Eddie hit his hand against the chair.

“Got it all clean already for ya. Just take a seat and get comfy.” Eddie reached over grab some gloves from a shelf before he sat in front of Steve. “Gonna put this on you first. Make sure the placement is good. Then I’ll shave that area and get all my stuff ready to go. The tattoo itself probably won’t take more than an hour, and most of that will be shading these beautiful colors. Need anything before we get started? Water? Bathroom? Snack?”

Steve’s head was spinning.

Eddie’s energy was relentless, and he had a smile on his face the entire time.

Steve couldn’t help smiling back at him.

“I’m good. Thanks.”

Eddie nodded and started humming along to the song playing over the speakers.

He went through everything quickly, but still took his time explaining everything. Steve was kind of grateful he didn’t have to sit in silence; His brain wasn’t his friend when there was silence.

“Alright, sunshine. If you’re good, I’m good.”

Steve felt his face heat up, blush spreading from his cheeks to his neck.

“I’m good.”

And then he started.

It was sharp, the needles carving ink into his skin causing a new sensation up his entire arm. But it was also…good?

He’d expected it to be painful, maybe even go numb. He hadn’t expected the pain to feel like this.

He lost focus. Everything felt distant and blurry, but in a sleepy way, not in a pass out way. Steve felt himself smiling slightly, but didn’t have the energy to stop it.

He was watching Eddie work, but wasn’t really seeing anything beyond the way his fingers splayed his skin tight and the tattoo gun left ink behind.

His eyes closed at some point, but he wasn’t asleep, the faint buzz of the tattoo gun keeping him present enough to stay awake.

“Hey, sunshine. Doing alright?”

“Hm?”

He tried to focus in on Eddie’s face. Eddie was very close. He was holding his wrist.

Steve was still here.

“Need a break?”

“No. I’m good.”

Eddie chuckled. “I’d say so.”

He continued, and Steve let his mind wander again. It was nice to drift. He’d never felt this relaxed before, not even during the massage Robin got him for his birthday last year.

“Alright, sunshine. You’re done.”

Steve looked down at the tattoo now covering his wrist.

It was beautiful, even better than the picture.

He started to cry.

If he wasn’t so far gone, he’d probably be embarrassed or angry about it, but surely other people had cried after a tattoo before. Maybe Eddie would just ignore it.

“Oh, sweetheart. Do you not like it?”

“No. I love it.” Steve took a shaky breath, then another. “It’s beautiful. Thank you.”

Eddie was rubbing his back and smiling sadly down at him.

“I’m glad you love it. I just have to wrap it up and go over some care instructions, okay?”

“Okay.”

Steve was never this vulnerable, not even with Robin. He was pretty sure she’d only actually seen him cry once when a student moved away.

His whole thing was that he didn’t show emotions. His job required it to an extent, though he was always caring to his students, giving them smiles when they came in to make them feel welcome.

But here he was smiling and crying to a stranger over a tattoo.

��Sunshine?”

“Yeah?”

“Got you some water. I need you to look at me while I go over the instructions okay?”

“Okay.”

He felt himself coming back down to earth as he looked at Eddie, a soft smile making Steve focus in on his mouth.

“That’s good. Keep this wrapped for four hours at least and longer if you’ll be outside. When you take it off, make sure you wash it with antibacterial soap gently and then use moisturizing lotion, unscented is best. If you need some, I can give you some. Make sure to keep it moisturized over the next week. It’ll peel a little, that’s normal, but if you see anything that’s a lot of color falling out or something, come see me and I can fix it. No long exposure to direct sunlight for at least 4 weeks, and use sunscreen on it if you think you will be.” He took a breath and smirked. “Got it?”

“Um.”

He handed over a paper with a laugh.

“It’s all right here. I just needed you to come back down from space. Drink your water and relax for a minute. I’ll go get the card reader.”

Steve did as he was told, enjoying the way the ice cold water helped him focus back in on his surroundings.

With the focus came the grumpiness. He was crashing from his adrenaline high, and his first instinct was to pout.

He didn’t think he was visibly doing so until he heard Eddie snort from a few feet away.

“Welcome back. Sorry to burst your bubble. If I didn’t have another client in 20 minutes, I’d probably have let you stay there for a bit. Seems like you needed it.”

“I. What do you mean? I was just zoned out.”

Eddie froze where he was typing something into his phone.

“Have you never…? Oh. Jesus Christ. Okay. Well. I don’t.” He looked genuinely concerned about what to do. “Okay. I don’t feel comfortable letting you be alone yet. Do you have someone you live with or who can hang out for a bit?”

“My roommate had a work emergency or she’d be here.”

Steve’s arms were crossed again, but the pull of the wrap around his wrist reminded him of the dull ache he was still experiencing. It made him shiver, but he couldn’t explain why.

“Okay. Can you stick around for a bit? I’ve got an office with a couch in the back.”

“Are you gonna tell me why?”

“Ever heard of sub space?”

“Like…the kinky thing?”

Eddie facepalmed.

“Yeah. Like the kinky thing.”

“I mean, I’ve heard of it. Why?”

“You just spent the last hour in it.”

Steve was usually pretty good at keeping a pretty stoic face, but his jaw dropped.

“No I didn’t.”

“Sunshine, you were gone. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone that deep from a tattoo before.”

“If this is just a way to get me alone in your office or something…”

“Steve. I know you don’t know me, but I would never do that. If I wanted to get you alone, I’d just ask you.”

“I’m sure I’d say no.”

“Exactly. So you’ll stay so I can keep an eye on you?”

Steve shrugged. He didn’t have anything else to do and Robin wouldn’t be home for hours.

“I guess.”

Eddie’s eyes were practically glittering.

“Good. Go lay down, sunshine. I’ll bring you more water in a minute.”

So despite Steve having no idea what just happened, and barely any idea who Eddie even was beyond a talented tattoo artist, he made his way to the office and curled up on the couch.

Pout firmly in place because he was still Steve, after all.

Chapter 2 /  Chapter 3

[magnoliasandarson]

ice and stone, deadweight redux

In an odd sort of self-punishing way, Jason Todd liked to visit his own grave.

