@s-creations

They're soft and my brain hurts 🫠

I swear there is a reasonable explanation for this, it's just.. uh... Classified. Yeah.

Sorry to bother but did you change your tumblr name??

You're good, it's no trouble! To answer question, I dont think I've changed my name since I joined tumblr - it's always been southofsound, thanks for the ask tho <3

Guys

GUY

GUY

I am in too deep

I'm playing mario + rabbis sparks of hope

WHY DID NO ONE TELL ME HOW GORGEOUS THIS GAME IS???!!!! THE ANIMATION!!! THE COLORS THE EDGE RABBIS LADY

Look and my boi mario and luigi

I absolutely love this, and I raise you; Stealing Bruce's hoodies

Now, I don't think he'd be much of a hoodie guy, but things are starting to get a little chillier as fall is fast approaching gotham, and he sees all of his kids with them so he figures it must be worth at least trying, right?

The only issue is, he keeps losing his. He doesn't understand at first, he's sure that someone is fucking with him, because there's no way he could loose 6 hoodies without something happening to them. Loses one, buys another, loses that one, it's a vicious cycle, etc. He can only ever wear one for a couple weeks before - poof - they're gone, he can't seem to find them anywhere.

He's completely baffled until he catches Jason in the batcave, wearing a hoodie that seems just a little too big for him, it covers most of his hands and seems to droop a little farther than normal. Bruce squints a little at first, it strikes him as odd that Jason's hoodie was too large, it just wasn't his style. However, Upon further inspection, Bruce recognizes it as his own.

Jason, for one, is ecstatic to finally be on the receiving of someone larger's hoodie- I mean, sure, Dick's we're nice, but there was something guiltily comforting about the way the sleeves dropped a little past where they were supposed to, the way the fabric fell a little looser than normal and it smelled very vaguely of home, and safety. Not that he would ever say that to Bruce's face, but Jason was glad Bruce had gotten himself some hoodies- the unsuspecting fool.

Bruce, on the other hand, is little surprised, but not opposed. He hadn't really taken Jason for the kind of person to steal clothes, but, he thinks it's a kind of cute. Not that he would say that to Jason's face, lest risking the red hood's wrath, but there is no denying the warmth that blooms in his chest at the sight. He figures he should talk to him about the hoodies though, there's no way he could really need all six of them, surely.

Only, Jason doesn't have all six, as it turns out he is not the only one in the household to make a habit out of stealing the warm over-shirts. The next time Bruce spots one of his children sporting his hoodies, he's surprised to find Damian, of all his kids, sitting on a couch reading something in a hoodie that reaches down to nearly his knees. Bruce is nothing short of utterly perplexed, shocked to find his youngest child snuggled up in a hoodie that is much too big for him, completely unashamed as he flips a page.

There is an equally warm feeling that spreads through him this time, though it does nothing to quell his confusion. Bruce wants to inquire, wants to demand an explanation, but finds that either the question is too intimidating or he simply cannot bring himself to interrupt, he's not sure which. Instead, Bruce opts to pay a little more attention to how everyone is dressing, and it isn't long before he recognizes the patterns.

He catches Tim pacing around in one of Jason's leather jackets, watches as Cass sports a loose sweatshirt of Dukes while she works out, and notices when Jason borrow a warm, winter jacket from Dicks wardrobe one night at dinner. Bruce is fascinated by the bizarre ritual, though glad to be a part of it as he watches all six of his missing hoodies pop up across his myriad of wards, something warm and fuzzy pulling at his heart when he sees them.

Bruce considers buying one more hoodie, one for himself, to keep out of reach, but figures ultimately that it would be a waste, given all of the ones available to him. So, instead, Bruce shows up to the batcave one morning, tired but satisfied as he draws looks from his children, knowing full well why there's staring. Dick looks almost offended, but there's a grin in his eyes as Bruce sets his mug down on the coffee table, settling himself down in his chair.

