#mostly just small ideas/moments I wanted to draw but had no idea where to put them in

[hoodiehorizon]

Some low quality BARA au doodles for your enjoyment and mine :)

[wellgoslowly]

Hello! I was wondering if I can get a request please. The reader works for Lockwood and Co but she has the complete opposite personality of what Lockwood has (ex: reader is more of listener rather than a talker and when she is around new people she is more on the quiet side until she gets comfortable around them) and Lockwood falls for the reader. Thank you!

Ain't a Life a Many Splendored Thing?

a/n: a bit of a shorter post but I think I might make it into a series!! I loved this prompt and I loved writing it sm!!! it's not much but I didn't want to write more before knowing if yall would want a part 2 :) also yes the title is from hello hello by elton john from the hit movie gnomeo and juliet.

pairing: lockwood x fem!reader

word count: 1.4k

warnings: none :)

tags: @hufflepuff1619 (thank you for the request!) @oblivious-idiot @tangledinlove @ikeasupremacy @givemea-dam-break @neewtmas [if u guys want to be put on a tag list just lmk in the comments!!! also if i missed anyone im sorry!!!!]

The moment that you stepped into 35 Portland Row for your interview, it was obvious to everyone that Lockwood was a goner.

You two were clearly exact opposites- where he was confident and cocky, you seemed more reserved and humble. Where he was reckless, you seemed calculated and exact. And it was now evident that while he found it natural to talk in order to prevent awkward silences around new people (especially those whom he found to be very attractive), you were perfectly comfortable with listening to him ramble.

“And right up here is the attic.” He was saying now as the two of you climbed up the creaking stairs. “You've met Lucy, obviously- this is her room. And yours as well, if you choose to live here.” He watched you take in the room, filled with Lucy's drawings and scarce decorations on the walls, your eyes lingering on the small bed hastily shoved in the corner. He looked at you with apprehension, admittedly a little worried that you would turn to him and say that you'd changed your mind and reject the employment offer.

Instead, you turned to him with a slight smile on your face and said, “Is it ok with Lucy? If I stay here?” Instantly, Lockwood was filled with relief. “It was her idea, actually.” He said softly, watching you nod in understanding. “Alright then.” You said, a sense of finality in your voice. Lockwood smiled and watched as you walked to set the small bag of belongings you had taken to your interview on top of your new bed. “I'll leave you to it, then. Dinner should be ready soon.” He said to you. You didn't respond, but Lockwood wasn't worried- he knew exactly what your soft smile was meant to convey.

------

“Lockwood, I just- I don't know if she fits here.” It had been only 3 days after you had officially joined Lockwood & Co., but Lockwood wasn't necessarily surprised by the remark George threw him from across the table that morning. You and Lucy were asleep, still tired after facing an infuriating ambush from a large cluster of Type Ones while on a Type Two case.

“What do you mean, George?” Lockwood asked as he took a sip of his tea. “I mean, she's just so quiet. She never speaks, and when she does it's either in one word responses or a couple phrases- even then, she mostly only ever talks to you. I'm just worried about how well she'll be able to communicate in the future.” George explained, his hands moving wildly about.

“You haven't seen her in the field, George- she's brilliant. Her sight is comparable to mine, and her touch… it's like Lucy with her Listening. Yes, she's a bit… reserved, but I'm sure she just needs to warm up to us, is all.” Lockwood smiled at his friend as he took another sip of tea, peeling open the front page of a new issue of True Hauntings.

“Don't think I didn't notice how you avoided the comment about how she only seems to talk to you.” George grumbled, taking a bite out of a piece of toast. Lockwood didn't look up from the text on the page in front of him as he mumbled a soft “I don't know what you're talking about.” George scoffed in response, starting to say something that sounded a lot like “you're clearly gone for her, why do I even try”, when you walked in, hair amess and blinking sleep out of your eyes.

The kitchen fell into immediate silence, George's face flushing in embarrassment as you looked at him, your expression unreadable. “If you're going to talk about me, you could at least do it while I'm around.” Lockwood looked up at that as he didn't notice you silently entering the kitchen. He took in your sleep-addled state and the look of fear in George's eyes. And then you were softly smiling. “I was joking, sorry. Didn't mean to scare you.” You said before sitting down next to Lockwood.

George snorted. “I think that's the most you've said to me the entire time you've been here.” George said, apparently taking your joke to heart. Lockwood softly kicked George under the table, but you just laughed a little.

Deciding to change the subject, Lockwood turned to you with a smile. “I'm sorry for him. What he meant to say was good morning. Would you like some tea?” You smiled at Lockwood, and he was hit with the thought that it mightve been the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. “Yes, please.” You responded. Lockwood nodded, getting up to turn the kettle on once more.

The morning passed like that- you and George softly trading barbs with one another, Lockwood making you your tea and toast, and Lucy stumbling in once you were almost done with breakfast and mumbling a “gmornin” to you and the boys. Soon, the discussion turned from an easygoing conversation over breakfast and lapsed into a more serious discussion as Lockwood started explaining the cases that you all had scheduled for that night.

You and Lockwood would be going out to a house that was reported to contain a Type Two and a couple Type Ones, George would be staying home to do some research for a bigger case the four of you had coming up the next week (he had also gotten injured a couple of days ago and his wound hadn't fully healed), and Lucy would be going to an office afflicted by a couple Type Ones.

Lockwood had been too busy dishing out the information for the night's events to realize that you hadn't been talking. It was only after Lucy and George had nodded in understanding and set out to set their own respective tasks- Lucy heading down to the basement and George getting ready to go to the Archives- when Lockwood looked to you and realized that you had been drawing on the Thinking Cloth the entire time.

He leaned over slightly, watching as you drew a small landscape on a tiny piece of empty space with a green pen that Lockwood wasn't sure he had ever seen before. He smiled as you drew, watching the concentration on your face. “Did you hear the cases for tonight?” He asked softly, watching the quirk at the corner of your lips.

“George is doing research, Lucy's got a couple of Type Ones, and you and me have got the Type Two.” You clicked your pen, signaling that you were finished with your drawing, and then you turned to look at Lockwood. “How'd I do?” You asked softly. “With the cases, or the drawing?” You shrugged, a look in your eyes that told him “both.” He smiled. “Excellent.” He whispered, making you smile.

Eventually, the two of you migrated from the kitchen to the library. Lockwood sat in his favorite armchair, surveying a stack of recent magazines as he decided which one to read first. You left the room quickly, and Lockwood frowned at your departure as he settled into the chair with a week old gossip rag.

But as quickly as you left, you had returned, a book in your hand as you sat down in the chair next to Lockwood. You two sat there for a while, Lockwood taking breaks to explain to you different London Society news while you happily listened and Lockwood smiling to himself every time you reached a point in your book that made you laugh or make some sort of exclamation of disbelief.

He was content, he realized, to just sit there and exist by your side. While he normally felt the need to make his presence known, to charm and impress anyone he might’ve just met, he found that he was very happy to just sit and read with you.

An hour or so later, Lockwood decided that he wanted to go down to the basement and get some training in before the case that night. He was about to ask you if you'd care to join before he noticed that you had fallen asleep, arms curled around your legs and head laying peacefully against the cushioning of the chair. He smiled as he closed his magazine, getting up slowly and draping a blanket over you without a sound.

As Lockwood walked out of the library, he realized that George had been right. Not about you not fitting in- no, you had definitely proven George wrong. Instead, he was forced to admit that George might've been right about Lockwood being gone for you.

hehehe thanks for reading!!! I just put in my 2 weeks at my soul sucking part time job so I'll hopefully have more motivation to work on these hehe!!! I'll also be making a masterlist very soon- I've been meaning to do that for a while

also if yall want a part 2, pls lmk! I loved writing this and I think I could do a lot more w it hehehehe. anywhom if you've read this far, thank you for reading!!! love u!

mwah, linnie

[frozenjokes]

do we think cannibalism is a good idea yet? please? please do cannibalism?

“Hey, you okay, Mumbo? Can I come up? I’m thinking I’m going to come up regardless of what you say, but I’d like it if you just said yes.”

It was Scar. Mumbo said nothing. Scar hit his head twice attempting to get in with a trident, but made it on the third go, sighing with a dramatic ‘whew!’ There was a small silence in the wake of Scar’s arrival, causing the same agony Mumbo was sure Cub experienced when Mumbo smashed his ribs.

“Guess he told you,” Mumbo muttered, resigned to this outcome. Cub would tell Scar, Scar would push for more answers, and eventually the whole damn server would know something was wrong, not that they could do anything about it. Mumbo would not leave. Not until his shadow had its way.

“Cub told me you were really upset, yeah. Said he didn’t know why,” Scar shrugged, “Told me he thought you needed a friend. So here I am.”

“Ah,” Mumbo couldn’t even manage the noise without his voice slipping in a soft crack. Scar stepped toward the bed where Mumbo was curled up, moving to take his hand, then letting it go when Mumbo flinched.

“Tell me what’s on your mind,” Scar said, so impossibly gentle, and while Mumbo most certainly would not, he didn’t want to say nothing; he didn’t think he could just say nothing, it was too much.

“I think I’m- I’m very ill. I’m having a- a crisis, I think. Mentally. I’m not well. I’m really not well.”

Scar hummed, low and thoughtful, “Want a hug? I could lay down with you, no need to sit up.”

“I don’t want to face you.”

“That’s not a problem.”

“I-Okay. I’m just. I’m just going to stay here. I’m just going to stay here.”

Mumbo felt the bed dip beside him, Scar muttering a soft, “Alright,” before sliding in and holding him in a gentle spoon. It was nice feeling Scar behind him, warm even through the blanket that separated them. Slowly, Mumbo let that heat consume him, felt his heart rate slow. And then out of nowhere it seemed, wretchedly, he started to sob. It was not unusual for Mumbo to cry, though most of his grief was saved for the end of worlds, the friends he’d never see again. So much of his focus was dedicated to staying in the moment, distracting himself, putting one foot in front of the other; stopping to sob was a waste of energy, a waste of resolve. It was giving up. And Mumbo was aware of what was coming, he knew it, but in each new world acceptance came later, the moment where the gravity of his soon-to-end life hit him harder each time, and today, it was hitting now. He could delude himself all he wanted that he’d hold on until the end of the season, but he knew he wouldn’t make it. He would hardly be able to stand more than a month of this. It was over. Maybe it’d be better to bite the bullet now. Stop drawing out his own suffering and deal with the hurt after it was done.

How selfish was that, with Scar at his back. With monstrous effort, he ground down the thought that this would be the ideal way to do it; turning around and tearing through Scar’s chest, disabling any means of fighting back, then taking his damned time. Mumbo cried harder when Scar followed his arm down to his hand, rubbing circles with his thumb into the back.

He would wait.

“Please tell Cub to leave me alone. I don’t know what he wants, I don’t care, I just don’t want to see him anymore. For the rest of the season, I don’t want to see him.”

“He wants you to eat him.”

Mumbo stiffened, a short, strangled sound crawling from his throat, but Scar shushed him gently, holding Mumbo’s hand tighter in turn.

“Just listen, lay here with me and listen before you freak out, alright?” Scar's voice was little more than a whisper, gentle force at Mumbo’s side serving to keep him still and as calm as he could stand to be.

“Why?” Mumbo croaked out, and felt Scar gesture vaguely with his head.

“He’s worried, mostly. He gets in his head about things, and he’s trying to solve them but he- well, he’s not the most tactful guy sometimes. I think he got scared when he saw you at the start of season ten; the last time he’d really seen you was after your break when you looked really bad.. He’s worried things are going to escalate to the point they did before, so he’s uh.. decided he’s gonna fix it. With cannibalism. When he’s talking about it to me it makes a lot of sense, but uh.. I mean, I guess it’s a little out there..”

“How do I make him stop. You have to- Scar, please make him stop.” Mumbo felt himself quivering in Scar’s hold, be it from fear or anger, he did not know.

“Oh, he won’t take it from me. I mean, he would if I was the guy he was trying to convince to eat other people, but he doesn’t always take secondhand advice like that. In this case, he’s way too zeroed in. You have to do it.”

“Well- fine. I’ll do it then, I’ll do it right now-“ Mumbo wriggled in Scar’s grip, but he held fast.

“Wait a minute- Not like that, no, not like that.” Scar almost laughed, but there was a little more stress there than anything.

“Not like what?” Mumbo huffed, annoyed. He pushed one last struggle, but gave in when Scar didn’t let go.

“You’ve got to be straight with Cub, you’ll put him off if you go about this too.. emotionally charged, let’s say. I’ll tell you exactly how to do it, I want to help you, Mumbo.”

Mumbo took a breath, then forced himself to relax, “Okay. Tell me. Please.”

Mumbo felt Scar straighten up behind him, then clear his throat, like he was about to address a crowd. “First, you gotta be as close to emotionless as you can make yourself. Fire up the coldest, deadest soul you can manage, and talk to him like you’ve just found out a close friend from like ten years ago got really sick, like really sick, terminal, and you don’t really know what to do, but the messenger of the news is looking awkward so you tell them it’s okay, it’s fine, but you don’t really feel fine, you know, your old friend is-“

“I understand, Scar,” Mumbo said, stuck between annoyance and a soft pang of amusement.

“Oh- alright,” Scar sounded a little embarrassed, but not offended, “Well I say that because Cub doesn’t- I know he doesn’t do this on purpose, and he’d probably be hurt if I said this to him so please don’t say anything, but he tends to take you less seriously when you approach him in an emotional kind of way. He really doesn’t mean to, he just gets a little confused I think, frustrated maybe. He doesn’t get it, is what I mean. He’s extremely bad at getting it. He’s sympathetic, but if you approach him and you��re emotional about it he’ll start thinking he knows better than you, in a ‘I’m just gonna take care of it for you,’ kinda way, which is completely infuriating, believe me, I know.”

“Are.. Are you guys okay?”

“Ah!” Scar jumped as if Mumbo had tazed him, “No no no! I’m just trying to explain it to you. I love Cub, he’s great, he’s the best. Literally. He’s just kind of an asshole sometimes. And he knows that, he doesn’t like being an asshole, so he listens when you tell him how it is.”

“Okay.. Then I’ll tell him I’m not going to eat him. And to stop bothering me.”

