#actually 12 years old or so

[stump-not-found]

mabel pines #1 hater

[diviedrawn]

Mystery Twins!! + Waddles

[floccinaucinihilipilificationa]

[phantom-does-a-thing]

Hold on I wanna talk about my OC for a hot minute

Boy had such a horrible upbringing that the moment that he was shown a little bit of comfort, an opportunity to gain some solace and get away from the horrible situation he was in, he freaked out and ran away. Boy and the farmer were both a little troubled but they would have worked out, Boy needed someone that cared for him and the farmer needed someone to care for (missing his son that either died or moved out). But Boy freaked out and left.

He got lost, he found the stronghold. The stronghold is not fit for people to stay in, its full of monsters and at this point there was nothing there. This was before the end was destroyed and the stronghold was turned into a safehouse for the people fleeing. There was NOTHING in the stronghold except monsters and despair. He died somehow in the stronghold, either from monsters, falling, starvation, or literally any other way he could have died.

And now his ghost has been trapped in the stronghold for what? thousands of years. He doesn't even remember his own name, he doesn't remember who he used to be or what his life was like. He doesn't even remember if he WAS alive at one point.

He was there when the end broke, he was there when the stronghold suddenly became overridden with people! He was there when it became abandoned again.

He tended to the farms... felt a connection to the crops and the animals. He can't leave the stronghold, sure he can go to the surface now that he's a ghost, but he can't leave the area that the stronghold is around. He's tethered to the skeleton he's long forgotten trapped in the walls.

But then he met Aro. She was running away to the stronghold too. She could see him, she could acknowledge him and TALKED to him. Something he hadn't had for YEARS. They can find solace in each other.

[starry-bi-sky]

Blood Blossom Au: Baby's First Commissioner Meeting :)

TL:DR This Post: Danny (orphan) gets poisoned with blood blossom extract by Vlad. He runs away from him and ends up under the care of one Pre-Robin Battinson Batman! Starry is loudly pushing her batdad agenda.

(Also known as "Late At Night, When The Nightingale Sings" on my ao3!)

This was a fun rough idea I've been sitting on for weeks, thinking about how Commissioner Gordon and Nightingale's first meeting might go.

---------------

Commissioner Gordon likes to think that he's adjusting to the new normal of Gotham very well, -- the new normal being grown men running around dressed like bats, in military-grade strength body armor, committing acts of vigilantism, -- and slowly, little by little, he was no longer being surprised when this new normal pops up out of the shadows like the world's most terrifying daisy. His shaving lifespan thanks him for it.

....

The kid is a surprise though.

Granted, he seemed to be a surprise to the Bat too.

There's been a string of murders lately, -- which, in Gotham, is kind of like saying there's been another storm during monsoon season. And there's just been another; in some dilapidated building down in south Gotham, with the broken, boarded-up windows and mildew-crawling walls to match. The victim is a man in his thirties, multiple gunshot wounds to the chest, left in the center of the room for the blood to pool out around him.

The place is already secured when he arrives, the building swarmed with officers and the forensic detectives. The Bat emerges shortly after he does -- or, he might've been here the whole time, hiding someplace dark and shadowy. For his own sanity, Gordon doesn't think about it too hard.

The kid is a surprise, and he appears like a bolt of lightning.

He shows up in the middle of a conversation Gordon is having with the Bat.

A whistle, sharp and loud, slicing through the air, meant for open air rather than a confined space. Gordon's ears pierce and protest the sound, and the solemn, murmured chatter floating through the room abruptly cuts off like the swing of a gavel. As he turns towards the sound -- as they all do -- he swears, up and down, that he sees Batman's shoulders jump, just slightly.

At the source, perched on the window, is a boy. A boy in a gray-blue scarf and an oversized black hoodie, one that hangs off his frame and has ace bandages wrapped around the wrists in some attempt to cinch the sleeves. The hood is up, big like the rest of it, and threatens to swallow the upper half of the boy's face whole in the fabric. What upper half Gordon can see, is smeared with some kind of opaque, black face paint. He's holding onto the side of the frame with one hand, on his hip is a grappling hook. A familiar grappling hook.

