I am loudly pushing the batdad agenda i am loudly pushing the— DPxDC Prompt
“Woah. You look like shit."
Granted, that’s probably not the first thing Danny should be saying to the guy that just bit the curb, but in his defense; he’s not running on 100% right now either.
The man -- tall, towering, and broader than Danny is tall -- whips around on his heel, black frayed cape flaring out impressively. Danny would've whistled in appreciation, but he takes the time instead to wipe the back of his hand across his mouth, smearing the blood running from his nose across his cheek.
"Sorry." He blinks widely, not even flinching as the man with the horns zeroes in on him. "That was rude of me. I have a really bad brain-to-mouth filter; Sam says its what always gets me into trouble."
And she's not wrong either, per say. His smart mouth is what landed him in this situation -- with blood blossom extract running through his veins and cannibalizing the ectoplasm in his bloodstream. Thanks Vlad.
The man grunts at him; a short, curt "hm" that shouldn't make Danny smile, but he does because he's somewhat delirious and probably concussed. The man keeps some kind of distance, sinking towards the shadows of Gotham's alleyway like he dares to melt right into it.
If it's supposed to scare Danny, it doesn't work. Danny's never been afraid of the dark; he's always been able to hide himself in it. He blinks slowly at the mass of shadows.
"You look hurt." The shadows says, blurring together around the edges. Danny squints, and licks his lips to get the blood dripping down his chin off. Ugh, he hates the taste of blood.
"I am." He says, "My godfather poisoned me. M'dying." The agony of the blood blossom eating him from the inside out looped back around to numbing a while ago, so all he feels is half-awake and dazed.
"Hey," Danny stumbles forward towards the man, a bloodied hand reaching out to him. "You-- you're a hero, right? You're not attacking me; which is more than I can say for most costumed people I've met." Maybe it's a poor bar to judge someone at, but he's already established that Danny's not in his right mind.
The man makes no change in expression, but Danny realizes blearily that it's hard to tell with the shadows on his face. He stays still long enough for Danny to latch onto the cape -- stretchy, but almost soft under his fingers.
He looks up blearily into the whites of the man's eyes. "Can you help me? I don't-- I don't wanna die." Again. He doesn't wanna die again. He blinks slow and lizard-like. "I mean- I'll probably get to see mom and dad again, but I told them I'd at least try and make it to adulthood."
There's a clatter down the street, and Danny's ghost sense chills up his spine and leaves a bitter, ashy taste in his mouth. He immediately knows who it belongs to even before the deceptively gentle; "Daniel?" echoes down the way.
"Daniel? Quit your games, badger, Gotham is dangerous for children."
Danny's mouth pulls back, and blood spills against his tongue. "Please." He rasps, and grabs onto the shadow's cape with both hands. "Please. He's going to kill me. Please--"
"Daniel? Is that you?"
His lips part, dragging in air to plead with the darkness again. He doesn't need to, the whites of his eyes narrow, and the cape whirls around him before Danny can blink. Soon swaddled in shadows, the Night lifts him up, and steals him away.
So, I know I'm a little (very) late to the AvA stuff, but I was rewatching AvM Season 3 for the seven hundredth time and, well, I noticed something and I'm curious to know if it's been discussed before.
Her color changes as she dies, or is represented to have died.
It fades to grey.
Now, the question is, can we, or rather should we, use this to infer anything lore-related? Was this just an artistic choice to depict the act of becoming unhealthy/dying, or could this be what actually happens to stick figures that die over a period of time? Are their colors linked to their health?
Let's have a bit of fun with it, and presume that the fading of one's color can happen to a stick figure for health-related reasons, as the scene could imply.
This fading seems to involve loosing the saturation of one's color into grey. Saturation is how vibrant a color is, and the complete lack of saturation is greyscale.
The World-of-Alan reason for Pink's death is that she 'got sick', which is where the health connection of this theory comes from. If she did loose her color as she was dying as the notes depict, that loss of color was likely a result of her failing health rather than any other factors, like age or outside variables. A whole bunch of human body stuff are indicators for good vs poor health, including skin color (jaundice and cyanasis are good examples) so why not a stick's color for them?
What if, when they fully die, they lose all of their original color?
Now, let me propose this…
Who else do we know of who has had their color loose vibrancy?
What if Victim's color has lightened because he's ill?
HOLY SHIT WE CAN SEE SOUNDWAVE AND SHOCKWAVE TRANSFORM IN THIS CLIP
THEYRE BOTH FLIERS LETS GOO
also theyre right beside orion and elita and not fighting. not chasing either as the waves just flew right past them. are they working together for something? are they running away from something? (ALSO WHERE IS D-16 AND BEE??? DID THEY GET SPLIT UP??) i seriously cant wait to find out omfg.
headcanon: donnie is very finicky about his appearance actually
he pays attention to his clothes. how they fall on him. how the patterns match. if they catch his eye pleasingly or if they clash and he needs to change them. he cares a lot about fashion, but not in a Pays Attention To What's Popular way; he cares in a I Have My Style And I Will Adhere To It Under The Penalty Of Death way. i think about the way he makes a logo for his tech when he's a kid. it's trademarked he says of his brand. he cares about how things look. how his name is attached to things. appearances matter.
(it's common in the animal kingdom too, he consoles himself, looking into the mirror and tugging at his new shirt before going to see you. birds. fish. it's just biology. so he's interested. it's fine. natural. not extra at all. he just wants to look good. put on a good show. convince your eyes to land on him.)
this translates over when he starts courting you hard. plucking at your outfits and complimenting your choices. giving you suggestions when he comes into your room and his eyes finally slide off where you're lounging and into your closet. he asks if he can take a look inside. opens it up, thumbs through, muttering to himself. he'll pull together things you never thought to put together, and huh. that looks. really really good actually. thanks, donnie. giving him a sparkling smile that makes him look away because it's too bright to look into directly.
it starts then. before you're dating, when you're just... something. a question mark. a potential. you see him while you're walking down the street. he's looking into the glass storefronts, but the items inside don't seem to make any cogent sense or slide into one particular category. shoes. technology. dresses. flower arrangements. the items all over the place, not anything you can use to try and guess what he may want to his birthday coming up, which is annoying since you kinda want to spoil him a little.
(it's not until years later, seeing it again, curled beneath a possessive arm at a crosswalk, that you ask what that's all about. only then that he tells you he is admiring how the two of you look next to each other: fashionable, complimentary, coordinated;
Open letter to everyone silent on the pogram in LA yesterday (being Sunday, June 23rd), despite reblogging misinformation after misinformation about Israel’s unique evil:
I see you. I see how quiet you are. I see how afraid you are, how scary it is to comment on it, because of the backlash you might face for “not supporting the movement.” I see the indecision as you hover over the reblog button.
And I am calling you a coward for it.
How dare you refuse to acknowledge what is happening within your own movement. How dare you claim to be on the side of peace, and allow yourself to ignore what your own protesters are doing.