#IN A FATHER FIGURE WAY

[zorangezest]

custody battle

aka I really reeeealllyyy like the dynamic that @crumb-crumblet-s-crumbington gave soundwave and bee. they are adopted father adopted son they adopted each other

[mxrcusflint]

Bradley "Rooster Babygirl" Bradshaw inspired by this post

[ash-short-for-trash]

The fact that both Obi-Wan and Ahsoka think that the other died during order 66 and spend years mourning the other when they both survived is so heartbreaking

[cor-lapis]

If I had a nickel for every time a father in genshin was (suspected to be) involved in child human experimentation

Links below cut:

Candace redesign: eternal-moss (tumblr)

Dehya redesign: ohhnorr (tumblr)

Cyno, Tighnari, and Collei: mine :)

Quest summary masterpost (needs updating)

[daydreamerwonderkid]

I can't deny that there's a part of me that's absolutely delighted that each time Bruce unjustly went after Jason, the Batkids responded in kind.

This isn't my ideal version of the Batfam, but it does warm my heart seeing Jason's siblings stand up for him.

[littlefankingdom]

I'm thinking about the drastic differences between how Bruce reveals his identity and how Dick reveals his identity in World's Finest. Dick simply takes off his mask and presents himself to the Titans, but Bruce? Bruce, he calls the Daily Planet, asking them to send Clark Kent to his manor immediately. Clark is now in the house of a stranger he only knows as a rich extravagant man, and said man starts explaining how he knows Clark is Superman. Clark tries to deny it and Bruce explains how he filed the room with a gas that humans cannot breathe, and Clark can breathe, so he is not human. At this point, for Clark, Bruce Wayne is a dangerous man who knows his secret identity, and he has him in his house full of gadgets. Bruce asks him to follow him, and he takes him to the Batcave, which is how Clark makes the connection. Like, the dramatics of it all? The theatrics? Making your colleague fear for their safety? Showing how they need to be better at hiding their identity? Slightly playing bad guy? This is so good.

Anyway, now I cannot accept Bruce not doing something like this everytime he reveals his identity to another Justice League's member. But his kids, they are simply taking their masks off, like normal people. And now, you have other vigilantes' families discussing how they learn their bats' identity and being baffled.

Barry: They just... Took their masks off? And told you their names? That's it? No supervilain's monologue?

Wally: BATMAN PRANKED YOU???!!! I'm calling Dick.

Bart: *Blue screened from learning that Batman pranks the JL*

[morganbritton132]

Eddie is just trying to film a Tiktok to remind his fans about some upcoming shows but trails off when Steve says off-camera, “Hey, remember that RadioShack guy that was banging your mom?”

Eddie: *flips camera around to show where Steve and Jonathan are sitting on the couch*

Jonathan: …Bob.

Steve: Yeah, him. That toe guy from Lord of the Rings looks exactly like him, right?

Jonathan: …

Jonathan: Gollum???

Eddie: Toe, as in Po-tay-toe. He’s talking about Sam

Steve, snapping his fingers: That’s the guy

Jonathan: Oh.

Jonathan: I don’t see it.

[doctorsiren]

I’ve been thinking about Miles as Serizawa quite a bit 😁

[serpentface]

Wardin provincial tax magistrate on the annual Apomalo Tlinya (phrase close in meaning to 'journey of the late (autumn) sun'), which is a tax collection tour.

His station is marked by his white cloak, royal blue belt, gullfeather khattanocuy, the ability to bear a sword, and a scroll containing documents stamped with the Usoma's seal confirming his identity and authority. He does not travel alone, but is accompanied by a large retinue of scribes, soldiers, advisors, and servants.

All citizens have tax obligations regardless of class, and these are owed primarily in grain and livestock. This is based in this internal economy being predominantly a barter system (with its coin currency having direct value as precious metals and serving as a means of establishing fixed values for various trade goods) and heavily reliant on agricultural goods. It is significantly more difficult to evade or cheat on taxes when what you owe can be established by sight, measured in hard to miss livestock and fields of crops.

As such, taxes are collected via annual tours in which these magistrates (personally appointed by the Usoma and collecting in his name) tour their lands in person. The Apomalo Tlinya serves multiple purposes. It is primarily a method of collecting tax, but also doubles as a way to assess a province's agricultural wealth and well-being as a whole and to take an official census of the population.

