#THATI

[patchworkorphan]

The Hero and the Infant: Part Two

Read part one here

*~*~*~*~*

“Villain.”

The hero didn’t shout it. They didn’t need to. Villain would hear them fine even over all the destruction and screaming and emergency services. Hero just stared from the street up at Villain and Villain looked down at Hero. Hero lifted their hand in a wave and then pulled the cigarette from their lips, exhaling a lungful of smoke.

“Hero –” sidekick began but Hero shook their head.

“It’s okay kid. I got it from here,” Hero said still staring at Villain. “So, you gonna invite me up or do I have to climb twelve flights of stairs?”

Villain just stared. Sidekick moved forward, suddenly hesitant in bringing Hero here. Just as they opened their mouth to say it to Hero, Sidekick was wrenched into the sky by an invisible hand and suddenly Hero and the street were below them.

“Fucking shit,” Hero cursed, flicking their cigarette to the ground as they started running to the apartment building to the left of Villain and taking the stairs two at a time.

Villain stared at Sidekick with a probing, scientific kind of curiosity, like they were able to look under Sidekick's skin and unravel all their secrets with enough determination.

“You’re new,” Villain purred. Their voice like liquid silver dancing its way through the sky to Sidekick’s ears sending a shiver down their spine.

“Yeah. I’m Superhero’s sidekick.”

Villain tilted their head to the side and asked, voice deadpan, “do you know the mortality rate of Superhero’s previous sidekicks?”

Sidekick stared Villain in the eye as they said, “I do.”

“And you took the job anyways?”

“I did.”

“Hmm. Not very chatty. You remind me of an old friend of mine.”

“Forgive me, I don't usually chitchat while floating this high in the air."

"Hmm," Villain rumbled, "how about falling?"

For a single terrifying moment, Sidekick felt gravity's effects on them, yanking them back to earth and they gasped, reaching forward and grabbing Villain's leg like their life depended it.

"NO! Nononononononononono, wait! FUCK!" Sidekick cried as their grip on Villain faltered and they slipped. They fell an inch further in the air before they were suspended again, this time with their back to the ground below, staring up at Villain with wide frightened eyes. The only thing keeping them from the hard tarmac below thirteen stories below and being alive.

Villain turned over in the air, rolling onto their stomach and lying like a schoolgirl on their stomach with two hands supporting their head as they grinned down at Sidekick, drinking in their fear.

"You sound just like my favourite hero, Sidekick. I knew letting you fall would loosen your tongue a bit."

Villain was fucking insane, Sidekick realised, their heart still pounding like a rabbits at seeing a hungry dog catch their eye.

"Hero, I’m guessing?" Sidekick said eventually, though their voice still came out higher than it should have.

Villain smiled a fond smile that went to their eyes and lit up their entire face. “Yes. My dear cantankerous hero, so foul-mouthed."

“I met them today," Sidekick said, just trying to keep Villain talking and keep themselves suspended until Hero was able to talk Villain into hopefully letting Sidekick go. Where the fuck were they?

Villain's interest was piqued and they dove slightly towards Sidekick, grabbing Sidekick by the collar of their shirt and sitting on their waist, legs dangling over either side. Somehow, Villain made sure that even flying in the air, Sidekick could still feel the restrictive weight of Villain on top of them.

"And what did you think of them?" Villain asked.

What did Sidekick think of Hero?

"They were... difficult," was the first word that came to mind. Villain grinned and nodded sagely, agreeing with Sidekick as if it was a sacred moment.

“Nothing easy is worth having, Sidekick. Some parting advice.”

“You’re letting me go?”

“Oh yes,” said Villain with a disarming smile. “Quite literally.”

Sidekick didn’t have time to process Villain’s words before Villain shoved Sidekick down below them and wind rushed through their clothes, through their hair, through them as they fell like a comet to earth. This was how they died.

Then their momentum stopped suddenly, and they were swinging into a brick wall, their arm yanked out of its socket and Sidekick cried out in pain. Craning their neck up, they tried glancing up to see Hero above them, leaning half out a broken window, two feet planted on the sill and pulled Sidekick up despite their cries and cursing.

“God, I know. I’m sorry Sidekick. You shouldn’t have been here, god where the fuck is Superhero in all this!” Hero pulled Sidekick in the window and into their chest before stepping back and setting Sidekick down on the window sill.

“Fucking what the fuck?!” Sidekick mewled cradling their arm to their chest.

“I'm sorry, Villain doesn’t usually act like this,” Hero told them.

Sidekick blinked, pain lancing through their shoulder and down into their chest. “What?”

“They don’t usually act this way. First impressions are everything, but I swear there’s good in them.”

Sidekick blinked at Hero, shaking their head. “You’re defending them?!”

“Well, it’s my fault you see. This whole temper tantrum. I haven’t been returning their texts.”

“You haven’t—” Sidekick asked, then blinked and let out an exasperated “what?!”

“Your shoulder—” Hero said. “It’s dislocated.”

“No fucking shit!" Sidekick mewled. "You yanked it out of its socket!”

“Would you rather be a splat on the concrete? Cause I can still push you out the damn window, kid.”

Sidekick walked to the stairwell, fury and pain mixing in their heavy breaths as they braced themselves against the wall. Hero stepped forward a warning on their lips: “kid, I wouldn’t do th—”

It was too late. Sidekick had already thrown themselves against the wall. A resounding pop echoed throughout the stairs, followed by a sharp shriek of pain from Sidekick as they slid down the wall, breathing harshly through gritted teeth.

