#hire ninjas

[tizeline]

Well. Every tmnt artist has to turn them into humans eventually, I suppose.

Sorry for not posting a ton lately, I have been................. playing fire emblem three houses.............. busy............ Also I've been feeling a little burned out on art, admitedly. Don't worry, it's very much temporary! Last month was just pretty high tempo for me, expecially with the Cell Talk comic, so I just needed to take a short break from drawing to also play fire emblem but I'm getting back into an art-mood now! I decided to draw humanified turtles as a bit of a warm up basically, I've been wanting to do it for quite some time so it was just a fun little thing for me :]

Anyway, some thoughts about the designs-

A lot of people draw Leo as blonde, and I was fully intending to draw him blonde as well, but then I just wanted to see what he'd look like with brown hair instead and I just.... liked that a bit more, so he's a brunette now. Also he has dimples because of course he has dimples. And Mikey has freckles because OF COURSE he has freckles! And Donnie ALSO has freckles because he's my blorbo and I give all my blorbos freckles cuz they're neat. All of them have pretty small eyebrows except for Donnie because he fills them in with makeup. I thought for a while of how I would translate Leo's facial markings into his human design, and I ended up settling for birthmarks (also some red eyeliner cuz his face needs a bit of red on it)

[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.

[bambiraptorx]

i feel like all the fics where draxum does horrible/abusive things to one of the turtles go like this lol

[fabuloustrash05]

I always found it hilarious that in the 2012 series April was always able to sneak into Shredder’s lair using a broken window that he never bothered to fix.

[writer-room]

Rewatching the earlier, and even pilots episodes, of Ninjago are so WILD man. First of all, you notice all the things that are just plain forgotten about or pushed aside in later seasons. Kai originally being the main character, sure, we all know that one, but Cole was heavily implied to be, or become, the leader of the Ninja, that was Cole’s thing. Zane was automatically described with having a sixth seer sense, when nowadays it shows up very, very infrequently. Lloyd used to basically be the Avatar, does anyone remember that? This kid was just the Avatar.

And then you remember the silly things. Like how the skeleton army was once a threat. Like...the skeletons. We battled a giant snake, smaller snakes, robot armies, sentient video games, Garmadon a billion different times, the Overlord, Oni...and the skeletons used to be a worthy adversary. The skeletons.

Did you all remember that Cole’s earth dragon used to...breathe earth? I’ve been forced to remember. Rocky used to breathe earth as a form of attack. It was shown through brown swirly wisps in that beautiful, incredibly shitty 2011 effect. The Underworld used to be implied to be the place where all dead people went, or at least the bad ones. We never heard of a Departed Realm. Do we remember the time Cole had a scene that was a direct parody of Michael Jackson? I sure do. Genuinely the highlight simply because I don’t know how to describe the emotion I felt upon seeing it.

[mrfartpowered]

THANKS @what-the-juice FOR THE IMAGEEEE

[localaceken]

If Administration is really a business corp and Jay has been stuck in there for like 5 years I'm pretty sure he has lost it in the middle of year one of working there because he's Jay Walker.

He has given over a hundred 2 weeks notices "a man can fix one coffee machine too many times before snapping rebacca" he never heard back from his boss so he just kept.

Showing up at the office because he had nothing else to do.

Everyone else in the office is thankful for their boss who never fired him because for some reason Jay from Accounting is the only one who can fix the machines in the entire goddamn office.

Meanwhile Pixal throws away the 101st 2 weeks notice sent by Jay in the trash and continues searching for the rest of the gang.

[could-they-be-a-pro-wrestler]

EVENT POLL: ROAD TO FICTIONAL WRESTLEMANIA

MATCH 4: TRIPLE THREE TLC (Tables, Ladders, Chairs) MATCH FOR THE VACATED WORLD TAG TEAM CHAMPIONSHIP

[coyotejone-s]

GOOBERS GOOBERS GOOBERS GOOBERS (ignore that three of them are mildly-to-intensely fucked up due to how they were raised) GOOBERS GOOBERS GOOBERS

[tmntkiseki]

Randomly remembered during the Ninja Tribunal episodes that Chaplin created weapons that fused magic with technology and I kinda wish that had been explored more.

[idkwhatimdoingbutslay]

ADAPTATIONS DO NOT HAVE TO BE BAD ADAPTATIONS DO NOT HAVE TO BE BAD ADAPTATIONS DO NOT HAVE TO BE BAD ADAPTATIONS DO NOT HAVE TO BE BAD ADAPTATIONS DO NOT HAVE TO BE-

ADAPTATIONS ARE NOT INHERENTLY BAD ADAPTATIONS ARE NOT INHERENTLY BAD ADAPTATIONS ARE NOT INHERENTLY BAD ADAPTATIONS ARE NOT INHERENTLY BAD ADAPTATIONS ARE NOT INHERENTLY BAD ADAPTATIONS ARE NOT INHERENTLY-

[jyohan]

HEADSHOT COMMISSIONS!

