#shippy ask

[pouletpourri]

More Pomni and Gummigoo please

truly the bffs we deserved

[starrynightarchive]

one piece post-ts character designs are insane but one that makes me go particularly wild is how intrinsically zoro and sanji's design is linked with luffy (and each other).

pre-ts, sanji covers his left eye and zoro is very much not blind in one eye. so so here's the thing right. zoro is considered luffy's right hand man and naturally sanji is his left. zoro and sanji, wings of pirate king. coincidentally (or not), zoro can only see through his right eye post-ts and sanji only through his left. the right and left wing. it's almost reverant in a way; like their purpose and even their body has been molded to make luffy pirate king. like they are devoting themself to luffy, like the entirety of their being exists to make his dreams come true.

what's even more insane is how their design compliments each other. i will see what you can't. i will be your eye, your compass, your strength, if you need me be. you are everything i am not. i will be everything you cannot be. you won't need to turn your head all the way, because with me by your side, your back will never have to scar. you don't have to raise your fists to fight armies your eyes couldn't scout soon enough, i will bring them down to your feet to crush. you are my mirror, my shadow. we are complete without each other but with each other, we are glorious. untouchable. invincible.

[acoraxia]

shamura said no because they have no heart /j anyways do you have any drawings of leshy? he’s my fav /no pressure sorry to bother you!!

shamura said no because they’re emotionally constipated

anyways yes i have! i made a quick sketchy comic here:

but i’m planning on reworking his design soon

i’m going for a dilf vibe so amen

[asilentguardian]

in my head Bruce is just so totally gone over Hal. like obviously they both love each other or whatever but Bruce is just down atrociously. he's just so into Hal he doesn't know how to act right. he does something completely completely insane. and it WORKS.

[tiniest-hands-in-all-the-land]

So I have a confession to make,,

Before I started playing XIV, I read someone's out-of-context tweet talking about things being duller without having some nasty little freak who's openly obsessed with the WoL like Emet or Haurche etc, and I was so blinded by ecstasy upon hearing that Emet would be obsessed with little ol' me, that I did not think upon it further than that, and foolishly came to the conclusion that Haurchefant was going to be a villain,,,,,,

[artsarasp]

I’m not gonna lie 12/12 top!SQH gives me so much life (and it’s sooo funny to imagine the OG SQQ going along with this but also the System should give the 12/12 achievement and an extra one for Cucumber Bro bc Cucumber Bro). Also WQW’s bright face with sparkles also gives me life he’s so cute

I'm having a lot of funnn and Wqw my beloved <3 his little bit was the first joke i thought of when thinkin about the comic xD

[weaselishmcdiesel]

Make a titty trio

theyre at the beach you pervs

[omegalomania]

after the storm

[captain-dville]

Jonny!! Brian is overworking herself when he's sick >:[

She's what? Stupid useless hunk of brass...

*He's complaining, but he does immediately stop fighting with anons so he can go find @drumbbot-brian to yell at him and bully her into bed. There will be blankets involved. And cuddling.*

[1-marigold-1]

you're mad about xisuma and wels... so welsuma maybe? :>

this is purely platonic since I don't do romantic ships with Xisuma (he's aroace in my heart <3) but yeah! They seem like dudes that just meet up sometimes and talk about stuff, they both have pretty chill vibes

[empressofthewind]

what makes you think that mello doesn't want near dead? i think so too but I'm not entirely sure

Great question!! I have a lot of explanations for this.

There are two main practical reasons why Near dying would be catastrophic for Mello. Firstly, Mello and Near are designed such that they are stronger together, and functionally cannot succeed without the other. People generally understand that Near couldn't have caught Kira without Mello, but I think a lot of people miss the fact that actually neither of them could've done really anything without each other. Mello used a spy in the SPK to establish that Kira's weapon of choice was a notebook, which kicked off his plan to hunt the book down. Near used Mello's information after the explosion to determine that there was a Shinigami attached to the notebook, and that the 13-day rule was fake. Mello used Near to investigate Mogi, and subsequently, when that fell through, used Lidner to access Near's information about everything except the exact identity of X-Kira. Then, of course, Near needed Mello to kidnap Takada and subsequently reveal the true location of the Death Note. It's very much a back-and-forth, and even if Mello doesn't necessarily accept the idea that they can achieve more when working together, he definitely seems to understand that he needs Near to get ahead in some capacity. Dead Near = no information.