He's well aware that the fabric fits a little snug against him, but it's warm and soft and he finds he likes it just as much as any of his own hoodies. Smirking a little as he takes a sip of his coffee, he finds he understands now, why everyone's stealing. Dicks hoodie feels warm, and safe, and personal, and a little like petty revenge for all of his abducted hoodies, and he loves it.

headcanon that the smaller batkids steal the bigger ones' hoodies and jackets. and by "bigger ones" I mean literally anyone bigger than them.

jason gets the short end of the stick because dick and all his little siblings take his. tim's the only one bold enough to go for the leather jackets (well, and cass, but they're way too wide in the shoulders for her) but it's not uncommon to find dick or stephanie in a dark red or gray hoodie that smells of motor oil and gunpowder.

damian usually takes dick's hoodies, but they're very oversized on him. on the bright side, there are thumbholes in the sleeves of all dick's hoodies, so he can still use his hands. the thumbholes make them a hot commodity in the winter.

there is a tim-steph-cass jacket pipeline. steph steals tim's hoodies and cass takes them from steph. hence tim stealing jason's leather jackets -- steph won't take them, so he gets to hold on to them until jason realizes and takes them back. sometimes cass will also steal duke's hoodies, but she always returns them clean and neatly folded (unlike how it goes with the rest of the family, in which they are returned only under threat of blackmail or with long rounds of negotiation).

this is an extremely long-standing ring of jacket theft. you cannot leave a hoodie unattended in wayne manor. damian doesn't actually own any hoodies, and cass only owns one, because there's so many other people in the house to "borrow" one from. nowhere is safe. steph once broke into dick's apartment to steal his warm hoodie, the one with the fuzz on the inside.

but it goes the other way sometimes. jason leaves things in the pockets of his leather jackets for tim -- film for his camera, hand sanitizer, half-filled punch cards for local coffee shops with "drink water too, fucker" written on the back. cass will tuck little slips of paper in the cuffed sleeves when she leaves hoodies out. the notes don't say anything, but they have little smiley faces and hearts on them, and steph has taken to doing something similar with corny jokes. dick just straight-up leaves candy in the hoods of his jackets.

it's a game, it's a love language. it's simultaneously annoyance and affection. there's nothing like wearing a hoodie that's too big for you, that smells like your family, to make you feel safe.

remember, adding a tiny goofing is always a good excuse when you're practicing hands

Y'all it is the first day of break I am feeling pumped and I am having WAYYYYY to much fun

G/T Fairytale

I'm currently writing this very elaborate g/t au fanfiction and I ended up making this as a sort of, fun exercise to get the plot down for the first act? Anyway, I turned it into a fairytale and it kinda works as a stand-alone thing, I like it a lot so I wanted to share it!

A Folktale for the Big and Small

Once, there was a young man in a world of giants. 

Eager to search the world for what little adventure it might offer, he left his small town in hopes of bigger stories. 

But in his search, rather than stories he found Massive, Vicious beasts. One such beast stole him away and locked him up in a tower so that he might never breathe free air again.

The young man, small as he was, passed many days and nights in the big bad man’s house, and feared that he was doomed to stay there forever. But, just when hope seemed at it’s lowest; The Big, Bad Giant’s sister helped the Young man escape. 

Go, she told him. And may my evil brother never find you, she said, before helping the Young man into the bag of another visiting giant.

The sister had promised the young man that this giant would be good to him, kind and honest. But the young man, too troubled by his imprisonment of the big bad man, did not take her heed. He hid himself from this new giant, even as they left the Vicious man’s tower together. 

Even as this new Giant brought them both to his home. 

The young man snuck out of this Giant's bag and hid, hoping for the perfect moment to escape. But to his horror, this new house seemed just as much a cruel, locked-up tower as that of the Big Bad Giant’s,. There was no way he could escape! 

Many days and nights he spent there, too, with no chance of escape. But in his stay here, this new Giant didn’t seem so bad. Not as bad as the Big Bad Man from before, at least.

He was clever, The young man could see when he watched the new giant talk to his giant friends. He was a talented cook, who loved to draw, and detested the rude. The young man rather liked this giant, he thought—brave and clever, never letting slip any discourtesy. Everything a gentleman should be.

As the young man stayed hidden in this new tower, over his many days and nights he began to grow attached to the place, to the New Giant. Eventually, he didn’t want to escape as much anymore, he even considered staying. 

 But the young man had grown complacent, clumsy even—leaving traces of his presence all over this new Giant’s house. And when the new giant finally realized what was going on, he was furious!

