#how many people did he kill?

[probssomethingorother]

a man on a mission

source vids [x] & [x]

[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.

[vaguely-concerned]

the strength it must have taken for illario to not immediately go full 'lmao since when have you even had a kiss hello lucanis' sibling violence mode during the café talk. inspirational. rook and lucanis really were doing all that right in front of his salad huh

[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."

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

He was just being a silly little guy!

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[backpackingspace]

Odysseus with his head in his wife's lap, happily not paying attention to anything, humming one of athenas song and carving something

Some random guy: your majesty----

Odysseus: not bothering to sit up: whatever my wife decided is fine.

[weirdalfarnatic]

repost O_O second.. post...

[kanjichris]

"why don't you want him to know how much you love him?" "that's a little personal. he knows." "uh-huh."

[a2zillustration]

Went to end the day and Yurgir was just...standing there. Ten feet away from Yenna.

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[[ All Croissant Adventures (chronological, desktop) ]]

[[ All Croissant Adventures (app) ]]

[dollypopup]

I can't stop thinking about Colin on his travels. Colin, alone, on a journey to 17 different cities, across several countries. Colin on his own.

Colin who writes letter after letter, to his family, to his friends, and barely gets a response back. How long before he understands that they didn't get lost in the mail? How long until he realizes that, just like when he was a boy, no one has the time for him? The space for him? How many letters unanswered before he lets it finally take root and fester in his mind?

He could have died on that tour.

Would they even notice? Would they see when the letters slow until they cease? Would they wonder why? His mum, surely (maybe, possibly, but she has enough on her hands, besides, and he's never been a concern, in need of her assistance, before), but anyone else? Anthony on his honeymoon, Eloise a stormcloud personified, Benedict taking on the familial responsibilities, Fran preparing for the marriage mart and in Bath, regardless. Daphne, his closest sister, a mum running her own estate.

Greg and Hyacinth who enjoy his stories, but are children.

Pen who ignores him. No explanation, no goodbye.

Colin who has no one in his corner. Colin who travels city to city, putting on personas. Will they like me? What about now? Colin who has hardly anything to read from the people he loves. Who do not think of him.

And yet he thinks of them. Brings them back gifts, writes his recollections for them until it hits him that, oh, they don't care. They don't care what he's doing, how he's doing. They didn't want to hear it before, when he was there with them, and they do not want to hear it now, either. Did they even open those envelopes? Did they see them come through the post, just as proof he's alive, and shrug off the contents? Did they look? Once, Colin sends an empty page. No one notices. Easier, then, to send just the outsides. People only ever care about the outsides. Pretty and prim in neat packages, uncaring of what lies beneath. Sea sick on the rocking boats, staring up at stars on the continent, Colin grows aware, but not bitter. Sad, but resigned.

He loves his family, he loves Pen, loves them to grace, loves them to it's okay. It was him, he determines. Too chatty, his letters too long, uninteresting, his passions dull or droll, or else, worse, he's displeased them in some way. Colin who takes refuge in stranger's arms and homes, who dreams and tries to sate his curiosity. Colin who pretends, because anyone, anyone but him would be received better, he's sure of it. Colin who must talk too much, surely, and with no one to listen. Colin who learns to hush.

Yes. Remarkable- as in, I have many remarks about it.

How many times did he go to excitedly write of what he did that week, and stopped himself, knowing it was a waste? How many times did he write and throw into the fire a letter asking Why don't you see me? Why don't you care?

If he didn't make it, how long would it take for anyone to notice? A month? Two? A year? Would they wave it off as his frivolity, denounce him as a flake and fume about the funds? Would they wonder where it was he had lost himself off at?

He cannot fall into that, so, he writes in his journal, instead. Of the ache of it, of how he longs for connection, for understanding, for someone to take him seriously. He keeps it with him, this log of his discontent, of his folly and felicity, of his pitfalls and pains.

If he didn't make it, would they realize all that's left of him is what he sent them, not even a body to bury? Did he look over the side of a bow of a boat and look at the churn of the ocean and think of how many bones it held? Did he tip his face to the sun? How many new scars did he earn? Who did he befriend?

Who did he become?

Somewhere along the line, Colin learned. He learned the real him wasn't wanted.

Somewhere along the line, somewhere between Patmos and Paris, Colin left Colin behind.

And, somewhere along the line, Colin laid face to face with loneliness in his bed, and it wrapped its arms around him.

