#or if anyone still checks it

[pa-panda-heroes]

Still at that “I wanna get back into writing for this blog and I think about it everyday” mindset but stuck at the “too depressed to write and when I do write it’s not the event requests” stage

#idk if this blog is still relevant to anyone #or if anyone still checks it #panda rambles #one of these days I’ll feel alive again and properly run this

[electoons]

I love the college of winterhold. everyone there is casually deranged and there's like an alarming number of students and staff who threaten you immediately when they meet you. it's always one of the first questlines I do. which makes it even funnier when you get made the arch-mage of the college. I'm level 12 and got through this questline knowing exactly 3 spells. what do you mean you want me to lead the college. this school CANNOT be an accredited institution

#i ask if anyone wants this job and everyone starts whistling and checking their phones #their magic phones. theyre scrolls #mia.txt #tes #skyrim #oh no wait i forgot j'zargo wants the position & actively tries to kill you (these are separate events but still probably not unrelated) #and nirya as well. you know what maybe its a good thing im the archmage because im never there #i drop in every few weeks for 10 minutes then leave. the place pretty much runs itself right #reddit says “they have a bullying problem” yeah i know i married him #and he's the new archmage's special little princess and he can do whatever he wants forever. call the police about it #dont bring your piddly ass problems to the archmage shes busy girlbossing (committing widescale atrocities) #(im aware this is literally just how mage organizations are in tamriel but the nords largely have a unique disdain for magic #so its funny tht the winterhold mages make no attempt to like. be more normal to gain the locals' trust. they truly do not care) #(and you know what? good for them. fuck them nords)

[faeriekit]

The Foster Mother

Now on ao3 and VHS release

There was, supposedly, someone waiting for him in the green sitting room.

“…Why?” Tim asked. Most of the usual suspects had already come by to give their “condolences”—former Drakes Industries investors, curious about the newly orphaned heir; fellow socialites, once again flocking in to give and receive sympathies for their “close friends, the Drakes”; gawkers come to see what they could scavenge off of a dead family’s home, never mind that their child was alive.

“She claims to know you, Master Tim,” Alfred offered, kettle in his hand. He spent a moment deciding between different two canisters of tea; a sign of possibly difficult future conversation. “Her interest in your father's estate seemed quite…minimal.”

…Alright.

Tim was still in his formalwear. Dissolving Drake Industries would take at least another year, and plenty of future hours cementing the future home of certain resources in their dissolution, but the outfit probably was more appropriate for whatever oncoming conversation that was about to ensue than his planned change into Dick’s old hoodie and board shorts.

Okay. Tim steeled himself. The self-determination…mostly worked. Whatever. He trudged up into the green sitting room from the kitchen with his usual introduction ready on his tongue.

And then Tim walked into the room.

And then Jazzy was there.

*

Tim had been three, and Miss Jasmine had been his had been his third nanny. He’d outgrown the wetnurse early on, and his second nanny had been dismissed, so although Miss Jasmine was the third nanny, she was first nanny Tim could consciously remember.

She’d had red hair. She’d been very gentle with him.

She got him up in the morning and put him to bed at night; for the first time, there had been someone who sat with him until he was asleep, reading all sorts of books his parents had left to engage him with as an early genius. Then, when those were over and done as promised to his parents, they got unauthorized books from the library: silly books with made-up words, dinosaur books, books about teddy bears and adventures around the world.

Tim hadn’t been allowed to travel the world. Tim hadn’t been allowed a teddy bear. His parents had thought it would encourage undue attachment.

(It had been the same reason he’d never been given a pacifier.)

Miss Jazz had given him a knitted bunny. She’d said her dad had made it especially for him.

The toy’s name was Bunny and Tim remembered him being very soft.

She didn’t smile all the time, but smiles were rewards that were easy to earn. He finished his meal and she smiled. He finished an educational puzzle and she smiled. He was quiet all through her phone call and she smiled, and answered all his questions once she was done.

Jazzy had been the first person in his life who was there all the time. She’d kissed his forehead after the bath and kissed his scraped knees; she’d carried him in his arms when he was tired and sometimes even when he wasn’t. His parents had wanted him to be independent, proactive, and not clingy, but Jazzy had been someone who he could run to from his bed when he’d had nightmares and someone he could cuddle on her lap with when he’d cried.