Secondly, there's the fact that Mello's entire motivation is to catch Kira before Near. I could talk about this extensively but I think, at its core, this is pretty straightforward. Mello wants a satisfying victory, and it doesn't really work if there's no one left alive for him to beat. There's a possibility that he could catch Kira on his own, but what would be the point of that if no one else he deems a worthy competitor is even trying to? He doesn't want handouts. He doesn't want a win by default. He wants to win fair and square, against a rival who is alive and well and in his right mind. Dead Near = no competition.

Then on a more emotional note - and this might be slightly more speculative but - it really doesn't seem to me like Mello actually hates Near??? When he talks to or about Near, it's either focused largely on himself/his personal desire to prove himself ("I'm always number two... no matter how hard I try..."; "I'll be number one") or actually pretty positive stuff about Near being better than him ("Near will calmly and unemotionally solve the puzzle"; "I know you're good at that stuff"). This is not to say that he likes Near either, but rather that he recognises that Near is very skilled in his own right, and what drives him is specifically proving that he himself is just as, if not more, skilled than Near. This makes more sense to me than him having a genuine vendetta against Near as a person and wanting him to suffer. He flies off the handle and aims a gun at Near when he feels like Near is treating him as a pawn, but by the end of that scene, he's smirking and talking about "waiting for [Near]" at the finish line, which seems like a weird thing to say to someone you a) were genuinely trying to kill a moment ago, and b) still actively want dead. I think this was a knee-jerk reaction to a phrase that struck a nerve and made him feel disrespected, rather than a legitimate assassination attempt.

I feel like to really understand Mello's feelings towards Near, you have to understand where they come from in the first place, and it's not because he feels Near has done wrong by him. It's not because he finds Near generally annoying or unpleasant to be around. It's because he was raised as a potential successor to L, and he hinges his self-worth on the notion of becoming L. While L was alive, his metric for success was to be personally chosen by him, but since L died without ever choosing, Mello set a new objective that would determine who is most worthy. Try to solve the one case that L couldn't, and whoever could do that first would win. So I think his goal actually has a lot less to do with Near as a person and a lot more to do with Near as a symbol, for all he represents and the ways in which his existence shapes Mello's own self-perception. With all this in mind, there's actually no explicit reason for him to want Near dead. For L and Light, the rules of their game were such that the winner would be the survivor. For Mello and Near, their game relies on both of them being alive.

My final note about all of this is that Near is pretty insistent that Mello doesn't want him dead ("If you want to shoot me, shoot"; "Mello wouldn't try to kill me"). Near demonstrates a very deep and accurate understanding of the intricacies of Mello's motivations, so I feel like that counts for something, too.

[arleniansdoodles]

If you don't mind, I would like to ask:

Are there any happy or joyful moments between Noa and Mae?

Such as Mae singing childhood songs, those rhytmic ones? Or dancing around the campfire? Maybe Noa telling humorous tales from his childhood or him having contagious laugh so Mae laughs too?

It's just that they deserve some happy moments too.

I don't mind at all! I agree, they definitely deserve some happy moments :''')

I assume you're asking about my headcanons; I like to imagine Noa would show Mae how to care for the eagles! He'd teach her the clan's songs and the stories behind them; then he finds out she sings pretty well (Freya Allan has a beautiful singing voice btw) and asks about human songs.

So Mae turns to the old children's tunes and nursery rhymes kept alive in the bunker's archives (maybe her mom sang some to her when she was a kid). Maybe Noa finds the meanings funny or confusing, but either way, he's curious about human music XD

I also headcanon that she teaches Noa (plus Soona and Anaya) how to dance! I don't know if Eagle Clan has any dances, but Mae would show them the "swaying side to side" method loll In turn, Noa teaches Mae how to climb better XD

Thanks for the ask! I love thinking about these two <333

[acapelladitty]

When The Lights Go Out: Riddler

Summary: Richard Madison is a crook but a strange encounter with a man calling himself Edward Nygma may prove to be his undoing.

