Prompt 74
When a new black-haired blue-eyed person appeared in the manor, one could easily be forgiven for thinking that Bruce’s adoption problem had struck again. So color many a batkid surprised that no, this kid isn’t a new sibling, no he didn’t get grabbed from the street, and actually he’s here for Alfred.
Apparently Alfred never found it important to mentioned that he has a husband- that the kid kind of implies isn’t human what with the casual way he says he himself is half human- and that this kid is apparently their child. For once it’s Bruce’s turn to come home to a surprise sibling.
Danny on the other hand just learned that his Clockpa has a semi-mortal partner who has offered to take him in, (in another dimension even! And there’s aliens!!) while the ancient takes care of some stuff at home.
And yeah it’s in a rich-manor but Sam has proved that not all rich people are evil, and based off of Mr Pennyworth’s stories the Waynes weren’t bad either. Though based off of the others’ reactions perhaps he should wait to mention that there wasn’t one new family member but three…
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If somebody in your life offers to knit or crochet or, really, create anything for you, please be an active participant in the creation of the piece they are making. I adore making and gifting things, but nothing bums me out quicker than a person who passively just goes "okay," to my ideas about what I'm making them - it can send the message that they won't like it, or that they don't care, even if they're happy about my offering. The back-and-forth feedback is a great way to make sure that you are being gifted something that was truly worth the time, effort, expertise, and money that will inevitably go into the gift!
I know it's really hard to be an active participant, believe me, I'm an anxious ball of horror, but it will only do good for both parties to interact in this situation. It is a big deal to be offered a hand-crafted gift, but it's also something we want you to love and use, and that can only happen if you tell us what would make you fall in love with what we create.
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thinking about my s10 mumbo headcanons again
him very obviously limping but being stubborn because "It'll get better, that's how respawn works" be he has to keep dying over and over just to get into his base, so the pain is semi permanent at this point
Scar noticing and forcibly gifting him one of his spare canes that he has since he has the same problem (although a lot more permanent), and Mumbo being all fumbly and dismissive because he doesn't do well with receiving gifts from anyone and just any kind gestures
But he soon realizes that he finally has something that reminds him of Scar, the same way he has Iskall's friendship bracelet, Grian's feather
He starts using it every day whenever he needs to walk
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If you're having a bad day but think you don't deserve someone or even yourself being nice to you:
Shane, even at his lowest, has the farmer want to see him and care about hearing how he's doing. Even when he was at his meanest/lowest points in the game, everyone that collectively put in the effort to see those hearts with him rise up knew what they were walking into. They still came by sometimes every single day they could to give him something they hoped he liked and talked to him to see how he was doing. They genuinely wanted to see him smiling and happy with his aunt and niece and get better. Whether platonically or romantically they care for him
You deserve your own farmer.
You deserve to treat yourself like how the farmer treats Shane when they're trying to get his heart events
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Sometimes I think about the MP100 S3 finale and Reigen saying "You don't need me anymore" but never saying anything about him not needing Mob anymore, how it was basically a goodbye and that's why he started to cry, because he wanted it to last forever, because he's going to miss him more than anything, and the fact that afterwards we skip six months into the future where the city is fixed, where Tome works at Spirits & Such alongside Serizawa, but there are no new desks so it implies that Mob no longer works there, that he's moved on with his life and is only visiting a fond memory by attending Reigen's birthday, making up for the last one he missed, throwing cake in Reigen's face because the reverence is gone they're no longer Master and Disciple but they're still old friends even if they've grown rapidly apart, and how Reigen was holding back tears seeing everyone there but in particular facing Mob's direction, and in the spinoff Reigen looks up at the fake Mob who's still in his school uniform and he doesn't even fight back against it even though he has to know it's not real because he misses those days even though he knows he shouldn't—and then I just
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Hello! We were wondering if you were planning to host the "Let Papyrus Say Fuck Day" again this year. If you are, will it be on June 16 like last year? We are hoping to include it in our monthly events updates. Thank you!
Yep! I'm super excited for it! Really looking forward to it because I've actually managed to draw something this year (I do feel bad about not personally participating in previous years) and I'm hoping to get another thing done for it. And yes it's on June 16th, where it will remain every year that I do this (for clarity's sake, that way no one is stuck thinking it's that day if I were to change it to another). I will be doing this perhaps every year until the end of time (I do not plan to die).
I hope a bunch of people will be able to participate again this year. :>
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true strength — batman secret files (2018) #1
(ID below cut!)
[ID: A short story with a guiding narration:
His knuckles ache with each blow, bone grinding into bone. The criminals shout what they always shout. And Superman comes from above. — We're shown Batman fighting against several men that are trying to overpower him. He blocks an attack as he strikes another man. Above him, in the far distance, Superman is soaring through the air to get to him and help.
Superman gives a speech. They've been friends for so long. Colleagues. Soldiers in the fight. Superman knows his soul, he says. He knows he's a good man, he says. — Now, in the safety of the Batcave, Batman sits in front of his computer desk. He's facing Superman, who's standing in front of him with his hand outstretched. He opens his fist to reveal what he's brought.
Inside the Phantom Zone there is an impossible universe. Inside the impossible universe is an impossible planet. On the impossible planet is a small, impossible rock. Platinum Kryptonite. — Bruce pushes his cowl off as Superman presents the radiant silver rock to him.
It gives you powers. Powers like Superman's. Superman tells him to touch it. “Just touch it, Bruce, just once, and it lasts a lifetime. Then you can fight as I fight, as you should fight. With true strength.” A smile. A whoosh. Superman leaves. — Superman leaves the Kryptonite on the desk before he departs. Bruce doesn't move any closer. He stares at it somberly, deep in thought.
He looks at the gift. His mind wanders. — A red-tinted multipanel sequence shows Bruce imagining a scenario if he did gain Superman's powers. A woman is being held hostage by the Joker. She has a gun pressed to her temple as she stares at Batman with fear. Silently begging him to help and to save her like how he's saved countless others. The Joker pulls the trigger. But before she can be another person he couldn't possibly save, Batman's eyes glow with red electricity. He vaporizes the bullet with heat vision before it can even finish leaving the barrel.
He keeps his hands at his side. His knuckles ache. At least two of them are broken. Footsteps echoing down the stairs. The smell of stirred milk and white sugar. A polite clearing of the throat. Alfred says nothing. Their routines are well established, words are unnecessary. — Bruce continues to stare intensely at the well-intended present as Alfred approaches him with a tray. Bruce finally tears his gaze away from the Kryptonite to look at his lifelong friend before looking down at the steaming teacup that Alfred hands him.
His hand shakes. His loose knuckles stab into his skin. He can’t hold on. He always has before. But now he can’t. — His hand continues to tremble and before he can take a single sip of the hot drink, the cup is shattering against the ground.
The pain is not great. Not as great as it has been. Not as great as a bullet burrowing, or a back breaking, or a knife sinking into his throat. This is nothing. But still. His knuckles ache. — Bruce grabs his own gloved hand, cradling the back of his broken knuckles. He looks up and quietly asks, “Alfred. Am I enough?”
END ID]
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