She was gone when he was seven. He didn’t remember why. His parents had probably never told him, but still; he'd assumed he'd have found out why eventually.

Jazzy looked the same right now as she looked in Tim’s memories, although she was likely no longer a college student at a nannying gig. Her red hair was pulled into a high bun, her dress modest and conservative from her neck to her ankles. There was a backpack beside her foot. She was sitting, one leg crossed over the other, on the high-backed loveseat in the green sitting room.

She looked up when he came in.

Tim. Stopped in his tracks.

It didn’t matter. Jazzy—Miss Jasmine stood up as soon as she saw him, eyes alight with worry. Foggy memories were swimming to the forefront of Tim’s brain. He couldn’t move.

“Tim?” Ja—Miss Jasmine asked, teal eyes raking over his frame. Tim froze where he was. He didn’t move, wide-eyed and terrified for no reason at all when Miss Jasmine got closer to him, at a distance that was more appropriate for a conversation.

She stood there. Watching him. It felt like his mother had just come home from her trips with Dad, and a ghost of old terror wafted through him as he waited for her to decide he’d done something wrong. Her voice got softer. Her eyes got softer. Why was Tim feeling so wrong-footed?? It was only a former staff person!

“Tim?” her voice was so gentle. “I don’t know if you remember me. I’m—“

“M’s Jazz,” Tim croaked. Which. Wasn’t the level of formality he’d been going for, but better than Jazzy. He wasn’t a toddler anymore.

Miss Jasmine was so tall—honestly, was she taller than Bruce? She’d seemed insurmountable as a child; he hadn’t expected her height to truly be so statuesque as an adult.

(Or. Well. Almost an adult.)

She didn’t quite kneel down, but she did stoop lower, as if Tim was small and he needed to be on equal footing in order to have a serious conversation.

He could see all her freckles. Tim swallowed. It was too familiar. Everything about her was too familiar.

“You’re so big now,” Jazzy whispered, looking at his hair, his suit, his polished shoes. He didn’t feel it. “Oh, you’ve grown up so well.”

Thanks, Tim almost said. Something stopped him—something thick in his throat, to impassable to break through.

“I—“ he tried. He coughed. “Why…you… You’re here?”

Jazzy threw him an incredulous look, and then an incredibly wry one. “Well,” she drawled a little too primly, in the way that Alfred occasionally made obvious statements, “I’d think it obvious that when one’s parents have passed away, that those who care about you might come to check and see if you’re alright.”

Which. That didn’t make sense. Jazzy hadn’t come back for any other reason; she hadn’t come back for his mother’s funeral, nor when his father was injured publicly by a villain. Why start now?

“And,” Jazz added, seeing his visual confusion and distrust, “Your parents can’t exactly threaten me with a kidnapping charge for visiting you when they’re dead.” Pause. “Which I am sorry about. My condolences.”

Which. Whiplash. What a statement.

“Uh,” said Tim, who was rapidly losing control over the situation.

Jazzy stood again, and went back to her seat; she didn’t set herself down, though, as she only stooped to grab her backpack. “I am sorry for being unable to visit, although I really wanted to; you were at a very vulnerable age and had already moved into a class a year above you, and your parents should have been less hasty about replacing your main caretaker. The assassination attempts were unwarranted, but they did drive the point home that attempting contact was perhaps discouraged.”

“What,” said Tim. “Assassin what.”

“They were ninjas,” Jazzy offered, as if that was an answer. “Except the last one, which was a former marine. The point is that I do care about you, and wanted to ask if you had any idea where you’re going now that your parents are no longer…available guardians.”

Tim’s mouth opened. It closed.

Jazzy waited patiently.

“…How have you been?” Tim tried, resorting to a part of the script they hadn’t gone through yet.

