#just belt

[finglefungle]

the rust belt? what's next, the dust belt? the gust belt? the crust belt? the disgust belt? the must belt? the fust belt? the adjust belt? the discussed belt? the fussed belt? the trust belt? the just belt? the robust belt? the combust belt? the unjust belt? THE BELT??

[apollos-boyfriend]

something they don’t tell you about being autistic is that every character you write WILL end up autistic/autistic-coded whether you like it or not

[starry-bi-sky]

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.

[forecast0ctopus]

cowboying out

[mellomadness]

psycho furry Vanny dump 🐰

[b0tster]

steam still hasnt approved my fucming build but at least its finally warm enough for me to put on the classic bunlith fit so its not all bad ig,,

[fruitsofhell]

meta knight

[hmura-hmara]

No thoughts, head full of dinluke

[pickersonpaints]

woe sad elf boy upon ya

[medicalunprofessional]

sorry guys they finally showed me peak fiction . Its called “phantom of the paradise”

[hoofpeet]

Yesssssssss I love big chunky bells & nice embroidered collars.. Swiss cows remain top 5 animals of all time purely for the nice collars

[tillydouspart]

"no one can remember what happened in the previous seasons"

(except scar was totally playing dumb)

[shroomerr]

Finally, my design for Mysterion!! this boy gave me so much heartache in the process of making this but its ok its all worth it for him <3

I also couldn't choose between the version with hair or without hair, so here's the one without under the cut (+ my initial drafts for his design):

[fantasykiri5]

Ticklish

[science-lings]

I feel like ppl focus on Bruce training the robins to kick ass from a young age when that’s definitely not all that was. He had to teach them field medicine and how to pick locks and sneak around silently and how to notice things, sure he taught them how to hit things with sticks of multiple sizes, but he also taught them how to grapple around and land from a fall.

They probably had intimidation lessons and interrogation lessons and sessions where they just meditated for hours straight. They’re taught how to calm down civilians and to train their voices to sound different in costume and so many things that would make them the most terrifying children to live with.

Bruce is actively training them to be good at bothering him because they like trying out their new espionage skills at Galas and trying to sneak around him while he’s asleep to prank him.

When we think of training to be Robin it’s easy to think of sparring and gymnastics equipment when it’s fun to remember the other parts of it. Some days Bruce would probably just give the kids a Hunt a Killer box and a time limit.

[renonv]

Here comes the Sun himself ☀️

glassless versión