#protective uncle

[forest-watcher-tighnari]

Um. How would I go about healing bruised ribs? A hypothetical question, of course. - @lucienaskblog

…Lucien.

First of all, you need to avoid wearing a binder for at least two to six weeks while they heal. In fact, I would suggest that you get a larger one, and be more mindful of how long you’re wearing it in the first place. And that’s only to be used after the healing period is over, mind you.

In terms of healing, there’s not much that you can do. You can ice any swelling on and off for the first few days, sleep more upright than you normally would, and take pain meds—but all of those things are just to manage the pain, not speed up the recovery,

…And for good measure: @kavehaskblog

[dcxdpdabbles]

Jason: I can't make sibling game night.

Dick: Give me ONE good reason why you can't! We've been planning this for months Jay!

Jason: I know, and I'm sorry, but Danny caught the flu.

Tim: Who's Danny?

Jason: My son-

Damian: I am a UNCLE!? You have sire a child and have yet to introduce me to my nephew!?

Jason: I-

Damian: How old is the child!? Have I missed his first steps? Words? *Gasp* HAVE I MISSED HIS FIRST LAUGH!?

Jason: Danny isn't a infant he's five-

Damian: Five!? I have missed five birth celebrations and holidays, and who knows what else!? All because of you!

Jason: I just adopted Danny! I found him beaten black and blue in the dump. I think some asshole was trying to kill him. My men are searching the city.

Tim: I think it would be a good idea to replace Sibling Game Night with Sibling Man Hunt instead. I think we owe it to Danny for meeting him so late to Hunt down the asshole who attacked him. All in favor?

Damian/Duke/Cass/Steph: Yes!

Tim: Dick, are you opposed to-wait where is Dick?

Jason: He ran out the window as soon as he heard what happened to Danny. My guess is that he wants to find the asshole before you so he can put him into the ground. Don't look at me like that, Dick's always been bloodthirsty and violent. He just hides it better.

[chio-chan2artbox]

Not on Perry’s watch

Human!Bill's design reference

[randomness-is-my-order]

while reading the books, i remember wei wuxian’s relationship with jin ling hitting me especially hard. i was crying when the whole stabbing thing happened. but i truly adore what becomes of them and do you know why? because jin ling does something the others could never, something miraculous really––he actually unlearns the prejudice he’s been taught to hold against wei wuxian. he meets wwx, full of disdain, slowly learning about who wwx really is and it has nothing to do with wwx’s outward appearance. and when the truth is revealed, the internal warring for jin ling is plainly portrayed and even if he does give in to a hate intermingled with grief that he has internalised towards this one entity (wei wuxian was never a person in his mind, just the ‘killer’ of his parents, a phantom, before the events of the book happened), you can tell his heart has already turned, that it will keep turning and that’s what happens. you have jin ling, an orphaned child, who hated someone whom his mother loved dearly, because that man caused his parents’ death but it is such a commendable thing that wei wuxian was able to create a space in jin ling’s heart and jin ling was able to accept it. it’s the way both jin ling & jiang cheng blame the death of their parents on wwx but only the former was able to see wei wuxian clearly and actually forge a bond of love with him.

it’s the fact that if ANYONE in this story can actually rightfully hold a grudge against wei wuxian, it’s jin ling, but instead this teenager decides that wei wuxian is much too good and that having him as an uncle is lovely, after all.

[erinwantstowrite]

ok ok ok last doodle for today but it was so important to me to draw these

[hitlikehammers]

The One Where Wayne Munson KNOWS BETTER Than to Lend Air to IDLE GOSSIP

(and does it anyway on accident and ends up thinking his 💕boy's boy💕 might be ✖️stepping out) ——(1/3)

Wayne Munson’s lived his life mostly free from the hubbub of small town gossip. Some was unavoidable in his tiny holler as a boy; more was part and parcel to the service, and plain keeping half-sane in war—anything for a distraction. After all that though, Wayne’d had more’n his fill of even a teaspoon of hearsay, and compared to where he came from? Hawkins, Indiana was small potatoes for keepin’ his nose clear out of it.

Which is all to say he don’t mean to collect any of the latest scuttlebutt on his way just to town after he gets off his shift with the sun barely a glimmer, just past 5 for Leah’s to be open for a better cup-o-joe than the sludge he gets on the floor. All he wants is a hot nightcap because he knows damn well his boy didn’t pick up more grounds before Melvald’s closed last night, and Wayne doesn’t want to see his bed until he’s had a full mug of fair-to-middling coffee.