[theheirofthesharingan]

“Tell me, father, which to ask forgiveness for: what I am, or what I’m not?

Tell me, mother, which should I regret: what I became, or what I didn’t?”

- source

[beartes22]

Season 2 Jayce with season 1 Viktor this, beard Jayce with young Viktor that….fools, all of you. I raise you, season 2 arc 2 Viktor and season 1 Jayce.

[mephoj]

nickel and balloon would be so much more interesting if people explored the way nickel became everything awful that balloon used to be but so much worse ironically all in the name of "protecting" everyone from that history repeating. and not softboy tsundere yaoi or whatever is going on in those tags rn

[animangalover-writes]

Yk it really bothers me when I see people talking about eurylochus and the crew like they were the problem. It just feels like everyone is just missing the point. Yes they stopped listening to ody, yes eurylochus opened the wind bag, but that's what makes them so human.

Picture this, you leave your home to fight in a war. It takes literal years for this war to be over. You've lost friends, you miss your family, you've been through hell. You're starving and your captain tells you they found food on this island.

And then the cyclops happens. More friends die, you barely escape with your life, and your captain gives his name to the creature that killed your friends.

And everything after that is a direct cause of that decision.

So you hesitate to trust him. Yes he's smart, he's capable, he always has a plan. But he would do anything to get home, and you know that. So when he comes back to the ship claiming to have a bag full of wind, and when he refuses to let anyone near, refuses to trust his own crew, you get suspicious.

Its been about a decade by this point, and your captain seems to get more and more desperate to get home. A god is after you. Odysseus is forcing himself to stay away, all to make sure nobody touches that bag.

Its human, it's realistic, it makes sense that someone would open the bag. Because odysseus stopped trusting you, and so you stop trusting him. So you open the bag.

I just find it frustrating that people look at the crew/eurylochus as bad guys because of this, as pawns for ody to get home and thats it. The point of the show is that ody has become a monster, has dealt with and left behind his humanity. We, as listeners, root for him. We give him grace because of his circumstances. Because he's the main character.

But for some reason, people don't give that same grace to the crew. They're human, their circumstances are awful too. They have no idea if they will get home, they aren't sure then can trust their captain anymore. They question things. They make mistakes. They cause the deaths of others. It's human, its that feeling you get when you think that maybe hope is lost after all, it's what this story is about. Mistakes and loss and blame.

People dislike Eurylochus because he opened the bag. But odysseus gave the cyclops his name. And polites trusted the lotus eaters. And Athena told odysseus to be cruel to a fault. Nobody here is innocent, not really. And none of them knew better either. They were working with what they had, with the terrible circumstances at hand. It's no wonder they made mistakes. It's no wonder people died.

Why are we ignoring the humanity of the crew? Why are we arguing that they, or that eurylochus, deserved it? If the story was about them, odysseus would be seen as the bad guy. But he's the main character, so the others are stupid and wrong, right? All that matters is that odysseus gets home, right? Even if it costs the lives of his crew. His crew who stopped trusting him when he stopped trusting them. His crew who he sacrificed to get home.

I think we're missing the point here. Odysseus did become a monster, and although we cheer for him getting home and Penelope and Telemachus forgive him, we have to acknowledge that he did do terrible things. Those men will never see their families again. Why are we erasing that humanity in them?

Humans do bad things for the sake of saving themselves or the ones they love. That includes Odysseus. That includes Eurylochus. That includes the crew. And that includes every other character in this musical.

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

For vaggie that spear is her support animal/therapist

For charlie, it's a rival she'd like to throw in lava but can't cause, it's vaggies support 'animal'

silly headcanon plot twist- Charlie's jealously at the spear ISN'T silly or irrational at all, it's a subconscious manifestation of Charlie's desperation for her girlfriend to actually open up emotionally to HER instead of to a WEAPON, confide fears and problems in CHARLIE, and a very frustrated, very also-emotionally-constipated-in-her-own-way Charlie doesn't wanna pin that frustration on Vaggie directly so she deflects all her anger to the spear, which as an inanimate objects, can't get any hurt feelings over this or decide Charlie is too much and dump her

we've done it. we've cracked the silly headcanon and found the angst waiting underneath XD XD XD

or maybe the above is all just what the hazbin crew speculates together, in their weekly "there's no way those two idiots don't have shit going on in their relationship" chaggie hotel gossip meet-ups