#enjoy ig

[hibiscussoupbowl]

[golittleghostlittleghostgo]

okay so idea for a demon brothers/demon twins au:

danny and damian become separated for whatever reason, as they tend to do. maybe danny has amnesia and his dying brings all his memories back to him, maybe not.

but IMPORTANTLY, while damian and danny were together, they loved each other deeply, to the point that danny called damian 'ya roohi' meaning 'my soul'

so anyway fast forward to danny defeats pariah dark and takes up the crown -> he puts out a message to all universes, because he knows now that he dimensionally shifted somehow (i usually go with lazaras pit becomes a natural portal for brief and sporadic periods of time) and has no forking idea what his OG dimension was or how to get back to it

the Realms are forking HUGE okay and they shift around a lot so. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

anyway so danny puts out a proclamation saying that whoever brings him back his missing soul, he'll give them whatever they ask of him so long as it is within his power. considering danny is the ghost king, theres not a lot thats outside of his power these days, even less so when one gets into diplomatic relationships and the ability to ask favours or pull strings.

thus the hunt begins

back on their home world, damian gets a very strange feeling of forboding...

[maybe-jello]

animorphs memes. idk.

[alastor-insanity]

Text posts batch 18!!

16 / 17 / 18 / 19

[calledwera]

Next

[vaguerival]

Utmv fandom, please enjoy these godawful grainy doodles I just pulled outta my ass. Use them as you wish

[aineran]

Finding things out was something they all did. And they were really good at it. The problem was... perhaps some things were not meant to be found at all.

Dick stared at the tiny diary in his hand. It came out of one of the older boxs stashed in the attic of the manor. It was something something not behaving and Alfred sending them up to clean the dusty boxes as a punishment.

Them being them, opened the boxes out of curiousity and found Bruce's old clothes, uniforms of his private boarding school. And somewhere from that stash this old diary fell. Others had already gone down when this tiny thing caught Dick's eyes.

It was small– 3 inchs by 5 inchs, one to be carried around in pocket. The diary itself was nothing eye-catching but the first entry had certainly caught Dick off guard.

'I don't think people understand.'

It said, written in neat hard writing that Dick new to be Bruce's.

'I don't want to be difficult.'

'I– I– don't feel good. I feel like my consciousness is fading. I can't stay up. I can't sleep. I'm so tired.'

'I feel my consciousnees fade. My sanity tremble in one point... as if it'll fall apart any moment now....'

'I don't have my consciousness enough.'

Then in miniature letters:

'I miss mom and dad.'

Then the writibg turns messy, rough–

'My head hurts. My eyes feel heavy. I– I want to sleep–'

'and never wake up again.'

Dick stared at the crossed out line. There was no date to specify how old Bruce was when he wrote this, but given the uniform size, he could take a guess. His heart twisted. A kid that age should not feel like this.

He fliped through the pages. There wad scribbled down given homeworks, random notes, schedules, reminders– all like a normal school kid's diary except–

A sarcastic 'Congrats, you've done nothing!' here and 'I miss them' there. And 'I give up' everywhere.

'I give up. You know.... I really give up. Goodbye.'

'I'm sorry. And this is goodbye.'

'THEY'RE DEAD.'

'Tell me, how do you live again?'

Each miniature line in between those notes were a stab to the heart.

'It's weird'

Dick found one entry saying.

'I want to die so much. I don't want to keep breathing– every beat of my heart sounds too loud, I wish so much that it'd stop.'

'Yet. I cannot do it. I can't seem to do it. I mean, I've written before– "this is goodbye" but I can't commit to it. I come back and I'm still here. '

A messy, angry 'I'M SO TIRED' before–

'Wake me up when I,

have the courage to die.

Cause I'm too afraid to die.

So this is my goodbye.'

Then miniature: 'It's weird isn't it? Kinda funny I guess... and perhaps a bit sad.'

Dick wasn't sure what was this feeling. Just imagining Bruce as a kid, sitting on his desk, writing this– it made him feel so violently bad that he couldn't warp his fingers around it. He wanted to get into that time and hug kid Bruce until all stopped hurting.