Jazzy’s laugh was tired, but no less real. It was nothing like listening to his parents titter politely; he didn’t think Jazzy would even know how to fake a laugh. “Well, my brother told me that my former bosses had died, which was somewhat stressful. Otherwise, I’m pretty happy: I live with my brother and worked with him for the last few years. I was going to pursue medicine, but…well. The assassination attempts made it hard to interview for scholarships. I suppose that I could return to that now,” Jazzy mused, attention now elsewhere. She pulled the backpack off the floor and up into her grip. She opened it, and flipped through its contents. “How are you doing? I know that Wayne Manor fosters, but your parents were always rather…hands off. I thought the difference in levels of attention might be overwhelming.”

It was. Tim should be surprised how clearly she sees through him—

—But Jazzy used to watch him stim for almost a full hour after school, twisting Bunny’s arms back and forth until he could calm down. Seeing other people all day had been too much for him. Coming home from his parents’ parties had been similarly stressful.

She’d never been mad at him for it. She held him while he talked and stimmed and talked and talked and talked, and brushed his hair sometimes, or if it was very late and he was very young, helped him brush his teeth through all the medieval execution facts he could name.

“It is a lot to get used to,” Tim agreed quietly. He didn’t want to be ungrateful. He didn’t want to let on anyone about his plan to leave.

He had an out. The papers had already been filed; there was an actor waiting to play his uncle for a custody battle, ready for the fight.

Tim was ready to up and go. It was no hardship to leave all the good things here; anything beat making Bruce stick his fingers into Tim any deeper than they already were, compromising the dynamic they’d already established.

It was for the best.

“I can imagine,” Jazzy sympathized easily. “And I wanted to offer—well. I know there’s probably a lot of choices available to you, but my brother and I recently moved back to Gotham proper for the time being. He’s teaching astronomy courses at the university and I’m filing paperwork for Arkham patients. It’s not so privileged a home, but it’s quieter, and more central in town.”

…Tim’s heart skipped.

He. He couldn’t stop staring. Jazzy stared back at him, quiet and sure. Sure of what, Tim had no idea, but…

Why? Why would she want Tim? There was no way she would be able to get to his trust fund without his help, and he for sure knew better than to enable her ability to leech from him. The last time she’d known him, Tim had been a snot-nosed kid who cried all the time and couldn’t be normal for twenty consecutive minutes. His parents couldn’t even stand to be on the same hemisphere as him as a child. What appeal did this have for her?? What could having a teenager with severe baggage living in her house do for her?

And it’s not like there was any chance she knew he was Robin!

“Oh,” Jazzy suddenly interrupted. “I brought these for you, by the way. Your parents had tossed them out at various points; I’ve washed them since, of course.”

She handed him the backpack by the handle.

…Tim peeked inside.

On top was Bunny, still a washed-out faded sort of pink. He looked as fresh as he had the day when Tim’s parents had ”cleaned out” Tim’s nursery—in other words, a faded, a little gray, and slightly discolored from an old spaghetti stain. His button eyes were big and blue.

And beneath him were books that hadn’t passed his father’s muster as appropriately masculine reading material: The Velveteen Rabbit, with the cover a little scarred from a fierce attack of wet wipes. There’s A Monster at the End of This Book, with a goofy-looking Muppet on the cover, gold spine beat up beyond belief. Art Tim’s teacher at the time must have laminated and sent home; Tim’s dorky, crayon cat proved he would never make it as an artist, but attached to it was a photograph of a grinning boy with a bowl cut and a missing tooth.

Tim stared. There’d been purple marker on his hands and face. His grin looked…really bad, actually, like as if he was baring his teeth because he didn’t know how to smile. There was no formal grace there. Nothing to show the neighbors, nothing worth framing to put into the line of sight of the investors in the office.

Jazzy had kept it and brought it home with her. Jazzy had fished it out of the trash, and brought it with her to give back to him in Gotham.

It was crinkled like it’d been folded, over and over again. Further down in the bag was a crumpled certificate dedicated to “Timmy Drake, for: knowing a lot about octopi”, and a baby blanket Tim didn’t even remember. It had rocket ships on it. It looked as if someone had cut into it with scissors, although it had been obviously and brightly mended with red embroidery floss later on.

