#OT TOOK SO LONG TO DRAW

[clownpalette]

TSUKI NO-

NEW STYLE?!?? 😍😍😍

PLS INTERACT OR I'LL CRY

[lavendel081]

"I want to hold you too."

 Based on a HC, that since Eris is a city girl, she hugs her friends goodbye. Seb feels left out.

I worked really hard on this, and I’m happy I did it. I’ll go pass out now.

[elsa-fogen]

i just wanna say first of all. you have been feeding my brainrot for the past month, tHANK YOU for that

2nd of all, do you have any head canons for Al about when he was alive? how do you think the story played out leading up until his death? I personally love hearing ppls takes on this

THANK YOU for enjoying my things ^^ 💖💖

Oh boyy that's a question about human Alastor. That's probably a great opportunity to draw him, huh? But i'M SO SCARED FOR SOME REASON?? You see, i saw many human versions, and very few of them actually looked like Alastor, SOO YEEAHH. I'm afraid to lose his vibe when i make his human form. But OKAY. I'LL TRY.

here we go. You have no idea how long it took for me to make my self to draw this fdolfdljfldsfsd

soo........ is is still Alastor or should i work more on his human design...

btw, guess where did i get colors for his hair and eyes :> (*pointing at myself* hehehehehehrehhwhrhhwhe there)

I don't actully have full story/headcanon for all of his life, but i have some points (tho i'm still ot sure about some of them)

I know that he was mixed, but let's say he also whitepassed for the sake of my own sanity

His first victim was his father, and he was 17 when that happened (his father killed his mother when was drunk)

- Alastor burned his house with his dad inside and enjoyed his screams

After that he faked his age and went to the WW1

He injured his leg there and was sent home (also his eyesight might worsen there)

he's enjoying beating the shit out of people with his cane

I don't have any solid headcanons after that because it needs researching and UGHSHDG i'm so lazy for it... But yeah, he became a radio host, he killed people and he were a cannibal. And then was shot while burring the body. the end.

[hashtagonlyingotham]

i think i might have befriended poison ivy?? ok so, i love drawing plants and i would often go to the local greenhouses to draw some of the beautiful flowers there and i caught sight of her talking to some of the plants and tending them. it didnt look like she noticed me, and ive always wanted to draw her, so i took the oppertunity. apparently i was so engrossed with my drawing, i didnt notice her come up to me and compliment of my drawing of her. i let her have the drawing i did of her, and she seemed really appreciative of it! i tolde her how much i loved drawing her, cuz ot gave me a chance to practice drawing plants and people, so its a win-win for me and she said im always welcome to draw here as long as id like to

#onlyingotham #ithinkshe likesmydrawings??? #tobefairthe greenhouseisreallycalmingforme #solongasiremembertotakemyallergymedsbeforegoingthere #thanksforlettingmyhangoutanddrawherepoisonivy!

‎

[akutasoda]

Hello!! Can I pls request Cyno , Tignari with a shy artist reader(gn)? The Y/n draws really well and dedicated the picture to them.(reader is very shy to show they creative pictures) (´･ω･`)

masterpieces

synopsis - your a brilliant artist and they want you to be proud and show off your pieces

includes - tighnari, cyno

warnings - gn!reader, artist reader, fluff, slight crack, wc - 697

a/n: this was absolutely adorable!

tighnari ★↷

he would call himself a rather avid sketcher. it was maily of the various plants and wildlife that were located out and around sumeru so he had his fair share in experience with sketching atleast.

but then he met you and not toput himself down, but his work absolutely paled in comparison to yours. he absolutely adored it. it didn't matter what you drew, it could be a portrait of someone, sumeru landscapes or whatever. he loved them all.

so when you two started dating it became a common occurrence for him to offer you to join for sketching. he would always subtly ask for tips to improve his own sketching.

but he knew you disliked showing your work and he never got why. even if you were just naturally shy he still didn't understand but he could somewhat relate in a slightly different way however.

and recently he had notice you had been hiding a particular piece that you always seemed to work on around him. and he knew you probably wouldn't show him unless he asked you directly so he waoted until you seemed to no longer carry it around. but you seemed different about this one.

when he asked to see it you seemed more hesitant about showing him and more embarrassed about it. eventually he convinced you to show him and he immediately recognised what it was. it was the best piece he'd ever seen and it was of him and it was done by his lover! now he may be no fontaine girl but you sure made him compare.

he couldn't be more proud of you for creating such a stunning image and immediately asked to keep it which sent you into a state of embarrassment. but now everytime you visited his residence you would see it, hanging proudly in pristine condition.

now he wasn't self centred or such but he was just so impressed by it that he simply couldn't resist displaying it and proudly telling it's origin should someone ask.

cyno ★↷

cyno wasn't quite the artist. he had tried a few times and had quite a bit of natural talent but he never really honed or practiced much. the most he would ever do so was when he was so bored that it was the only option, but that was a rare case.

so upon hearing your name in the sumeru art scene and then seeing your pieces was so impressive to him. he could see why people compared you to the quality of art that was normally produced in fontaine.

he noticed immediately that you weren't one for attention so when he first met you he didn't want to seem overbearing or practically scare you away. but he was absolutely enamoured that such an artist eventually chose to be with him.

he always took time when he returned from various deals to have a look at your newest pieces, even if they weren't finished. and while you were still shy about showing your art, you had accustomed to cyno's attention.

you wanted to try something and with cyno gobe for long periods of time, it made ot easy for him not to see it prematurely. and you thought that the puece would feel the same as all others but when cyno actually asked to see it you froze.

shyness washed over you and you came up with random reasons why he shouldn't. but eventually he would convince you that he would love it no matter what. and so you practically couldn't even look at him as he picked it up.

and you didn't look at him, face to red, and your embarrassment grew as silence filled the air but then you felt a pair of arms around you. cyno absolutely adored it, he was so flattered you chose to dedicate a piece to him. he released you and immediately started praising it.

you'd never felt so embarrassed but it was from the sheer overwhelment of compliments cyno showed you, even if a few of them included a couple of puns. and if you were okay with it, he'd love to be another inspiration for your pieces.

[breadsticksposts]

yandere scaramouche!

rapunzel references reader!! {when will my life begin}

-you woke up at 7 am the bed beside you empty, well scaramouche usually left you alone in the morning. so this is normal

-you go to the bedroom and clean yourself. after that you go to the dinning room to eat your breakfast that the maids prepare for you, many people says yyou are living your best life, but how can it be the best if you are lock in a big villa?? well yes itts pretty and anything you could ever imagine. BUT you also want your freedom!! what is fun about being lonely?? you have no one to talk too and barely anything to do! well, that is until you kinda do chores around!

-firsr scaramouche doesnt understand you, why would you want to do chores when you can just sit ot read a book?? i mean you do get too watchh TV but you can watch it if you have his permission, and how can you ask him when he is mostly not with you every time??

-so scaramouche let you do what ever you wat, yyou kinda just clean the room that you like! like the painting room,library, kitchen, sewing place,music room.

-after you eat your breakfast, you take a broom and went to the music room, because that is the pllace that really need a tidy up! you brush and bruch the floor, mop it and put the instrument in their own place!

-next you do your laundry, well you inda just seperatted the clothes and gie it to the maids to do the rest, but that must count for something right??

-after all of that you look at the time and its omly been 7:30, you do it all in 30 minute!? you decide to sweep the rooms that you like, you went to the library and clean it, but mostly you dont see anything to clean, mayybe just the floor but the books is in their place. you are kinda great full too

-the library is not that big so you usually dont gett tired up from just sweeping the floor, well..maybe just a little bit!

-you then try to pick a book to read and waste your time on, but you cant get any book that you like! most of the book that you like, its finished! gods why dont scaramouche put the kind of books that you like?? maybe you can aste your time reading new books! at the end of the day you read the same books over again.