And honest: he don’t think that’s more than he’s earned to ask.

But it is more than he bargained for signing’ up to, when he sees the only other people in the diner at this hour on a Saturday.

Because the only other people are a girl he don’t know, though he can’t see her real well from the back, which only really means he sees her coffee date full-on and much too well in exchange because they’re leaned in and they’re being all touchy across the table, voices low but not too low—he don’t think they even noticed him come in, let alone come to wait close enough to hear ‘em while he insists on saving the lovely Leah herself the trip to a table when he can damn well carry his own drink, thanks kindly.

“You’re gonna have a coronary if you keep hiding this.”

The girl sounds…she sounds the way Wayne remembers his Mamaw sounding when she was about to hit his Grampy up the head over some harebrained such-and-such. Exasperated, but all from a deep well of unshakable loving.

Which is what perks up Wayne’s attention, and then churns his insides quick right-next, because—

Well. The boy this young lady’s being all over-fond at for his antics is Steve Harrington.

Who, for all that Wayne understands, is meant to be his boy’s boy.

“No, no,” Steve’s shaking his head, tone bowstring-taut; “I’m gonna tell him.” Kid sounds resolved for all of half-a-second before he’s groaning, running hands over his face: “Or, I mean—”

The thunk of the boy’s head to the tabletop clatters the cutlery, and if Wayne weren’t already clued into their conversation, he’d be wholly absolved for dropping eaves given how the noise echoes through the mostly-empty establishment bar-to-door.

“Dingus,” the girl says, and it drips with concern, with affection, with a deep choler that, again, sings loud of married-couple.

Which twists Wayne’s guts all the more to hear.

Because she’s talking to Wayne’s boy’s boy.

“I’m gonna, I promise,” Steve sounds not unlike a man on his way to the gallows, even more when he sighs deep as anything and traces out his lips with his fingers, hands shaky even out the corner of Wayne’s eye for a distance as he hisses low:

“Fuck.”

And Wayne, see, he don’t like borrowing trouble. He meant it about keeping his nose clean of the gossip and the hearsay. So he makes sure he reminds himself good in his own head that he don’t know the facts here, and jumpin’ to conclusions don’t do no favors to nobody.

It don’t do nothing for the way that what he does know, what he sees and hears with his own god-given senses in the now, don’t add up too kindly for the Harrington boy.

Not least because it seems to be adding up poor indeed for Wayne’s boy.

“Do you think he’ll—”

“Steve,” the girl’s voice goes softer, but also frantic almost, as Wayne sees her reach across the way and gather Steve’s hands with a familiarity to the motion that wouldn’t make sense unless…

Unless they’re something special to each other.

Wayne’s watched Eddie reach out for Steve that way. He’s watch Steve do the same. So it…it just don’t make sense—

“You’re shaking,” the girl says, all kinda pitiful, and Wayne’d seen it before, but now he chances a look again and: oh.

Boy’s a leaf in a cyclone.

“It’s a big deal,” Steve rasps out near under Wayne’s ability to hear it.

But he does hear it.

“You need to just lay it out,” the girl tells him, earnest now and more of that than any irritation, any frustration put-upon or otherwise; “be up front with him.”

And it ain’t fair, yet, even if all the signs are pointing that direction; but Wayne likes Steve. He doesn’t want to think the worst of him. And he doesn’t, really, in his heart, think Steve could do or be the worst, from all he’s learned and seen—Wayne’d had uncharitable thoughts about it he kid, before he knew better, based on hearsay which one more time, he don’t countenance as a rule, and he’d been taught better and quick from the second he saw Steve at his nephew’s bedside, and heard the only thing he’s proud and happy to have dropped in upon uninvited:

You nearly fucking died yourself dragging him out, Steve, what the hell—

That Henderson squirt, scolding Steve something fierce.

So Wayne reminds himself this boy loved his boy enough to risk himself to bring Eddie home. Before they were anything to one another. And Wayne knows damn well they’re both something to each other, now. It don’t make sense that Steve wants to…be up front about a notion with Eddie that could hurt.

But then: care can look a lot of different ways, and can change over time. Ain’t nobody to fault for that. And much as Wayne can’t quite believe the Steve he’s gotten to know these past many-months could swallow hurting his Eddie…

Wayne’s been proven incorrect about people more than enough in his life to know better than to think it’s impossible to be wrong about a man’s heart.

“Oh, I’m sure that’ll go over fucking fantastic,” Steve’s huffing, rolling his eyes—apparently he don’t want to be up front with the person they’re talking about. Wayne tries to remind himself that they’ve not flat out said it’s Eddie yet. Wayne shouldn’t go making assumptions.