When he first "came back" he had half-crawled back to the unforgiving stone and thrown up, hysterically panicking when his mind told him it was dirt leaving his lips. He had wept and screamed until his voice gave out, trapped in a hellish loop of warring phantom sensations. One second, he was burning alive- the next, suffocating on icy mud.

But that was then, and this is now.

Now, he had once again been unable to keep his cool at a Wayne family function. Now, he had shattered an expensive-looking crystal glass in his fist and stormed out of the formal dining room. Now, he was a monster to them again. Merry-fuckin-Christmas.

So, here he sat, perched six feet over where his corpse once lay, and mourned the boy that should exist instead of him.

It was oddly festive in the cemetery. Blood-red poinsettias and fragrant garlands adorned every other monument, with little LED candles glimmering here and there. The rubble of Sheila Haywood's marble gravestone sparkled in the reflection of bright city lights—like twinkling stars shining accusingly over at him. Sue him, but Jason had taken a crowbar to her marker almost immediately after arriving in Gotham.

He stared at the epitaph: Rest in Peace. There was crystal from his glass still embedded in his hand, glittering like diamonds amidst the rivulets of blood leaving his palm. His eyes followed the journey of the shimmering scarlet over his thigh and down to the powdery snow under him.

He didn't really remember crawling out. The pits had taken away the brunt of the scars, but there were still white lines traced into the tan skin of his hands. He didn't care to think about how deep the scarring must have been for it to stay.

Jason found himself trapped, staring at the red flowers blooming beneath him. Some part of him wondered if the blood would find its way to the wreckage of his casket, to the gore he'd left in his wake so long ago. Logically, he figured Dick would wander over soon, once he got done yelling at Bruce and arguing with Damian.

He never guessed it would be Tim.

"Hey," Jason would never in a million years admit it, but he was privately a little pleased that Tim had come looking for him. He had fucked up so spectacularly with his brother, had given him every reason to despise him- to want him dead, and yet, here Tim was. Awkwardly standing just on the other side of Jason's headstone, face pinched like he'd eaten an especially sour lemon.

Jason tilted his head up, something in his neck cracking as his chin left his sternum, "Sup, Timbit."

Tim looked genuinely pained as he stepped around the grave and lowered himself to sit a few feet away on the snow, "Y'know, just seeing the sights, festive lights, my brother bleeding out in snow- the holiday favorites."

Jason barked a laugh as something in his shoulders loosened, the kid was a bit of a bastard but he was funny, "You get forced to check on the charity case?"

"Drew the short straw, yeah," Tim's face was pale, save for the red coloring his nose, "do you need a med kit?"

Jason Peter Todd; Beloved Son and Friend. Jason's lips half formed the words as he read them over again; when the blood started roaring in his ears, he clenched his fist around the shards- the fresh wave of pain grounding him, "This won't kill me."

"That's not what I asked," the vehemence in Tim's words snapped Jason out of his half-daze, electric teal eyes landing on furrowed eyebrows and a stormy gaze, "Jason, are you okay?"

Jason huffed a weak imitation of a laugh, "Is anyone in this family?"

"This isn't about them," Tim immediately countered, a line on his forehead forming. Jason hated himself for it, for making Tim look like that. This was his little brother, a kid, really, and he looked twice his age because he was forced to babysit the family basketcase.

Jason used his non-gory hand to reach into his jacket pocket and take out a cigarette. "Just tired, Tim," he tucked the unlit cigarette between his lips, lighting it up as he muttered, "That's all—just tired."

Tim's face blurred behind a cloud of smoke, for a moment erasing the unlived age from his features, "You should get more sleep."

"Hypocrite," Jason snapped back with no real heat. It was true; he should have been the one telling Tim to sleep.

The smoke cleared between them as Jason took a long, deep drag. Tim looked half apologetic as he almost whispered, "This family's specialty."

Jason scoffed, unable to stop himself from nearly shouting, "You don't need to tell me that," he pointed his cigarette to the ice-glazed stone before them, "I'm not even a Wayne, Mr. CEO Drake-Wayne." It was cruel, it was mean, but Jason couldn't force himself to care.

Tim's face contorted again, coloring up to his ears with old anger and bitterness. Some cruel part of Jason's mind cheered. Finally, the kid was going to be honest. Go on, yell at the boogeyman who hurt you, tell him to go to Hell. Really end the holiday with a bang. The kid took a long, controlled breath, and evenly asked, "Are you okay, Jason?"

Jason grimaced at the bullshit question, pressing his bloody palm into the scarlet snow as he stood, flicking his spent cigarette at Sheila, "Just dead weight, Tim,"

He turned his back to the boy shivering on the snow, "That's all I ever was."

[ganondoodle]

its still rough but as far as im gonna get for now, cant decide on the tentacle colors still nkfdnvkdfn

possible name for lad is Pan or Paktolos (just bc .. reference to midas legend even if this midas got nothing to do with it; oh yeah, a bonus midas sketch .. he needs a proper redesign too)

tentacle lad may look mean here (i genuinely dont know why i drew him like that) but hes a big sappy softie, even carries a picture of midas in a locket around- next to the demon teeth hes collected he doesnt leave the island much anymore and mostly manages everything on it, his people call him by royal titles sometimes bc hes been a very competent leadership figure but he doesnt put value in any titles-

he rescued midas from the demon hunters that kidnapped him years ago to bring one of the biggest and most influencial empires to collapse after his older sister, who was the empress, was unexpectedly dying- midas being the next in line the empire doesnt really exist anymore at this point, midas now leading missions around the island instead, or going around keeping up to date with politics and tensions since his husband (tentacle lad) and his people are of a kind that is largely being kept a secret and would be a target for demon hunters as well, despite them not being demons (they look monstrous but are more based on animals, are native to earth, cannot change form, age only somewhat slower than humans and have no control over any elemental magic more than a very skilled human can have- which is basically not even noticable and usually gets passed off as 'talent' in the way a skilled sailor can feel the approaching weather in the wind)

[valkyrieromanoff]

SANTA DOESN'T KNOW LIKE I DO: Don Piper x f!reader

synopsis: you spend your first Christmas with Don, stepping into his world and finding your place in his family. Between baking cookies and quiet moments, you realize how much you mean to each other.

warning: none, fluffy, implied age difference.

w: 957

a/n: Hello there, since the poll was basically a tie, I decided to whip up a little fluffy piece to make sure it didn’t get overlooked! Honestly, Hayden as Don is just the cutest—like, I just want to hug him and cover him in kisses 🥰. Hope you enjoy it, and Merry Christmas, everyone! 🎄✨

I know all of your favorite songs Pick up each time you call So why can't I be the one To give you everything you want?

