#you ask i supply

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 100

“What are you, a Kent?” 

It’s a saying in the world of the supernatural. A well-known one even. See, several, many generations back, no one quite knows when, the Kent family managed to run afoul of a particularly nasty creature who laid a curse upon them. The original wording, no one quite knows either, but the gist, everyone is aware of. For no firstborns will be born to them before they already have one. 

It was supposed to be airtight in a way, a curse that would end the entire bloodline really. For a child to exist before they could have a child? How could that be? 

Well. That curse had… backfired. It had backfired massively. Most, at least back when blood was everything, didn’t exactly ponder things like adoption to those outside of their own bloodline. The Kents however, lived in a very simple village, one that had disease spread through it often back then, leaving families childless and children parentless. 

What were they to do but take them in? And so they had a son, many sons and daughters even, before their firstborn. Now of course, most would simply dismiss it afterwards. After all, that was the end of the story, isn’t it? 

Well, no. See, the curse was a family-line curse, a just in case perhaps, that meant that each generation could not have any children until they had children. Perhaps it should have ended there, but well. It didn’t. 

Kents are a strange breed in the world of the supernatural, known for having a… bit of an adoption problem. If any child or babe were to be left near their land, one can be assured the family line would take them in as their own. 

Fae, demon, human, changeling, satyr, cyclops, half-breeds, werewolf- it didn’t matter. A Kent would gladly pick the child up and raise it as their own. And now, they could add aliens to that long, long list in the family line. 

And really, perhaps with this context, is it really surprising that when one Clark Kent, said alien, opens his door to a basket on his doorstep holding a trio of godlings, he takes them in with no questions asked? 

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

joking aside, I love this site. I have learned so much from this site. I have received so much love and support from this site, and I hope to be here for years to come (especially now that we accidentally won Least Worst Social Media Platform, despite our very best efforts)

that being said, taking a break was really helpful for me mentally. it made me realize how much pressure I was putting on myself to keep people entertained so they would like me. I'm talking like, 'rereading & editing a single dumb shitpost a dozen times a day' levels of overthinking.

So yeah: I love it here, I plan to keep making people (and myself) laugh, but going forward I'm going to be putting less pressure on myself to be as entertaining/active as i used to aim for. Less "I choked on my gogurt" levels of humor, more "sensible chuckle." (sometimes I may even indulge in a joke that purposefully fails to resonate with the audience! it will be quite a mischievous little treat for me 🤭.)

anyways please be patient if my posts lack a certain pizzazz going forward. the pizzazz is out of stock. no there is none in the back room. the pizzazz is on back order ok. no I'm not paying for expedited shipping. our supplier is experiencing a shortage. pizzazz is a controlled substance, do you have no understanding of the paperwork involved? piss off with your piddling pizzazz

TLDR if you think my posts were mediocre before just u wait sweetheart you ain't seen nothing yet. (they are going to get worse. what I'm saying is they are going to get even more underwhelming. i feel good about this.)

[daily-yin]

Can u draw paper and yin being best buds

Day 16

[where-does-the-heart-lie]

Hey! Question.

Do you also suffer from the sadness you create? Or are you just here to torment us?

Thanks!

-Me

Hey! Answer:

Thanks for the ask!

-Me

[shepscapades]

Um. Ok. Still reeling from the fact that bbno$ is canon in your universe and produces music. What

(Also I loooove your dbhc au!!!!)

bbno$ is also a hermitcraft watcher I would know we’re super tight

[evil-no-good-overlord-jojo]

do you guys ever think abt what it means that Contessa shoots twice at the end of Worm.

do you guys ever think its because the first shot was fired without the use of her power.

[arttsuka]

I wonder if Jedediah and octavius ever celebrated the 4th of July together? (also your leftover veggie dish looks like it would make Gordon Ramsay cry with joy :) )

They probably, most definitely did celebrate together I think

Featuring my failed attempt at drawing fireworks 🎆

If Gordon Ramsey were to see that dish he'd cry in general I think, given the fact that I forgot to put enough salt :')

[arthursfuckinghat]

I know the gang cares about Arthur and they knew his sickness was serious and it's part of the narrative and whatnot, but really would it have killed them to just offer the occasional "is there anything you need Arthur?" or "anything we can do to help?" or even "how are you feeling today?" - I'm sure Arthur would rather be pestered slightly than have his rapid illness get straight up ignored yknow?

