#miles and miles away

[datshitrandom]

Darren Criss - Photoshoots | 2022

[nando161mando]

[zoe-oneesama]

We did it, everyone. We chased her out of Paris.

Episode 53 Part 29 First < Previous > Next Season 1, Season 2, Season 3, Season 4, Season 5 Ep 41, Ep 42, Ep 43, Ep 44 Ep 45, Ep 46, Ep 47, Ep 48, Intermission, Ep 49, Ep 50, Ep 51, Ep 52

Bonus:

Yeah you're hella fired.

Tsundere's are so annoying irl.

Ko-fi | Patreon

[butterflyscribbles]

Working on a much larger comic but have a short and sweet moment I made as a break from it

People seemed like papa Tang so have some more📚🖍️❤️

[aesthetic-uni]

Miles “Who’s Morales” vs Gwen “Gwwwwanda” vs Pavtir “You seem like a nice young woman I do not know” FIGHT

[fictionalmenaremytype]

Percy and Annabeth are perfect for each other bc Annabeth's plans are so smart yet so stupid, and Percys plans are so stupid yet so smart.

[pandadrake]

This isn't even a meme or anything. I just wanted to make Pikmin tutorial.

If you asked my personal opinion about these characters, I'd say they are flawed people who are ultimately good and well-meaning. I'm still out here drawing slander though, because it cracks me up.

Top image references official art of Captain Olimar from Pikmin. Bottom image is a draw over of that panel from Attack on Titan Ch79

[feluart]

I just need him to be happy thank you

[majunju]

attention seeker

[hustlerose]

how on earth are you guys fucking your mutuals

[dryemiddi]

Every time I think about the Tree of Feelings I can't help but be a little underwhelmed at how the most popular depictions of it is just. the tree. on a hill. surrounded by miles of nothing but grass and maybe a few houses in the distance.

Yeah, no thanks. I'll just go with my own interpretation on this one

[feralforbeanix]

If I wasn't familiar with Ace Attorney and you asked me which one of these is an edited meme and which one is an actual line he says if you pick the wrong answer I'd be flabbergasted to hear the truth.

[whaliiwatching]

diagnoses u with fanfic tags

yeah i caved. welcome spideysona

their universe is 1990s san francisco. by day they work as a struggling writer for the bugle, sort of following in the footsteps of (movie-adjacent) eddie brock; by night they’re spider-scrawl, fighting systemic injustice, writers’ block, and the occasional mad scientist invention. his world is less rife with supernatural evils than most, but he’s also fucking with the government and corporations and all, so it balances out

their unique thing is that they have, like, shitty meta clairvoyance in the form of inherently understanding tropes, clichés, story structure, etc. like if cinemasins/wins were a superhero. they were approached to join the society because miguel thought they’d be chill or even helpful with canon events—unfortunately scribble here is not whatsoever into following rigid plot structure for the sake of unnecessary thematic suffering, saw the plot twist a miles away, and peaced. but not before snagging a day pass so they could watch atsv in person

they never take off their mask, and no one knows their name—he says it’s because he doesn’t want to lose his identity in a sea of spider-people, leading most to theorize that san-fran-spidey is some flavor of peter parker, but who’s to say for sure? the doylist reason, which he is in fact aware of, is that i don’t know either lol

[reveluvjay]

Me making sure my sweetie pie Arthur has a bath because he deserves it 💕🎀🌸

Arthur: This is the cleanest some parts of me been in weeks! 🤠

Me:

[faeriekit]

43rd Annual Gotham Academy Bake Sale

dp x dc | FosterDad!Frostbite

❄ Now available to own on video and ao3 ❄

I promised @tourettesdog a snippet of More Yetis™ ages ago and I finally finished lol

❄*❄*❄

Bruce looked up.

And up. 

...And up. 

The— parent?— glanced down at him with a fanged smile. Not— not meanly. Just fanged. As in, he had fangs. 