It was your first time spending Christmas with Don’s family, and the nerves had been simmering all day. You and Don had been together for only a few months, and while you’d already met his ex-wife, Eva, and the kids, this felt different. It was Christmas, a time that held so much weight for you—a time for family, for connection, for reflection. And for the first time, you’d be spending it away from your own family, taking a step further into this growing relationship with him. It was exciting, but it also terrified you.

Don, of course, had been his usual steady and thoughtful self. He’d gone all out decorating the house, stringing colorful lights on the trees, the door, and even outside. The entire house gleamed with a festive glow, lighting up the snowy evening. You couldn’t help but tease him about the electricity bill, and he’d just chuckled warmly, his blue eyes crinkling at the corners, before heading out to set up the nativity scene on the front lawn.

It had been a group effort. The kids had bundled up against the cold, giggling as they carefully helped place the figures of Mary, Joseph, and baby Jesus in the little wooden stable Don had built years ago. The scene looked perfect, peaceful, bathed in the soft glow of the nearby string lights.

Now, the house was quieter, the warmth of the fireplace and the smell of pine needles wrapping you in a cozy blanket of Christmas spirit. The snow outside had picked up, fluffy white flakes accumulating on the windowpane. You were in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up and apron tied tightly, standing amidst a small mountain of baking supplies—flour, sugar, eggs, cookie cutters, and icing molds—all scattered across the counter.

You’d decided to surprise Don and the kids with gingerbread cookies. The red apron you wore was already dusted with flour, little white specks smudged into your hair and one streak brushed across your cheek. But you were confident. Even if you weren’t a master baker, it was the effort that counted, right?

In the living room, you could hear the soft murmur of Don’s voice and the occasional giggle from the kids as they watched a film about the birth of Jesus. It was the kind of night that felt so simple, yet so meaningful.

“Looks like someone’s been busy,” Don’s warm, familiar voice drew you from your thoughts. He stepped into the kitchen, carrying two empty mugs of hot chocolate, a kind smile playing on his lips.

His presence filled the room immediately—calm, steady, and comforting. He was wearing one of his usual knit sweaters, the kind that always smelled faintly of pine and something uniquely him. His light brown hair was slightly tousled from lounging with the kids, and his eyes softened as they landed on you.

“I think the kids are all tucked in now,” he said softly, setting the mugs in the sink. But his eyebrow quirked when he noticed the state of you—the flour in your hair, the streak on your cheek, the little trail of powdered sugar on the counter. “What’s going on in here?”

You smiled sheepishly, brushing your hands on the front of your apron, only succeeding in adding more flour to the mess. “I thought we’d make gingerbread cookies,” you admitted. “We can bake them tonight and then call the kids to decorate in the morning.”

His smile widened, lighting up his face in a way that made your heart flutter. “Gingerbread cookies, huh?” he teased gently. “Well, I can’t let you tackle that alone.”

Don opened a drawer and pulled out a green apron with colorful little drawings on it—marks made lovingly by his kids years ago with fabric paint. He held it up with a playful grin. “Looks like this old thing still fits the bill.”

You stepped closer, reaching up to tie the apron strings around his neck. “There,” you said softly, your fingers brushing against the warm skin of his collarbone for a moment longer than necessary.

He leaned down slightly as you tied the bow, his face close enough to yours that you could catch the faint scent of the aftershave he always wore. “You know,” he murmured, his voice low and affectionate, “I don’t think I’ve ever looked forward to decorating cookies this much.”

Your cheeks flushed, but you couldn’t stop the smile that tugged at your lips.

Don’s eyes lingered on you for a moment, full of warmth and something deeper. He placed his hands gently on your waist, pulling you just a little closer. “You’re amazing, you know that?” he said, his tone soft but sincere. “The way you’ve stepped into all of this—into my life, into my kids’ lives—it means more to me than I can ever say.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you smiled up at him, your hands resting lightly on his chest. “They’re easy to love,” you whispered, the truth of it shining in your voice.

He leaned down and pressed a tender kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering as if savoring the moment. “Still,” he said as he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze. “I love how much you care. It’s more than I ever thought I’d find again.”

The two of you stood there for a moment, wrapped in the quiet intimacy of the kitchen, the snow still falling softly outside.

“Well,” Don said after a beat, his playful grin returning. “We’ve got cookies to bake, right?”

You laughed, handing him a mixing bowl. “Let’s do this.”

And together, in the glow of the kitchen lights and the quiet warmth of each other’s company, you started a new Christmas tradition—one that already felt like home.

[quibbs126]

So a couple of days ago, I decided “you know what? I might as well try my hand at human designs for the Cookies”. Granted I only did the bust because I’m lazy. But yeah that’s what this is

And in addition to that because I thought it’d be fun, I gave myself a rule that the characters can only have natural skin, hair and eye colors, unless their character would make relative sense to have dyed hair or colored contacts, as you can see with Princess and Wildberry

I drew Dark Choco and Dark Cacao first since they’re my hyperfixations, they should be the first ones I draw. And then I drew the Hollyberry family because with their pink and blue hair, I thought it’d be fun to try and change them. But after I finished them, I didn’t know who else to put nor did I have a lot of room, so I just left it at them

I’m just gonna list random things about the designs now

I’m not entirely sure where Dark Choco and Cacao’s streaks come from, but I couldn’t just get rid of them. For Dark Choco, I’d say either dye or stress, and for Dark Cacao, either stress or age (though given he’s had them streaks since a young age, stress is probably the more likely option)

I gave Dark Cacao grey eyes, but maybe I should have gone with black instead. Probably more realistic. And for that matter dark eyes probably would have been the better option for Wildberry too. Hm

I admit, I probably should have gone with a lighter red for Hollyberry, Royal Berry and Princess’s hair, but I gave them that shade since I thought Hollyberry would look good with dark red hair