“Why not?” the girl’s pressing him. “Be honest, with him,” then her tone does go a little judgemental; “you can’t honestly think he doesn’t suspect—”

“I really don’t think he does,” and it’s a strange thing, because no matter the words themselves, it don’t sound like Steve’s meaning to be deceitful about a thing. Kinda sounds a little like he’s mourning, like he’s just in a kind of pain. “If he did, then at least maybe I’d have some kind of,” he waves his hand in the air, looks frantic, at loose ends all around; “heads-up for where his head’s at.”

And they’re both quiet for a spell, and Wayne looks for Leah in the back, knew she was getting food ready and was happy to wait—for better or worse with the conversation he’s been privy to without permission unspooling at his side—but he’s starting to feel antsy for all that he’s hearing, and the way he can’t quite tamp down associating it all with Eddie, with touchy things Steve might have to tell Eddie—

“Tell him by the end of the weekend.”

And now: think he might have to tell, encouraged so damn strong and single-minded by his lady friend with her hand on his arm.

“That’s fucking tomorrow!”

“End,” she’s narrowing her eyes sharp enough Wayne notices more in the shift of the room than to see it head-on; “of,” and then she’s smacking Steve’s arm to emphasize hard enough it rings out; “the weekend.”

Then Wayne notices how her posture shifts, and she leans closer again, so much affection, and easy with it, and welcome for it, no doubt about it:

“I don’t like seeing you like this,” she says low and earnest; “especially not when the thing you’re like this about is,” and then her tone shifts to something bright, near-on hopeful, even:

“It’s such a good thing, Steve.”

“I mean,” Steve mumbles, kind of miserable really; “of course you think so.”

And Wayne don’t like where his head goes for things the girl who’s watching Steve with such soft eyes might think to be good, might think while she’s touching him so close and —

“He’ll,” and she huffs a touch before going all heartfelt again: “Eddie is going to—”

And the moment his plausible deniability about the subject of the discussion is gone, Wayne gives up waiting for his coffee at the counter and…retreats to the corner by the door, far as he can get from whatever’s said next. He’d leave, honest, but the truth of the matter’s this:

He can’t be expected in good faith to figure out how to bring any of this up with Ed if he don’t have no caffeine in him.

☕ 👀 ���

✨ part ii >>>

For @thefreakandthehair, who requested 'Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.' at my HOBBIT-STYLE BIRTHDAY MONTH PROMPT FEST—and since this is almost a YEAR LATE, could I possibly offer it as a normal-amounts-of-late birthday gift, more than as an egregiously-and-unforgivably-late prompt fill for you?

✨permanent tag list: OPEN (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @askitwithflours @awkwardgravity1 @bookworm0690 @bumblebeecuttlefishes @captain--low @depressed-freak13 @dragoon-ze-great @dreamercec @dreamwatch @estrellami-1 @finntheehumaneater @goodolefashionedloverboi @grtwdsmwhr @hiei-harringtonmunson @hbyrde36 @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @live-laugh-love-dietrich @mensch-anthropos-human @nerdyglassescheeseychick @notaqueenakhaleesi @pearynice @perseus-notjackson @pretend-theres-a-name-here @pukner @ravenfrog @sadisticaltarts @samsoble @sanctumdemunson @shrimply-a-menace @slashify @stealthysteveharrington @swimmingbirdrunningrock @theheadlessphilosopher @theintrovertedintrovert @themoonagainstmers @theohohmoment @tillystealeaves @tinyloonyteacups @tinyplanet95 @warlordess @wheneverfeasible @wordynerdygurl @wxrmland @yourmom-isgay @1-tehe-1

NOTE: it's important to me that you know that Wayne's accept belongs to nowhere, and is just the voice of someone I knew as a kid, who also sounded like a little of everywhere and then again nowhere. so if you think some turn of phrase doesn't fit what you think you're reading in terms of dialect? it's just that this way of stringing words together is—with intention—its own amalgam of places and times

divider credit here and here

[choochooboss]

How to smile (feat. Marnie!)

Later...

A silly comic from last July, inspired by Ingo's in game dialogue in Masters EX! Hope you enjoyed it!

[vaguely-concerned]

the fact that taash genuinely thinks lucanis is so fucking cool (despite the fact that they like. know him personally and are aware that he sleeps in the pantry among the onions and the turnips lmao) is so adorable and so hilarious

[saturnsconstellation]

Barty Crouch Jr would be the uncle that would rant to 6 year old Luna about his issues with Evan while she paints his nails pink and puts hello kitty hair clips to hold his hair back, and then he would 100% follow her advice.

