#that i'd give it a shot

[fihas]

i do think it's really unfortunate that most of old world blues' hate comes from the fact that all of its quests are extremely repetitive because i've always seen it as a really smart way to tie the gameplay into the lingering theme of cycles and loops that haunt the think tank and the whole dlc in general looping through the same old daily routines is all those floating brains in jars have known for decades so it is really no wonder they make you take a walk in their shoes to get things that they personally need. really gives you a good perspective on how much it must suck to live like that i'd say

[travelingthief]

Tarot Card Associations for Hellenic Deities

Fool - Dionysus, Hermes, Pan, Ate, Gelos, Momus, Horme

Magician - Hephaestus, Hermes, Hecate, Aristeaus, Circe, the Muses, Apollo

High Priestess - Hecate, Persephone, Hera, Circe

Empress - Hera, Aphrodite, Demeter, Hestia, Gaia, Rhea

Emperor - Zeus, Hades, Poseidon, Ares

Hierophant - Demeter, Persephone, Hecate, Hestia, Hera, Gaia, Rhea

Lovers - Aphrodite, Eros, Dionysus, Adonis, Hera, Philotes

Chariot - Hermes, Charon, Iris, Morpheus

Strength - Athena, Ares, Heracles, Nike, Bia, Kratos, 

Hermit - Hades, Hestia

Wheel of Fortune - Hermes, Tyche, the Fates, Zeus

Justice - Athena, Themis, Nemesis, Astraea, Apollo

Hanged Man - Hermes, Harpocrates, Prometheus, Psyche 

Death - Hades, Thanatos, Dionysus, Charon, Persephone, Ares

Temperance - Athena, Demeter, Artemis, Harmonia

Devil - Dionysus, Pan, Comus, Ate, Priapus

Tower - Ares, Poseidon, Deimos, Phobos, Eris, Moros, Enyo, Hybris

Star - Aphrodite, Artemis, Astraea, Urania, Hermes, Eos, Hesperus

Moon - Selene, Artemis, Hecate, Nyx, Hypnos, Erebus

Sun - Apollo, Helios, Hemera, Hyperion 

Judgment - Zeus, hades, Athena

World - Hermes, Demeter, Gaia, Hestia, Harmonia, Pan, Tyche

[eddiethebrave]

you're alright

Steddie’s Back to School Bash (@thehairandthebanished) Summer Fling | you're alright | Rated M | CW: recreational drug use, injury, blood, implied drugging | Additional Tags: hurt/comfort 777 words

After waiting an hour and a half in the trailer, Eddie moves outside. When another half hour passes by with no sight of Steve, Eddie takes his pity party to the roof.

He's not disappointed. He’s not. Why would he be? Harrington blew him off, probably to take some girl to the Fun Fair. So what? It’s fine. 

It’s fine. Great, actually. Now he has ample time to himself.

He should have known better than to trust Steve when he said they’d have their first real date tonight. They were gonna go to the fair and play all the cheesy games and sit in the ferris wheel and maybe even kiss at the top like a movie.

Stupid.

Eddie pays no mind to the tears blurring his vision as he lights up and inhales deeply. When he lets the smoke go, his breath comes out shakily, but he pays no mind to that, either. 

It’s well over an hour later, after the fireworks and probably after the fair is closed, that Eddie is laying on his back and looking up at the stars. 

He’d planned to bring Steve up here after the fair for a little night cap, but now he’s wrapped up by himself in the blanket he’d hauled up here back when he thought he had a date tonight. 

Eddie listens to the sounds of the trailer park as he drifts. Someone has their TV up way too loud for this time of night, but Eddie isn’t exactly one to judge with how loud he blasts music when Wayne is on his night shift. There���s a dog barking coming from the direction of one of the trailers with a fence. The soft rumble of an engine and then footsteps on gravel. A knock. 

A voice. 

“Eddie, I’m here.” Another knock. “Baby, please.” A voice crack. 

Eddie hauls himself up and maneuvers his way back to the ground. He lands with a thud and rounds the trailer to see Steve standing on his front steps with his forehead pressed to the door. He’s still in his work uniform, which pulls a small smile onto Eddie’s lips despite the circumstances. 

He must have given up on trying to get Eddie’s attention because he’s no longer knocking or calling out for him. As Eddie gets closer he hears a low murmur, though. “Please, Eddie. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Please.”

Eddie’s heart breaks hearing the quiet pleas. 

He stands at the bottom of his stairs so he doesn’t spook him. “Steve?”

He whips around and Eddie’s heart drops. He doesn’t even have time to take in all of the injuries before Steve is throwing himself down the stairs. Eddie catches him, all the air punched out of him as their bodies collide. 

Steve isn’t crying, but he’s clinging to Eddie like he’s on the verge. 

“Sorry, sorry. I missed it. I’m sorry, Eddie.”

Eddie knows he won’t get answers from Steve while he’s in this state. He rubs his hands over Steve’s back soothingly. “Sweetheart, it’s okay. It’s okay. I promise. You’re alright.”

Steve still has his head buried in Eddie’s neck and as much as he doesn’t want to deny the comfort right now, they have to go inside. 

