#i’m actually so proud of that shading like holy damn how’d I do that

[doodle-girl]

“HELLO, THERE”

You may not know me, but I certainly know you. You can call me Ragstra. If you're looking for Lankmann, I'm afraid he's not here right now. I put him away for safe keeping. And I'd prefer to have a word with this lovely audience in-person without any interruption.

You see now, this channel doesn't belong to Lankmann anymore, but to me from here on! Lankmann had the bright idea to pull me out of the spotlight and abandon me after he grew to adore that STUPID LITTLE YELLOW GREMLIN! And personally, I disagree with that casting choice. No, in fact I have my own plans for what's going to happen to him and this little channel of his, and you're going to help me craft it. I'd like to put on a little show for all of you, one that will decide your dear sweet Lankmann's fate.

Now mind you all, this little show of mine is still in preparation, so for now I'll continue to let Lankmann make his content under MY script for a little while. Until then, just think of me as his director, carefully puppeting what videos he makes and what his audience does very closely. I'm looking forward to whatever little productions we craft together, and I certainly hope you'll be there when my show is ready. After all, his life may depend on it, heheheee. Goodbye for now, my dolls."

Sooooo in case you didn’t already catch on by their recent post, @corrupteddoodles and I have been cooking a lot recently. Say hello to the Pastra Arg swap au, aka the “Ragstra’s Show AU”!!! Yippee!!! Featuring Corrupted’s own super-cool super-gender ragdoll design of the beloved purple monster, who’s been otherwise dubbed as “Ragstra” (I like to call them Raggy :3). Personally this au may or may not butt heads with my sitcom au obsession lmao.

Bonus meme because this is basically what this au stemmed from lmao:

(Also big kudos to corrupted for helping with some alt text thank you pookie 👍 <3)

[funeral-clown]

for @demibuckybarnes what is a birthday? a miserable pile of presents given two days too late

heart emojis

The strange thing about Gotham was how it affected your sleep pattern.

You could simultaneously sleep through a bomb going off a few blocks away, and wake up at the slightest rustle outside your window.

The quiet and reserved citizens slept at night, the rowdy and bloodthirsty slept during the day, and the wise rarely slept at all. With all the smog, sometimes it was hard to tell the difference anyway. 

Champ slept a devil’s slumber, deep and dreaming, unbothered by guilt or fear, every time they remembered to sleep. Their bunker had no windows. They were not asleep right now. They were creeping through the dark parts of the city, dodging the troublesome elements of the streets easily enough and slipping past the criminal element. It was the daytime, all the criminals awake were either rich or desperately poor. Neither were something they could put a stop to. 

They sidled closer to their goal, scarf wrapped warm and thick around their face, warm knit cap pulled down over ears and nearly over eyes. Their fingers were bared by the ratty gloves. The door’s bell merrily announced their presence to those inside. They ambled to the door with grim purpose, a look of fierce determination in their eyes.

“Hello,” they said cheerily, “I’ve come to pick up an order?”

The bored man behind the counter nodded.

“Name?” 

“Pennyworth.”

He grunted, then disappeared for a moment. When he returned he had a white box. Placing it on the glass counter, he flipped the lid up for a moment before quickly, delicately placing it back down.

“Wasn’t easy, gettin’ it done like that.”

They hummed, an acknowledgement.

“You were paid well enough, weren’t you?”

He grunted, his own acknowledgement.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get your tip.”

The man’s dreary countenance brightened somewhat.

“Be careful lugging that thing around. Don’t want anything.......destroyed.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” they delicately took the package into their own hands, nodded at the man, “These are some of the most careful hands in Gotham.”

The man merely grunted again, and tactfully made no response to that. Truthfully, he had none. With the gait of an altar boy, holding something holy and delicate, they made their way out of the shop. The man watched idly as they began their journey, before grunting again to himself and flipping his magazine back open, once again settled into his boredom.