I really didn’t want to draw Hollyberry’s hair, it was a pain. I’d much rather draw it down, but the updo is more accurate to her, so eh

Royal Berry looks like a barber to me

I made Jungleberry and Tiger Lily’s hair black because I feel like it’s a thing for blue to be a substitute for black, like in older movies and such, so I did it the other way around, and also it wouldn’t make sense for either of them to have dyed hair

This was my first time drawing Jungleberry and I quite liked drawing her

Drawing Princess here was what finally got me to understand just what her hairstyle is supposed to be. I know I’ve seen it before, I think in Berserk, but I don’t remember who had it so I can’t show you a picture of what I mean. But I get how her hair works now

Speaking of her hair, I admit, I took liberties with making her hair curly, especially since no one else in her family has visibly curly hair, but to be honest I think I did that because I have dark red coily hair that’s also curly. So I was probably just taking reference from myself. I also share dark brown eyes, but I have no trace of her melanin, I am very pale

I made the red/pink eyes brown since I figured those were the closest colors and a good translation, but I ran into a problem when I realized Jungleberry already has brown eyes. So just shh there, ignore it

I don’t know how dreads work I apologize

In my head Wildberry dyes his hair red because that’s Hollyberry’s hair color, hence why it’s red and not pink

And I think that’s about it. I’ll probably do more of these since this was fun, but I don’t know when or who I’ll do next

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for my fanart and how I responded to someone's negative reaction of it?

Okay so some background to start. I'm (genderfluid, 18+) in a fandom that was originally a book and got a live action adaptation several years ago. The adaption is MUCH more popular than the book series and honestly very different from it (a lot of characters have different backstories, the main character doesn't have a brother in the adaption, and ages were changed) but very few people have read the book series. (Admittedly, the fandom is not very big. It's actually the smallest one I'm in, which means I'm kinda limited in the number of people to interact with) Anyways! I'm in a discord (it's 18+ tho I don't know the actual ages of anyone else involved) for this fandom and although they promote themselves as being for both book and adaptation fans, according to the roles I am one of five people of the 40+ people in the server who have read the books, so that's not a lot.

Now, for Valentine's day I made fanart of the main couple, the mc and his wife (they get married in the series. In the books they are already together in the beginning but the adaption wanted drama and decided to not have them be together in the beginning. One of the changes that I very much do not like.) They're the most popular ship in the fandom. I love them. Anyways, I shared it in the Discord for Valentines and did not get a nice reaction.

See, in the books, both characters are white, but in the adaptation the wife is black. (The mc looks different in the adaptation too, shorter and with different hair and eye color, but he's still white) I drew the book version, because that's what I like. They're my blorbos.

Another person in the server took MY art and recolored it so that the wife was black and posted it in the server with a comment about whitewashing characters of color. I told them that I didn't whitewash her and that it was really fucking rude to edit someone else's fanart. They replied that she was black, I was racist, and posted a screenshot of a Google search asking the race of the actress who plays the wife in the adaptation. I replied with a screenshot of the her books' fanwiki page and said that my fanart was of the books and if they wanted fanart of the adaptation they could make it themself. They asked how they were supposed to know it was from the books since nobody read them and they were shit. I replied that they could realize the mc AND his wife looked different, that I read the books, and they were better than the adaptation, and how would they know if the books were shit since they obviously hadn't read them?

Anyways then the mods stepped in and made us break it up. One of the mods (the only one to have read the books) dmed me and told me that they understood my frustration and that another mod was talking to the person I had been fighting with about respecting other people's work but I needed to understand that assuming I was racist and whitewashing wasn't going to be uncommon since the books weren't as popular as the adaptation and I needed to be respectful when people confronted me with this. I replied that if the other person had confronted me directly and not just assumed the worst and edited my work I would have been more respectful. The mod agreed that the other person was out of line, but the whole thing seemed to be one giant misunderstanding so neither of us were getting strikes against us this time.

Anyways, the mods added some rules about not editing people's work and a thing in the announcements channel explaining the differences between the books and the adaptation but everything in the server has been really tense especially since people in the server started vague posting on Tumblr, some people favoring me others favoring the other person. I blocked the person I fought with on Tumblr but neither them nor I were involved in the vague posting.

(also idk if it matters but I'm white, idk the ethnicity of of anyone else involved)

So! Tell me, AITA?

What are these acronyms?

[spookygingerr]

Weekly Tag Game Wednesday

Thanks @heymacy for making this weeks amazing tag game!! And thanks @mybrainismelted for tagging me!!

(disclaimer: there is presently a glitch with tumblr that only allows you to tag 5 people per line in your text posts. to remedy that, you can separate your tags into different lines as i have at the bottom of this post to ensure that everyone that's tagged knows they've been tagged!)

let's get started!

**

name: Al (ice)

age: Nosho minus 1 and add a couple sprinkles

your time zone: GMT + 1

what do you do for work? Sales

do you have any pets? Yes! A black cockapoo called Lola

what first drew you to this fandom? I first watched shameless in December 2022 and started reading fics pretty much straight away. I didn't become active on Tumblr however until about two months ago because I wanted to keep up to date with Africa through @ian-galagher. I then fell in love with the platform and the amazing community and started posting the art I'd been working on!

are you a morning person or a night owl? Morning for sure! I wake up at 6am every day without fail right now..

what are your hobbies? reading fics, reading books, digital art, rewatching shameless, Tumblr, listening to music, gym, cooking

how tall are you? 5' 3"

if you could live anywhere in the world, where would you live? K'Gari Island

favorite color? green

favorite book? The Secret History by Donna Tartt

favorite movie? Perks of Being a Wallflower. It is my ultimate comfort movie

favorite fic? Africa!!

favorite musical artist: Taylor Swift or Mother Mother

what is your average screen time so far this week? too much

what's the first app you open in the morning? Tumblr

how long have you been on tumblr? active? around 2 months?

finally (and i know this one is hard) tell me a fun fact about yourself:

I have had 6 piercings done but currently wear jewellery in none of them. is that fun? probs not!