-its 10:30 now, well that sure waste much time! i guess?? well you get bored of reading, you know all the plots already so its came to be a bit boring, but there some parts you like or still miss! after all of that you were thinking that its a great time to start paiting! you love love LOVE painting! i mean you could draw anything that you like, that is practiclly freedom fr you!

- you went to the painting room or you can say art room, that room is only ffills with your paintings in the walls and canvas! all match your aesthetics. you take your brus and start painting on the wall, you sit on a ladder and paints some details that. you miss on the previous drawings, or just add some more drawings!

-you waste your time mostly in the art room, coloring every inch. you were thinking to ask scaramouche to buy you more canvas for you to paint, well you just need the right moment, really.

-you lose to track of time until someone knock at the door. “my lady, please come ouut, its already lunch time. the lord will not be very pleased if he knows you forget or didnt eat.”

-you sigh and clean up the mess you create and came out of the room. you went to the dining room again and you have been prepared some foods, mosty its cold but you dont really care.

-you always wonder why scaramouche have a long didng table,its mostly just you and him so why there is many sits, who is. that for?? but you always think tht maybe sometimes there will be some important people joining dinner. who knows??

-after you eat the foods that you were given, you went to your room, where many things are in the tto keep you distracted! like sewings/knits,and puzzles

you do your puzzles, which is the one you been wanting and been begging for scaramouche to buy it for you. you put it up and it only took 15 minutes. boringgg!

you try to knits but you cant get how to do it! like how can people do this thing?? its so hard!!

-ell finally after many tries you kind of give up and went to the kitchen to bake!

-you try to bake some cookies but you kinda dont get the hang ofbaking yet so you mess up many times and ending up the cheff bake it for you. its so delicious, its warm and h=when you put it with cold milk its just make the. perfect combos!

-then you feels like you need a GOOD stretch from all of those activity. you went to your room and stretch, you try to hold your own feet but you cant and you just end up being tired.

-but if you were thinking, why dot i just escape from here?? you tried. really! but every inch of this villa is filled with maids and body guards, and you always feels like the is eyes on you every inch of your body. the last time you tired to escape, you kinda end up being punished by scaramouche and we do not want to think about it again!most of the time you do just end up being cought or fail and you will face his wrath later..

-you end up laying in the couch, resting. its so boring in here, how come they say i should be greatfull living like this??

-you take your book and reread it again, you miss when your life is just about friends, family, and freedom. until this happen, now you can only read a book about fantasies. there is not many amount of book about fantasies in the library, most about education, funfacts or straight up history. you always falls asleep reading tthose books! you were thinking for your birthday gifts, you could ask for books??? WHAT! no way1!! you could ask for “anything” but you ask for some books!? ugh..

-how about..the outside?? i mean its been so long that you didnt see tthe outside! youu always wondering what is it feels like again?? windy? refreshing? hot? you can only imagine it.., the closes thing you got is the garden! you can only see the skies..,every corner have a tall smooth walls that was imossible to climb on.

-okey thats enough!! just focus on the book you are reading and dont think about thos impossible things. scaramouche? letting you out?? you must be dreaming!

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

‘

“this woman..keep reading tthe same book over and over again?? ugh..there is so many book i bought for her and she keep reading those books?? what is she thinking!? i. didnt waste all that money for nothing!” scaramouche groan while looking at the cameras he set up in every corner of the rooms.

“my lord, if i read the titles of the book, i would think its an fanfiction book, or full of imaginative things.., i do recommend buying her more like those books, rather than historical books” the head maid says, giving scaramouche some advice.

“gods.. what girl want so much!-“ scaramouche complains

“my lord, this girl have been goods for a few days..i think you could give her something for her being obidient? from the reports of the workers, she been helping around the villa, and didnt do any escape attemts” the head maid told scaramouche about the past few days ago.

“i see, i will take a look. now leave.”. scaramouche order the head maidas the. take a look of you laying on the couch reading those books again.

im so sorry if there any typos! and i hope you enjoy it!

[snowfolly]

So I got to the Daylight Inn in BG3 today and I had Astarion in my squad, and as we were hanging out and chatting up Isobel after rescuing her from Marcus, I started hearing a male character singing really softly. I switch characters around to see if I can find them and BOOM I find out ot's Astarion singing softly to himself while idle. I couldn't quite make the lyrics out but he sounded a bit distant and sad...made me want to hug him again.

OH NO… little guy, that’s so cute ;A; I absolutely love this and really, really hope this triggers for me in (one of) my current pts!

I have heard audio of him humming before (and it was so flat- which is super endearing to me lol), BUT this ask made me have some big hcs and I had to write and draw some boys about it lol

-

I imagine that Astarion really, truly loves to sing, that he gets catchy tavern songs stuck in his head for days and goes about his business singing to himself. However, the other spawn would continuously tell him to never to do so in their presence because he can't hold a tune, what kind of elf can’t sing? And what in the names of all the gods did he have to sing about anyway? Besides the song of agony that Cazador made him sing…

By the time he ends up a tadfool in our favorite merry band of misfits he’s learned well not to dare let his discordant voice slip in front of other people. He has to be charming, he has to be pleasant so that they keep him around. And his song is not a pleasant one.

He can’t help himself though, he still hums and sings quietly as he strolls through the woods, when he’s reading or sewing, in times when he thinks he’s entirely by himself. But Tav, godsdamnit, Tav takes notice. 

Tav startles him one night, telling him that they recognize the tune that he’s humming and that it’s one of their favorites. Astarion’s pissed that they were listening in on him, but he’s more surprised that he isn’t shot down immediately, that he’s not met with expected snark for not being able to carry a tune in a bucket, but Tav doesn’t belittle him… which is odd.

In time Astarion still keeps his songs to himself around the rest of the party, but as he begins to trust Tav he finds himself becoming more and more relaxed with them. He realizes that he can be himself around them, well, whatever parts of himself still left to him at this point anyway.

But it was a novel concept, this acceptance, a concept he learned to greatly appreciate. And Tav seems pleased to see (and hear) him being comfortable with them, being happy. Tav cares for him.

Tav cares for him after no one had given a rats ass about him for two centuries. What a concept indeed.

So Astarion continues humming flatly and singing badly,  Tav joins him often and they belt out old folk songs or bawdy tavern numbers together on their long journey, making up colorful (and hilariously crass) new verses as they go. 

And he comes to realize that this, this time with Tav is what being close to a person is supposed to feel like.

That being put down and belittled for something that a person enjoys is not universal. 

That constantly being on guard is not normal.

That another person can actually bring him joy, and that caring for someone is... possible.

Tav says that they enjoy singing with him, that they could go on singing with him forever, that they love his song.

And would it be so bad to sing of love instead of sorrow? Would it be so bad to share his song with them for as long as time would allow? He wasn’t quite sure yet, it was all so new.

But as he walks with Tav, arm in arm, belting out a bawdy old ballad to the heavens and all unfortunate ears within a mile, he had to admit that the thought of forever was enticing.

-

Thank you so much for the ask! And sorry it took 5ever bc it inspired me to make a little Drabble and doodle :>

[maccreadysbaby]

A Hundred Ways to Become a Wayne

batfamily + oc insert

tw: none

wanna read more? here’s the table of contents!

want to read the first fic in the hundred days series so you understand what’s going on here? here it is!

this chapters kinda short but I wanted the ANGST to have its own moment lmao, loved leaning into damian’s insecurity for this one

also thank you dami for refueling bentley’s incredibly irrational and borderline stupid idea making tendencies

part nine

❝ PITY ❞

THURSDAY — AUGUST 6 — 5:11PM

BENTLEY DIDN’T SLEEP AGAIN AFTER HIS NIGHTMARE, AND NEITHER DID BRUCE. Instead, they went back to the cave after a while and sat with Dick. All of Alfred’s swabs and tests came back clear, which meant he hadn’t been injected with, inhaled, or even misted with any kind of toxic chemical that could do this to him. (Bruce had told Bentley about fear toxin, an inhalable chemical one of their past villains used that made a person live through their worst fears in their head.) A quick comparison of current Dick’s vital charts and past-Dick-on-fear-toxin’s charts looked freakishly similar, despite one major change: he didn’t have any fear toxin in him.

