#technically i work for both of them

[elithemiar-blog]

It is so wierd working for family.

These are your blood relatives and there's this environment you'd have outside of business that you've been used to all your life.

Getting uninvited back from a campground is a fond memory.

And now there's this new BUSINESS environment...and ur stuck between professionalism and I'm going to chuck a duck at you.

Because violence is a bonding experience and love language.

**for clarification, yes we throw rubber ducks at each other.

**there's opportunity that I can shoot my cousin (with a nerf, not an actual gun) and I haven't taken it...yet.

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

hero/villain showdown but one of them has a spontaneous medical emergency and the battle gets put on hold while their archnemesis drives them to Urgent Care

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Don't worry, they're into that.

(Want to know if this ancient sea god of destruction gets more belly paps? Or perhaps...a kiss? Find out in Tiger Tiger!)

[lunarcrown]

When grian wants to be carried around like a Princess by skizz but he has the attitude of a ornery cat SMH

[cognitiveafflatus]

i find it uniquely incredible that recently, somehow, the only posts i ever see from following the tag "slay the princess" are about the voices, and sometimes even shipping the voices, and seemingly focusing almost exclusively on them.

like i never really got it before until i saw this trend, and maybe tumblr is just giving me consistently dogshit posts in term of variety but it's incredible how a game who's titular character is a princess. who is the only character you can physically see in the game for almost 99% of the time. is somehow being made exclusively about male characters. who are also all one guy technically but talking in different voices.

like i just never fucking interact with people on this site besides via art or other mostly irrelevant comments so i didnt get it but wow yeah okay yall were right about the female character erasure in fandom spaces thing holy shit. like i thought it was an exaggeration but there are three fucking characters total in stp and i havent seen the one woman actually show up when tumblr suggests me a post with the tag in like a month. im sure if i go look id probably find her right now easily but it's insane how consistently the new stuff i was getting was only about the male voices. god.

[rblxmaxxing]

📂 BM DUMP havent done one in a While

stuff that was Done around the first week of may or so C: (this made me realize how awfully inconsistent i am with drawing him good Lord)

[flwrkid14]

Tim and Duke: Finding Their Place

It’s hard to feel like you belong when you’re always waiting for someone to tell you that you don’t.

Duke Thomas had always been an outsider. Growing up in the streets, never quite fitting in anywhere, always waiting for the other shoe to drop, for someone to see him as a “replacement.” A filler for someone that wasn’t there anymore, or someone that was missing from the picture.

It wasn’t that the batfamily didn’t accept him—hell, they’d welcomed him with open arms. Dick and Barbara made him laugh, and even Damian, with his snarky attitude, had slowly started respecting him. But it still felt like there was something missing. Like he wasn’t really part of the family. Like he was just another vigilante working beside them, trying his best to live up to an impossible standard.

He didn’t know where to fit. Didn’t know if he could fit.

Tim Drake was the last person Duke expected to find himself bonding with.

Tim, the third Robin, the one who had earned the title by proving himself after a tragedy. Tim, who was always a little too serious, a little too reserved, a little too smart for his own good. But somehow, Duke found himself slipping into conversations with Tim, finding small moments of camaraderie between them. They didn’t talk much about their respective pasts—Tim’s was a messy minefield of trauma and loss, Duke’s was a life lived in survival mode, both of them figuring out how to be something more than what Gotham tried to make them.

One night, after a particularly long patrol, the two found themselves sitting in the batcave. Duke was lounging on the edge of a desk, his hoodie pulled tight over his head, the ever-present weight of exhaustion pulling at his shoulders. Tim, as usual, was hunched over a computer, eyes glued to a screen that made him look even younger than he was.

“So,” Duke said, breaking the silence. “Do you ever feel like… I dunno. Like you’re just here to fill in for someone else?”

Tim’s fingers stilled on the keyboard. He didn’t look up. “Yeah.”

Duke blinked. “What?”

