im-not-too-sure00

[im-not-too-sure00]

I haven’t had the chance to work on any Jurdan art, but here’s the black and white version of my colored first kiss scene!,

[im-not-too-sure00]

I think anyone that studies medicine with Damian would lowkey hate his ass.

Not in a mean way, but in a petty why-aren't-you-struggling-like-me type of way. I mean, thanks to Robin and the league Damian is light years ahead of everyone on terms of experience and it would show.

Half the class is puking their guts out the first time they see a patient with an open fracture. Damian has been there, done that, seen that and worse. He's eating m&m's in the back.

They're all practicing making sutures until late. Damian is like "No, I don't need to join you. I could suture with my eyes closed" and then when someone is like "prove it, rich-boy" that mf actually blindfolds his eyes and sutures perfectly using four different techniques.

He also passes everything with flying colors! Because of course, the guy can't just be rich, good looking and famous, he has to be smart too.

And it just gets worse when he starts his actual residency.

Nothing shakes him! Thirty hour shifts? He doesn't even yawn. Extreme stress during a surgery gone awry? Damian is the one telling the other members of the surgical team to stay calm. Violent patient? They don't even get to call security, Damian has the guy pinned already.

And it would be easier to not get jealous of him if he somehow was a souless blood sucking asshole. But Damian is a good person, awkward and standoffish but always willing to help. He's there for whatever people need. He aids nurses, listens to patients, conforts victims. He sits with people for the bad news and when someone dies he gets this sad faraway look that shows he cares.

And it's just so unfair.

[im-not-too-sure00]

Head canon: Kaz reads the paper to Inej. 

It started when Inej was learning to read Kerch and Kaz would make her read the newspaper to him for practice. She was so annoyed by his corrections that she got him to promise that when she was fluent to his satisfaction he would return the favor. 

It’s been going on for years – from before they were even together. Inej loves the sound of his voice and Kaz loves being superior and curating the news for her. When she’s gone at sea, he saves articles he thinks are important or that he thinks she’d like. 

Edited to add: If you want to read a story with a small scene of newspaper reading: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49505956

[im-not-too-sure00]

Six of Crows - finally got all of them together!

Prints available on my etsy.

[im-not-too-sure00]

Battle

Taglist: @painful-pooch @i-eat-worlds @a-funeral-romance @rainydaywhump

Angstpril: alt prompt 1: troubled mind

Inspired by these two prompts by @hurtmyfavsthanks and an anon ask she received. I saw the more recent one and just wrote this straight up within a couple of hours, unable to resist it.

1k

CWs: living weapon, outcast whumpee, magical whumpee, low self-esteem, betrayal kinda, mentions of battle and casualties, mentioned past discrimination

Whumpee doesn't remember much of the battle.

It went by in a haze. They remember red, people falling, screams, unsure which side they were on. They remember the glee, the euphoria, of using their magic. The high of it all.

Now they're starting to come down from that high, and they can see the fear in people's eyes. The injuries, the casualties. Vaguely, they wonder who caused them. Was it them again?

Hands cup their face, gentle, calloused. The only ones that will ever touch them anymore.

Caretaker's.

"Hey. Look at me, now. Not the camp. Me." Whumpee looks up hesitantly, into their loving, warm eyes. One day they'll change. One day... one day they'll harden. Fear, hatred. From all the people they've hurt, on all sides. One day it'll be too much. They're afraid of the day they'll see that, of what will happen then.

But it hasn't happened yet.

Caretaker wipes their cheek softly. "It's okay. Come on, rest. Lay your head down. You're done for today. Close your eyes and rest."

Whumpee crawls into Caretaker's lap. They vaguely register being carried, head being lifted until it meets Caretaker's neck. Whumpee nuzzles into it.

"Shh. You did so well. You're doing so well, Whumpee. I'm proud of you."

Whumpee doesn't want to be. They want to grow flowers. But this is what their magic likes, this is what their king likes, this is what makes Caretaker say those words of praise in just that voice, so they can't stop.

(They ignore the small voice in their head that says that they have no idea what Caretaker's reaction to flowers would be. This is exhilarating, even if they feel an ever-growing bubble of shame at the endless, ruthless violence.)