Gordon has multiple questions, and his officers tense up.

Martinez puffs up, brows furrowing as his face shapes into a frown. Shoulders rolling back. "You can't be here, kid--"

The reaction is immediate, like a spark to gunpowder, the boy yanks his fingers from his mouth and his mouth twists into a scowl. Head snapping over to Officer Martinez, his hood manages to stay on but Gordon swears that as he bares his teeth, the glint makes them look sharper than they should be. His voice is rasp and quiet and harsh; snappish in its hissing; "Put a fuckin sock in it, Martinez. I'm not stayin."

Martinez reels back, and the boy immediately veers his attention off him. Like a switch, his demeanor drops. Despite half his face being covered, his mouth twists into a cringing, apologetic smile. Slanted and off-beat, embarrassed. It'd be disarming if this wasn't Gotham, and if he didn't just hiss at Martinez like he was about to bite his head off.

"Sorry." He whispers, voice deceptively polite and softer now. Gordon has to strain his ears to hear him. "I was looking for him."

He points his finger towards-- Gordon? No, Gordon follows the direction, and finds himself looking at -- the Bat.

The Bat, who always looks stiff as a pole, now looks even stiffer. Somehow. Well, the explains the grappling hook attached to the boy's waist.

"What are you doing here?" The Bat says, gruff and unable to completely smother the stumble of surprise in his tone.

The boy still holds a sheepish smile, and slips off the window ledge. His feet hit the creaky boards with a near-silent thud, the Batman finds his feet and rapidly begins crossing the room.

Gordon notes the slight tremble in the boy's legs as he straightens. He adjusts his scarf, which droops close to his knees now that he's standing, and slings a backpack -- how long has had that? -- off his shoulders. When the Bat reaches his side, he does as he always does, and looms over the boy like a spectre. A threatening mass of shadows cloaked in all-consuming black. Standing next to him, the boy looks teeny in comparison.

The Bat is a man who terrifies even the most hardened criminals, Gordon has seen grown men shiver in fear at the mention of his name. And yet when the boy looks up at him, he doesn't even flinch.

Instead, his sheepish smile melts away like ice under the sun, holding only traces of his previous embarrassment. It remains as a shadow on his face, a small upturn at the corners of his mouth. The boy pushes his hood back just enough to reveal glinting, ice-flint eyes surrounded in tar-black face paint. He holds the backpack up with one arm. "You forgot this."

[vypridae]

"he's going to watch something dumb, xanzen do you want some content??" "SOMEBODY SEDATE ME!!!!!"

[moonlightperseus]

12 year old percy literally telling echnida to pack it up because theyve killed a few monsters already is so fucking funny

[mozart-the-meerkitten]

*rolls up 15 years late with Avatar the Last Airbender thoughts*

So I've been rewatching clips from the show lately to refresh my memory while I'm writing my Zuko Alone fanfic. And last night I rewatched the clip where Iroh teaches Zuko how to redirect lightning and I have had thoughts about this scene for years so I might as well finally throw them into the void of tumblr.

So, this scene is insane to me, because at the end of learning how he could-hypothetically- redirect lightning, Zuko looks at Iroh and, completely seriously says "okay I'm ready to try it with the real thing now". Like, Zuko, the boy with a massive scar on his face from where his father burned him just looks at his uncle and says, "shoot me with lightning".

And yes, he's 16 and not thinking but that's part of the point because the amount of blind, complete trust Zuko has in Iroh to look at him and say "shoot lightning at me" after the insane trauma he had at the hands of his own father- that is WILD to me. Zuko literally trusts Iroh so much that he just assumes, without even having to think about it, that no matter how volatile and unpredictable the lightning is, Iroh won't hurt him because Zuko cannot fathom his uncle hurting him.