This routine act of taxation has been integrated into official religious practice, being looped in with the bounty of the harvest season and thanksgiving to the face Inyamache for having provided the necessary long summer sunlight as the days grow shorter. The actual Apomalo Tlinya begins upon the official celebrations of the New Maize day in each capital city (usually observed on a separate day at the actual end of the harvest for each village), where the festival ends with the tax party leaving the city in procession. The magistrate always ceremonially rides a red bull khait, bearing a solar disk framed by royal dual-viper insignia on its horns. The bull's journey is compared to the ideal seasonal behavior of the sun, generating new life out of rain-fertile earth and then 'dying' after the harvest to allow for the rains to come. Villages who host the Apomalo Tlinya entourage each night experience a fringe benefit via permission to introduce any receptive mares to the bull and possibly get some (very valuable) calves out of it. The bull will be sacrificed at the end of the journey in a final act of thanksgiving, in hopes this offering will help ensure the next year is bountiful.

The attempted veneer of solar thanksgiving and harvest cheer aside, the Apomalo Tlinya visit is enjoyed by just about no one (except for perhaps the people lucky enough to get a pretty khait calf out of it), as it entails the personal loss of some of this aforementioned harvest. Nobility owe SUBSTANTIALLY higher taxes than commoners (given that they are considered to Own the majority of the crops/livestock, which is only Tended by their land's peasants), though the actual tax burden is proportionately steeper on the peasantry (whose tax obligations will come primarily out of their allotted share of the harvest, and/or any livestock they raise on the side). Taxes don't tend to be outright devastating in years with average crop yields, but an already bad year can be made ruinous by this visit. The timing also coincides with seasonal harvest festivities. A few unlucky villages every year may have their New Maize feast day interrupted by the sound of horns and a small legion of white-clad taxmen bearing down to collect.

Each province has only one tax magistrate, making this a lengthy and logistically complicated undertaking. It begins at the end of the harvest season (late summer), and the rounds may not finish until early winter. While it might be easier to divide these duties among a greater number of less-powerful officials, this allows taxation to remain Relatively centralized and performed by trusted appointees (often friends or relatives of the Usoma himself). This has had side effects of these officials becoming especially powerful individuals within each province, with very little checks in place to prevent corruption (beyond hope for sustained loyalty, often reinforced with special privileges and favors). Flagrant abuse of this system is rare, but more unpopular magistrates are commonly suspected to leverage additional off-the-books taxes for their own personal gain.

[padmestrilogy]

the thing about padme’s deleted “mother of the rebellion” rots scenes is this is a once-14yo girl who said “i was not elected to watch my people suffer and die while you discuss this invasion in a committee” now a 27yo woman who grew into one of those helpless senators, spending her final days trying to stop a war via committee before watching her husband cause untold suffering and death. like id lose the will to live too damn

[terrumdurak]

Your SVSSS are so well drawn and thought out! Do you have any ideas for Yue Qingyuan?

Thank you sm!!! <3

I love yqy (i want him to be my unkle so so bad), but i realised that i've never drawn him properly, so here he is. also added a couple of references i've been using

i also drew a little sketch. They both do know...

A closeup of main reference i've used. i love this artist's concepts, they actually were first i've ever seen and impressed me a lot. Sadly i don't know artist's credit, their art was on the website i was reading on

[bbuzz28]

Memories

Old man Fiddlestan, my beloved-and what's this? It could be semi-canon compliant :O ?!?! Woof- this is one of the saddest things I have ever written. I know some of you gremlins (affectionate) love that sort of thing, but I don't. I like really really don't. This is my comfort ship, so I don't even know where this came from other than trying to figure out how they *could* work in canon. Truthfully though, I prefer my Fiddlestan heavy on the comfort when it comes to the "hurt/comfort" genre. This is my only “angsty” (i.e. no immediate happy ending) Notes-app fics, so don't get used to this level of sad from me lol.

“Stan?” an oddly familiar voice called. Mr. Mystery, Stan Pines, glanced up from the flyers he was organizing and found that Old Man McGucket stood in the doorway of his front door. The last tour of the day had just left, it was dinnertime, and he was exhausted. Stan rolled his eyes as he unfurled his tie, wishing Soos was still there to escort the crazy old man off his property. No matter what he did, the old hillbilly always managed to find his way back to the Shack. “Sweet Moses McSuckit, what are you doing in here? Shoo, scat, or whateva will get rid of ya.” Hearing no movement, he looked at the man again and found he was standing erect. His blue eyes were the clearest he had seen them in no less than a decade.