Hero opened their mouth, but Sidekick just held up a finger from their good arm and wagged it in Hero’s stupid face: “don’t. Say. A thing.”

Sidekick braced themselves against the wall, sliding up it with a groan of pain and rolled their shoulder. Forwards. Backwards. Then they set their furious eyes on Hero and without a word turned and started ascending the stairwell to the roof.

Hero laughed, stunned at the kid’s resilience, and followed them up the stairs. “Do you want some—”

“Just shut the hell up,” Sidekick said, kicking the door to the roof open and looking down pointedly at Hero who was midway through taking a bag of sweets from their pocket. “And go out and do your job.”

“Yes boss,” Hero said with a smile, putting a fizzy lace through their teeth. They emerged onto the roof, arms spread wide and yelled: “Hey! What the fuck are ya doing?” to Villain who was no doubt still floating in the sky, and Sidekick sat down heavy on the steps and took a few deep breaths.

They nearly just died.

Villain almost just killed them.

They would have killed them if not for Hero, and all they wanted to do was cry, but they were too angry.

“Just go out and do your job,” Sidekick chastised themselves, standing and wiping the remnants of tear trails from their cheeks before joining Hero on the roof.

Crying could come later if they lived that long.

*~*~*~*~*

Continued Here

#The Hero and the Infant #THATI #hero villain story #hero villain snippet #hero villain writing #hero villain whump #sidekick whump #sidekick whumpee #sidekick x villain #heroes and villains #writing snippet #hero x villain #villain x hero #hero villain angst #sad hero #alcoholic hero #reluctant hero #neglectful mentor #bad superhero #neglectful superhero #superhero sidekick #sidekick #villain #hero #sidekick hero buddy cop duo #orphan #orphan writing #whump #unhinged villain

[guppydogcity]

deer crossing

#my art #2023 #pokemon #deerling #sawsbuck #digital art #artists on tumblr #ducklett #i realized i only watermark my twitter on my art.. im not sure how to add both without it looking clunky. thatis me though

[fakakta-art]

Jeez, Tim. Boundaries, much?

#dc #batfam #tim drake #jason todd #batfamily #dc comics #my art #my jason todd brainrot is rlly coming out full force now thati can draw digital again #i coped without my art tablet for a week by making the most self serving jason todd playlist ever on spotify #now i have like 30 drawings to do LOL

[callmehere-iwillappear]

thinking abt au crossovers and listen. Listen. theres something about seeing someone who is you but not really. you but just slightly to the left. in a funhouse mirror. if just one thing went differently. this is who you could have been. this is who you never could be. this person understands you better than anyone ever could. this person will never be able to understand you because of how differently things went. and thats not even touching on au crossovers that come from different points in canon. look. this is you a year ago. this is you a year in the future. do you recognize yourself? have you changed too much? can you be the person you needed at that time? do you tell them whats in store for them? can you warn them? would that make things worse? do you say nothing and just hope things will go differently? are things too different already? is that a good thing? is that a bad thing? what can you do to save this version of you? is it already too late? are they a lost cause? are you?

#talk tag #SORRY I WAS. THINKINGA BT THE . LISTNE. LISTEN #i just want to yell abt au crossovers i think abt them sofucking much you dont understand #specifically thinking abt ghost club but also just . in general #OK ALSO re: the diff points in canon #thinking abt one of my ocs #thati wrote this one like . story for #where diff versions of him from diff points in his timeline #met up and shit #and just. 'is it too late to save this version of you' #auwauwuagughghghh

[mordeiswrld]

Why are yall okay with shipping literal SIBLINGS together (yes im talking about The coffinof andy and leyley.) like thats weird as fuck even the Dev is weird like why would you have a fetish about that…and people playing into it makes me fucking SICK they are BIOLOGICAL siblings.

#the coffin of andy and leyley #coffincest #andrew graves #ashley graves #tcoaal #thats disgusting #you need jesus #you need therapy #you need to understand #how weird #thatis

[munchboxart]

Quick comic

#tw alcohol #alcohol #cw alcohol #splatoon #splatoon 3 #salmon run #mui #gilbert #rocker #rocker is the smallfry's name please keep thati n mind munch #my sketches #my comic #munch art

[chungledown-bimothy]

WAIT HANF ON HOLD THE FUCKIGN PHON E

if the pcs are random every show

there's. there's a chance. there's a chance zac pulls lapin.

#dimension 20 #time quangle #time quangle live #dimension 20 live #lapin cadbury #zac oyama #rnjesus abandoned him in the cathedral #this is the chance to make it right #bring back my boy #idc thati won't be able to see him i just. if he's back if only for one night #that'd be enough for me

[kabukeo]

blue art today

#limbus company #lcb #meursault lcb #lcb meursault #outis lcb #lcb outis #my art #kabu art #do i diary entry into these tags #idk ive just been so stuck with art forever #and i realized #as with most things in my life #i have just GOT to stop giving a fuck #so heres art thats imperfect and borign but i had fun making it #art thati usually never wouldve bothered finishing and saving #but i gotta stop thinking about art as #its not worth spending time on if its not going to be notable #bc i think these came out alrgiht and more importantly i finally made art at all #ok thats all have good nights and mornings and afternoons

[nyaskitten]

I think hes Jay :p

#ninjago #ninjago dragons rising #ninjago spoilers #raine's art #yk whats funny? #they reused the legacy ghost torso and head #and yknow who else thaty did that for? harumi #well at least the torso #which means ghoulie here has the same torso drip as harumi #lol

[pastadoughie]

MANAGED TO EEP AND NOT DIE!!! im feeling like so much fuikcin better now u hav no idea

if u have a similar issue with throat dryness and also dont have a humidifier u should run hot bath (hot as u can handle) and like, grab small towel (i mean it doesnt have to be smalle but is easier) and like wet it in the water and u lay, in bath, with the wet towel like over yr nose and mouth n stuff so all thea air ur breathin is nice n like, warm and wet

this n continueing 2 slam the meds they gave me n drink like shitloads of water / milk let me actualley like, be able to sleepfor a whiel woiul reccomen

#i should buy humidifier in future i imagine thaty would help alot moar #the beast speaks #screaming and scampering

[betweenblackberrybranches]

Heyyy ho OC time again!!! With the guys from last time a little later into the story

Containing the fucked up horse: humanoid edition and the young god in disguise

Anyways this is a really rough sketch but those two are such sweethearts, some day i might tell their story...