Part 1: When The Lights Go Out: Scarecrow

AO3 Link ☆ Fic Masterlist

The miraculous release of Walter Johnstone from his asylum incarceration was not the only odd thing to have occurred in Gotham that day. Nor would it be the last.

It was certainly a day that Richard Madison was never likely to forget.

If you asked the average person to describe Richard Madison they would have a host of phrases ready to spring forth in his praise. As sweet as sugar, one might claim. Honest as they come, another would cry. A good man with a good heart. However, there were those who saw another side to the man and those individuals would quietly lament his misdeeds and misgivings.

Both opinions are entirely valid to their holders, as all opinions are, however those who believed in him were only witness to the facade which he presented to the world.

To put it simply, Richard Madison was a crook.

Oh, how people loved being around Richard. They whispered promises in his ears, slipped offerings into his pockets, and overall doted on him in exchange for the opportunity to engage. To have their needs met.

And he was never a man to deny the people their needs.

When it suited him.

Emerging from the elevator to his private office, his shoulder clicked as he stretched his arms before him to prepare for the next few hours of sitting at his computer and running his small empire from the comfort of his favourite chair.

However, an unexpected sight stopped him dead in his tracks.

Standing in his office as though he belonged there, lounged a suited man. His body was on the thinner side and even from this distance Richard could tell that the bottle green suit, expertly styled as it cinched his frame, was cut from expensive cloth. Boyish features shone from a face which could not have been a day over forty and his appearance was made all the more striking by the shock of flame red hair which sat atop his head, mostly covered by a lurid green bowler hat which perfectly matched the shade of his suit.

“Richard Madison!” The man exclaimed in a showman voice, his excitement radiating from him in waves. “In the flesh! The man of the hour!”

Reaching out as he approached Richard’s stunned position, he gripped his hand in a firm grasp before shaking with an almost comedic level of effort. His arm swinging up and down in the grasp of the madman, Richard politely let go before hiding his hand within his pocket to prevent any further touching.

“Who are you?” Richard asked. This was his private office and absolutely no one got in here without first jumping through a series of hoops designed to keep out any 'undesirables'. “And what the hell are you doing here?” He allowed his shock to manifest as anger as he roared at the red-haired man.

“Lovely office,” throwing an arm out with great flourish, the man ignored the open aggression to gesture wildly around the room, “you must tell me who your decorator is.”

The stark minimalism of his office stared back at him as Richard's eyes swept the room. His room was boring, intentionally designed as such, so was he joking?

“Look, buddy, I don't thin-” cutting himself off, Richard clenched and unclenched his fist as he repeated his earlier question. “Who are hell are you?!”

“My name is Edward Nygma.” Flashing a smile, Edward dropped his head in a dramatic nod and allowed the green bowler hat to topple from his scalp and into his waiting hands before tucking it below his arm. “It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Madison. May I call you Richard?”

Now exposed, his red hair was perfectly coiffed into an old-fashioned style which felt very out of place in the modern office.

“I suppose.”

“What about Dick?”

Pursing his lips as his eyes narrowed, Richard was unable to tell if this man was mocking him or his earnest manner was genuine.

“I usually insist on Richard.”

“Then feel free to call me Edward.” Edward answered. “And to answer your earlier question, I am here to make you an offer which I know you will be unable to resist. We are both men of knowledge and money, so I know that you will want to hear what I have to say.”

“I’m not a trader.” Richard spat back, the surreal nature of this meeting making his aggression feel more performative that anything. “If you want me to invest in some shit you’re cooking up then go to Wall Street and pitch to the sons of bitches there.”

“Oh, I met the fools at Wall Street. Quite a long time ago.” Smirking as lips curled into a smile, Edward flashed his white teeth. “I gave them all the clues and all the opportunities to be honest men and they chose to ignore me. And then? Can you believe it? BANG!”