“No you won’t.”

Mumbo made a face, then gave in, “Okay. What will I tell him then.”

“You gotta tell him how he’s acting, right? You can’t tell him how what he’s doing makes you feel because he does not care, and he’ll probably tell you that, because when he’s made his mind up about something he seriously does not give a fuck unless you reach into his brain and shake it around a little. You gotta really take him by the temples and just shake.” Scar shook Mumbo a little for emphasis, Mumbo half fighting half chuckling as Scar dissolved into giggles.

“So I tell him that he’s being a prick and he should snap out of it before I get other people involved,” Mumbo sighed harshly, “Honestly, I shouldn’t even bother. I’ll just tell Grian. He’ll take care of it.”

“No, no,” Scar laughed, but it was a more nervous sound, like he knew just how serious Grian would take a matter like this, “That first bit is perfect. If you tell him that like you’re really serious- approach him first too, don’t wait for him to come to you- it’ll stop him right in his tracks. If that doesn’t work, call me. You don’t have to threaten him or anything, just make him see he’s not going about his business in the right way. I don’t do much more than tell him he’s being an asshole and he backs down. It’s magic.”

“Well- Okay. But I’m going to Grian if this doesn’t work.” Mumbo started to get up, but stopped when Scar squeezed his hand.

“Wait until tomorrow,” he said, quiet, “It’ll be better for you. Stay, rest today.” Even quieter still, he continued, “I’m sorry you’re going through something, Mumbo. If you ever want to get into the weeds I’m here, and you know Grian will be up and arms for you at the drop of a hat. It doesn’t.. It doesn’t matter what it is. To me especially, you have to know it doesn’t matter,” and with a small laugh, he said, “You could tell me you wanted to saw my head off with just your nails and I’d probably go yikes! I don’t think I’ll be very alive before you finish with the decapitation, but I'm free all day Wednesday, so we can give it a shot!”

“I’ll wait,” was all Mumbo could say. He hoped Scar would let it go now, but less than a minute later, he was speaking again.

“I just hope you know Cub’s got good intentions. He’s not trying to hurt you. I know it doesn’t always feel like that, especially when he can look you in the eyes and disregard your feelings because he’s more convinced he’s helping than he sees he’s upsetting you. I.. I’m also worried about you, if I’m being honest. It doesn’t take me finding you curled up in bed to know you haven’t been in the best shape lately. I don’t know the best way to go about this, Mumbo, and I don’t think- I don’t know if Cub.. I don’t always think he has the best way of going about things, but I understand where he’s coming from. I understand why. I know it’s difficult to extend him the kind of patience that you would for a closer friend, but please try. All of the hermits care about you, even the ones you don’t know well. We want to see you doing well.”

“I don’t want to talk anymore, Scar.”

Scar was quiet for a long moment. “Okay.”

…

Mumbo found Cub at the permit office where Scar told him Cub would probably be most consistently at least some part of the day. The idea of doing this in the permit office was most comforting for Mumbo, for the slim chance that Grian might also be there, might come up to Cub’s office and save him from the agony of this confrontation, though, the more logical part of Mumbo’s brain said that Grian was the wrong kind of person to convince Cub of anything. It was probably a good thing he never came in to work.

Mumbo had never been to the permit office before, but he couldn’t find an entrance, so grimacing, he poked a hole in the wall, replacing the blocks as he went. He climbed up the stairs with some issue (everything here seemed to be cluttered and difficult to find), then stopped before coming to the third floor, hesitating.

“Cub?” he called, feeling exceedingly stupid.

“Mumbo?” Cub nearly squawked, more than surprised, but this gave Mumbo some confidence, climbing the stairs to Cub’s office.

“Hello,” Mumbo said coolly, finding the even tone much easier to achieve now that he was face to face with Cub. Cub straightened his posture, and Mumbo, pleased to have gotten his attention, continued, “You’re being a prick.”

Cub blinked, then again a few times, but his expression stayed mostly the same. “Okay.”

“Yeah. Okay.”

“Yes.” Cub tapped his nails on his desk, looking thoughtful.

“I’d like to know what you’re going to do about it. Because if things continue the way they’re going, I’m going to have Grian get involved, and that would be a mighty pain in your ass.”

Cub nodded like this made perfect sense, “I think that’s fair. I do not want that. How about you sit down, Mumbo.”

“I’d rather not.”

“That’s fine. Regardless, I’d like to have a conversation about this so we can work out what we’re going to do next.”

“I already know what’s going to happen here, Cub. You’re going to leave me alone, cut complete contact, or I’m getting other hermits involved. That’s where this is going.”

“I would appreciate it if we could talk first, because as much as I’m sure you have plenty of words to say about me, I have a few things to say of my own, and I think it’s only reasonable that I speak my peace before you call in the dogs. You can hear exactly what I want from my own mouth and decide for yourself how you’d like to move forward when I’m done.” Cub closed his eyes, then opened them a moment later, “Because it doesn’t matter if you pit the entire server against me, I’m a damn stubborn cunt in the face of the kind of adversity you’re threatening, and the easy way out is here, at my desk. If you sit here and listen to everything I have to say and still want out, then I will leave you alone.” Cub eyed his own chair distastefully, getting up and maneuvering to sit with his legs crossed on his desk instead. He brushed away the few papers and knickknacks he kept, pushing them onto the now empty chair. “My desk chair is meant to sit higher than the one where a client would sit, but that’s all roleplay, let’s ditch the nonsense.”

Mumbo frowned. He considered calling Scar, but that wouldn’t help him here. He sighed. For the peace of mind of never having to deal with Cub again, this seemed a small price to pay. Mumbo climbed onto Cub’s desk, awkward with his long legs.

“Okay. Speak then.”

“I’ll only leave you alone if you listen to everything I have to say, got it?”

“Just get on with it, Cub.”

Cub rolled his shoulders, seeming quite content with taking his time. And then Cub’s eyes narrowed, throwing Mumbo a look so fiercely knowing that Mumbo felt it pierce straight through his bleeding heart.

“Let me start with what I don’t care about, because as far as shit like this goes, I prefer to lay it all out on the table. When it comes to the hobbies of this server’s inhabitants, slowly torturing, dismembering, and eventual eating alive of animals is pretty low of my list of Things That Make Me Feel Good but ultimately high on my list of Things I Don’t Really Give A Fuck About, and given everything I know about you, Mumbo, I don’t think you’re psychotic, I think you probably have a pretty good reason to do those things you do thousands of blocks out from spawn. And before you start squabbling at me, I found out in season eight, Scar knows because I told him, and I’m 99% sure Grian knows, but he never told me so and I haven’t directly asked him. I’m willing to bet he’s known since season six though, probably weeks within the first day he met you. If anyone else knows, I haven’t been told about it.”

Mumbo covered his gaping mouth with a quivering hand. He didn’t know what to do or what to say. Part of him wanted to lunge forward and silence Cub, but that wouldn’t stop him. It wouldn’t keep him from coming back. Cub did not look sympathetic. If anything, he looked angry.

“What do you need, Mumbo.” It wasn’t a question.

Mumbo didn’t answer.

“What do you need. What do you need? Why are you hiding it? What’s the damn point? If you need to eat, Mumbo, fucking eat, wasting away isn’t doing anything or anyone, especially not you.”

“It’s not about me.”

“Is it not?” Cub asked snidely, whatever neutral patience he’d been holding onto before evaporating, “What, you don’t want to hurt anyone? Are you a monster, Mumbo, because you have a little thirst for human blood? Join the fucking club! I can not for the life of me figure out what’s going on in your head- Do you think you’re better than the rest of us? Don’t want to stoop so low? What’s your damn problem! More than half of the server would lay themselves out on a platter for you on a whim of cannibalism related curiosity! Forget it if you need to eat people to survive; even the hermits you haven’t spoken to in months would cut themselves open for you! Have you opened your eyes in the past ten years? We’re all fucking deranged!”

“Shut the fuck up.” Mumbo felt the coolness come easy to him, encompassing him like black tar, “You’re making an ass out of yourself, jumping to conclusions like you can read minds.”

“You don’t give anyone much of a choice but to speculate.”

“Then I’ll lay it out for you,” Mumbo felt the rumble of a growl in his throat, expecting Cub to bite back, but he did not, silent, waiting. “Eating is not a matter of meat, not for me. Meat in the final step, but alone it is nothing, just a conduit. I need terror. I need hopelessness, despair, the kind that builds over years and years of terrorizing and watching your back and holding tightly to the things you love because you don’t know how much longer you can stand to stay, to hold them. Trying every avenue of escape, but it’s never enough. Drawing it out, leaving you alone just long enough that you think it might be safe, you think it might be over, but it’s never over. The only thing you can do is leave everything behind, find a new world, and hope to whatever higher power you believe in that I don’t follow. This isn’t as simple as asking for permission, Cub. When I finally decide it’s over, this world will end. You can not convince an animal otherwise. Animals only want to eat, grow, feel full. I will never be full. I don’t think I can be full. I can escape to sentience for a little while, spite that animal inside me, starve, but I have a feeling I’m only allowed to do so because it makes the upcoming meal that much sweeter. Betrayal, fear, hurt. To answer your questions, that’s what I need. You can tell the whole server, and it will not change the outcome. You can’t get rid of me. I won’t stop until Hermitcraft and all the history of its seasons, held in this one server, is completely abandoned.”

Cub was quiet for a long few moments after Mumbo was done, thinking, considering. “Right,” he said, almost like he didn’t believe him, the carelessness of that one word enough to make Mumbo want to bite his head right off. “That makes a lot more sense.” Then under his breath, trailing off, “..a little dramatic, but..”

“Does it.” Mumbo seethed, though part of him didn’t even know why. The callousness, the disregard- maybe he was angry that Cub wasn’t afraid because it made for a worse build up, a modicum less satisfying in the end. Maybe he was angry because Cub didn’t seem to care, and he should.

“What are you? Never heard of anything like that.” Again Cub continued casually, and despite Mumbo’s seething, his anger eased slightly at the question, reasonable enough.

“I don’t have a name. Over the years victims pass rumors of my existence around, but I’m hardly widespread enough to surpass the standard obscurity in worlds of temporary horrors. As far as I know I’m the only one of my kind,” Mumbo paused, shrugging, “Guess that’s not super likely though.”

“How old are you? You look like you’re in your twenties, maybe early thirties.”

“I don’t know. I tend to match the age of the people around me. It’s not a conscious effort.” Mumbo’s anger was starting to fade, replaced instead by a deep confusion, possibly a small amount of relief. He had very little idea what was happening here, what Cub was trying to get at, but he’d never been able to.. talk about this. Ever. Even his shadow didn’t seem to know how to feel, the both of them side eyeing each other from their places on Cub’s desk.

“Oh, I don’t mean now. I mean like- forever. In total, since you were born, or.. whatever created you.”

“I don’t remember when I started to exist. Atoms aren’t very concerned with the passage of time, nor are plants and animals. For the majority of my existence I did not count the years. Even now, I don’t count them like people do. I only want to know how long I can hold my sentience before it’s gone again.”

“Ah. So like. Really old. Really really old. Wow. I knew your body could change, I’ve seen it, but you can be different species altogether?”

Mumbo shifted uncomfortably at the idea of having been watched. He could not afford to feel shame for the animals he consumed, but he really didn’t like the idea that multiple hermits may have witnessed what he was doing and not said a word. He was always so careful- even then, if someone was following him, Mumbo was certain he would be able to sense their fear. Maybe he didn’t notice over the screams of jackrabbits. It was entirely too possible. Cub seemed unconcerned about Mumbo’s silence, continuing to ask questions almost like he was speaking to himself, like he didn’t need or want the answers because theorizing was entertaining enough.

“Can I see it? See you change?” Was the question that snapped Mumbo back to reality, the utter stupidity of the words rousing him back to life.

“If you’d like to see me lose my sentience in real time then paint the floor in your blood, sure Cub, whatever you want.”

Cub paused, almost consideringly, like he’d completely missed the sarcasm, “Maybe another time. What about something sentient? Can you do that? Like a vex- Like Scar and I! I mean, I honestly don’t know if the little guys are very sentient, so best not try-“

But Mumbo was already rolling his eyes, resigned to doing circus pony tricks, and the ethereal blue skin that painted Cub and Scar’s vex forms rippled across his own, dark hair curling into streaks of white, small wings fluttering at his back. Without entirely knowing what he was doing, he raised his newly clawed hands in a playful splay, hissing for emphasis, then let the whole change ripple away, returning to his human form. Cub looked spellbound, and the attention felt dangerous, appealing to Mumbo far more than he thought safe.

“That’s incredible! Oh, Scar would get a real kick out of that! You’ve got to show him!”

“I- It’s really nothing,” Mumbo rubbed the back of his neck, deeply unsure how to feel about this, but certainly mounting in alarm, “I’m not- I’m not showing Scar, I’m not doing that again-“

“Can you turn into other people? Can you look like me?”

“I- Probably? I mean I’m sure I can, I don’t really have limits, but this isn’t something I-“

“Try? Can you try? You don’t have limits? Okay we’ll go back to that later. Can you try?”

“We aren’t- we aren’t going back to anything!” Mumbo squeaked in his distress, but Cub was so genuinely interested, so genuinely impressed that Mumbo didn’t- he’d never experienced something like this before. So he gave in and tried, though, ‘tried’ implies there was any effort at all when in reality it was quite easy, basically second nature, until the change was complete and his mind seemed to double over on itself, the same but entirely different, thinking his thoughts but in completely different ways, stalling Mumbo where he sat, paralyzed by the horrors of a new inner working. Almost immediately he changed back, heaving shallow breaths as his mind caught up with the speed of his thoughts.

“Whoa- That was- Are you okay?” Cub stopped in his tracks, apparently failing to notice the internal explosion that occurred in Mumbo’s head.

“I am never doing that again.”

“What-“

“Your brain is awful,” Mumbo heaved, and Cub blinked, and Mumbo knew exactly what was happening, that Cub was processing, everything inside of him sluggish and those pauses, all those times he paused between sentences, it made sense now.