          Wait, what did he call- oh. Oh no.

“Stan…ley? Did I…did I do somethin’ wrong?” the other man asked, his hands twisted in knots in front of him. Memories flashed through Stan’s mind; Ford falling through the portal, Fiddleford finding him passed out in the lab, working together to bring Ford home again…being together. Being happy. They had been happy, if just for a little while, hadn’t they?

Then there was the cult, and his discovery of the damn memory gun that had finally ruined everything they ever built. He took a hesitant step forward, a thousand thoughts roaring in his mind at once. “Fidds? Wha-what do you remember?” A bandaged hand snaked up and rubbed over the faded scar on the side of his head “I…don’t rightly know. Did we…I think we had a fight? I just woke up in the…in the dump. N’ I don’t have any shoes. Do ya know why my arm is in a cast?” Fiddleford looked so lost.

Stan knew in his heart that all of this was fleeting- “clarity” would hit Fiddleford every few years after he had finally wiped his mind of himself. Almost like his brain was trying to jumpstart itself back together. The first time they thought it was a miracle but…it didn’t last. It just started a trend that would follow them both for the next almost thirty years. Fiddleford would seemingly “wake up” and be lucid for a few weeks in the beginning, then eventually only a matter of days. It had been so long since the last time that Stan would wager, they only had maybe a few hours together if he was lucky.

The last time Fiddleford was himself…they had fought. Stanley thought he had figured the only way Fiddleford could stay; he needed to remember. Remember everything he had ever forgotten. At the time, Fiddleford had been unwilling to try. He didn’t think he could handle it; he knew he had forgotten what he had for a reason.

Stanley had gotten as close to begging as he ever had in his life since surviving Tijuanna, and when it had no effect…Stanley had told Fiddleford to leave and never come back. He had left that night, and by the next day he had faded away again. After a while, Stan thought his last words had been the final nail in the coffin that was Fiddleford’s mind. He carried that weight along with every other mistake he had ever made. But here he was. Fiddleford. His Fiddleford.

He took a deep breath before he opened his arms up. “Hey, don’t worry, it doesn’t matter. I’m right here.” Fiddleford rushed through the doorway, melting into Stanley’s open arms. “I went away again, didn’t I?” Stan could feel Fiddleford’s tears soaking into his chest, his own whispering at the edges of his eyes. Yes, and you will leave again. You will leave me and I will be alone all over again, you fucking asshole. “Hey cowboy, didn’t I just say not t’ worry about any a’ that? You’re here now, n' that’s what matters. You’re…you’re home.” A haggard laugh vibrated through the smaller man’s chest into Stanley’s own. “I know I keep tellin’ ya, tellin’ me not t’ worry is like” “…tellin’ a fish t’ stop swimmin’; I know Fidds, I know.” Fuck was really the only conscious thought that went through his head as he held his one-time lover. He couldn’t believe he was doing this, again.

Fiddleford looked up, eyes wide and searching Stan’s face. “How long do ya think we have?” Stan shook his head, unwilling to lie even if it eventually wouldn’t matter because he wouldn’t remember. You’ve always been the only person I couldn’t lie to. “I dunno, it’s been…a while. Probably not very long.” Fiddleford closed his eyes before he said “I need ya t’ know somethin’, Stanley.” Stan started to shake his head. “Fidds, you don’t have t-” The look on the other man’s face shut Stan right up-he had always had that ability. Stan wished he didn’t miss it as much as he did. “I need ya to know that even when I’m not here…I miss you. The part of me that’s somewhere in here-” A weathered hand tapped the side of his head to emphasize his point “ misses you. I’m just so sorry, Stanley. Sorry that I’m a coward. I’m sorry that I’m not strong enough to be here all the time…but I’ll never stop tryin’. I’ll always try n’ come home to ya.”

Stan thought of the thousands of times he had chased Old Man McGucket, the neat little character that Stan had to compartmentalize his Fiddleford into when he wasn’t himself, out of the Shack. How many times he had found him curled up like a cat on the back porch. How every time they “met”, McGucket would say how nice Stan was or how good he felt to be around him “for some reason.” How many odds and ends McGucket would gift Stan from the dump for exhibits at the Mystery Shack with a large smile and nothing substantial behind his eyes.