Jazzy had only been his nanny until Tim was seven. She had simply been gone one night, and Mom and Dad had been home for ten nights after without help before giving in and hiring Mrs. McIlvane and Mrs. Edith. Ms. Edith had never been so…permissive…with Tim as Jazzy had been.

Tim swallowed. He carefully put everything back into the backpack, unsure if he even wanted to keep it or not. It wasn’t like he could leave it here; he’d be gone, ideally, before the week was out. There was no point in taking it with him if he only planned to live with a stranger until he was eighteen.

“J…” Tim tried. He cut himself off before he could get too informal without prompting. “Miss Jasmine—“

“Just Jazz,” Jazzy corrected politely.

“—Why are you here?” Tim asked, ignoring how she’d technically already answered. He didn’t believe her. “What made my parents fire you?”

Jazzy’s expression turned…soft. Tim couldn’t look at her. Something horrible was welling with it, and he didn’t know how to cope.

“I’m here because I care about you,” Jazz repeated, and knelt beside him. She looked up into his face, and took his hand. Tim didn’t know why. He was practically an adult—he didn’t need this!

“And I was fired because your Mother overheard you calling me ‘Mommy’ on accident when you were tired. I suppose she was insulted, although I’d never know why; it’s not like she was ever home to bond with you in the first place.”

Tim’s throat closed. He missed his mom. He missed waiting up for his parents’ flight home, seeing their headlights outside the window, and knowing they’d bring home gifts from overseas. He missed using Mom’s perfume, and knowing he’d used more of the bottle sitting on her dressed than she ever had, but that it still smelled like her. He missed hearing his Dad telling all sorts of adventure stories and promises through the phone to be home for the holidays, even if Tim knew there was every chance he’d find some other way to spend the time back in Gotham.

And there was some small child in him who missed Jazzy, who hugged him and walked him to the library and made him soup from a can instead of fancy dinners and, who’d never needed to be waited for in the first place.

Tim looked at Jazzy’s round, freckled face.

He swallowed.

Tim moved out before the end of the week, as expected.

#dp x dc #Jazz fenton #tim drake #that one time Tim specifically hired a fake uncle so that Bruce couldn't adopt him #free to a good home #Jack Fenton knits btw #I'm not going to continue this but i thought it was a cool premise and needed its time. Have fun with it if you want to! #this is dedicated to all the fulltime nannies at the library who are fully just college girls raising babies #dpxdc #dcxdp #Jazz said is anyone going to raise this baby and was targeted by ninjas for it #I don't have any future plans BUT there is a moment where Dick tries to sneak into her apt to 'check it out' and she fully Gets Him with a #TBI and a Fenton CreepStickTM #also. parents who try to shape their kids by denying them every form of human comfort and access to their interests. You're dead to me #also also also I'm still a Tim Drake Autistic truther #not NOT inspired by the Say Uncle by Megarakles. This one's for you fellow fans #also. if he goes with her. He gets parented for the first time ever and it Sucks Ass lol. #faer fic

[kikker-oma]

#i wanted the scenery to be disturbingly lighthearted #but idk im not feeling it. #i wish i did something different #but i dont know what that would be #oh well #im debating scenery while Four is bleeding out #has anyone checked for a pulse? #lets hope he still has one... #linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu fanart #lu four #whumptober 2023 #whumptober #blood #temporary character death

[atdawn]

Still alive, then? Yeah, just about. I understand I have you to thank for that.

MERLIN 1.04 - The Poisoned Chalice

#merlin #arthur pendragon #bbc merlin #merlingifs #syfysource #tvedit #smallscreensource #userashley #mediagifs #filmtvcentral #televisiongifs #ee #gifs #m #arthur #104

[imaybe5tupid]

Why bother? (Why bother?) It's gonna hurt me. (It's gonna hurt me.) It's gonna kill when- (Why bother!) -You desert me! (Gonna hurt me!)

Set after Nightmare. Laios is reminiscing and contemplating.

