#and it will kill so many people

[theonethinginlife]

.

[danmeichael]

shout out to shen qingqiu for being the most controversial mxtx lead despite also being the only one who isn't a serial killer.

[chloeplayz]

“The ringmaster gone mad.”

“For you are the decaying society,

And me, a hare with a tiger’s mask.

So tell me, ringmaster, tell me,

Tell me to control my wrath.”

[thebrainrotsreal]

Drew this real quick because I fucking love these two so much ???? Especially Bee. I wish they interacted more so badly. PLEASE.

Also learning how to draw these guys.. slowly.

[celine-song]

LOGAN (2017) dir. James Mangold

[heartorbit]

find another role, carry on the show

[timberlakefan96]

Here, I made an easy-to-understand infographic. Hopefully this helps people understand

UPDATED BECAUSE FUCK

[bartistic]

tim, drunk and coerced into a game of two truths and a lie with jason, dick, and steph: okay ummmm i— haha. i have the highest body count in the family, Lobo has a contract out on me and… PFFT i’m dating a guy

jason, also drunk: well the gay thing isn’t news but i call bullshit on the body count, you’re like 15. the fuck did you do to get Lobo after you?

steph, the only sober one, eager to sow chaos: oh Lobo would never kill Tim, they’re buddies. they’re going out for disc golf on saturday.

dick, possibly the drunkest: tim. tim what do you mean you’ve got a body count higher than B’s. our father is a slut.

tim: nonono Bruce doesn’t kill :( that’s his Ruleeee

jason: TIMMERS. WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU’VE GOT A BODY COUNT.

tim: ahahaha do you guys have any idea how many assassins i’ve blown up?

steph: TIM. WHAT

tim: [cartoon explosion noises]….KERPLOOEY

[umblrspectrum]

hi heres art so you pay attention to me now go read the tags

[tategaminu]

[nouverx]

crawls in here

Humbly requests more of your human! Al bc I’m unapologetically obsessed with him👀….

GOOD because I am also obsessed with him

He's 29 Mimzy!! Run!!

[maomango-doodle]

Getting to know people

Based on @acetrigunweek day 3's quote

[astrowarr]

grian's widows curse is so haunting this season. and i think the reason it feels so much more potent is the way he's been involved with his teammates' deaths, and the helplessness that plagues him as a result

in third life, last life, and double life, he was directly responsible for his allies' deaths. they died by his hand or through his own actions: scar, mumbo, jimmy, bigb, scar again. it was a very crazed version of the widows curse, reeking with desperation, but most importantly, grian had a choice. he chose to kill all of them of his own free will. in dl scar's case, he put himself in a situation that would get them killed. he was present for the deaths in these seasons in the most violent of ways: he orchestrated them.

then we jump to limited life. he lost jimmy and joel, but this time, he didn't kill them. jimmy had a freak accident and joel died in the heat of battle. he watched both of them die right in front of his eyes, but it had nothing to do with him. he was never at fault, and had no reason to feel helpless; these were just things that happen, after all. part of the game. but he still bore horrific witness.

secret life is special because grian didn't watch etho or cleo die, nor did he have any involvement in their deaths, unless you count his absence. still, the curse was fulfilled; they both died before him. because it's not even just his presence that kills everyone he loves, but his mere affiliation. and yet he can't bear to be alone.

now we get to wild life, and it's special too. it's unique in the sheer helplessness grian feels. mumbo and skizz's deaths are objectively not his fault. but he sure feels like they are, with the guilt lining the graves he dug for what remained of them. because not only do they happen right before his eyes once again, but they didn't have to happen. he was utterly powerless. they both died to the tower that he built because he couldn't just... protect them better.

he couldn't save them. there was no choice here. all he could do was watch. it was completely out of his control, and that's something that haunts grian with as much urgency as the ghosts of his friends. because who is he if he's not in control? who is he without friends?

[symphonyofsilence]

What drives me even more insane about this scene is how you'd expect Gojo to imagine High school era! Geto in the crowd. Or at least not the cult leader, worst of all the curse users Geto Suguru. But no, it's the cult leader Geto. It's Geto as Gojo last remembered him. As Geto last was. Whatever choices Geto made, wherever his choices led him and them, however he was, whoever he was, traumas and messed up ideas and bad choices and ill reputations and scorns and all. Gojo wanted Geto Suguru there. Not any ideal version. Not any "what if" version. Not any "at some point in time before things went downhill" version. Not any "when your hands weren't stained with innocent blood" version. He knew very well what he wanted. And he wanted it all the same. He wanted Geto Suguru. However he was. He just wanted him to be there. He just wanted him to be.

And he didn't want him to help him, he didn't want him to fight with him even if they were strongest together and always fought together for a while. He just wanted him to be there in the crowd and cheer him on. He just wanted him to stand there and give him one of his sweet, heartwarming smiles that shaped his eyes into crescent moons. He just wanted him to be. Then even if Gojo had died in the end anyway, he would have been satisfied. It would have been worth it. Only if Geto was there.

