#inheritables

[justdreamsandmusic]

something I did with a sideways scan of the moon candle my Grandma may she rest in peace (or her daughter, my Aunt?) used to have and a moon shaped stamp? whatever. that I found

my aunt let me have the candle, a year ago when my Grandma died. too soon to scan it, just in case.

[chiptrillino-art]

(ID in ALT Text) Happy very, very late Mother's Day!

I am not saying that zuko is sokkas substitute for kya. or they look in any way similar! The whole concept here is that something was happening at the moment, be it how they were laying in bed, how the hair pooled over the pillow, or how sokka was able to hold onto it. It just brought sokka back. It triggered a memory, and suddenly he relived a brief memory. Making him suddenly miss his mother again. hope you enjoy!

[transassdemon]

[My art, don't steal, tag if reposting]

[crumb-crumblet-s-crumbington]

[espeonkin]

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

the fact that languages change over time is so funny to me. we have thousands of language that work perfectly well, but no that's not good enough, we need to keep fiddling with them. no not making them better, just making them different. why? well, humans enjoy making up words and phrases. for fun. enrichment activity

[lemon-lime-behavior]

Choo choo I boarded the fankids train

[eaissilyy]

A kinder mother would sure seek her sons, even if it was her who abandoned them.

(Just a Thought of Marika in ragged clothes and covered in veil, unfortunately didn’t hide her grace, descending down to the shunning ground she made to cage her rage and grief from the time long past, just to see her sons who she refused to hold and look at their births. SADLY THAT’S NOT WHAT HAPPENED AHUGHGAHHHHH)

[inkpotsprite]

DAMIAN

[chloesimaginationthings]

IDK what William Afton expected to happen in FNAF..

[multiversal-pudding]

I love that it’s technically fully canon compliant characterization that Danny A) once asked if seals were dogs because they bark, and simultaneously B) knows how to successfully land a space shuttle at 14 bc he does simulations online constantly. Truly one of the most Characters of All Time.

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Heritance

There's not much left for Tim in his parents' wills. Or, well, not much by his standards - the rest of the family, barring Bruce and Damian, think he is absolutely loaded and too full of himself to care. Which is maybe a little bit true; receiving about a dozen properties across the world, a trust fund and a wide collection of artifacts that his parents have accumulated through years of their archeological escapades is a lot by middle class standards.

But Tim knows how much money Drakes actually had, and a few old houses and an assembly of junk seems like not much in comparison.

In any case, it's all rather useless in Tim's position. He has no interest in traveling aside from when he has to for a mission, and he couldn't give less shits about archeology even if he tried. The trust fund is fine, he guesses, but it's not like he needs it, what with being the CEO of Wayne Enterprises and one of the Wayne Wards.

So, as morbid as it is, the best reaction he can muster at his inheritance is a shrug and a mention in his mile-long list of 'things I need to figure out when I have time'. Which basically means he'll maybe get to it when he's old and retired, and not any sooner, because Tim Drake the CEO and Red Robin the vigilante are both very, very busy people who never have time.

Naturally, his life has other plans, and it's only two or three months later that Tim finds himself breaking through the balcony window of his own apartment in Praha.

It's at that moment, when he's lying on top of a soft persian rug, surrounded by glass shards and wondering if this move was enough to lose his tail that he realizes his inheritance might be slightly more than just a few properties and some boxes with old things.

Because, through his own heavy breathing, he hears a thoughtful, slightly sarcastic voice from inside the room, "I guess the door was too hard to figure out for you, wasn't it."

He sits up, turning his head so sharply it almost snaps. His eyes immediately fall on a boy not much older than him, sitting with one leg thrown over the other on the dark red couch near the wall. He looks like he clearly belongs here: white, vintage collar shirt and black, high-waist trousers, a silver ring on his thumb that looks too old to have been bought in this century, dark raven hair and perfect porcelain skin.

And he is reading a newspaper. Like a slightly bleeding costumed guy in a domino mask breaking the window and falling onto the carpet is just another Tuesday.

Hold on, this is Tim's house! He double-checked the address, there's no mistake!

"Who are you?" He demands, frowning, as his hands reach to the birdarangs out of habit.

"Keeper of Doors," the boy answers, not looking up and flipping the page, "And you're the Drakes' heir, I assume."

Tim blinks. The response provides no actual answers, it only creates more questions. "What doors?" He asks because the rest of the points can most likely be addressed later. Like the issue of his busted secret identity, right.

The boy sighs and closes the newspaper, folding it in half and uncrossing his legs to sit a bit straighter. "Doors, capital 'D'. The ones that lead everywhere you want."

"The what?.." Tim repeats, dumbfounded and lost in this unexpected nonsense. The boy gives him a truly unimpressed look, his eyebrow twitching. Then, he stands up - Tim's fingers close around the birdarang again - and steps towards the nearest door, grabbing the handle. His feet make absolutely no sound.

"Drake manor," the boy announces and pushes the door open. He doesn't step through, however, instead just standing in the doorway and turning back to Tim, gesturing for him to look.

Tim does.

Seeing the familiar hall, the one he's seen so many times, the one he walked through every day before he moved out, makes him realize a few things at once. One, he needs to revise the list of houses he inherited since it looks like they are not just properties but a map of teleportation points, most likely. Two, his parents knew full well he didn't need the trust fund, it wasn't for him, it was probably for this boy, who may or may not be the, well, gatekeeper. Three, if the first part of his inheritance turned out to be this, he is going to need to call in Zatanna to sort through the collection of his parents' artifacts lest something turns out to be actually cursed in there.

Four, he's been staring at the boy and gaping like a fish for longer than its socially acceptable.

"...What's your name?" He asks, suddenly conscious about the fact he was kind of rude before. The boy snorts, a ghost of a smile on his lips as he closes the door back.

"Danny," he introduces and snaps his fingers. The glass shards around Tim move all at once, rising from the ground and going back towards the window, like a reversed video recording. A second later, the balcony window looks as good as new, not a crack in the glass. "And you?"

"Red Ro-" Tim starts, but then pauses. Fuck it, he might as well, "Tim."

Danny waves his hand in the air, like snatching something out of nowhere, and, just like that, there's a box that looks suspiciously like a first-aid kit in his hands.

"Nice to meet you, Tim. Now, get over here and stop ruining my carpet with your blood."

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Thanks for listening to my sad backstory. Anyway, here's Wonderwall.

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[demigods-posts]

okay, but percy being poseidon's kid gives him so many advantages that we probably never thought of. like, this boy can probably chew ice like it's no one's business, and not hurt his teeth. he can probably drink straight from the ocean without having to boil it beforehand. he has never choked on his spit in his life. he can probably run on wet, slippery floors and not fall. like, the possibilities are endless. i deadass would love a list.

[vasira96]

i do not want an AI to summarize texts sent to me, i do not want AI to write an email for me, i do not want AI to replace human connection, and the fact that it's advertised to do that (minimize human contact) like it's a good thing makes me insane, actually