#laishuro #laios touden #i make a lot of jokes on here since part of the fun of this blog for me is limiting myself to only expressing ideas via drawings #as much as I can to try to see what I can try to convey in the limited time I have to draw each day which is sometimes like 15minutes #but laios idea of who shuro was to him and who he continues to be and how it ties into his own feelings of self worth and self hatred #not to mention being so thoroughly defined by having never been indulged before by the men in his life #are so compelling to me #and then of course you mix in toshiros own mind prisons #and their established dynamic of him begrudgingly putting up with him because he feels he has to and bc hes cursed with obedience #whilst laios genuinely thinks shuro does it because he likes it and likes laios because why else would anyone act like that #when everyone else in his life has not hesitated to Let Him Know #this is what is so fun about relationships like this…forever passing by each other’s true feelings like ships in the night #and on toshiros side umineko said it best People are riddles. They want someone else to solve their riddle #they live life wanting someone to solve the riddle that they are #the most difficult riddle in the world #without love the truth cannot be seen sighhhh many such cases #sometimes i get embarassed how deep i get for some of the characters in this series it really is that deep sometimes but not always #but WHATEVER #i never even engaged in or was interested in shipping the several years i read dunmeshi EXCEPT laishuro lol #which i sadistically wanted to stay one sided and miserable forever. I rarely get fed such genuinely fraught dynamics as their one in manga #so i became obsessed #and walked through the desert alone for 40 years and then checked in as anime started airing that other people ship this and gaf #and decided to unleash the jokes and ideas that my like 2 friend who like anime previously suffered alone as though they were jesus christ #now tho as much as I still enjoy tragedy and pain and emotional suffering I’ve let love and peace and requited fulfilled yaoi into my life #with laishuro. and its great! #my comics

[buzzfella]

i saw someone say something like "maybe in another universe they protected each other" about the roomies and i dont think that could be more wrong. even if they weren't successful, they did everything they could.

etho used both of his lives to help his team by running away. he is a runner and by god he will do what he knows how to in service of those who cared.

cleo isnt as obvious. she's used to being betrayed at this point, so her support for her team is subtle but there in her actions. early season she funnels hearts to her teammates. they stick together, and after etho dies she's trying again and again to make sure her remaining teammate doesnt die trying to defend her.

grian, in his own words, goes anyway the wind blows. not this time. this time, his final life is spent kicking and screaming, fighting like a cornered dog to survive. to stall. if cleo can have one more breath, one minute closer to living, anything, he would surrender his hearts as a human shield.

they were all loyal until their deaths, contrary to past seasons. they learned how to protect for their team. it didn't work, but god did they try.

#whimsyposting #zombiecleo #ethoslab #etho #grian #secret life smp #secret life spoilers #idk if i still need to tag spoilers but im gonna anyways #also did the series end #checks calendar #over a week ago? #yes. am i still unwell? yes #they're my sillies #i can think of like 80 different ways to talk about the besties #they're my favorites #idk if ANYONE could tell

[turrondeluxe]

You know how some kids say stuff that freak out their parents like “the man in the corner doesn’t like that” and there’s no one there

or how most kids just stand in the doorway of a room at night for no reason besides waiting for their parents to wake up so they can ask a question but it can be really creepy and freak the parents out

That kind of thing but mostly the second one because I think that’s more common in kids

(previous ask for context)

Alright i totally understand now. That'd be Moja, no doubt!

#the thing moja is saying is referencing the reddit of kids saying scary af stuff lmao #also shes around 3 years old because by checking that reddit thread you can actually read a very #prominent number of 2 and 3 year olds in specific that are the ones saying the most scary shit out of nowhere lol #moja would def be one of those kids that used to say the most concerning and scary stuff ever #she does grow out of it though (mikey is very thankful about this but he will never say it out loud) #also if anyone is wondering on how moja ended up with mikeys snork mimimi hat it went like #moja still very sleepy: papa can i have your silly hat to sleep better? #mikey: yeah sure kid #my art #doodles #tmnt #tmnt the last ronin #tlr lost years #tmnt mikey #tmnt michelangelo #tmnt moja #peepaw and babies au #ask

[valiant-portabella-pirkko]

okay they seriously outdid themselves with the new SAB weapon set this year. just LOOK at these things!! my hands are going to die a noble death collecting them... but it will be worth it.

