#where are the traditions!!!

[bluegarners]

i think one of the only ways to make gotham work as a populated city is that it has to be beautiful. there has to be some external, artificial draw that keeps bringing in new people that, only then, does its curse make them stay. otherwise, there's no appeal to such a crime-ridden city. gotham more or less represents the equivalent of new york city, but there has to be more to it than just trash and trains and tall architecture. there has to be some kind of ethereal beauty, something people can't quite describe until they are in it, deep in its belly. gotham must be beautiful and teeming with allure or else it just does not work. i think people get too caught up in the crime and gloomy aesthetic that i attribute largely to what the dark knight did to batman as a whole. the grittiness i feel like has overwhelmed interpretation of gotham when it should have some level of grit but also a gleaming shine of beautiful city life and culture. there has to be a richness to anyone's interpretation of gotham that must go beyond what the wayne's stuck their fingers in. if you want a proper gotham, it has to be one that attracts people, that keeps them coming back for more despite the risks. there must be attraction there or all you've got is a smelly city and overpopulation, and that's not what gotham is

[faeberries]

it's been a long week, romanian miku pass the pălincă!!!! 🇷🇴

[arttsuka]

So, @wolfythewitch 's gravity fowls au...

[leviadraws]

I've been really enjoying playing Celeste, so doodled this in between things

I've not finished it yet, please no spoilers

[jakei95]

There's a Miku trend recently and I joined because I found it cute. Colombian Miku! (more specifically from Cundinamarca)

[pine-rhyme]

I think it would be funny in Alecto, if we spend more time on the Ninth, for the great aunts to, very affectedly, inform Harrow of her parents' passing during their silent practice to which Harrow barelly even manages to act either surprised or mournful (while Kiriona has a fit of laughter nearby).

"And that makes you, Reverend Daughter Harrowhark Nonagesimus, our 311th Reverend Mother."

Freshly out of Hell and still dazed by whatever happend post tomb opening, Reverend Mother Harrowhark Nonagesimus, can urge no other reaction out of her but a slightly out of breath, shamefully informal "Ok."

Cue a pleathoa of mom jokes that everybody seems to get into.

"Reverend- forgive me Harrowhark, I cannot in good faith look at your face and call you-"

"Then please don't. Thank you, Paul."

"Oh, mother!" ejaculates Ianthe at her every movement.

"Oh, sorry mommy", Kiriona is already begging for it.

Worst things worst she is still, functionally, the last person ever born on the Ninth.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

A procession of confessions.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[bluegiragi]

monster!au sketchdump #2

1-2: monster swap!! purely indulgent, since if they were actually these monsters from the start, they'd all have turned out different.

3: price in his prime! he was a real tank, but he grew out of his destructive phase.

4: preening time with gaz <3

early access + nsfw on patreon

[technically-human]

I always get so excited when you post your art! It’s so cute!

All I’ve been thinking about lately is the boys getting hired to actively haunt someone and Charles insisting they do the old bedsheet ghosts for authentic haunting.

Why is there lore in my silly comic?

ko-fi

Bonus, the boys went to Mexico during Día de Muertos:

[inkskinned]

for a while i lived in an old house; the kind u.s americans don't often get to live in - living in a really old house here is super expensive. i found out right before i moved out that the house was actually so old that it features in a poem by emily dickinson.

i liked that there were footprints in front of the sink, worn into the hardwood. there were handprints on some of the handrails. we'd find secret marks from other tenants, little hints someone else had lived and died there. and yeah, there was a lot wrong with the house. there are a lot of DIY skills you learn when you are a grad student that cannot afford to pay someone else to do-it-for-ya. i shared the house with 8 others. the house always had this noise to it. sometimes that noise was really fucking awful.

in the mornings though, the sun would slant in thick amber skiens through the windows, and i'd be the first one up. i'd shuffle around, get showered in this tub that was trying to exit through the floor, get my clothes on. i would usually creep around in the kitchen until it was time to start waking everyone else up - some of them required multiple rounds of polite hey man we gotta go knocks. and it felt... outside of time. a loud kind of quiet.

the ghosts of the house always felt like they were humming in a melody just out of reach. i know people say that the witching hour happens in the dark, but i always felt like it occurred somewhere around 6:45 in the morning. like - for literal centuries, somebody stood here and did the dishes. for literal centuries, somebody else has been looking out the window to this tree in our garden. for literal centuries, people have been stubbing their toes and cracking their backs and complaining about the weather. something about that was so... strangely lovely.

i have to be honest. i'm not a history aficionado. i know, i know; it's tragic of me. i usually respond to "this thing is super old" by being like, wow! cool! and moving on. but this house was the first time i felt like the past was standing there. like it was breathing. like someone else was drying their hands with me. playing chess on the sofa. adding honey to their tea.

i grew up in an old town. like, literally, a few miles off of walden pond (as in of the walden). (also, relatedly, don't swim in walden, it's so unbelievably dirty). but my family didn't have "old house" kind of money. we had a barely-standing house from the 70's. history existed kind of... parallel to me. you had to go somewhere to be in history. your school would pack you up on a bus and take you to some "ye olden times" place and you'd see how they used to make glass or whatever, and then you'd go home to your LEDs. most museums were small and closed before 5. you knew history was, like, somewhere, but the only thing that was open was the mcdonalds and the mall.

i remember one of my seventh grade history teachers telling us - some day you'll see how long we've been human for and that thing has been puzzling me. i know the scientific number, technically.

the house had these little scars of use. my floors didn't actually touch the walls; i had to fill them with a stopgap to stop the wind. other people had shoved rags and pieces of newspaper. i know i've lost rings and earring backs down some of the floorboards. i think the raccoons that lived in our basement probably have collected a small fortune over the years. i complain out loud to myself about how awful the stairs are (uneven, steep, evil, turning, hard to get down while holding anything) and know - someone else has said this exact same thing.

when i was packing up to leave and doing a final deep cleaning, i found a note carved in the furthest corner in the narrow cave of my closet. a child's scrawled name, a faded paint handprint, the scrangly numbers: 1857.

we've been human for a long time. way back before we can remember.