#my art #my ocs #orange oc #rainbow oc #yay #okay but i am still heartbroken about that piece thati lost to corruption yesterday #i worked like 4 hours on it #and now its gone #:( #but ocs make me feel better so here they are #anyways those two are going on an interdimensional road trip and find friends along the way #there is so much lore

[patchworkorphan]

The Hero and the Infant: Part Three

Read part one here

Continued from here

*~*~*~*~*

Hero threw their arms wide as they strut onto the roof in a gesture of questioning: “hey! What the fuck are ya doing?”

That got Villain’s attention. Violet eyes snapped to theirs, floating a couple metres off the roof. Out of reach for Hero.

“Silent treatment? Really? You just tried to kill a kid, Villain.”

“Superhero’s new sidekick. I did warn them about the mortality rate of such a job before I dropped them,” Villain said with a shrug. Hero looked back over their shoulder at the sound of the roof door opening and Sidekick stepping out, fury winding all of their limbs tight.

“See?” Villain said, getting Hero’s attention again. The Villain’s hand was spread to Sidekick’s appearance. “They’re fine!”

Hero rolled their eyes, scoffing. “Is that supposed to be a justification for attempted murder?”

Hero felt the strong invisible hand wrap around them and yank them up into the air straight into Villain’s awaiting arms.

“Maybe I just don’t like the company they keep,” said Villain, grabbing Hero by the lapels of their duster and pulling them close.

Villain’s nose crinkled up as they said: “you smell like whiskey and cigarettes.”

“It was never a problem before. In fact, I think I remember you enjoying the smell at one point,” said Hero with their dashing smile reserved for only Villain.

“Why are you running around with Superhero’s new scapegoat?”

“Why are you disturbing these good people just trying to do their jobs?” Hero shot back.

“I am a Villain, my dear. It is what we do.”

“And I am a hero, at your every public beck and call. To make sure you don’t do irrevocable damage. Such as killing a child,” Hero admonished and yelped as they felt Villain’s power vanish from under them and they were falling.

Villain held them with one hand over the precipice in their usual showmanship of power. Hero narrowed their eyes and shifted their weight, so they were almost a perfect 45-degree angle to the ground thirteen stories below.

A challenge coated their words as they spread their arms wide, “if you want to kill anyone Villain, do us both a favour and kill me.”

Villain searched Hero’s face for any weakness. Any sign that they were lying and found none. The next thing Hero knows wind is whistling through their ears, stopping only when their back cracks off brickwork and they crumbled to the ground hands catching themselves on the ground, gasping for the air that was wrenched from their lungs.

“Hero!” Sidekick yelled in surprise from the opposite roof.

Hero barely had time to force themselves to stand again before Villain was in front of them, fist bunching in the collar of their shirt. Villain threw a solid left hook. Hero countered, taking the brunt on their forearm before an invisible hand grabbed Hero’s wrist yanking it above their head and keeping it there. Hero’s toes barely scraping the roof below them.

“No fair,” said Hero with a grunt, levelling Villain with a knowing scorn.

Villain’s smile was more of a snarl as they said: “when have I ever played fair?”

Hero threw their other hand out, but Villain caught it and slammed it back against the brick wall, drawing another grunt from Hero. Villain stepped in close, close enough that Hero felt Villain’s breath on their face as those violet eyes peered down at Hero, tightening their grip on Hero’s wrist.

“You look good, Vil,” said Hero softly. “What happened that made you rage against these innocent people today, hmm?”

Villain’s free hand settled on Hero’s cheek and Hero leaned into the touch. “I don’t need a reason.”

“We both know you’re not like that,” Hero said, smiling sadly.

Suddenly Hero was released, and they dropped to their feet, knees bent. Villain was recoiling to the side, hand on their cheek as a once invisible Sidekick became visible again.

“You alright?” Sidekick asked as Hero straightened and nodded.

“Yes. Thank you.”

“You looked like you needed help,” Sidekick said, a little breathless and Hero searched the opposite roof wondering how Sidekick had got there so fast but didn’t question it. They could ask later.

Hero fixed their jacket, rolling their neck as Villain’s gaze turned to face the pair. “I had it handled.”

“Sure, you did,” and Sidekick was invisible again. Villain’s eyes burned like the cold fires of hell down at Hero and Hero shrugged with a smirk.

“Kid’s annoying,” said Hero. “But sure, what can you do?”

“Drop them off a building again. Maybe it will work this time.”

“Probably not,” Hero said with a flash of their teeth. “Not as long as I’m here.”

“Well then perhaps I will force you to watch,” said Villain as they shot their hand out. Hero sucked in a breath and felt the pop in their ears as they reappeared behind Villain. They whistled and Villain turned. Hero threw a punch which Villain caught, clenching their hand down around Hero’s fist and stepping forward, pushing Hero back. “You always did think I relied too much on my power.”