#gw2 #guild wars 2 #gw2 SAB #my posts #no seriously LOOK at them!! #i need them all. #honestly i wish i'd had these before i invested in the hardlight ones because these fit Holoscientist Ankka even better #i definitely need at least a few because DAMN. just. man #i felt the same way about the grim machine ones but mannnn #the animations on them are great too tho you obviously can't see that in these since they're just still shots #they're called Golem Buster weapons btw if you want to check them out in the wardrobe! i looked at 'em through the achieves box #(for anyone wondering how these would fit Ankka; in Flourish AU she's an Inquest mesmer who merges holotech with her magic) #(i need to share screens of her design... someday...) #...... i literally just noticed that i specifically picked all the mesmer special weapons HDFHDFGDHDH i DIDN'T EVEN MEAN TO #but honestly it feels very magitech mesmer so i'll accept that

[clockwayswrites]

Alright darlings. I can't believe that I'm having to write this, but even if you're joking, even if you say you're joking or end it with /j, please don't threaten writers.

Joking about grabbing a pitchfork or torches is fine, cliche angry mob and all! Joking about the writer hurting reader, jail for 1000 years is fine! There's lots of okay joking ways to express things. But as soon as it crosses into actual jokes of physical harm, you've crossed a line.

Do not threaten to actually harm people. Not to punch them or slap them or stab them. Do not threaten to break into their homes or stalk them or follow them.

Not only should you just not do this to the general person, but you also don't know if who you're telling this two has a history with abuse or home invasion or stalking. You could really mess someone up.

Even if you're joking saying 'I'm going to punch you for this (/j)' is not okay. Joking to break into someone's home while they're asleep for a 'prank' is not okay. Especially when your tone comes across as less than joking. Even if that's how you joke with your friends it is not okay to say to a stranger.

Please remember there is a difference between being friendly and being friends. And writers are not your friends just because they're posting work on ao3 or social media, even if you and them are friendly with each other. You're still strangers to each other and you do not know what jokes they are okay with.

So just don't.

It can really hurt people and even if you can only be selfish about it, it is a good way to make someone not write anymore.

#DO NOT start a witch hunt about this please #wasn't going to say anything #but I'm still bothered by it #i shouldn't be afraid of checking my comments #so I'm addressing here and will on ao3 as needed #and maybe block in one case #but don't go after anyone #fandom matters

[bigkickguy]

some daan marcoh doodles around some dialogue bits I hit in game haha - gave me some thoughts on how one could think of daan if you only bumped into him at certain points? I don't remember the lines exactly but there were a few like this? 'Are you moving on? I guess we'll split ways here.' 'Someone has figure out how to treat these people...'

'You were very heroic stepping in there.' 'In the dark, your thoughts can really get to you out here...' 'Am... I... still a good man? Or...'

#fear and hunger #daan fear and hunger #marcoh fear and hunger #kickdraw #daanmarcoh #keep getting dialogue and I feel like if you only saw certain parts of Daan he seems like a very noble doctor figure #trying to research/avenge his dead almost(?) wife - staying behind to diagnose the villagers #meanwhile marcoh has like only killed one guy and is trying so hard to be a good person but is sinking in that Guilt #if daan stepped in on the marcoh held at gunpoint bit - I feel like it would fit Marcoh's lines about 'being heroic' or whatever #maybe he would be comparing himself to him - like 'im not a good man cause thats what a good man looks like in this situation' #and later when marcoh has a reality check he has to be like ... oh.... he's actually like this... huh #I feel like daan would hate it if anyone thought of him like this hakfjghadfg - but that makes it crunchier in my mind :) #daan starts looking much less like a tragic romantic protagonist when he is bickering with the party and getting dunked on #this weird image leaves the second you take both of them into the sewer and daan just starts complaining at him about the smell too often #sorry marcoh your fantasy protagonist man only exists in your dreams :) I think he'd still like him after getting a more realistic view tho

[breesperez139]

Dc x Dp Prompt #5

Demon Twin AU only Damian never had a blood son phase and has “biological siblings” (how absurd):

Damian would like to start by saying he is not at fault for this… miscommunication. Truly, how was he to know sharing the same blood as Jasmine and Danyal would make them “siblings”? Not once has anyone mentioned such absurd claims. He has never and will never treat either of the two the way he would Richard or any of his other siblings, but apparently sharing the same donors when being created automatically makes people siblings.