Dick felt tears well up in his eyes. He briefly wondered what Alfred was doing in this time. Bruce was in a boarding school but he definitely needed support– he stopped abruptly on another tiny entry under a day's given homework.

'Where did we go wrong, Alfie?'

Followed with–

'It took me by surprise– the hetred in his eyes. I pushed this man as far as he could go, but he lacked the words to let me know.'

Dick felt like his heart almost stopped. Bruce thought Alfred hated him?!??

Then there was an abrupt stop of those small notes, just school stuff until–

'There is no, no place for me and I know that there is no going back.'

A page full of the word 'fake' followed. Messy, roungh, the page is even torn at some points due to how hard the pem was pushed down.

'EVERYONE. EVERYTHING. FAKE.'

The suddenly there's a page gap and Bruce's is writing about a friend. Someone he seemed to actually consider a friend, the only one. Dick caught himself giving a sad smile. At least the kid found someone, a bitnof positivity–

'He's dead now.'

An abrupt cut off on the next page after the entry about his new friend ends. Dick's smile droped fasted than lightning. He flipped through more pages but nothing. No elaboration, no cause, just– 'he's dead now.'

A hollow feeling took over. Empty in all sense of the word.

There was one last entry to the not even nearly half filled diary–

'Can you take it away? Don't go, please.' the words weren't neat and clean, but rather they looked like something scribbled in pure desperation, 'I don't want to do this anymore. I tried! I promise!! I tried to hold on. But I'm failing. And I'm falling down endlessly into this void'

'Falling and falling down down down–'

'All that we've been and all that we are.'

The writing become clear in the next para–

'Hey, can't you see the pain of my resolve?

Can't you see what I can't uphold?

Can you really bring the cure to my pain?

Can you wash away my hatred for life?

Can you make me feel alive?'

'You can't. Nobody can'

'Take my pain. Let me go astray. Let me fall, so none of me remains. Let this be the end of the line so I never have to face this way.'

'Please please please just let me die'

'Can you cease this sickness from existence? Can you let me be free again? Can you leave me so not even a shred of my consciousness remains?'

'Can you please let me fade away?'

Dick wonderef distantly if they were supposed to be lines of a song– something haunting but beautiful. He turned the page.

'Oh, let me fade–'

Then the tone shifted. Still neat but more of professional neatness sipping in.

'To the days that continue to come. Endlessly drowning in the dark. When will it all come to an end? When will these days cease to exist? When can I... go back to my parents?'

The last line struck like a train. Dick drew in a shaky breath.

'Can you see the pain of my resolve?'

Somehow the line still felt relevant to who Bruce was.

'Can you be the cure to it all?'

The writing turned violently messy again, Dick squinted barely making out the words–

'Tear me away so I can no longer feel. Lead me astray so it all fade away– the pain and the past.'

Then somewhat more fisible–

'And I wonder how you failed to see– such obvious signs– I've been dying this whole time–'

'And we see it all crash down. The consequences of our own–'

It turned to desperate again.

'Please just let me go insane. Please just let me throw it all away. Kill me. And let me be gone.'

'ERASE THIS PAIN OF AN EXISTENCE.'

'I don't need anymore please let me let me just go away.'

'Go and die.'

The tone shifted again as if Bruce composed himself before writing again,

'How long do I need to hold on? How long till it's all gone? How much longer do I have to stay sane? Bear this existence? Can't just, I be gone?'

'Can I run?'

'Nights and days leave me wanting to die. Is all of this just another lie? My life has already fallen. So why– why do O still need to bother with anything!? Everything, evertything I was, has crashed down on me. I can't move. I can't breath. I can't live like this!!!'

A child's desperation. Raw on the paper. Dick gulped down before turning the page. It was the last one.

'I hate it here. I wish I could die. I look at that window and I feel like it'd be so nice if I could just jump out and let everything be.'

The lines start to get disoriented.

'I think I've been losing myself. Maybe I'm going insane. just let me be.'

