#Who is the baby? No one knows

[snapback-gravity-falls]

Sail Away With Me

Summary: In this dimension, Stanford tries to sail away with Stanley.

This fic is inspired by and based on this comic. Thank you @daidz-art for making this beautiful comic! (Cross-posted on AO3)

It was supposed to be fine. Everything was supposed to work out.

But it didn’t.

West Cost Tech had rejected him.

If it had been because his project truly wasn’t up to snuff, he would have been fine with that. He would have been able to move on.

But his twin did this.

He had taken away the only opportunity either of them had to get away from New Jersey. Of course he’d have been by himself in the school, but he’d have scraped up enough money after college to bring his brother to him. That had been the plan.

It wasn’t the plan anymore.

He yelled without regard to how his twin—the only other one that mattered other than himself—flinched, without really paying attention. He saw his future—their future—shattered before his eyes. It hadn’t involved treasure hunting because that wouldn’t have been viable, but it would have been something. It would have been better.

It wasn’t so much the words that had snapped him out of his angry stupor, but it had been the seething voice that slithered down his spine. It wasn’t a roar, but it didn’t have to be.

Filbrick Pines could make himself heard without even raising his voice.

Stanley stared up at their father with fear written all over his face. “Wait, no, I can explain! It was a mistake!”

“A mistake?” He shoved his son down onto the couch and stared at him for not even a heartbeat before he stormed out of the room.

“Stanley, what happened?” Caryn demanded as she bounced the crying baby.

He didn’t even look at his twin, he was busy looking down the hallway where they could hear Filbrick riffling through things. “I-I broke—Ford’s project. It was an accident though, I swear. It was still moving when I left so I thought it was fine.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “You should’ve told me! I could’ve fixed it last night.”

Stanley looked over at him, eyes wide and pitiful in a way that they had never been before. “I—”

Footsteps started down the hall and everyone went quiet as the storm rolled in. There wasn’t time to ask any questions because before they knew it, he had grabbed Stanley and started hauling him down the stairs.

Caryn started after him. “Fil—”

“No, you’re not gonna get him outta trouble this time!”

Stanford knew what would happen—it was inevitable with their father’s temper. He went to their room, determined to give Stanley the silent treatment when he was returned with red marks on his back and legs. Stanley always squirmed.

Upon opening the door, he saw the window was open and clothes were strewn about in a way they hadn’t been when he left earlier that evening. It was clear to him that their father had rifled through their room, but why would he open the—

He heard the front door open downstairs and rushed to the window to look outside just in time to see his twin sitting on the sidewalk with their father standing over him. His eyes weren’t drawn to the two men, but rather to the duffel bag that sat beside Filbrick’s feet.

He threw the duffel bag down before he walked back out.

He had been packing Stanley’s things.

He was kicking Stanley out.

The bag was thrown into his twin’s chest, and he barely managed to catch it for all of his shock. “Stanford, tell him he’s bein’ crazy!”

He gaped down at the scene, unable to quite process what was happening.

He couldn’t kick out Stanley. He was just supposed to give him licks and send him back upstairs. He was supposed to give him a lecture and take away privileges. Stanley wasn’t supposed to be thrown out of their lives.

“Filbrick, what are you doing?”

“Quiet, Caryn!”

That snapped him back to reality. “Pa, this is crazy! You can’t kick Stan out!”

Because for all his faults, Stanley was the one that had been there for him most. When their mother was distracted and father was ignoring them, they had each other to rely on. They were brothers—twins—and that meant something.

“You stay outta this unless you wanna tag along with him!”

There it was. Exactly what Stanford had expected.

He was one mistake away from being kicked out, too. It hurt. It made him angry.

As much as he wanted to go to WCT, as angry as he was with Stanley, he couldn’t… he couldn’t live with the thought of his brother on the streets.

Because that’s where he’d end up and that’s where he would stay. Stanley was more stubborn than anyone else in their family. They wouldn’t see him again until he made millions… if he made millions. How could a kid without a high school diploma make that kind of money?

He couldn’t.

The worst part was… he could see Stanley dead in a ditch without any of them knowing.

And that made up his mind.

“Fine!” He yelled back, turning on his heel and hurriedly packing his own things. He turned to shout out the window, “We can make it on our own!”

