Mythoses

😛

[myth-oses]

I read a fic that made me think the premise was going to be something completely different and now I can’t stop thinking about it 😭

Clark gets forced onto the Daily Planet gossip/society column and has to spend two weeks reporting on Bruce Wayne’s social life.

At first he’s just incredibly annoyed because why is this man at another gala??

But then he starts realizing Bruce sleeps like three hours a night, lives off champagne, has seventeen events a week, and somehow still runs Wayne Enterprises.

Instead of deciding Bruce is insufferable, Clark decides Bruce desperately needs someone to sort his life out.

Bruce, meanwhile, thinks Clark is flirting with him because why else would this gorgeous reporter keep bringing him water bottles, healthy snacks, and asking if he’s had enough sleep?

I NEED someone to write Clark Kent accidentally trying to save Bruce Wayne from burnout while Bruce falls head over heels because he thinks this is the weirdest courtship ever. 😭

Identity shenanigans are encouraged.

Summary be like: Clark would never, ever, never hate someone, but after being tasked (forced) to write the Daily Planet gossip column for the past two weeks, he can say with complete confidence that he hates Bruce Wayne and his lifestyle. And, in true Clark fashion, he’s on a mission to turn his life around.

[hazzymayy]

Rahhh happy new year!!

[ra1nydayss]

IT'S DONE!!

not exactly what i had in mind when starting this piece but i got carried away while messing around with blending modes and lighting and this came out, but i love it

[ciricearts]

finally finished this wip!!

[underscorecip]

Fantastic Four x F1: "Johnny Storm and boyfriend seen entering the paddock. It seems the team's photographer will be off duty today.”

[disastertwins9000]

yk who’s not okay? me. bc of this au. @luciaintheskyainthi fuck u (not rly ily)

[disastertwins9000]

they are carrying me through this art block istg

wip for my favorite spideyhood fic that recently updated (yk who u r and ily)

[srichitr]

[harricite]

in my tomarry eraaa

[mishtiiikrishnaaa]

i think this would complement the fic 'Fate's Favourite' by thefictionist very well :)

[sentinel04]

[madamenyxillustrations]

@luciaintheskyainthi "The anger was immediate and blinding. “You think this is a fucking game? You fucking hypocrite!” Jason snarled and hauled Peter up by the front of his hoodie. Peter let him, still trapped in that dreamy state. He wanted to shake Peter’s shoulders until reality rattled back into him. “You get up me just for breaking some asshole’s leg, and then you pull shit like that? You’re a fucking meta! The fuck you think woulda happened if you’d aimed for the head?”

“I would have killed him.” Peter almost absent-mindedly grabbed Jason’s forearms to support himself, the hoodie big enough he could have slipped straight out. The compliance only fuelled Jason’s anger."

Fandom: DC/Marvel Characters: Jason Todd, Peter Parker Fic: Existential Crisis Mode Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55345306/chapters/140413300

[jejejijiju]

[ciricearts]

some jasons i did from some twt references (THANK U RHYS<3)

[hazzymayy]

Oop🫢

[chimchiri]

uwu-man

[mother-of-all-monsters]

I want a fic, where Harry Potter’s Boggart is Vernon Dursley, not a Dementor, not Voldemort, but his large, and loud Uncle, screaming at him, grabbing him by his collar and hissing Freak into his face, right in front of the classroom, right in front of Remus J. Lupin. 

His father’s best mate and werewolf.

[musebunny]

Whoops my hand slipped…

As the boggart morphed and shifted with each child’s fear, one child struggled to realize the shape his would take. At first, Harry’s mind conjured an image of Lord Voldemort before disregarding the idea. Perhaps it was arrogant of him, or the mere fact that he’d already faced him twice and come out on top but Harry didn’t fear him. The boggart appeared before Ron Weasley and transformed into a gigantic spider, prowling on the class before losing its legs and barreling forward—

To land at Harry’s feet. His grip tightened on his wand. Maybe it would turn into Lord Voldemort after all. Or maybe one of those Dementors—he could consider the dread he felt for those figures fear, but how to make it comical?

