#because of test

[dacuslucy]

morning amelieee us australians have been having so much fun without you (tumblr is so quiet. it’s dead)

NOOOO THIS IS HEARTBREAKING

[thesefallenembers]

the problem with reading and writing leading to a strong vocabulary is that you tend to know the vibe of words instead of their meanings.

if I used this word in a sentence, would it make sense? absolutely. if you asked me what it meant, could I tell you? absolutely not.

[goomyloid]

The remorseful player

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Penelope's final gambit, you will always be famous, no matter the subtext.

[thealogie]

Breaking bad was actually only about the evils of the American health care system for 2-3 episodes max and after that it was about how a man will be so evil he’d rather start a meth empire and kill people and enact torture on his wife/son stand-in than accept help from someone who offered to give him a job with full healthcare

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

hero/villain showdown but one of them has a spontaneous medical emergency and the battle gets put on hold while their archnemesis drives them to Urgent Care

[citrispace]

Let's go together!

[wafflesrisa]

Reblogs appreciated to increase sample size!

[mrliverboy]

At least they have each other still

[cardentist]

hey, so people need to be aware that youtube is now (randomly) holding basic features for ransom (such as being able to pin comments under your own videos) in exchange for Your State ID/Drivers License, or a 30 Second Video Of Your Face.

not to pull a "think of the children," but No Actually. I've been making videos as a hobby since 2015 (and I've had my channel since middle school), I was a minor when I started and I'm not sure I would have understood the kind of damage something a seemingly simple as a video of your face can do.

this is a Massive breach of privacy and over-reach on google's part No Matter What, but if they're going to randomly demand a state ID or license then they absolutely should not allow minors to be creators.

google having a stockpile of identifying information on teenagers is bad enough, but the Alternative of recording your face and handing it over to be filed away is Alarming considering it opens the gates for minors who Aren't old enough to have a license.

and yes, there is a third option, but it's intentionally obtuse. a long wait period (2 months), with no guarantee of access (unlike, say, the convenience of using your phone's cameras for either of the other two), with absolutely No elaboration on what the criteria is or how it's being measured.

it's the same psychological effect that mobile games rely on. offer a slow, unreliable solution with no payment to make the Paid instant gratification look more appealing (the "payment" in this case being You. you are the product being offered).

and it's Particularly a system that (I think intentionally) disadvantages people who don't treat their channels like a job. hobbyists or niche creators who don't create regularly enough or aren't popular enough to meet whatever Vague criteria needs to be met to pass.

markiplier would have no problem passing, your little brother might not be able to. and while Mark's name is already out there there's no reason why your little brother's should be too.

something like pinned comments may seem simple, you don't technically Need it. but it's a feature that's been available for years. most people don't look at descriptions anymore. so when there's relevant information that needs to be delivered then the pinned comment is usually the go to.

for my little channel that information is about the niche series I create for. guides on how to get into the series, sources on where to find the content At All (and reliably so). for other creators it can be used for things Much More Important.

Moreover, if we let them get away with cutting away "small" features and selling it back to you for the price of your privacy, then they Will creep further. they Will take more.

Note: I have an update to this post here: [Link]

[qualityrain]

[apatheticsunday]

Cartoons and Cereal

AKA "Dick Grayson adopts recently de-aged Danny Nightingale. He doesn't anticipate Danny being a little... not entirely human." Prompt idea! Might be a multi-part series. :)

Dick never thought he'd be a parent at the age of 22 but the moment he saw Danny's feral little snarling face at the Bludhaven precinct, it's like he turned into Bruce Wayne. In more ways than one. Dick vividly remembers giving Bruce a heart attack by jumping from the manor's upper balcony onto the chandelier, how he cackled in glee at Bruce wide-eyed expression of terror. Watching Danny float off the couch and then drop in mid-air probably has Dick making the same expression as Bruce in that moment.

The frying pan clatters to the stovetop, pancakes flopping out, as Dick swings over the kitchen island and flings himself over the sofa - just in time to catch Danny before he brains himself on the coffee table. Dick doesn't catch himself before he releases a loud, terrified and relieved, "Fuck!" Danny immediately gasps and loudly proclaims sw'ar jar, sw'ar jar!

"I know, bud. I-," Dick squeezes Danny to his chest. His heart is still beating unbelievably fast and his palms are sweating. "Just give me a minute, okay, buddy?" This has to be some kind of revenge for all the stuff he put Bruce through as a kid. Danny squirms as Dick thinks about the next steps: obviously, he has to test for the meta gene, register with the state, and maybe get in touch with Clark about teaching Danny how to control his flying ability. But Clark will tell Bruce and Dick hasn't even told Bruce-

Danny bites him. Dick yelps, dropping the kid onto his sofa again, and thinks this is definitely payback as Danny cackles. Danny reaches his arms up and grins with a menacing little twinkle in his eye that definitely means pick me up so I can bite you again. Dick resists despite how cute (and terrifying) his kid looks. Then, he smells something burning. Specifically, their pancakes, which are now scattered on the floor and on the burning stove coils.

"Ah, shoot. I'm sorry, bud." They both stare at the burnt pancake before Danny starts poking the floor pancakes. Well. There goes the last of the instant pancake batter. After stopping Danny from eating the floor pancake (multiple times, eventually stacking a couple of his gym weights on top of the trash to Danny won't go digging in it), Dick proposes breakfast at the little brunch place downtown. Danny only grunts in answer because he's too busy struggling to lift the lid of the trashcan.