Worse, father is upset at him and mother for “hiding away” two of his “children” from him. Richard and Thomas will not stop staring at him. Todd, Brown, and Drake will not stop laughing. Cassandra has not stopped looking at his body language since this whole encounter started. Alfred is giving him his patented disappointed face he oh so hates but what is he to do?

Damian was not hiding anything or anyone. Jasmine and Danyal have not nor will they ever be his siblings. They are the children of Jack and Maddie Fenton just as Richard and the rest of them are Bruce’s children. Blood has nothing to do with family. They are at best “god-siblings” or “cousins” if father refuses to believe they are simply childhood companions.

There is barely a hint of emotion as father purses his lips while his siblings continue looking on at him in disbelief. Damian is not understanding why they are having trouble comprehending such simple logic. It is common sense to know that siblings are the children at least one of your parents have raised other than yourself. Parents are the people who raise you. Talia raised him therefore she is his mother. He lives with Bruce who is now raising him and therefore he is his father.

Neither Talia nor Bruce raised Jasmine or Danyal, therefore they are not siblings. It is merely coincidence that he shared blood with both Bruce and Talia. After all, every time he’s visited Amity Park, most children look nothing like their parents. How can it not be coincidence when it is clearly far more normal to raise children who don’t share an ounce of blood with you, than those who do.

How can it not be normal when Jack Fenton took Jasmine in so easily knowing he didn’t share any dna with her? Even more so with Danyal who doesn’t share even a drop of blood with either Jack or Maddie. Look at yourself father. Out of all your children, only one shares your dna. Do not try and pin this on Damian for being the only sensible person in this family. Blood siblings, ha, don’t make him laugh.

#dc x dp #dp x dc #dc x dp prompt #dp x dc prompt #dc x dp crossover #dp x dc crossover #danny and damian are twins #they and Jazz are all bio siblings through Bruce #but only Jazz and Danny think of each other as siblings #Jazz is Bruce and Maddie’s kid #Jack is infertile #Talia being a great bff to Maddie offered up Bruce’s dna #this changes everything and nothing at the same time #Damian never called himself the only blood son #Talia and Ra’s never instilled it into him knowing Jazz and Danny were around #Damian still had a superiority complex but only because he was heir to demon #the batfam told him to call Jazz/Danny to fact check #unfortunately for them neither Jazz or Danny knew this either #they were all taught that blood didn’t mean shit by both the league and their parents #for Damian this included Bruce too (which he is now slowly regretting) #it also wasn’t until the batfam saw danny that anyone found out danny and Damian were twins #no one in amity ever really thought about why danny and damian looked so similar #amity park is big on adoption #very few of them actually gave birth to their children #this only enforced the thought that raising a child who you sired isn’t common #Damian uses amity park as a reference for what’s considered normal #Bruce almost had an aneurism when he found out about Dan and Ellie

[kyouka-supremacy]

New Chuuya art by the bsd anime chief animation director Nobuhiro Arai for White Day 2024

#Has anyone posted this already? I'm still in class so I wasn't able to check comprehensively #If it was already please tell me I don't like posting duplicates #chūya nakahara #bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd official art

[jeanmoreauss]

if people start spinning the sex-repulsed, traumatized by sex so couldn't possibly enjoy sex view with Jean Moreau I will be coming after them with knives because have you morons not learned a single fucking lesson about infantilizing SA survivors

#killing you killing you killing you #i'm asexual and an SA survivor #guess what! still not sex repulsed and still like sex! #GET THE FUCK OVER YOURSELVES #we actually have no narrative indication that he's disgusted or repulsed by sex #there's caution around consent (like checking in on Cody) and obviously he's fucking traumatized but for the love of god let's not go to th #sex repulsed demonizing anyone who writes about jean having sex or liking sex #like please go fuck yourselves #aftg #tsc #the sunshine court #jean moreau #all for the game #personal.txt

[humanmorph]

(transcript by @violentandmagnificent)

