#this would include

[goaheadandgetinthebog]

Dick, to the Titans: OK this is my little brother, everyone has to be so nice to him!

Jason, 6'4, built like a double fridge and holding a gun: Hey.

The Titans:

Years later.

Dick, to the Titans again: OK this is my even littler brother, everyone be super super nice to him!

Duke, 6'2, built like a linebacker and lit up like a glo stick: Yo.

The Titans:

Years after that.

Dick, again, to the Titans: OK this is my littlest baby brother, everyone has to be so sweet to him! He's a baby!

Damian, 18 and 6'0, made of pure muscle and holding a sword: Greetings.

The Titans: ...where are you finding these brothers.

[porcelain-rob0t]

on identity, healing the inner child, fursonas, and cringe culture

[clownboybebop]

if you’re ever in the position to choose between giving up and accepting defeat, and actually trying to fight the ancient unkillable god that is about to peel apart reality like a string cheese, remember this: scientifically speaking, you might as well give it a shot!

1.there were trees at the beginning of the world! there were trees so long ago that they predate bacteria that causes wood to decay. when a tree fell, it would lie there in stasis and there wasn’t any way of breaking down wood xylem on a molecular level in that way.

2. it seems obvious to say, but wood eating bacteria are literally incapable of comprehending what they’re breaking down. It’s just not information conciously available to a microorganism. they don’t know what they’re deconstructing, where it came from, bacteria have no way to even fathom the existence of a tree as a concept.

3. Regardless of the facts above, the world we live in today is a world where wood inevitably decomposes

it is worth fighting the unkillable god no matter how pointless it seems. it is worth taking the risk even though youre trying to accomplish something impossible. the reality in which you live was also once reality in which trees didn’t rot. You live in a reality that allows for existence before the possibility of destruction. you live in a reality where uncomprehending microbes break down matter that is so far beyond the scope of their comprehension that it feels comical to specify something so obvious. you live in a reality that occasionally allows unshakeable physical truths to be altered with no warning.

It is worth fighting the unkillable god because trees are so old they predate the source of their destruction, and it still did not spare them. It is worth fighting the unkillable god because bacteria rots unthinkingly, because there is room in our cosmos for destruction without comprehension on the part of the destroyer. It is worth fighting the unkillable god because now and then reality retracts the promise of immortality without fanfare, and when that happens there is no mercy for the ancient. the unmaking is not softer for the desecrators ignorance. for all things, existence is endless until the exact point where it ends.

so you might as well try to kill the unkillable god. it doesn’t seem likely, but at the beginning of the world, trees didn’t rot. so you never know! you never know

[hinamie]

to moving forward

[hoshizoralone]

reflection

[lady-of-the-spirit]

"Canon divergence" but it's giving characters the close friendships I think they would have had if canon had expanded a little more.

[professorcalculusstanaccount]

I remember discussing Tintin casting choices with a friend from Germany and remarked how it was odd he often has an English accent in adaptations rather than a Belgian one, and my friend just replied "that's because Tintin gives incredibly strong English boy energy (derogatory)"

Here in the UK there's a lot of weird classism tied into accents. Today accent diversity and representation in broadcasting is actively pursued but in Tintin's time there certainly was a preferred accent to have.

imagine this exchange happens between pages 28-29 in The Crab with the Golden Claws

[inkskinned]

probably time for this story i guess but when i was a kid there was a summer that my brother was really into making smoothies and milkshakes. part of this was that we didn't have AC and couldn't afford to run fans all day so it was kind of important to get good at making Cool Down Concoctions.

we also had a patch of mint, and he had two impressionable little sisters who had the attitude of "fuck it, might as well."

at one point, for fun, this 16 year old boy with a dream in his eye and scientific fervor in heart just wanted to see how far one could push the idea of "vanilla mint smoothie". how much vanilla extract and how much mint can go into a blender before it truly is inedible.

the answer is 3 cups of vanilla extract, 1/2 cup milk alternative, and about 50 sprigs (not leaves, whole spring) of mint. add ice and the courage of a child. idk, it was summer and we were bored.

the word i would use to describe the feeling of drinking it would maybe be "violent" or perhaps, like. "triangular." my nose felt pristine. inhaling following the first sip was like trying to sculpt a new face. i was ensconced in a mesh of horror. it was something beyond taste. for years after, i assumed those commercials that said "this is how it feels to chew five gum" were referencing the exact experience of this singular viscous smoothie.

what's worse is that we knew our mother would hate that we wasted so much vanilla extract. so we had to make it worth it. we had to actually finish the drink. it wasn't "wasting" it if we actually drank it, right? we huddled around outside in the blistering sun, gagging and passing around a single green potion, shivering with disgust. each sip was transcendent, but in a sort of non-euclidean way. i think this is where i lost my binary gender. it eroded certain parts of me in an acidic gut ecology collapse.

here's the thing about love and trust: the next day my brother made a different shake, and i drank it without complaint. it's been like 15 years. he's now a genuinely skilled cook. sometimes one of the three of us will fuck up in the kitchen or find something horrible or make a terrible smoothie mistake and then we pass it to each other, single potion bottle, and we say try it it's delicious. it always smells disgusting. and then, cerimonious, we drink it together. because that's what family does.

[hummise]

this came to me in a vision

[pineapple-frenzy]

Book 2 au: sparring sessions and short hair katara

They like to have sparring sessions in order to keep their bending skills sharp. They allow themselves to go all out and not hold back at all cause they know if anyone got hurt, Katara could just heal them

But anyways, wouldn't it be kinda funny if Zuko accidentally burned Katara's hair tho? Aofkqldkkajfjd

The "I think we can save the hairloops" line is from @linnoya-writes thank you for that!! :>>

[bats-and-the-birds]

I'm sure this has been put out there before, but I like to think of a situation wherein by virtue of being close to Batman as Superman, mild mannered reporter Clark Kent just becomes an inexplicable friend of Bruce Wayne, deeply confusing every person in his life. And not even in a big way that it's publisized in the news or anything, but like

Lois: WayneTech's unveiling a new prototype at the gala tomorrow night but I still can't get a press pass for it!

Clark: Oh, I can get you into that.

Lois: And how on earth would you do that?

Clark: Oh, uh, someone at WayneTech owes me a favor.

-Later, at the gala-

Young Dick Grayson, in a tuxedo, launching himself at full speed into Clark's arms: Uncle Clark!

Lois, internally: What the fuck? What the fuck? what the FUCK?

[halberdierminister]

Look at this cool new t-shirt I made for fans of Abraham Lincoln! I made it on my own time, with my own resources, and without any affiliation to existing public or private institutions concerned with history, education, hospitality, culture or retail. You can find it at my new Threadless shop or directly at bit.ly/imissabe

[hinamie]

I don't want to regret the way I lived

[yelsapo]

"The camera was positioned in a storage yard 66 metres away."

Or, in other words, 73 yards.

[rustchild]

desperately craving weird surrealist arthurania. Knights with no faces wandering through the mists. Seams between Christian and pre-Christian Britain gaping like open wounds. Beafts and visions. Maybe a monk. Maybe the monk is gay