Tim finally turned his gaze up from the screen, his eyes tired but sharp. There was something in his expression that caught Duke off guard. A knowing look. “I mean,” Tim continued, voice low, “I’ve spent most of my life being called ‘the replacement.’ It’s not easy, you know? No matter how much you try to prove yourself, it’s always there. The ghost of ‘who you’re supposed to be.’”

Duke’s stomach twisted at the words. “You feel like that too?”

Tim let out a dry chuckle. “Yeah. All the time. Even when I’m with the family. Even when I’m with you guys. There’s always that part of me that wonders if I’m really needed, or if I’m just… filling in a spot.”

There was a silence that hung between them, heavier than the usual quiet that enveloped the Batcave. It was raw. Honest. Two boys who had lived through too much, felt too many expectations, and had spent their lives trying to prove they were worthy of the lives they’d been thrust into.

Duke let out a breath. “That’s crazy, man. You’re Tim Drake. You’re not just some replacement.”

Tim didn’t smile, but there was a shift in his expression, a small, almost imperceptible shift that showed Duke he understood. He wasn’t looking for validation, not really. It was the kind of unspoken recognition that said, I see you, and you see me.

“You don’t feel it though, huh?” Duke asked, a little unsure. “Like you’re just… pretending to be part of this family? Like you’ll never really belong?”

Tim’s eyes softened, and for the first time that night, he looked at Duke—not as the new guy, not as the one still trying to prove himself—but as someone who got it. “Yeah. I feel that. All the time.”

Duke shifted in his seat, looking down at his hands. The weight of those words—Tim’s words—felt different when they came from someone who understood. Someone who knew exactly what it was like to feel like you were never quite enough.

That was the moment things changed. It wasn’t the kind of bonding moment that happened with grand gestures or speeches. It wasn’t about solving everything, or fixing the endless loop of self-doubt that both of them shared. It was just about knowing that they weren’t alone in their feelings. They both carried that weight, that fear of never truly fitting in, of always wondering if they were “the replacement” in a family that had already been through so much.

But for that moment, for just a little while, they didn’t have to explain themselves to anyone else. They didn’t need to pretend. They didn’t need to be anyone other than the two of them.

“You know,” Duke said quietly, breaking the silence again. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Tim gave him a look, a quiet acknowledgment, his eyes flicking back to the screen. “Yeah, i'm glad you're here too.”

They didn’t say much more after that, but it didn’t matter. In the quiet of the cave, with the weight of their shared thoughts hanging between them, Duke knew he wasn’t just another vigilante in Gotham. He was here, with Tim, with the family. And for the first time in a long time, he could almost believe it.

Maybe, just maybe, he could belong.

And Tim? Tim didn’t feel like a replacement anymore, either.

[rsenak]

first kiss

[narfin-frood]

IM SO OBSESSED WITH YOUR AU AND ART its soooo so so good. Im curious how does Sylvia and peepers interact in this au? Is it similiar to canon with peepers being upset that Sylvia and wander might have bad influence on mr meteor and Sylvia simply finding peepers super annoying or is there something diffrent going on? I love these little critters yes

WHY THANK YOU ANON!! and sylvia is VERRRRY protective over wander, so their first few interactions are very hostile, but as a sylvipeepers friendship truther i think they end up like they do in canon with a sort of Begrudging respect for one another, at least enough to work together for a common good.

sylvia is fully, painfully aware that what wander's doing isn't healthy for anybody involved, but try as she might, she can't sway him away from it, so she resolves to just keep him as safe as possible. when she realizes meteor and peepers aren't really a threat, it becomes less about protecting wander from those two, and more about trying to keep the peace between them, and sometimes even protecting them from whatever wander's new scheme is to integrate them.

since we're on the topic of sylvia and her relationships to everybody, i'll respond to this question from @temmtamm as well:

sylvia met wander sometime just before The Big Catastrophic Event, and i think that instead of being a bounty hunter, she'd be something more along the lines of a private eye (or something)? working alone, paid by some asshole who wants information on the wandering weirdo's whereabouts, and subsequently charmed by wander's whole Everything enough to quit her job and join his emo band.

i think when Big Catastrophic Event happens, it's very early into their friendship, like less than a year or so, and since they go through it together, they end up sticking together for a very long time, because nobody else would possibly Understand.

