#I love this lil family so much

[fiasco95]

Regulus’ favourite flower being sunflowers because it reminds him of James. No, it is the embodiment of James Potter in flower form.

James knows and absolutely loves it. One day, he passes by a market stall with varied crotchet items; hats, dolls, keychains, bags and many more.

There sat on the corner a sunflower shaped bag. Of course, James zeroes on it and quickly brings it up to the counter to pay.

Regulus cherishes the sunflower bag— not only because it’s his favourite flower but also James bought it. Specially for him.

Regulus wants his and James’ name embroidered on the bag but his skills for it is downright appalling. So he goes to James and asks him to do it for him, which he happily does.

R + J

And if one day you see a young girl with a disastrous ebony hair and a beaming smile that contends the sun wearing a sunflower shaped bag with an old embroidered name above a new name that reads;

R + J

C

Just smile at her from afar as she uses up all of her remaining energy to run up to two people with awaiting arms to catch her.

[chloesimaginationthings]

The FNAF Mikes talk about their extended family..

[ofbatsandballads]

Based on that little blurb you reblogged can I request the batfamily finding out that Jason has a girlfriend by him rummaging through the stuff in his pockets?

They're like dang dude what do you have in there? and it's all hair ties, lip stick, and a recipe for two 💕

-🍬

oh I love a good “Jason hides his lover from his family only for it to get revealed dramatically” fic and now thanks to you, nonnie, I get to write one!

jason todd x f!reader. warnings include canon typical injuries, sibling violence, and slight hints at the batfam’s more traumatic interactions. this is mostly a good ol’ batfam fic, because reader is only alluded to, but I really like it. sorry I made it angsty for a sec there, I just can’t resist the Dynamics™️.

Jason should’ve known better. Really, he should’ve. Taking on Killer Croc alone? A fool’s mistake, but he was just too stubborn to say yes when Bruce asked if he’d like some backup. So now here he is, loopy in the Batcave after Waylon absolutely rocked his shit.

“‘S not even that bad,” he slurs.

The fact that he trips on his own feet and nearly faceplants before Bruce catches him says otherwise.

“Sure it’s not, Jaylad. Let’s get you to the medbay,” Bruce grumbles, worry creeping into that stone cold exterior.

“I’m fine, old man. Lemme jus’ go home,” Jason whines.

He’s met with a grunt that firmly negates his request.

“You can stay in your room tonight,” Bruce says.

“Not my home. Wanna go home,” Jason mumbles as he drops onto the medbay bed.

If Bruce’s face drops a bit, if guilt and sorrow flash across his eyes? Well, Jason’s too concussed to notice. Bruce just nods and begins to assess any other injuries Croc may have left on him. When he reaches for the collar of the Kevlar top, Jason flinches away from him so hard that he slams into the wall behind him. It’s only when Bruce realizes that he’d brushed his fingers against the scar on Jason’s neck that he understands why. His heart sinks and he can’t even look at his son. His shame doubles when he hears a trademark sigh of disappointment from behind him.

“C’mon, Littlewing. Let’s get all of this off you,” Dick says gently as he pushes past their father.

Jason doesn’t flinch when Dick starts to remove his gear. In fact, the presence of his older brother sets him at ease.

“I told ‘im I had it covered, Dickie. He didn’t fuckin’ listen,” Jason complains.

“Yeah, had it so covered you’re concussed in the family home?” Dick teases.

“What the fuck, Richard?” Jason groans before breaking out into giggles.

“How hard did Waylon hit him?” Dick jokingly asks Bruce.

“There’s no fractures, but the contusions are appearing rapidly. Jason’s lucky that’s all he got.”

Dick stares blankly at Bruce. He goes to open his mouth to retort that he was kidding, then decides it’s not worth his effort. Tim thinks it is, though.

“Wow, for a guy that’s chronically online for vigilante reasons, you still know nothing about the internet,” Tim laughs as he wanders into the medbay and flops down on the bed next to Jason’s.

Bruce ignores the teasing and catalogs all the injuries that are revealed to him as Dick strips away Jason’s tattered gear. There’s plenty of lacerations on his torso and likely some on his back. A few are deeper but nothing they’ll need to call Leslie for.

“Or maybe your jokes just aren’t funny, Timothy” Damian says haughtily as he sits himself next to Jason.

The thirteen-year-old tries to put on a mask of indifference, but it wavers when he spots the gash on the back of Jason’s right shoulder.

“Akhi, in what world did you think apprehending Waylon Jones alone would go well for you?” Damian scolds.

Jason narrows his seafoam eyes at Damian and lowers his voice.