“Eh,” Hero shrugged with tired eyes. “It’s an off day.”

Villain’s eyes narrowed, their tone dipping dangerous as they turned Hero’s arm. “Maybe you should have answered my texts then and we could have arranged this on a non-drinking day for you.”

“Come on, Vil. You know me better,” Hero said with a toothy grin. “They are no non-drinking days.”

Villain pulled Hero in and brought a sharp knee to Hero’s stomach. Hero gasped, as Villain leaned in. “We’ll sober you up yet. Just like our academy days, huh Hero?”

The comment had barely registered when Villain squeezed Hero’s fist with their hand, their force backed by Villain’s unfair power.

“No wait, Villain—” Hero protested just before there was a resounding crack over the roof. Hero screamed bloody murder as Villain kicked them back, and unable to catch themselves, Hero stumbled back and fell, their head hitting off the stone roof. White spots burst behind their vision as Hero shuffled back on their good arm. “Motherfucker!”

Hero looked down at their hand, their index and middle finger bent backwards. A deep purple and black colouring the battered flesh. They had to get off the ground. Hero sucked in a sharp breath closing their eyes. Then a boot came to their chin and Hero cursed as their world rocked and their head hit the ground again.

A headache was already forming, and Hero just wanted to lie on the ground and give up then and there. Then he thought of Sidekick who would no doubt lecture them which would only make their headache worse. A rock and a hard place, headache, or worse headache. Before they could decide, Villain stomped on Hero’s ribs, and Hero’s eyes shot open. Their good hand pushing at Villain’s ankle to alleviate the pressure.

“No popping out if your brain’s clouded with pain, ain’t that right Hero?”

“Normal people just say: I missed you,” Hero hissed, they let out a harsh cough. “They don’t try and kill you.”

“What can I say? I’m not normal people,” said Villain with a smile of their own. Then their hand shot out on instinct and Sidekick reappeared two feet away, gasping on no air. Their hands went to their throat with wide eyes. Hero sat up suddenly, but Villain just put more pressure on their leg keeping Hero pinned. “No. No. Don’t get up. Stay.”

“Let them go, Villain!” Hero cried. Sidekick dropped to their knees, face going purple as they choked on nothing, hands clawing desperately at their throat.

Villain tilted their head at Sidekick’s struggles. Hero reached their hand into their pocket, taking out their lighter. “It’s not every day I don’t kill someone first try. The last, and not to blow my own trumpet, but only time that happened Sidekick was with…” Villain turned back to Hero. “Well, was you, dearest.”

Hero shot their hand out, setting fire to Villain’s trouser leg that was currently weighing on Hero’s ribs. Villain gasped, concentration broken, stepping back and Sidekick sucked in a lungful of air. Hero looked at Villain.

“I’ll be back,” they said to Villain as they lunged for Sidekick’s arm, hand clamping around their wrist. Hero closed their eyes, sucking in a breath.

Then pop.

*~*~*~*~*

#The Hero and the Infant #THATI #THatI #hero villain angst #hero villain story #hero villain whump #hero villain snippet #hero villain writing #hero whumpee #hero whump #sidekick whump #sidekick whumpee #villain whumper #hero x villain #villain x hero #alcoholic hero #poor hero #reluctant hero #hero #sad hero #superhero sidekick #sidekick #villain #hero and villain #powerful villain #smart hero #intelligent hero #intelligent whumper #past whump implied #hero and villain have history

[stormcallart]

i still 100% believe that Enji has PTSD from his fathers death/ the very obvious way citizens put heroes on pedestal to where heroes do not look for help for mental/physical injuries. That if by doing so they are seen as inadequate. The same with All Might who is constantly trying to prove his worth of being able to be useful even in his smaller form, as if he hasn't done enough already and for over 30-40 years. And that by being useful is the only way he is allowed to be shown kindness or love from the people around him.

It doesn't excuse what Enji did to his family- which is still horrible and he deserves to pay for his actions- but adults are allowed to have trauma too even in shonen mangas.

#storm rants #is this a hot take? #maybe #but also having trauma means that as an adult you should be aware of your actions and get HELP #idk im just trying to think of why and how things just went so wrong #and this from my standpoint of an adult is just saying thatI can understand WHY and how it did

[muzzlemouths]

let your heart be light

December is a hard month and you're being worked to the bone. Good thing you have two sentient animatronics waiting at home to do the unthinkable - give you a very merry Christmas.

Sun/Moon centric // Wordcount: 4582 // AO3 Link

“Three cups of flour?”

“Check!”

“A teaspoon of baking powder?”

“Got it!”

“Salt?”

“Only a pinch!”

“A cup of sugar? One egg?” You fold the old recipe between your fingers, “What about–”

“The butter? A full cup, unsalted. The other things too!” Sun sets a flour-coated palm on your head, dusting it with white, “It’s all there, sweetheart. I haven’t missed a thing.” His fingers smooth over your scalp and bring some ease to your temples, this month already wearing you thin, he offers you a calming smile in your great time of distress, “I’ve got everything taken care of, already, so you needn’t fuss for a moment longer. Moon and I can handle things on our own.”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m afraid of,” your breath passes between clenched teeth, a grimace falling into place, but Sun’s shoulders fall - you don’t outright say you don’t trust them, but you might as well have - and you’re quickly backpaddling to make up for it, “you know I’m just nervous,” you admit with another sigh, forcing a smile that does, eventually, turn genuine, “But I’m probably worrying over nothing. We’ve gone over this a hundred times, right?” You carefully take his hand away and instead tuck it between your own, holding it tight, “You’ve got this.”