It’s quiet here, living in your head. It’s quiet here, and when I talk, you listen, at least when you can hear me, which isn’t always. It isn’t always, but it’s better than never. It’s quiet here, living on this ship. It’s quiet here, and I remember when it was loud, I remember different voices bouncing in these halls, I remember old arguments, I remember myself. I wonder how much I can tell you; because  I can tell you; I have much to say. But you never saw me astride the Prophet’s Path, beside the Resin Heart, imparting wrath and play. So who am I? You only know what they’ve told you. So who am I? You only know what’s written down. So who am I? You only know what’s on recordings, and according to the world, I’m a hypocrite, or drowned. I doubt you can hear me, but I know that she can. So pardon my frustration, I’m just tired of her plan. I lost my life long before I understood, before metaphor became real, before I felt the wheel’s wood. I wonder what she’ll tell you. I wonder what she’ll share.  I wonder what she’ll ask of you, what task of sweat and prayer.  I long to sweat and pray, a body in the day. The color of the sun. The touch, the ocean's spray.  The last thing that I felt in life. (The first thing that I felt in life.) The touch, the ocean's spray.  I hope she tells the truth to you. (I hope she tells the worst to you.) The touch, the ocean's spray.  I loved her like she told me to. (I left her like she told me to.) The touch, the ocean's spray.  We’re running out of time, you know? (She’s running out of time, you know?) The touch, the ocean's spray.  I fear we might be mirrored, two echoes of a call shouted between two queens, two queens who want it all. I fear we might be symmetry, I fear we might be one. Make her tell the truth to you before we come undone.

PALISADE 37: Reach In / Reach Out Pt. 1

#palisade #palisade spoilers #gur sevraq #i checked and i dont think anyones uploaded this one yet? #still havent listened to the episode proper btw. #possibly unwise to post this since i might see spoilers in the tags but whateverrrrrr gur sevraq. #i have an animatic rattling around in my head & like. im not doing that. but oooohhh #friends at the table #is it ocean spray or ocean's spray? it doesnt really matter truly but the s sound is so sharp to me... hrm. #thank you to ellis violentandmagnicifent again. i messed around w the linebreaks a bit but its hard... #its this weird balance between 'this is what it sounds like to me' vs 'but it looks strange (?!??)' #i really like the one at 'I wonder how much I can tell you; because '. thats a really good one. leaving it as is #it hits both (looks cool + captures the intonation used) #tbh this is also making my fingers itch to write it out how i did it on my long road to palisade intro comic #like. in a fun way. #long post

[jewelleria]

I know it's not how you rationalize it to yourself, but your posts about Israel/palestine come off as a support of the destruction of Gaza and ethnic cleansing of Palestinians. Insisting that it's a war (Palestine isn't allowed to have an army, and Israel cannot claim self-defence against a territory they occupy), denying that Israel is at fault, obscuring support of Palestine in general as being motivated by antisemitism - it paints a picture.

At least 30 000, probably closer to 100 000 Palestinians have been killed as of now. That is so monumentally worse than anything currently happening to Israel / zionists. So when you spend most of your energy focusing on those wrongs, or insisting that people talking about Palestine should focus on them, it comes off as brushing it off or trying to diminish its importance.

You don't have to answer, as I'll be blocking you, but I'm asking you to please consider what you're willing to support, excuse or tone down, and why. I know what it's like to be too focused on the discrimination we're facing to really take in what other groups might be going through.

hey anon, that's some great useful idiot syndrome you got there. how much college debt did you go into to earn it?

#i don’t want to find out anything about what’s going on from anyone who actually knows! #i just want to dump my thinly veiled antisemitic bias disguised as antizionism and then block you because i can’t handle your answers! #< thats what u sound like anon #that’s what ur giving rn #and if i’m reading the ‘we’ right and you are a jew…. #you can still be antisemitic #the bias isn’t called unconscious for nothing my friend #and i have considered what i’m ‘willing to support’ #i’ve considered it my whole life and i considered it in bomb shelters too #so chew on that! #and stop harassing jews & israelis! #jumblr #antisemitism #check your biases at the door #leftist antisemitism #leftist hypocrisy #i/p conflict #israel hamas war #anti zionisim