[spockandawe]

Okay, it's not a good *wallet* habit, but i highly recommend cultivating a stress response of acquiring a new niche hobby. Work is hard? New hobby! Never enough hours in the day to do important things? NEW HOBBY. It's a flawless solution, don't even worry. I have no idea how long I'm going to be preoccupied with this, because I'm accelerating but have no gauge for max speed, but straw marquetry time

[elizakai]

if it’s traditional why does it have color.

.

.

.

i didn’t want to have to do this…

…lemme just

.

.

.

.

.

[ruvviks]

All That's Left follows two journalists and their friends in post-apocalyptic United States as they travel from the fallen east coast megalopolis Opportunity back to Los Angeles, crossing through a harsh wasteland overrun with zombies— only to find out that there is a lot more life left than what the protected cities want them to believe. On their journey they meet dozens of people living their lives as peaceful as possible away from military forces, corporations, and corrupt governments; and they learn that the same mutated ghouls that took down Opportunity are spreading rapidly through the country, destroying everything in their path. Will this finally be the end of the world as we know it?

taglist (opt in/out)

@shellibisshe, @florbelles, @ncytiri, @hibernationsuit, @stars-of-the-heart;

@vvanessaives, @katsigian, @radioactiveshitstorm, @estevnys, @adelaidedrubman;

@celticwoman, @rindemption, @carlosoliveiraa, @noirapocalypto, @dickytwister;

@killerspinal, @euryalex, @ri-a-rose, @velocitic, @thedeadthree

[corviiids]

sparknotes for chapter 9 of as you like it because a very kind commenter asked for a breakdown and if theres one thing im good at it's breaking down

(spoilers for the fic obviously)

tihs chapter gave me so much trouble. i sat on it for so long i literally hated it by the time i posted it but im starting to forgive it now. it was, as ive said, originally way longer, and the next part of the fic was supposed to be the second half of this one... but it was starting to get absurd and i realised that neither part would have the weight i needed them to have if they were lumped in together. (with some relief, honestly, because i kind of had wanted them to be separate initially but didn't think they'd be long enough. i dont know myself very well.) anyway, the next chapter should be a bit of a doozy now although hopefully not SO absurdly long.

this chapter picks up where the previous cliff hung off, which is to say, after the 'shadow' akechi reveals that he's actually just the real ass guy. akechi in the palace what will he do. the chapter doesn't immediately kick off with ren's reaction though and that is because ren is the most repressed man alive and does not know how he feels about it.

so, akechi disguised himself to enter his palace, which is significant for a few reasons:

1. he's disguised as himself

which i think is ironic in a fun way, but it's also just a very basic nod to the fact that akechi pivots between which of his personae is his default. this isn't necessarily super meaningful, but he does later refer to the black mask suit as

a costume, instead of an outfit. i mean, don't read into it too much, he's just talking, but i did think that probably points to how he feels about his appearance generally.

2. more importantly, his disguise involves taking off his mask.

so he's disguised, yes, and he's disguised as himself, yes, but that disguise is a literal unmasking, which is also kind of ironic. in presenting himself this way he has literally and figuratively made himself vulnerable. they're inside his heart, and the entire time he's in the palace, he is exposed... again both literally and figuratively because he also starts sharing more with ren than he ever has. look, i just think it's fun to have a character who has so many layers that he has to lie so hard that he becomes himself again.

i only want to point this out because (this is also part of larger meta about mona lol) akechi knew about the metaverse, but there is no way to intuit the method of stealing hearts without guidance. it's such a specific and involved process. thje most akechi could work out on his own was that if you killed a shadow, that person would have a mental breakdown. no way to guess that if you send a calling card and then go in within the next 24 hours and take a physical manifestation of a thing that you didn't know existed (process) would lead to that person ahving a change of heart (result). so even if akechi had a palace and knew about it, even if he wanted to do something about it, he would have assumed there was nothing he could do about it - i also have no idea what the process would be for sending yourself a calling card, even if he DID know about the process. so basically in this fic akechi found his palace and just assumed that was it. he was like, fucked up lol. anyway

this just straight up isn't true HAHA so i put in the silly little dichotomy of akechi gently taking ren's arm to protect him from slipping on the ice while telling him that he lied about caring about him. i think in this chapter as akechi begins to openly explain more and more of his thought process, this is probably the first truly clear glimpse you get of exactly what akechi's distortion is and how deep it runs.