After he was sure he’d gotten everything they would need—including the money they had stashed away—he ran downstairs and pushed past their father.

“Can’t we just talk about this?” Caryn pleaded. “Boys, come back inside.”

“No, Ma, he made his choice!” Stanford pointed to their father. “Shermie wouldn’t even come around if it weren’t for us—” He gestured between their ma, himself and his twin. He didn’t break eye-contact with the towering man. “—and when we’re all gone, no one’s even gonna visit your grave.”

“You’re not thinking clearly,” Filbrick stated, voice low and warning.

“Well, neither are you.” He turned and pushed his twin towards the car. “C’mon Stanley. We’re leaving.”

He got into the passenger’s seat and threw his bag between his feet, refusing to look back at their parents. If he looked at their Ma, he would break and go back, but he couldn’t—wouldn’t—leave Stanley.

“Ford, are you s—”

“Just drive!”

With a sigh, the car was started, and they were driving away.

They would need a plan.

Moses, what would they do?

“If the college board isn’t impressed with my experiment tomorrow, then okay. I’ll do the treasure-hunting thing.”

“Take us to the beach,” he said suddenly, staring at the road ahead with his mind filling with broken dreams and childhood fantasies in place of the weight of reality.

“Go home, Stanford.” Stanley had never sounded so tired before, so resigned.

He couldn’t think of that: of his brother’s sudden change in mood or reality. He could only follow through on his promise.

Their promise.

“The beach, Stanley! Drive us to the damn beach!”

There was a long silence before he wordlessly turned the car to take them on the familiar route.

His hands shook in his lap, but he ignored that.

They would set sail tonight and reach the next port by morning. He’d use the money they’d scraped up the past year and a half to get supplies. They’d been fishing enough to know how to survive. They would take work on the docks, rent out their ship for tours. They could do it.

He would make it happen.

The car parked and there was the beach.

Dark water kissed the pale sand under the pale moonlight. In the distance, the silhouette of the Stan O’War stood proud like a beacon calling to him.

He grabbed their bags when Stanley didn’t move and got out of the car, determined. They would come back for the car tomorrow, for now they needed to set sail and let the ocean wash everything away.

He threw the bags up onto the deck and pushed against the boat. After a moment of it not budging more than an inch, he realized his twin was still off to the side looking at him.

“H-help me push the boat,” he panted.

He couldn’t do it alone. Neither of them could ever do anything alone. He should have known better.

They could go, they could run.

They could disappear into the night.

“Ford…” Quiet—Stanley was never quiet—and resigned—Stanley never gave up.

Why was he like this? Didn’t he say this was the silver-lining? They could sail around the world and hunt treasure—he said that was the plan wasn’t it? Stanford had promised him this would be their fall back. They had to sail away.

He turned and started pushing against it with his back, looking at his brother with desperation. “We’ll go sailing together! Just help me!”

Stanley lowered his eyes, dejected. “Stanford, stop… just go home.”

Go home? That place wasn’t home without laughter and Stanley was the only one that made them laugh. He was still upset, but he couldn’t let his brother go without him. He couldn’t lose him forever.

The thought alone made his chest tight and vision blurry. “Stop saying that!”

Stanley glanced at him but couldn’t hold his gaze. He looked so broken and tired. It wasn’t the Stanley he knew.

“I… I don’t wanna go home without you.”

A weak, sad chuckle. “You must be pretty stupid if you wanna run away with me.”

There was so much inside him—anger, sorrow, anxiety, and emotions he wasn’t sure had names—and somehow, despite knowing so many words, he couldn’t find any to express everything he felt he needed to. What came out was immediate and desperate; it made his raw voice crack and hands shake.

“I said we’d go sailing if WCT failed! It failed!” His hand fisted his own shirt. “I promised!”

Stanley grimaced and rubbed the back of his neck. “I know… but sometimes promises break.” He looked up with quiet, dejected earnestness. “You can make something of yourself if you go back. You don’t have to be a fuck up like me.”

“Stop that! I’m not leaving you—never!”

“You think I’m gonna die out there on my own… don’t you?”

His breath hitched.

