#brotherly stuff

[highly--distractible]

“WHAT DO YOU WISH FOR?”

Something I did a while ago. I love different headcanons about how the skelebros grew up.

-

I do not own Undertale or its charaters.

I am the owner of this piece of art so don’t repost without asking or without credit.

[granddaughterogg]

Death: *immensely irritated* Have you ever had a moment in your life when you just thought to yourself: "I'll better keep those words in my mouth"?

Strife: Huh? Yeah. Every time I see what you're wearing.

[elyslesnothing]

I was watching a Game Grumps episode recently of them playing Monopoly and the amount of hilarity, betrayal and bargaining happening had me thinking what the Horsemen would be like trying to play a simple game of Monopoly. Assuming the rules and goal of the game was explained to them beforehand. What do you think? =D

Hoo boy, I'm already cackling

- Death is the banker. The vote is basically unanimous, as none of the other three are willing to trust someone else to take on the responsibility, and plus, he was the one who taught them math when they were kids (through many screams and smashed walls). He splits the money with broad, visual gestures and shows the numbers to his siblings with an exasperated glare, before he can get yelled at with unnecessary accusations. The other three submit, however grudgingly, that he split it all fairly. So far, so good.

- it ended pretty quickly when it came to the topic on who's going first. Several death threats later, they go in the order of their Horsemen ranks.

- the second hint that everything is about to go to hell in a handbasket is when War grabs the red horse piece. Strife pulls out Redemption and points it at War's forehead.

"Back off, bro," he growled. "I chose the toy horse first."

War stands up, ready for a brawl. Fury takes out Scorn, already smirking at the thought. Death however jumps between them, managing to subdue the conflict only to screaming and finger pointing. Strife gets the toy horse simply because he already started shooting at random thanks to his trigger-like characteristic hyperactive anger. War gets the thimble.

- when Fury lands on an unmortgaged property of War's and she needs to pay rent. Obviously, she refuses. The rules are re-read. Strife gets involved too to say that she DOES have to pay. That only pisses her off more.

- she pays up, but they're all cranky.

- Death lands on a Chance Card and he wins second place in a beauty contest. The other three start laughing. For that, Death increases tax. He does that without checking the rules, saying he's perfectly entitled to do it since he's the leader of the Horsemen.

- War takes out his sword, saying he has no honor.

- Death punches him in the face and dares to others to try and test his leadership.

- they don't, but they keep sending Death murderous glares (War through a mass of blood that's his broken nose).

- Death lands in jail and claims the other still need to pay him rent. Another fight takes place about whether that's legitimate or not, in which everyone's personal honor, physical features, skin color, hairstyle, hair color, hygiene, fighting style and scars is insulted at least once.

- they all take a break to go calm down before they turn into their Forms.

- they forgot whose turn it was when they come back.

- twenty seconds later, they're all strangling each other in their Forms.

- they need at least 200 years of solo missions before they can face each other again.

[elyslesnothing]

Darksiders Headcanon

Let's be honest - during those times Death is missing for entire centuries, skipping his bidding to the Council (little rebel), War is the only one who's searching for him, to not many results.

[elyslesnothing]

The real reason War is Death's favorite sibling

Death: - needs a pat -

War: - appears -

Death: - hisses -

War: - pats him anyway -

[renecdote]

“It sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself.“ Damian and Jason (about Tim?)

Here you go Anon! Sorry if it’s not exactly what you were looking for - I set out to write a short angsty piece about Damian feeling guilty about how he’d treated Tim but Bruce got there before me and then Damian ended up hiding under a table and it all went downhill from there. But I hope you get some enjoyment form it anyway :)

Mixing up / ignoring comic timeline is almost a hobby of mine, but this one actually had some contextual thought behind it. Not much but. Basically set sometime after Bruce comes back from the “dead” but no more specific than that…

–

Damian isn’t hiding, but he could see how it may look that way to someone else. Alfred the cat had fled under the dining room table when the yelling started earlier and when he hadn’t been able to coax him out, Damian had crawled under the table as well. Titus had followed him, sniffing at the carpet and knocking into chair legs with his tail before settling down with a huff. It had seemed much easier to just stay there than try to move both his pets.