His posture relaxes, eyes softening, “We’ve got this,” he repeats with a nod, “I promise you can count on us. Now, how about that recipe?”

“Oh, right,” you hand over the folded square with a certain wariness, “don’t forget to preheat the oven first, okay? And the air will be hot when you first open it, so make sure you aren’t standing too close–”

“Sunshine,”

“–right, okay. Sorry. You’ve got this!” You spot the time from across the room and mutter a bit, “Fuck, I should have been out of here ten minutes ago.” Spinning around like a dog after its own tail, you frantically dig into both coat pockets and come up empty.

Sun raises your keys by the ring with a silent grin, “Language,” he reminds you all too smugly, “try not to lose your head on the way, love.”

You sheepishly swipe the keys from him and jam them into your pocket - where they promptly fall straight through to the floor from a hole in the fabric with an eruption of metal tings. “Ugh, I keep forgetting about that.”

You bend at the waist and reach for them. Sun gets there first, and your hands collide, faces dangerously close.

But Sun knows you’re in a hurry. He begrudgingly keeps his hands to himself, instead retrieving the keys and handing them back over to you with a little peck on your temple and a flourish, “I’m surprised you don’t lose things more often with a coat so full of holes,” he muses, “you’re sure we can’t patch it up for you?”

“Thanks, but no thanks,” the keys fall into your other pocket with a whisper, “This is the only one I’ve got, can’t afford to let you have it for that long. Maybe sometime in the spring you can take a wack at what’s left.” Eyes finding the clock again, your teeth sink into your bottom lip, and you steel yourself for the day, “Okay, I really have to go now.”

Sun ushers you out the door with a wave of his hands, “Off you go, then!” He blows you a big, wet kiss. You catch it at the door.

“Okay, um,” Nodding to yourself, you take in the kitchen one last time, committing it to memory in case you return to it looking like something else, “I’ll be back around eight.” Your voice lightens, “Tell Moon I said goodbye!”

He nods, big and eager, and shuts the door behind you.

Then you’re off the porch, heading for what is thankfully your last shift of the week, leaving the two behind with a working oven and absolutely no supervision.

And that’s fine. There’s nothing to stress over. You act completely normal about it the entire day, not worrying at all.

Not even when you receive a suspicious text from Sun immediately after getting to work.

“Do we have lights?”

Your face scrunches as you read the message over again, attempting to determine what he means, when a second text comes in.

“The little kind with all the colors.” Oh.

You settle into a chair behind the desk and write back, “Christmas lights? I might have some shoved in a bin somewhere in the garage.” Then, thinking better of it, you send a second message with it, “I don’t mind if we put them up but I don’t think I have time to do it tonight. Can it wait for tomorrow?”

More than anything, his lack of a response is what scares you most. Silence for ten minutes, then an hour, then four hours. It weighs on you for the entire shift and more than once you have to stop yourself from running to the bathroom so you can sneak in a phone call. That would prove you didn’t trust them - and you don’t want to imply that any more than you already had this morning.

It didn’t mean you weren’t completely riddled with anxiety by the time your shift ended and you found your way home again, half expecting to follow a plume of smoke to your address.

To your utmost relief, there’s no smoke and not even the smell of overbaked cookies to welcome you home. Surprisingly, there’s no lights, either. You had been sure that Sun would have taken matters into his own hands by now, but it appears that, for once, he decided to listen.

Your keys slide into the lock and the handle turns. You brace yourself for the worst, just in case.

“Guys, I’m home!” Pushing your way inside, you instinctively reach for the lightswitch - but stop dead. There’s no need for it.

The inside of your house looks like a Macy’s parade. Lights of every color hang over picture frames and wind around furniture, bringing a dazzling shimmer to the walls, and a shine to the floors, the rooms transformed into something magical.

“You’re home!” Sun peels around the hallway corner with a short string of lights entangled in his own rays, “Is it eight already? I only just finished setting everything up.”

You cross the room, taking in the sights with a wide open gape, “Did you do all of this?” You gasp, “I didn’t even know I owned this many.”

“Do you like it?” He sounds positively giddy and more than a little proud of himself. “I spent all day on it. Wanted to make sure you came home to something nice.”

A smile crosses your lips, “It’s beautiful,” you tell him, “though I’m a little confused - why did you string them up inside?” Your finger points to the door, “Christmas lights normally go on the outside of the house.”

“On the…outside?” Sun’s thumbs twiddle together, smile faltering, “O-Oh, well, seems my quick internet search could have been more thorough. We can take them down–”

“No!” Your hands fly to reassure him, “I like it this way. It feels…closer. More homey.” You empty your keys onto the kitchen counter while shaking the shoes from your feet into their usual corner, and then take a whiff of the air, suddenly growing suspicious, “Huh. I thought the house would smell like cookies when I got back.”

“Ah…” Sun trails off before he even begins, pointer fingers now pressing together in his thumb’s stead, “About that… I never actually got around to making them.”

“What? Why not?”

“I told you, I’ve been doing this–” he gestures all around, “–all day! B-Besides, this way we can decorate them together!””

Your coat is tossed onto the nearest chair. “What about Moon?” You ask, “Couldn’t he have baked them?”

“Moon’s been busy, too.”

“With?”

Sun’s head lolls to the right with a little sideways smile, excitement building in the jittery line down his arms until he can barely contain it, “Well, it’s a little too bright out here for his liking, you know.” He straightens, then, and gestures for you to follow him down the hall, “Come on, I’ll just show you.”