I am tagging @creepkinginc @comet @jrooc @transmickey @deathclassic

@sam-loves-seb @ian-galagher @transmurderbug @transsexual-dandelions

@zmickmilk @stocious @crossmydna @m4ndysk4nkovich @mickeym4ndy

@bawlbrayker @doshiart @iandarling @suzy-queued @callivich

@gallapiech @blue-disco-lights @spacerockwriting @alexcharmsyou @wehangout

@vintagelacerosette @gallavichsuperfan @gallawitchxx @chicanomick @sweetperversiongirl

@anonymous-galager @tv-obssessions @sluttymickey @rereadanon @especially-fuk-u @lee-ow

@em-harlsnow you nearly escaped the notification my dear!

+anyone else who wants to do it! No pressure if you're tagged, if you don't feel like it just take this as a "hello!"

[frisbys-artwork]

Meet Koobori & Shin

The oldest of five brothers, Koobori was an animal lover from the start, and had his parents take him to zoos almost weekly. Koobori knew he wanted to become a zoologist and conservationist the moment he watched a documentary on an animal network. He also became fascinated by bodybuilding at a young age, and committed to working out to be able to compete in shows, winning 2nd place in a show held in Bushsray at just 17 years old, and became an IFBB Pro by the age of 22, to where he continues to compete to this day when he gets the chance.

Never the type to sit still, if he wasn’t playing sports or actively with his brothers, he was always out traveling the outbacks of Kiwattle, surfing, and diving in reefs; sometimes even volunteering at schools to give wildlife shows to kids.

Shin was born with strong psychic abilities, able to sense the presence of spirits from a young age. For many years he trained as a Kannushi, and was able to banish yurei and yokai from abandoned homes with much ease. At the age of 17 he had decided to join nursing school, since he always enjoyed helping others.

Both met by pure chance. Shin was heading to school when he stopped to check out a large crowd near a convention building, when he spotted Koobori posing for fans and the cameras in all his half naked glory. When he was too shy to get any closer, Koobori practically shoved his way through the crowd to approach Shin and ask him out to the best ramen shop in the city (he described that any trophies and medals he won didn’t matter as much as wanting a date with the Ustonese guy). Shin’s Common was too broken at the time to understand what the Kiwi was saying, but he could tell by the expression alone on the muscular man that he was being asked out. Realizing he was running late, Shin agreed and handed Koobori every form of contact he had, and rushed to school.

Both now have three sons, Giallo (16), Calder (12) and Oshan (9), and expect their triplets (which Kobori promises will be their last kids).

—

Hey guys! Back at it again, and this time with my oldest couple relative to age closeness lol. Yeah, I finally drew an older couple expecting kids, but there’s a reason for that, and that’s because their oldest kid was part of a series of characters I did many, many years ago as the lead of said series. So you can say they aren’t the main characters but that doesn’t matter as I’m not really sure where I’ll head with these two at the moment. I like them a lot, but for further related context Koobori here is actually a modernized drawing of him, now with an improved style and anatomy, design, etc.

Long ago before I came out and before I did much actually characters development, most of my characters were just colorful and there for the sake of being there, so Koobori was married to a woman originally, and so I’ve pretty much decided on redoing the entire characters a new way. Koobori is now married to this guy, who’s an entirely new character, and still has the same amount of kids, only now they’re going to be designed to better suit their designs and origins, etc.

I’ll stop there for now as I want to surprise you guys later on when I get these designs more fleshed out, but I’m happy with this design on Koobori, and I like his hubby. It’s the first time I’ve drawn a fully South Asian characters and damn are they HARD to do.

Here’s the tattoo design on Shin’s shoulder and his badge ID if anyone wanted to get a closer look at them.

Lastly, here’s a comparison of the old and new Koobori. Like wow.

[crookedteethed]

STORM’S be heavy soon (1) Billy the kid

Pairing: Billy the kid x Rich girl reader

Summary: Billy is hired to be the bratty Y/N Bristow guard on a five-day trip to Macon, GA; who knows what may happen on the long trail?

WARNINGS: Original characters, Cursing, reader's last name is "Bristow", mentions of guns, gun usage, reader is snotty, Eventual smut , (gonna add more warnings as I go)

Authors note: Typically I don't write for this show, but this idea popped into my head a few nights ago. Also, I haven't watched this show in months, so I'm just going off my imagination/what I remember. Enjoy!! <3

Word count: 2k

Divider cred → @saradika-graphics

New Mexico, 1881

On Ovid Bristow's hand-crafted cherry wood desk lies the sand color sack of silver dollar coins he'd just offered Billy.

The sack had been plopped on the desk and sat there untouched for a whopping two minutes, two minutes in which Billy been debating if he should take Bristow's offer.

Surely, Billy wanted the money. He could use a new rifle--ou--two new rifles, afford a new pair of boots, and maybe even a new horse--a quarter horse since quarter horses were the best for ridin'.

However, Billy had a sinking suspicion of immorality towards Ovid Bristow a sinking suspicion that boils in the pits of his stomach whenever he sees the aging, gray haired man with a deceitful smile on his face (Billy always smiles back, though). A sinking suspicion that's been brewing in his stomach for a while now.

But to mention this "sinking suspicion" Billy had wasn't suspicion at all; everyone knew Ovid Bristow was cruel; Bristow himself knew he was a cruel man, so he couldn't blame his wrongdoing on his ignorance.

It was just last week Billy had been playing cards with Ovid, along with several other aging gray-haired potbelly men, inside Ovid's new Saloon and Brothel (it used to be the old church house, but Ovid paid the church house's landlord twice as much as Pastor David did to own the building.)

Normando something (Billy had forgotten the man's last name, but it doesn't matter now since he's dead.) claimed he won the game, showing all the men his hand. A royal flush, he had one 10, one Jack, one King, one Queen, and an ace of spades.

Poor Normando; if he hadn't been smiling so hard and gloating about his win, he would've seen it when Ovid drew the gun from his holster. And then that was the end of Normando something, shot in the head by a colt revolver. Ovid said Normando had been cheating; he saw the stash of cards underneath the table.

No one doubted this, as you don't want to provoke the man with a gun in his hand.

In the present moment, Billy thought of this: how cold Ovid had been to murder someone over a card game (a card game?!). Billy imagined what Ovid would do to him--how worse his punishment would be if he: "Lost sight or let anything happen to his darlin'."

