Sbi Is My Comfort Dynamic, So Here’s Their Story In My Small Town Au!!

Among Us comics!! Some are based on moments i had while playing ;)

How old is Yancy?

I was doing some research and as far as I found, the sentence for murder is usually a life sentence. Prisoners convicted of one murder can apply for parole after 25 years, but if they are convicted of multiple murders a judge can decide to extend how long they have to wait or take away the possibility for parole.

Yancy aledgedly killed two people, but he’s eligible for parole when we meet him in Heist, which means he’s been in prison for a bare minimum of 25 years, and that’s only if he JUST became eligible for parole. If he was the same age as mark, then he must have been convicted when he was five.

My friend and I made clay sbi!

okay fuck it hi im damien and im sorta new to mcytblr but not really i just dont have many mutuals within the fandom and i wanna change that SO! if you post about any of the following, please like/rb:

-dream smp

-wilbur soot

-tommyinnit

-technoblade

-tubbo

-ranboo

-nihachu

-eret

-karl jacobs

-quackity

id also like to make some mutuals who were fans of unus annus so yall feel free to like/rb too! thanks :)

im bored and i have no shame so here have this entirely unedited draft that i’ll probably never finish

“You two don’t sit still much, do you?” 

Phil watched the two boys carefully. The taller one looks ready to bolt, or possibly attack Phil if it came to that. He’s wiry, barely an ounce of meat on him, fear poorly hidden by anger on his dirty face and a hand tucked into his friend’s. His clothes aren’t anywhere close to new or even clean. Phil took in the worn shirt and wondered if one of Wilbur’s old shirts would fit him. The little one looked a bit less world worn, if only because he’s less gaunt. By the way the taller was poised to react if Phil made some wrong move, he could guess that he must have been the protector. Phil wouldn’t be surprised if he gave most of his food to his friend when times were lean. 

The short one was looking at Phil with a politely neutral expression. It was a facade though, Phil realized. His eyes had a familiar observant intensity. Phil smiled, reminded of a boy with pink hair who’d looked at him the same way. 

“No sir,” the little one answered. 

Phil keeps his face even and lets himself be judged. The short one spares a glance at his friend, hardly taking his eyes off of Phil for more than a few seconds, and Phil watches the two boys have an entire conversation in front of him without uttering a word. He catches the head tilt of a question, and barely keeps from laughing out loud at hearing the little one mumble, “I can’t understand you when you look at me like that.”

Eventually, their conversation reaches its conclusion because now the tall one is looking at him with loaded and hesitant hope and the little one turns back to Phil with the air of a businessman. 

“Do you have anything that needs fixing at your house?” 

He doesn’t ask anything else. Not for food or shelter or even pay for the labor. And oh, Phil wants to pull them both into his arms and give them the chance to forget the ways they’ve learned to keep themselves alive. But he can’t. Not yet. They’re too wary, too tired now to accept the possibility of rest, so he pretends to look thoughtful for a moment. 

“The garden is about ready. Big harvest this year; I doubt I could pull it all in by myself. I’m not as young as I used to be.” He doesn’t mention that he has two helpers waiting at home, nor that age has never really made a dent in his ability. 

“We’re good with gardening,” the taller one says, finally speaking up now that Phil has apparently been deemed mostly harmless.

“Harvesting, at least,” the shorter one interjects.

“Yeah. Never could get anything to grow on our own, but we’ve helped with plenty of harvests.”

“That’s good. I can pay you and feed you if you’ll give me a little help.”

The boys’ eyes get a bit brighter, and the short one nods enthusiastically. 

“My house is this way. It’s a bit into the woods; can you walk that far?”

The tall one apparently takes offense to that, because he huffs and pulls on his friend's hand, speeding up and walking ahead of Phil towards the woods. The smaller one looks back at Phil, who smiles goodnaturedly, and then turns back to follow his friend. Phil follows at a distance. He won’t begrudge these two their independence. They’ve been through too much to be patronized, even by genuine concern for them. 