And thick, puffy fur. And glacial blue horns. And a soft, muzzle-esqe face, and an equally blue prosthetic arm, with what looked like his original bone structure underneath it. 

What a sight at the PTA bake sale. Bruce huffed lightly.

(Remarkably, the puff of air came out as cold steam. Huh.)

“Good afternoon,” the parent, presumably, greeted him, his voice a low rumble. “I’ve been told that the purpose of this event is to raise money for the school, so there are baked good available for purchase. Please tell me if you are interested in any of the selection.” 

Bruce watched the giant, furry parent carefully set out a crocheted blanket to serve as a tablecloth on the provided folding table, dotted the space with carefully organize tupperwares and displayed, and sanitized his— claws— before setting out little treats on round wooden trays. A stack of napkins completed the setup. 

It was a good first-time setup. Downright exotic, even, considering the setting of Gotham Academy. It had a homey, home-grown feeling that was entirely anathema to the cultivated air of the usual attending crowd. 

It was nice, though. Bruce took a picture of the table for his public instagram. 

Usually Bruce and Alfred would man a table for the younger kids, but Damian was still attending the lower school, and Duke had been opted out of participating due to…prior circumstances…which left Bruce to be an attendee rather than a fundraiser. It was kind of nice. He got to try new foods. Check things out. Meet a giant yeti. 

“They look good,” Bruce complimented, because they did. They didn’t exactly look vegan, so Damian couldn’t try one, but they did look good. “What’s this one? On the bun?” 

The giant…whatever he was daintily got himself into a folding chair. From his side-satchel came a paperback copy of Elin Hilderbrand’s Summer of ‘69. “Salmon patties on potato buns. My charge assures me that they’re perfectly edible, although we did have to shop around for a suitable vehicle with which they could be eaten.”

Alright, so the guardian had missed the boat on exactly what bake sales were supposed to consist of. So what? The food sounded good, smelled good— and for four dollars, that was a good deal. 

“Keep the change.”

They tasted good, too. “Hey," Bruce exclaimed, "This is pretty grand!”

The yeti’s eyes crinkled around the edges. The muzzle couldn’t exactly replicate a human smile, but Bruce had the distinct impression that this was the equivalent expression. “Thank you. Daniel told me that it was overkill to catch my own fish for the raising of funds, but I always prefer the taste of a fresh catch.” 

With those fangs, Bruce would believe it. He took another bite of what was probably a salmon burger. “Nothing beats fresh-from-the-sea. When I lived in London for a few months, I was very spoiled by the seafood selection.” 

The yeti’s ears swiveled upright in interest. “Oh? I will say, living in Gotham, there is a lack of interesting seafood. The shellfish grows to be as large as my arm in my home territory.” 

Well, that didn’t lower the location down to anywhere in particular. The arctic? The deep ocean? Some vast, unknown world? “Sure sounds more interesting, that’s for sure. Hey, I haven’t seen you around here before. Are you new to the school?” 

The being kindly answered his nosy-enough question. “I have taken temporary leave of my people to care for my charge. As he is mostly human, his elder sister and I came to the decision that the human plane was a better locale for him to grow up in. Gotham city simply has more volatile energy floating around.” 

Bruce’s eyebrows rose up over the rims of his sunglasses. Gotham was their first choice to raise a child in? A not-completely-human child to boot? “You sure about that?” he asked, just to be clear. “It’s not so safe here. We’ve got a guy who blows up buildings for fun. I think we’ve had the most toxic gas leaks…ever, really. I love the place, I grew up here, but man do we have problems!” 

“Hm,” the yeti hummed. “We were concerned about that. Daniel spent the first few nights beating up pickpockets, however, so I foresee that he will likely enjoy the challenge.”

As someone who beats up pickpockets, Bruce had no reliable say on the matter. He took another bite of his salmon patty. He made a note of the issue nevertheless. If there was going to be a new, half-human vigilante in his home territory, that ought to be something he stays abreast of.

“Hey! B! Over here!”