And that's where Billy resides in the place of dubiety.

"What? Did ole' Ovid Bristow scare you?" Bristow laughs, a flock of seagull-type laugh; when Billy doesn't join in on the laughter, Ovid suddenly becomes serious.

"Look," Bristow says, standing up from his desk, now face to face with Billy. "I'll give you some more money if that makes you feel any better."

He goes into his left breast jacket pocket, pulling out a rolled-up wad of cash. Bristow tosses the wad of money onto the sack of coins.

"1,500 in total." He says. "It's all there, you can count it."

As callous Ovid been, Billy knew he wasn't a liar. He believed that the sack of coins and the wad of cash had amounted to 1,500.

Billy stayed silent, as silence is the loudest response.

"C'mon, Billy, I wouldn't be asking this of you if I didn't trust you, you're one of the only men I trust, let alone trust you being around my darlin'."

Ovid sits on the edge of his desk with disdain, his stare not particularly on Billy but just above Billy's head.

"I see how those bastards look at my little Y/n at the Saloon, they look at her like she's one of those harlots at the whore house." He spats. "How I wish I can put a bullet through every one of those no good lookers head."

Ovid stands to his feet again.

"But you Billy, you don't stare at my daughter like she's a piece of meat, to you Billy my daughter ceases to exist. I like that about you."

Billy seemed calmed on the outside, but in the inside, he heard the bells ringing in his head.

Of course he looked at you, every man looked at you when you walked by. You were enchanting, the most beautiful woman Billy had ever saw.

Billy did most of his staring when you or your father hadn't been looking. Most of his staring had been from the corner of his eyes or below his hat.

The first thing Billy noticed about you was your bright eyes. They were a pretty shade of (your eye color) that matched your pretty crimson-colored lips and rosy cheeks. You were light on the makeup, which Billy had liked. You'd done your makeup in a way that almost seemed like you weren't wearing makeup at all; Billy liked that about you too. He also liked your elegant collarbones that sat right before your cleavage.

What Billy liked the most about you was that you were educated. You were going to college soon, the first woman Billy had known to do something like that--hell, the first person.

But if it weren't for you getting accepted into Wesleyan College in Macon, GA, Billy wouldn't have been asked to escort you there.

"It's only a week there and week back." Ovid told him at the beginning of the conversation; then Billy had his mindset that he wouldn't take you.

But now, thinking about you--thinking about anyone but himself taking you to Georgia, one of those no-good lookers Ovid described somewhat infuriated Billy.

What if one of them were to take advantage you? Or try to harm you? What if one of them were to kidnap you, take you to one of the many enemies Ovid Bristow have made and hold you for ransom?

Ovid had said it himself, he trusted Billy, so if the job was to be done, Billy was the one to do it.

So as Billy left Ovid Bristow's office, he had the 1,500 stuffed down in his pockets.

Walking Billy to the door, Ovid had his arm snaked around Billy's neck, with a wide smile on his face.

"I knew you wouldn't let ole' Ovid down." He says. Ovid then instructs Billy to arrive at his manor tomorrow by a quarter till seven and pack lightly, as the rest of the wagon is reserved for his "sweet darlin'. "

Leaving Ovid's office, Billy thought he might've seen you inside the waiting room, but it was just that harlot--the one that works at the Brothel that looks like you.

It was 6:45--a quarter till seven when Billy arrived at the Bristow's manor.

Ovid Bristow's riches had been by pure luck. He used to work in the fields, digging holes to plant crops, and one day, he accidentally struck oil. The best kind of accident that could happen to a man.

Ovid Bristow was the Rockefeller of New Mexico.

Approaching the manor, Billy was greeted by a heap of men and women, all housekeepers, butlers, maids, and landscapers, all of whom had been waiting to give Y/n Bristow a farewell. Plus there been a marching band of all men standing at ease.

He didn't know if he could go inside the manor to tell Ovid he'd been here right at a quarter till seven and was lightly packed, because the doors had been locked shut.

So Billy waited with the rest of them, alongside the coachmen who was to take you and him to Georgia. He slips his sack into the back of the wagon.

"Warner." The man introduces himself as, he was a fellow old enough to be Billy's grandfather, Billy questioned Warner's ability to ride for five days straight day and night.

Your entrance was rather grand, ostentatious.

As soon as the white and gold doors flung open, the marching band began to blow their trumpets and bang their drums.

You stood in the doorway, a demure smile on your face, until the marching band's song (which sounded like a bunch of commotion) ended.

"Farewell, my good people, as this is yours truly last day on Bristow's Manor." You spoke dramatically. "Goodbye Nettie, I'll never forget that day you yelled at me for breaking that vase, and then I nearly gotten you fired for raising your voice at me." You waved to an older woman in a maid's uniform, who looked like she was suppressing an eye roll. "Goodbye housekeepers, whom I've never learned the names of, Goodbye Landscapers who kept planting thorn bushes even after I pricked my finger on one when I was five, Goodbye…"

As you continued saying your goodbyes the word "Shallow" was on the tip of Billy's tongue, but he hadn't want to make his judgement. Though he saw you around town, normally accompanied by your father, he hadn't spoken to you yet.

He'd been too scared he'd get shot or beaten by Ovid for simply saying a "Hello" to you.

Ovid had been beside you as you said your goodbyes, carrying a round pink leather suitcase, presumably yours. Behind the both of you were two butlers carrying the rest of your luggage—ten suitcases in counting, all pink, some round, some rectangular.

"Jesus Christ." Billy mutters to himself.

"Goodbye--" you stop in front of Billy, scanning his face--those dark curls and dark blue eyes--wondering what was his occupation on the manor. He'd look familiar to you, but then again he didn't.

Trashman? The stableman? Daddies assistant? No, he was to ruffian like to be Daddies assistant.

Then you suddenly remember--yes, that's who he is.

"Farewell, stablehand, I don't have any memories of you, but I shall wish you the best of luck cleaning shit for the rest of your life at Daddies stable." You smile.

A scowl had formed on Billy's lip.

That shallow bit-

His thinking is cut off by Ovid's laughter. "My sweet darlin, this isn't the stablehand, this is Billy. Billy here's a gunslinger. I hired him to keep you safe on the trail to Georgia."