Dick and Alfred have both walked past - looking for him, maybe, or more likely just going about their day - but nobody has actually come in yet. Father might have thought to look here, but he doubts Father will search for him. Not while he’s still mad, at least. 

“Hey Alfred!” a voice calls from the direction of the front door. The butler’s reply is muffled by distance and then the voices die off as the conversation moves into one of the Manor’s many rooms - probably the kitchen. Damian wonders who it could be; most visitors come via the cave.

He gets his answer a minute later when light footsteps precede the appearance of two socked feet and a pair of jeans in his vision. Todd is muttering to himself as he walks around the dining table then kneels down to start looking under it. The muttering stops when their eyes meet and Damian lifts his chin defiantly, daring the older boy to make fun of him. But all Todd says is, “Have you seen a pair of sunglasses under here?”

Damian glances at the floor around him and shakes his head. “No.”

“Dammit,” Todd mutters, standing up and almost banging his head on the table. 

“Must be in the kitchen…”

He leaves and Damian let’s out a sigh of relief, relaxing back against Titus’s flank. But it’s short-lived because a moment later Todd comes back in and sets something down on the table before crouching back down.

“You wanna come out?” he asks.

“No.”

“Okay.” His upper body vanishes upward again and when he comes back down he’s holding two mugs. He holds one out. “You want tea?”

Damian hesitates before nodding, reaching out to take the warm mug and cradling it to his chest. Even with the body heat from his pets, it’s remarkably cool under the table. He blows on the hot liquid then takes a cautious sip as Todd sits cross-legged opposite him with his back against the nearest table leg.

“So why are you hiding under a table?” he asks eventually, conversational in a way that grates on Damian’s nerves.

“I’m not hiding,” he snaps.

“Uh-huh. It sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself of that.“

“I’m not,” Damian insists. “Alfred wouldn’t come out. I had to come under here to get him.”

Todd looks pointedly at where the cat is now curled up in Damian’s lap, purring softly as he’s petted. “Right. And was it loud noises that drove Alfred under the table?”

Damian narrows his eyes. Todd takes a casual sip of his tea. And he knows. He knows exactly why Alfred ran under the table and why Damian is under the table and he just wants him to say it. Well he’s not going to. Damian grits his teeth and glares.

Todd just shrugs. “Suit yourself. I’ll just tell you what the official version is then, shall I?”

It’s blatant manipulation and Damian will not be swayed by it.

“So I was leaving my apartment this morning when I realised I couldn’t find my sunglasses anywhere. I had tea with Alfred yesterday so this is the only other place I could think they might be. And when I arrive, I find out that you and Bruce got into a screaming match this morning which ended with a broken chair and two smashed vases.” He takes a sip of tea - probably for some kind of dramatic effect. "Apparently you threw a 4,000 dollar vase at Dick’s head when he tried to intervene.“ Damian glowers at his shoes and says nothing. Todd pokes him in the leg. "Come on, short fry, spill.”

It suddenly occurs to Damian that not-hiding under the table was a strategically bad move. He’s trapped between Titus and Todd, without anything throwable within reach. And Todd is as annoyingly stubborn as everyone else in the family; he will not let this go.

“Father says I cannot patrol,” Damian eventually mutters.

“That’s it? You started breaking shit because he benched you? Wow. That’s almost me-level crazy.”

“He says I am banned from the Cave until i can find a way to deal with my anger that does not involve violence.”

The older boy snorts. “I hate to agree with B, but he may have a point. The vases I can understand - Lord knows how many of those have been broken since Bruce started collecting strays - but the chair was a bit of an overreaction.”