“You copied my body and mind?” Cub breathed, and Mumbo was still reeling so hard from the momentary terror of being in Cub’s head that he could not respond, “That’s- I mean maybe I should have guessed that might happen if you’re changing completely, but- I don’t know! I wonder why you reacted so badly if you were just me, because I wouldn’t have cared, I’ve lived here all my life. Maybe you keep part of your own head? The internal dialogue? Oh- Maybe you didn’t get my whole brain, you just got all the mental illness. In that case, I am very sorry. I bet you’d inherit physical problems too, the ones that don’t get fixed by respawns. Scar’s sickness, for example. Wow. That is really cool. I’ve never needed to cut someone open so badly in my entire life. Can I study you? I’m asking but I really don’t want to be asking. I know I said I wouldn’t pester you after this was over but I have way too many questions.” Mumbo was honestly shocked Cub could talk so fast in a brain like that, but then again, he hadn’t stuck around to find out the complexities. Maybe it only sounded fast because Mumbo’s own head was fried.

“Okay, so how do we kill you?”

Mumbo blinked up at that. “What?”

“If you go crazy, how do we kill you? Stop you, whatever.”

“Okay- one. This isn’t about ‘if’s’ so don’t get in your head about it. And you can’t stop me either, that’s not how this works. I don’t just die.”

“You can die perfectly well right now,” Cub pointed out, unconcerned.

“Well- sure. But it doesn’t matter if you kill me or not in any form, I don’t stay dead.”

“That’s fine,” Cub said, tapping his fingers impatiently on his legs, “Just tell me how. When you were hunting all those pigs you didn’t look like you got hurt or even bled.”

Mumbo huffed, impatient himself, “Well if you want to kill me, you’d better do it instantly. I don’t sustain any injuries if I don’t want to, the skin heals over as soon as whatever’s hit me is gone.”

“So if I wanted to keep you somewhere, I’d impale you. Get you in the head or heart, or maybe not some place lethal.”

“You can’t keep me anywhere, I’ll just change.”

“Ah, right. Then I’ll have to convince you not to somehow. How do you feel about peoples’ suffering if you’re not the one inflicting it? Can you tell the difference between a real scream and a fake one?” Cub talked casually like this was a simple matter of problem solving, far too animated, almost like it was fun.

“I- I don’t know, Cub, but I don’t think this is a very productive line of thought.”

“Why not? I mean, I’ll have years I’m sure to experiment on my own, but while you’re here and talking to me I think I should take advantage, don’t you?”

“You can’t stop me!” Mumbo nearly shouted in his distress, though Cub remained unperturbed.

“Is this Mumbo Jumbo the sentient human talking or Mumbo Jumbo the flesh eating terror, because if I may, you’re sounding suspiciously like the flesh eating terror.”

“You- You have no idea what you’re dealing with. This isn’t something you can stop or fight, Cub, I’ve lived hundreds of lives and worlds where everyone I’ve ever befriended has-“

“I’m gonna stop you right there,” Cub interrupted him, “I don’t care. However, maybe you’re right that prepping for the worst case scenario isn’t a great use of our time because who knows how much you’ve got left. Let’s see what we can do to extend it first, yeah? If we can do that indefinitely, then there’s no problem!”

“I’ve already tried everything, Cub-“

“Have you tried cannibalism?”

“No, but-“

“Then you have not tried everything. What’s your deal? Why are you so against it? I understand your methods are a tad more intense, but who cares. Y’know, I bet this would be more effective against someone who isn’t going to see it coming. Scar is a prime candidate, but Grian would be even better for your purposes.”

Mumbo blanched, reddening in turn as anger brought flush to his face, “I am not going to attack anyone without telling them! What is wrong with you?”

Cub raised an eyebrow, then shrugged, “If you want to maximize the time you have with sentience, you should take advantage of the beginning when no one understands why you’re doing what you’re doing. For the purpose of farming enough suffering to last you, it seemed reasonable, but yeah, probably a little extreme. Still, I think you’re going to have to ease up on the ethics here if we’re going to figure something out.”

“I’m not- No, Cub. I’m telling you no.”

“Why?” It was Cub’s turn to be frustrated, scowling as he rolled his eyes.

“Because I would feel bad!”

Cub nearly hissed, throwing up his arms, “For fuck’s sake! Are we not past that? I thought your whole issue is that you make friends then torture them to death a thousand times before moving on and doing it again. Why do you suddenly have problems now that you have a willing participant?”

“Because I’m sentient, Cub!”

“You’re cowardly is what you are. Get over it.”

“Right, sure, yeah, I’ll just do that.”

“Great!” Cub huffed, “I’m ready then! Go on, paint the floor red or whatever you said about my blood. Get it all over. Give me a reason to be afraid.”

“I can’t. I don’t- You don’t get it. I spend so much time in this body doing my best to make up for everything I’ve done. I’m glad that you don’t seem to have a guilty conscience, but it’s not so easy to know the full weight of the horrors you’ve committed and the pain you will bring again because you can’t stop. What’s the point of spending the rest of my time here inflicting the same kind of suffering I will when I lose my head. You think you can stop it, but you’re wrong. You are wrong. I am past delaying the inevitable. Let me have this. Let me starve. I will do all I can for the server in my last months. I won’t live here just as I would live as a dog. It’s not worth it. It’s not worth inflicting, knowing exactly the harm I’m bringing and wanting more all the same. And that’s in the case that everyone here is magically okay with being stalked and tortured to death until I crack regardless, no, I refuse to believe even you would want to live like that.”

Cub stared at Mumbo for a long moment, searching, though for what Mumbo didn’t know. “You’re guilty,” he mumbled, like this wasn’t obvious, “You think you deserve to starve.”

“Of course,” Mumbo replied, struggling between his own shame and the hot anger simmering below his skin.

“I don’t think so,” he said, like it was just that simple. Mumbo opened his mouth to argue, or maybe just scream, but Cub interrupted him, “Regardless of what you are now, Mumbo, you are not human. You can take the shape of a person, you can do and feel the things that people do, but you are not one, not really. You’re something else. This ‘something’ doesn’t have a name, but you have different needs. You are not a person. Why is it so evil for you to take what you need, Mumbo? I mean, sure, you can’t expect to take what you need from the friends you’ve made and keep those friends all the same, but you are not bad for taking. You are hungry. You are hunting, and you are eating. It’s callous of humanity to consider themselves above this dynamic of the food chain. We are not. Nor are you, most likely. There’s always a bigger fish.”

“It’s not the same. I am far crueler than any animal you can name, and I know better.”

“Do you think dolphins deserve to suffer for hunting fish?”

“Cub, I told you it’s-“

“Many things eat their prey alive,” Cub interrupted coolly, “You found a renewable source of food, one that feels emotions stronger than any other options, comes back to life, and fears you greater each time. You are not a person, Mumbo, you are a predator that hunts people. It doesn’t matter if you ‘know better.’ You need to eat. You need it. Talking ethics, if you want to ease your guilt, you should limit the time you spend interacting with people in the body you’ve made for yourself, but even then, you’re only preparing yourself a better meal. It is not evil. People can hate you for it, but that’s not any different from how a rabbit might hate a fox. It is not any different.”

Mumbo quieted, knowing little of what to say. It was different. It was different because Mumbo hated doing it, he hated having to do it, he hated fighting with himself, and he hated being This. He liked people. He liked being a person, he liked living among them, he liked it all so much more than he liked himself.

“But I don’t want to. I don’t want to need it. I want to stay here, stay human. I want to be human. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Well,” Cub said, voice softer, sympathetic for the first time since Mumbo had joined him on his desk. “That’s a separate can of worms, isn’t it.”

Mumbo didn’t speak for a long time. He kept his eyes closed. He didn’t want to see Cub. Cub, who was looking at him, looking directly through him.

“I guess so.” The words were so quiet, they hardly passed Mumbo’s lips before they were nothing.

“Well, here’s what I think, Mumbo,” Cub started, the softness dissipating in favor of something calmer, more logical, “I think you have a lot to say about what will or won’t keep you sentient longer, but for someone so confident cannibalism won’t work, you certainly haven’t tried it. So you’re going to try it. See if this can be a temporary possible-solution until we can find a more permanent one. I need time to work this out, and I refuse to let you keep starving yourself out of shame.”

“You- What? You think you can-“

“I don’t think I can do anything,” Cub interrupted, voice hard, “But those woodland mansions have a hell of a lot of books, and I happen to enjoy looking through them. Scar and I are always looking for something to do. So.” Cub looked back at Mumbo from where he was staring out the window, “Are you willing to try? It’s a little cramped in here, so I think it would be better to go somewhere else, somewhere I could run from you, if you like that. Outside might be ideal as well, so we don’t have to clean up so much. We could probably-“

“I- Wait, Cub, please wait,” Mumbo needed to interrupt him, needed to stop him, but when Cub did stop, waiting for Mumbo to continue, he found his mouth dry.

“What.”

“I can’t. Not yet. I’m not ready.”

Cub looked just about ready to kill him, and honestly Mumbo didn’t blame him, but the mental block was still there, he was just so- he didn’t even know, and maybe that was the worst part. He was scared. His limbs were stiff and numb, and even with the shrill screams of desperate starvation in his ears, he couldn’t bring himself to move.

Cub took a long, deep breath, barely holding on to his composure, “Mumbo, if we don’t do something to stall for time-“

“Eat me. Eat me first. Do it all, everything I would do to you, draw it out, make it hurt. I need- I need to know how it feels. I need this.”

Cub paused, eyes narrowed in thought. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Mumbo. You don’t need more excuses to back down. I’ve had my fair share of being torn apart, you don’t have to worry about me.”

“I’ll do it. I promise I’ll do it, I’ll eat my whole damn fill if you want me to, Cub, but I need this first. I have to know.” Mumbo had no idea where this had come from; the feverish desperation, but now it was all he could think about, knowing, he had to know, he had to face what he’d done directly, and then he could swallow this pill and move on.

Cub considered him, eyes still narrowed.

“Alright. Fine.” he closed his eyes, inclining his head then opening them with a smile, “We’ll do it in the labyrinth.”

[cas-backwards-tie]

Chapter Six: The Summer of a Lifetime

Heiress of Gotham

Bruce Wayne x Daughter!Reader

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Summary: With things out of the way and perhaps a little more trust, maybe the reader will finally start to make some progress, and a few friends along the way.

Warnings: Spying, Being Spied On, Insects, Wet T-Shirts, Flirting,

Words: 3.6k

A/N: While this chapter may seem like it takes a lot of twists in turns in the vignettes, it's sort of meant to reflect the ups and downs and small moments we have during summer. Honestly, though, this is perfect for the introduction of certain characters and plotlines I wanted!

It'd been an interesting end to the school year, really, and that's aside from the fact that you'd had to deal with and go through the grief of your Mother passing. Within the few months you'd been at Wayne Manor, the family had quickly learned many things about you. Bruce had found out how frugal and tenacious you are, insistent on selling some of your old articles of clothing for money on some app he could never remember the name of, meanwhile refuting the many attempts he'd offered to take you out shopping. Who wants to go shopping with their Dad anyway? He'd been consumed with work, and therefore more time had been turned over to your brothers.

While school was out for both you and Damian, Tim had decided to take summer classes at the nearby community college since it'd make his college applications only look better. Dick, of course, was still working, and Jason, really, you had no idea what was going on with him since it seemed he had most days free and nights taken. While you'd considered the possibility that someone associated with the Wayne family had a night-time job, you also didn't want to think of someone who very quickly became a big brother to you in that manner. That was just... ew. With the three eldest gone or rarely home, you'd been left with Damian and Alfred mostly.

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“So… you’re spying on your own child because…?” Tim draws out, leaning against the motherboard as he crosses his arms over his chest.

“Because it’s Bruce? You’re not the first. Thought you would’ve been the wiser, Green Bean,” Dick chides as he manually stitches another loop into his uniform. Seated on the edge of the metal table propped against the railing on the opposite side of the platform.

“She’s been watching television for over two hours straight. Is this unhealthy?” The man of the hour speaks, eyes unmoving from the image of you through the lens of one of his pesky drones.

“Hey, you’re the one who’s supposed to be parenting, yeah? You chose to bring her in, you choose what’s healthy and unhealthy,” the elder boy retorts, a clear sass in his tone that reminds Bruce where Damian’s gotten it from.

“Hn,” the old man groans, “That doesn’t mean I know what’s currently the standard in teenagedom,” he grumbles more to himself than anyone.

“Have you tried, I don’t know, just talking to her?” Tim asks, an eyebrow quirking as he doesn’t try and hide the amused smile breaking across his lips.

“You’re one to talk,” Bruce teases the boy. He’s still somewhat resentful of the way he’d handled things with Stephanie a few years ago now. Leaving her in the lurch only for her to seek answers by prying into their life.

A huff of annoyance leaves Tim and he rolls his eyes. Pushing off the computer, he turns to head for the stairs when he spots movement on the monitor. Dick doesn’t seem to care, rather, he’s focused on fixing and upgrading his equipment. However, Tim had come to a halt, now watching from just a few feet behind the old man’s chair. His drone follows you as you get up, bringing an empty dish and glass to the kitchen. You don’t notice, of course, as Tim knows this has to be one of the nano drones, most likely disguised as a fly following your movements through the Manor just a few hundred feet above them.

It’s uninteresting, really, the way he watches you put your empty dish in the sink along with your glass. Your visage shifts, heading back to the living room, but doesn’t fail to notice the nano drone. “Spotted,” Tim announces, curious to see where this goes.

“That doesn’t mean anything. Most people aren’t fazed by an insect,” Bruce defends, finally taking his gaze off the screen for a mere moment as he turns to Tim. The boy watches as you step closer to the drone; the still fly on the fridge’s handle was easy to spot, and while your eyes quickly move on in an attempt to seem as if you hadn’t noticed the bug, not wanting to disrupt it or scare it away, you step closer to the fridge.

On top of the box lies an item you’ve been grateful for ever since you’d gotten your Mom to buy it for you offline. Easily stepping on your tiptoes you grab the object’s handle and have your finger ready atop the trigger. Now all that’s left is to catch it off-guard.

