How Old Is Yancy?

“Where am I?” asks the newest ego, standing on unsteady legs. He’d dropped into the void only moments ago.

“We’re in the void,” Dark tells him. He smiles, all teeth and malice. “For now.”

“What am I?” the new ego asks. He stretches, the outlines of his physical form still hazy and blurred. His eyes, or rather, what will eventually solidify into his eyes, search the void for any scrap of reason. He’ll learn soon enough that there is none. Not here.

“You’re whatever you want to be,” Anti laughs. He glitches, ever so slightly, and places a hand on the new ego’s shoulder. It’s not comforting. It’s not meant to be.

“We’ll help you figure it out,” Dark says. His voice reverberates and his aura flexes, filling the infinite space of the void with as much ringing static as it can. The offer of help does not come from a place of compassion.

The thing that will eventually begin to look like Ethan shivers, but grins all the same.

While I was sitting here typing up my headcanons for Robbie, I decided that I was in the mood for writing about him. So here is my own ‘origin story’ for the zomboi.

“Necro-mistake-cy”

Keep reading

His hands.

—

It’s such a small thing, hardly noticeable. Henrik’s gaze flicks over when he hears Jackie enter his lab, rummaging through his bandages until he finds a couple to wrap around his wrists. Jackie’s knuckles are bruised and bleeding, but his expression is stoic as ever, lips a thin line as he marches back out, probably going to wrap his hands up for healing purposes. Henrik watches him leave, wondering what triggered this bout of injuries, but he doesn’t follow.

He already knows Jackie won’t answer. He turns back to his work, figuring he’ll ask later, maybe over a cup of tea.

Jackie sits down in the living room to wrap his hands. Jameson is already sitting there, turning over a piece of wood in his hands, wondering what to carve next. He flicks his gaze up hopefully, wanting to move closer to Jackie and ask him for company, but Jameson says nothing when he notices Jackie’s fingers. They’re trembling lightly while Jackie wraps his knuckles up tightly, mouthing swear words to himself as he hisses back pain. Though his expression remains stoic, Jameson can see pain in Jackie’s eyes, so he lowers his gaze and turns back to his block of wood.

Maybe he’ll carve something later, or speak with Jackie when he’s not in a bad mood. He says nothing when he hears Jackie get up and storm away.

It’s a few days later, and Chase is sitting on the edge of Jackie’s bed. He’s rambling on about a project he wants done, while Jackie is typing out and organizing notes for him. Jackie’s always been the faster typer, but Chase stops briefly when he glances down at Jackie’s keyboard. Have Jackie’s fingers always been swollen? They look redder than normal. He opens his mouth to comment, but when he sees the impatient look on Jackie’s face, he dives right back into his ramblings, hoping to forget the brief but silent exchange.

He’ll worry about it later when they aren’t both in the middle of doing important work. Right now, he needs to focus.

Later that evening, Jackie and Marvin are lounging on the couch together. Laughing over stupid jokes, knocking back cans of soda and eating various junk foods. It’s a simple evening with nothing to worry about, until Marvin takes Jackie’s hand in his own. Not to hold, but to inspect. The mood shifts from light-hearted to more somber as Marvin falls silent, tracing along the many callouses along Jackie’s fingers, the faded scars, the bruises, healing cuts, and swollen pads.

How long had Jackie’s hands been like this?

His hands had been used for so much. Marvin sees Jackie grabbing at a falling Chase to save him from heights. He can see Jackie reaching a hand out to a lonely Jameson, who’s reaching back to take that offered friendship. Jackie’s hands prying a grief-filled Henrik away from a deceased patient, to guide Henrik away and pull him in for a hug.

Jackie’s hands have reached out to nudge Marvin into continuing his magic against all other odds, when reality should have had the magician sprawling back into oblivion. Jackie’s hands had always been there to hold him upright.

To hold all of them upright when they wanted to fall.

To hold the city in one piece, even without thanks for all the work he’s done.

Reaching for the most broken down person, always with a smile on his face, always with new scars on his fingers.

His hands have always been there, always a symbol of safety.

How had Marvin not noticed before? He glances up briefly to see Jackie watching him, an expression of melancholy on his face. He doesn’t need to peek into Jackie’s mind to know what the hero is feeling.

They both already know.

Silently, Marvin conjures up a bottle of lotion and rests the bottle in his lap. He keeps hold of Jackie’s hand, spreading the fingers out wide so he can start massaging them.

Silently, the others come trickling in, with snacks of their own, but the food isn’t what they’re focused on either. Chase is taking Jackie’s other hand in his own, giving it a squeeze before mirroring Marvin’s movements.

If Jackie’s hands can do so much for them, imagine what they can all do for Jackie.

listen people are starting to realize tumblr isn’t dead we all need to be as cringe as possible for the next few months, it’s vital to our survival

reblog and make a wish! this was removed from tumbrl due to “violating one or more of Tumblr’s Community Guidelines”, but since my wish came true the first time, I’m putting it back. :)

2 kids getting along

Having a “why I oughta” fight with myself... nbd

Some JackieBoy Man sketches plus Chase!

@taikeero-lecoredier @immabethehero @the-real-comically-insane @kiipz @victory-cookies

If I posted a couple shorter drabbles and wip pieces, would people wanna read those?

Doodling some boys as I procrastinate on my big art ™