And then the boggart changed, it grew large—larger than the spider, a towering hulking figure, the familiar face contorting with purple rage. It was impossible—and yet—yet—the giant beefy man before him with his thick mustache and malicious blue eyes—here was no mistaking it.

“YOU UNGRATEFUL FREAK!” roared the monstrous Uncle Vernon, and just like that all the excitement borne from fears turned comedic vanished into horrified silence. Harry had taken a fast step back before he realized what he was doing. And then his Uncle was bearing down on him like angry wolf-hound, his thunderous steps rattling the entirety of the room.

“YOU WAIT UNTIL I GET MY HANDS ON YOU BOY! YOU WON’T BE ABLE TO SIT FOR A WEEK! NEVER SHOULD’VE TAKEN YOU IN. YOU’VE BEEN NOTHING BUT A BLIGHT ON THIS FAMILY–YOU’RE NOTHING BUT A FREAK AND THEY’RE GOING TO FIND OUT–MARK MY WORDS!”

Uncle Vernon raised his arm and Harry, voice shaking shouted, “Ridikulous!” but with nothing pictured in his mind’s eye except a numbing sense of panic the Boggart twisted and shrieked, and suddenly Aunt Petunia’s blonde head was poking out of Uncle Vernon’s shoulder. She twisted and ripped her flesh forward, until her entire torso was sprouted from Uncle Vernon like a limb on a mangled tree.

“YOU’RE A FREAK EVEN AMONG FREAKS,” she screamed at him, “YOU SHOULD’VE DIED WITH YOUR PARENTS! NOT EVEN WORTH LOCKING IN A CUPBOARD! I SHOULD’VE TOSSED YOU IN THE BIN THE MOMENT I SAW YOU ON OUR DOORSTEP!”

And then the creature morphed back into Uncle Vernon, the real one, the one that Harry had seen less than a month ago in his best dinner jacket and a murderous gleam in his eyes.  “YOU CAN’T USE MAGIC OUTSIDE OF SCHOOL!” he bellowed, and as he rushed toward him Harry forgot he was at school.

“No—I didn’t mean—Uncle please—” Harry stammered, wand forgotten as he attempted to shield himself  with his arm, and backed up–crashing into someone behind him.

“RIDIKULOUS!” someone shouted and suddenly Vernon was gone.

It took a moment for Harry to realize what had happened, and when he did–he couldn’t breathe. His eyes found Hermione, Ron, Professor Lupin, even Draco—the look in their eyes was beyond shock. Hermione had tears rolling down her face, and felt the world start to spin. “I need to—” he started, and then he couldn’t finish, not without air.

“Harry,” came Ron’s voice—what a sound, like he’d just come across a dying dog yelping for death. He went to put a hand on Harry’s shoulder and Harry flinched away, wheezing.

“No—” he said, “Don’t—” he shook his head, trying to clear his vision. And then he was running for the door.

[musebunny]

Gryffindors seldom loitered about the dungeons, so when Snape saw Harry Potter slip into one of the unused potions classrooms—especially when he had it on good authority that the boy had Defense at this time—Snape grew suspicious at once. He reached the door before it swung shut.

“Potter! What are you doing in here?” he snarled, his words freezing the boy in his tracks. Slowly, Potter turned around. The moment his eyes fell on Snape all the color drained from his face. His bottle-green eyes went wide, a horrified realization spreading across his features.

“No—” Potter breathed, his voice hoarse. His hand went to the desk as if for support. “You can’t—you’re going to find out,” he went on, no longer looking at him.

“What are you on about, Potter?” Snape cut across losing his temper. “And why aren’t you in class? Professor Lupin might cater to your every whim but I certainly will not. Five points—” a wheeze brought his words to an abrupt halt.

It was clear that Potter hadn’t heard a word he’d said. He was gasping for breath, limbs visibly shaking. Snape only just managed to step forward to catch him by the elbow as Potter’s knees gave way and eased him to the ground. That at least got the boy to look at him again, but his gaze was panicked.