Caretaker runs a hand through their hair, combing out the knots from the day's work, using a little water to clean the worst of the blood. Whumpee has been through this so many times that they know what to expect without even a glance. He won't hurt them with those eyes. They know his expression, his feelings, and they curl their arms and legs closer around him.

He's so warm.

"S'okay buddy. I'm here."

"Hmm."

Whumpee closes their eyes. It's so... so... they don't think they can sleep yet but they find themself drifting on the exhaustion the magical high always brings.

_

The next morning is... the next morning. As it always is with a new squad, it is very different to the first one.

And as it always is, Whumpee feels a sharp stab of hurt.

The soldiers know who they are, what they are. Have done since the very beginning .They've worked with Whumpee on the preparations, the journey here, for weeks. They know them. Sat around the campfire, shared meals, joked and talked and laughed. They'd been wished good luck yesterday morning, hair ruffled, smiles and reassurances in abundance. Soldier had even fixed their horse's saddle after the straps started to break. Now...

Now, they won't come within arms length of them. Soldier ladles out breakfast to the rest, leaving an empty bowl several feet from Whumpee, not looking them in the eye as he leaves them to fetch their own. He flinches along with several others as they approach the campfire, more whose hands jerk towards their swords. As if they're going to attack. As if they're so out of control that they'd attack their own side on purpose.

They reluctantly let go of Caretaker's hand so he can fetch their breakfast and the healing potion alone. At least he looks them in the eye. At least he sits with them, and talks, and touches them. Helps convince them to take the potion, even though it's bitter and rancid and no-one will improve it for the likes of them, and they won't need it once the adrenaline and euphoria of tomorrow's battle kicks in.

The kindness is only for now. It will change, sooner or later.

Nobody helps the pair of them take down their tent, or pack their saddlebags, and the Sergeant looks about to stop Whumpee from replacing the emergency set of daggers they carry in their boots at all times. A gift from Caretaker.

It's like they have the plague. Or the Devil's Touch, as their old villagers used to say.

They're pretty much alone in the clearing now, the rest of the squad staying as far away as they can without letting Whumpee out of their sight. Just in case they explode or something.

Without a word, Whumpee settles down on the ground beside the smoldering fire, Caretaker sitting on the log behind them. It's a sharply cold morning, dew dampening their breeches, but their leather armour keeps them surprisingly warm.

Caretaker braids their hair quickly and simply, just enough to keep it out of their face. Battlefields aren't the place for complicated hairstyles. Which is a shame, because Caretaker takes pride in that skill, and Whumpee delights in being allowed to display the results.

Whumpee dries their face with the cloth Caretaker hands them wordlessly. They need to get it together. It's not like it's the end of the world or anything. They try to summon the ease by which they sometimes prepare, the eagerness instead of dread that comes with a lot of battles.

It doesn't come. Today is a day for dread, then, and there's nothing they can do about it but pray for a miracle. And a break in the hatred and fear, the violence with which everyone rejects them.

They can't help thinking, though, that the amount of damage they've done, it's no wonder people want them locked away. They are a weapon, after all.

Yes. Definitely one of the bad days.

Caretaker's their handler. They try not to think about it but it's true. He's the only one who might see it, might offer them a brief reprieve. So they summon up all their courage.

"Please..."

Caretaker finishes the braid and kisses their temple. "I'm so sorry, Whumpee. I really am. But you need to do this. We need to do this. The kingdom needs you."

Whumpee nods. They don't blame Caretaker, not really. They need to win this war. And Whumpee needs to use their magic.

But gods do they wish they could stop.

[im-not-too-sure00]

doomed family

[im-not-too-sure00]

Some dick Grayson as robin drawings I made a bit ago😭🫶🏻 did these ones as a study to practice this style

[im-not-too-sure00]

parents & pedigree [x] [x]

[im-not-too-sure00]

Dec 4: Remember that time we learned Clark Kent totally peeked at all his Christmas presents with his X-Ray vision? (Justice League, “Comfort and Joy”)

[im-not-too-sure00]

Damian Wayne comes across a classic christmas carol known well among the children of gotham… pt [1/?]