'I don't want to hold onto my sanity.'

'My body aches. every muscle is sore and every join is a pain. My head hurts. I don't know where I'm going. But I'm falling. And I know I'll fall.'

'I hate it. Can you take my hatred please? Can you please just take it away? My life and everything else–

'Why couldn't you let me be the one to go'

The words turn almost incomprihensible then

'Nothing is working. Nothing is helping. My body and my mind is stuck in this–'

Dick could make out the rest of the words and it descended into chaos.

The next page had two lines. One neat, one almost incomprehensible.

'I feel my sanity fade away, you've taken my whole lifex theres nothing left to say.'

And

'I hate living so much yet I can't help it–.'

That was it. Only 20% of the diary filled. Dick flipped through all the other pages. Nothing else. Dick closed the diary and held it close to his heart as he laid down on the attic floor. Tears escaped from his eyes and tracked along his temple before disapearing into his hair.

Hie heart was beating, aching. On top of it lay a piece of Bruce. A piece of his mind. A small proportion of who the kid Bruce was. A small window to his mind.

Dick wiped the tears away with the back of his hand, only for a second drop to follow. How come he never knew how badly suicidal Bruce was? Was this why Bruce took him in?

Dick raised the diary to look at it through blurry eyes, so he never felt like how Bruce did in here?

Fuck, Dick let the diary fall back on his chest. He felt so so overwhelmed. No idea of how to even bring this up to Bruce. To anyone at all.

Soon enough his siblings would realize he hadn't come down and com look for him. He didn't know what to tell them. He wasn't sure he should show them what he found. Bruce wouldn't– wouldn't like that, would he? He was a private man. To a fault, really. Dick wiped his tears away again before getting up. He pocketed the diary and practised a smile before he climbed down from the attic. Maybe he would stay in the manor tonight and maybe he could catch Bruce alone to have a conversation. Though he felt like it'd be more like a hugging session first because fuck, Dick so wanted to hug the version of Bruce that wrote in this diary... since he couldn't this Bruce ewould have to suffer from his love and support.

Guess who read her high school diary and decided let's write this thing as Bruce's? The content is slightly adjusted to fit Bruce :)) I hope it worked??

Read a Jason, Tim, Dick finding Bruce's old diary while cleaning the attic sometime ago. Forgot who it was by but that was awesome. Inspired by that and ofc my diary hehe.

Handwriting reveal? I think not, considering I write in seven different styles depending on my mood– okay I'll stop adding irrelevant things now

[kbzonceblog]

Hand in Babysitting ; Bucky B. ⋆˚꩜｡

[BLOG HAS BEEN MOVED TO @batzyz-mess]

╰ 001 - Bucky Barnes ; Marvel -- One Shot

Pairing ; Post TB!Bucky x Teammate!Reader

Summary ; You're sister drops off her kids without any warning. Begrudgingly, you agree to look after them. You're surprised, however, to stumble upon your very brooding teammate looking after them already.

Warnings/Tags ; After Thunderbolts*, crushing, fluff, grumpy Bucky, fatherly Bucky, I don't know how to tag, no use of Y/N. [No warnings to be mentioned]

Word Count ; 1.9k

A/N ; This is admittedly short, yes. This is my first post on here, yay!! Also I'd like you all to be aware I hand wrote this in school over five pages of notebook. Enjoy!! [I also seriously don't know how to fill out the tag space]

Bucky Barnes was the last person you expected to be good with kids. He was dark and brooding. He'd probably scare the kids half to death, anyways.

You had told your sister no. Told her that she couldn't bring her kids to the tower. Told her that you would not be looking after them while her and her husband went Thor knows where and screw. But does she listen? No. Not at all.

Which is probably why you stood out in the hallway. She had showed up after sending you a vague text, dropped the kids in the common room, and nearly left before you could start yelling at her. Nearly.

"Melody, I don't think you understand! I love the kids, with more then my heart, but the tower is not a place they should be," you tried, glaring harshly at the girl standing in front of you. "I am also most definitely the last person you'd wanna leave your kids with!" Melody scoffed, rolling her eyes.