Which meant, if it wasn’t chemical, he was being attacked psychologically. Somehow.

All signs pointed to it being the Secret Keeper, but she hadn’t done anything to anyone besides plaguing them in bad dreams, much less knocking them out without touching them and wreaking havoc on their brains for six hours. (Which was how long Dick had thrashed and cried and whined for in his unconscious state.) On hour seven, he went limp and still, which probably meant he’d tired himself out. 

Bentley didn’t go to school on Wednesday or Thursday, and he didn’t sleep Wednesday night, either. Bruce didn’t seem to mind (he actually seemed a little relieved) and Bentley didn’t want to risk seeing the Secret Keeper out and about. His teachers posted his classwork online, anyhow, so he wouldn’t miss any schoolwork. He spent the better of the two days switching between using Tim’s old computer to do his schoolwork, playing red light green light around the Manor to avoid Damian, drifting down to the cave to check on Dick, and attempting to take power naps that never lasted that long. 

Not to mention being texted… like a lot. Ot started when Nico texted early Wednesday morning to ask if he was okay, and why he wasn’t at school. Bentley simply told him he had been sick the night before. (Technically not a lie.) Then Nico took it upon himself to text Bentley all about their environmental science class, even including pictures of their worksheets, and had also taken it upon himself to ask how Bentley was feeling just about every hour. (He always just said better than last night.) Then, Bentley got a text from a random number at lunchtime on Wednesday about how Damian was, quote-on-quote, so creepy. And only ten minutes later and lots of confusion from Bentley did that number come back and say, oh yeah, it’s asten, got your number from nico. heard you were sick. sucks dude.

While Asten wasn’t as incessant about asking how Bentley was doing as Nico was, he did tell him about Spanish class and rant about Ms. Venetstantos making him speak Portuguese every day. And he decided Bentley was a good outlet for all things conspiracy and detective-y, because he kept sending him random articles about metahumans and missing people and Secret Keeper sightings and typing long, drawn out theories about what was going on that ranged from plausible to outright impossible. (Bentley only pretended he read the ones about the Secret Keeper.)

He didn’t remember until those texts that he and Asten had both put detective as their dream job on their get to know me sheets. (Nico had pointed it out on the second day of school when the teacher put those up in the hallway.) He was obviously getting started early. The amount of recon and web-surfing and conclusion drawing he did reminded Bentley of Tim.

Speaking of, Tim and Jason and Steph and Cass had all shown up at the Manor Wednesday and Thursday. Which was strange, considering they’d all been avoiding Damian like the plague. But he didn’t mind — he liked having everybody home.

Bentley started to get really worried about Dick when, on Thursday at five in the evening, (42 hours after Dick had collapsed on Patrol.) he was still laying in that same bed, not thrashing like before, but tossing and turning, still visibly distressed.

He’d been long since changed out of his Nightwing uniform and into some loose sweats, and was connected to drips and other things to keep him hydrated and nourished in his unconscious state. Bentley had finished another color-the-map geography paper about an hour ago and made his way back to the rolling chair stationed next to Dick’s bed.

He had no earthly idea what was wrong with him, but he wished it would all stop. It'd been hard enough seeing Dick during a nightmare he could wake up from — but now, when he was trapped in his own head and no amount of yelling or shaking could snap him out of it, it was practically a form of secondary torture for the entire family. Tim had retired to the Batcomputer, trying so hard to find some kind of solution, or at least a case of something similar, and Bentley didn’t think he’d been upstairs since Dick collapsed.

As of now, five in the evening on Thursday, he, Bentley and Dick were the only three in the cave. Alfred popped in and out often, and Bruce a little less often. 

Bentley was sitting next to Dick’s bed, telling him about all the texts he’d been receiving. (Alfred said talking to him would help, so Bentley was trying his best.) He’d taken to telling him about Asten’s conspiracy theories and the new group chat he’d been added to not three minutes ago, with Nico and Asten, in which they were arguing about the possibility of said conspiracies and asking for Bentley’s input. (Asten’s conspiracy about aliens swapping a human’s brain for an alien brain via something he called ‘materialization tech’ and endowing them with the power of the stars being the origin of metahumans was the one on the table now. It was already segwaying into metahuman world domination.)

But eventually, even with the group chat blowing up his phone with the probabilities of metahumans turning the country into a dictatorship, he fell quiet and just took to holding Dick’s hand. He didn’t scream when he grabbed it, at least. But it didn’t seem to make anything better, either. 

He was just debating on whether or not he should try to wake him up again when a voice sounded from the doorway of the medbay:

“Hey, Bentley,”

He glanced over, brown eyes locking onto Tim’s icy blue ones. He looked exhausted. Bentley knew he’d been working hard on the missing person and metahuman cases before this happened to Dick. But now? Bentley wasn’t sure if self-preservation was even on his radar anymore. He hadn’t seen him ingest anything other than coffee in a solid two days (given he very well could have when Bentley wasn’t around.) and he was pretty sure sleep wasn’t even a thing he thought about anymore. Though he looked like he needed it.

“Hey,” Bentley replied quietly, slipping his hand out of Dick’s and pulling it back to his lap. 

“Doing okay?” Was Tim’s next question, and he moved forward just enough to rest a hand on the top of Bentley’s head. 

He shrugged. “Have you found anything to help Dick?”

The weakly plastered-on content expression fell off of Tim’s face. “No. I haven’t been able to find anything.”

Bentley said nothing, but looked back at Dick, who was moving his head back and forth with soft whines.

“Is he going to die?”

It was a heavy question, yeah, but a question that had undoubtedly been floating around in all of their minds since his unfortunate patrol. With all the metahuman stuff out of the way, Dick would technically be classified as in a coma. And lots of people who went into comas didn’t come out of them.

Bentley heard Tim let out a puff of air. 

“I don’t know,” He said, hardly a whisper, letting his hand move down Bentley’s head and rest on the back of his neck. “He’s stable, even if it looks like he’s in pain. It’s not ideal, but it’s… better than anything getting worse, I guess.”

Bentley nodded slightly, and hoped that Dick would get better soon.

He heard someone walk across the room on the other side of the cave, and both he and Tim glanced over just in time to see Damian disappear back up the stairs to the Manor. When had he come down there? He wasn’t down there five minutes ago.

“Maybe you should talk to him,” Tim suggested after a quiet moment. “He might actually open up to you.”

Bentley glanced over at him skeptically. “Damian? No he won’t.”

Tim snickered. “That kid would never in a million years cuddle up next to anybody sick like he did you. And he definitely wouldn’t get up in a hospital bed with any of us except, maybe Dick.”

Bentley said nothing. He did kind of miss Damian. Like, the old, not-angry Damian, that took him around the Manor to do things and actually talked to him. 

Bentley shrugged. “I’m afraid he’s gonna stab me.”

“Aren’t we all?” Tim snickered. “Seriously, though, he cares about you. He wouldn’t do anything to hurt you.”

“I know, but…” Bentley trailed off, glancing down at his hands.

“There’s still a chance,” Tim finished his thought. “Yeah, I know.”

Bentley said nothing.

“It might be good for you to go upstairs for a while,” He continued, and Bentley glanced back up at Dick, who was still shifting uncomfortably in the bed. “I’ll sit with him.”

Bentley nodded. He wasn’t really in the mood to argue, and he needed to finish his schoolwork anyway.

He pushed himself out of the chair and bid goodbye to Tim, heading back up to the Manor. He took to reading the group chat messages he’d missed on the way through the house and up the stairs. Nico was currently trying to explain to Asten that aliens couldn’t use technology he’d made up, and he was arguing that they could because they could read everyone’s minds. 