He worms his hand into Steve’s hair and if everything else didn’t clue him into the fact that something is very very wrong, the fact that Steve lets him touch his hair at all is a sure sign. He tries not to let the worry and panic seep into his voice as he eases Steve’s head back just enough to see him properly. He tries his best not to react to the blood and the swelling and the black eye and and and. 

“Let’s get you inside? Hmm? How does that sound?”

Steve blinks his eyes open and Eddie takes note of the blown pupils. Steve nods his assent and they head in. 

After he gets Steve cleaned up and into new clothes, they cuddle up on the couch with a movie playing in the background. (Steve has a drawer with various clothing items he’s left behind over the weeks, but he’d quietly asked if he could wear something of Eddie’s. And what was he supposed to do? Say no? Yeah right.)

Eddie strokes Steve’s hair to help lull him to sleep and eventually the boy dozes off. 

Eddie doesn’t know what the fuck happened but what he does know is that he’s not letting Steve out of his sight for the foreseeable future and he will do everything in his power to protect him and keep him happy.

Maybe they’ll even get to reschedule that date.

[marragurl]

Ok so like…. Who makes Ratio’s statues? 

Because every possible explanation just opens up a whole new can of worms. 

I’ve been trying to go through as much info about him as I can, including his character stories, but I can’t find anything??? 

So I’m just left stewing in the dark, which usually leads to my humor coming into play. 

So like… are the statues of Ratio’s own making??

Because that would insinuate that he takes the time out of his busy life to constantly make new statues of just himself, including the multiple plaster heads. And if it’s not him physically and it is a manifestation of his Imaginary powers, he’s still making them right??? 

So he still chooses the poses! 

Why??? 

What is his thought process??? 

Physically made or Imaginary Powers made, it’s still his choice on what the statue should look like right???

And if it’s not a conscious decision, then WHAT DO THE JOJO AND CUTESY POSES MEAN

IS JOJO’S BIZARRE ADVENTURES FUCKING CANON IN HSR??

IS IT A SHOW THAT EXISTS??

ARE YOU TELLING ME ARAKI FUCKING EXISTS IN HSR??

AND RATIO IS A FAN?????? 

DON’T TELL ME IT’S JUST A FUN REFERENCE BY THE HSR TEAM, YEA IT’S META TO US BUT IT’S CANON TO THE REST OF THE UNIVERSE THAT RATIO HAS A STATUE OF HIMSELF DOING A JOJO POSE

On the other hand, if it’s not Ratio himself making them… who is it????

Is Ratio commissioning some artists?? Multiple artists? Only one?!?!? 

Is it some weird form of extra credit for his students???

(Student A: Hey wanna hang out tonight? 

Student B: Can’t. Gotta finish up this statue of Dr. Ratio examining his codex by Friday if I wanna get a passing grade in the class

Student A: You can sculpt???

Student B crying with 100 tabs of ‘how to sculpt’ videos and wikiHows pulled up and no sleep: I’m trying my best here Sharon)

Is he like those Renaissance time rich people who basically paid for their favorite artist’s livelihood in order to just make nice art in return??? Is there now a really well-off sculptor somewhere in the universe who is just constantly being paid by THE Dr. Ratio to make stone statues of the man??? Does the artist just put that down in their tax returns?? 

(back at it again with Topaz suffering from Ratiorine’s antics, she’s the one in charge of Ratio’s Sculptor’s taxes)

THAT STILL DOESN’T ANSWER THE STATUE POSE QUESTIONS

DID THE ARTIST ADD IN THE JOJO POSE AND HEART POSE AS A GAG??? AND SURVIVE RATIO SEEING THEM?? 

WORSE- DID RATIO COMMISSION THE POSES??? WHAT WAS THAT CONVERSATION EVEN LIKE??? DID HE HAVE TO POSE?? DOES THE ARTIST JUST HAVE AN ENTIRE SCRAPBOOK OF RATIO DOING DIFFERENT POSES FOR CONSTANT REFERENCE?

FUCK IT, DID AVENTURINE GET IN CONTACT WITH THE ARTIST AND PAY EVEN MORE MONEY FOR THE CUTESY POSES??

(Whole new thought process, the artist is making statues of Ratio for both Ratio AND Aventurine, and all the cute statues are actually commissions by Aventurine for his little Dr. Ratio idol crush shrine. There’s a constant slapstick comedy routine of Aventurine trying to hide them anytime Ratio comes over to his place and barely getting away with it. Does he ever come clean when they start dating? Do they start dating because Ratio finds the statues? Fuck it, if Ratio is the one making the statues and not an artist, does he teach Aventurine how to sculpt?? Does it become like something they do together to spend time?? Ok damn wait that’s kinda cute wait-)

WAIT ADDING ON TO THAT- DOES THAT MEAN FOLLOWING THIS THOUGHT PROCESS THAT AVENTURINE IS THE JOJO FAN???? HE’S A FUCKING JOTARO STAN???