And of course, Iroh's appalled because Zuko's standing there with a massive scar on his face from when his father misused firebending against him and likewise, Iroh cannot fathom hurting Zuko. And since IROH knows how volatile and unpredictable lightning is and how it could literally kill his son nephew he is absolutely NOT going to use it just to let Zuko practice redirecting lightning, but he's so flabbergasted that Zuko would even ask him that that he just kind of splutters angrily that he will ABSOLUTELY NOT shoot lightning at Zuko. (it's also just another layer of how messed up Ozai is because he shot lightning at Zuko without a second thought later)

But I hope Iroh thought about it later and realized the amount of pure, unthinking trust Zuko has in him because ;-; the child didn't even THINK about it. "Okay uncle shoot lightning at me now. I know I'll be safe because it's you." I love them so much 😭😭

[omaano]

“How’d you get stuck with babysitting duty anyway?” Boba asked one day during dinner. “Oh, I volunteered for this,” Fox told him. “Why the kark would you do that?” “Language,” Fox admonished. “Well, I was just living my normal boring life and I thought to myself, ‘I don’t get called an ugly piece of banthashit often enough.’ So I decided to adopt you.” Boba snorted. “You’re a psychopath,” he told Fox. “I’ve been called worse,” Fox replied breezily. Boba doesn’t find a new family and Fox doesn’t become anybody’s dad; an adoption story.

@bilbosmom-belladonna commissioned me to illustrate a scene from her delightful fic Trying to Escape What You Can't Let Go. She was amazing to work with and you should absolutely check out her fun little found family story!

[flutterfan2007]

Me and my bro @hamnballs as Mabel and Dipper cause we r just like them fr B)

[turtletoria]

GRAAAHHH

[reineydraws]

i have this fic series i'm still working on where mihawk sort of becomes rayleigh's kid and spends ages 11-17ish on the oro jackson.

shanks and buggy imprint on him (bugs considers him a sort of older brother figure/sparring inspiration and shanks has a crush that eventually turns into full-blown love) and this is how i imagine they're like on the day mihawk sets off on his own haha.

[locusfandomtime]

you can really tell the different audience demographics of Lifesteal vs Hermitcraft by the comment sections because the average spokeishere or whatever comment is like “LIKE THIS if you are a real Spoke fan!!! ❤️👊😎 if this comment gets 100 LIKES ill tell my mom to subscribe 🤪 who else is watching in 2028❓❓😂” whilst the average ethoslab comment is like “my wife is giving birth but this is more important”

[mikakuna]

and what happens when willis todd finds out his little boy died. he knows billionaire bruce wayne adopted jay-- the whole damn country knew.

so why. why did his baby boy get a better chance at life than willis could provide, just for him to still die before him, before he became an adult?

how could willis give up his parental rights to bruce wayne, the most privileged man on earth, expecting this man to keep his baby safe and happy and healthy-- when his little jay still died alone and scared.

bruce wayne had everything he could ever ask for. he had all the means to keep his son safe from any harm. and yet jason still died before he even reached his sweet sixteen.

willis thinks that maybe it's a family curse-- a curse he has to live with, knowing that he's failed everyone he's ever loved.

[msmc-796-official]

I... have a confession to make, of sorts. There won't ever be a good time to admit this, unfortunately, so it's best I get this off my chest now, and ask for forgiveness rather than permission.

It has not been easy speaking with all of the flashclones who have made themselves known in the wake of Union's latest raids; both for myself, and the squadron at large. I must commend my squadmates for handling themselves with the utmost professionalism - while my own correspondences with these newest members of the Omninet have been what I would consider adequately polite, I've been biting my tongue the entire time, and I fear that my personal discomfort with the issue is starting to slip through the cracks.

To this end, I wish to share my thoughts publicly, that I might better express my own emotions towards this complicated, frustrating, and highly nuanced issue. I only ask that you hear me out in full before you render judgement, and pronounce your sentence carefully.

First: an observation.

MSMC policy requires that all pilots dictate an end-of-life plan at the time of their recruitment, that their final wishes may be carried out by the company in the event of their death under MSMC's employ. The options provided for this are effectively unlimited, allowing the pilot a great deal of choice and freedom in planning their postmortem arrangements. These plans may also be altered in the future should circumstances change, provided the pilot is of sound body and mind.