At this, Richard jumped in place as Edward smacked his hand against his thigh with some force.

“It all came crashing down. The Wall Street Crash, they called it. More than a few brains came to decorate the nearby paving after that, but they can't say they hadn't been warned. I gave them every chance.”

He's definitely mad, Richard thought. Edward did not look a day over forty and yet he had the gall to claim that he was present for the Wall Street collapse in the 30's?

“Talking like that will get you locked up in Arkham.” Richard warned.

“Oh no,” Edward exclaimed, “oh no, no, no! That would never do! I am far too intelligent for that and besides,” leaning in close as though divulging some information that only he was privy to, the green of Edward’s eyes twinkled madly for a moment, “an old friend has already made himself comfortable in those harrowed halls. It would be rude for me intrude on his delicate work.”

“You have connections in Arkham?” Such things were not unheard of and Richard himself had at least one guard on his payroll to ensure that the odd piece of information here and there fell into his hands. “Staff or guests?” He added.

“Staff today could be guests tomorrow and vice-versa. Let's not judge people based on their current position, particularly when that position is fragile at best. Fantastic things are afoot in Gotham right beneath your nose,” Edward insisted, “and my associates and I are here to see what she has to offer. So much filth and rot and chaos all wrapped in a pretty package of gothic architecture and urban landscaping.”

“Associates?”

“Oh, don't you worry, Richard. You are very unlikely to ever meet them as we tend to stick to our roles somewhat rigidly.”

“I need to make a phone call.” Richard interjected quickly. “Excuse me.”

Quickly retreating back to the doors of the elevator, Richard snatched his mobile from his suit pocket and quickly hit one of the numbers on his speed dial. This man, Edward, seemed to have decent connections and money to his name but he wanted to be sure before moving any further.

To his luck, his secretary picked up after only two rings.

“Hello, Richard Madison’s office. How may I direct your call?” Came a feminine droll from the other end of the line.

“Hey, Sam.” Relieved to hear a familiar voice, Richard continued. “Need you to run a quick background check for me.”

“Sure, boss.”

“Claims his name is 'Edward Nygma'. Never heard of him before but he looks like he has some decent coin behind him.”

“Okay. And where is he currently?”

“Standing inside my office.”

An audible hitch of breath.

“Okay, boss.”

Immediately on to business, Richard could hear the frantic tapping of her keyboard as she sought out the information he needed.

“The name is coming up here, boss.” As though reading from a script, Sam listed off her findings. “Edward Nygma. Business owner and entrepreneur. Apparently considered rather handsome. Worth…”

A pause.

“What?” Richard asked.

“Billions. Christ, he could put Wayne outta business. He’s absolutely loaded.”

“Billions! How have we not heard his name before?”

“He's a noted recluse. Very little personal details available here. All I can see is that his net worth is mind-blowing but the only thing he has name officially to is a production line of different types of toys.”

“Child toys?”

“Puzzle toys. For all ages and ranges.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. It’s not a lot to go on but it’s definitely there. Good source too. He's legit.”

Hanging up with a shaking finger, Richard could smell opportunity like a shark could blood. A noted recluse worth billions, right here in his office. He could take advantage of this in a way which he and all others had been unable to do so with Bruce Wayne; a man so wrapped up in his holier-than-thou attitude that he refused to engage in any business which would dirty his hands.

Richard hated him.

Taking a deep breath, he dropped his phone back into his pocket and started to move back towards Edward. He had not moved an inch since Richard had disappeared, but his attention was wholly focused on something which was clutched between his hands. As he approached, the flash of the brightly-coloured item in Edward's palm also drew Richard's attention and he squinted as though a sharp light had accosted him.

“What's in your hands?”

Rolling the offending object between his fingers with a practised ease, Edward brought it into the space between them.

“This?” He asked. “A curious little thing. I am very fond of puzzles and I haven't seen anything quite like this before.”

Recognising the piece, Richard squinted once again.

“A rubix's cube?” He asked, incredulous.

Who is their right mind had never seen a Rubix cube before?