the things akechi says with total conviction in this chapter are just... not true, not a fair or founded way to view the world (or the art of performance haha), but he says them with total conviction, and hopefully it should show off how unreliable he is as a source of exposition. one commenter asked about this moment of akc's eyes going yellow and if it was somehting that happened in canon - not really, i was just thinking about those little moments in the game after you send a calling card where the game cuts from the person to their shadow to do a little oneliner about their distortion.

akechi's IN his own palace, so i thought it would be fun to kind of make it a physical thing that can happen to him where he sort of merges with his shadow for a brief second in the moments when the distortion is strongest.

OKAY this is one of my favourite bits of the chapter HAHA the deep soda lore. i dont expect anyone to remember all the way back to chapter 3 but:

literally nobody asked about this but i love the phantom thieves!!! i dream of all the little silly moments of being a team that they must have that we don't get to see in gameplay, for obvious reasons of it wouldn't really work in a game, but i can imagine them in my brain. i can imagine their trickshot contests that get their asses kicked. i can imagine them chanting at each other to chug while joker and oracle compete to down an entire bottle of brand neutral mountain dew baja blast. i can dream.

soda lore is gay.

i dont honestly think it's inherently a bad thing necessarily but this part does kind of set up like... you can see akechi very early on in life forming this worldview that the truth isn't always what you want, you know? this was a 'lie' he and his mother both bought into, they both knew what the truth actually was, so it wasn't real dishonesty, but they just had this little fantasy. i just thought it would be fun for akechi to have a way to bond with his mother and feel closer to her, and that way is by buying into this white lie. idk

akechi's mother isn't really a character and i don't want to form her into too much of one because i think it's very much the point that, like... he made this point in an earlier chapter but having lost her at a pretty young age i think it's quite crucial that akechi doesn't really have a fully formed image of who his mother is outside of what she was to him as a child. so i actively don't want her to feel too real or defined. im not interested in making an oc out of her because i think it defeats the purpose. that said, this line exists to maybe gesture very vaguely at the notion that akechi's mother was a very bright person who similarly was stuck in circumstances that didn't serve to foster her real potential. just the image in my mind of a person who's clever enough to get across algebraic notation in chess by flipping through a book in a few minutes, but was never exposed to the opportunity to learn chess until this moment in someone else's house, and also the particular situation of learning this skill WHILE at someone's place as a call girl, i dunno . i hope im treating this with the grace it deserves but i wanted to build just this particular image in vivid colour while also keeping the reality quite blurry and vague, just to give the reader a sense of where akechi came from while still preserving his limited pov.

my thoughts on the phantom thieves' methods (and how they compare to maruki) are definitely too long and involved to put into a post about this fic chapter specifically, but maybe one day. i also wanna stress im not like... strictly anti-phantom thief or anti-heartstealing lol but i do have thoughts about the philsophy of it and the thieves' hypocrisy WHATEVER that's not for this post. i bring this up only to crow about finding a way to bring up the experience machine (ie maruki's reality) in this fic without it being royal compliant and have it be... hoepfully... sufficiently relevant to the plot. wa hoo! the experience machine came up for the first time back in chapter 4 and im just delighted that i finally got to close that loop. by the way, that experiment is also called the lotus eater machine after the lotus eaters in the odyssey! i dunno that it's actively my favourite thought experiment but it's definitely up there and i think about it a lot.