[keferon]

Just dropping by to say how much I love your art style as well as how silly you make my mans look, I also saved some personal favorites

I must also add that I LOVE fox!Rodimus dearly

He's mye precious little war criminal ehehe

[starry-bi-sky]

Blood Blossom Au: Baby's First Commissioner Meeting :)

TL:DR This Post: Danny (orphan) gets poisoned with blood blossom extract by Vlad. He runs away from him and ends up under the care of one Pre-Robin Battinson Batman! Starry is loudly pushing her batdad agenda.

(Also known as "Late At Night, When The Nightingale Sings" on my ao3!)

This was a fun rough idea I've been sitting on for weeks, thinking about how Commissioner Gordon and Nightingale's first meeting might go.

---------------

Commissioner Gordon likes to think that he's adjusting to the new normal of Gotham very well, -- the new normal being grown men running around dressed like bats, in military-grade strength body armor, committing acts of vigilantism, -- and slowly, little by little, he was no longer being surprised when this new normal pops up out of the shadows like the world's most terrifying daisy. His shaving lifespan thanks him for it.

....

The kid is a surprise though.

Granted, he seemed to be a surprise to the Bat too.

There's been a string of murders lately, -- which, in Gotham, is kind of like saying there's been another storm during monsoon season. And there's just been another; in some dilapidated building down in south Gotham, with the broken, boarded-up windows and mildew-crawling walls to match. The victim is a man in his thirties, multiple gunshot wounds to the chest, left in the center of the room for the blood to pool out around him.

The place is already secured when he arrives, the building swarmed with officers and the forensic detectives. The Bat emerges shortly after he does -- or, he might've been here the whole time, hiding someplace dark and shadowy. For his own sanity, Gordon doesn't think about it too hard.

The kid is a surprise, and he appears like a bolt of lightning.

He shows up in the middle of a conversation Gordon is having with the Bat.

A whistle, sharp and loud, slicing through the air, meant for open air rather than a confined space. Gordon's ears pierce and protest the sound, and the solemn, murmured chatter floating through the room abruptly cuts off like the swing of a gavel. As he turns towards the sound -- as they all do -- he swears, up and down, that he sees Batman's shoulders jump, just slightly.

At the source, perched on the window, is a boy. A boy in a gray-blue scarf and an oversized black hoodie, one that hangs off his frame and has ace bandages wrapped around the wrists in some attempt to cinch the sleeves. The hood is up, big like the rest of it, and threatens to swallow the upper half of the boy's face whole in the fabric. What upper half Gordon can see, is smeared with some kind of opaque, black face paint. He's holding onto the side of the frame with one hand, on his hip is a grappling hook. A familiar grappling hook.

Gordon has multiple questions, and his officers tense up.

Martinez puffs up, brows furrowing as his face shapes into a frown. Shoulders rolling back. "You can't be here, kid--"

The reaction is immediate, like a spark to gunpowder, the boy yanks his fingers from his mouth and his mouth twists into a scowl. Head snapping over to Officer Martinez, his hood manages to stay on but Gordon swears that as he bares his teeth, the glint makes them look sharper than they should be. His voice is rasp and quiet and harsh; snappish in its hissing; "Put a fuckin sock in it, Martinez. I'm not stayin."

Martinez reels back, and the boy immediately veers his attention off him. Like a switch, his demeanor drops. Despite half his face being covered, his mouth twists into a cringing, apologetic smile. Slanted and off-beat, embarrassed. It'd be disarming if this wasn't Gotham, and if he didn't just hiss at Martinez like he was about to bite his head off.

"Sorry." He whispers, voice deceptively polite and softer now. Gordon has to strain his ears to hear him. "I was looking for him."

He points his finger towards-- Gordon? No, Gordon follows the direction, and finds himself looking at -- the Bat.

The Bat, who always looks stiff as a pole, now looks even stiffer. Somehow. Well, the explains the grappling hook attached to the boy's waist.

"What are you doing here?" The Bat says, gruff and unable to completely smother the stumble of surprise in his tone.

The boy still holds a sheepish smile, and slips off the window ledge. His feet hit the creaky boards with a near-silent thud, the Batman finds his feet and rapidly begins crossing the room.

Gordon notes the slight tremble in the boy's legs as he straightens. He adjusts his scarf, which droops close to his knees now that he's standing, and slings a backpack -- how long has had that? -- off his shoulders. When the Bat reaches his side, he does as he always does, and looms over the boy like a spectre. A threatening mass of shadows cloaked in all-consuming black. Standing next to him, the boy looks teeny in comparison.

The Bat is a man who terrifies even the most hardened criminals, Gordon has seen grown men shiver in fear at the mention of his name. And yet when the boy looks up at him, he doesn't even flinch.

Instead, his sheepish smile melts away like ice under the sun, holding only traces of his previous embarrassment. It remains as a shadow on his face, a small upturn at the corners of his mouth. The boy pushes his hood back just enough to reveal glinting, ice-flint eyes surrounded in tar-black face paint. He holds the backpack up with one arm. "You forgot this."