“Ya really wanna talk about apprehending people alone, demon spawn?” he taunts lightly.

Damian’s eyes widen and he drops the subject because no, he actually does not want to talk about that on account of the fact that he tried to bring in Clayface alone two weeks ago and nearly got immortalized as a clay statue until Jason swooped in. The two of them had scrubbed his Robin suit within an inch of its life to try and hide the excursion from Bruce. It worked; only Alfred noticed the faint hint of clay in the threads of the cape and all he’d done was sigh and shake his head.

Jason’s gear is fully removed and his head is starting to clear a bit, wooziness replaced by a hammering pain in his temples. The headache masks any pain he would feel from the stitches being placed in his back, though he also suspects that those are less painful because Damian is doing them.

“Your technique is gettin’ better, y’know?” Jason whispers, the compliment unheard by the other three men bustling around the room.

The hands stitching him up freeze and he can imagine the look of surprise on Damian’s face even without turning around.

“Thank you,” he mutters. “I think it will be useful for future endeavors.”

Jason smiles to himself. He knows the kid wants to be a doctor, and he thinks it’s a damn better fate for him than whatever Bruce or Ra’s could’ve planned. The silence that settles over the medbay is peaceful, only broken by the sound of clacking computer keys or the zipping of evidence bags. Then, like an unholy boom of thunder, comes the voice of Tim Drake.

“What the hell is all this?”

Jason’s head whips to the side and he sees Tim rummaging through the pockets of his tactical pants. He goes to scramble off the bed and feels the harsh pull of thread that was mid-stitch through his skin.

“Mind your fuckin’ business, replacement!” Jason shouts.

He grabs a pillow and chucks it at Tim’s head, but he just ducks and continues to empty Jason’s pockets. The contents that spill out on the sterile tray are…perplexing to say the least. Two lip balms (one tinted red), three scrunchies (one black and two red), a grocery list with the word strawberries and a woman’s name underlined, a recipe for chicken stir fry with enough for two portions, and one single soft chocolate chip cookie lay unexplained in the harsh white light of the medbay.

If looks could kill, Tim Drake would be dead and buried six feet under.

“What part of mind your fuckin’ business did you not get?” Jason growls, glaring daggers at the nineteen-year-old.

“Holy shit, he’s got a fucking girlfriend!” Tim exclaims.

The pillow hits him square in the face this time. All four sets of eyes turn to him with varying emotions. Shock is evident in the forest green of Damian’s gaze, smugness and vindication in the icy blue of Tim’s, panic and guilt in the ocean blue of Dick’s, and some weird mix of sadness and fondness in the gunmetal blue of Bruce’s eyes that Jason doesn’t want to think about for too long. The acrobat quickly moves across the room and sweeps all the belongings off the tray and back into the pockets of the tac pants. He grabs Jason’s gear from Tim and hands it back to its rightful owner, who clutches it to himself protectively.

“Don’t make assumptions, Tim,” Dick says. “Civilians leave stuff on us all the time.”

It’s true. They’ve all come home with someone’s forgotten work badge or piece of jewelry before. The oddest thing was when Bruce had a Hello Kitty keychain stuck to the end of his cape. Jason casts a subtle look of gratitude at Dick for trying to give him plausible deniability. Not that it works. Tim stares not at Dick, but through him with his pale eyes in a way that makes a chill run down the spine of the eldest son.

“You knew already? How?” Tim asks incredulously.

Really, he’s a bit miffed that he hadn’t figured this out already. He has contingency plan files on each member of his family (himself included) and he had not a clue that Jason might be in a relationship.

“Drop. It. Now.” Jason warns.

Tim doesn’t consider it until he sees Jason’s fingers twitching in the direction of the butterfly knife on his belt. He doesn’t need another scar from Jason shanking him. Well, at least not today.

“Fine. Whatever. But if I have to bring Bernard here for Thanksgiving, then you have to bring,” and he pauses to remember and recite the name on the grocery list, “home too.”

He knows he’s pushed it when Jason lunges at him, dragging Damian and a threaded suturing needle behind him. Tim barely jumps out of the way in time to avoid a punch to the jaw.

“Robin! Knock it off!” Bruce barks.

It’s almost comical the way all four of his boys freeze in place. It is slightly less comical the way they all proceed to glare at him.

“Fuck it,” Jason grumbles as he settles back on the bed for Damian to continue stitching his wounds. “Just get these done so I can go home.”

“Home to his girlfriend,” Tim murmurs.

“I will fuckin’ slash your throat again, you second-rate fuck!”