TITLE DROP

i think i spoke once about what 'as you like it' means. it's obviously the name of the shakespeare play from where 'all the world's a stage' comes, but it has a couple more layers to it as well - akechi's palace is a place where he performs to what he believes other people want or need to see from him - so his appearance is as you like it. and his accusation of the thieves' heartstealing methods is that they twist a person's internal reality to suit their vision - that's the meaning he's taking here, claiming that joker is turning akechi into an unfamiliar new thing, as [joker] like[s] it. you get it.

this running joke of ren really hating vents wasn't something i planned but im attached to it now. prayer circle for his knees

ive basically given up on making sense of samerecarm, which is par for the course for any rpg or video game really where reduction to 0hp/revival are mechanics. like, im inclined to think 0hp is more equivalent to unconsciousness, because... well... otherwise it's pretty cold that they left akechi dead in the engine room without even looking for a way around the wall. lol. but one of mona's revival lines is 'being dead isnt easy!' or something like that, so i kind of just give up and assume it's video game logic you'r enot meant to look at too hard lol. the way i reconcile it for my purposes is to say it's a sort of metaverse-exclusive state of being which is not quite dead but sort of in a limbo state wher eyou can be brought back with specific revival magic, which i refer to as being down. that's uhhh, that's different from the battle status of down... which you get after being hit with a crit/technical/weak skill... look, don't think about it. joker in crow's arms.

this is literally meaningless i just wanted to include a cameo of my very favourite persona q2 battle theme.

[thetarttfuldickhead]

Roy wakes, fully hard and – two seconds later, when the details of the dream return to him – fully panicked.

Fuck.

---

It’s not like he’s never had sex dreams before. Come on. But none of them had featured men (except that weird one about Lee Pace in a banana costume and that hadn’t left him so much turned on as thoroughly confused) and abso-fucking-lutely not a single one of them had starred Jamie Tartt.

Jamie Tartt, who is now standing right in front of him in the dressing room, saying something about football something something, right Coach, something free kicks, and all Roy can think about is how he now has a very vivid idea of what those lips would look like when wrapped around his cock.

Jamie pushes a strand of hair of out of his eyes. They look grey now; in Roy’s dream they were green-tinting-towards-brown and heavy-lidded with lust as Roy had pushed him back on the bed— 

Roy can’t stand it. Except one very specific part of him apparently can and no, no, fuck no, he’s not doing this. Without a word he turns on his heel and walks away, ignoring Jamie’s surprised objection.

Fuck.

---

Training is a nightmare.

The only way Roy can get through it at all is by not sparing Jamie a single glance. (Jamie running, dribbling, shooting; Jamie turning and twisting, as graceful as water; Jamie with hair damp with sweat and calling out to the others with that eager voice that had called out Roy’s name last night.) It’s really fucking difficult, though, because he’s used to always keeping at least half an eye on Jamie these days, no matter what else is going on. Besides, the prick’s everywhere, rushing around the pitch like the fucking Duracell Bunny on speed. Roy clearly made a huge mistake ever pushing him towards the heights of endurance because the little shit just. won’t. stop. 

Roy’s attempts at avoidance don’t go unnoticed, either. He can feel the eyes of Beard and Nate on him; can see the way the other players look from him to Jamie and mutter among themselves. 

He makes them run suicides until they collapse just to shut them up and when Jamie is the only one still on his feet Roy tells Beard that oh fuck, he has a really important meeting he needs to go to right now, he fucking forgot about it and now he’s running late, could Beard and Nate finish this up please, and of course Roy doesn’t flee from the pitch because Roy Kent doesn’t fucking flee from anything. He walks off rather hurriedly, sure, but that’s just to properly sell the lie of the meeting he’s in a rush to. 

“Yeah, something is definitively up with him and Jamie,” he hears Beard mutter to Nate as he walks off.

Fuck.

---

He withdraws to the supply cupboard where he’s not likely to be disturbed, or found. He’s not hiding, obviously; he just needs a few moments to himself, to gather his wits. He’d drive home, except he actually does have a meeting with Rebecca in a couple of hours, and she is the one person he daren’t piss off. Not because she’s terrifying – although she can be, a fact that Roy respects immensely – but because she’ll know that something is off if he doesn’t show and unlike everyone else she has both the guts and the capacity to force it out of him.

In a farcical turn of events, which he entirely blames on Dr. Sharon (and maybe also on Keeley and Jamie a little, for their absurd and sometimes infectious tendency towards emotional honesty), Roy thinks that maybe he wouldn’t mind talking to someone about this. Maybe it would… help? Give him some perspective on things? 