“Rubix cube.” Edward repeated with a look of contemplation. “After the man who created it?”

“I guess.” Confused as to what exact relevance the puzzle held to the current discussion, Richard gestured vaguely with his hands. “I don't know what this has to do with-”

“Oh, of course! Of course!” Exclaiming loudly, Edward slapped a hand good-naturedly on his knee as he smiled. “Excuse my ramblings but you must forgive an old man his pleasures.”

“Would you like a drink?”

“Watered down whisky doesn’t agree with me, Dick,” Edward declined. “And I would think a man like yourself would want to watch his health. The liver can be a tricky old thing, especially six years down the line.”

“So, what can I do for you, Mr. Nygma? I doubt this is a social call since we don’t, uh, know each other.”

“I have an opportunity which you would be a damned fool to pass up on. A new line of puzzle and magic toys, fabricated and distributed across Gotham and her sister cities.”

With Edward waving his hand around, Richard was able to catch a glimpse of his watch and found himself momentarily stunned by the beautiful timepiece and the various gemstones which were embedded within.

“Toys? Just toys? Surely we cou-”

“I have meetings today with others, including a meeting with a very interesting man named Wayne who seems to have taken a liking to my products,” Edward grinned.

Richard’s chest clenched with anger at the familiar name and he immediately backpeddled on his scepticism, “That won’t be necessary. I would love to enter into a business deal with you, Mr. Nygma. I hear you have quite the reputation.”

“I’m certain I do,” Edward replied, “and I would like to bring you onboard before I return to my other duties. $10 million would suffice as a minor investment, one which would see major returns.”

Wincing at the amount but desperate to keep the vaguely gullible and eccentric billionaire within his grasp, greed already blinding his thoughts as he imagines various ways of involving the fool with his less pleasant ventures, Richard nodded at the proposed amount.

The conversation flowed smoothly after that, discussions of timescales and proposed returns forcing Richard into the belief that he was making a smart choice. His mind focused despite the whirling nature of Edward’s demeanour; Richard felt the thrill of his greed thrumming in his veins as he catered to his latest potential cash cow.

“So, do we have a deal, Dick?”

Extending his hand with a showman smile, Edward allowed it to hang in the air between them with a sense of finality.

Willing to ignore the nickname this one time, Richard nodded once more and accepted the handshake before dropping his hand to his inner pocket. Mobile phone in hand, it took Richard less than five minutes to have the investment money wired over to Edward’s accounts – ensuring that he retained a firm copy of all Edward’s account details should anything go awry with their deal.

“This account is one of my more selective accounts and I would appreciate its use being kept on the quieter side of things. I am sure you understand,” Richard muttered with a put-on smile.

“Of course, of course! My lips are sealed.” Edward winked, placing his bowler hat atop his head with a dramatic flourish. “A silent account for a silent partner.”

His smirk actually blossoming into a genuine smile, Richard took the initiative to end their meeting.

“A pleasure, Mr Nygma. I hope to work with you again.”

Tilting his head with a wicked smirk of his own, Edward answered in kind.

“I’m sure you’ll think of our partnership often.”

x-x-x-x-x

Stepping into the familiar office of Salvatore Maroni, Richard inclined his head to the goons who remained on guard as he joined both the owner of the office and their mutual friend, Daniel Mockingbird, by taking a seat on the only available chair.

“Evening, boys. Pour me a decent one, eh, Sal?” Richard asked, inclining his empty whisky glass to Maroni. A glass which was quickly filled with amber liquid as the man in question poured him a healthy slosh of scotch.

“You’re chipy as fuck today, Richard. Balls finally drop?” Mockingbird cut in, his thick Italian accent glossing over the words with ease.

“Funny,” Richard deadpanned as he sank a gulp of the scotch, “but anyway, how has your week been gentlemen?”

“Great, I got me a new business partner and I think he’s going to be one for the books, boys,” sipping from his own glass, Maroni appeared pleased with himself as he divulged his luck to the other two.

Surprised, given his own unmade announcement, Richard inclined his hand to Maroni as he indicated for him to continue.