In a blind rage at such a discourtesy, at an unwelcome guest making a home in his house without so much as a word, he tore the tower apart to find this wrongdoer. 

But the young man was still clever as ever, especially after all his years living with the big, bad, giant. He managed to escape the new giant’s grasp, even if by no more than a hair. When The New Giant had looked in all the places he could think to, checked every cranny and opened every nook, he gave up. 

After all, he couldn’t continue to ruin his home all for one discourteous guest. Perhaps, with all this ruckus, the intruder had left and his search was fruitless after all..

But the young man had not left. He was frightened and reminded terribly of his old captor, but he could not leave even if he tried. 

 Still, the young man knew well that he had wronged this giant—-so he left him a note. Apologizing. Though he couldn’t leave his message without reprimanding the Giant for all of the hardship he had put the young man through—that was one dreadfully nasty fit of rage!

A little more sure in his ability, after evading the giant once, the young man grew more bold. He left traces behind, but in all the wrong places. He watched as the Giant tried and tried to find him—but he was always one step ahead. 

This young man had been watching for so long, that he could imagine anything the giant might do, and soon enough even the giant realized it. 

But the giant, the young man did not know, was lonely. Perhaps he had visitors, and perhaps he enjoyed their company, perhaps he had more people to converse with than he could ever wish for—but he was lonely.

His guests could never truly understand him. Could not see him. This young man, although it was hard to admit it, filled a hole in his heart that had been empty for many years. This trespasser, the young man, knew him. Saw him. 

And before long, where once the Giant had been filled with fury for the young man, he found love for him. 

He loved every clue. He loved every small, out-of-place book, every cup, pen or chess piece.

He loved it all. 

Without ever once seeing his face, this new giant loved the small young man as much as one could possibly love another. 

Eventually, the giant wondered if he stopped trying to hunt out the young man, if he would show himself. So he played along—He pulled the books open to his favorite parts, circled his favorite quotes. He filled the shifted cup with tea. Placed a blank sheet of paper beneath the discarded pen. Moved the next chess piece.

I am not angry, anymore, he tried so desperately to tell the young man. But he would not show himself.

Not after the big bad giant from before. 

The young man liked the giant, he enjoyed quotes and the tea, he drew for the giant and played chess with him. 

But he did not trust him. 

One night, their dance was interrupted. A giant, sent by the Big, Bad, man from the young man’s past had arrived. He was there to take the Young man back. 

He stormed their tower of books and tea and struck the young man’s giant, smashing in his legs and forcing him to the ground. 

The young man watched in horror, for he did not know what to do. But, he could not simply sit back and let this life he had so happily made for himself go. He would not let the big, bad giant take his drawings and his chess pieces from him. 

His giant lay on the floor, staring up at the intruder with wide, vicious eyes, fearful that these moments would be his last—but those eyes did not scare the young man. His viciousness did not faze him. They were his to protect.

With nothing more than a sewing needle, stolen from the Big Bad Giant a long, long time ago, the young man lept from the highest point in the tower he could find. With no small amount of strength or courage, the young man drove his blade into the back of the intruder’s neck, killing him instantly. 

He and the intruder crumbled to the ground, a great, booming crash flooding the tower at their fall—but the giant, his giant, heard none of it.

All he could hear was his heart, beating in loud in his ears. Still too hurt to walk, the giant could do nothing but watch as his beloved guest fell, killed, and crumbled.

You are beautiful, he managed to tell the young man, who was suddenly closer than he had ever been before—within arms reach.

You are so beautiful. It was all he could say, because he’d never beheld so much beauty in so small a thing, in nothing larger either though. 

The young man, after defending his giant with his life, finally came closer. Approached his host and wished to beg for forgiveness, but could not force the words out of himself. 

Because he himself was too busy thinking about how beautiful the giant was. They met halfway, the Young man taking hold of the giant’s fingers and then realizing something very, very special indeed.

He loved the giant too, even if it would take a long, long time, before he could ever tell him.

~The End~

The he ✨

I found an old drawing of one of my favorite stuffed animals and I actually kinda love this

Based off of he ↓

I'm so confused ?? Only 1 note here

I found this camera on the subway and look what was inside...