Problems is, there’s no one he can talk to, is there? Jamie is right out, for obvious reasons, and while this would probably be right up the Diamond Dogs’ alley, there’s no fucking way Roy is telling his fellow coaches and the club’s director of football operations about having a wet dream about the team’s star player. Apart from the utter mortification of it, it’s hardly fair on Jamie, having almost all his bosses discuss him like that. Even if it’s not the real Jamie they’d be discussing, really, just the very bendable and delightfully masochistic Jamie that’s taken shameless residence in Roy’s battered mind. 

He can’t talk to Rebecca, for the same reason, even though he’s pretty sure she’d be able to say something clever enough and cutting enough that he’d snap right out of whatever the hell this is. Maybe she’d declare him clinically insane and unfit for duty and have him carted off to an asylum or some shit, and as much as that would suck it’d be a bit of a relief, honestly. At least he wouldn’t near twist his neck off his shoulders trying to avoid looking at Jamie. 

Jamie would probably come and visit him, the fucking arsehole.

And Roy can’t talk to Keeley, either, because even though she’s probably the best person to bring this to and the person he’d most like to talk to, she’s been clear about having no interest in sorting Roy and Jamie’s shit out for them. Besides, he doesn’t want to somehow give her the idea that he’s over her. He’s not. He had a pretty wild dream about her just the other week, and—

For a brief moment, he’s assailed by the image of Keeley and Jamie tangled on Roy’s mattress, looking up at him with twin smiles and—

In spite of the cupboard being rather chilly, Roy starts to sweat. Desperately, he crosses his legs and forces his mind back to the time when he took a chug of orange juice only for it to be egg yolk and he nearly threw up. 

It doesn’t really help. He’s still turned on, only now he’s feeling sick too. 

He could talk to Dr. Sharon, he guesses, but Dr. Sharon is travelling southern France for the rest of the week.

Roy won’t last that long.

Fuck. 

--- 

The door to the cupboard is pulled open with enough force to almost startle Roy off of the bucket he’s sat on. 

“All right, what the fuck’s going on, man?” Jamie demands, without even having the decency to look surprised at finding Roy hiding hanging out among the mops and micro fibre cloths. “Did you hit your head and forget the last two years or something?”

“Of course not,” Roy mutters, determinedly not looking up from the computer precariously balanced on his lap.

“Then why the fuck are you ignoring me? The lads all think I did something really bad!” There’s a plaintive note in Jamie’s voice, reminding Roy of the noises dream-Jamie had made when Roy— 

Roy closes his eyes. He can’t go on like this. He’s pretty sure that if he could just get a day or two – three or four tops, absolutely no more than five – away from Jamie, away from these constant reminders, the details of the dream would fade away, and his desire with it – but they have a game the day after tomorrow, so that’s not going to happen, and he can’t keep avoiding Jamie until then. It’d be bad for the team – not to mention that he can’t really stomach the hurt he hears in Jamie’s voice.

Nothing for it, then. Fuck it all to hell.

“I had a sex dream,” he grits out, carefully looking to the doorframe right next to Jamie’s face, so that he can catch Jamie’s reactions without having to look him in the eye.

Jamie doesn’t react much, just cocks his head to the side. “You had a sex dream about me?”

“Did I say it was about you, you muppet?!” Conceited prick.

“Uh, no, but it was? You wouldn’t be all weird about it if wasn’t.” Trust Jamie to always choose the worst moments to be insightful and reasonable. He’s doing it just to be contrary, Roy’s sure of it. 

Jamie’s watching him expectantly, as if believing Roy will elaborate or explain further. Roy doesn’t say a word. Roy is busy stonily inspecting a small speck of dirt on the wall next to Jamie’s face.

Eventually, Jamie lets out a long sigh and rolls his eyes. “Fine. What’s the big deal then?” 

Now Roy’s eyes snap to Jamie’s face, because what the hell? “What do you mean, what’s the big deal? You don’t think it’s a little weird and really fucking uncomfortable that I, Roy Kent, had a sex dream about you, Jamie Tartt? I’m your fucking coach! We’re friends!”

Jamie makes a face, like Roy’s being the insane one. “Roy, mate, you’ve seen the wall in my old bedroom. Bunch of half-naked girls and you, right? You never did the math on that?” 