"Please, it'll be fine. Just do this one thing for me, please! Me and Jacob need a night out!" She clapped her hands together, shaking them at you as if begging. You growled under your breath. You go to speak again, about to raise your voice, before she, much to your dismay, interrupts you. "Besides, isn't this like, the safest place to leave th--"

"NO!!" You barked, grabbing your sister by the shoulders and shaking her roughly, praying you'd snap some damn sense into her tiny little brain. "It is not! What even makes you think that, you absolute dumb ass?"

You lost that argument in the end, just giving up. It's pointless arguing with someone as stupid as your sister, anyways. Melody left, off to whatever the hell it was she wanted to do with her even stupider husband. You sigh, slumping your shoulders as you walk back into the common room, bracing yourself for the mess you'd inevitably see. As the door slid open, however, you were pleasantly surprised with no mess at all. In fact, the kids weren't even arguing. Or crying. Or whining. Or screaming. It was just Bucky, with your niece hanging off his arm, and your nephew doing his hair. You froze, furrowing your eyebrows and shock and confusion. It took you a good minute before you could speak again, clearing your throat.

"Uhh... Bucky?" You mutter, eyeing him and his interactions with your sister's kids. He looks up, expression stoic as he gives a little wave with his right hand. He glances at the kids, before speaking. "These things yours?" He questions, Brooklyn accent dripping as he tilts his head just barely, making the chocolatey brown locks your nephew wasn't paying with fall into his face a bit. You had to stop yourself from dying on the spot from just that. You gained your bearings, opening your mouth as you nod. "My sisters," you clarify, stepping towards them.

You settle down onto the couch across from them, letting your eyes roam over the situation. The little boy stood behind him on the couch, little tongue sticking out and brows furrowed in concentration. You watch as he pushes the hair that had previously fell into Bucky's face back, pinning it carefully to the rest of his lacks with a rainbow unicorn beret. You niece, on the other hand, was very busy working up a sweat. She has her little arms wrapped around his much bigger, metal bicep, hanging off of it. Bucky holds her up without an issue, completely unbothered by the whole interaction. Something about the scene, seeing the usually stoic ex-HYDRA assassin, letting the kids mess with him, made your heart flutter. Especially the way he seemed to stare at you, blue hues trained on you. You quickly shook that away, mentally smacking yourself for thinking of your teammate in that way. It was hard not to.

"I'm... gonna go make them a snack," you say, already standing up from the couch. You need to clear the thoughts swarming in your head, preferably somewhere away from Bucky's intense gaze. He nods, eyes on you the whole time as you exit the room. You can feel them burning into the back of your head, and you shudder, trying not to visibly show how effected by him you were. You let out a breath you didn't even know you were holding as the doors slide shut behind you, rolling your shoulders and trying to collect your thoughts as you make your way towards the kitchen.

Get it together man, you mentally scolded yourself, slapping your own wrist in a way to try to snap you out of it. You shouldn't be thinking this way about your teammate, let alone one that's that unofficial leader of the group. This may not be the first time, and certainly never the last of these thoughts of yours, but that doesn't stop you from being disappointed in yourself every time. You just couldn't help it.

But the way his hair looked as your little nephew pushed it back, framing his handsome face. Those damn baby blues that seemed to stare right through you holding just the tiniest hint of amusement. The smallest of quirks on the corner of those pink lips of his. The way his vibranium arm glinted in the dim lights of the common room, the muscle of it barely straining as he held the little girl up. He seemed to barely even try. You couldn't help but let your mind wander to how easy he could hold you up, how nice his large hands would feel on your skin.

You were so lost in thought, you ran straight into the wall, missing the kitchen opening by about a foot.

You huffed softly, backing up. Mumbling and grumbling to yourself as you entered through the actual kitchen door, instead of trying to go through the walls like Ava. Focus, focus. You ran a hand through your hair, unable to shake any of the thoughts of him, much to your absolute dismay. You try your best to focus as you navigate the kitchen, your current mission trying to make a space in your mind beside your unruly thoughts. You let out a frustrated breath, eyes searching the kitchen for a snack for the kids. You move to the fridge, rummaging through it for a minute. Eventually, you give up and just grab a view apples from the counter.