“I can’t—breathe,” Potter choked out, still shaking. His hand went to his heart, and Snape was shocked to see tears welling in Potter’s eyes. There was no mistaking it. Harry Potter was having a panic attack. Snape withdrew a vial of light blue liquid and uncorked it.

“Drink,” he said, lifting the bottle to Potter’s lips. The boy didn’t even argue—for once—and instead choked it back with fumbling fingers. After another minute during which Snape re-pocketed the empty vial, Potter’s breathing eased and he buried his face in his hands.

“It seems Lupin is more incompetent than I thought,” Snape sneered. “Tell me did he at least tell you the incantation before allowing the Dark Lord to materialize before you? He’s an absolute disgrace to—”

Potter gave a rattled sob and shook his head, mumbling something.

“What was that?”

Potter lifted his head, furiously wiping at his eyes. “I wish it’d been Voldemort.”

“Don’t say his name,” Snape said automatically, though he had to confess his interest peaked. He waited for Potter to continue and after several rattled gulps Potter shrugged.

“You’re going to find out anyway,” he whispered, closing his eyes as though preparing himself. “I haven’t even—he hadn’t even—he’s not my—” Potter ran his hands through his hair, his eyes flying open to stare at his knees. “It, the boggart, turned into my Uncle.”

A cold sinking sensation settled in Snape’s bones, like a silver knife flaying skin. The smirk vanished, replaced by a careful impassive mask. “Your Uncle?” he repeated, only the dark slow tremor of his voice betraying the swell of emotion he suddenly felt.

Potter looked up at him, and nodded. He bit his lip to stop it from quivering. And then he buried his face in his hands. “Everyone heard him—everyone knows I’m—I’m—” Snape saw Potter’s fingers white-knuckle through his black hair. And then so quietly, that Snape almost missed it—

“I’m a freak.”

And Snape saw scarlet. It didn’t take much to lift the boy and lead him back to his office where he fixed a large cup of tea and put it in Potter’s hand with the order to stay put, before sweeping down the halls to the staff room.

One look told him that there was more to this story—he’d never seen a class so subdued. Lupin seemed to be in the middle of giving a lecture on discretion, damage control, Snape thought bitterly.

The moment Lupin saw him the blasted werewolf grimaced. “Class dismissed,” he said, and the class filtered out, silent, avoiding eyes.

“Severus,” Lupin began somewhat offhandedly, “I’m afraid I need to run, can this wait—”

“Harry Potter is currently in my office enjoying a calming tea,” Snape said and Lupin stared at him. “I found him having a full-blown panic attack in one of my classrooms.”

Lupin went white, hands balling into fists. It took him a long second to compose himself enough to speak. “We need to speak to the Headmaster, immediately, Severus—you don’t know—what it said to him.”’

“By all means, lead the way,” Snape sneered, though inside he was boiling. His fingers itched to clasp his wand and curse the nearest thing into oblivion. As they rushed to the Headmaster’s office, he kept telling himself that everyone was blowing this out of proportion. Potter was spoiled brat who’d gotten his feelings hurt, hadn’t been able to hack a simple Boggart. Lupin was coddling his friend’s son—everyone was thinking too much and then it came back to him.

“I’m a freak.”

[musebunny]

Because I just need all the angst today apparently

He wasn’t supposed—that couldn’t be his greatest—he was not scared of Uncle Vernon. Harry tore down the corridor, not paying attention to where he was going. All he could see was the Boggart and the broken expressions of his friends, flashing before his eyes like a mirage. Ron and his brothers had suspected something was amiss ever since second year, but Harry had never told him or anyone what really went on in that house.

But really, it was just embarrassing more than anything. Had that been his fear? Embarrassed that everyone would find out how unspoiled he was. Yes, that was it. He wasn’t actually scared of Uncle Vernon. That was—Harry scoffed to himself. Now he just needed to compose himself enough to face his friends when they asked him about it. And everyone else in that class. And maybe the whole school.

