#management life

[eydilily]

would you bite the hand that feeds you?

[justwantswafflefries]

I had a vision. Someone's probably done this already lol

[bluerosefox]

Always Favors You

Another Sibling Danny and Jason idea!!

"Are you Jason Peter Todd?!" demanded a deep and commanding tone from the strange glowing being in front of them.

All the Bats stiffened and tensed, no doubt gearing up for a fight against the being that somehow knew Red Hood's full name.

Jason, Red Hood, decided to put on a brave front despite no doubt cursing in his head and wondering how the heck did this thing know his full freaking name.

"Whose asking." he snarled out, his hands twitching for his gun when the huge glowing knight with purple flames coming out of his helmet and cape, who was riding on a nightmare looking horse while they all had been in the cave going over tonight's patrol.

The Knight didn't seemed bothered by his response nor did he even seem to care or flinch when Batman made his own demand on 'Why was he there and who was he' or when Damian unsheathed his sword and pointed it towards him. Instead the strange glowing Knight reached to it side and pulled out... A glowing scroll? Huh. (Also he completely unnerved everyone in the room when the Knight didn't even react when Batman had tossed a Baterang when he reached for his side)

The Knight opened the scroll and spoke clearly with purpose.

"Jason Peter Todd,

You are hereby invited as a special guest of honor to the crowning of our future King of the Infinite Realms.

Daniel Phantom, once Daniel Jackson Fenton, and once Daniel Austen Todd.

Prince of the Infinite Realms, the Keeper of Balance, The Peacekeeping Halfa, the Defeater of the Tyrant King Pariah Dark, The Great One, Youngest of the Ancients, Ancient of Space, The Bridge between Life and Death.

You, the half-brother of our King, have been given the highest of honors for your past actions and will be given housing and food in the Realms and Phantom's Keep, for the week long event. Personal servants and attendants will be at your disposal and a seamstress will be on hand to tailor make your attire for the Coronation.

Signed: Clockwork. Ancient of Time. Watcher of the Infinite Timeline. Kronos. Mentor and Adviser.

PS: I shall have Fright Knight ("Me" the Knight bluntly said for a second) leave this scroll along with a personal one for you from Daniel to read over and once you make up your mind sign the bottom of the scroll.

I do hope in time you will pick the right choice Jason Todd, we of the Infinite Realms would like to reward you for your actions. After all, if you hadn't gotten young Daniel away from your father that night all those years ago, we would never had gained our Prince nor be free from our once Tyrant King.

Ah, one more thing.

The Infinite Realms will always favor you Jason."

Jason felt like he couldn't breath as Fright Knight? Rolled up the scroll, pulled a letter from his side, and held out the two items for him to take.

[marblegroves]

Choice 💚💛❤️ - Life Series

Happy third life anniversary, everyone! 🎉

The song used is Choice by Jack Stauber ^^

Here are some of the still images I used for the vid 🕺

[chatlote]

This is where our story starts.

[toktopus-art]

happy halloween 👻 it's haunted house time again

[nouverx]

Vox won the hottest Hazbin Hotel character poll on twitter against Lucifer in the final round and I can't stop thinking about it I love my pathetic TV Girl he deserves it

[keferon]

Guys. Guys they’re miners. They’re tiny cogless miners. Guys

I blacked out and filled the whole three canvases with sketches of them being itty bitty goobers. Figured Imma show you some haha

[faeriekit]

I think Alfred needs his own prompt 👻(dp x dc)

Alfred had died.

(It was a bit of a waste of time— he'd been scheduled to get the boys to and from their suit fitting at this time. Now here he was; languishing. Murdered. Sulking, even.)

(How frivolous.)

As a busy man with children (an adult child) to care for, a house to maintain, and a budget to supervise, Alfred's main goal was to return to Earth, obviously. If he left Master Bruce in charge of the dusting, the man would absolutely let the unused parts of the house go into disrepair. Too impatient, his ex-ward was.

The only problem was that in this green, nebulous, and gravity-free afterlife, there seemed to be only one way out— navigating through the individual worlds that the denizens of this world have molded around themselves, until he finds a being willing to grant his wish to return.

Alfred sighed, checked for the pistol at his hip and the rifle on his back, and marched straight upwards. Or. Well. Downwards. Actually... Never mind.

[kedreeva]

These little fuckers are round gobies. They are a freshwater goby that's invasive in Michigan, and they're in the nearby lake. They're distinct from the four native species due to their fused pelvic fins (middle pic) and a big black dot at the rear of their front dorsal fin. Though some other gobies have spots on their fins, NO Michigan-native species has a fused pelvic fin. These guys are very aggressive feeders and are very good at outcompeting native gobies.

They're also extremely good at stealing bait off big hooks as people on the docks reel in their lines. In particular, the bastard in the bottom photo stole my bait two days ago, so I caught him and filleted him for Bug.

Today, after acquiring smaller hooks, I went back and got 16 more, and educated several other fishers about their invasive nature. I got two turned over to me by others, and caught 14 more myself.

One man wandered over and asked why I was catching them on purpose. It was too much trouble to explain my feelings about invasive species, so I just told him, one of them stole my bait two days ago. He stopped watching my bobber and boggled at me and goes:

"You're doing this for revenge?"

So now there's some guy in town that thinks I am exacting revenge upon fish kind for a single stolen worm.