Bentley had nearly made it into his room when he bumped right into someone.

“Sorry-“ He muttered, glancing up from his screen to meet Damian’s ice cold blue-green eyes. The assassin’s glare alone shut Bentley up.

Damian walked past him with nothing more than a faint scowl, heading for the stairs.

He wasn’t planning on talking to him, but it was a better opportunity than seeking the angry assassin out.

“… hey, Damian?”

Bentley turned on his heel, and Damian did, too, shooting him another dagger-like-glance.

Bentley wanted to recoil and say nevermind, but that wouldn’t be very helpful. “What’s wrong?” He asked instead, really focusing on the fact that Tim said Damian wouldn’t hurt him.

“You should know well enough, Whittaker,”

Bentley nearly flinched when Damian used his last name instead of Bentley like he always did. Why in the world would he know what was going on when Damian wouldn’t tell anyone?

“I don’t…” Bentley blinked, searching Damian’s face and then looking at the floor when the unpleasant expression got too reminiscent of his father’s. He knew what that expression meant. And coming from Damian, it made him want to cry. 

A moment of silence passed, and when it was clear Damian didn’t intend on speaking, Bentley muttered in a tiny voice: “You’re mad at me?”

Silence.

Bentley thought and thought and thought about all the interactions he’d had with Damian before he started getting upset, but he couldn’t for the life of him remember doing anything wrong. He’d asked Damian to teach him about throwing knives, but he’d told him yes. (He hadn’t done it yet. Was it maybe Bentley’s fault for never asking again?) He didn’t think that was enough to make Damian so upset for so long.

Bentley wished he could bring his knees up, but he was standing, so he wrapped his arms around himself instead. He hoped Damian couldn’t see the slight wetness brimming in his eyes at the very prospect he’d done something so bad the assassin didn’t even want to talk to him anymore and he didn’t know what it was. 

He looked at the floor in a vague attempt to hide it. “What did I do?”

“Exactly what you’re doing right now,” Damian replied bitterly, in a tone that literally made Bentley want to start crying. “You weaseled your way into this family with nothing more than pity. All you have to do is shed a few tears and you have the whole household at your feet — the only reason you’re here is because my father and brothers feel bad for you. Because you’re exactly what your father trained you to be. A manipulator.”

Bentley did flinch, that time, like he was dodging knives made of words. It wouldn’t be any use — Damian never missed.

“Your relationships are built on pity, your place in this family is built on pity. Even Drake has contributed more than you, and I’m not shy about discussing his obvious inferiority,” Damian spat. “I am a Wayne by blood and I have to work to be part of this. If I had even considered doing anything like you did with your father, considered betraying this family like you did, they would…”

Damian trailed off.

“You don’t deserve to be here. It’s pity that’s keeping you in this house, pity that’s holding your relationships together, and once that pity is gone, what’s going to be left? Nothing. Because pity is all you are. Pity is what you’re built for, and once it’s gone, you’re going to be left with nothing, useless, just like your father created you to be.”

Bentley watched through blurry eyes as Damian turned and continued down the stairs like he hadn’t just dispatched a carefully-sharpened killshot right through Bentley’s chest.

Damian didn’t want him there.

Thank goodness he was right next to his bedroom, because he hardly had time to get inside and close the door before he started crying.

Everything Damian said was right — he was in this family out of pity. If it weren’t for pity, none of this would’ve happened.

And Damian didn’t want him there. This was his worst nightmare. Tim was wrong, Damian had hurt him.

He walked over to his bed in the dark — the lights were off but the sun was still somewhat out — and curled up in a tiny ball in it, covered his head with the blankets, and cried.

Dick had been taken in when he had nothing, and became Robin to help Bruce fight crime. Jason got taken in off the streets and became Robin. Tim got taken out of a neglectful household and became Robin. Damian got shipped here from overseas to be Robin. Cass, Duke, Steph, Barbara, they were all superheroes, crime fighters, vigilantes. 

What the hell did Bentley have to do to make himself deserve being a Wayne?

Become a superhero?

—

dedicated to @sassenashsworld 💚

—

tag list! (If you want me to remove or add you, ask in comments!)

@fleur-alise @sarcopterygiian @cademygod

[cloverofhope]

I’m asking, tell us abt ur au pls

Ohohohoh gladly

putting a keep reading thing here bc this is gonna be a longish post lol

Quick backstory

Okay, so a little backstory of the au itself. It was originally a roleplay plot that I made to cheer a friend up bc he was upset about something in another roleplay chat, but the plot then was very different to what it is now. Haive didn't exist at the time, nor did most of the characters that are going to be from Haive (aka Berks equivalent.) It was originally called "The Flipped Universe" or at least that was the second version of the plot was. I genuinely cannot remember what the original version was called anymore.

An argument happend and the second version was effectively dropped before we went onto the third version which was effectively the same plot except we switched who played hiccup and boy oh boy are they a good runaway!hiccup player. Most of the times we started the roleplay it, it took place after httyd2 so I'm writing what would've happened from httyd on.

Characters that are important right noW

Clover- she's the main character in this story. She's effectively the Hiccup of Haive. She's a little bit shorter than Hiccup and doesn't grow much past her height in this part of the story. Clover has red hair that goes to about her upper back when she lets it down, and emerald green eyes that could pierce into your soul if she's pissed off. She's pretty artistic, spending any free time she can find drawing something if she's not already focused on something else. She's got a heart of gold and stubbornness to go with it. She's fairly inventive, and she has a lot of spontaneous ideas that do work a fair amount of time

Iris- She's the light fury in the cove. She lost her right tailfin. She's mostly white with spots along her back and head that are grayish purple, but they look more gray than purple. Her ears have pastel blue spots along the top. She doesn't trust easily but once you've earned her trust, there's almost nothing she won't do. She's not the most playful or chatty at first but after she meets Clover and some of the other dragons she really opens up her shell

Rollo- She's the dragon rider that Clover convinced to help. After being raised by dragons, she DOES understand Dragonese and will eventually teach most of the others in the group, one of them being too stubborn to learn. She's the most ruthless of the group in this and sometimes has to be physically held back so she doesn't hurt someone who doesn't need to be hurt. Rollo doesn't understand some traditions at first, and Clover isn't the best at explaining why things are done the way that they are. She's got black hair that's been dyed with flowers that primarily grow on Haive and on islands near it, especially at the nest Rollo grew up on. She's a little bit taller than Clover

Rou- He's the most playful and silly woolly howl anyone could meet. He loves to sing songs for those he loves and is fiercely protective of his family. He's got blue scales and his 'fluff' is a milk chocolately brown. (I'm pretty sure- Its been so long since I've seen his ref sheet lol). Him and Rollo are effectively siblings after being raised together.

Wilder- Clover's younger brother. He's about five years younger. He's a clever little guy who wants to be just like his sister when he grows up. (Or at least he will eventually lol). He's got red hair and freckles galore. He cares a lot, sometimes too much.

mm i think thats all the characters imma do for now- at least in this post- I don't need it being 5000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000 characters long lol

The 'What Ifs' that this AU is based off of that don't really spoil anything

What if Toothless was a light fury instead?

What if Dragonese existed in the movie universe?

What if Hiccup and Toothless ran away before Astrid ever found out?

What if httyd was more gay?

What if hiccup had help while training toothless?

As I'm thinking- I'm realizing that most of the other 'what ifs' spoil a lot- so that's all ya get for now

Headcanons! These won't spoil much- right?

Furies bond with other species by mimicking behaviors

Light furies are great swimmers

Dragons have a whole ass culture, some things can vary from nest to nest, but most things are pretty similar

not exactly sure how to explain this one, but an alpha's command isn't like spoken words- its more a sense only a dragon can feel, and isn't something humans can possibly learn

fury eggs don't explode- nor do woolly howl eggs-

hmmm not sure what else i can add that doesn't spoil a whole lot- so enjoy this!