Damian can feel the anger from earlier simmering beneath his skin but short of throwing his cat at Todd’s head there’s not much he can do besides growl. “You’re such a hypocrite Todd - you tried to kill him first!”

Todd blinks, face scrunching up in surprise before smoothing out with understanding. “We’re not talking about B anymore, are we? This is about the Replacement.”

Damian looks away. His fingers are clenched so tightly around his mug his knuckles are white and his chest is tight with- anger. That’s what it is. Not guilt or regret or- None of the things Father thinks are affecting him. (Although, to be fair, Father does think anger is affecting him as well. And he may not be wrong but. He’s not completely right.)

“Bruce find out you tried to kill him?”

Todd shifts closer, leaning forward so he can reach behind Damian to scratch Titus around the ears. Their arms brush and Damian holds completely still, watching the older boy warily. He and Todd are not enemies, per se, but this… this friendliness is unchartered territory.

“He wants me to apologise,” he says stiffly.

“And you don’t want to." 

"It would not be sincere.”

Todd’s lips quirk upwards but it doesn’t quite become a smile. “That’s not the point.”

Damian frowns, brows furrowing. “Then what is?”

“To teach you a lesson.” Todd shrugs one shoulder, the simple gesture conveying a lot about what he thinks of Bruce’s parenting techniques. “You don’t want to apologise because it would be humiliating, admitting a fault or a weakness. He makes you do it anyway, makes you suffer the indignity of asking for forgiveness. It’s an unpleasant feeling. One you try to avoid in future by not doing whatever you did wrong again.”

“Oh.” When put like that, it makes much more sense. (Some detective he is if he can’t even figure out his Father’s motives.) “So all I have to do to get Robin back is apologise to Drake?”

“It’s a start.” Todd gives Titus one last pat on the head - and an “accidental” one for Damian as well - then scoots backwards until he’s no longer under the table. “Well, hide and seek has been fun, but unlike some members of this family I’m not freakishly short and my spine is not cut out for this kind of contortion.”

“Tt. You’re getting old, Todd.”

He gets a casual middle finger in response, “Respect your elders, Demon Brat.”“I’m not a Demon!” Damian snarls.

Todd holds his hands up in mocking surrender. “Of course not, my sincerest apologies.” A quick flash of teeth as he grins. “You wanna repeat that back to me? Y'know, for practice.”

His laughter follows him out of the room as Damian scrambles out from under the table and takes off after him. His Father will surely make him apologies for trying to kill Todd as well, but it will surely be worth it to wipe that smirk off his older brother’s face.

[slashfanfictionrecommendation]

"When Sesshoumaru unknowingly angers an enchantress, he finds himself in the grip of a cruel curse. Alone, discarded, frozen and forgotten, he prepares to accept his fate--until the hanyou brother he'd never acknowledged becomes his one chance at freedom."

Rating: T

Author: Hella

A nice Inuyasha and Sesshomaru brotherly fic.

Another non yaoi, non slash fic. Sorry I know that's what I made this blog for but I did give fair warning that they might not all be yaoi or slash.

(On a side note: Would I lose followers if I posted Inucest fic recs? I mean I know this is a mix fandom blog but I know some people just don't want that on their dash...

Fair warning though: I will post them. They'll all be tagged as Inucest if that's the pairing though. SO if you don't want to see them you can block that tag.)

[holybatblogbatman]

Breakfast Time

Title: Breakfast Time

Characters: Dick and Damien

Summary: Dick and Damien make breakfast together (please ignore that they're in the manor and not the penthouse, I wrote this back when I was still getting into Batman comics).

Warnings: Extreme cuteness and lack of a real plot.

Damien stifled a yawn as he made his way towards the kitchen of the manor. He was becoming soft with all this easy living. It was already 6am and he was yawning, it was unacceptable. From the kitchen he could hear the faint sound of pots and pans moving around. He could also here some laughter and soft exclamations, so he was at least in part prepared for the onslaught of happiness that hit him as he entered the room.