Roy has, in fact, never done the math on that. Hasn’t realize there as math to do. “You were impressed by my prowess as a football player,” he tries feebly.

Jamie rolls his eyes. “Um, yeah. Which is hot.”

“… oh.”

Roy doesn’t know what else to say to that. Doesn’t know how to feel about that. Hasn’t the faintest idea about how to even begin to process it.

Jamie is watching him with a small frown. He looks concerned, pitying almost, which makes Roy want to go throw himself in the Thames more than anything else in this discussion has.

“So,” Jamie says eventually, speaking slowly, like he’s trying very hard to find the right words, “all these years and you never once figured that this whole thing we’ve got going, all this fucking tension, that it was… you know… just a little bit sexual?”

“No.”

“What, never?”

“No.” 

“That’s fucking mental, man.” Jamie looks like he doesn’t know whether to be incredulous or impressed. Then his eyes widen. “Ooh, is this because men getting with other men was illegal when you were a kid back in the dark ages? They burned people alive and shit, so you’re, like, repressed and stuff?”

Roy is about to bite his head off for pulling out fucking stupid ha ha you’re so old jokes now, except there’s something in Jamie’s eyes giving him the distinct impression that maybe Jamie is deliberatedly being a prick, doing it for Roy’s sake, trying to offer him a sense of normalcy or something, and that’s actually quite sweet, isn’t it? Only that thought has Roy’s heart doing something weird and stupid, so actually no, back to Jamie just being a prick.

“We’re in love with Keeley,” he says, and he means for it to be gruff, but it comes out pleading more than anything else.

“Yeah, I know.” Jamie sounds exasperated. “None of this means we ain’t. Fucking hell, mate, tension’s just tension, yeah, no need to fucking act on it if you don’t want to. And dreams are just dreams. I’m mad fit, you see me running around doing impressive shit all day, course you’re gonna dream about me, be weirder if you didn’t. Bet half the team do the same, anyway. It doesn’t have to mean anything.” Jamie crosses his arms, and looks as serious and decisive as Jamie ever does. “Listen, Coach, we’re playing West Ham this Saturday, and you need to stop being weird about this and start coaching me and not freak everyone out.”

Roy doesn’t ask him what Jamie think he’s been trying to do all day. Not his fault Jamie’s been right there, all pretty eyes and strong thighs and distracting lips and shit. But he doesn’t say that; instead, he sighs, because Jamie, infuriatingly, has a point. “Yeah. Okay. But… just give me a fucking minute. Go get changed and I’ll be there in fifteen, all professional and shit.”

“Great. See you then, Coach.”

Jamie turns and as he walks away Roy can’t help his gaze sliding down to Jamie’s arse, noticing the way the blue shorts cling to the round buttocks, leaving little enough to the imagination, only Roy is imagining what they’d look like sans shorts and red from Roy’s fingers and palm, wondering if the reality would match the dream.

Fuck. 

---

Dreams are just dreams. Roy tells Dr. Sharon as much during their next appointment, because even though talking to Jamie helped him pull himself together just enough to muddle through the rest of the week with his sanity mostly intact, he’s still feeling rather rattled by the whole mess. Untethered. 

Jamie’s been brilliant, carrying on as if nothing’s changed between them. Somehow, that hasn’t helped as much as Roy would’ve thought it would. 

Dr. Sharon listens carefully and without judgement, as she always does. “You’ve had dreams before,” she notes once Roy’s fallen silent. “I’m sure some of them have been strange or unsettling. Has any of them ever affected you like this?” 

“No. Like I said, it’s just dreams, right? It’s not real. Shouldn’t affect me. Never fucking does, not even the sexy ones, usually.”

“Right. So why do you think this one was different?”

Roy stares at her. She returns his stare calmly, patiently. Waits, watching him, until he can’t help but catch the shape of it reflected back at him in her kind eyes.

Fuck. 

---

“What if I don’t want it to be just a dream?” 

“Eh?” 

Jamie’s peering at him through the open door, looking like he’s wondering what Roy is doing showing up unannounced and spouting nonsense on his doorstep at half past three on a rest day. 

Which, okay, fair enough. 

“What if I don’t want it to be just a dream?” Roy repeats, a little slower this time. 