[moonlight-tmd]

So i had few posts before this one- 

In connection to this post- Bumblebee was one of the bots raised in carequarters.

Even tho the facility had good reviews, it was horrible for him. 

Nobody wanted to adopt him, since he was “not suited for a family”. The main caretaker/manager described it as ‘him being messy and problematic along with “having several behavioural issues”[i mentioned one of them in this post]’. 

Being the oldest in the facility, younger bots picked on him and he got in trouble whenever he fought back. 

He spent most of his time alone in a supply room as “detention”. It was really his safe spot. He’d sing tunes, play, even draw on the walls and talk to the drawings like they were his friends- heck, even parents. 

He ran away before he could be registered out of the adoption registry, the rest of his sparklinghood he spent on the streets before joining the autobot camp.

The fact he was raised in an orphanage is one of the reasons why he doesn’t wanna celebrate his creationday. All of the bots he met back then wanted him gone. He thinks it was a mistake. 

He has nightmares about that place and the autobot camp sometimes- but now that he’s with the bots that actually care about him, it rarely happens. I once had an idea of the pre-earth autobot team going ot the same carequarters to do a job long after Bee ran away and him being scared as heck cuz the main caretaker- who is a completely different bot from who he remembered, kept trying to talk to him specifically. So there is somewhat of a chase after him. It turned out he was still in the adoption registry cuz the previous manager didn’t bother to update the files.

Bossbot decides to go search the old and abandoned wing of the facility and finds Bee curled up in his safe spot. He notices the children’s drawings of different scenes- there’s always a small yellow bot in them, and slowly understands. He tries to talk to Bee and Bee explains how horrible it was here. 

“Why did no one come for me?” Optimus held the bot until he stopped crying, he explained what the bot from the facility wanted and they went back to the group. While Bee was doing something with the other bots, Optimus asks the caretaker about the registry and option to adopt Bee; technically speaking it was possible since he was still in the adoption registry.

Once Bee is done, Bossbot asks him to come speak privately with him. He slowly brings up the topic and offers the adoption form. Bee had a lot of crying after that- the good kinda crying. At last, someone showed up to adopt him.

They signed the form gave it to the manager who wished them both luck on the new path in life. The news were announced to the rest of the team- they were surprised for sure but they were happy for them.

It took them a while to get used to the new situation but both of them were happy in the end.

[alaydabug2]

@sparklenarniawizard

Broken heart/Broken mind

Chapter eleven

(Human AU)

Sophie and Keefe met in the children's hospital when they were little. Because of how long they were confined to the four walls of the hospital, they became very close during their stay.

As the years pass, they wind up being in the same classroom together due to their physical conditions. This makes their bond deepen.

But are they able to handle when life gets tough, throwing problems and complications their way?

This originally had a song with it

So use your imagination or play ot on your own 😅

The song is "Stand By You"

(Don't play song until said for best effect.)

Grady dropped Sophie off at the roller rink. She said goodbye and hurried inside. Tam and Linh were already waiting inside. She ran over to them.

"Hey!" Linh said. She tried to meet her half way, but lost control of her skates. Tam rolled over to her and grabbed her shoulders to stop her from spinning out across the floor.

Sophie walked over to her instead. "Ready?"

"Yup!"

"Alright, lemme go get my some skates."

Sophie went to the desk and got the skates. She strapped them on. She made her way onto the hardwood and tested her balance. Once she was good, she rolled to Tam and Linh.

They waited near the entrance for a few minutes while they waited for the others. Keefe came through the door next, Dex right behind him. They got their skates and went onto the floor.

Finally, Biana arrived with her brother trailing behind her. She quickly got situated and ran to join her friends.

"What's he doing here," Tam pointed at Fitz.

"Babysitting," Biana said with an eye roll.

"Hey, I'm not happy about third wheeling you and your friends either," Fitz said as he pulled out his phone. "I tried to see if Alvar would do it, but he's going on a date tonight." He propped his feet up on the armrest of the bench.

"Never mind," Biana muttered. "Let's just skate already!"

Sophie and her friends rolled around the rink. They rotated playing tag, dancing to the music, and trying to knock each other of their feet.

When some slower dances started to come on, they took it as their cue to take a break and get some water as couples invaded the floor.

(Play song.)

After a few songs, Keefe squeezed her hand. He motioned to the rink as Stand By You turned on. She took his hand, and he led her to skate around the edge of the rink together.

They rolled around in silence for a moment until Keefe said, "I know your birthday isn't until next week, but I wanted to give you your present now while we're here."

Sophie's eyebrows raised. He... almost looked flustered. She couldn’t tell for sure because of the dark room, but she could almost see a pink tint to his cheeks. It made one spread across hers, too.

He held out a little box. She took it from him, and gasped when she opened it. Inside was a charm bracelet. It only contained one charm. A small black swan. Alongside it was a tiny drawing of a black swan. On the back, it read in his hand writing:

"I hope you have a very happy birthday, Sophie. I know you've always liked how graceful swans are and how elusive the black ones are, so I figured you'd like this bracelet I saw when I was out shopping with my mom. I hope you like it."

"Oh wow," she breathed. She looked into his eyes. "I love it!"

He almost seemed to slump with relief as a tentative smile etched his lips. He helped her put it on. She tackled him with a hug and nearly sent them tumbling down from the skates.

Keefe was able to steady them. He chuckled a little bit, but wrapped his arms around her. "Thank you," Sophie murmured. "I really appreciate it."

"Of course." He held her a little tighter.

It was pretty much the same as any other time he hugged her. But somehow... this felt different for some reason.

Was it the way his grip was ever so slightly tightened? The way he almost seemed to be swaying her to the music? How her face was buried in his shoulder?

Whatever it was, she had to double-check herself to make sure she wasn't having a seizure with the way her heart seemed to do that same weird flip. That was surely a new development. Although she wasn't sure what it was. With the way her head was pressed against Keefe, she could also hear his heart beating fast.

They rolled around the rink again for ten more minutes. Neither of them had pulled their hands away. They didn't break away until they made it back to their friends and went to sit back in their seats.

Dex had suggested food, so they all made their way to the concession counter. Sophie made her way over to the table and sat down. Keefe took a seat beside her. She smiled at him. His pupils dilated and he looked away.

After eating, they spent the rest of the night horsing around. The dance music came back on, and they chased each other around.

Sophie stayed outside the rink after nearly everyone else left. Keefe still wasn't picked up yet. Thankfully, Sophie and her parents knew the drill at that point.

They waited until headlights drove into the parking lot. Ro rolled down her window and told Keefe to get in the car.

Keefe told Sophie goodbye and climbed into the vehicle. She could see through the tinted windows as he collapsed into his seat and started ranting to his sister about something. Except it seemed to be a good rant. When he finished, he had a smile on his face, and Ro patted him on the back.

Sophie got into her own car and her parents drove them home.

[helloescapist]

Hi ! Sorry if this request is a little ehh yk since i aint so good at this but your writing absolutely amazes me so .

would you consider a request kinda suggestion thing thats like . A shinobu x gn reader that where friends (mostly around their training for the final selection) but just after that they just dissapeared completely , but like after 4 years they accidentaly reunite when the reader is sent to the butterfly state for medical attention . kinda hurt comfort yk ? If you dont like it feel free to ignore it !

hello, hello!

Can we talk about how cute moments in the training years with Shinobu would be? When she wasn't tied to the duties of the Insect Hashira, and just allouwed to be fiesty? She would be a total terror on the Butterfly Estate!

Anyways, thank you for your sweet words. <3 I did my best with this one, and I hope it meets your expectations. (I admittedly, may play with fluff prompts of all of the hashiras in their training days because.. it just sounds adorable). I'm sorry it took so long to respond, I wanted ot be sure my research for the weapon and techniques would be useful and insync with one another.

What Remains | Shinobu Kocho

Word Count: 2508?