The amused look on Tim’s face makes Bruce paranoid; blue eyes racing back to the monitor, he watches as a tennis-racket swatter comes his way. Lifting the nanodrone up and off the surface he barely escapes the touch of the electric swatter. Bzzt! He’s hit. Flying across the kitchen and landing on the counter, he turns the drone around to get you in frame again. “And you thought she wouldn’t do anything,” Tim laughs. An error message pops up, screen turning red along with the artificial voice alert. Clearly you’ve damaged the drone.

“It only took twenty-five percent capacity,” Bruce announces, clicking different keys to get everything back to neutral.

This elicits Dick’s eyes as his focus shifts up to the situation before him. An amused smile graces his lips and he can’t help but sometimes pity the man. Bruce… tries. He means well, but he doesn’t always have the best approach. “Gotta say, this is better than reality tv.” His Father shakes his head and, attention finally returning to the monitor once again after being distracted by Tim.

“You risked a drone for this? Come on, man. This is your own daughter we’re talking about,” Tim chastises. Even if he’s still laughing and more than amused by this. If he wants to waste his tech, by all means, let them watch. It’s not like he can’t get more.

The men watch as you look around the kitchen, eyes taking everything in. With an occasional turn, and a flip of your hair, he’s spotted again! This time Bruce sees you coming before he can be squashed. Out of sight, out of mind, he thinks. “Honestly, I’m just lucky she didn’t spot me earlier. Ace and Titus weren’t the most helpful considering they kept tracking my movements, clueing her in. But she didn’t get me until now.”

“I’m impressed she even got you at all, honestly,” Dick comments, drawing their attention again.

“Not a fan?” Tim asks, curious to hear his thoughts. After all, he hasn’t been around as much considering things have been busy with school, and hectic with Stephanie. Therefore, he doesn’t know as much about you. He hasn’t spent as much time around you as the others.

Met with a noncommittal noise, Tim watches Dick shrug. “I’ve got nothing against her aside from what she said at dinner and obviously her hate for the BPD,” he trails off, a shudder running through him, “then again, she was kind of insane when we were moving her stuff. Threatened to kill us and all. Not really the type of vibe you wanna have running around the house, you know? At least, not mine, I’ll tell you that.” With a chuckle, Dick lifts the needle to his mouth, teeth going for the fabric since he hadn’t bothered to grab scissors.

Tim almost laughs along with his brother, that is until he processes what he’d said. “Wait, what-?!” Eyes quickly darting between him and Bruce, he’s suddenly alert. “What do you mean she tried to kill you?! What’re you talking about? Hey- why didn’t you tell me this?” He zeroes in on Bruce, determined to get an answer. “Does Damian know? Why am I the last one to find out about anything around here?” He complains.

“I mean she tried to-” Dick begins.

“She did not! Dick, stop exag-”Bruce interrupts, turning to face them and argrue.

“Bruce-” Tim interjects, eyes suddenly on your approaching visage in the drone’s visual. “Bruce!” You’ve got the fly cornered. With one swift sweeping wack, and a press of the button, it’ll die.

“What?!” He yells. As soon as he turns back from Tim to the monitor he’s too late. Zzztt!!! They all grimace and wince. An alert pops up on screen:

‘V I S U A L L O S T’

The options to ‘connect to different device’ or ‘relay input’ lie underneath the big text, but ultimately you’d destroyed the thing. With the click of a button Bruce closes the tab and the background feed of the Manor’s security cameras linger. Alfred dances in the office as he dusts along, presumably, to music—Bruce knows his routine. On another, you’re carrying the nanodrone on the electric swatter to the trash, disposing of the ‘fly’ you’d killed. Lastly, Damian is reading, doing his homework as he sits in an armchair by the fireplace in the Library, Titus curled up by his feet.

“Dammit! This is why you can’t just be in here. You’re either here for a purpose or you’re out,” Bruce dictates. “Dick is actually doing something, Tim. You’re just gossiping.” With a defeated drop of his hands to the desk, he raises himself from his computer chair and rounds Tim.

“You still didn’t tell me what happened,” Tim argues, the anger in his voice no longer hiding. “I’m tired of being out of the loop! What happened?” He demands. A sigh weighs Bruce’s shoulders down, and as Dick finally lifts his gaze to take in the men before him, he doesn’t dare to add any more fuel to the already burning fire.

“She was involved with Marin. Alright? She thought he was coming for her, momentarily figured we were in on it. Satisfied?” Bruce responds, turning to face the boy.

They all know he’s been hurt. That he has trauma… it’s no secret. Yet, it’s only in few and far between moments that the boys are able to see things for what they are in a crystal-clear view. This is one of those times. Their warped views on good and evil, right and wrong, revenge and punishment… they blur the lines of reality in ways he’s sure that you, a civilian, would never understand, and yet… Tim realizes the weight of this.

“Who-?”

“Angel Marin. Bludhaven’s biggest mob boss,” Dick informs. A ‘Hn’ leaves Bruce’s lips as he makes his way toward the stairs, and a sigh leaves Tim. With a grateful nod in Grayson’s direction, Tim follows after Bruce.

------

“You know, someone mentioned your birthday is coming up,” Bruce teases, a hint of a smile hiding behind his wine glass.

The quick flash of a smile overtakes your face before you try to hide it. None of them miss it. “Um… yeah. W-who said?”

It’s invisible, perhaps, to all besides those who know him best, however, Bruce pales at the question, faltering. While you’re good at reading people, you don’t notice. Whether it’s the subject matter or the way everyone’s staring, you simply wait for a response.

“Uh, the-” he clears his throat, eyes suddenly downcast as he reaches for his knife and fork to cut his steak, “the social worker! Yes, she mentioned it while you were in your meeting.” Obviously a lie. If anyone truly knows Bruce the way most at the table do, they'd know he found it in your public files and digital footprint.

“Oh,” you respond, putting on a fake smile as you too attempt to hide behind the meal. Birthdays can be a big deal for some, and others, not. It all depends, and you aren't sure where things lie in this family. You still feel like an outsider, despite their attempts, and you don't want to burden them further.

“We could have a party!” Damian suggests, to everyone’s surprise.

“You just want a party,” Jason comments with a chortle.

“Is there anything you want?” Dick asks thoughtfully, looking down at you from your side, putting you on the spot. His kind blue eyes stir something within you, and you turn your gaze back to your plate. Busying yourself by cracking your knuckles, your lips purse into a line. With a shake of your head, it’s clear no one is sated.

“There’s nothing you want? At all?” Bruce prods, eliciting your eye contact again. Lips pursing even more you shake your head again.

“Um,” eyes falling to your lap you collect yourself, not allowing your imagination to run wild. “You taking me in was enough. Thank you.” Voice quiet, everyone has their own reaction to your words, albeit unbeknownst to you.

“Oh, shut up! You know there’s at least one thing you want,” Jason teases from across the table.

“Oh? And what’s that since you know her so well?” Tim pries, knowing he’s setting his brother up. Jason hesitates, almost choking on his drink which elicits laughs from the boys, and an amused smile from Bruce. As bickering starts to ensue, you decide.

“I-” all eyes turn to you, “I want a party!” You announce. With a confident smile, you figure, how bad could it be? After all, parties don't need to be big! Something sweet, the family there, and a boardgame is all you'd need for it to be considered a party to you.

“See? At least I know what she wants,” Damian chides proudly.

“Oh? Well what kind of party would you like?” Bruce asks.

“Who do you want to invite?” Dick inquires.

“What’s the theme?” Jason adds.

“Actually, isn’t your birthday coming up now that I think of it?” Tim voices his concern over to Jason.

“Uh…” Jason shakes his head a little, taken aback, “I mean, I don’t really celebrate anymore since-”

“-the same day as Alfred’s, that’s right,” Bruce saves them, an unfazed smile on his lips, “though I believe we can celebrate both, can’t we?” While you’re not exactly paying attention, to the rest of them there’s a silent, yet menacing request behind his eyes. It’s clear they’re not allowed to speak freely anymore, no matter your new seat at the table of their family.

“Okay, but mine comes first- or did you forget again?” Damian asks with a bite. Upon the silence, he rolls his eyes and goes back to his meal with the exasperated sound of his breath hitting his tongue against his teeth. An audible ‘Tt’ sound.

“I didn’t forget, Damian,” Bruce clenches his jaw and grips his glass a little tighter. Does every family dinner have to turn into a fight? “You know I was with the Just-” he catches himself, “Hn- that I had to-”

“-just business calls… we’re well aware, Father. Perhaps you’ll do yourself a favor and won’t miss your other child’s birthday,” Damian finishes the conversation. “Not that I count on it.”

--------

Walking through the pool room, you’re focused on texting Daisha, intent on telling her the good news!

‘Omg you’ll never guess what just happened! I’ll hav-’

Splash!

A dissatisfied shriek escapes your lips as you stare at the wet stain on your shirt. “Really?! Dami-" looking up from your drenched navy tank top, your eyes widen and lips part.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry! I thought you were Damian.”

You quickly take in the super-soaker and the boy’s apologetic expression, and it’s easy enough to put two and two together. As footsteps quietly click against the tiled floors of the locker rooms leading toward the pool deck, you grab the boy’s hand and drag him back the way he’d come around the corner. There lies a linen closet between the pool, laundry room, and stairwell. With a swift hand, you open the door and shove him in, following after as you quietly shut the door.

A bemused smile appears on his lips as his eyebrows furrow. “You’re his sister,” he whispers with certainty, “I’m Billy.”

Whispering back your name, he repeats it. Visibly eager on saying something else, you place your fingers on his lips to shut him up. He follows your eyesight, both of you staring through the slats in the closet door. With a keen ear, he gets the gist and remains quiet. As moments pass, you can feel the boy, Billy, staring; curious, you meet his gaze only to find him searching your eyes. You can’t help but notice how pretty his are. Though you almost get swept up in admiring his features, you hear a faint creak only meters away outside the door; with a motion of your other hand, you beckon him to hand you the gun.

Transferred into your open hand, you slowly remove your fingers from his lips, cupping the barrel of the super-soaker while the other wraps around the handle, fingers ready at the trigger. With a head nod toward the door, you mouth the words: ‘On three! Ready?’

Billy seems to understand, as he holds his hands up in a ready stance to push open the doors. Together, you both mouth the countdown (which is really a count up, but anyway): ‘One… Two…’

“THREE!” Busting out of the closet, Damian is just a few feet from your right. It’s easy to spin and shoot as you’d been prepared, having watched him walk past the door together. Your brother had jumped, yet shot a few instinctive rounds of water, splashing both you, Billy, and the wall.

“Shit! What the hell! What are you doing here? Who let you play?” Damian curses, saying something in a language you don’t recognize, holding his gun in a stationary position once you’ve all recovered from the attack. His suspicious green eyes narrow as they dart between the two of you.

“I figured it was only fair since you didn’t let me know about your little game and I got caught in the crossfire,” you reason, pointing to your shirt with the gun.

“I accidentally shot her thinking I had you cornered, so…” Billy’s words die on his tongue. Without sparing the kid a glance, you shove the super-soaker back in his hands before offering him a grateful smile. At least you’d hit Damian once, you figure. With that, you’re more than happy to abandon the boys to their games as you walk toward the laundry room to see if your clothes are finished drying. That was the whole reason you were down here in the first place, after all.

“You didn’t tell me she was my age!” You hear Billy yell before a series of exclamations and curses follow with the sound of splashing water and rapidly receding footsteps.

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As stupid as it was to find your thoughts continuing to drift back toward a certain brown hair, green-eyed boy, you couldn’t help it. Though you’ve grown more tolerable of one another over the past few months, you still can’t believe that one of Damian’s friends is who’s on your mind. Nevertheless, fate would seem to have an amusing time linking the two of you together, constantly running into the other.

You suppose it isn’t strange after all, especially when considering he is one of Damian’s friends… however, you find him over the at Manor more and more often after the initial time he’d quite literally bumped into you.

--------

“Grab me a juice box? I forgot one too-”Damian’s voice echoes throughout the theatre as Billy yells back an affirmative answer and heads back toward the kitchen.

“Oh, hey-" You greet, backing up as a familiar figure exits the home theatre.

“Hey- what’s up?” Billy asks, a friendly smile gracing his lips.

"Was just gonna get a snack before we start," you tell him, "Guess we're headed the same way then," you tease. Walking down the hallway and up the stairs to the kitchen, you're aware of your brother's friend just a few steps behind.

“Are you gonna watch with us?” Billy asks hopefully.

“I mean, if that’s okay, yeah, I was planning on it." You respond jokingly, not thinking about it too much. It is family movie night. After all, you’re focused, wanting this popcorn to be good, not a burnt pile of charcoal.

“Oh, I didn’t mea-”Billy goes to correct himself.

“It’s fine. I’ll be down in a minute, I’m just making my own popcorn because the boys would eat it all otherwise,” you joke. Surely since he's friends with Damian he knows what the guys are like.

“That’s smart- that way you don’t have to share and keep passing it back and forth the whole time.” Billy adds on.

“Yeah. Do you want some? I can make another little packet,” You offer.

“Sure! I can do it though, you don’t have t-” He argues.

“-I don’t mind! I've gotta wait for it anyway and grab some bowls. So I'll see you down there!" With that reassurance, Billy offers you one last smile before taking the juice boxes downstairs.

The older boys and your Father had insisted you pick the movie considering it's your first movie night with the family, and while most of them had been dreading what genre you'd pick, everyone ended up excited to watch a classic comedy most of them hadn't seen in years. Snuggled up under the fluffy blankets with your popcorn and the laughs of your brothers all around, you couldn't help but enjoy the fun.

--------

Most of the summer felt like it was spent in your room. Whether it was trying to explore the things that truly make you happy, or being lonely in a place that still feels entirely all too unfamiliar despite the fact that it's been a couple months.

The material things did help at first, the new environment, the little gifts your Father and brothers would treat you to, like those little Squishmallows you'd always seen and wanted at the store, but never bought yourself. They were more expensive than you'd ever thought to casually pay. Nevertheless, you've started to make your room truly your own. With decorating, personalizing, and getting into your own sort of routine, it seems that everyone has been slowly becoming used to this new lifestyle.