Following him further into your house, the sight that greets you is something a little less traditional than Sun’s attempt at holiday cheer, but still cozy, nonetheless. The very description of the word, in fact.

There is a pillow fort in your livingroom.

A colossal structure, it spans the entire size of the room, reaching half of Sun’s height - and most of yours - and presumably uses every feasibly available blanket and pillow in your entire house.

Curiously, there’s an extension cord leading from the bathroom and tucked between two of your kitchen chairs with a blanket overlapping them. You can’t imagine that Moon would have the same extensive number of lights inside this humble abode, but the idea of him using electricity in there for anything else is beyond you.

Sun bends to reach the ‘door’ and gives it a few hearty taps, the usual sound of a knock lost against the swaths of blanket, “Moon, dear, they’re home!” He calls out, “May we come in?”

“Not yet.” Comes the immediate answer, muffled from inside. He doesn’t bother to grace you with his presence.

Of course, Sun’s face twists at this with a roll of his eyes and a scold just on the brink of escaping, “Come, now, it’s rude to keep us waiting.” His eyes meet you, that gentle smile seeping in beneath his eyes, “He hasn’t even let me inside yet, you know, so this’ll be a surprise for both of us.” Returning his attention to the door again, he gives the blanket a more sturdy knock, and says, “I’m coming in whether you like it or not!”

A minute later, Moon appears at the mouth of the fort. His red optic peers, narrow eyed, through the crack he’s formed by pulling the door aside, “Impatient.” He scolds with a tsk, “Fine, I’m done.” The blanket returns to its place a minute later as Moon recoils into his fort and out of sight. “Don’t get your rays caught on the top.”

The two of you share a look. A laugh bubbles from your throat and catches him off guard, but then Sun is laughing, too, and retracting a couple of his rays in an honest bid to do as Moon asked. He bunches the door away and politely gestures for you to enter first, and you do, tucking yourself at the shoulders before making your way inside with Sun on your tail. The door falls back into place behind him.

Your feet meet carpet - or, rather, a solid pair of blankets acting as such - which soften the floor and keep things cozy. Pillows border the sides with a few being scattered on top of more loose blankets, and a number of your stuffed animals have even made their way inside.

Over your head, lights cling to the ceiling blanket in clean lines of sparkling blue. Paper stars and snowflakes hang in between with the evidence of their creation - a pile of scraps and a pair of scissors - still bunched in his corner of the fort. "Try not to be too impressed," Moon smirks over his shoulder. But his attention is elsewhere, hunched over something that you can't see until you're climbed over to his side. "Wait, is that my laptop?" "No," says Moon, readjusting your laptop, "just let me finish this." "Ohh, did you get it working?" Sun, bowed at the head to properly fit, claps his hands together with excitement, “I sent you the link to my favorite one.” A minute later your screen comes to life with a weak crackle - not your failing battery, for once, but the specific crack of old, burning wood - the image of a cozy fireplace coming into view a moment later.

Your shoulders bounce with a snicker, “That’s clever,” you tell him, “but–” your smile dims as you look at the two, “are you sure? It’s pretty and all, but I don’t want something like this to make you uncomfortable - what with the, um,” you gesture towards the screen, “with the fire, and all that.”

Sun gets himself settled into a cozier position and Moon follows soon after, Sun with his legs crisscrossed, hands in his lap, and Moon slumped lazily against a mound of pillows with one of your blankets tossed haphazardly around his shoulders.

They share a look, but it’s Sun who speaks up first.

“We’re sure, sunbite,” he reassures, “Moon and I talked it out beforehand. It’s not so scary like this - being just a screen - and if it becomes too much we can always turn it off.”

“Besides,” Moon cuts in with a lazy hand wave, “We’re not doing it just for you. Sun wanted to try out the traditions and this just happened to be one of them.”

“Hey! Don’t give all of my secrets away.”

You blink, all the puzzle pieces clicking into place, “Wait, is that why you were asking about the lights?”

Sun gives you a hearty nod, “Righto!”

“And the snowflakes, too? Does that mean you have–”

“Presents?” Moon finishes for you.

“That’s right!” Sun answers.

They exchange a grin with each other. “It was Sun’s idea,” Moon admits.

“But I only thought of it this morning, after you left for work–”

“We were a little pressed for time.”

“So don’t expect anything big!” Sun winks at you and shifts onto his knees, then half-walks, half-crawls past where you’re sitting, “I’ll go and get them,” he squeals, giddy like – well, like a kid on Christmas — “Moon, can you get the music?”

“I thought we agreed you would do that?” he grumbles.

“Well, now I’m getting the presents, so you’ll have to put Mr. Pout away and find Mr. Happy Holiday Cheer, instead.”

Your hands fly up, “Wait, wait,” Sun disappears out of the fort a minute later, so your attention turns to Moon, who’s already (begrudgingly) fiddling with something in his system, “It’s sweet that you two got me presents - I mean, it really wasn’t necessary, you know that, right?”

“Sun insisted.” Moon shrugs.

“I’ll thank him for it later, however” you pause, attempting to go about this question delicately, “how, exactly, did you get me a gift? I’ve been stuck at work all day.”

Moon doesn’t answer immediately. He avoids your eye and tucks the blanket closer to his shoulders as a way to fill the silence, knowing you’ll figure it out on your own if he only gives you a minute. And you do. It takes thirty-two seconds for it to dawn on you.

“You–” Gasping, your eyebrows scrunch together, “you snuck out, didn’t you? What did I tell you two about leaving the house on your own?” Your exasperation is justified, you think - it would take all of a minute for a company like Fazbears to retrieve their state of the art equipment if they were spotted out in the wild.