[ptr-sqloint]

sometimes, computers are a variety of angel

[nipuni]

Ten and Missy! Our Halloween costumes 🥰

[thatswhatsushesaid]

“um, you are actually supposed to hate this character with your whole chest, the text is EXTREMELY clear that he is terrible and you should not like him”

well i like him anyway. what are you going to do about it, tell my mom?

[darkwood-sleddog]

The dog world is so allergic to “management” as a concept like “my dogs are fighting!” Separate them. “My dog runs off!” Leash them. “My dog is aggressive!” Muzzle him. “My dog destroys my house!” Put him in a secure area he can’t destroy stuff in. It is literally that easy.

[dangans-ur-ronpas]

happy pride month

[slashmagpie]

It’s quiet when the wild cards stop.

Pearl comes to a stop for the first time in hours, her body shaking, heart still pounding. She can feel the heavy thrum of blood in her veins. She stares out over spawn island and the server beyond, her breath misting in the cool evening air.

It hits her then, all at once. Impulse is gone. Her friend, her ally, the man she’d wanted to win. She’d given him everything, her resources, her totem, her time, her devotion…

And he’s gone.

The next breath in hurts, catching against something tight and sharp in her chest. It comes out shaking. She swallows hard against the lump in her throat.

Gem’s gone, too. If she’d lived just another thirty seconds she’d have survived the explosion of wild cards enough to see this quiet aftermath. Pearl could have been her friend, then, maybe, best friends again on red just like Gem had promised. If she hadn’t changed her mind again. Because Gem’s been confusing, all hot-and-cold, and Pearl’s been confused, so confused, and now she’ll never have clarity.

…They’ll never have that 1v1 either. 

The breath in burns. Her eyes burn too. The breath out catches at her vocal cords, not quite a whine, not quite a sob.

Impulse gone. Gem gone. BigB’s gone, has been gone for a while, taken by his snail, their friendly, (un)reliable, formerly nosy neighbour. Pearl remembers losing him before, gone too soon, time run out, and she’d wanted him to win, she’d wanted—

Scott’s dead. And isn’t that—isn’t that just—they’d made it to the end as a team. Just like Scott wanted. Because everybody had said they couldn’t, that they’d turn on each other like before, and he’d wanted to prove them wrong. And she still doesn’t know, really, how she feels about him. If this season has healed those wounds. If there's a part of her that will always feel bitter and sick and angry when she thinks about him. Even now, it’s still not gone. But they’d laughed, and they’d stuck by each other, and that had to mean something. It had meant something, however small.

She wraps her arms around herself, curls in around the burning ore in her chest. Her cheeks are wet. The in breath is just as ragged and broken as the out breath.

God, she feels pathetic. Completely and utterly pathetic. Alone and aching and everyone she’s fought with, fought for, is gone. Just like last time. Just like the time before. It hurts, and not in a good way, and she longs for the familiar and soothing sting of powdered snow. 

(A pain that is completely inaccessible to her in this world.) 

“Pearl!” 

She turns. Cleo’s standing on the bank, and she looks just as exhausted as Pearl feels. Pearl hurriedly straightens up, wipes at her eyes, sucks in a shaking, aching breath.

“Cleo!” 

Cleo doesn’t say anything as Pearl crosses the water towards her. She regards Pearl with sad eyes, soft eyes, and god, it doesn’t help with how pathetic Pearl feels. She draws in another painful breath, sharp in her throat, and Cleo opens her arms.

Pearl takes the invitation gladly, practically throwing herself at Cleo. Cleo is large and tall and broad and her arms are strong and warm around Pearl, or as warm as a zombie can get, at least. Pearl buries her face into the sweat-and-blood-soaked fabric of Cleo’s leotard and hiccups a sob around the glass shards of grief in her chest.

“Cleo, I’m so lost, I don’t know what to do anymore.”

Cleo hums, fingers running through Pearl’s tangled hair, and her voice catches in her throat, awkward and unsure before hardening. “I—If nothing else, we kill Joel.”

Killing Joel won’t make anything better. It’s barely a goal, nothing like help Impulse win, nothing ever so noble. (Nothing like get Scott back, nothing like protect BigB, nothing like get Bdubs—Joel—Scar to the end, it’s not—)

But it’s something. Something to latch onto, when it feels like the stillness of the world is somehow even more unstable than the chaos that had preceded it.

She swallows, pushes herself back from Cleo’s chest, looks up into Cleo’s dim green eyes. They’re rimmed with red and cushioned by deep purple bags, steely and uncertain and the last thing Pearl has to rely on.

“I agree with that. I like that, I like that thought. Okay. Y’know what, that’s fine.”

“That’s—that’s the law.”

“Alright. Fine. Let’s do that.”

And the words come out harsh, bitter, stinging her tongue like lemon juice and bile. Really, there’s nothing else to fight for, nothing else to win, not for Pearl. She’s not dead, but she’s already out of the game, all of her pieces stolen. There’s just Cleo, her old friend, her old enemy, her last remaining teammate. There’s just Cleo, and Pearl, and a half-dozen losses shattered between them.

So Pearl will sideline her grief, and take those shards, and she will do her best to kill with them. Just like everyone’s been goading her to do all season. Red in her clothes, in her eyes, in her blood, between her teeth. A stray dog that’s been ordered to attack. She doesn’t fight it anymore. There’s no point in pretending to be a person now.

After all, there’s nothing left to lose, and nothing left to win.