Alfred insisted that as summer begins to come to a close, you all decide on either making time for a vacation, or perhaps you and Damian get involved in extra curriculars. In the sake of preparation for school, you'd taken up driving lessons as you'll soon be old enough to begin the process of obtaining your permit. Then there was also the announcements from the school you'll be attending in the fall; with sports and clubs gearing up for homecoming, tryouts were coming up. Your Father had insisted that Damian consider a sport this year, and Alfred equally has been trying to push you in any sort of direction that'll lead to getting you out of the house and your room.

Needless to say, he wouldn't let go of the idea that your mental health could use less isolation and more friends, hobbies, and pursuance of your 'passions' even if you're not entirely sure what those are yet. It didn't take long for you to succumb to your butler (essentially) grandpa's badgering. Though you have a plan in mind for what sport you'll be trying out for, you haven't revealed them to the family. The way they seem to share everything is... still new, and somewhat unsettling to you.

~~~~~~~~

forever taglist: @ohdamnadam , @safarigirlsp , @jynzandtonic ,@moonlightsolo

hog taglist: @luvly-writer , @clairese1980 , @theroyalmanatee ,@azazel-nyx , @nightrose-18 , @vanessa-boo , @ih4temy5elfs0b4d , @agent-nobody-knows , @scarlett13 , @hoeinthehouse , @huhhuhh , @maxinehufflepuffprincess

[panic-in-the-multiverse]

Harry Potter’s Twin

Pairings: Harry Potter x twin!reader

Requested by: @insomniacwreck Could you do like Harry x twin! Reader? Like how he’d act, at the Dursley’s and Hogwarts maybe?

Warnings: idk, child neglect? the Dursley family treatment of Harry, the word murder is like once or twice other than that idk, not proofread

A/N sorry for not posting anything in a while, but I had to take a pause bc ✨depression✨, it just hit extra hard this time, but hey at least a bit of my creativity is back, but I’ve mostly been drawing, anyway here’s a headcanon bc why not

Did I know what I was writing half of the time, no the answer is no

I see a lot of fics where Harry and his twin sleeps together under the staircase, but if I’m honest I don’t think two people would fit to sleep there, even if they are small, so I’d say the Dursley’s would give the smallest room, that could be used as a actual room to the potter twins. Of course there’s be minimal decoration, two small beds that used to be Dudley’s, along with an really old wardrobe and nightstand, probably a really small desk if they could fit it, just so that they could actually do schoolwork (thank Petunia)

Both Harry and his twin would do most of the chores, except the few times Petunia does them, washing, making breakfast, dishing, cleaning, you get what I mean

Beating each others only friend growing up, until you started hogwarts that is

I’d think as you are both each other only way of affection you’d probably have a habit of falling asleep in each others beds cuddled up together

As cliché as it might be I do love the fics where the twin is like a replica of James (in looks and personality) and as Harry has his mother’s eyes his twin has his fathers eyes, but I wanted to say was every family needs a rebel, and if the twin acts like James they sure as hell would be classified as a rebel in the Dursley household

Getting in a lot of trouble, like a lot (some by accident some not by accident)

“Stealing” things from Dudley making him question his sanity as he knew he put it down just moments before (he usually blames you though)

Standing up for eachother whenever you get scolded or yelled at

“Stealing” food at night when you weren’t allowed any

Thinking you were both crazy the first time you both used magic by accident

Sharing clothes is a pain but you make it work

Being each others happiness, especially on your birthday as you smile at each other and say “happy birthday Harry” “Happy birthday Y/N” at the same time

Having twin powers, you know finishing each other sentences, knowing when something bad happens to the other, knowing what you’re both thinking (I swear twin powers are somewhat real, I’m a triplet and we have the same power)

Grabbing a letter from the floor instead of the one’s flying (I had to okay, Harry was really dumb that time)

Laughing hysterically when Harry accidentally makes aunt marge into a ballon

Time for the fun part starting Hogwarts

You’d probably be attached to the hip at the beginning, while you’re wandering Diagon Alley with all the knew strange people, you both got your own owls btw, even when on the train you’d be right by each other trying to calm down your nervousness, and anxiety over starting a new school with magic in which you know nothing about, let’s not forget you are both famous for some unknown reason to the both of you

Neither of you cared what house you got in, hoping it was the same house but if it wasn’t you’d be fine with that to, maybe a bit hard to sleep the first night, bc you usually sleep next to each other or at least the same room, personally I would love for Harry’s twin to be a Hufflepuff I don’t know why I just love the idea

A few weeks into the first school year you’d separate a bit, getting friends of your own, but you’d probably be friends with Hermione and Ron too, you could always go to Hermione if you needed help with anything, as she could always go to you with anything, Ron if I’m honest don’t go to him with everything we all know how he is with Harry and the triwizard tournament. But hey anything food related, Ron is your guy.

Yes I do love it when Fred and George are your best friends, and if I’m honest I can see the two older twins taking you under their wing and teaching you all they know, you knew about the map two years before Harry did.

Friends: Fred and George like stated before, Hermione, Ron, Neville, Seamus, Dean, Luna later on when you meet her we all gotta have that one friend (me I’m that friend), obviously Harry as he’s your twin, probably Cedric somehow, it would be fun if you were more friendly to Draco too, oh I gotta as Oliver Wood love that guy, If I’m honest I don’t remember the names of any Ravenclaw s but you’re probably friends with some of them too , as well as Slytherins, we do not follow stereotypes here

Teasing Ginny about her crush on Harry

Detentions

Snape “hating” you

Everyone looking at you like you lit the stars in the sky because you survived the killing curse

It would be fun if you were somewhat oblivious to Harry’s shenanigans being to occupied with your pranks with the Weasley twins. But Harry does fill you in on things so you aren’t completely in the dark, you just couldn’t care less if someone was out to murder you again

Loving Fluffy and Buckbeak because they’re adorable 🥰

Defeating Quirrell/Voldemort together in your first year

You’d probably be able to speak with snakes too though, and in your second year you did it to scare people of who thought you was the one who opened the chamber of secrets

Getting paralyzed with Hermione by the basilisk

Fast forward to Sirius escaping, I’m going with Sirius being Harry’s godfather, and Remus being your godfather, because I cannot leave Remus out my boy doesn’t deserve that

Remus tells you a lot of stories about your parents

Remus doesn’t even want to know how many detentions you’ve gotten by know nor how many times you’ve been in the hospital wing

Getting Fred and George to try and find Sirius Black with you because you want answers and Draco might of let a few things slip when the two of you talked

You did not to your knowledge succeed in finding Sirius but you did find a dog who you brought food a lot of times

Remus and Sirius being proud of both you and Harry for being on the Quidditch team, two of the best players, you being chaser

Knowing Remus is a werewolf bc he told you, but you never told Harry because you wanted to have a secret with your godfather that Harry didn’t know, and if you’re ere honest you could never know how people would react to someone just casually saying “btw our teacher is a werewolf”

A lot of time is spent talking to Remus about your problems and everything else in your life the other time is spent with the Weasley twins

Not getting selected for the triwizard tournament but still somehow ending up at the graveyard with Harry and Cedric

Pranking umbridge a lot, did not end well for your hands, as they are littered with scars from the pen she made you use

I don’t want to cry today so we will just say that you saved Sirius, Remus, Tonks and Fred’s life so no tears today

Yeah that’s about it I think, a lot of chaos ensures after Dumbledore’s death, and eventually Voldemort is finally defeated and you live the rest of your life happily, probably becoming an Auror,

Bonus: would be fun if you published a book, “ the twins who lived” written by Y/N Potter, bestselling book and used in history of magic in the future when referencing to the events of the war with Voldemort

[mochiwrites]

I’m gonna need you to write smt about Scar/Mumbo making Grian fall over my bro. for scientific purposes frfr

this is excellent timing because I wanted to write a small thing so — have a two times scar and mumbo made grian fall and the one (1) time he made them fall instead <3

1. Mumbo

There’s a sort of giddy excitement rushing through Grian as he sets up his tent right beside Mumbo and Scar’s. He doesn’t think he’s been so excited about something in a while, and it isn’t just because of the future opportunities to poke at the goat.

Hermitcraft has had many a prank wars before, and Grian has always enjoyed every single one of them. He’ll gleefully take any opportunity to mess with his friends, and to cause an all out war full of pranking is a fantastic outcome for the avian.

Except this time it’s different, more exciting than it has been. And it has something to do with the fact that he’s formed an alliance with Mumbo and Scar, his two favorite people.

It’s something he’s never had the chance to do before, not when most of the conflicts Grian has started has put Scar as his main target to pester. Mumbo has (mostly) been at his side through most conflicts, but Grian has never had the joy of teaming with Scar.

And well, who wouldn’t be giddy about teaming with their partners for a prank war?

Grian can feel the way his wings twitch and shift with excitement as he sets down some wool, a buzzing energy about him. He isn’t sure how long he’s been working for, but Scar and Mumbo have already finished their tents.

Scar flew off back to Scarland to grab some things to decorate the area they’ve set up in, leaving just Mumbo and Grian for the moment.

“Gri?” Mumbo calls to him, drawing a hum from the avian. “You gonna take a break any time soon, buttercup? I uh, we’ve been at this for a while now.”

Grian is only half listening to him, much too focused on getting the shape of the top of the tent right. He sets a fence post down, putting bits of wool around it to test. “Hmmm, mhm, yeah,” he answers Mumbo.

He hears a fond little huff, “You’re not listening to me, are you?”

(What Grian doesn’t see is Mumbo glance at the concrete powder in his inventory, an idea in mind.)

“Hmmmm.” Grian removes a block of two, flexing his wings so he can fly back and get an idea of how it looks. Something is missing, he thinks. He glances over to Mumbo and Scar’s tents, searching for a little inspiration. Should he use some of the cherry leaves? Outside or inside? Or—

For a moment his mind blanks, wings falling shut. His stomach drops as he falls from the sky, barely registering a muffled yell.

When his head feels less foggy, Grian blinks, staring up at the sky. “Oh my goodness! Grian I’m so sorry, I didn’t think you’d just plummet like that!” Mumbo’s face appears in his field of vision, and oh. Mumbo’s holding him.

Grian looks over to where his tent is, and where he should have been floating in the air still. Why did he suddenly fall like tha—

His brows furrow as he looks to his partner, “Mumbo…” he starts, “did you drop that concrete powder again?”

Mumbo at least has the decency to look embarrassed, “It was er… more of a test really. T-To see if maybe I could use it to stop you from working yourself too hard!”

Grian stares at him for a second or two before shaking his head. “You’re very lucky we’re on the same side, mister. Else I’d— I mean the man in the chicken costume would be flooding your base with chickens,” he teases, before planting a kiss to Mumbo’s cheek. He jumps out of the man’s arms. “But I guess a little break won’t hurt.” He looks at Mumbo with a grin, “Buttercup.”

Mumbo’s red face delights Grian greatly.

2. Scar

Of all people Grian was concerned about having the knowledge of this sudden new… glitch, it was definitely Scar.

Mumbo claimed that Scar was wholesome. Grian begged to disagree.

He’s quite aware of how chaotic their partner can be (it’s partly what drew Grian to him in the first place), and giving Scar a power that can make Grian do the equivalent of blue screening is dangerous. Very dangerous.

Where Mumbo might use it for lawfully evil purposes, Grian is quite aware that Scar will use it on a whim. Because he can.

No matter how much gravel and concrete powder Mumbo confiscates from Scar, the man somehow keeps appearing with more! And unfortunately for Grian, Scar is very entertained by his glitch.

Standing inside his tent, Grian looks around at the empty space. He doesn’t have much planned for his interior at the moment, nothing besides a bed and a chest.

Humming to himself, Grian walks out of his tent and over to the chest filled with building materials he and Scar set up right in the middle of Buttercup Camp. He flicks it open and rummages through it, grabbing some things for decoration. After, Grian shuts the chest and walks back to his tent.

At least that’s what he intends to do.

He gets a single step in before his mind goes all foggy and his limbs turn to jelly. Just before he can fall two strong arms wrap around his middle and catches him.

“Why hello there, buttercup!” Scar grins at him, “It seems like you’ve fallen for me~.”

Grian’s cheeks warm and the fogginess quickly wears off. “Scar!” he exclaims, lightly scolding him, but Grian’s heart isn’t actually in it.

Scar sets him upright as he giggles, and Grian whacks him with his wing. “I’m going to make Mumbo empty all of your pockets!” he warns, shaking his head.

“Oh, you can try mister!” Scar laughs, stealing a kiss from Grian before running back to his own tent.

Grian watches him go with fondness in his eyes.

+1. Grian

The sun is setting in the sky when Grian enacts his revenge.

All day he had been falling thanks to his partners, and Grian has the perfect plan to get them back. Simple, but perfect.

By now all three of their tents have been set up, and their sniffer has hatched. Grian’s quite pleased with the name, knowing it will definitely strike fear into Doc’s heart.

Mumbo and Scar stand in the little clearing right by their tents, the pair murmuring softly to one another as they watch the sun set.

They’re completely distracted. Perfect.

Grian waits for a moment or two before he takes a running leap. “Revenge!” he cries out as he crashes into both of them, wrapping his arms around them. He hears Scar and Mumbo yell in surprise, and the three of them crash to the ground.

Somehow, Grian ends up on top of the both, wings sprawled over their forms. Mumbo and Scar are trapped under him.

“What was that for?” Mumbo questions, looking up at Grian with furrowed brows.

“That was for dropping falling blocks all day.” Grian gives a cheeky grin in reply, looking far too pleased with himself.

“Awww, but it was so fun.” Scar pouts, “You fit so perfectly in my arms, buttercup.”

Grian sits back, once more feeling his face warm. “You’re having way too much fun with this, Scar. The glitch and the name.” He stares at the man, trying to a frown but utterly failing.

“It’s a nice name,” Mumbo chimes in, causing Scar to eagerly nod his head in agreement. “And it was rather to catch you.”

Huffing at them both, Grian moves to lay in between them, laying on his stomach so his wings aren’t crushed. “You’re both spoons,” he grumbles, but doesn’t hesitate to snuggle with them.

“Comes with the territory I’m afraid,” Mumbo laughs softly, turning on his side to smile at both Grian and Scar.

“We should find a glitch that makes Mumbo fall into our arms,” Scar comments, his tone laced with fondness.

“W-What, no!” Mumbo protests quickly, flustered. “I’d be too difficult to catch, I’m all lanky. You and Grian are much easier for that sort of thing!”

Grian hums, “No, no. I agree with Scar. I think we can make it happen.”

Mumbo groans while Scar and Grian share a smile, already thinking of ways to mess with Mumbo.