Meanwhile, Champ made their way down the street, hands cautiously continually readjusting themselves. Too tight, and it could cause a problem. Too loose, and they could drop it, and cause a REAL problem. Too shaky? Another potential problem. They had a ways to take this haul, and mostly on foot. Champ couldn’t deny the weight of the responsibility on them, but running errands for either of their fathers came with risk.

They nudged their ear with their shoulder, muttering into the comm unit. 

“Jason. Package obtained. Delivery in progress.”

There was a muffled crackle in their ear before a reply.

“Acknowledged. Eyes are on the target. They don’t suspect a damn thing.”

“Easy, J-man. Let’s not get too cocky.”

“This from you?”

Champ let out a short harsh laugh, still cautiously maneuvering down the street.

“This isn’t our usual gig, Todd.”

“No,” came a terse reply. “This isn’t.”

“Wow,” came an unexpected third voice, “You guys sound so intense. What is this, a Bruce Impression Contest?”

Champ groaned.

“Tim, how can you even say that? On this, of all days.”

A cackle came through the line.

“Figured you could use the levity. I’m on the roof, by the way. To your left. See me waving at you? I’m here to take care of any distractions.”

Champ carefully eased one hand from the box to flip off the roof.

“Other left.”

Champ sighed.

“This is why I work alone, Tim. You’re the distraction.”

“Oh so this IS a Bruce Impression Contest?”

“How’d I do?”

“Needs a bit more bass.”

“My voice can only go so low, would more gravel suffice?”

“Guys,” Jason interjected, “Focus. Besides. My Bruce Impression is way better.”

Twin scoffs came through his ear piece.

-

Allison was having a very strange day.

That in itself was not so unusual, life in Gotham was strange even if you didn’t have vigilantes crawling through your windows at all hours of day and night.

And they rarely remembered to wipe their feet.

It was the vigilantes themselves that were making today unusual. Notably, the absence of them. Most days, she couldn’t wake up without someone crashing their way through the kitchen, or snoring on the couch, or -god forbid- bleeding in the bathroom, trying to stitch themselves up with dental floss.

(Why dental floss, when she had asked Champ, had been answered with to keep their flesh wounds minty fresh. She had thrown a bar of soap at them and called Alfred to take them home.)

Today, when she woke up, it was to a clean and empty apartment. It was unsettling.

More unsettling when she came into the kitchen and found it, not only un-ransacked, but cleaner than when she had fallen asleep. There was a plate on the table, held under a cloche. Curious, she lifted it to find an assortment of breakfast, as well as a small note.

‘The first of many gifts. A.’

There was a small flower laid in between the cutlery and the orange juice. She lifted it up, touching the soft petals.

“Huh,” she muttered.

A knock came at the door, suspiciously soon after she had finished her breakfast and put the dishes in the sink.

It wasn’t a surprise when she opened it to find Dick waiting. It was a surprise that someone had actually knocked.

“Is this a parallel universe?”

Dick frowned, head cocked to the side.

“Don’t think so. Why, has anyone tried to homoerotically recruit you? That’s usually my tell.”

“That happens to you in this universe.”

“Beauty is a curse.”

“What’s going on, loser?”

He grinned.

“Can’t tell, or secret snipers will kill me.”

She rolled her eyes.

“No, really!” He walked the the small window in the kitchenette and waved cheerfully at the top of the adjacent building. A small red dot appeared on his shoulder. Allison opened her mouth to ask more, then firmly closed it lest she say something inciting.

Are we okay, she mouthed.

Dick winked.

Jason. Laser pointer.

Allison groaned, then shoved his shoulder while he laughed.

“I was really worried!”

“So am I! He still might really shoot me, it’s Jason.”

The laser made it’s way from his shoulder to his head, blinking playfully. She rolled her eyes.

“What are you doing here, anyway?”

His grin went loose and lopsided, entire body relaxing into it. He gave a short, theatrical bow.

“I’m here to escort you through the day.”

“You’re gonna walk me to work?”