He wanted to deny it. He wanted to shake his brother and tell him that he was amazing even if everyone else thought differently. He wanted to be angry at him for ruining his chances at getting into the college of his dreams, to demand to know what he was thinking, to get that goddamn look off of his face so he could be mad at him properly!

Most of all, he wanted to go back in time to fix everything so Stanley wouldn’t have to look at him like that.

His knees gave out from under him, and he sat heavily in the sand, back pressed against the boat as a sob escaped his lips. His hands moved as they always did when he cried: pushing his glasses up so he could hide his face without smudging them and tangle his fingers in his hair.

“I don’t wanna lose you,” he confessed through the tears.

It felt as if there was an eternity before he noticed a warm body sitting next to his. When he looked over, Stanley was staring at the stars above them, head leaned back against their boat. He’d known Stanley every day of their lives and he had never seen him look so old and tired. Would he always look like this if he was alone?

“I always thought it was you and me against the world,” Stanley said quietly, chest heaving. “Now I know better.”

“Stanley—”

“We both know that you shouldn’t be here.” He turned to look at him with tears streaming down his cheeks and a sternness that hadn’t been there before. “Go home. I’ll be okay.”

Without thought, he grabbed Stanley and pulled him close, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. “No, not without you. It’s you and me against the world—always.”

Fingers dug into his shoulder, but he was neither pushed away nor pulled closer.

“Go home.”

“No.”

“Plea—… please, just go home.”

“No.”

[artkaninchenbau]

Crocodile finds a strange stray cat an 11-year old Nico Robin (AU where they met 13 years earlier. Robin's been on the run from the World Government for 3 years. Crocodile's 27 and has not set up base in Alabasta yet)

It seems like I have become possessed. By some sort of demon.

Bonus:

[nnobodoodles]

Straw Hat Redraws! 👒🏴‍☠️

It's not much, but I've been slowly trying to get back into drawing & figuring how to draw this silly bunch has been really relaxing! :')

[egophiliac]

like mother, like son, but less wholesome this time?

(I couldn't decide whether or not to put them together, so have them in all the different ways!)

[hailsatanacab]

A Persuasive Argument - dpxdc

"Great!" Danny says, clapping his hands together to get everyone's attention. The dinner table falls silent as everyone looks towards him. It's a full house today and, honestly, Danny's a little nervous. "I'm sure you're all wondering why I gathered you here today."

"It's dinnertime. In our house." Duke mutters, while doing a very bad job of concealing his yawn. He holds his fork poised over the braised beef, but, just like everyone else, still looks towards Danny before tucking in. It's intriguing enough to wait.

"Yeah, no one misses Alfie's dinner." Dick says, with a brilliant smile that Danny can't help but return.

"Precisely! What better time to talk to you all than when you're all actually here!"

"Wait, I thought you came round to work on our English essays?" Tim asks, blinking owlishly.

"I'm afraid I've lured you here under false pretences, Tim."

"This is where I live."

"I would still really appreciate help on that essay though, I mean, what the hell is Hamlet even about? I just don't get that old time-y language, like 'Hark! A ghost hath killed me!' - absolute rubbish, what does that even mean?"

"The ghost never kills anyone in Hamlet, he's there to tell Hamlet that he was murdered. Have you actually read it?"

"No, but it sounds like you have. Tim, I want this guy to help me with my essay instead. I know for a fact that you haven't read Hamlet, either."

"So? We don't need Jason, I've read the Sparknotes."

"Hi Jason, I'm Danny, pleasure to meet you, summarise Hamlet in three sentences or less."

"Am I auditioning to help you write your essays? I can't believe you’ve gone through your whole school life without reading it, it’s good!"

"Hamlet, along with a number of other classics, was banned in our house because it portrayed ghosts as intelligent and sympathetic beings rather than evil, animalistic beasts. I didn’t even get to see The Muppet's Christmas Carol until last year with Tim! It was surprisingly good, and I hate Christmas because everyone always argued and it sucked. But we're getting off topic. I—"

"No, no, please go back to that, because what the fu—"

"Boys, please." Bruce interrupts, looking to the world as if he wants to hang his head in his hands. "Danny, you were about to say something?"

"Oh, yeah, Mr. Wayne! Thanks!"

"Please, call me Bruce."