Setting: Shinobu Kocho x gn!reader [friend fic, but if you squint underlining pining]

Content Warning(s): gore/blood, mentions of death, and depression, minor spoilers if you are not familiar with Shinobus past

Summary: caught in a battle with a worhty advisory and the tilt of fate no longer in your favor, you reflect upon the friend you have left behind in your youth and fears. Regrets that threaten to follow you to the grave. You would do anything to piece back together what remains of the friendship you fled so many hears ago.

A/N: the reader’s staff is inspired by a silambam staff originating from Southern India. I highly recommend looking up the history if you have the time. The inspiration for the original breathing is from the, if you can believe it, mother of pearl (Nacre), the inner lining of shells used by some species of molluscs.

Blood spattered the side of your brow, dripped down the lining of your draw. The tinge of metallic searing your nose, blinding your senses. It had been years since someone had successfully penetrated your barrier.

The weight of your faithful staff balanced between your dominate arm, curled around your forearm and the end pressed against your back. Knees bent beneath you as the force of air shattered your lungs.  Heaved in the sharp breath of oxygen, struggled against cracked ribs, the burden of your weapon beginning to wear upon your body over the extended period of use. The battle had waged far longer than you had anticipated, nor had you expected your opponent to be such a troublesome demon. It had been years since you questioned the reliability of your weapon, and felt the strain upon your muscles. Ligaments strained under the weight. Trembled your grasp, revealing the exhaustion tumbled over your form. When was the last time you doubted your abilities in combat? Pondered the resolve of your might in battle. Your breathing technique had become renowned for its capabilities. Had received praise for being a fortress, impenetrable. Though you certainly knew the limitations of its uses—this had not been the first time you had found an enemy in close range despite the protective field of your breathing. The curl of a growl shattered across your back, the metallic swing, the draw of your staff curled around your sides. The tilt of your hips into the sway, catching the draw of claws that threatened to pierce your skin once more. The iridescent of your breathing technique catching the dying stars of night. The wet grass beneath your feet stumbling your normally tight form, the slick beneath your sandals offered little traction. Ah, no, this had not been the first time someone had penetrated your defenses, distant memories of your younger years toyed in your mind as your body ran on instinct.

She had been small, adorably so. Standing significantly shorter than your peers for her age, her weight provided little substance to her bones. As though a butterfly that had been carried upon Himejima-sensei’s shoulders. Regardless of the way she furrowed. Her scowl noticeable despite her older sister’s insistence to cool her temper, her tongue remarkably sharp despite her age. At a glance, one would assume that the smaller girl had been younger than expected. Teased by the other students for her less than remarkable stature, humorous in comparison to the gentle giant who instructed your techniques. Over saw your manners, and guided you through training under the Demon Crops care. Though, you knew better than anyone as having been a longtime student, Himejima-sensei neither cared if any of you went on to be slayers. Rather, the distant burdens of a forgotten past had strengthened his mentor resolve. Insured that the children under his care would not leave his protection until they were capable of fending for themselves, the tears he shed at those who had departed upon new lives, and the comfort for those who remained—yet, for all of his kindness, this little brat spat out words wielded by drunken adults. The vein upon her brow throbbing as she spat out curse after curse, Shinobu’s temper triggered by the littles of infringements. This time having resulted from another student commenting on her stature, a noted sore spot evident in how she had pursued the source. Slammed him to the ground, crawled on top of him, and flinging her fists in all the might she could muster, only swayed from her assault by her older sister’s obvious disappointment and soothing words. You had begun to wonder if the younger Kocho had a sense of restraint, often pondered how it was two beings so unlike one another could in fact be blood relatives.

                That day had been the final straw for you. Drawn from the disrespect the younger Kocho had once again inflicted upon your instructor, you had challenged her to a match. Her over confidence having met you head on, so sure of herself despite the fact that a rationed bag of rice in the store house weighed more than she had—you knew this, had born witness to Shinobu’s attempts to heave it into the storage before being crushed beneath its weight. Yet, despite the fact that she was nearly a foot shorter than yourself, and severely under her weight class, the dagger wielder had met you head on. Resilient despite the ways you popped her repeatedly. Speed, in practice you had noticed how fast the younger girl had been on her feet. Honestly, it was likely the only reason she had ever gotten the jump on any of the other students, but not this time. The practice stick pressed between your hands, swirled in each movement, any attempts to out maneuver you quickly thwarted with a pop of bamboo upon her cranium. The loss of the match staining her pride, and driving her forward. Training had become a pass time less spent crucifying her peers, but truly immersed in instruction. Her temper only making her slopping and agitated, yet she persisted. Swat after pop, after jab, time after time. Regardless of the way you swept the feet beneath her frame, plopped disgracefully upon her bottom. The sparing matches would wage over weeks. Each encounter drawing your chuckles, for all of her wit and her rage, the younger trainee was playful. Determined, a trait you rarely saw in your peers, and before you had known it, you had welcomed these sparing matches. At times, she would catch you by surprise, and others, you were able predict. Drawing forth snacks to place upon the veranda before meeting her practice blade. The distinct smack of your staff across her cheek resulting in the cool of a pack pressed against flesh. The mumbling of frustration between small pursed lips, and amethyst eyes that glanced at you in her pout, the smile you provided soothing as you offered her a treat.  In time and under instruction, Shinobu would learn to utilize her strengths in battle, and when she had done so, she had become a worthy rival. One quick to seize opportunities, to slip between the cracks your swings. Tumble her small frame against your height, the close encounters drawing the swept of your brow. The triumph of her laugh, upon the smack of your bottom across the ground. The first time she had ever bested you, drawing the joy of hard work, and a ridiculous dance. Her small hips wiggled beneath her hakama. Trembled as she shook her hands together before stretching them to the sky. Proud. She had been so proud, and you found yourself laughing aloud when she offered her hand to your own.

Days of sneaking upon the butterfly estate echoed through your mind. Mischievous kids that evaded duty and medicinal instruction offered by the older Kocho, Shinobu flying over the small ownings, while you lifted yourself through the air with the plant of your staff to the ground. Laughter upon the obvious scolding of kakushi insisting you to return your duties, abandoned to the wind in favor of dango stalls. To hear the Wind Hashira openly scold you, for dodging the Flower Hashira’s care. The whelp upon your heads that had grown in place of his righteous smack, the blush that painted his cheeks when Kanae attempted to sooth his ire. Not that he nor her had ever admitted to such affections, and it never lasted long. The slip of Shinobu’s tongue only eliciting another outburst from the swordsman. Pressed fingers of the older girl keeping him in place, as you dashed down hallways. Weaved past kakushi and slayers alike, snuck castella cakes from the kitchens, and played in the trees of the gardens. Partners in crime joined at the hips through your training years, unafraid to wreak havoc across the Butterfly Estate. The pride Kanae had expressed upon your passing of the final selection. Touched clothes to your cheek, evaluated the strain upon your wounds. Both of your bodies tumbled through thickets of wisteria, rattled against rivals. Pride beaming form your features, equipped to take on the world despite the sting of antiseptic pressed against your cheeks. Prayed for the moment to never end. TO disappear in to the folds of time, to remain upon such happy memories… Her smile. Y-you could remember how Kanae had beamed at you. Accepting, and warm, the night the smile had slipped from her lips. Blood that painted the night air, the chuckle and nauseauty joy of rainbow eyes that elicited humor at your suffering. The loosening of her haori drawn in battle, discarded as a means of escape for you. She knew. Damn it, she had known, the blood drawn, the soothing sound of her voice as though she were comforting a child. Y-you hadn’t been a child! You had a duty! To the Corps, to the Flower Hashira who had requested you for this vary mission. To Shinobu who awaited your arrival at home. Little of your protest mattered. The slam across your head, the fading of the sky before you, and the haori that fluttered over your shoulders before you collapsed to the ground.