For another moment, Jamie just stares at him. Then his eyes widen, lightening up with delight. “Oh! You mean… ?” He gestures between them.

“Yeah,” Roy says and then he’s being pulled into the hallway by his jacket and he has time to think that that they really need to figure out how Keeley fits into all of this and then he has his arms around a body that is firm and solid and there and Jamie Tartt is kissing him and it’s not a dream at all. 

Fuck. Oh, fuck… !

[iguessthisisanewobsession]

*Look at that one ghost pregnancy carving meme*

Sure, they're normal pregnancy carving... And then they're weird ones. Like, yes, he can't eat a batarang, but that doesn't mean he doesn't want to.

Have a little crack I guess! Also bonus point if it's angst for the others batfam members

Angst, you say?

Jason came out of a daze to the sound of broken glass.

Why was he in Tim’s room? He remembers getting up to look in the kitchen. Nothing was appealing at the moment but he was hungry and Dr. Leslie mentioned he was a little below weight.

He was looking and nothing was appealing but then he felt a pull and-

“Jason, what the fuck.”

Tim looked disheveled, clearly back from his patrol.

Why was he freaking out? Sure, Tim finding him here was strange but-

Jason was suddenly aware of something papery in his mouth.

“Wha-?”

“Jason why?”

Tim looked like he had shot him, and as Jason looked around him he realized that he may as well.

Around him laid a shredded old box.

Tim’s old photo box.

He remembers when he was first reached out to his family again after the mess of reintroduction.

The olive branch Tim held out to him. The night they sat in the lounge as Tim shyly showed him the years of photos. They were up until dawn reminiscing. It was the first time he started to think of the two of them as brothers.

They weren’t all ruined but quite a few had obvious teeth marks and tears.

Shit.

“I-I don’t- fuck! Baby bird I’m so sorry. I don’t even remember..”

Jason raised a frustrated palm to his eyes at tears started to pool.

Fuck, Tim was shutting down.

“It’s- it’s fine, I was in the middle of digitizing the photos anyways. Never know what will happen, you know?”

Jason removed the photo from his mouth and tried to flatten it out what was left. It was one of the one’d around his debut as Robin, sitting on a gargoyle under a moonlit sky.

Jason gently got off his knees with a wobble before he gently took his brother into his arms.

“I-I already got most of them taken care of.. It’s fine.. you didn’t- the baby been doing a lot of strange things to you. You nearly bit a batarang last week- it’s not- something like this was bound to happen and-“

Tim made a keening he folded himself into Jason’s side.

Looking around at the carnage as Jason tried his best to comfort his brother as he wailed.

“This shouldn’t’ve happened. I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”

He muttered as he rubbed up and down Tim’s back.

“Okay… Okay.. How about we go downstairs huh? We can go downstairs, and I’ll make us some hot chocolate ‘n’ we can put on one of those shitty b-rated horror movies we love to roast.”

Avoiding what Jason could only assume was a cup of coffee on the floor, he closed the door and gently guided his little brother down the hall.

Tags for hoodlums:

@numbuh-7-knd @phoenixdemonqueen @thegatorsgoose @storm-and-fire @elvesandlanterns @moedango @skulld3mort-1fan @apointlessbox @samgirl98 @thedragonqueen1998 @booberrylizard @idek618 @littlefeather345 @iosonotoro @dxrksong @moonfirearc @terzatheunderscorerima @moedango

[lesboylycan]

"i only support pwASPD/NPD if they choose to recover" lol good to know that you're not worth thinking about. we've done everything we need to do to be at least somewhat happy with ourselves. we're going to actively choose not to try and "improve" anything else if it isn't killing us, and you're a big part of the reason why 👍

telling us you only care about us if we choose to "recover" only makes us not want to recover. especially since we know the only recovery that matters to you is the recovery that makes us look like a persotypical. you don't care about pwASPD/NPD, you only care about fixing us. kiss my ass.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Hello! I was wondering if you’d be willing to take commissions someday 👀. No pressure tho! I just love your art so much

The short answer: "not at the moment, but it is very possible in the future'!

The slightly longer answer: I would have to figure out a good pricing and payment system! PD-MDZS is also where most of my free time goes, so until my life settles down a bit, I would be on the slow side to complete them.