And when they switch to looking up at the stars, Grian tugs them both close with his wings, a pleased smile on his face.

[luveline]

hi! can I request a hurt/comfort with Steve, where reader was in an abusive relationship before she met him, she tells him and he's heartbroken? ty ❤

Hi! Thank you for your request. This was also requested here, so I'm combining the two! I hope this is okay ♥︎ fem!reader, tw domestic violence mention/ abusive relationship mention

You have the most charming little teddy bear Steve has ever seen sitting on your nightstand. He's golden brown with a red bow around his neck, and his fur isn't fur but a textured sort of ruching. 

"That's adorable," he says, letting his bag slide down his arm and onto the floor at the foot of your bed. 

"That's Mr. Bedtime." 

"That's even more adorable," he says. 

Your shoulders relax ever so slightly. You're tense today, and Steve doesn't know why. He tries his best to put you at ease. 

"Can I?" he asks, pointing at your primly made bed.

You nod and he doesn't waste any time, shucking out of his jacket and flopping onto your bed. It smells incredibly fresh, linen and lavender and no traces of you. Unfortunate. 

"D'you wash your sheets for me?" he asks knowingly. 

"Yeah, Stevie, you got me. I washed 'em just for you." 

"Hey, I wash mine for you." 

"S'your first time sleeping over. Didn't want you getting the wrong idea." 

"What's that?" 

"That I'm a slob." 

"Babe, I know you're a slob, I've seen your car." 

You sit down with your thigh touching his, lowering yourself beside him slowly. He turns his head to face you. Your eyelashes brush against the sheets with every blink. 

"I'm kidding," he says softly, just in case. "You're perfect." 

You relax again, tension unravelling, and then you laugh and look away from him. "Liar." 

"You are. Perfect, I mean…" He offers his hand to you. You take it, his thicker fingers slotted between yours, and laugh when he squeezes too hard. 

"Please don't, Steve, you know I hate it," you say through giggles. 

"You don't sound like you hate it." 

"I do." 

He stops his mean squeezing to hide your hand in the crook of his neck instead. He's so tired today, but he'd wanted to come over and see you more than anything, even more than he'd wanted to crawl into bed and sleep for two days straight, because he thinks you're the best person he's ever met. You speak and Steve only wants to listen.

"What's wrong with you? You've barely opened your mouth tonight. Are you hungry?" he asks, eyes closed again. 

"Not really. I actually feel kind of sick." 

"Yeah?" He peels his eyes open to check you over. 

You look nervous rather than unwell. 

"Are you gonna throw up?" he asks worriedly. 

"No, it's not that…I don't know." 

"Tell me." 

He knows you have something to say. When you don't say it, he hoists himself into a sitting position. His face shows his confusion, a glare with absolutely no malice in it working over his thick eyebrows. 

"Hey, what's wrong?" he asks, softer now. 

You sit up with him. You don't let go of his hand but your grip lessens, your thumb drawing a small circle over the lines and divots of the back of his hand. 

"I'm just scared," you say. Your voice is weak, garnering Steve's intense concern. 

"Of what? Of me?" 

"No," —you rub your eyes and your eyebrows with the heel of your free hand— "Steve, this isn't how I wanted to tell you. I don't want to tell you at all. But I don't want to do something and freak you out." 

Steve blinks. "Alright." 

You look down at your legs. He watches you pick at the stitching of your skirt. 

"I had a boyfriend before you. And he used to, uh, push me around." 

Steve's mouth goes dry. "He hit you?" 

"Yeah. In here, mostly. So I don't– I have these moments where I remember it and I flinch, and I don't want you to think I think you're gonna do that." 

"He hit you in here?" Steve can't imagine it. He doesn't want to imagine it, somebody hurting you right here in your bedroom.

"Yeah." 

"I'm-" He stutters, startled and horrified, "I'm so sorry."

You meet his gaze with an awkward smile. Sweet, embarrassed. "What do you have to be sorry for? I'm the idiot who let him."

His head is racing with thoughts. That somebody hit you. Once, which is horrifying, and then more than that, enough that you remember it intrinsically. He tries to put words together but honestly he's feeling the toxic rush of adrenaline. He wants to get his awful fucking baseball bat and take a swing at whoever it was that thought it was okay to lay a hand on you, but he knows that's not what you need right now. 

"You're not an idiot, don't say that. Please." He pulls your hand and encourages you close, eyes squinting in concern. "Babe, do you want to leave?" 

"What?" 

"Do you want to leave? We don't have to be here." Steve waits for your answer. He can see the cogs turning in your head. 

"Yeah, okay," you say weakly. 

He worries you might burst into tears as he helps you pack a bag. You can't not come back, this is your bedroom, and this is where you live, but he doesn't think you should ever have to be here, and he kind of doesn't want to be here either. 

He stops. 

"Hey," he says, putting your pyjamas down on the bed, "come here?" 

You step toward him with a listlessness he can't stand to see. 

"I'm gonna hug you," he murmurs, arms extended. He folds you into his chest and only squeezes when you squeeze first, arms tight and face pressed against the side of your head. "I want you to have nice memories in here." 

"Oh," you say.

Steve doesn't know how to articulate all the mushy stuff he feels, and he doesn't want to make promises you've likely heard before and had broken, but he still has to say it. 

"I wouldn't ever do that you, ever, and I-" His voice wobbles. "I can't believe that happened. You don't deserve that." 

"It wasn't as bad as it sounds." 

He frowns. "Baby, I don't know what to say." 

"You don't have to say anything. I don't want it to be a big deal, it just happened." 

He guides your head away from his chest, taking your face into two warm palms. Looking at you, your face, how pretty you are, and how unhappy you look, he can't imagine wanting to hurt you. Not here, not anywhere. Anything beyond a squeeze, a tickle, he can't fathom it. You quirk your lips into a tight smile. 

"It's okay," you say. 

It's not okay, but Steve's gonna try his hardest to make it that way. "Let's get out of here," he says. "Yeah?" 

You turn your face in and kiss his fingers. "Yeah." 

He grabs Mr. Bedtime before you leave. He knows it's probably not the best idea to jump ship, and he meant what he said — he wants your room to be a place full of good and relaxed feelings — but he knows that, if it were him, and he'd been vulnerable as you had, he'd want to be somewhere that feels a hundred percent safe, and quiet. 

And when you're together in Steve's room, that's exactly how it is. 

[sofiasfanartcollection]

and for a moment all was soft and quiet

(Close-ups and a thumbnail sketch and a process pic)

Wanted to sketch and paint something of what I imagine a pocket dimension Hypno can access through his hat and jacket looks like

This is where he keeps his rabbits and doves in my headcanon :]

Drew some New Zealand plants including: pōhutukawa trees, a kauri tree, and rārahu (ferns). There’s also bioluminescent mushrooms (not based on a specific species).

There’s stars reflected in the water but not in the sky. The water doesn’t always reflect what is visible. It can reflect the past or inner realities or illusions. Might want to play around with that idea if I draw this place again.

(Keep reading for some ramblings about Hypno’s powers)

some headcanons, mostly about Hypno's powers

-- Hypno can use his mystic powers to recreate any magic trick from his old routines. Basically anything he could do with magic tricks (that he still remembers how to do), he can now do for real and sometimes at a grander scale. (For example: he could make small animals and objects disappear into his hats, now he can make people and buildings disappear into his hats and they would end up in his pocket dimension.) He could also add more to his repertoire if he learns how to do the magic trick practically first.

Judging by what I’ve seen in the show and what he says he can do, Hypno can: summon doves, rabbits, razor rings, wands that turn into knives?, and cards; transform physical objects into flowers; make objects and people disappear into his hats; presumably saw people in half and put them back together again; hypnotize people to follow a command; and teleport (going to headcanon that it’s just for short distances though.)

--It would be fun to add: never-ending rainbow handkerchiefs and maybe coins from behind people’s ears, and some more card tricks like cards teleporting through things (also I really like Ollie’s idea that he uses cards as shields!) Maybe he can make people and objects float and predict what people write down or draw in a specific notebook too.

--The words he uses aren’t magic (except for when he had Houdini’s journals that is), they just help him focus and are a habit. Of course it’s for show too.

--The fashion montage illusion seems like something different than his usual powers. My headcanon is that it was the result of a spell he found instructions for (among mystic objects from the store Warren got that crystal from), and he created it using some water from the pocket dimension. However, after using the spell, and after the whole Battle Nexus New York happened, he returned to the pocket dimensions to find one of the islands (not one pictured above) was charred and damaged. He assumed that taking something from the pocket dimension to use in the spell had caused the destruction and decides to not try that again. He decides to stick with the abilities that come naturally to his mystic power. (I’m going with the idea that casting spells/manipulating magic comes with some kind of terrible cost or danger in the ROTTMNT universe. For example, Draxum’s spell taking them into Splinter’s mind was potentially dangerous.)

[I wanted to think about the limits to Hypno’s powers (since he really does seem to be potentially overpowered) so that's part of why I'm coming up with the headcanons that he has to know how to do the trick practically, and that he won't create a spell like the fashion montage illusion again (with him not wanting to risk damaging the pocket dimension again.) Of course, in the show what seems to keep him from being too overpowered and too much of a threat to the turtles is that he often gets his magic turned against him and isn't as malicious and focused as some of the other villains.]

Edit: (wanted to add another thought) I’m not sure who came up with this, but I’ve heard a theory that part of the reason why Mikey is so powerful with his mystic abilities is because he is open with his emotions. Mystic powers do seem to be connected to emotions in the show. What if that’s part of the reason Hypno is so powerful too? He does seem to be pretty open with his emotions (thinks back to when I was looking through screen shots to redraw, such a wide range of expressions: rage and terror and confusion and grief and guilt and joy etc. I mean what happened in Warren and Hypno Sitting in a Tree would be an emotional roller coaster for sure.)

[weirdest-worlds]

Here he is!!!!!! (@theforgottencrow)

Prince Scribble, Prince of Art and Writer's Block.

He goes my he/him pronouns, thought he is gender fluid. Since he's made of scribbles, and also had ecto, he can basically be whatever he wants, whenever he wants.

Be afraid.

More lore and bits underneath! I put a lot of work into this guy...

Scribble is made off the negative emotions, thoughts, and art from Creators. Have you ever hated a piece of work, or erased a line so much? Ever write negative things because you can't come up with anything else? That's this guy.

He started off as a small mass in an unknown AU, but eventually grew into a boi. To try and maintain his energy and negativity, Dream took him in to try and teach him good. Blue and Ink thought this was a bad idea. So, it basically became an abusive family dynamic.

Dream tried to protect him, but Blue would always be weary of him. Ink, didn't really care. He'd sometimes side with Blue or Dream. After a while, when Scribble was somewhat old enough, Dream left him in an empty AU.

Scribble felt betrayed. Nightmare sensed this, and came to see what was going on. He took Scribble under his wing, say he was bound for greater things then what Dream could imagine.

He's somewhat part of Nightmare's group. Nightmare views him as a son, and treats him as such.

Relationships:

Killer - Scribble wasn't found of him at first, but grew to like Killer. They get into mischief together, pranking the others on rare occasions, but mostly just messing with each other.

Nightmare - As said, they have a father-and-son kind of bond

Cross - Scribble never really liked Cross. There's the rare moment they may get along, but Cross thought of Scribble as some spoiled kid, and Scribble thought of Cross as an isolated self-proclaimed warrior.

Horror - Horror has a bit of a soft spot for Scribble, knowing his background. He leaves food outside his room door when he doesn't eat with the others. But, other then that, they dont interact a whole lot.

Dust - Dust and Scribble have a mutual feeling for each other, they just don't hang around much. Usually, where Scribble is, Killer is close to follow.

Design purposes:

The tips of his bottom tentacles are white, and work to take the colour or creativity out of things, like reverting drawings to a blank canvas.

He has a moon necklace, which was a gift from Nightmare. It's supposed to show Scribble he can trust the King of Negativity. But, Scribble is a bit skeptical sometimes.

His tentacles are quite literally made of scribbles, hence the design

He has cracks along his body, thanks to the positive energy from Creators. Some days are better then other, but the cracks shown in the drawing are permanent ones. He wears those wrist bands and belt ro help keep himself together on bad days.

Sibling relationships:

Zero - Scribble is pretty fond of Zero. They get along well, and hangout together when no one else is in the house. Mostly listening to music.

Rey - They get along sometimes, but Scribble was never fully fond of Rey.

Lynx - Scribble loves Lynx like a younger sibling. They spend a lot of time together, mostly of Lynx just rambling on, and Scribble listening

Trixie - If they didn't look so different, you'd assume they were twins. Scribble and Trixie are always hanging out and chatting, being the oldest of the bunch.

[aventvrina]

Author portrait. Get to know the author behind the blog! repost, do not reblog.

Basics.

Name/nickname: Z/Uzi/Uzir all from Uziris Age: 29 Pronouns: She/her Years of writing: 13 on tumblr, 16+ if we count MSN

Reflection.

Why did you pick up writing? - I picked up writing around the same time I picked up drawing. It was just something I kinda always did on instinct, I gotta thank a lot my cousins for putting up with me being my first beta readers. But honestly it was mostly do I could make my own fun with my characters. Do you have any writing routines? - I fear I am a very in the moment writer. I've tried all my life to change it but if I'm not feeling it it's not coming. (Yes, I did suffer a lot writing my thesis how could you tell?) However, when I'm in the mood I only have two options, either I write a thesis and two books in one setting or I write one paragraph that satisfies the urge and call it a day. There's no in between. What's your favorite part about writing? - Character exploration. Love to put to words the gremlin's thoughts and explore the living hell out of everything they do, think, own, feel. Every little detail offers so much, a gesture, a pause, a glance, it's so telling I love it. And well, breaking them in too, I don't mean this in a literal sense, but more so, in putting them in challenges (good or bad) that put to test their foundations and see what comes of it. Let's get that inner development!!

Three things you like about your writing.

One. Oh man this isn't really something I think about? I just kind of go with what comes to mind at the moment. I guess I like the simplicity? I try to go for something that's easy to read through and get the gist mostly cause I know a lot of times my writing can come off weird by trying to put to words what makes sense grammatically in one language for another. Two. I'll be very honest I am coming at a blank here. Maybe the length? I know it's stupid to like lengthy replies but i'm a yapper by nature and I guess that also translates into writing which I don't mind at all. A lot of times I have to slap my wrist over length and erase a few paragraphs cause there's no need to offer that much info for something small, I wish I knew how to be short and concise but alas. Three. How direct it is? I could go and try to double read or rewrite stuff but honestly the less i think about it the better it comes off. So all my replies are first tries. I do sometimes put some previous structure to it so i remember what i wanted to go for but in the end, whatever comes out is what i was telling myself at the moment without thinking too much.