You hum, a slight smirk on your lips. You raised your dainty hand to Billy and introduce yourself.

Billy puts his rough hands in your warm, smooth ones. You feel a jolt run through body, you wonder if Billy felt the jolt too.

It wasn't like you didn't know his name now, so Billy just tipped his hat and called you “Misses.”

"Fantastic," Ovid says with a deceiving smile. "Darlin', why don't you make yourself comfortable inside the wagon while Billy and I exchange a few words," Ovid tells you. "And gentlemen, why don't you start loading up darlin's luggage," Ovid instructs the butlers.

As you get onto the wagon (with the help of Warner) and the butlers start loading your things, Ovid pulls Billy to the side by the scruff of his neck.

"Now, remember yesterday I said I trust you, Billy. Darlin's all I got, Billy, it be a shame if something were to happen to her while she's in your care… It be even more of a shame what'll happen to you." Ovid says in a calm voice.

"Promise me that you'll take good care of her during those five days, promise me that Billy."

"I promise, sir." Billy says, looking at you from afar, you yell at the butlers for "manhandling" your "valuables."

Ovid catches Billy staring. "Also, Billy hear this, I know my daughters a pretty girl--she gets her looks from her late mama--god rest her soul, but I swear if you even must lay a finger on her with the intent of lust; I'll have you castrated, you got that boy?"

Billy thought about it , walking around town without his manhood, be known as the man without a cock.

"Y-yes sir." he sweats.

"Good!" Ovid exclaimed, letting Billy go.

"Daddy!" You yelled "I'm not getting any younger here!" You say impatiently.

Then, as you, Billy, and old man Warner left the gates of Bristow Manor, the marching band played another loud commotion. The blaring drums and tubas still ranged in Billy's ears as you all were 2-3 miles down the road.

Billy looked at you, cocking his head--you'd been filing your nails.

A Rose thorn bush, Billy labeled you--so amusing to look at, tempting to touch; when he felt the courage to touch it, he'd realize he gotten pricked and was starting to draw blood.

*I plan on making this a two part series*

[timemajesty]

So, today on November 5th, 10 years ago I made an OC for the game called Super Mario RPG. Ever since then, I've worked on him and poured so much love, sweat, tears, money and even blood into making this OC into what he is today. Not my typical type of post on here, but it's important for me to share just how much Erbin has grown as a character.

Erbin was originally created for the purposes of coping with a lot of awful things that happen in my childhood, but I never had resources or anything to draw him or get art of him, so until around 7 years ago he didn't even have any artwork to his name. I just always had so much written up pieces about him, all this information, all these little stories, and especially a lot of ship fanfics. I made him to ship with Geno, which I know is very basic nowadays, basically everyone ships an OC with Geno, but I don't care for being basic.

His first design, is awful I won't lie, I didn't know what I was doing as a character designer back then. Most of his much older art is so old, I cannot find any traces of the artists who drew a lot of them for me, so I apologize in advance for that.

Art was originally made by someone known as SweetRaccon on Amino.

Gawd, his old design. Back when he had pink hair, a much larger crown, no nose and no ears. He was also really slim back then, and also his story was a lot more different, and not good. I'll be honest and say, I kinda originally wrote him to be a projection of what my abusive ex was, a horrible person who didn't care about others if it meant getting what he wanted and I admit that I don't think that was healthy for me to do, and I've grown and I know now that projecting is okay but if you want an OC to be very much your own thing you probably shouldn't project too much onto them.

This was also the era of which I started becoming more serious with his character, adding more details into his story and giving him actual information, such as an age, a family, stuff like that.

Original art by my boyfriend.

Ah, his second design. It's still not the best but it was better. Back then I had figured out his height, some characteristics to his design and overall fixed some stuff; such as I gave him a nose and ears, and his hair wasn't completely pink, this was also around the same time that FNF was getting popular and everyone and their mothers kept comparing him to the mom from that game, to this day I will never understand that because I just don't see the similarities at all, other than the skin color.

This was probably the time in my life where I started to develop a lot of my bad writing habits, especially my habit of giving up when I feel like something I write isn't perfect; it's kinda an issue and still is to this day, and you can probably understand why I don't post him often because of that. What I will say though is that back then I had fleshed out his story to be less of just "haha he's my ex but as an OC" to "Oh, he's a very troubled and fascinating character who I changed up to not be an abuser." I'll be honest, I regret ever making him anything like my abuser.

Original art by Facade on Discord ( @toastee-roastee )

The current design, the current era.

This is when I started to develop more of his relationship with Geno, instead of Erbin being nothing but a flirty bastard with Geno; he's now someone who had to earn Geno's trust back after Geno had learned about Erbin's affiliation with the Smithy Gang. Which, let's talk about that, I don't talk about his lore enough. So here it is, the definitive and complete story of Erbin's backstory.

Once upon a time, there was a God and a Shadow Siren. They didn't love one another, the God knew he loved someone else but fate kept them apart and forced him to be with this Shadow Siren. When they decided to have a kid to keep the Gods' legacy in tact, they realized they didn't have the time or resources to care for a child. So this God, Culex, decided to give the child to a tyrant, none other than Smithy; who begrudgingly accepted Culex's request and took in baby Erbin, raising him as if he was one of the Smithy Gang members.

It didn't take long for Erbin to start being an annoyance around the Factory, he had known from a young age about how his father abandoned him which made him grow up as a troublemaker. After 30 years of suffering from abuse, burns and scars from machines, and constantly being yelled at...Erbin had enough, that's when Mario and his group of heroes destroyed Smithy, and that's when Erbin took that opportunity to steal Smithy's crown and escape the Weapons World, claiming an abandoned castle deep into the Forest Maze as his home.

It wasn't long before he met one of those heroes, Geno, who had been ordered to take care of any remaining Smithy Gang soldiers that lurked Mario's World, the rest is history.

More art from my boyfriend.

When I tell you this OC means everything to me, I mean it. He's been with me through it all, ever since the start of an abusive relationship with my ex all the way to today, where my life is a lot better and I have an amazing partner and an awesome friend group. To everyone who's been in this journey of helping me make Erbin the character he is today, thank you. You mean just as much as Erbin means to me, which is a lot. I wouldn't be here without this OC and I definitely wouldn't be who I am today without him, he brought me so many memories and I can't wait to make more with him. I may post more for him today, today is his special day.