“Good morning Damien!” No matter the hour Grayson could be counted on to be a 'blinding ray of sunshine' (as Damien had once heard Barbara Gordon describe him) and to have that idiotic grin firmly in place. In the beginning Damien had dearly wanted to punch that grin right off his face. Time, however, had made him wiser. He had seen Grayson shot and still wear that goofy look, so he knew a punch would do nothing for it. The older man was still talking. “You're up just in time!”

Damien surveyed the scene carefully. Grayson was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, his hair sticking up in its not unusual disarray. He was holding a saucepan in one hand, a frying pan in the other, and had just stuck his head back into the open fridge. Several different utensils and food items were spread over the surfaces.

“Just in time for what?”

Dick's grin, if possible, was even wider, as his face appeared out of the fridge again. “You're just in time to help me make breakfast.”

A rather patronising sneer spread across the younger boy's face, “Grayson, I know you were born into virtual poverty, but I had thought you had lived with my father long enough now to understand that making us food and doing the chores is Pennyworth's job. He is paid for the service, you know.”

Dick just stuck his tongue out and turned, dumping the pans onto the cooker. “Yes, little princeling, I know that. And because it's his job, today he has this legal requirement called a day off – ever heard of one? Or does your mother just work her slaves into the ground?”

Damien didn't bother replying as he elbowed Dick out of the way to pull an energy drink out of the fridge, narrowly missing Dick's fingers as he slammed the door shut behind him. “Why should I help you?” he finally asked, after he had taken a sip from the can.

“You don't help make it, you don't help eat it.”

“-tt-, like I'd want to eat anything you cook.”

Dick's grin turned into more of a pout, “Aw come on Damien, it'll be fun! Besides,” here he looked a little sheepish, “I don't really do much cooking, I could use your help.”

“I don't do any cooking, Grayson, how am I meant to be of help?”

That gave Dick pause, “Your mother never taught you how to cook at all? What if you were out on your own in the wilds and had to find food?”

He got a scathing look in reply, “I of course know how to survive in the wild, Grayson. I can kill and skin anything from a rabbit to a bear. And build fires and spits.”

The thousand watt grin sprang back across Dick's face, “Great, then you can fry the bacon!”

Damien found himself in possession of a frying pan and a pack of bacon before he had time to blink. He had often given himself headaches trying to figure out how Grayson's mind worked and had eventually given up. He now decided he did not wish to know how killing and spitting a bear made you capable of frying breakfast bacon. And so he simply got to work without comment.

And so maybe it wasn't the worst thing in the world to be making breakfast with Grayson. The older boy juggled the eggs he was going to scramble and allowed Damien to test his skills by throwing additional eggs into the fray. Dick managed six but the seventh ended up on the floor, having only missed his head because he ducked out of the way. They ate the bacon right out of the frying pan (something Pennyworth never allowed), not bothering with plates, and Grayson substituted butter with syrup for the toast, creating a sticky mess on most of the counter top. By the time they had finished eating most of the kitchen was dirty, pans and bowls and bits of egg shell lying around the place. Dick gave it a look and sighed.

“Guess we should clean it up.”

Damien looked at the clock on the wall, it was later then he had thought it would be, he had not noticed the time going by. “We are already half an hour late with our training session, and I have a Wayne Enterprises board meeting at three o'clock.” Dick gave him a look and then laughed a little. “What?”

Dick shook his head, “It's nothing, it's just...you remind me of Bruce a lot sometimes, you know that?”

Damien tutted again, “My father and I have little in common Grayson, you are merely sentimental to the point of foolishness.”

“Yeah, whatever kiddo,” Dick placed a hand on Damien's shoulder as he directed him towards the door, an action Damien allowed, “We'd better make a start on that training then, we can always see to the kitchen at lunch....maybe we'll order pizza for dinner.”