His face filled with sorrow.

“I regret to inform you that you are very sick.”

“I’m what?”

“You’re extremely, contagiously ill and you therefore cannot make it into work today.”

“Dick-”

“In fact, we’ve already called ahead and told them. You forwarded them your doctor’s note even.”

“Jesus.”

“No, it was Barbara.”

“Dammit, Dick, what’s going on?”

He practically vibrated with excitement, bouncing on his toes like a child.

“It’s a surprise.”

“I hate surprises!”

“I know,” he lilted, before grabbing her hand and coaxing her to the door, “So we’d better hurry up and get through it all so we can get the surprise part over with!”

Groaning, she relented.

-

When they finally made it to the house, Alfred ushered them in through the back door.

“Dick’s dragging her all over town doing touristy shit,” they reported dutifully, “and I got the package here unharmed.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“That,” he chided, though not unkindly, “Remains to be seen.”

Flushing under their scarf, they placed the box on the table. Gently, the butler lifted the lid. Champ and Tim’s breath was caught in their throats. Alfred looked nonplussed in that exact shade of unbothered that meant he was two seconds away from a heart attack. With the easy precision of a man well acquainted with weapons, he eased it up and deftly set it away to inspect it’s contents. Champ’s heart hammered in their throat. He sighed, and they felt their body freeze.

“I’m s-”

“It’s perfect.”

They paused.

“What?”

“Perfectly well done, dear. Not even any smudges along the edges.”

They let out a proud cry of delight, jumping up and down happily before grabbing Tim in a hug and dancing him around the kitchen. Alfred watched patiently at the two laughed and spun. Bruce ambled in nonchalantly, eating an apple and nursing a black eye.

“Take it the cake got here alright?”

Alfred nodded.

“Hmm.”

He sunk back into the shadows.

They spent the rest of the day preparing the mansion, hanging decorations and hiding presents and bothering Alfred while he cooked until he chased them off with a wooden spoon so they would go and clamber on Bruce instead. Midway through the afternoon Jason showed up, informing them all that they had another hour.

By the time Dick sauntered up the steps with Allison in tow, the entire house was dark and still. This is and of itself was unnerving, as lately the place was usually crawling with extremely loud and energetic people.

“Is anyone home?”

Dick shrugged, grinning.

She creaked open the back entrance. The house had several entrances, the back one being the entrance into the kitchen, originally designated for servants and food delivery in such a way as to be discreet. Now it was merely the family entrance. And also where the food delivery happened. The more things change the more they stay the same.

It was dark, and quiet, and Alli got a sudden impression that it was filled with unseen life. Before she had time to be scared, the lights turned on and loud noisemakers came from everywhere. Champ grabbed her around the waist and twirled her around in a happy hug.

“Dude, did you think we’d forget your birthday?”

Alli laughed.

The whole family was there. Clark smiled politely from the table. Bane was tucked into a corner, glowering calmly with a small but very brightly colored party hat that suggested he was here at Champ’s insistence and determined to enjoy himself. Talia leaned against him. Bruce sighed as the robins all flitted around the room with noisemakers being as loud as possible. Jason grabbed Allison from Champ and gave her his own spin. Dick silently slipped his own party hat on from his pocket, standing next to Alfred with his hat. The house was instantly transformed into a bright and colorful whirlwind of warmth and laughter and food. Allison laughed, steadying herself against her friend.

“Thank you all, for this. Thank you.”

A round of raucous cheers and kazoo noises greeted her.

“But there’s something I have to say, and please know that nothing will change what you’ve all done for me.”

An anticipatory hush fell over the crowd.

“I love you all so much, and this means more than I could possibly say.”

Jason hid his grin behind his hand.

“But my birthday was two days ago.”

A stunned silence rushed the room. It was broken by Jason’s loud laughter.

“They were so sure,” he wheezed out, “They were so proud of themselves I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t tell them.”

Champ punched his sternum.

“DAMMIT.”

Allison laughed.