It would be so much easier if he would stop trying to come back. Maybe the hole in Stan’s heart the size of the sweet, certifiably insane man would scab over. How many times had Stanley mourned him? How many times was he willing to hurt himself? They were now nearing their sixties, how long was he really willing to do this song and dance?

What’s one more time? he softly thought, his hand coming up to tenderly cup the grizzled face of Fiddleford Hadron McGucket. Mad scientist, friend, and unfortunately for them both…the love of his life.

“I miss you too, Fidds.”

[haine-kleine]

is it too early to say that the narrative of Jinx being Vander's daughter was an OOC characterisation used to overwrite her being Silco's daughter because they needed to speedrun her redemption without being controversial

[jedi-starbird]

No one ever tells Obi-Wan that he is his Master's padawan.

Of course, for most people who had known Qui-Gon Jinn, telling someone else they resembled the the man would in fact be a thinly veiled insult. But still, Obi-Wan feels the absence of comparisons almost as strongly as he feels the absence of his Master.

There is no one for Obi-Wan to push against now, no strong presence at his side, ready to grab him by scruff and pull him back from another reckless stunt. It's an odd feeling. He has been set loose against his wishes. There is no one to his left and Anakin at his heels, but Anakin had needed, still needs, a strong, gentle figure for his prickly but sensitive heart. For even their worst bickering could not hold a candle to the scathing remarks he and Qui-Gon had shot at each other and Obi-Wan knows he cannot push and needle Anakin in the same way.

When Qui-Gon had been alive they had been an amusing, mirrored pair, the maverick and his rule-following padawan. Opposites clashing against each other, yet working together to complete the most difficult missions. Few saw that Qui-Gon's impertinence had indeed rubbed off on his padawan, cultivated from that small, angry initiate, because the only way to rebel against the rule-breaker had been to parrot the Council fastidiously. No one would ever get to see that again. Obi-Wan is one half of a mirrored pair trying to complete a routine on his own. What once was an impish, teasing compliance is now a betrayal of all his Master's values.

"How could Qui-Gon raise such a model Jedi?" He hears them say, "It's admirable that Master Kenobi was appointed to the Council despite his Master's maverick ways."

Padawan Kenobi would have yelled and kicked and screamed. Master Kenobi is serene. It should feel like an achievement. It feels like a disappointment.

Sometimes, Obi-Wan looks at the shape of the man he has moulded himself into, and aches to be his Master's padawan.

[turtleblogatlast]

Mikey and Leo episode centered around Mikey wanting to push Leo and Draxum together since Leo’s the most reluctant to give Draxum any grace (for good reason!) But, thinking on the spot, Leo says he’s gotta go do something for Hueso and “just can’t hang out right now 😔” (yes, he says the emoji out loud.)

Mikey calls his bluff and now the three of them (Mikey having grabbed a weary Draxum along) go to Hueso’s to find that yes, he actually does have a job for him. Said job asks for Leo to go with Hueso to deliver multiple pizzas to this giant yokai quite a distance away, and Hueso figured it would probably go better with Leo’s help (emphasis on probably.)

Well, Mikey decides that this would be a great bonding opportunity for them and basically invites he and Draxum along. Unfortunately for Leo, Hueso doesn’t care enough to wave away more help, though he does side-eye the wanted criminal Baron Draxum coming with them. But who is he to judge? (This choice has consequences.)

The journey goes about as terribly as you’d expect, but at least the pizzas get delivered on time.

[gothsuguru]

thinking abt how satoru is one of the only adults in the jjk universe who can separate the child from the situation/cards they are dealt with… yuji took in sukuna as a host and he’s the only adult who sees yuji as a child/his own human being while other adults see him simply as “sukuna’s host” who needs to die. thinking abt how satoru was also one of the only adults who stepped up for yuuta and that’s one of the reasons yuuta appreciates him so much… same with when he took in megumi. at the end of the day gojo satoru is the only one in the universe that knows what it’s like to be used/seen as a weapon or Entity rather than a person and he won’t let his kids feel the same way/he’ll do everything in his power to make them feel better & actually LET them be children!