[beverage2000]

[gaddaboutgriffon]

The Year of the Dragon.

(Name edited, credit to @jedipirateking for the suggestion.)

A joke the fandom has been making for a while is that Tim is forever stuck at 17. What if we make that something the rest of the Batclan notice too? (I am not following cannon.)

It was just after the annual Family picture day and the new group portrait was taking the place of last year’s and looking at it they noticed 15 year old Damian is now almost the same height as Tim. And Tim is pretty much the same as last year.

Jason and Damian take the opportunity to tease Tim calling him a shrimp and other short jokes. Which Tim rolls his eyes and goes to work on a case or something with Wayne industries. But Bruce, Dick, and Alfred are more concerned, may feel guilty thinking letting him be a vigilante stunted his growth. And looking back at the photos they have of him notice that he wasn’t growing as much as a normal teen boy should have.

Bruce decides he is going to be more active in running Wayne Enterprises while Alfred plots to cut back Tim’s coffee limit. And Dick is going to help out coordinate the patrols. (He had to move back to Gotham when the Bludhaven city spirit forced all the people out before the city got blown up. It’s a long story but dick has been really down and unmotivated after that.)

Tim is not taking any of this well, and feels like his family being stifling. So he decided to start going through the basement and vault of Drake manor. Which he has been putting off since he didn’t really have time for it between patrols and WE. And in the family heirlooms vault, shoved way in the back with covered in dust and many other things sitting on top, he finds an oak box with an ornately caved dragon on it. Opening it up he finds it is velvet lined and has a large pendant that looks a silver dragon curled deep violet amethyst egg. And next to the pendant is a scroll made of thin leather.

He pulled out the scroll first and tried to read it but it was too faint of lettering to make out in the somewhat dim vault light. But what little he could make out it it was really old 14th century English and mentioned something about a coming of age. He rolls it back up and puts it aside to instead pick up the pendant. When he touches it there is a faint static shock that surprises him other then that the silver and purple necklace doesn’t seem out of the ordinary.

His phone lets off a chime to remind him that diner is in an hour, so he pack the pendant and scroll back in the box and places it in his bag with a few other items he finds interesting and wanted to look into more later. Then returns to Wayne manor to eat before patrol. It isn’t until he wakes up the next morning he realizes that he should have probably read the scroll before touching the pendant.

He wakes up to knocking on his bedroom door and someone yelling at him to get up. He had gotten into the habit of locking his door back when Damian first moved in. He yelps in surprise, falling over because his center of balance is all out of whack when he tried to stand. Now he is fully awake and takes stock of himself.

Scales?

Scales! Why are his arms covered in scales?! His hands look like a mix of paws and talons. He struggles out of the sheets to look at the rest of himself. His pjs are stretched and torn in places to accommodate the new digigrade shape of his legs. Not to mention he now has a long tail and wings and a longer neck. He rushes to his personal bathroom and awkwardly stands up on his two legs so he can get a good look in the mirror. And yep that is a distressed dragon face looking back at him. He catches himself making a weird keening sound as he plops down to sit on the bathroom floor.

Moments later he hears the sound of his bedroom door’s lock being picked. Bruce calling his name and Duke explaining he had heard animal noises from the room. Tim scrabbles to try and get the balcony door unlocked so he can escape and find a way to change back before anyone can see him, but moving on all fours and the new talon hands he is not used too take up too much time and the bedroom door is open.

Living in a family of vigilantes, their reaction time and fight or flight instincts are quick, and Tim is tackled to the floor by Duke while the others start looking at every inch of the room for clues as to what happened to their seemingly missing brother.

Bruce is looking at the dragon in Tim’s pajamas for a second before saying, “Tim? Is that you chum?”

Tim tries to answer but all that comes out is a warbling chuff. Which takes Tim by surprise and has him nearly start to cry in panic. He can’t Talk!

“Hey, you’re ok Tim. Deep breaths. Duke get off him. Breath with me Tim. In 1, 2, 3, 4. Out 1, 2, 3, 4.” Bruce spoke in his soothing a scared child voice. Tim was half annoyed at himself for how much it helped.

“B, Look at this!” Dick said holding the box with the scroll and dragon pendent instead open. Now the gem is a very pale see through purple with only a sliver on the bottom the original color.

They take it down to the bat cave and get to work deciphering the scroll. Turns out the Drake family line are descendants of some ancient medieval prince named Aragorn and that there was a family tradition that on the sixteenth birthday the child would have to live a year in dragon form to let it catch up in maturity. But after the dragon form catches up they will be able to freely shift between forms. But if they don’t follow the tradition they don’t age properly, and the longer they put off the tradition the longer they have to spend as a dragon.

And that is all I had time for before bed. So who does this affect the family dynamic? What about the relationship between Tim and Damian? How do we bring Danny Phantom into this? Does he think Tim is a ghost dragon at first?

[otaku553]

I’ve been trying to read the ace novel to practice reading Japanese and I find it really funny how deuce describes ace like he’s the heartthrob surfer dude male lead in some 2010s Disney film

Anyways here’s an ace since I was thinking about him

[arttsuka]

Fiddlestan? 👀

Ye

[chiricat]

more shuake

[mumblesplash]

gem, what happened to your eye?

(wanted to upload this panel separately, original is from this comic)