🎁 for Zapdos!
🎲? 👀
🎁 Zapdos is someone who will not take a sotuation seriously unless he realizes it is legitimately bad or damgerous. He lives very carefree and will shirk his duties often to act like an energized goofball somewhere else. Very few things will bring him down to earth, one of which being his lord or a child in danger. Likes raiding local power plants to absorb extra energy, says it tastes like a sprite. Power Plant workers hate him.
🎲 A comfy room, filled with all the luxuries a child might need or want. Salt air filling the small space with a pleasant aroma, a drip from metal above waking the girl. Blue eyes open as she sits up, looking around the familiar space.
“Hello?”
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a BIG part of the lore of Dungeon Meshi is how ageism is bad. About how the long lived races treat the young lived races like children and thus infantilize them and do not show them the respect and understanding they deserve simply because of their looks or short life spans.
Whether its because to them they look like children in their eyes (like half foots and gnomes) or because the adult ages of the younger lived races are still in the child ages for the longer lived ones and so they get treated/viewed as children (we see otta receive comments about getting with minors when in reality she dated adult half foot women. so we already see this view towards things like this are a thing in the lore)
We see this with chilchuck, senshi, and marcille where the two later view chilchuck as a child and treat him like one even though he is a full grown man who drinks (and is supposed to have grey hairs) all because he looks young and in the newest episode its revealed he is 29 which is still young children to the two of them.
We see how perspectives that characters are children because of their age being a childs age for a different race as opposed to their race or because they look like children is a completely infantilizing and disrespectful behavior that causes so many problems in the long run.
a theme that is completely flying over the average tumblr users head.
ive seen people get furious at other people because they sexualize chilchuck and even marcille
“oh they look like kids so dont do that you freak”
you absolute fool you missed a major theme of the fucking story. But because they look young suddenly they are children? have you paid no attention to the story? did you just ignore how the ageisim and weird mindset about ages like that causes so many issues that could easily have been avoided.
and as for the age one i see people getting furious at others for being into and sexualizing izutsumi even though she is a year past adult in tall man years, but because she isnt in the adult age range in real life (wild your applying real life society standards to a fictional medieval fantasy world). even though even in lore she would be well an adult able to get married and everything
tumblr really does have the media literacy of a toddler.
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Fanfic prompt: there are quite some fics that portray the windwaker as a literal conductor
And have wind use the abilities of the windwaker
Like the sky gets darker when he gets upset
It rains if he is sad
And it storms if he is angry
But like controlling the wind is not the only ability of the windwaker
You can change day and night with the song of passing
You can also straight up command people (command melody)
And in phantom hourglass you can control time and see ghosts
Like imagine him having an actual panic attack from the point of view of like Wild who already experienced a big calamity
Like there is a hurricane appearing
The sun and moon are fighting for their spot on the sky (till it ends up a solar eclipse)
The wind is strong enough that actual boulders are flying off the ground
And you feel something commanding you to go there (wind really wants someone to stop him )
The time in several places is going out of control
And on top of that your ghost friends are freaking out because of something
You are convinced that that is divine punishment
And that the world will end
Like imagine the sheer shock that any of the chain will experience when it turns out to be wind
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Lost and Found (dp x dc)
Alfred sighed as he looked over the wide gymnasium, thinking to himself that he shouldn’t have listened to Leslie. Community service was all well and good as a way to connect with people, but overseeing an inter-school bakery-sale-and-science-fair combined event was proving to be more chaotic than anything else.
As another child dropped yet another just-bought desert on the floor, Alfred slunk into the shadows deciding to let the clean-up be someone else’s task for once. As he got further and further from the main hubbub, the ex(?)-butler arrived near a small exit door and snuck out quitely. As the fresh air hit his face, Alfred let out a breath. Seeing so many children around had him thinking of his charge and where he could possibly be.
The older man hadn’t brought a pack, since he’s been going to a school, but in the moment he wished he had. Sighing once again, Alfred shook off the craving as he took a few steps towards the communal school garden when the sight of a black-haired boy sitting with his back to him had him freezing. A second later his brain caught up to him, reminding him that this was not young master Bruce. The crushing disappointment he felt as he recognized the boy in front of him was much to small to be his little master Bruce surprised him by its intensity.
Alfred took a moment to compose himself before he cleared his throat. The noise had the figure flinching and turning their head towards the older man. Then, as the boy caught sight of the older man, he seemed to slump. Seeing that he was unlikely to speak up first, Alfred took it upon himself to start the conversation.
“Might I inquire what you are doing outside, young man?”
The boy’s shoulder slumped even more though he still answered. “Haven’t got any sweets to sell,” he mumbled.
“Oh?” Alfred sounded out. “Why is that?”