"Well, that very succinctly brings me to my point, because I'd actually really like to call you dad."

Nobody says a word. Nobody even blinks, all as shocked as the other, watching open-mouthed as Danny pulls his laptop out from beside his chair. Bruce can definitely feel a headache coming on.

"Before you say anything, I've prepared a 69 slide PowerPoint presentation on why you, Bruce Wayne, should adopt me, Danny Last-Name-Pending. Please save your questions, comments, and verdict until the end, thank you."

[lazycranberrydoodles]

english translation book 5 baby we are in the ‘people assuming kid form hua cheng is xie lian’s son’ era 🔥🔥🔥 / follow for more hualian silliness

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 169

Danny is from a world where everyone has wings, even if most have long since lost the ability to fly. Something about loading and aspect ratio, wings being too small, body too heavy, now mostly used as display, whatever. 

It doesn’t matter even if he had blueprints from when he was like six of a jetpack to help fly. It won’t work anyway and hey, he has his ghost form! Which uh, might be perhaps, affecting his wings which were maybe sort of scorched black and practically down to the bone thanks to the accident. 

It doesn’t matter, he swears. Though he’s admittedly relieved to see the new feathers growing in are different from Dan’s angry sunset. Even if they’re not even supposed to be able to grow back. Alright, this is fine, no one is going to notice! It’s not like everyone knows about the poor Fenton kid whose wings were absolutely destroyed thanks to an accident! It’s fine. 

He’s not flying in a half-panic towards the Far Frozen while crying because his wings are coming back and he’s so scared. He didn’t panic and instantly fled the moment Jazz pointed them out while changing the bandages. 

He definitely didn’t trip over something while wiping away said tears and blacking out from all the stress and all of his problems that he definitely mentioned to someone and isn’t keeping a secret. Definitely. 

Hawkwoman and Hawkman would like everyone to know that neither of them were expecting a very small child to be spat out of the villain of that week’s machine that should definitely not be a portal. A very small child, maybe nine or ten, with a multitude of concerning wounds both old and fresh. Which isn’t even beginning to touch on the wings. 

Feathered, like baby down despite the gnarled scars, unlike their own metallic, with the beginning of tiny specklings like stars amidst the darker fuzz peeking from the wounded flesh. 

Who?! Who dared?! It’s (at least to the forever reincarnating duo) a literal baby! They still have down! Tiny baby fuzz! Was it the portal?! Oh this villain is going to taste their maces for causing this if that’s the case! 

The rest of the Justice League would honestly like to know what just happened and are honestly unsure on if they should stop the two…

[jazzyjesse]

working at a grocery store has only made me even angrier about inflation and how food, water, and shelter isnt free

like just looking at groceries (not water or shelter) i see just a few bags (maybe around 5 or so) of food costing over $125 USD regularly. I've seen orders upwards of $600. and sure those have been bigger orders but no food should cost that much.

my coworkers and i shouldn't be complaining about the price of food when we get employee discounts.

a single bag of food for myself (usually containing some small pizzas, crackers, milk, and cereal) regularly costs between $50-60. minimum wage in my state is 15/HR. thats about four hours of work for one bag of food

a coworker who works on the front end of our store prides herself on being able to catch theives. everyone says how good she is at it. and sometimes it makes sense, sometimes people are just stealing to steal. but how do you ever know?

when the card reader we take outside is broken we are supposed to have the customers come inside to pay for their groceries if they're paying with EBT. there's a woman who's a regular who has a few small children and when she comes to pick up groceries they're usually asleep in the car.

am i supposed to make her choose between leaving her children alone in the car or waking them up and taking them inside?

four hours of work for one bag of groceries. is this not also theft?

four hours of work. let that sink in. four hours for one small bag of groceries.

we aren't supposed to accept tips but if we don't accept tips then how else are we supposed to afford our groceries?

i haven't seen a single person stealing food. you cannot steal whats already stolen.

although im no longer a christian, the teachings of my childhood have stuck with me, and in the bible it says "When you reap the harvest of your land, do not reap to the very edges of your field or gather the gleanings of your harvest. Leave them for the poor and for the foreigner residing among you."

society has reaped right up the the very edge and beyond of its fields, so it's up to us to reap what we can

four hours of work for one bag of food

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

"Let's play a game of 'How well do you know your kids?'" The being shouted, eyebrow still twitching from Robins latest remark.

