#person-form

[tariah23]

Oh…. Well, it’s over for Crunchyroll I guess

[oidheadh-con-culainn]

i do think there is a degree to which certain kinds of Instagram activists have convinced themselves that traumatising themselves in solidarity is a useful form of activism. "I'm having nightmares and crying so much I want to be sick because of all these videos of dying children but I can't look away while people are getting hurt" I mean don't you think you'd be able to help more if you weren't having nightmares and crying all the time?? don't you think this is a one-way trip to burnout? don't you think maybe increasing the amount of trauma going around is counterproductive? I dunno bro there's something to be said for bearing witness but there comes a point where you gotta look hard at yourself and go "am I helping, or am I just making myself suffer so I don't feel guilty for not suffering while somebody else is experiencing bad shit"

[basketcasemp3]

downsizing seasons from 22 episodes to 13 to 8. describing miniseries as "8 hour movies". loudly declaring that shows with 20+ episodes per season cannot truly be good. complaining that "it couldve been a movie". complaining about filler episodes. complaining about bottle episodes. complaining about episodes that prioritize character over plot. fr i think y'all just dont like television

[ciderjacks]

contracts written in blood

+

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

people will really go up to shapeshifters like "oh what's your true form? oh but what do you really look like?" are u hearing yourself. do u hear how insane u sound

[acidgirl]

[blueskittlesart]

i hope everyone in nintendo’s management department dies and goes to hell no matter what and i’m not kidding

[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.

[violent138]

It would be so funny to have Bruce reckon with his kids' weird forms of schooling. For obvious reasons, a bunch never finished much/are in the process, but he turns to Tim, and goes, "At least you've got your high school--" and Tim gives him a look.

In the midst of babysitting Bruce, concocting a fake uncle, and dealing with vigilantism, and the inability to crawl of out bed after training, Tim hasn't been to school in years.

[findmeinthefallair]

It can't be overstated how powerful the catharsis is when a scene of a character connecting with their wounded inner child is done right. The key poses...the expressions...the timing...storytelling like this can help to provide some healing for so many people in the audience.

[mild-and-hammered]

The thing about Superbat is: at least Clark looks like he’s normal about Bruce. But he isn’t.

Bruce is weird about Clark all over his gothic mansion like a character in a novel. He is, at any given time, one slip away from gazing at his picture in a locket.

Batman is weird about Kal El all over the Batcave. He studies his blood, runs tests, asks questions, kisses his lips. Tries to determine if Kal El’s teeth are like regular or if he’s got extra set like a shark. Kisses his lips. Kisses his lips. Kisses his lips. He’s got a pet alien and he’s very fond of him (kisses his lips again).

Clark does a great job of seeming normal about Bruce. They go on regular dates where Clark makes cheerful conversation at the dinner table while Bruce presents him with armfuls of sunflowers.

Kal El does NOT do a good job of being normal about Batman.

He knows Bruce’s heartbeat, his safe blood pressure range, his average breath rate, that his body temperature runs two-tenths of a degree lower than what is considered normal. He sets enrichment up for his pet detective. Mystery novels fed to his beloved, brain teasers, crosswords, unsolved cases. He brings Batman to the fortress of solitude to watch him lose himself in Kryptonian mechanisms and data. Kal El draws his symbol in blue ink over Bruce’s heart so his detective can wear his symbol, if only until it washes away.

The basis of their relationship is they’re deeply abnormal people who love each other very much and also want to put one another under a microscope.

[pseudophan]

anthony is dead: the funeral roast (paid content)

[critterbitter]

Thinking about pokemon teams helping coparent… ahh.

Masterpost for more of my shenanigans!

[peterparkersnose]

WHO DID THIS 😭

[sososososososomething]

with duct tape scars on my honey

[hinamie]

realizing how much i like drawing him a million years too late :<