Bruce spotted Duke’s hand a head above the crowd. He waved back; his newest foster edged through the crowd of wealthy parents and their nepo-baby children to make his way over, a cupcake in his hand. “Duke! Find anything good?”

“Yeah!” Duke confirmed cheerfully, raising the cupcake in his hand. He continued his approach. “They had tamarind ones at the stand Mrs. Cheng is running! I got you one just in case you wanted to try it. They were almost out, and—“

Duke paused beside Bruce. And looked up.

And up.

...And up.

Bruce didn’t bother to hide his smile. “I’m getting to know some of the other parents here. Hey, what’re your thoughts on salmon?”

“It’s,” Duke started, thoroughly distracted by the parent’s height, “Good. Um. Hi?”

The gigantic being (he must be, what, nine feet? And balancing on that horrid folding chair the PTA shoves out every year?) roved a yellow eye down to his foster son.

“It’s very nice to meet you, young one,” the parent rumbled, cheery as anything. “My name is Frostbite. You may know my charge, Daniel. He is in his junior year.”

“Danny? Danny Fenton?”

Bruce finished off his burger with a bite. Well, there was curious tone. “Do you know him, Duke?” he asked. The tone wasn’t quite warning, but the edge was to be found in his phrasing.

Duke winced. “Yeah, we…uh. We might have gotten into a fight on his first day. And his second week. …And…last week.”

Bruce. Blinked.

“…And maybe a few hours ago. But to be fair, he has a really punchable face—“

This sounded more like Dick and Jason in their first weeks at Gotham Academy rather than Duke, who was generally better-mannered than most of his brood. (Bruce tended to chalk it up to the effect of being raised largely by loving, attentive parents.)

“But. Um.” Duke shuffled a little closer to Bruce, and a little farther away from the tallest parent to ever grace the pristine lawn of Gotham Academy. “He’s…you know. He’s fine. Usually.”

Thank goodness Alfred was across the way with Damian. He would have disapproved highly of the both of them for this slip.

Still, the gigantic creature only…huffed. Bruce would dare call it a chuckle, even. He popped a barely punctured bookmark into his novel, and gently set it to the side. “My apologies, young one; fighting is a favored form of socialization in our culture. His interest in you is likely genuinely meant, if…rough. Tell myself or his sibling if it becomes unbearable, and he’ll calm down.”

Duke’s lips twisted. “No, it’s not— It’s. Fine? I guess? We like blow off steam and stuff. When I sprained my wrist, he just punched my other arm and bought me ice cream.”

Bruce wanted to judge this kid and whatever parenting style this yeti was putting this kid through. He wanted to pass judgement so badly. But this also sounded exactly like something one of his own kids would do with someone they were friends with.

So.

So he bought a second salmon burger, took an offered bite of Duke’s tamarind cupcake (very generous), and tried to remember everything he could about his brief foray into romance novels. “Say, have you ever read any John Grisham? It’s not quite the same genre, but I’m more of a fan of thrillers myself…”

Honestly, the surreal part was that nothing untoward happened for the entire bake sale. Bruce would happily do this again next year.

[writer-room]

I think another clear theme of Spiderverse is that, as we’re told in the first movie, anyone can be Spider-Man. But in the second movie, Miguel tells us that Spider-Man has rules. Certain things have to happen, certain people have to die, certain people aren’t meant to be Spider-Man. And the message there is that, once someone makes those kinds of rules, you run. Because it’s just not true. Anyone, literally anyone, can be Spider-Man. There is no requirement. We’ve been shown you don’t even need to be bitten by a spider!

And with the amount of people comparing Spiderverse to the queer experience, this is especially important. There are no rules to being queer. There are no labels that are exclusive. There are no labels that are even required. As soon as someone says you can’t be queer in a certain way, or certain identities don’t ‘count’ for whatever reason, you need to run. They are liars. There are no rules, and there never have been. You are queer because you said so, and this is your decision alone.

If you decide you’re Spider-Man, then you’re Spider-Man. And if you decide you’re going to save everyone you can, then you will. It’s as simple as that.