“Don’t lecture us,” Moon rolls his eyes, “He wore a disguise the whole time and was only gone for half an hour. Popped into a convenience store and was back here before anyone noticed a thing out of place.”

“He– ” The strain in your voice goes from annoyance to straight panic and you clutch at your head, eyes wide with disbelief, “He went alone?”

Sun’s head pokes through the entrance a second later. “I took the time to get those cookies in the oven, so they’ll be done in just a few minutes now!”

There’s presumably only one gift in his hand; a medium sized box, wrapped in blue christmas paper and folded neatly at the corners, the bow on top small but beautifully pearlescent. His smile disappears (along with his rays - sucked in the second he lays eyes on you) when he enters the fort to the sight of your eyebrow twitching. Immediately, he turns on the other, “Ah, shnookerdookies, Moon! You weren’t supposed to tell them I snuck out!”

“I didn’t,” Moon answers somewhat honestly, hands up in a show of peace, “and they would have found out eventually.”

You exhale with a pinch to the bridge of your nose, wishing and hoping - praying, at this point - that the two of them would stop giving you heart attacks on the daily. “Sun, what would make you think it was a good idea to sneak out? And beyond that - to do it alone!”

“Well… I really wanted to get you something.” Sun again sits down across from you and begins to tap - the pointer finger on both hands - against the wrapped box in his lap, a pingpong of sound from one finger to the other. You learned not too long ago that it’s calculated, this nervous habit of his, not just brainless noise. Less of a need to fill the silence and more of a way to get his feelings out without the exposure - like swearing in a language the listener couldn’t understand.

You could understand it, was the thing - had been extensively training yourself to, actually, not that you’d had a chance to tell them yet - and you count out the zeros and ones he imitates with each tap like you’re lipreading.

“And,” he continues, “I didn’t know how to ask you for a drive to the store without telling you why.” 1100111 1110101 1101001 1101100 1110100 1111001 “I didn’t go far though, pinky swear!”

Your shoulders deflate some as the letters count themselves out. Sighing, you try not to sound too angry with him. Because you’re not - angry, that is - you’re just scared.

These boys meant the world to you. It would be crushing if you lost them over something as trivial as a present. It’s obvious, however, that Sun doesn’t view it that way. The present is important to him. And he is incredibly important to you. So that meant, of course, that you would be lenient.

“Why didn’t Moon go with you?” You gesture for him. Moon is back to cutting stars out of paper, and he barely spares a glance towards the conversation.

Sun’s rays droop with a more dramatic flavor this time, and when he speaks it’s with a whine, “He already had a gift ready for you,” - this, of course, has Moon freezing in place - “but I wanted to get you something, too!” 1101110 1100101 1110010 1110110 1101111 1110101 1110011 ”I think you’ll really like it. I - I hope you do, at least. But it’s okay if you don’t!“

His behavior - that is, the heat on his cheeks and subtle spin of his rays - leads you to believe it’s not something easy or practical.

You could take a deep dive on what all that suggested, but right now your focus is glued to Moon, who is practically hidden behind his knees with how far he’s slumped into the pillows. A wolfish smile crosses your face. “Moon, you had a present for me this whole time?” You coo, “Why didn’t you say anything?”

He shoots Sun a glower - it’s received with a knowing smirk, taps falling silent - and he tosses a paper star into your lap, “Don’t get a big head about it,” Moon huffs, “I made it in my spare time. It just so happens that I finished it this month.”

“Wait,” your expression turns from smug to soft in an instant, “you made it?”

His eyes grow like saucers and he freezes, attempting to backpaddle, “It’s not important,” he’s quick to say, looking back to Sun, “Why don’t we talk about Sun’s present instead?”

Snorting, his counterpart shakes his head with an all too warm smile, “Ohhh, no, buddy, we’ll have plenty of time to talk about my present afterwards. Why don’t we have them open yours first?”

A noise crackles from Moon’s chestplate - static, then a melody, the lyrics to ‘You're a Mean One, Mr Grinch’ tuning in soon after - all three heads turn to look in its direction. Evidently, his music has decided to interject at the funniest possible time.

You roar with laughter - Sun loses himself in a fit of giggles, too, and it isn’t long before Moon is joining in with an undeniable snicker. It feels a little ridiculous. Here you are on Christmas eve, in a pillow fort of all things, laughing under blinking lights as these two rile each other up. “Okay, enough teasing,” you say through the laughter, “hand over the present already. I’ll open that one first.”

Sun gently slides it across to you, still lost in his laughter but clearly excited for this moment to happen. Moon, on the other hand, has already returned to silence and looks ready to bury himself beneath a pile of blankets.

Plucking away the bow, you gingerly pull apart the wrapping paper and then spring the box’s lid open with a vocal pop. Your hand digs through a mountain of tissue paper before finding the treasure hidden inside and drawing it into the light.

It unfolds piece by piece to reveal a granny square sweater - knitted by hand - each square a different color on an expanse of dark blue. The yarn is soft between your fingers, its weight comforting. Your arms fall only enough to look at him behind the gift. “You…you really made this?”

Moon won’t look at you, but you can see the color spreading across his cheeks from here. He rests his chin into the palm of his hand and decisively looks anywhere but in your direction. “Maybe.” he grunts, “You can toss it out if you don’t–”

“No!” You clutch the item close to your chest, flattening it against your heart, “It’s beautiful, Moon.” Already, you’re swinging it over your shoulders and slipping your arms into the sleeves, “I love it, I really do. I can’t believe you would go out of your way to–”

“Just in my spare time,” Moon remains you - at least now, he’s looking your way again.