Under MSMC policy, in compliance with the policies set forth by Union, one of the available postmortem options is flashcloning.

In my fifteen-odd years serving under MSMC, I have only heard of three pilots who have willingly chosen to be flashcloned after death (thus prolonging not only their life, but their term of service under MSMC as well). Of these, I have only personally met one, affiliated with MSMC-808 "5Q8R3 L00P3RZ" - I believe their current iteration goes by callsign Lemniscate. While I do not know how many times they have been cloned during their term of service, their current iteration seems happy enough, and their squadmates reassure me that they've maintained a consistent identity (plus or minus the odd quirk, as is typical of flashclones) throughout their life (lives?).

Second: a digression.

I purchased my Dusk Wing, And The Voice of Apollo Spoke From On High (Apollo for short), from an SSC showroom on a planet whose name I no longer recall. The curated atmosphere called to mind the high marble pillars and lush green-blue waters of some distant Cradle mythology where gods roamed the earth and mortals strove to emulate them, punished and rewarded for their folly in equal measure with gifts and curses beyond name. Each frame was posed as the statues of old on Cradle, too-human limbs arrayed in too-human poses, each a machine of war turned living art piece.

Apollo, true to its future name, was arrayed in flight; hover-jets draped with sunlight-yellow gossamer, veil rifle aimed in its middle tier of manipulators with the same care and precision as an archer would take with their bow. To see it lowered to the floor after its purchase was to see Icarus fall; to climb inside its cockpit for the first time, to don wax-and-feather wings of my own and fly.

The old tales caution that divinity has a cost, and I too paid the price. A vial of blood, drawn with silver needle and spirited away into an unseen cooler before my pen ever touched paper. Apollo was mine, but SSC had received a far greater gift in its place: a sample of my DNA, unwillingly donated as the price for my divine armament.

Even now, this price weighs heavy on my head like the sword which hung above Damocles, poised to drop without a moment's notice with each new Union raid on yet another forgotten cloning facility. Who can say on what distant planet the children I did not birth sleep in stasis - children with my eyes, my hair, my nose, my smile; sons and daughters who will never be called as such because, to their creators, they are slaves, weapons, property - anything but human.

Third: an explanation.

I believe that flashcloning, in its current state as of 5016u, as approved by Union's Third Committee (and exploited by the likes of SSC, HA, and several countless others across the stars) is an inherently unethical practice; both for those who donate their DNA (willingly or otherwise), as well as for those persons produced by it.

To see countless lives created, manipulated, slaughtered, and recycled in the name of so-called "progress"; to see inherently human beings stripped of every vestige of humanity but the body in which they reside and then forcibly brainwashed and molded into soldiers, medics, mechanics, weapons, machines, slaves, property - it is an abominable and inhumane practice that should have died a slow and painful death in the darkness from whence it was birthed.

This being said: I cannot stand idly by as the products of this inhumane practice continue to suffer. No matter whether it is beneath the apathetic gaze of Union, the dehumanizing bootheel of HA, or the eugenicist scalpel of SSC, I will not allow my fellow persons to endure another day of abuse at the hands of those who would abandon their own creations as little more than imperfect failures for daring to remind their creators of their sentience.

Alone, I can do nothing. I too am but a cog in this great uncaring machine humanity has built, one which prospers on suffering and bloodshed and the work of hands which have forgotten the body to which they are attached. Even if I were to risk life and limb and reputation to make my position known, it is a battle which lies dead in the water - it is impossible to halt the wheels of progress without irreparably damaging the future which relies on their turning.

And so I fight. I fight for those who have forgotten their humanity, both willingly and unwillingly, that they might find something of their own - identity, purpose, desires, connection, life - that reminds them of what they were and are and always have been: human.

-- Angel

[yhwcomeback]

REDRAW of a drawing I did when I was 12

pretty sure this was supposed to be movie Lloyd and his emo cousin or whatever ALSO THE NEW DRAG0N RISING TRAILER DROPPED I'M SO EXCITED