[playing-pauls-mel0dy]

(warning for implied child abuse and eye imagery, as well as. vaguely implied transphobia, maybe?? if you squint i think??)

"And nobody you know

will understand."

so uh. seen a few different pieces of Petscop fanart that use lyrics from Things to Do by Alex G (and an animatic that. Makes Me Feel Things), but surprisingly None that focus around These Lyrics, so. "make the art you wanna see" and all that.

the eyes surrounding Paul are meant to represent Marvin: both in how Paul is paranoid that Marvin is going to hurt him (again) and is watching him...and the fact that Marvin is, In Fact, stalking him and planning to hurt him again.

idk. something something Paul, as he goes further and further into Petscop (in the art here, he's at around...Petscop 11?), the more nd more he feels like Care a kid again. the less he feels like a man. (< hence the. vague transphobia warning??)

but yeah. forgot to do full shading with this, but it still looks pretty good, i'd say!!

@that-darn-clown hey bestie :]

[moeblob]

Sorry I forgot Hanneman suggested Byleth undress after they show up with a different hair color. And I miss Hanneman. And also while swapping between Houses and Hopes and seeing Hanneman pop up to help in a Hopes paralogue is just devastating since he doesn't ever actually join you at all and I am denied my old man rights.

So I had to draw this. Thank you for understanding.

[vickyvicarious]

3. cold hands in warm hands Jonathan+Quincey

6 October, morning.

"I shall not wait for any opportunity," Quincey said fiercely. "When I see the box I shall open it and destroy the monster, though there were a thousand men looking on, and if I am to be wiped out for it the next moment!"

Almost before he had finished speaking, Harker stepped up to him and reached out to clasp his hand. His grip was strong, his eyes blazing, and in that moment a solemn promise was agreed upon between the two of them without a single word spoken. They were in agreement: neither of them would let any chance slip by. This Count would die at their hands, no matter the cost.

It was no longer any real surprise at this point, but Quincey still found himself thinking it again: there's the man who made it out of that castle.

After Van Helsing finished speaking, all the men turned to disperse. Quincey stood behind for a moment or two, lost in thought. He had less to arrange than the others. Watching over Art after his father and fiancee's death, he'd taken a notion - and then an afternoon - to update his own will. He hadn't known exactly why, then. The musing over where the blood had gone had reminded him of the Pampas, sure, but he hadn't truly expected anything like what was to come. He'd just seen all Arthur had to deal with, and thought to smooth the path back home should the unexpected come to pass.

For all that everything had changed in the past few days, not much about his affairs would stand any different now. The only exception, perhaps, was the man whose oath he now shared, and that excellent, kind lady to which he was married. Perhaps he should add a proviso for their sake as well.

Thinking of the couple got Quincey's feet moving, and he quickly moved down the hallway. He caught up just before Harker stepped back into his own room, calling out to him.

"Might I have a word before you go?"

"Of course, Mr. Morris. What can I do for you?" He turned away from the door, his hand slipping off the handle.

"Pardon me for this, but," Quincey said, reaching out to grasp that hand before it fell to the man's side, "it's more yourself."

"I... don't understand," Harker said, his tone mildly confused. He didn't pull his hand away, but Quincey noticed him sliding a foot back an inch, firming his back to the wall. He looked straight up into Quincey's eyes.

"I couldn't help but notice," Quincey said. He reached up to fold both his palms around Harker's hand, squeezing a little. Hopefully sharing a bit of warmth.

Harker's hand was ice-cold between his fingers. He knew he ran a little hotter than most, but still he'd noticed the chill the moment they'd touched. Harker's face was pale, his eyes fierce but tired, all color washed out of his hair. For the past three days, he'd been moving about as if there was lightning running down his spine; a deep well of crackling energy barely hidden within his body, and rising almost to the surface whenever talk turned to their foe. Quincey respected it like anything. And yet...

"I apologize if I'm poking my nose where it isn't wanted. But I'd like to suggest you take it easy, today. Join your wife in her rest." Quincey rubbed the hand between his a little, drawing Harker's gaze and attention down to the point of contact between them. "We'll need all our strength when the time comes."