Soon though, they reach the edge of the woods and slow down, realizing they don’t know the way. They’re startled by Phil draping his cloak over their shoulders. He couldn’t help it; they looked so cold. And it felt better to do something instead of just wondering how often they slept outside in this weather. The shorter looked down in shock, rubbing the fabric between his fingers. The tall one looked at Phil with something between accusation and confusion. His eyes widened when Phil walked past, though. Phil smiled, a bit of mischief in his eyes as the tall one nudged his friend without looking away and suddenly there were two sets of eyes staring in awe at the large wings on Phil’s back. 

“It’s this way,” Phil said, gesturing for the boys to follow.

“You have wings!” The tall one shouted.

“Can you fly?” The other asked.

“Not here, the trees are too low. I’d have to go over.”

“You can fly!” That was the tall one again.

“Thanks mate, I noticed.”

He didn’t miss another wordless exchange between the two, but he didn’t bother wondering what it was about.

“What should I call you?” He asked, letting the conversation drift away from his wings. Surprisingly, the taller took no time to answer.

“Tommy. This is Tubbo.”

“Tommy,” Tubbo scolded, for some reason.

“Tubbo, huh?” Phil asked. 

“Sorry sir. It’s… Toby. My name is Toby.”

Tommy looked upset at that. 

“I can call you what you like. Do you prefer Tubbo?”

Tubbo looked surprised, but Tommy answered for him.

“He does.”

Tubbo looked at Phil apprehensively. Apparently deciding that Phil was being genuine, he nodded shyly.

“Tubbo it is then.” 

They walked for a while, Phil leading at little more than an amble, and the two boys trailing behind him, whispering excitedly and glancing at his wings, and sharing the cloak between them. 

They reached the house by the time the sun was almost down. The horses were missing from their small stable, which meant that techno and will were still out. That was probably good. Phil didn’t want to overwhelm the two boys. He ushered them inside, not missing how they were trying to hide their shivering, especially Tommy. 

“The garden is out back. We can work on it tomorrow,” Phil said.

“Tommy and I can work on it tonight if you want,” Tubbo offered.

“It can wait. We can have dinner for now. May as well rest while it’s dark.”

I fully believe that if one of the other sides ever complimented Remus, he would just fall down dead on the spot

When I was wide awake this morning, I started thinking about what my own version of Robbie would be like. This list is the result:

Innocent boi - soft and gentle

He soft, but he attac (don’t hurt his family or anyone small and helpless)

“Mouth not make words…right”

Clumsy, but he tries (he has two left feet and his grip isn’t that great)

He’s surprisingly great at coloring and is always cautious when holding small, fragile animals

He exists because Marvin was playing around with an old spell book in a cemetery (gosh dang it Marvin). He tried to hide Robbie, but the curious zombie couldn’t help but shuffle out of his bedroom when the other egos were making so much noise.

Anti was silent and didn’t say much when they were introduced, but he was the first to offer when he needed a place to sleep (he quickly decided that the poor zombie needed a big brother mentor to teach him.

He likes soft things and small places (he hides sometimes to find comfort), but he is terrified of absolute darkness - it reminds him of being trapped underground.

He’s the shortest, but he insists that’s only because he can’t really stand without slouching (sure Jan…)

He is a SASSY bugger when he wants to be.

Marvin and Chase help him improve his communication beyond grunts and ‘yes’ and ‘no’

Anti and Schneep work with him on his motor skills (Schneep mainly helps him with his walking, while Anti plays catch and little games with him)

Jameson, bless his heart, was the one that taught Robbie how to properly use eating utensils. (”Robbie don’t need…fork” *proceeds to shovel food with his hands* Jameson about had a heart attack)

So yeah, that’s what I came up with. I might start writing about him, I don’t know

New video!!

I’m drawing all 6 of the Jacksepticeye egos and next up is JackieBoy Man!!

Available as a sticker on my RedBubble

@taikeero-lecoredier @therealjacksepticeye

The night shift aspect of my new job is the push I need to become the cryptid I've always known I could be. Catch me sitting on a lawn chair in fuzzy socks at 3am eating cereal out of a coffee mug

i think what’s on a person’s nightstand is very telling so reblog this and put in the tags the things you have on your nightstand