Oh and it's election day so like, vote for Erbin lmao.

[granulesofsand]

Cotton Candy Blue

🗝️🏷️ themes of death

Jewelry is important to us. We have the bracelet that was our wristband to life at 16, the necklace one of our mother’s alters gave us before going dormant, the rings that lent us rank. We also had, or I did, a golden heart-shaped locket. I thought it was a locket, but I’d never managed to open it. A thin gold chain with a tiny pendant. A twisted silver cord with a cross a littlie replaced with a cast wolf. Wooden beads on an orange cord. Plastic tied in green and purple, too short to wear even as a child. Trinkets like those tell stories, hold memories I’ve never shared.

We store memories in material goods, and when we lose them so goes the time it held. I remember one now, but I don’t know when I will again.

I knew a child, as many children do. She had a name, was out enough that passerbys likely assumed her a daughter of the only family of her shade. She liked blue cotton candy and the tiny rollercoaster from the storage unit. That was the last I saw her, the fundraiser as the dark drew in. Blue shirt and twin puffs, turning to run back into line for the little truck. I was too big for it then, but we were around the same age. She should have been safe, a child with clothes on her back and English in her mouth. I know not where they took her or what was done, just that she cried out as she was taken. They didn’t let me turn around.

I kept her hair tie for years. Also blue, a clothed rubber band with candy colored beads. I heard them when she smiled and turned, and they did not take it with them wherever they went. It held the story of her life, while the other saw her death. I assume that’s what happened, with drunk men and a girl who never returned.

That’s not the whole story. I don’t know the whole story. I’m not sure how accurately I’ve told it now. But a child here wears her hair in those same poofs, and another found a blue sweater to go with her skirt. Between the two of them, I can see her. Not quite as she was, I’m sure. Neither are that close. But that was many years ago. Maybe she got away.

[spiralstereo]

ー I'll miss you! Or not.

⚠️ tw! verbal abuse, mentions of emotional & physical abuse, child abuse, blood, gore, violence, cursing, etc.

Firework was always considered an odd woman. Never particularly all that feminine, never interested in men & such, she was... a black sheep, to say the least.

She felt alone for most of her life, despite being surrounded by citizens & servants, & an empty, unloving family. Even that was rather small. Just her, her brother, a couple half-siblings, & her parents. Nobody really cared for each other.

She was also born rather late, all her siblings were adults. Her parents made up their minds to spawn another.. a little too late. But no matter! Here she was.

Her eldest & only blood, fully related sibling seemed to despise her though. Revolver was his name, a grand, elegant gazelle who just so happened to be heir to the throne. He had definitely let that get to his head, & that only seemed to fuel his overinflated ego.

This! That! He was barking orders everywhere, all the time. How he treated his poor son too... she could only feel terrible for the poor boy. He just wanted to make that monster of a man proud, she was ashamed to call him her brother.

This went on for years, decades. She watched him divorce wife after wife, spawn more kids only for them to hate his son, his heir. & all she could do was stand & watch. She hated it.

Well that was, until today.

It was her nephew's birthday, he was a man now. Unfortunately though, a year or so ago a traumatic accident had happened, leaving half of his face absolutely broken. He was fine, but scarred, emotionally & physically.

He seemed to be having a good time, but that was probably because he was away from his sorry excuse of a father. Either way, she was happy. He was having a good time.

His father in question though...

The man was drunk, without a care in the world he was sitting in his little private area, laughing away with his so called 'friends'. So unsuspecting. This was almost too easy. He wife, which once was this- the seventh? She was there aswell, sitting beside him like an obedient dog. They both looked so pathetic.

She decided to wait in the doorway for... an opportunity. That opportunity took hours for it to come, but eventually, it came.

They left. It was just him. Him & her, alone.

A smile crept onto her face, & she watched as he just sat there, watching the night sky & how it filled up with bursts of color, fireworks. She slowly drew out her 'umbrella', approaching her beloved brother.

"Lovely, aren't they?"

A scowl grew on his face. Although she couldn't see his face, she knew it was there.

"The hell do ya want with me?"

She chuckled, halting right before she got to him, looming over him.

"Nothin, nothin. Just wanted ta say some things before ya had ta go."

"Quit bein ominous. Yer not funny."

"Am I? I didn't think I was bein ominous at all! Yer loosin it."

He swung around, a glare, a deep scowl on his aged & defined face. He saw her expression, & he saw how she was leaning up against his seat. He also saw her 'umbrella' out.

"What the fuck are ya doin? Don' play dumb." His voice was noticeably more hostile. He got up to his feet, causing Firework to scramble up aswell. She just laughed.

"Sayin things before ya go! Exactly what I said. I ain't playin dumb, yer the one who ain't pickin up what I'm puttin down. Maybe that's why everybody's better off with ya fuckin gone, eh?"

The two began circling each other, the already growing sense of hostility & hatred between them growing more intense & noticeable by the moment.

"The hell's up yer ass? Knock it the fuck out before I knock it out of ya myself."

"Put yer fuckin hands on me & I'll make sure they keep findin pieces of ya."

Thats when Revolver let out an angered scream, charging at her. He knocked her back, but not off of her feet. She pushed & shoved back, yanking his horns & throwing him back, right on the stone railing of the balcony, the cold breeze sweeping beneath their feet.

She lunged at him, trying to wedge the end of her 'umbrella' into his chest, as he flailed & screamed bloody murder. So much for a king. They continued to thrash around, kicking & knocking each other, pulling on each other's horns & clothes- trying to do anything to get on top.

Firework eventually knocked him to the ground, his head hitting the stone first. Instead of trying to stomp on his head or leaving him there, she grabbed him by the collar, yanking him up & pinning him up against the ledge of the balcony, pointing the end of her 'umbrella' at the back of his head.

"Enjoy hell."

As she 'opened' her 'umbrella', a firework shot down the barrel in her 'umbrella', blowing his head clean off. Blood splattered everywhere, the balcony, the walls, & all over her.

She wasn't bothered though. She just tossed what was left of him off the edge, dusting off her bloodied shoulders.

She had finally gotten rid of him.