“Yeah, some fucking freak. Came here to ask me to partner on an investment deal for some shitty kids toys and-”

“Bullshit!” Mockingbird called out, surprising both men at the outburst. “You met with Nygma too?”

Open shock playing on his face as he watched the two speak, Richard dropped his hands to his lap as his head darted between the two like a tennis match.

“Yeah. Showed up here asking for $10 million.” Maroni confirmed.

“Fuck! Same from me.”

“Same, huh? For the toy business?”

“Yeah, for the fucking toy business. He didn’t say nothing about having other partners.” Running a hand through his slickened hair, Mockingbird was clearly unimpressed with the fact that his great deal had not been as exclusive as he thought. “Jesus Christ man, $20 million from us both. Sneaky fuc-”

“$30 million,” Richard intercut with a frown. “I also received a visitor yesterday.”

Genuinely speechless, all three men grumbled their discontent into their glasses as they observed the others with open suspicion. Their friendship was tenuous, agreements always being settled under the table to ensure that the dirt they could hold over each other was limited, and an event like this would only breed discontent.

Unable to muse for too long as his phone started vibrating madly in his pocket, Richard pulled it free with a gruff greeting as he pressed it against his ear.

“Mr. Madison, we have a problem.”

Sam. Sounding thoroughly distraught as her voice stuttered across the words.

“What is it?” Richard asked, a sinking feeling dropping his chest into his stomach.

“It’s gone, Sir. Everything. All the money from the secret account.”

His heart stuttering at the information, Richard barely noticed when both Maroni and Mockingbird picked up their own ringing mobiles.

“What the fuck do you mean it’s gone?”

“The account is empty, Sir. The $10 million transferred through to the Nygma account but the rest has disappeared. It’s gone, Sir.”

“No, no-NO!” Richard snapped, snarling his words down the phone. “You find me that money, Sam. Find it and get it back. Hunt down that fuck Nygma if you need to because I think he has something to do with it.”

Slamming his phone shut, his heart pounding in his ears as his blood pressure reached new levels, Richard zoned back into his companions to find that all hell had broken loose across both men. Maroni’s face was a stunning shade of puce as he screamed insults into his mobile while Mockingbird was speaking in Italian at record speed, his expression equally as angry.

Allowing both men the time to finish their phone calls as they went through a similar disbelieving anger to himself, Richard understood without a doubt that they had all been swindled in a similar fashion.

“What the fuck is happening?” Mockingbird hissed, throwing his glass to the floor as the scotch splashed across the carpet. “One of my private accounts has been tanked! Gutted! Fucking robbed!”

Maroni pulled his lips back into a snarl, “Same here! Fuck! The account I used yesterday. That sneaky fuck Nygma is behind this and I’m going to find him, boys.”

“Pull our resources! I’m going to kill that red-haired fuck.” Richard added with a roar.

“Red hair?” Mockingbird face was confused despite the rage, “You mean black hair? Short little fucker too, only about 5ft? Weasley as fuck.”

“What?” Squinting, Richard shook his head. “No. He was wiry with red hair, probably about my height and thin as an addicts piss. Sal?”

His voice so low that both men struggled to pick up on his exact words, Maroni growled his own description.

“Brown hair. Slicked back. Slight build on him. Had a stupid cane with him. I even got the bastard on record.”

Snatching out a voice recorder from a nearby desk drawer, Maroni fiddled with it before clicking play on the recorder as all three men stared at it with narrowed eyes.

“-an excellent choice, Mr Maroni! I admire your taste in being able to pick up on a good deal when it comes your way. So, let’s get down to business and I can be on my way. Shall we say around $10 million as an investment? With that I cou-”

His heart racing at the familiar voice, Richard saw a similar look of rage on Mockingbirds’ face as he listened to the recording.

“That’s him!” Mockingbird grunted, his fists clenched against his lap. “That’s the smart-mouthed cunt.”

“How the fuck can that be the same man we all met?” Richard asked reasonably, rage giving way to confusion. “Sure, he could wear a wig or change his clothes, but his height? He wasn’t a fucking magician. This shouldn’t be a fucking riddle. How much did he take from you?”