"I know all my children perfectly." Batman growled at the entity. He held his ground as the spirits (demons?) smile sharpened, "Than you won't mind!"

A puff of purple glowy smoke engulfs then entire area and the next thing anyone knows is that all of Bruces children, even the ones who weren't with them previously, are locked inside magical cages while Batman is trapped in a invisible mime box with a podium and a microphone in what is quite possibly the most garish game show set up ever.

Why was everything neon green and purple? Why was the guy neon green and purple? Who were these other kids-gdi Bruce! You have more kids?

Danny could just transform and beat up the ghost. Its a pretty weak one after all. But this one doesn't seem to recognize him as a halfa and this seemed like the perfect opportunity to do his homework without being attacked.

Jason stared at the kid next to him. What kinda life did this kid have to calmly get out his math homework and start solving problems while being held hostage by an unknown entity?! And with the bats no less?!

All the while Batman is getting peppered with questions about his kids and is realizing he doesn't recognize a few of the names.

[anna-scribbles]

they should've been at the club(infertility treatment centers)

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Welcome to the Dungeons of Fear and Hunger.

[little-pup-pip]

Cherry Blossoms!!

[twistedappletree]

i love lan jingyi because he’s so intelligent and quick-witted but he’s also that kid whose friends would have to call the fire department after he gets stuck in a baby swing

[beanghostprincess]

I understand Garp, I truly do. But personally if my grandson were about to be executed just for existing after years of asking himself if he deserves to live, idk, I think I would've gone on a fucking rampage and had killed everybody

[apathyfairy]

last year i found a wii at goodwill for 25 dollars and it came with everything except a wiimote but it was in such good condition i was like hell yeah ill take it how hard can it be to find a wiimote. the answer is it's nearly impossible to find them at thrift stores now so i've spent like 8 months looking for ones in thrift stores but there wasn't a single one and then online but i just couldn't bring myself to spend 30 dollars on one single wiimote so i waited so. patiently. and then 2 weeks ago i finally found one at goodwill for 9 dollars but it was absolutely disgusting and the battery cover was missing and the compartment was all corroded so i put it back and regretted it the whole week but then this last weekend i went to savers and there was an absolutely perfect wiimote just sitting there with no corrosion and a jacket and the wrist strap and motion plus and the nunchuck was there too and i got it all for 10 dollars so the moral of the story is that sometimes things seem right for you in the moment but you have to recognize that they aren't and leave them behind so the things that are meant for you will in fact find you when the time is right. peace and love <3

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 100

“What are you, a Kent?” 

It’s a saying in the world of the supernatural. A well-known one even. See, several, many generations back, no one quite knows when, the Kent family managed to run afoul of a particularly nasty creature who laid a curse upon them. The original wording, no one quite knows either, but the gist, everyone is aware of. For no firstborns will be born to them before they already have one. 

It was supposed to be airtight in a way, a curse that would end the entire bloodline really. For a child to exist before they could have a child? How could that be? 

Well. That curse had… backfired. It had backfired massively. Most, at least back when blood was everything, didn’t exactly ponder things like adoption to those outside of their own bloodline. The Kents however, lived in a very simple village, one that had disease spread through it often back then, leaving families childless and children parentless. 

What were they to do but take them in? And so they had a son, many sons and daughters even, before their firstborn. Now of course, most would simply dismiss it afterwards. After all, that was the end of the story, isn’t it? 

Well, no. See, the curse was a family-line curse, a just in case perhaps, that meant that each generation could not have any children until they had children. Perhaps it should have ended there, but well. It didn’t. 

Kents are a strange breed in the world of the supernatural, known for having a… bit of an adoption problem. If any child or babe were to be left near their land, one can be assured the family line would take them in as their own. 

Fae, demon, human, changeling, satyr, cyclops, half-breeds, werewolf- it didn’t matter. A Kent would gladly pick the child up and raise it as their own. And now, they could add aliens to that long, long list in the family line. 

And really, perhaps with this context, is it really surprising that when one Clark Kent, said alien, opens his door to a basket on his doorstep holding a trio of godlings, he takes them in with no questions asked?