“Right,” you smile, “Well, either way, I’m really grateful.”

He shifts, looking briefly unsure, then a small grin sneaks into his expression, “Your old one’s gone to shit,” he says, “It hardly keeps you warm anymore. So - maybe you’ll finally be able to toss it out.”

Nodding, your smile only widens, “I’ll be sad to see it go, but you’re right. Besides,” you give yourself a squeeze, feeling the warmth of the yarn hug back, “I think this one will be a wonderful replacement.”

His eyes soften, smile warming, and he makes a noise like there’s more to be said but then falls silent eyes suddenly shifting to the other side of the room. The fond look on his face turns into a sneer. “Your turn.” he coos at Sun, who - for all intents and purposes - looks twice as nervous now.

“A-Already?” He asks, fumbling over himself, “Maybe we could wait until after the cookies–”

Your hand reaches for him, fingers winding between his own, “Sunny, I’m going to love it no matter what,” you assure him, “I promise. Now, let’s see that gift!”

Sun lets out a whiiiiiiine, long and procrastinating, then finally he relents. His spare hand dips into the pocket of his apron (still caked with flour, mind you) and draws from it a small plastic bag with santa and his reindeer printed across the front. “They said paper wrapping might damage it,” he sighs, “but they gave me the bag for free! It’s–” His fingers pinch together beneath the bag handles, eyes flickering between his knees and you, “–well, I just hope you like it.”

“I told you already, didn’t I?” You take the bag and settle it into your lap, one hand to steady it while the other dips inside. It’s featherlight - and you think, for a moment, that maybe it’s a practical joke and he’s wrapped up air - but then you feel it. “I’m going to love anything you give m–” Leaves. A ribbon.

You pull mistletoe from the bag.

Looking up with a start, you find both of them looking in opposite directions, “I–”

“We don’t have to do anything with it,” Swiftly, Sun assures you, “We can just throw it in the trash! I – we will understand.”

Your heart thunders like a persistent drum against your chest, all at once, your cheeks and all the way up to your ears feel flush with heat, and your hand curls sweetly around the small plant in response, “I was just going to say,” their eyes snap to meet you, looking hopeful and worried at the same time, “that if you wanted a kiss that bad you could have just asked for one.”

There’s a pause, a moment of quiet where you’re sure their systems are buffering. Then, suddenly, Sun leaps from his seat and practically scrambles over your crossed legs, swiping the mistletoe in a heartbeat, it’s barely above your heads before he melts against your lips.

You fold under his warmth and give into it, tasting sugar. Sun pulls away only to crane his neck in another direction and plant a kiss there, too - the space beside your mouth, then another to your cheek, and another, still, at your jawline, touches that pepper down your throat with unyielding fondness until you are quite literally swept away –

into the arms of Moon, who sits where you were a minute ago and tucks you into his lap, arms wrapping around yours, he makes an impatient noise against your ear before dipping his head low and going about your skin himself - a kiss to the cheek and the cusp of your ear, one to your temple - then he wraps a firm hand beneath your chin and tilts it to meet him, discovering the warmth of your lips.

Sun’s hands replace his a minute later, the warmth in them drawing you out of the haze they’ve caused, he’s already closed the distance and shows no intention of stopping.

“Guys–” you gasp, breathless, finding yourself pulled back into soft laughter, you feel paper-light and happier than any holiday card could ever make you feel, “Hey, st– come on,” another laugh escapes you, “you can’t tag-team me like this, that’s not fair–”

But Sun finds the space beneath your chin and Moon dips himself against the back of your neck, embracing you in perfect tandem, and the sensation lights you up like a christmas tree. Engulfed in endearment, every kiss, every eager caress sends a warm shiver down your spine.

Then an alarm blares from outside the fort - the screech of an oven - and Sun shoots up so fast his ray nearly rips a hole in the ceiling. “The cookies!” He scurries from the fort with a shrill of panic.

Moon’s own enthusiasm doesn’t come to a stop all together, but he slows, allowing you a breather to the distant sounds of Sun fussing over and arguing with the oven. He gingerly tucks away the sleeve of your sweater and slips a kiss to your bare shoulder, then sets his chin against it, looking up at you with a smile. Shimmering blue lights reflect in his eyes like stars in the sky. “Having fun?” he asks.

“Very much so,” sighing somewhat wistfully, you allow your full weight to relax against him, “you’re both big saps, you know.”

“Mh,” his arms hug tighter around you, hands pressing wordlessly into yours, “Merry Christmas,“ he murmurs, ”our dearest star.“

#drabbles #sundrop #moondrop #fnaf sun #fnaf moon #sun x reader #moon x reader #HOPE Y'ALL ENJOY #HAPPY HOLIDAYS MERRY CHRISTMAS ETC ETC #okay now thati ts posted i'm just gonna- [fuicing passes out]/

[perelka-l]

it’s butsuma birthday so i did a fast doodle of mama bear butsuma ;w;

#senju butsuma #senju hashirama #i just wanted to dro disheveled butsuma covered in blood so there is thati could do more but its late and im sleepyyy #watch me and my fail art #the fire rises to meet us #happy birth for dilf

[matbaynton]

thomas thorne if you’re reading this i am free on thursday night and would like to throttle you. if you would like me to throttle you i am free on thursday night when i am free to throttle you. i am free to throttle you on thursday night so if you want me to throttle you on thursday night i am free

#again thatis thursday night i amfr ee on thursday to throttlte you #actualyly i lied any ngiyhtworks for me #* #thomas thorne #bbc ghosts