There was a long pause before Harker spoke.

"Thank you," he said, very quietly, eyes still on Quincey's hands. He looked back up again before going on: "I will try to keep that in mind."

His eyes were cold, too. Not heartless, just the opposite - all the heart within him set so firmly on his goal that everything else froze over. A deadly storm, just waiting to break loose, an intention sharp as a knife. Quincey felt a little hint of that lightning slip between them, settling against his own spine.

He let go, confident that Harker understood. The man might need a reminder or two in the days to come, but he'd make it through without collapsing prematurely. He'd do what it took to be there at the end, and he'd be ready when it came.

"That was all," Quincey said, stepping back. He nodded with a smile, and Harker smiled back. It was a small enough one, but that it was there at all was probably enough.

He headed off further down the hall, but didn't go right to his own room. He'd add the Harkers in, sure enough, but the worst eventualities could wait a little longer. First, he'd like to do something to help them before that day. They'd be heading out in the morning; that gave him an afternoon to find what he needed.

After it was all over, Mrs. Harker would probably want to write up their stories again. He'd seen that typewriter of hers, and surely there was something in London better-suited to bring along. And her husband... well, perhaps he could use a pair of gloves.

.

5 November, evening.

Harker wasn't wearing his gloves. Quincey had seen him wearing them when he set out with Art, so he didn't know why not today. Maybe he, too, had gotten hot during the headlong chase.

He must have, Quincey decided, because his ungloved hands felt so warm. He could feel one behind his head, supporting him, and one was reaching down over his own hand, pressing hard into his side.

It hurt. It hurt like nothing he'd ever felt, but Quincey didn't mind. Because he was cold, and getting colder. It was funny how the blood against his hand felt so hot, when his hand itself was trembling from the cold. Maybe it wasn't that Harker's hand was warm, but just his own that was cold.

Mrs. Harker's hand was warm, too. So warm around his other hand, and her eyes were welling up with tears, but full of life as well, for the first time in so long. He smiled to comfort her before the end came.

But it was all right. Wracked with shivers as he was, he didn't mind. The cost was paid. They'd agreed on that, and if anyone had to pay it, better he than...

It was good Harker wasn't wearing his gloves. The fabric would be clean later, not stained with the blood leaking out around both their fingers no matter how hand they pressed on the wound. Clean like Mrs. Harker's forehead, smooth and unblemished. Thank God. Thank God, that was truly a gift to see!

"I am only too happy to have been of any service! Oh, God!" he cried, shoving himself upright, pulling his hand away from Harker's to point to her. The wind bit at his exposed fingers, and he felt so cold, but it was okay. It was worth it to show them, in his last moments, now that the end had truly come. "It was worth for this to die!"

[maddragonfruit]

In my mind the original Creativity and a Roman/Remus fusion would be entirely different sides

[whenastrofell]

I need to better design my fanpart characters...

[myreia]

— iv. broken | trust

Trust. It isn’t easily given, nor is it easily accepted. He was the first person she trusted in Eorzea. She doesn’t know how or why, but she did. She took that risk. In the years that followed, there was a time when their friendship had disintegrated to such a degree that it was a stab to the gut, and all they knew was how to twist the knife deeper. Even then—even through that—she trusted him. Trusted him when they were both broken and stupid and fuelled by spite and hate and grief. The faith she has in him is a different kind now. Stronger, implicit, as natural as drawing breath. When they are in the thick of it, he is her guardian and she his shield. She trusts him. Even when he is being impetuous and stubborn and a fool. Even when he has no regard for his own well-being. When sacrifice is a word that comes terrifyingly easily to his mind.   She knows he will do the right thing. And she will be there, to pick him up when he is broken, just as he has done for her. Come what may, she will be there.

[scribefindegil]

Realizing that my personal catnip when it comes to fanworks is "this is a very canon-typical problem, but none of the characters who could provide canon-typical solutions are available so it falls to someone with zero relevant skills except unlimited stubbornness to figure it out instead."