He’d be THAT bitch and that’s why he’s Luna’s favorite. (I’m kidding) (or am I)

[lei-llustrations]

jc can't escape his fate of becoming a milf

“Sorry Jin Ling, he’s OUR uncle now” He is irresistible to all, the platonic Mumcle energy is too strong even apart from him being a MILF

[starcurtain]

Just caught up with Natlan's archon quest and lord help me, I have a burning need to see Alhaitham and Ororon interact.

I truly feel that they would vibe perfectly. Not in a ship way, but like, in the way of Kaveh quietly wailing: "For archons' sake, he's brought another tacky thing into the house. Traveler, please do something; they've been staring eye to eye over the coffee table for like an hour now but haven't said a single word. I don't know what to do. Send help."

[alicethenobody]

The amount of mischaracterization that happened to both Nero AND Dante in the fandom because of one cutscene at the beginning of DMC5 needs to be studied like lmao.

[shovellyyy]

Uncle Sukuna, aka Mr Billy Badass of the Itadori family, hates when people mess with his family.

He'd never admit it out loud, though. He'd rather choke on a nail than tell anyone.

He teased and proded at Jin's patience since day 1. In high school, never hesitating to leave puffs full of glitter in his locker, or draw on his face in his sleep.

If anyone else were to do those things, or dare say a word about him, he wouldn't hesitate to do even worse. He'd throw their textbooks over the roof of the school and fill their lockers with slugs.

He felt insatiable pleasure in watching their faces contort in agony or fear while they lived through what's the most embarrassing moment of their high school careers.

He just didn't expect his protectiveness to grow in tenfold when he got a nephew.

Yuuji was a child too good for the world, truly. He was nice to everyone, albeit as naive as a 5 year old is of course. Even as a baby, he was as jolly as one could be.

When he started kindergarten, Yuuji unfortunately learned that not other kids were so nice. It was a lesson for Sukuna too.

As he was picking Yuuji up from school one day in place of Jin, he noticed Yuuji had unusual scuff marks on his face.

"What happened, brat?" Sukuna asked after he buckled Yuuji into the bumper seat.

Yuuji was silent, but before he could speak, he began to sob. "Y-yoshino hit me because I asked him t-to play catch!"

Sukuna prided himself on his control. He was an adult, of course.

He had just never experienced the amount of rage as he's feeling now.

He tells Jin what happens when he gets home before dinner, and Jin talks to Yuuji about it. They decide to talk to the principal the next morning. Sukuna insists on going no matter how much Jin tells him it's unnecessary.

Unfortunately, the principal is a tad less than helpful. Sukuna would've preferred more flare, but instead he just calls this Yoshino kids parents for a meeting.

In an instant, Sukuna sees where the brat gets it from. The kids dad and mom both showed up, and yet only the dad is speaking.

"I doubt he meant it. I mean, why should he play with someone who's not as skilled as him?"

Really? All that confidence in a 5 year old over one fucking game of catch?

Sukuna let his body speak for his brain. He remembers it in flashes:

1. He's standing up.

2. There's screaming.

3. The guy is on the floor with a busted nose. (Probably broken)

4. Sukuna's being dragged out by Jin.

He comes to when they're in the car. It appears that Jin decided to pick Yuuji up early from school while they were there.

Yuuji's babbling happily over something he and his friends Megumi and Nobara crafted during art time.

Jin, on the other hand, is glaring out the windshield.

"You can't just do that, Ryomen." Jin mumbles quietly enough so only Sukuna can hear.

Really, he doesn't give a fuck.

"I'd do it again."

[chio-chan2artbox]

Inspired on the Outline “Seeing doble” by @mammalsofaction

As always, I ended up doing more than I originally intended 😅. Uncle Perry is so cute and sweet 😩, but when it comes to Heinz, he will definitly come to the rescue.

[darylssunshine]

daryl being the best uncle <3

[slyandthefamilybook]

in a sense that tweet about how "you can program Republicans by using phrases they like" really gets on my nerves because. yeah? is this news to you? did you think you'd get your 75-year-old grandfather on side by telling him that his cisheteronormative modalities are preventing deconstruction of patriarchal attitudes of toxic masculinity? I mean I'm not surprised; the majority of this website sucks total ass at talking to people. but like, yeah. you gotta meet people on their level. this should not be a חידוש