A question for the next person.

Write a question for the next person to answer. Once you've answered it, leave a new question for someone else to answer.

When life throws you lemons, and gets you down, does writing become something that you're drawn to as to get you through it, or do you feel like it does the opposite?

This heavily depends, I have used writing and rping to work through bad times before, it helped me as much as it damaged me but then again it's not like i had much choice back then. Nowadays I rather keep it at arms length. As much as I feel that it could help, this is supposed to be a hobby I enjoy, if i come with a spoiled mood to it, it'll ruin the fun. I will look at what I wrote and be reminded of what I was going through rather than whether I enjoyed it or not. Specially if I'm going through a very rough time, as it has happened before.

Tell me about your favourite roleplay experiences ! what was a thread that you really enjoyed ?

I don't know if anyone here knows what IScribble is but it was one of my first rp spaces where i rped both in writing and drawing. It was genuinely fun, met one of my irl best friends there and we kept rping through MSN with OCs. Despite the obvious cringe plots/ideas and very, very bad english, it was one of the most fun i have ever had rping where we started with two ocs and ended up crafting a whole entire community and lore surrounding them. And of course, ended up with a life-long friend.

Thread wise though, it has to be back on 2017/18 when i was rping in a Firefly themed closed rp group. Since it was closed, all our characters had to personally know each other and their stories merged together on the ship, during one of the events there were huge breakthroughs in a significant character relationship that still lives rent free in my head cause it was completely spontaneous. We had nothing planed except that they were acquainted from a mission before boarding the ship, all else that transpired was just pure back and forward jumping on the characters reactions to each other and it was -chefs kiss- We ended up having a lot of fun before the rp shut down and we all moved on with life (mel from hell if you're out there love ya! sol to my sid & jane to my petra)

New question: When you're in a writing funk what inspires you to write?

Tagged by: @artisaen & @iniziare (smooching you both) Tagging: @liecoris, @shrineofprophecy, @wolfkcst, @pairidaezah & you!!!

[whittlore]

waiwai do we have any hitch lore??- I need a recap on hitch’s lore so I can start thinking of the dynamics in shattered dream’s gang :3

AREGAHAHAHA yeaahh!!!! he does a have a small lore for now

basically, hitchprint is made out of ink's vials and error's strings. hitch which is an synonym of error and print which is related to drawing, printing, ink ect.

his extra abilities are controlling emotions, and he can even feel the other's one if he cares enough to "connect" with you - how does he do that?? he connects a string on both souls, yours and his and that's how he understands you— for example, if you're feeling sad but somehow can't cry, if he connects this string to you he'll feel the sadness but will also express it for you [that's when the term cry for you becomes real eheheee🗿] he can be very vulnerable, but you don't see him like that often, he's moody and neutral most of the time it's a mix of it ig, he's not too edgy but not so kind either BUT is very protective of his partners 👀 oooooo he doesn't show it though, and with shattered's influence, ig he's got some manners from him too lol

his other ability is to make artificial souls that he can control and pressure you with it, example if he makes a fear soul he will be able to paralyze you — and this in a certain distance, if you're further than the distance he's able to control you won't be touched by it BUT if he forces too much his eyes will glitch and will hurts asf, to ease the pain he will put his glasses on and cover his eyes with his hoodie + won't be able to use his magic for a few days. [that doesn't happen so much thankfully??]

and ofc, strings that he calls emotion strings, it randomly changes colors. other functions? idk yett

so, for his backstory

when hitch realized he was just an anomaly in every way possible he was really upset about it, he used to wander in the void since he had no idea how to leave, core!frisk was here when it happened, they searched for hitch for a while until finally founding him and brought him to the Omega timeline where he sort of got used to it.

he wasn't really comfortable there though, he felt it that it wasn't his place to be on, and he was really depressed at this period of time. so he didnt go out much, sometimes he would to take some fresh air, the reason he stayed was because of dream, he was the only person he truly spent time with and genuinely concidered him a friend.

until one day, he was woken up with a lot of noises, it was late at night, screaming could be heard and fighting could be seen, someone was attacking the area, it was shattered that was attacking the Omega timeline — hitch surprised by what he was seeing, ran toward the mess and asked what was happening, when he learned that it was dream he was dumbfounded and afraid for him.

despite that hitchprint somehow tried to defend the timeline, without laying a hand on him as he simply tried to get dream's attention, mostly because he didnt want others to hurt him. of course shattered caught him, somehow recognized hitchprint, then started to say how sad he was for him, that he understood, that he could fix his broken heart, his shattered dreams... if he joined him, of course core frisk and the people of Omega timeline tried to convince hitchprint but he ignored and left with shattered.. well he didn't have a choice at that moment as he had already teleported somewhere else.

hitch couldn't help but feel fear and excitment, was that really the same person?? he wondered why shattered didn't kill him or whatsoever but quickly learned that his power did intrested him and was the only reason he was spared, he felt heartbroken at the idea that it wasn't because of their friendship [or could it be?] but stopped thinking about it much with time, now as long as he was with him, he didn't care even though he was different.

THAT'S ABOUT IT I THINK I might add some stuff but for now it's just that haha hope it's enough, also you have to tell me yours too!! I need to draw themmmmm!!!! 😆😆

[infini-tree]

now for something completely different (and something of a third anniversary post)!

as i’ve stated once in a while about the music room scene in the comic: it was one of several scenes i’ve been extremely excited to draw. its gone through a lot of revisions, which is detailed here.

it, along with captain’s first appearance was literally one of several reasons why this part of sticky notes au exists as a comic as opposed to just writing it as a fanfic. sure, it may have taken less time to write, but words can’t really compare to the buildup, gutpunch, and subsequent tone shift that came with that one scene.

i’ve literally been revising this one specific part since october 2020, which puts into perspective as to how long i agonized over it (for reference, the scene went live online in fall 2022*). so have that process to the lead-up to the snap.

* (disclaimer: a good chunk of the scene was in my drafts for months prior to its posting, but you get the idea.)

late 2020 (pics 1-2): 

the original plan was for krupp to fall. i never figured out how or why-- maybe he just slipped on some vc-barf! i think some versions had him additionally fall back into the stairs as a result of that. but in that moment the boys just took advantage of that moment and snapped their fingers to switch him over before he hit the ground. this was also back when krupp also knew the method of switching, hence his hands in the first pic.

early 2021 (pics 3-5): 

still had the concept of krupp knowing about snapping, but i swapped it to the idea to him learning it right at the moment before he switches over in the coming months. early sticky notes krupp and captain are learning how this works and having their initial assumptions about the other challenged, so i figured it would be the more appropriate story beat for the whole thing at the time.

i don’t remember the context of the comic thumbnails in the 4th photo, i think i was just playing with how the snap itself was going to be illustrated. but the right panel was a different version of it. krupp was initially supposed to say... something. i don’t think i planned that out in specifics, but the point was that he was supposed to be genuinely afraid. the hand was going to come into view, and was blurry. when it snaps, the hand is the one in focus and krupp is blurry. the change in focus is all symbolic. here’s my original commentary on the subject:

theres going to be a future page where the boys start talking but it just continues to linger on krupp's pov for a lil bit and how he feels abt the boys just being v casual and callous about the fact that theyre making him fight a monster (semantics about how its CAPTAIN whos gonna fight notwithstanding)

before yanking the pov back to the boys for some sweet sweet dissonance

a version of this dissonance does make it in the final comic, so there’s that.

2022 (pics 6-9): 

we’re almost there folks. the trio of poses (and gif made of those 3 poses) was from a version of events that had less block-busting. basically, the gag eel was at the door much sooner, and running out of options, the boys essentially say “the stealthy [prank] option isn’t working, he’s dry enough, we have to do it now”. krupp is confused and panicked on the fact that there’s a monster and this whole bit in the music room was a set-up. 

he starts panicking and hurling accusations/theories about how they did it. he even had a throwaway line along the lines of “did you steal one of melvin’s inventions [to make me into captain]”. that line was immediately scrapped since mentioning him felt a little out of left field at this point of the story and i wanted to keep the scope small.

while in this version of the thumbnails, the frames were meant to gradually zoom in to krupp’s face, i did do a set of full body poses just in case i did want something more than a waist up... mostly to make sure if krupp’s pose and hand placement could be feasible

note the fact that he’s covering his head but not his ears. he’s really working off of assumptions

[ganyulover123]

My Sarah Christ x Tuesday cop fanfic chapter 1 idea

basically the description of my amangela Sarah Christ x Tuesday cop fanfic that I’m making is basically, (it take’s place in a nonexistent town in Los Angeles surrounded by a forest, I might draw a small map of the town later and post it) after sarah’s partner rodrigo gets shot she ends up losing her badge, and then ends up going through 2 divorces, the first being her first husband who took her son and her daughter, he ends up taking the house too, so that’s when she ends up living in her SUV, two months after that she meets (REDACTED) and they end up getting married after 1 month of being together, but then Sarah decides to get another divorce another 2 months after that because things just weren’t working out for her, she also was living in his apartment at the time cuz she didn’t have her home. She then goes back to living in her SUV. (She parks her car in a parking lot of a somewhat abandoned park every night and sleeps on a pile of papers in her back seat, it’s a nice view, also the park isn’t that far from the police station)

after all that she gets a call from her chief because they still keep in touch just in case, she ends up getting her badge back because the chief and higher ups are proud of her progress with the creekside killer (she currently doesn’t have any more clues on where he is, she goes to bars every night to try and get information out of people but it hasn’t been much luck lately) after the chief calls her in and gives back her badge, he proceeds to hand her a document and tells her that she will be having a new partner to work with, she mostly wants to work alone cuz she doesn’t want to see another one of her partners die on the job but she doesn’t really have a say in the matter so she just goes with it.

in the document was a picture of Tuesday cop/aka Angela, and all the information about her.

recently Angela used to work as a cop in San Francisco but moved to Los Angeles, 2 months ago after her wife’s murder, she is then transferred to now continue working as a cop at Sarah’s police station, she used to work in night shift but not anymore because on the night that her wife died, she was at her office and her wife called her and said she was going to go pick up groceries from the store because her daughter Roseanne was getting hunger, after a couple hours pass her daughter texts her and said that mom hasn’t returned home yet which wasn’t like her, and so she decided to file a missing person report on her own wife, she decided to go out and get a couple other of her cop buddies and they drove out around the town searching for her, and for a moment one of the other cops called on the radio attached to the inside of her car and said that they found her by the creek in the towns park and sadly told her of her state, Angela filled with fear rushed to the location, (it was the same location and path in the park that they always used to walk down on by the creek, it’s were Angela even proposed to her wife) once she got there the other’s noticed that she was stabbed in the back and they found a yellow note tucked into the pocket of her jacket, it said ‘you’re next’.

Angela decided to put it in a ziplock bag and keep it for evidence, she thought it might help in the future, on that night she was the one that had to put her wife in the body bag, they also found the bags of groceries nearby so she had to go home and bring the news to her daughter, after tears were shed, Angela decided that night they had to move, she had to take care of her daughter, she was the only thing she had left in her life and she new that her wife’s dying wish was for her to protect their child no matter what, it’s what she would have wanted. Once they moved to Los Angeles, Angela didn’t want to work as a cop anymore but since her dad used to be a cop (he retired with his wife and they live in Los Angeles, also Roseanne stays with them and comes back home on the weekends, cuz Angela has work and she only gets to see her daughter on Saturday’s and Sunday’s now) she didn’t want to lose her and her dad’s reputation and also her daughter had to convince her to keep working because she new it was to protect her, so that’s when she decides to work as a cop again, and this time with Sarah.

After Sarah reads the information and stuff on the paper, it said that her wife was recently deceased by murder, but they never did figure out who it was, that’s until that night when she goes to the bar (Sarah work’s day and night shift’s while Angela only works daytime) and ends up meeting Angela there, Angela rarely goes to bar’s, in a sense that was her first time there and she has never gotten drunk before, so anyway Sarah tells her about the creekside killer and all that, Angela tells her about the yellow colored letter, they end up making a plan for Angela to bring the letter to her in the morning because she thinks the letter is suspicious because the creekside killer doesn’t write letters unless he’s working with somebody else, but she doesn’t say that part out loud until the second chapter and all that, and basically that’s mostly the idea of chapter 1, skipping out on some details and whatnot, I also put a couple of references and stuff from some of the videos. hopefully this doesn’t sound to rambly, I’m also currently working on a small animation about it and stuff, also it’s really hard to draw side profiles and stuff but I hope it looks good to you guys once I’m done with it.

[livewireprojects]

A small collection of sketches I did recently, most of these were talked about with my friend @tay-likes-toons who has gotten into Muppets again recently

Left to right

Top:

-This is a new version of Elaith(forgot which version) as a muppet, I’ve only really drawn him from a distance or drawn Arthur in his outfit

-Kermit dressed as Elaith because Vincent joked about the idea of Kermit playing the role of Elaith in something. His face reminds me of Kermit from Scoob & Shag which I need to reread cause I haven’t seen it in a long time. I wasn’t sure how to pose him & mostly had him flip off Merlin cause Merlin is an asshole & I needed an excuse to show his arm to show off his sleeve.

-This is my Welcome Home version of my OC Arthur dressed as Elaith. Partly cause it’s cute & partly cause Elaith is a version of Arthur & since the theme of this collection of sketches is Muppets why not use a version of Arthur that reminds me of a horror version of Sesame Street which is connected to Muppets. I find it funny that when it’s Welcome Home puppet people I give them joints but if it’s Muppet related puppet people they get noodle limbs.

Bottom:

-Vincent asked me to draw to draw this, it’s the Reawakened dealing with Elaith(in muppet form) having a level 5 Kermit style fit. Elaith is usually a calm person but the Unicorn Warriors just bring out a lot of raging. Lao Xi & Clarice are worried about their lover & wondering what they got into. I find it funny how before their return they’re seen as the crazy people but this makes them look like concerned sane people while Elaith is the crazy one. It’s semi funnier cause Vincent made jokes about Elaith puppeteering muppet Elaith meaning Elaith is using muppet Elaith to channel his rage. That likely also means his partners are watching him likely kneel down while making a puppet version of himself rage.(I dunno where I’m going)

-This wasn’t intended to be here but I got nowhere else to put it & didn’t want to start up another sketch dump at the moment. Pretty much Sage & Lou with their daughter Chrysanthemum & her newborn brother Basil. This is an oddly sweet moment between some creepy people & their young kids. I don’t know how Basil looks so I tried to not add many features in.(Then again this is a small pic so it was tricky anyway)

[fluffalpenguin]

@arcvmonth day 24: the manga

oh man oh MAN it's vj day!!!!!

it's pretty funny how all my gifs are mostly yuri-centered huh

Under the cut:

revisiting my review of the manga from last year

Headcanons and fic/comic ideas

rambling about an old WIP

small playlist! (with write-ups!)

First of all, here's the 3,000 words analysis/blog thing I wrote last year when I first finished it.

One and a half years later, I still largely agree with it! There's some headcanons I wrote in there that I completely forgot about, lol, so I'm glad past me posted it somewhere for current me to relieve it again! (The rants were also kind of funny to re-read too)

***

Next, headcanons!

Lately, I found myself wondering about Yuto and Yuri's outfits; specifically-

...Why are they walking around Maiami with dramatic red/black capes?

After some time in the kitchen, I decided that when Yuya was younger, he was really into good versus evil roles when rehearsing his dueltainment lines. And who else better to serve as his practice opponents than his two brothers who aren't off busy making rounds at the stadium on a D-Wheel?

Tying his own fluffy, white towel around his shoulders, Yuya throws a nearby black blanket to Yuto. The oldest is initially a little embarrassed about the notion, but no one can ever say no to the baby of the Sakaki family, can they? (He'll just have to live the shame down from the twins later on... They barely even respect him as they are right now, anyway) In the middle of the duel, Yuri walks in onto the two of them after having finished his homework (or tweaking his deck). He raises an eyebrow at Yuto's appearance, but gets the gist of the situation when he sees their duel disks activated and Yuya standing on top of the sofa in a similar attire. As Yuto steals Yuya's schtick and becomes a tomato, Yuri pouts about being left out and quickly leaves to hunt for something that will allow him to join the fun. When the duel ends, Yuto passes the baton to Yuri. As he watches the two rattle off silly, goofy lines like, I will destroy the planet, the universe, all the worlds! and, Never! I'll stop you, fiend!, Yuto sighs in relief. At least Yuya now has Yuri to LARP with. Maybe Yugo would volunteer too, once he returned from driving practice and hears about it. Though, he'd likely ask to play the part of the hero himself. Anyway, Yuto's already almost in middle school; he's getting a little too old to play with costumes now. Then afterwards, at dinner, with an angelic smile Yuya says, "Yuuto, can we play like that again sometime? You look so cool with a cape!"

Yuri on the other hand, always had a tendency for the melodramatic, his own personal spin of the theatrics he's seen from his dad! Deep down he really loves playing the villain.

(This was meant to be a short description but I couldn't help putting some fic-like sentences in there tehe also yes that's a reference to the conversation between Yuya and G.O.D./Eve)

***

(warning: angst ahead)

Another headcanon I have that I want to write/draw something for is that in the postcanon where Reiji, Yuya, Isaac and Ren travel through space and time together, Yuya has moments where he falters to his grief.

He's used to his brothers commenting and nagging him on almost anything and everything (A midnight snack? Think about your complexion, Yuya!) and his world is suddenly a lot more quiet. In his hurt, he starts to avoid Ren, not wanting to be reminded of what he's lost (He doesn't feel good about it).

Eventually Reiji intervenes and Yuya opens up a little. He's been unable to properly let himself grief for his brothers. All he wants to say is that he misses them.

But he doesn't feel like he has the right to do so, having being the one to seal their fates by personally destroying the one method of bringing them back to life. He doesn't regret his decision of course, but he's unable to stop himself from feeling this way too.

It has a happy ending; Reiji convinces Yuya to talk to Ren. Yuya shares stories about Yugo at Ren's request, making the both of them laugh. Yuya realises that there are other methods of bringing back people to life, too, even if only momentarily.

But it is enough.

***

Misc hcs:

Yuya's charisma and attitude is a combination of his three brothers fawning over his cuteness from birth and Yuya being so star-struck with Yusho's performances he attempted to replicate the movements ever since he could walk.

Being the oldest, Yuto feels a sense of responsibility for his brothers and pledged to take care of them in place of his always-missing parents. However, he oft times finds himself not having to do much because Yugo and Yuri are so determined to win over Yuya's heart (and be proclaimed 'favourite brother') that they also make sure to set a good example for the youngest when possible. This causes Yuto a little bit of an identity crisis (/j it's just for fun) until he settles into his role as the househusband cook.

"All of us... are connected by... the arc of destiny!"

Reiji and Yuya are supposed to be silhouetted by their fathers, so Yuzu is meant to seem like she's looking at Yuya, but is in fact looking at Yusho. I also think VJ Yuto should be allowed to smile more!

This drawing is meant to be my love letter to the manga as a whole, and ESPECIALLY the last duel between Reiji and Yuya. I talked about it a whole ton in the review linked above already, so go check that out if you haven't!!

I was really happy with the composition when I first made this, especially with Sora/Ren/Isaac Versus the Yus mirroring their duels! (Well, okay, I know Isaac didn't duel Yuto but.... just give this to me)

Anyway I really wanted a fun and positive energy for it! Every month I think about returning to this but I get slightly demotivated when I realise I have *zero* colour references for both Ren and Isaac... Please send in your headcanons...

***

Last but not least, last month I got brain worms for another animatic/hand-drawn MV for Eve's Fight Song! I'll never ever have to time to go back to it, but I wanted to take the chance to talk about other songs that make me ill when I think about them with the manga.

1. Myth & Roid - TRAGEDY:ETERNITY

Don’t give me an eternity Even if that’s all I can believe Press pause on the flow of time In the shadow of the blink of an eye I don’t wanna fall into a sleep ‘Cause now you are my remedy Now knocking on, knocking on, knocking on my brain Even for the temptation of a nightmare Fate demands a costly reparation for its fare

Translated lyrics mostly from lyrical-nonsense, but I made some changes for better rhyming and flow yahoo!! This song is what I imagine the OP would be in my dreams when it received an anime adaptation, I've always dreamed of making my own animatic to it!!

Not just the chorus, but the ENTIRE SONG (pleeeease go take a look at the lyrics) feels like it's made for the manga please please go take a look

2. MYTH & ROID - -to the future days

I cast my wishes to the future days If we can meet on the other side of eternity… I cast my wishes to the future days What should we talk about first? Sadness and even joy will, eventually Will sleep together That's the way life is If such a world could be granted Would nobody feel hurt anymore?

Yeah I like M&R quite a bit, how'd you know

If T:E was the hypothetical OP, this is my pick for the ED theme, like AAAAAAAA for me it encompasses the yu's story so so so so so so so well, though

And:

Both despair and also life come to end eventually Take this future into your hands and let it run its course Spin it ’round…… The hands on the clock spin around Like flowers, petals falling and fluttering Once we blossom, we dissipate in the moment THE BRIDGE THE BRIDGE THE LYRICS ARGHHHHHHHH This is definitely for me, the moment when the three yus start to fade during Yuya's battle with Eve, their last conversation they have with yuya..... *lies onto the ground in a pile of misery*

Rest of the lyrics HERE shoves it into your face

3. MAISONdes - Tokyo Shandy Rendezvous

It's no joke, no it's not! Tokyo Shandy Rendezvous Even when the time comes nothing will come of it Vague truths only become melancholy Come on and snatch me away now, take on me!

This is a fun one, when I watched the PV and in the chorus Lum was spinning I instantly went wow what if that was Phantom.. and then the lyrics bared their claws and sunk them into my brain and hasn't really let go since

Unlike the above two songs, not all of the lyrics are a perfect match, of course, but I adore how in general the whimsical yet lonely nature of the song feels like it fits Phantom so well!

4. Eve - Fight Song

As the night still refuses to end, let’s dream

Last but not least the song I posted the above storyboard for! CSM fans (as well as Eve fans, lol) are probably already familiar with the song, and full lyrics here, though like the song above, only parts of the song (particularly the chorus) really resonated with the vj brainworms in my head lol Even for me, y’know Let’s make a break for the future Towards the verge of death like we pray for A boy that gave his word Today, just like back then As if there’s no more future ahead

Sigh.... Yuto, Yugo, Yuri................ Just let out your voice Let’s take it easy We don’t even know common sense, so we know the world through wise eyes These overflowing feelings, behold Greet me with an applause

I love the first half a lot, I can easily imagine Yuya saying it to the other three... and of course, the latter, from him to the world! (or perhaps even G.O.D...)

As always thanks for reading GOODBYE I GOTTA GO DRAW SOME ARC-V OCS

[littlestsnicket]

witcher wip amnesty 2023

(it's still january, i'm still allowed to do that right?

summary: jaskier's never had anal sex. obviously he asks geralt. (i gave up on this before i got to the sex part, but i really really enjoyed writing the dialogue setup.)

word count: ~.8K

[also on ao3]

They are sitting around the campfire, Geralt working through his endless equipment repair and maintenance, Jaskier humming and tapping his fingers against his palm (it’s too dark for him to do much of anything else). Jaskier goes quiet for just long enough for Geralt to become suspicious and look up at him before he asks, “Geralt, have you ever been fucked?”

“What?”

Jaskier huffs—a momentary flash of annoyance that Geralt hasn’t divined enough of his train of thought for this question to seem reasonable. “Yes, surely a worldly person such as yourself is familiar with the male body’s capacity to be penetrated for sexual pleasure.”

“Yes. Why are you asking me this?”

“I haven’t been, and I’m curious.”

“And your first thought was to ask me?” Geralt’s voice is flat with incredulity.

“My first thought was to—“ Jaskier pauses to wiggle his fingers, “self experiment. But it wasn’t… it wasn’t bad but I’m not sure I’m doing it right.”

“So you want me to teach you how to make anal sex feel good?”

Jaskier’s face lights up. “Yes, that’s the idea!”

His face crumples into a frown just as quickly, “I suppose it’s presumptuous. I’ve never even known you to seek out the company of men. If I was of your advanced age, I’d have tried everything, but not everyone is like that…”

A small part of Geralt is curious of what else Jaskier might say it was allowed to keep rambling. He’s seen and learned a lot of the world for someone so young, it’s interesting sometimes to see what he has and hasn’t pieced together. But Geralt speaks when Jaskier pauses to draw breath, “I don’t usually, but I have often enough. Most of my experience is with women.”

“Well, yes, in general, I know you well enough to have observed that.”

“Not just in general.”

“How does that work?” Jaskier sounds alarmingly excited.

Geralt wiggles his fingers the same way Jaskier had earlier and adds, “or with a harness.”

Jaskier’s expression goes a bit glassy and Geralt can smell his arousal spike. Maybe this will distract Jaskier enough that they won’t have to finish this conversation. Geralt’s not sure if he’s disappointed or relieved.

It doesn’t matter. It only takes Jaskier a few moments to return his attention to Geralt. “The mechanics on the receiving end must be basically the same regardless.”

“Yes,” Geralt confirms. He pauses with a frown. “Are you propositioning me?”

“Oh, no. I was not expecting a practical demonstration. But, hm, you’re not usually one for words, so that’s not an unreasonable assumption and if you’re offering I am in no way opposed.” Jaskier gives Geralt a deliberately obvious once over. 

That, in Geralt’s opinion, is the worst answer Jaskier could have given, putting this decision on Geralt, but Geralt studies him. He’s comfortable and relaxed, pleased to have Geralt’s attention, but mostly endlessly curious.

“Okay,” Geralt says, allowing Jaskier to study him in return.

“Lovely!” Jaskier exclaims before shifting suddenly into awkwardness. Geralt has had the time to grow accustomed to how quickly Jaskier’s expressions can shift, but it’s still disconcerting sometimes. “So, do we kiss or…”

“Thought you were supposed to be good at this.”

Jaskier hrumpfs with exaggerated offense. “I’m practiced in how to seduce, be seduced, and exchange quick favors, but I don’t know which of those things I’m supposed to be doing? I’ve never done… whatever this is?”

“Hm,” Geralt says in genuine surprise. But Geralt thinks about it a bit more and it makes sense. It was the last thing Geralt would have expected them to share upon meeting each other, but they both exist in a liminal space (very different ones but the results are very much the same) that makes it difficult to see where one stands with other men. Geralt has only done this sort of experimenting with other Witchers.

Geralt’s been quiet too long and nervousness is starting to creep into Jaskier’s scent. It jars him out of his thoughts.

He nods decisively. “We should kiss first. Not sure how to make this good for you unless you’re…”

Geralt trails off, but Jaskier seems to understand, does a pleased wriggle and moves to kneel next to Geralt, posture open, inviting, and eager. Jaskier does know how to be seduced. 

Geralt sighs again, aiming for annoyance but it comes out fond instead. It’s embarrassing, especially when Jaskier smiles at him knowingly. Geralt quickly tidies away the bits of Roach’s tack he’d been mending and comes back with a vial of oil.

“Oh,” Jaskier says, looking at the vial. “That does make sense.”

Geralt laughs.

“I would have asked more questions before I did this to someone else! And I did think it through enough not to just stick completely dry fingers in my arse!”

“No, it’s not that. If you thought this was fine with just spit—not that experienced people don’t enjoy that—my job will be easy.”