You sat them down, easily slicing them into small triangles. Deciding they should have something to coat them with, you grab the bucket of caramel you hide from Yelena, setting it by the plate. You organize the apple slices, still trying to not let your thoughts stray to Bucky and how good he was with the little kids. Bucky likes peanut butter. Why did you know that? You scoff to yourself, but still turn to search for the peanut butter. You look through the cabinets, finally letting your eyes land on the tub of peanut butter on the top shelf. You stand on your tip toes, reaching up to grab it. Before frowning. Who the hell put it up that damn high? Probably Alexei.

You reach for it again, biting your lip as your stretch for it. Your body freezes, however, when a warm hand rests on your waist. A vibranium arm comes into view, reaching over your own to grab the peanut butter. You can feel him through your clothes, the warmth of his chest pressing against your back. His breath brushing up against your neck, making goosebumps prickle across your skin. The moment is lost as he pulls back, holding out the peanut butter for you to grab.

You clear your throat for what feels like the fiftieth time today. "Thank you," you manage, putting your best effort into keeping the high pitched spike of your voice down. You turn back round, resuming your mini mission of making the kids a little snack of apple slices. Along with Bucky, your niece and nephew had made their way into the kitchen, where they now sat at the counter on the stools. Their eyes were sparkly, unaware of the inner battle happening within you. You glance at Bucky, catching his side profile and nearly dropping the peanut butter when you turn to put it back up. You don't recover as fast as you had hoped you would, Bucky casting you a questioning, observant glance from the corner of his eyes. You shake your head, dismissing his curious glance, and putting the caramel up.

You slide over the mini snack platter you made, observing as the kids munched. Trying to will yourself not to look over at Bucky. Lost in thought, you didn't notice Bucky snatching an apple slice from the plate, dipping it into the peanut butter. He took a few cautious steps towards you, before smirking. You weren't paying a single bit of attention to him. Maybe trying a bit to hard to not look at him. Perfect.

He snapped you out of your thoughts, placing his hand on the small of your back. You jolted, eyes widening as he brought the peanut butter coated apple slice up to your lips. Your breath hitches, your face flushing a bright pink, your shoulders tensing a weensy bit. You steal a quick glance at him, finding it even harder to breath as you observe the small smirk on his lips. You give in, parting your lips without even thinking about it. Unable to think about it.

His grins a bit more, a small crinkle around his eyes that makes your heart nearly stop. He brings the slice all the way to your lips, feeding you the apple slice like it was the most normal damn thing in the world. You bite down, chew, before swallowing. Feeling the little bit of peanut butter left on the corner of your mouth, you begin to reach a hand up to wipe it off. Only to be stopped by Bucky's free hand grabbing your wrist, his head dipping as he pressed his lips to yours. Your breath hitches, heart stopping as a muffled noise of surprise escaped your lips, drowned out by his own.

His lips were so damn soft, tasted so damn sweet. They moved gently against yours, barely a brush of them. The sensation caused your mind to go blank.

Just as quick and surprising as it happened, he pulled back, licking his bottom lip in a way that should have been illegal because it was so attractive. And just like that, he was back to eating apples as if that hadn't happened. Like he hadn't just leaned down and kissed you. Like he hadn't done it so tender, so soft, just to clean off a bit of peanut butter from your lip. Your nephew beamed. "I win!! They kissed!!" He giggled, swinging his feet as he looked happily at his sister.

Oh. Oh.

It was a dare. That's the only logical explanation. He had taken a dare from a seven year old. Your heart sunk slightly, and you swallowed, glancing away and biting your lip. You were ashamed to admit it, but you felt like you were about to cry. The feeling was lost when he leaned down, breath warm and welcoming against your ear. He pressed a kiss to it, murmuring lowly so only you heard his words.

"I'll see you tonight, yea, babydoll?"