Bruce lets out one long suffering sigh. He doesn’t know you yet (a quiet part of him hopes he may one day be allowed to) but he already feels sorry that you’ve been roped into all of this. He feels even more sorry when the butterfly knife flies past his head and buries itself into the wall inches from Tim’s neck. Really, what is he going to do with these boys?

[catsharky]

And on that day, Garrus learned two things: to shut up and let Shepard fight the losing battle against gravity, and a whole lotta new human swear words

Comic Masterpost

Also, while I didn't end up being able to match the vibe of the rough for this panel, I like it so much that I must share it with the world

[cyberspringroll]

🥺😭💧 EE UUU U 😭🥺💧Eu💧💧E E😭😭 E EUE🥺🥺😭UUUUE😭🥺💧🥺😭 ue 💧ee😭🥺💧ue 🥺e e e😭. e 💧🥺😭Uueuuue. 💧💧E ee 😭🥺ee e🥺🥺😭eUEE 💧🥺💧EEE 💧💧😭U E 🥺😭EE H💧🥺😭E EUU💧🥺😭 EUHE 🥺💧😭EUEH🥺😭💧💧ue e😭😭eeeeee💧💧💧uu🥺😭 hh 😭🥺 EUH EE H🥺😭💧

occasionally, umemiya's work keeps him up at night.

there's no doubt that hajime loves what he does. he's passionate about his profession, dedicated to helping people, and he would never give it up—but there's just so much ugliness he has to see in his role as a child psychologist. so many terrible, horrible things he has to come toe to toe with on a daily basis. so much darkness in the world that he can't look away from because it's his duty to face.

sometimes, when something's really troubling him and hajime just can't seem to sleep—he has a case weighing particularly heavily on his mind, or he can't stop replaying the things he had to see or hear that day, or he's worried about what he can do to help a child who ended up in his office for one reason or another that week—he carefully slips out of bed without waking you, creeps down the hall to kosuke's room, and just watches his son sleep peacefully. tucked up all snug in his bed, curled up under his covers with his plushie clutched close to his chest, the glow in the dark stars hajime put up on the ceiling burning bright overhead. sometimes he even falls asleep like that, just watching; sitting on the floor, slouched against the bedside table or leaning over the edge of the mattress, lulled by the little boy's gentle snores and the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest.

even though the years pass—and the plushies get forgotten about in boxes in the attic, and kosuke stretches taller and taller until he takes up almost all of his twin-sized bed—hajime's work, in all it's worthiness and misery, stays the same. and so does the place he turns for comfort—only now things are a little different.

half the time, kosuke is still awake when hajime pokes his head through his bedroom door; studying or (more likely than not) playing video games with the volume turned low so that you don't come knocking to force him into bed. and the teenager only needs to take one look at his father to know what's plaguing him. even if it's never said in words. even if the man he looks up to so much does everything he can to conceal it and put on his usual, easy-going smile.

and then the boys will pull on their coats and shoes and sneak out into the night—heading to a convenience store, or the neighbourhood izakaya, or really anywhere that's open late and can serve them food to split between them. and they'll just sit there and eat together. neither of them even really need to be hungry. they don't need to say anything. the simple act of sharing food—of watching his son pick the carrots out of the yakisoba and push them to his side of the plate so he can eat them, of saving the last piece of fried chicken for kosuke, of splitting an ice pop on the walk home from the convenience store and watching how his blinks are slow because he's tired (but it doesn't stop him from finishing his treat)—soothes hajime all the same. it reminds him what, and who, he does all of this for.

[juniemunie]

Hee hoo more of the fam! ( ≧ᗜ≦)

Ft ideas:

-Error having Geno's glitches when hes unstable (and maybe even his eye melting,,, tho you rarely get to see it)

- PJ's comfort food is just some weird concoction Ink and Error made thats just error's strings and purple paint and called it "homemade ramen"

It sounds so dumb but its probably a really good healing item for him if he lost his strings=structure somehow.

-Gradient and Error communicate through puppets. Both of them are too socially awkward when face to face so this is for the best lmfao

-Ink building lil mini metatton robots!! Did you know his dad taught him how to build machines and studying astrophysics? Its so he learns to be less dependent on his paints and powers. I wish ppl draw him doing stuff like this more ; w ;

Error by @/loverofpiggies

PJ is by @/7goodangel

Gradient is by @/askcomboclub

Ink by @/comyet

[boarloved-art]

game show au wangxian!! thinking abt them a lot recently!!!

i didnt draw the backpacks in detail but trust that ayuans backpack is sonic the hedgehog, and wuxians is shadow the hedgehog. thats right wuxians MATCHING backpacks with a baby, 5 dead 15 injured.