“My cookies ate my homework so I had to put them down,” said the boy as he finally raised his head, long-suffering
But Alfred could only breathe a faint “Indeed?” as the boy’s features were exposed. The resemblance with master Bruce was so uncanny that the butler had trouble looking away. But as he examined him more closely he could see some minute differences. The boy didn’t have the sharp jawline both mister Wayne and master Bruce had shared. His nose was smaller than master Bruce’s and his eyes were paler than the darker blue passed down through the Wayne line. The sight of a face so similar and yet not quite like master Bruce had his mind jumping to the portrait hung above the manor’s fireplace and the face of the toddler sitting on his mother’s lap as a slightly older child stood beside her with his father’s hand on his shoulder.
Everyone had bemoaned the two-fold tragedy of the Waynes. First to lose their youngest son at such a young age, only to be themselves brutally murdered only a few months later. All was left of the previously illustrious Waynes was a grief-stricken eight-year-old who had just lost his brother and parents in such a short period of time. Alfred sighed as he remembered how angry master Bruce was at his inability to find out to this day what had happened to his brother. The man half-suspected this was how the young man had developed such an obsession with solving mysteries.
Once again having to focus back on the boy in front of him, Alfred smiled at the boy. Then, the boy’s word registered and the man let out an amused huff. “You had no choice but to put an end to that, I suppose. Cookies as spirited as yours would sell poorly in any case.”
“Oh you’ve got no idea,” muttered the young man as he pushed himself to his feet only for his hand to slip on the wet wood surrounding the gardening plots and falling face-first onto the hard wooden surface.
“Oh dear!” exclaimed Alfred as he darted to assist the boy in straightening up. The boy groaned in pain as he held his nose and Alfred could see drops of red falling down.
“Here,” said the older man as he handed the boy a fabric handkerchief.
“Thanks,” the teen croaked as he accepted it.
“Put your head between your knees,” Alfred instructed. “Breathe through your mouth.”
The boy offered a thumbs-up as he complied. Alfred waited patiently by the teen as he kept the handkerchief held against his nose. After a moment, the boy held it away experimentally and when he felt no more blood flowing he turned towards Alfred.
“Thanks,” he said before he looked down at the red-stained white fabric. “I can wash it and return it if you give me a return address.”
“It’s alright,” Alfred refused. “I don’t mind washing it.”
“Thanks,” repeated the boy as he handed the older man the handkerchief back, as he got to his feet, this time more gingerly. “I best get back before my friends start looking for me.”
“Be careful on the way back,” Alfred couldn’t help saying.
The boy hummed and as he turned around for a final wave goodbye, their eyes connected and Alfred felt a jolt travel through his body. Though the pale blue of Danny’s eyes was not the distinctive shade of the Waynes, it was however identical to the color of the late Martha Wayne’s eyes. As the boy opened the exit door and disappeared in the crowd of people, Alfred looked down at the blood-stained handkerchief.
He knew there was a less than infinitesimal chance. Still. What would it hurt to make absolutely sure?
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In love with the idea of captain marvel being Billy's imaginary friend. Like, it'd be so easy. Early depictions had them as almost fully separate people sometimes, like one soul with two minds, rather than just two filters like we mostly see now.
But imagine a Billy down on his luck, hurt and hiding from police and criminals alike, daydreaming the hours away as children do, taking inspiration from all the superheroes rising to fame, making little stories to play out his dreams of saving the world with a generic action doll he found while dumpster diving once. Most of the paint's rubbed off.
Red's his favourite colour, his comfiest jumper is a bright ruby even after all the grime and washes. Gold, too, it's shiny and warmer than silver! A hero cape is a must, big and eye catching! And he can fly, of course, like superman, and in his daydreams, when he's sore and frustrated after a long day's grind, his superhero is smart enough and knows all the right words to get the bullies to stop without resorting to fighting.
His superhero fantasy is one he spends a lot of time on, the first one he goes for when struggling to sleep at night, and he can picture it so clearly. Captain marvel is big and bright and kind, strong enough to lift the boxes for the old lady up the road who's moving all by himself, fast enough to catch Jamie who fell out of the tree on Saturday and broke his leg and couldn't come to class for weeks. He appears at the entrance to alleys when Billy is cornered, he steps up behind to cover for him when he gets caught shoplifting, he sits at the bus stop with him when it's pouring rain and the right bus doesn't seem to be coming.
And then the wizard comes, or rather whisks him away, and like a magician from a fairytale breathes life into his imaginary friend until Billy feels thrice his size and a million times more invincible.
From then on, captain marvel is a real hero, just like Billy is a real boy, and as one they save the whole city, and then the whole world, and get cats down from trees and help Mrs Victoria move the last of her boxes and she gives them a pinch in the cheek and cookies for the road and sometimes it hurts but it's so much better than he imagined.
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