                You never got to apologize. How could you? When you had awoken, you had seen the shatter of her tears. The kakushi had founded your body practically discarded in the woods, the haori painted over your shoulders. Unable to fend off the chill of your body. Evidence of the battle, blood marred across the mountain terrain. Shattered over trees, yet, no remains to be found other than your own. Overheard horrors of the night like a ghost upon your flesh. Sickened and nauseated. Pressed between vomit that threatened to spill as your heart plummeted to the grave. The slip of the burdened haori revealing your sins as it sunk to the ground. Your feet eliciting a response before thought. Run. Run. RUN. Tripped over boulders, stumbled over branches, and fallen trees, the distant shouts of kakushi falling upon ears of the dead alone. Heedless of the blood that caught against branches, nor the tarnished of your uniform across your form, revealing peeks of skin as you fled into the day. Fled from your duties. From your home. From your friend.

The staff drawn between practiced hands. Fingers that ached and had become slashed open by opportunistic claws. The growl in your ear, and the fatigue that drew upon your brow. I’m going to die, whispered upon your thoughts. Numb realization as the iridescent gleam that captivated your staff shattered over nails. Colors that faded across the spectrum of a rainbow, glistened in their resolve. Just a little more, you told yourself. The meadow drawn upon little shade, the distant shatter of night in the distance of the east. Colors that shooed away the late hours, and the tremble of large eyes against your opponent, desperate to get away. The shake of your smile as you seized your staff upon their back, entrapping them against your chest. “Fourth Form, Inner Shell,” hissed against your teeth. The revolt of bones, the demon becoming increasingly fringed upon the break of day. Desperate to escape the light, the encompassing of your breath. Draws of color that folded over the two of you. Shattered your bones together in a sickening crunch. Illuminating the last touches of the night sky as blood drew from the force of two bodies forced together as bones snapped. Your fortress utilized as a steel trap. For the both of you.

                Shinobu, I wish… I’m- I’m so sorry.

Voices echoed through the passage of time. Demanded tools, whispered needs of bandages. Imparted details you could not quite grasp, nor completely understand. Details across a series of confusion that blurred your conscious. Ached your headache, and shunned your thoughts.  It, it really didn’t matter anymore. Told yourself it would only be a matter of time before death greeted you, escorted you into the afterlife. No, no perhaps not the afterlife. Unfinished business, your desires to see an old friend once more would likely bind you to the world. Conscious that faded in and out, drifted upon the passing of words. Some soothing and sweet, praising progress though the world seemed dark, and one such voice threatening. Scolding really, dared to reveal any and all obscure details of childhood. Peculiar, and childish. To threaten your youthful fears, regardless of how silly they had been… who would dare? Temper seethed, and… shook your shoulders? Who would treat a corpse in such manner.

Sunlight flittered over the drawings of curtains;  the nauseating smell of antiseptic greeted the flutter of your eyelashes. Your sight hazy as it swept over your environment. Having expected the embrace of death, the warm linens pressed into your surprise. Flowers tucked into cared for vases, bare antique furniture. The numb movements, testing whether or not you had in fact returned to the living, or rather trapped between the state of life and death. The tremble of your toes, testing out their existence. The draw of a white kimono pressed into your chest, the signs of the battle you had endured written across your flesh. Bandages wound tightly over weary muscles. Wrappings drawn across your ribs, snug and difficult to breathe as you attempted to fidget your fingers. Unable to properly navigate their being. Rather, unable to feel them at all. The room… the room far too familiar for your liking, though the thought was difficult to grasp. Distant memories, of laughter, and poorly bound wounds… you had never been adapt at medical care. Glimpses of a past you had left behind wrinkled into your bedding. The press of lavender hair curled upon the white bedding. Touched upon your lap. The telling curl of butterfly ribbon that threatened to shatter your heart caught upon the slightly unraveled curl of dark hair. Released from a bun that had begun to tumble in her sleep. The press of her long eyelashes into the bedding, purple hues that bordered her eyes, the small draw of her breath against your leg. Exhaustion, hours of late work having drawn upon her form. Collapsed at your side, the water basin had grown worm, as the cloth pressed between her strained fist, caught amongst the fingertips of her other hand. Your own hand, having grown numb under her strain. The Insect Hashiras fist trembled beneath her fist as her resolve to cling to your side snagged at the bandages of your fingers. Her pale complexion, illuminating of the moonlight, and the draw of her purple strands the envy of any wisteria branch. The trouble of your smile, tumbled over trembling lips. The met of your brow. To see her once more like this. To have her at your side as though no time had pass. Distant recollections of her poor bedside manners drawing an unsure smile—she had always struggled in that department. The curl of her fingers, calloused and practiced as her resolve. The worry evident in the way she curled into you, refused to release you from her hold. Nor could you bring yourself to part from her grasp.

                Words to spill. Apologies, and confessions. Heart ache, and betrayal, to bridge time lapses, and share had the years had treated you. To apologize—there were so many things you heart longed to express to her.  The soft sigh of slumber, hours of dedication in her collapse. Tears that trembled, ghosts of memories. Her laughter, her smile. Her temper. All of it within reach, and how your heart begged to see all sides of your estranged friend once more. Left with little ability to seize the closeness of yearning, the shiver of your other hand, dared to fumble through her hair. As you had so many years ago, her pride never had allowed her to confess how the Insect Hashira enjoyed having her hair soothed back. Too childish, you had understood, but in quite moments when the hours of study had drawn from your day, and sleep met her upon the veranda, you would comfort her in such ways. Smiled upon the resolve of a woman who was bound by her resolve. The quiver of your eyelashes, and the weight of tears that succumbed to gravity as you fought back the sob in the back of your throat. The curl of her bangs pressed between your fingers, as you tenderly swept her bangs from her brow. Studied the softness of her face, noted how age had captivated some of her features. Whispered prayers of gratitude to the gods who had given you one last chance. The bonds of time wearing upon your heart. You had been given, one more chance, and though you were unsure of how the passage of time, loss, and circumstances had marred your friendship, you could not help but feel relief at the sight of her so close. Within grasp, a friend your heart had desperately longed for all of these years, eternally grateful that she still remained upon this world. The care etched into your bandages, and faded memories offered the opportunity for new life. The opportunity to piece back together what remains of your friendship, or to endure her wrath… Tears that rolled upon your cheeks as you bent down, pressed your forehead to her own. Y-You would plead forgiveness, but for now.. you just..

   I missed you.

[serial-desigation-vee]

@serial-designation-jey

From above, two pods boomed as they ripped the upper stratosphere of Copper-9. Light from the rockets, making the clouds glow hot blue and electrifying the unstable atmosphere. As the pods split the cloud cover in their descent, lightning flickered and cracked, striking one of the pods. The surge in power fried the automatic navigation systems, and the craft hurtled off course towards Camp 98.7. Crashing down, it left a trail of destruction and fire in its wake, setting the forest ablaze and leaving a gouge in the ground that ran for several hundred yards before the craft eventually came to a halt. The pod was unlike anything they had ever seen, complex ivory plating with intricate gold designs weaving throughout, the exposed areas revealing an almost muscular conglomeration of black wires that pulsed blue light towards the center of the craft. Upon the side were several logos, of which one V would recognize as her own parent company logo of JCJenson. The others involved were Faro Automated Solutions Inc, Far Zenith Corp, and Miriam Technologies.... As the two dissasembly drones would draw close, the pod let off a shrill tone and an automated warning. "WARNING! WARNING! WARNING! PROXIMITY SENSORS ACTIVE, SHIP IS STABILIZING, DO NOT APPROACH THE STASIS POD UNTIL INSTRUCTED OR RISK MALFUNCTION. PLEASE ENJOY OUR MESSAGE TO THE VALUED CUSTOMER ABOUT YOUR NEW GALAXTIC PAL WHILE YOU WAIT- Uh, is this thing on? This is testing log number uhhh... I've lost count... of project Gemini modelSD: B1-7A PIN: #LK-101, "Beta" or just B, I dont care... Okay... The pod is cooling down right now, but once it's stable, it should scan the environment and inhabitants around it so it can best modify itself to the environment and fit in, I know it might be odd but it will try to copy someone it sees but dont worry, there is a customization setting in the pod if you wish to change her appearance, not that ot will matter uh... Look, this is our last shot. What with earth gone and everything. I've installed various subfunction protocols into two sister drones. The other should be nearby. This one posseses: Minerva, Hephestus, Apollo, and Hades. The robot will tell you what those do, but uhm... She's designed to learn and adapt just as her sister unit A7-04 is, but specifically, she's much more attuned to it. Her sister unit is designed for combat and initial defense of this ones operations of study, terraforming and revitalizing. Make no mistake, though. B isn't defenseless. She is equipped with a highly advanced natite repair and re assimilation device and can construct weapons on her arms of which she knows two by default, but can learn more. The Specter Gauntlet High Energy plasma multitool cannon and the Specter Reaver blade arm. If there was any error during transport, I'd expect something to function incorrectly, and I can't help you. If the unit is severely damaged, return it to the pod for nanitic revitalization procedures to initiate a full system reboot and restore... I think that's it... good luck."