[thegameartist03]

so i found out that Soundwave has a face under there (and that he was raised by Ravage, Laserbeak, and Buzzsaw)

[atlasthecactus]

robin doing usopp’s hair :D (this is part of their routine, trust)

[the-bat-bros]

When the guy who owns your local comic book store knows that you LOVE Jason Todd and reaches out the second he gets an old death in the family turned in 🥹 I didn’t even ask him to keep an eye out for this guys. Guys 😭.

[flowerakatsuka]

" just know that i'm always here for you, okay? "

i'm finally finishing up my s2 rewatch and getting to the 24th episode awoke a beast in me. so i wanted to make a fake screenshot based on some of their lore that takes place during that episode. i think they'd end up having a heart-to-heart moment since kuroba went through similar struggles after their grandfather's own hospitalization...

also have a bonus doodle bc i need to even out the balance between serious & goofy with these two.

[present-mom-blog]

Atsushi being very very confused about casual affection. It's got me in a chokehold, like y'all don't understand.

Atsushi doesn't understand why Kunikida pats him on the shoulder when he does his report to the best of his ability. Atsushi doesn't understand why Dazai pats his head and sometimes plays with his hair (mostly when he's bored and avoiding Kunikida). Atsushi doesn't understand why Kyouka leans against him sometimes when they're at the apartment. Atsushi doesn't understand why Kenji just HUGS him out of the blue. Atsushi doesn't understand why the Tanizakis bump against him while they walk from place to place. Atsushi doesn't understand (kinda) why Ranpo insists on holding hands when they go to a crime scene. Atsushi doesn't understand why Yosano squeezes his shoulder. Atsushi doesn't understand why President Fukuzawa gives him food and pats his hand.

Atsushi doesn't understand these things, he doesn't understand. His skin gets prickly and his breath sometimes gets quick because of all the skinship, but he likes it, but he doesn't, but he does–

[tharett]

Evolution of the Tallulah drawings ✍️

/

Evolución de los dibujos de Tallulah ✍️

[scatterbrainedbot]

I AM SPINNING I AM PACING I AM FULL ON FROLICKING IM SO EXCITED

@d1sc0rd1a THANK U FOR THESE TAGS

okayokayokayokay so pretty much all of these questions will be Officially Answered properly in the character design/intro pages im working on but also i am physically vibrating with excitement about the fact that you noticed all these details and i have very little self control so! lore dump time!!!

(minor tw for mentions of leos self-harm/self-destructive anxious behaviors and unhealthy coping skills)

- mikey does indeed have curly fur! i believe he would be considered a 'rex' rat (pictured on the left) for this trait? though the curls can be more easily seen on mice (pictured on the right). or, at least it seems that way. have not delved too deeply into the details of rodent genes and husbandry, but id assume its the same sort of mutation considering curly haired mice are also referred to as rex sometimes? either way hes a extra floofy bby 🧡

-as for raphie, unfortunately being more fluff and less shell than the average rapheal comes with its downsides. especially if you and your brothers occasionally encounter things like territorial dogs, hungry cats, or sewer crocodiles while exploring places ur dad said not supposed to go. (most of his scars will have more ninja related stories, but his ear i think got messed up from something very animal. probably around age 11 ish? old enough to sneak out from dads protection but young enough to not fully know how to handle himself alone against real danger. thankfully his ear injury looks worse than it actually is for the most part, as the damage was largely to the outer ear. his hearing wasnt super affected, except that he now has a bit of a harder time being able to track/pinpoint noises origins if its on his right side.)

-also yep! dons got some glasses that just clip/rest on the bridge of his nose! theyre mostly just for home use, as they do fall off if hes knocked around. in the field he has some goggles he tends to use (theyre helpful as they have multiple additional functions like heat-imaging, extra zoom/telescoping, and recording capabilities. but also theyll give him headaches if he wears them for too long without breaks). contacts are theoretically also an option but he absolutely hates the sensation of putting them in. so sometimes when hes tired he'll just not bother with either clips or goggles and just squint and struggle. leo hates when he does that lol.

-speaking of leo, he is def an anxious baby :) he has a few patches of fur missing on his hand cos he has the tendency to tug on it while hes thinking. he yanked and chewed on his own tail a lot when he was younger too, which is why when hes older he usually wears some wraps to cover the scars left from that behavior. he finds those scars specifically to be kinda embarrassing and shameful because they werent from any battle or life-lesson, just his own 'inability to control himself'. all of his brothers have repeatedly called him out on the fact that that is not a healthy way to think about his anxiety or mental health, but leo insists hes fine. hes kinda convinced himself that a proper warrior always has control over his own body* and his own thoughts, thus he should be able to just like willpower-brute-force his way into 'being better'. (this line of thinking pisses raph off so much he has to leave and go hit something)

Splinter also tries to talk him through some of that internalized guilt/shame/everything, but splinters very metaphorical, poetic, and indirect when it comes to talking about Big Things, which combined with how much leo gets caught in his own head, makes it kinda hard to gauge how much these talks actually help

*this is made extra fun considering leos also ftm trans, so he is faced with a body that fundamentally disobeys him perhaps more than the average rat-man.