[im-not-too-sure00]

Leonid Pasternak  (Ukrainian, 1862–1945) - The Torments of Creative Work

[im-not-too-sure00]

bok bok bok bok baaawk 🐔

[im-not-too-sure00]

[im-not-too-sure00]

“Black’s gaunt face broke into the first true smile Harry had seen upon it. The difference it made was startling, as though a person ten years younger were shining through the starved mask; for a moment, he was recognizable as the man who had laughed at Harry’s parents’ wedding.”

-

-

-

This is another one of my favorite parts of Prisoner of Azkaban, especially the description of Sirius’ smile. Every time I cry my eyes out!😭

[im-not-too-sure00]

ON A RELATED NOTE to your solider/prisoner of war whump: Whumpee that's injured and left for dead on the battlefield gets found by the enemy. Do they help whumpee out? Do they whump them harder? Little bit of both? 👀

Love those tropes! these are non-linear, not a specific story just some ideas that inspired...

[delayed oops!]

Living weapon left for dead, taken prisoner by the enemy

Like, maybe they find them and they're like "this is the one that's been killing our guys!!"

Maybe they're crying or screaming in pain and the enemy soldiers just gather around watching them, prodding them with their boots, kicking them. "Serves them right."

Dragging them back to base at their officer's command so whumpee can be questioned. "I hope they torture you, you cold-hearted bastard."

Or, "look at these wounds... These aren't battle wounds... This isn't something our people would do, man..." "We can't just leave them here..."

"hey." Snaps fingers. "You alive? Yeah? You wanna stay that way? Get up."

Whumpee maintaining a grim silence at the interrogation table as the enemy captain starts slapping their head, standing up, yelling, trying to intimidate them.

"I can't tell you. I wish I could, but--" "why not?" "What whumper will do to me... You couldn't come close."

Mid-interrogation manhandling for intimidation, whumpee's shirt comes up over their back, revealing bruises and long, red welts. With a shocked silence, the interrogator shoves them away, staring at whumpee.

"what did they do to you?"

Whumpee blindsided by mercy, from the enemy. Trying not to cry as one of the soldiers sits down by their bed to talk, pushing a packet of pain meds and a glass of water across the table to them.

Enemy doctor coming in to treat their lash wounds and their face is openly horrified.

[im-not-too-sure00]

ON A RELATED NOTE to your solider/prisoner of war whump: Whumpee that's injured and left for dead on the battlefield gets found by the enemy. Do they help whumpee out? Do they whump them harder? Little bit of both? 👀

Love those tropes! these are non-linear, not a specific story just some ideas that inspired...

[delayed oops!]

Living weapon left for dead, taken prisoner by the enemy

Like, maybe they find them and they're like "this is the one that's been killing our guys!!"

Maybe they're crying or screaming in pain and the enemy soldiers just gather around watching them, prodding them with their boots, kicking them. "Serves them right."

Dragging them back to base at their officer's command so whumpee can be questioned. "I hope they torture you, you cold-hearted bastard."

Or, "look at these wounds... These aren't battle wounds... This isn't something our people would do, man..." "We can't just leave them here..."

"hey." Snaps fingers. "You alive? Yeah? You wanna stay that way? Get up."

Whumpee maintaining a grim silence at the interrogation table as the enemy captain starts slapping their head, standing up, yelling, trying to intimidate them.

"I can't tell you. I wish I could, but--" "why not?" "What whumper will do to me... You couldn't come close."

Mid-interrogation manhandling for intimidation, whumpee's shirt comes up over their back, revealing bruises and long, red welts. With a shocked silence, the interrogator shoves them away, staring at whumpee.

"what did they do to you?"

Whumpee blindsided by mercy, from the enemy. Trying not to cry as one of the soldiers sits down by their bed to talk, pushing a packet of pain meds and a glass of water across the table to them.

Enemy doctor coming in to treat their lash wounds and their face is openly horrified.

[im-not-too-sure00]

Ok but- Harry somehow got lost in the castle one day, maybe in the beginning when he didn’t know his way around yet. And Severus is at first annoyed but later he’s  just freakin worried out of his mind like, he knows the castle is relatively safe BuT WhAt If And lil Harry is just so stressed and scared like that time he got lost at the supermarket and the Dursleys almost left him there intentionally???

Idk