[miqo-tales]

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Vanguard Mask of Scouting (Snow White / Storm Blue)

Vanguard Bolero of Scouting (Raptor Blue / Undyed)

False Nails (Raptor Blue)

Taoist's Slops (Raptor Blue)

Casual Boots (Undyed / Raptor Blue)

Rimless Glasses (Blue)

[casualexistence]

I was just trying to make moneyyyyyyy

My kenshi playthrough is going great :)

[le--fruitcake]

Hello my leige, Lord of the Gays. This humble servant requests that you part your most correct cartoons opinions onto us all so that we may partake of your wisdoms.

How could I refuse a polite request such as thine? But of course, my vassal. Prithee, give me a moment to collect my thoughts before I impart them unto thee.

I refer, generally speaking, to the spinoff show of my favorite comic series, Usagi Yōjimbo, called Samurai Rabbit: The Usagi Chronicles, as the "children's shows", though I may also refer to any of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles shows as well— more on this later.

In Samurai Rabbit, the main character Yūichi is obsessed with the exploits of his ancestor, Miyamoto Usagi (宮本 兎), the main character and protagonist of Usagi Yōjimbo. Many of the fans on tumblr.hell grossly mischaracterize Yūichi as having a style of nerdiness that is very painfully American (such as enjoying pop music instead of Shamito Nadeshiko, for example, which is almost certainly something that would play in Neo Edo, the city in which Samurai Rabbit takes place. Yūichi literally lives in Japan. He would not listen to American pop music, mostly because he does not have access to the Internet. nor does he speak English), when there is, in fact, a subgenre of Japanese nerdiness into which he fits (almost) perfectly. This subgenre is called 歴女, or "rekijo", which transliterates as "passage of time woman", but is used to refer to women and girls interested in pre-Edo period (1600s) Japanese history— essentially female Japanese history buffs, usually into samurai and such. Usagi Yōjimbo takes place in the early 1600s— the beginning of Japan's Edo period. Of course, Yūichi is not a woman, but the sentiment applies. I frequently and somewhat jokingly use the nonexistent term 歴男 (rekidan) to refer to him and myself, as I, too, enjoy Japanese history. I replaced the kanji for woman, 女, with the kanji for man— 男.

(By the way, this show is For Children, and the animation is kind of terrible. I hesitate to recommend you watch it, but at the same time, it has many lines I am always quoting in situations such as Work and Any Time I Hear the words "Syrup" or "Accident" or "Grape", and some legitimately funny jokes sprinkled in. Also, the Japanese dub, despite not being the original, still manages to be better in most cases. There are some bits I prefer in English, and some I prefer in Japanese.

This is unrelated to anything and more of a nitpick I have with the show, but they state his name is 兎 友一 [Usagi Yūichi], which would make his family name his ancestor's given name— something that does not really happen in Japan, according to my sister, who is fluent and studied much of the culture. His name should be 宮本 友一 [Miyamoto Yūichi], assuming there is an unbroken line of sons stretching back to Usagi because of the stupid way last names work under the patriarchy, or if any of the women of their lineage made their husbands take their last name, or something like that.)

In terms of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, it is important to note I got into this series because Usagi, the ancestor with which Yūichi is obsessed, frequently crosses over with them, in both comic and TV show forms, due to the authors of both comics being friends in real life. In fact, in every iteration of TMNT save Rise of the TMNT (which happens to be my favorite, despite this), there are at least two episodes that feature Usagi. I grew to like the Turtles independently, and made a post about them. In this post, I mentioned "having the most correct opinions about a children's show", and it is this that I quote all the time in my Esoteric Tags.

Anyway, Rise is the best Turtles because all of them are so well characterized, and the show has the very rare combination of good and stylized animation/acting, good characterization/writing, and a good story/premise. Usually, shows have one or two of the three, and you have to deal with the third being Just Good Enough to Keep Watching. Very much not the case with Rise, and I highly recommend starting with it if you want to get into TMNT. Music kinda slaps also. (This is a Correct Opinion because apparently, some people don't like this show. Somehow)

Side note about the crossovers: while the crossover with the 2003 TMNT is the most homoerotic (between Leonardo and Usagi), the 2012 crossover is the best, despite 2012 being my personal least favorite TMNT. Stan Sakai, the author of Usagi Yōjimbo, actually wrote two out of the three episodes, and they FINALLY got an actual Japanese person to play the Japanese character. That's a whole other can of worms I could open, but I'll leave that for another post, if I ever get around to making it. Suffice it to say, Japanese or Japanese-coded characters are, unfortunately, rarely, if ever, portrayed by Japanese people.

Hm. If I have any more Correct Opinions about Children's Shows, they are so correct in my mind I cannot fathom a world in which people don't think the same way I do, so I shall leave it here for now. I thank thee, my vassal, and pray you send me more asks like this in the future!

[kalscattergood]

Okay, so this is a long shot.

I'm looking for an artist to do some character sketches for an original animation series.

Stylistic influences include:

* 80s and 90s after-school cartoons

* Invader Zim

* TMNT

* Voltron

* Thundercats

* Boston Dynamics

I BELIEVE IN PAYING ARTISTS ACTUAL MONEY FOR THEIR WORK.

I'm looking for a total of 6-8 characters in full-body action poses. Would of course, like to see examples of the artist's style and portfolio before agreeing to compensation, and looking for someone who would be willing to chat at length about the series to get the right vibe.

Let me know.