-and im still going back and forth between a few species for splinter, but im leaning mostly towards an African Spurred Tortoise! they have these beautiful if kinda subtle geometric shell patterns and are the third largest species of tortoise in the world. the only thing that doesnt fit perfectly with Splints is that (allegedly) their lifespan in captivity is around 50ish years, whereas im p sure Tortoise Splinter is well over 75, probably closer to 90 when the boys are born and hes mutated into Old Man Papa.

but maybe hes just a particularly long lasting African Spurred Tortoise.

the Hamato family has taken very good care of him for many decades after all. :)

(well. until everything all fell apart, that is.....)

[thetechnicolorphase]

family portrait(s)

[capquinn]

Bug and uncle Luke vibes

Jim and Cub vibes 🤭🤭

so true bestie. uncle lukey is such a kid at heart so he indulges bug's every whim. he's also that guy who just naturally migrates towards kids at parties and family events engaged in their silly conversations and games. in another lifetime he would've been a teacher <3

and there is nothing more cub-coded than this 😭😭😭😭 you and quinn thought it’d be a peaceful trip to the shops, leave the kids with their grandparents. what could go wrong? well...

Now, let’s be clear — Cub isn’t a naughty child. He’s the sweetest little guy you could imagine, polite, kind, always eager to help, and absolutely full of curiosity. It’s just that his energy knows no limits, and his curiosity is boundless. He’s not misbehaving, not trying to cause trouble. He’s just... exploring. He needs to touch everything, try everything, see how it works.

So when he stumbled across Bug’s paint set, well, it was only a matter of time before chaos unfolded. He’d been so into it, dabbing his little fingers into the colours, blending them together, and just having the best time — so lost in the textures of the paint — that it never occurred to him that maybe he should stop.

And Jim, having only been gone for a second, thought Cub was fine, sitting a few feet away. But when he looks down and sees his grandson sitting on the living room floor, absolutely covered in blue paint, there’s a flicker of mortification across his face before he laughs.

He’s raised three boys — equally rambunctious, equally curious — and honestly, this isn’t half as bad as the antics he dealt with when they were this small. So, even though Cub looks like a tiny, paint-covered disaster, Jim can’t help but love it.

Cub, of course, is smiling up at Jim, not even noticing the paint all over his little body, grinning ear to ear, completely content with his artistic endeavours. He has no idea why his grandpa is laughing, but he’s happy to join in anyway, his little giggle filling the air.

Jim, still laughing and shaking his head in disbelief, picks Cubby up, paint smearing all over his shirt, and carries him toward the dining room to find Ellen. She’s sitting at the table, watching Bug quietly draw, completely absorbed in her own art but the moment she looks up and sees Jim, with Cub in his arms, both of them covered in paint, even she bursts into laughter.

Jim, still chuckling, shakes his head. “I looked away for two seconds,” he says through his laughter, holding Cub up as if the mess wasn’t already obvious.

Ellen just laughs again, pulling out her phone in one smooth motion and snapping a picture before sending it off to you and Quinn with the caption: Grandpa was supposed to be supervising... maybe he just likes blue?

Jim looks at the picture Ellen just snapped, shaking his head with a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. He glances down at Cub, who’s still grinning cheekily, completely unfazed by the mess of blue paint covering him from head to toe.

“Is that right, Cubby? You like the colour blue?” Jim asks, his tone playful, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

Cub nods enthusiastically, his little smile so wide it practically lights up the room.

“Uh-huh!” he says, his hands still sticky with paint as he tries to wipe them on Jim’s already-ruined shirt.

Jim chuckles and shifts Cub in his arms.

“Maybe you’re just getting ready to suit up for the Canucks one day, like your dad.” He pauses, glancing at Ellen with a smirk. “Though Quinn is gonna say I’m just trying to turn this into a team bonding exercise.”

Ellen laughs, her phone buzzing in her hand. She looks down at the screen, and as soon as she reads Quinn’s reply, she bursts out laughing again.

“What is it?” Jim asks, still bouncing Cub slightly, trying to keep him entertained.

Ellen holds up the phone, Quinn’s reply in bold letters: Tell Jimmy he’s out of practice. Can't handle one toddler?