Directing the question to both men, the grave looks he received in response no doubt mirrored his own. If their loss was as great as his own then they were looking at an easy collective loss of over a hundred million. A hundred million dollars, gone in a puff of smoke.

All dirty.

All untraceable.

As it was designed to be.

It was a perfect theft.

“Play the bastards voice again, Sal.” Mockingbird hissed. “I want it committed to memory so I can remember to have his tongue ripped out when we catch the prick.”

Thick fingers pressing the play button of the audio recorder, Maroni startled in place as the casual conversation which had previously been loaded on the device was replaced by a loud, cackling laughter – the rising cacophony of Edward’s mirth making all three men shiver in place as something dark curled around the joyful sound and rattled them to their cores.

Richard Madison was a crook, but he was no fool, and, as Mockingbird fixed himself with the sign of the cross, Richard could not shake the furious anxiety which seared in his chest as he realised that something evil had held counsel with him in his office yesterday and that his money was gone somewhere he did not dare to follow.

[fishfingersandjellybabies]

±, jondami

death headcanons

~~

I think it might depend. If they live happily and grow old and just die naturally, I think it’s peaceful. Granted, I think whoever dies second just continues to mourn and grieve for the rest of his days (and if it’s Damian I think he would purposefully put himself in some kind of harm’s way to ‘accidentally’ die and be reunited with Jon sooner) but I think the death itself is peaceful. Quiet. Nothing is left unsaid.

If one of them is killed, oh boy.

If Jon is killed, I think Damian will go into a blind rage for a few days. He’ll indiscriminately hurt those around him, maybe go too far a few times, and have to be sedated/restrained. If Jon’s killer isn’t caught on scene, then Damian puts all his rage into finding the fucker, and attempting to take an eye for an eye. (Clark and/or Lois stop him.)

Then he just…stops. I think losing Jon would be a trauma he wouldn’t recover from. I won’t even say he just grieves forever, but literally just stops. Goes numb. He stops being a hero. He stops doing art. Without Jon, there’s just no point, not in anything. So he becomes a recluse. He just stops.

If Damian is ever killed (again)…good luck. Jon would go insane with fury. Think Injustice!Clark on steroids. He’d kill Damian’s killer before anyone could blink. It’d probably be his first kill, and I don’t think he’d ever feel bad about it. Because that person took Damian, took his Damian, and they deserve to pay for it.

Everyone deserves to pay for it.

I think Jon would blame everyone around him, but the Batfamily the most. If Clark was involved in the situation, I think he’d blame his own father too. He’d hate them. And he’d tell them how much he hated them every time he saw them. How they failed Damian. How he would happily trade all of them to whatever god there was to get Damian back.

In fact, he tries. He goes to Talia. He begs for a pit. She denies him, reminds him how it’s not what Damian would want, he made that clear to all of them long ago. So Jon hates her too. Reminds her that she never deserved him. Talia reminds him that he never did either.

But when he’s alone, he’s ashamed of himself. Knows Damian would be ashamed of him too. For his weakness, for his self destructiveness. So he runs. He’s always running. Always working, always heroing. Anything to not be alone, to not think about Damian and his loss. To not see the ones he blames for it.

And if anyone hears agonizing, howling screams up in the clouds every so often, well. The people of Metropolis have stopped mentioning it.

[frigid-m-grim]

Can you draw Blind!Zooble and Caretaker!Gangle?

couldn't resist making that one meme in here with it-

[giddlygoat]

Do you do drawing requests? If so. Liquiroot? If not, I hope you have a lovely day and get cake, I hope you get cake even if it is yes lol

i don’t like most of these so i just kept drawing in order to get them Right but i don’t think i ever did LAWL

however anon thank you SO much for requesting this bc it gave me an excuse to draw them more <3 i love reggie and bud but i haven’t quiiiite figured out their dynamic yet so drawing them together is a bit tough. i’d love to sit and listen to a liquiroot enjoyer talk about them though like i’m intrigued. me when there’s a plant guy and a dude made of water 🫶💕🌅