Harry slipped through a door and only just realized where he was, one of the unused potions classrooms. He took a deep shuddering breath, trying to knock himself out of it. He could handle it, the weird looks, the questions, it’d be just like last year with the Chamber of Secrets but instead everyone would be concerned for him. And besides, if a Boggart was supposed to be his worst fear… it’s just what he imagines it to be. No one would think—how could they know—

That Harry had heard those words before.

“Potter! What are you doing in here?”

Harry froze. Slowly he turned around, and when his gaze fell on Snape all his rationalizations fell away. “No—” he breathed, his voice hoarse. His hand went to the desk suddenly unable to stand without support. “You can’t—you’re going to find out,” he went on. If there was anyone in this entire School—Dumbledore had left him there so he obviously knew, McGonagall would probably fret and worry about him but Snape—Malfoy would surely tell him and all the Slytherins. He could just hear their voices in his ears.

“Hey Freak, scared of a fucking muggle? Maybe you should’ve really died with your parents. So much for Saint Potter, adored by all. You’ve known all along that you’re nothing but a waste of space.”

He couldn’t breathe. Air danced just out of reach of his lungs, his vision swam oddly before him – focusing in and out on Snape. He felt so light-headed—and then he felt a grip on his elbow as his knees buckled. When had Snape moved? He turned his attention to the professor as he sunk to the ground, gaping like a fish. “I can’t—breathe,” he choked out. What was wrong with him? His heart felt ready to burst from his chest. He clamped his hand over it, willing it to slow—

Make no noise and pretend I’m not there.

No. Don’t think about that. Don’t. If you make too much noise it’ll be worse. There were not tears burning in his eyes—he saw a vial of some light blue potion pushed to his lips and he drank it greedily. His hands were shaking—what was wrong with him? After a moment he felt a sense of calm wash over him, he could draw breath again.

And Harry buried his face in his hands. He had just gone to pieces in front of Snape. He heard the Professor clear his throat.

“It seems Lupin is more incompetent than I thought,” Snape sneered. “Tell me did he at least tell you the incantation before allowing the Dark Lord to materialize before you? He’s an absolute disgrace to—”

Harry wanted to scoff, “Yeah, I wish,” but it didn’t come out that way. Oh god, was he crying? He needed to pull it together.

“What was that?”

Harry swallowed tried to hide the wetness about his eyes. “I wish it’d been Voldemort,” he whispered, unable to meet Snape’s gaze.

“Don’t say his name,” Snape said automatically, but he didn’t sound as angry as he usually did. Maybe that was why Harry went on.

“You’re going to find out anyway,” he whispered, closing his eyes. It was easier to say this in the dark where he could pretend he was alone. “I haven’t even—he hadn’t even—he’s not my—” Harry ran his fingers through his hair, feeling an odd impulse to pull out the strands. Why was this so hard? He couldn’t say it. He opened his eyes again, staring at his knees. “It, the boggart, turned into my Uncle.”

“Your Uncle?” came Snape’s voice, low and wrought with fury. It jolted Harry to look at him, but the Potion Master’s face was flat, unfathomable. He didn’t look mad at Harry. Slowly, Harry nodded. His lip quivered and he bit down. The soft taste of blood knocking against his teeth steadied him. But not enough to maintain eye contact.

He hid his face in his hands. “Everyone heard him—everyone knows I’m—I’m—” He wanted to rip the skin off his bones and run. Tear the words out of his throat like pulling teeth from his jaw. He heard the words; screaming in his ears—and then he moved his lips to utter them himself.

“I’m a freak.”

He waited for Snape to agree—to tell him he’d known all along, or even to berate him for being so ridiculous. What he didn’t expect was for the professor to help him to his feet and make him a cup of tea. He stared at the mug, and then looked up in time to see the door close behind those billowing black robes.

His fingers quivered and he held the mug tighter. What was going to happen now?

[ten9th]

some more doodles of them :)