V watched the pod with a calculating gaze, one of her hands turned into a long blade and held out in front of J. They took in the words spoken to her, and their eyes narrowed. She didn't care what this was, they just didn't want it near J.

She remained at the ready, protective urge pulling at her every wire.

[lugagl]

insert joke about hazbin hotel having a homestuck reference here

ok. starters, ive fallen down the rabbit hole of the other most popular shitstain of a media online aside from homestuck, hazbin hotel. so i fucking pulled up that dumbass pilot from 2019 ok? and i started psychoanalyzing that shit because what else is there to do with free time on a thursday afternoon? right? i fucking guhhhhhhh so i got ot nifty's part again whatever whatever, little pink chick pops out the fireplace starts cleaning shit. she dusts off a clock with the feather duster and im like "haha that clocks purple and yellow in the center, just like doc scratches. just like,, doc scratches.." AND I FUCKING ok first heres the clock

and im like thinking im tripping balls, ok? i fucking google docs just and heroic clock, i pull it up and im like "no.." ITS THE SAME EXACT FUCKING CLOCK.

i mean like down to the fucking detail on the trim. is it a simplified version of his clock? yeah. but dude oh my fuck. homestuck from fucking 2019, the worst part about this (which is probably why this clock is fucking there in the first place) i looked up how long it took the animator to make the pilot, two years. 2019 minus two that sets us at late 2017, which makes it make a hell lot of a load more sense, cause homestuck fucking ended in 2016 a year prior but dude. what the shit. now im looking back at the shitty ass drawing i posted up here of vox as slick and alastor as snowman with horror cause like yeah. fuck all, the chick who made it was a homestuck, of course she was. almost every damn person was online. when i figured this out i promptly ran to my fucking friends and started screaming about it cause theyre all also homestucks and they watched hazbin hotel with me when i pirated it and my boyfriend screamed at me to post it here so yeah. homestuck hazbin hotel shit storm. after that whole thing i was like "pov how they decide wether you get to go to heaven, gotta be heroic or just" and my boyfriend promptly pointed out to me that the one fucking death in the show of the guy going to heaven WAS heroic and now im sat here like what the fuck because this entire fucking AMAZON PRIME SUPPORTED SHOW is just a huge homestuck reference to me now.

[chheees]

AMYY!!

this took so long but im rlly proud of ot tbh! Its been a while since ive even finished a whole drawing😭

[standfucker]

Koby & OC Headcanons for Anon

Characters: Koby, John (OC)

CW: none

For anon- I hope you find this satisfactory ^_^

Garp’s unit is stationed on an island’s Marine outpost for the month. In Koby’s precious little spare time, he sneaks out at night to train. He’s in the woods near the beach for hours, punching trees with all his might, unaware that he’s being watched.

John, meanwhile, is curious about the scrawny kid bloodying his fists under the moonlight, but he doesn’t approach him yet–he has a complicated relationship with the Marines, so he keeps his distance.

A week later, Koby gets separated from his squad in the maze-like town square of the island’s biggest city. Lost, he wanders into a back alley and is met with some huge, menacing ruffians keen to take advantage of a wayward Marine recruit. Koby’s attempt to talk them down swiftly fails, and they surround him, brandishing clubs and knives…

“Hey, Chore Boy,” says a new voice, and everyone’s head turns to see John. “When you throw a punch, try doing it like this.” He dashes forward, plants his foot, and decks the biggest gangster in the face, sending him flying down the entirety of the alley and through the nearest building.

The other gangsters are stunned, but quickly recover and rush the new guy. John draws back so his opponents are forced to converge, then plants his feet again, knees bent slightly, stance solid. He clenches his dominant fist, and bright, blue sparks crackle around his fingers.

”Blue Lightning!” He twists and throws the punch. There’s a flash upon impact, a small shockwave that has his opponents sailing through the air and landing with heavy thuds. All the men are knocked out. Koby just stares at the back of his savior, who takes in a breath before patting himself off and looking over his shoulder. “Did you see my form? Form’s important when you punch.”

-”Yes, I… wow, you were incredible! How did you do that?” Koby asks. John explains that he’s been training for a long time, and he saw how Koby was practicing on his own. John offers to give Koby some pointers the next time he trains, but first, how about getting shown his way around town?

They talk as John leads Koby back to where he needs to be, introducing themselves properly. The two immediately get along, already having some things in common with their pink hair and friendly demeanors. When they turn the right corner and see Koby’s unit in the distance, John stays where he is, not wanting to get close. “Go on ahead. I’ll meet you in the forest tonight.”

”I should introduce you to Garp! You deserve some recognition,” Koby says, but John politely refuses. Before Koby leaves, he adds, “you should think about enlisting! You would make a great Marine.” John’s expression changes, lips pressing together tightly. He gives Koby a forced smile and says he’ll think about it.

After that, they meet when Koby sneaks out. John teaches him any basics Koby hasn’t already learned, demonstrating proper stances and forms. Koby’s a fast learner, so they even get to some more advanced techniques. Koby builds enough confidence to try sparring. John’s clearly advanced far ahead of him, but goes easy, always explaining to Koby what mistakes he made and helping him improve.

While they take breaks, they talk. John leans about Koby’s time spent as a pirate’s prisoner and sympathizes–pirates took something from John, too, but he won’t elaborate. Koby learns that John’s childhood was largely spent constantly training with an overbearing, brutally tough father.

Eventually, Koby has to set sail. John shows up once the boat has just left port, waving him goodbye. Koby enthusiastically waves back, and Garp squints at John’s distant figure. “Eh? Who the hell is that?” “A friend I made on the island,” Koby answers. Garp takes out a spyglass to get a better look. His jaw drops.  “What the–that’s John!” “You know him?” “Know him? He’s Admiral Akainu’s son!” “WHAT?!”

John and Koby don’t meet again for months, until they run into each other on another island. Koby immediately unloads all the questions he’s been holding onto, namely why? John tells him to slow down, and brings him to his favorite local eatery first.

“I didn’t tell you because it wasn’t important,” John said. “As for why I’m not a Marine…I still haven’t decided if that’s the right path for me. It’s…it’s complicated. For now, I just travel around and hone my skills.”

Koby accepts this, not that he has too much choice–he’s just glad he won’t get in trouble for hanging out with John, unlike a certain other rubbery friend of his.

From there on, John and Koby run into each other every now and then whenever they both wind up on the same island. John’s always the one that finds Koby, spying on local Marines and utilizing Observation Haki to sense if he’s near so they can hang out and train.

As Koby gets stronger, their sparring grows more intense, their relationship going from friends to rivals. Each time, no matter how long it’s been since they’ve seen each other, they always reunite with a smile and a solid fistbump.