Haven Coffee it is.

He probably should've expected somebody to take their picture, but seeing the image of Dick and Danny plastered on the Gotham Herald's website makes his blood run cold. It's almost like a horror movie. Reading the news article (Golden Boy Richie Grayson following in his father's footsteps with adopted son Daniel Grayson... recently orphaned son of renowned scientists... suggesting a custody battle between absentee godfather and Gotham's Golden Boy...), Dick feels sick. He's never been violated like this in Bludhaven. In Gotham, as Bruce Wayne's son? Sure. In Bludhaven, as Dick Grayson? Never.

The picture is just as damning (and beautiful. Dick would frame it, keep it in his wallet and tucked into the mirror of his car, if it weren't such a violation of his and Danny's privacy). Dick and Danny look like they've lived together for years. Danny, chocolate smear on his cheek and looking up at Dick with sparkling sugar-crazed eyes. And Dick, propping the kid on his hip while they walk to the car, looking down and thumbing at the smear with such adoration that it's clear to anybody looking Dick loves his son dearly.

(Maybe Dick will frame it. He's still going to sue the shit out of Gotham Herald, but Danny's tiny face looks the happiest he's ever been. Double chocolate chip pancakes tend to do that.)

He's almost, almost surprised when his phone starts ringing as soon as he finishes the news article. Afterall, Dick is hardly the only one who reads the news and he knows half his siblings have alerts set for anytime their names pop up in civilian or vigilante identities. Tim's caller ID pops up, quickly followed by several texts from Barbara, Steph, and Duke. He knows Jason and Damian will probably take some time before reaching out. Dick feels a small twinge of guilt for not telling them, but they have a... complicated relationship. Dick has always been more of a parentified figure, solidified more so when Dick stepped in as Batman for a time, than a sibling.

Danny huffs out a heavy sigh on the couch next to him. He's still asleep from his sugar crash earlier, cuddling with his elephant Zitka and dog Haley, as Scooby Doo plays softly on the TV. Dick gently combs Danny's hair back from his face - grimacing slightly at sticky chocolate stuck to a couple strands, how did he manage that?? - when his phone dings for the last time.

This was the text Dick was waiting for.

Dinner tonight at 7pm. Bring Daniel.

Dick glances back to the grumbling lump beside him, smiling slightly as he tickles one small socked foot sticking out from the blanket. He gets a little bunny kick and a louder grumble for the trouble. Another ping and Dick's lips twitch at the hastily added Please. It looks like Alfred beat some common sense into Bruce after all.

He types back K and tosses his phone onto the coffee table. Pats the lump. "Danny, are you up for meeting grandpa?"

It's time to face the music.

(Danny sleeps for another thirty minutes before Dick can't resist bugging him, enduring bunny kicks and tired grumbles. It takes bribing Danny with Alfred's cookies and pizza for dinner to get him out of the blanket nest. Dick hastily calls Alfred to please, please, please make cheese pizza for dinner. Yes, Alfred, really, just cheese. Oh, god, thank you. See you later tonight. They have just enough time to wrestle an owl-eyed Danny into the bath and some non-chocolate-smeared clothing before dinner.)

[morganbritton132]

When Steve was a kid sleeping over at Tommy’s house, he would periodically check in with Tommy’s parents to make sure they (1) still liked him, (2) didn’t want him to go home, and (3) didn’t think he was being loud and annoying.

Very clearly things someone (his parents) had said to him so Tommy’s parents always patiently reminded him that they (1) love him, (2) love when he’s here, (3) think he’s no louder than their boys and he’s definitely not annoying.

He kinda grows out of it as he got older but it always comes back when those boys were up to no good.

Maria Hagan is in her kitchen, scrubbing mud out of one of her son’s cleats when she hears the front door open and then ease shut. Tommy calls in a very measured voice that they’re back from a school friend’s birthday party and are going to bed. This is followed by - “Steve, don’t-“

It’s really the only warning she gets before Steve is next to her, thirteen and smelling like he swam in a pool of beer. She opens her arms and he falls into a hug, asking, “Are you mad at me?”

“Of course not, sweetie,” She tells them, giving Tommy a look when he reluctantly comes into the room. “But you’re grounded. Both of you.”

Maria watches her fifteen year old and his friends act suspicious at the family reunion they’re hosting, disappear, and come back red-eyed and giggly. Ten minutes later, her husband comes up to her and informs her that the kids are high, “Steve asked if I was disappointed in him.”

“Did you say yes?” She asks and gets only silence back. She wouldn’t have been able to say yes either. It doesn’t stop her from calling her husband a, “Coward.”

There’s a fallout in Tommy’s friend group and one less mouth at her kitchen table. She tries not to let it feel like she’s lost a son.

Life goes on. A couple years go by. And then she’s walking out into the emergency room lobby to alert Eddie Munson’s family that he’s going to surgery and - “Steve?”

“Oh, uh. Hi, Mrs Hagan.”

She ignores that he hasn’t called her that since he was five years old because there are cuts on his neck, bruises. He’s dirty and bleeding. She says, “Sweetie…”

And it’s all she needs to say before she has her arms full of dirty teenager. He squeezes her tight, shoulders shaking, asking, “Do you hate me?”

She hugs him right back, “Never.”

[damianito]

I forgot i had this on the basement

[socialbutterfly19]

I can buy myself flowers and I can hold my own hand cause no one can love me better then I can

[lithuea]

05.04.33