(wait- brisk MC who’s rude to everyone but soft on those he cares about and has the muscles of a Greek god and eventually goes into academia, oh my fucking god Aventurine has a type)

PLEASE

I NEED TO KNOW WHERE ARE THESE STATUES COMING FROM

EVERYONE SEEMS TO KNOW ABOUT THEM, THEY AREN’T A SECRET

IS HIS HOUSE JUST FULL OF STATUES???

DOES HE HAVE A WHOLE-ASS GRECO-ROMAN-STYLE GARDEN FULL OF HIS OWN STATUES???

DOES THE ARTIST SEE A STATUE DISAPPEAR FROM THE GARDEN AND IMMEDIATELY KNOW RATIO USED HIS TECHNIQUE TO SLAM ONE DOWN BREAKING IT AND JUST GO “fucking hell man, I was just about to go on break! Now I need to start a new one!”

IS IT A HOBBY?? HOW THE FUCK DID HE GET INTO SCULPTING AS A HOBBY WITH HIS SCHEDULE???

ARE THEY GIFTS?? 

FROM WHO, STUDENTS??? ADMIRERS? FUCK IT, AVENTURINE???

DOES THE ARTIST BEING COMMISSIONED EVEN HAVE A LIFE OUTSIDE OF THE RATIO STATUES??? DO THEY EVEN HAVE THE ABILITY TO SCULPT ANYTHING OTHER THAN RATIO AT THIS POINT??? HAVE THEY SEEN ANY OTHER BEING OUTSIDE OF THEIR STUDIO AND THE HUNDREDS OF RATIO STATUES???

PLEASE I NEED SOMEONE TO ANSWER ME

[hyacinthsdiamonds]

Imagine having the fastest car on the grid, but Max Verstappen lives so rent free in your head that you try to copy him instead of doing literally anything original... Mclaren, you'll never be him, no matter how many times you claim the orange army as your own!

[oldwitchsleep]

i too would risk it all just for him to look at me for even a microsecond

[papa-evershed]

Rob James-Collier as Michael Generation-Z

KING OF THE TRACK JACKETS 👑

[fictionadventurer]

Disney's Pinocchio, abridged:

Jiminy Cricket: Don't do the bad thing.

Pinocchio: But I want to do the bad thing.

Jiminy Cricket, walking away: Well, I've done all I can do.

[sepia-stained-sunset]

You know what, we deserve a Brentwood Academy Reunion mini comic where Tim brings Bernard along and all the other guys keep sending him pitying looks because they think the poor guy should be warned that Tim will never catch onto his feelings for him.

And Bernard is like, "um, why is everyone giving me so much sympathy?" And Tim's like, "what are you talking about?" And then people literally pat him on his shoulder and tell him that they "get it" and they've "been through this too"

Bernard: What are you talking about??

Some guy from Brentwood: It's okay, man. It's practically a rite of passage at this point. You're here with Tim Drake as just a friend, right?

Tim, who heard that: Um, no? Bernard's my date

Literally everyone there: What.

Tim: Uh...yeah? He's my boyfriend

Everyone: *squeeze their wine glasses so hard they literally shatter*

[murk888]

BIG SHOT! BIG SHOT! BIG SHOT!

(i can't find any other words right now. no thoughts only big shot. he occupies my mind. lives there rent free. leaves no free space at all. the big shot is very big indeed)

[simptasia]

LOST: Season One

[earlycuntsets]

gerard talks about his first spin shoot:

"they were calling me speed stick because I smelled so bad. and um basically he's like "I want you to go to my cd collection. I want you to pick out whatever you want and I'm gonna give you a microphone and you're gonna basically karaoke it. since I was like "yeah- you can't fake singing and so we put on black flag and I was singing "nervous breakdown" and this guy comes over with a beer and just starts spraying me with water. and this is like shit i'd never.. let people do. and I was super into it. just got me soaking fucking wet. headbanging and singing. and it's one of my favorite photos. and it ran in a page I think the guy from stellarstar was in it. and that was the first spin thing"

2007 interview

07/2003 spin

[megaerakles]

To Whom It May Concern

Tim couldn’t stay. 

No matter what Bruce had said when he caught Tim in the act of laying the paper trail to establish his Fake Uncle, no matter how long Dick had sobbed into the phone at him during an inordinately expensive long distance (read: off planet) phone call, no matter how much Alfred had been fussing over him and insisting it was no trouble at all to care for him since Tim’s scheme had been revealed and promptly foiled, it just didn’t change the fact that Tim couldn’t stay. Truthfully, the Wayne family’s apparent sudden burst of affection for him actually made this whole thing worse because somewhere along the way, without even trying, Tim had failed to keep things wholly professional between them and somehow tricked them into thinking he belonged in their family! 

He couldn’t let it stand. For the sake of Jason’s memory, for the sake of preserving the sanctity of the true Wayne family, he had to stop this… this absurdity of pretending that Tim belonged with them from continuing! Tim had to run. Tim had to vanish. It was the only way to make things right again. Sure, the thought of never seeing any of them again, the thought of being done with Bruce and Alfred and Dick and Barbara and everyone in his life he currently held dear once and for all made it feel as though his heart was being ripped out of his chest only to be shoved back down his throat to stop the flow of air into his body—but it didn’t matter. He didn’t matter, not nearly as much as they did. This would be for their own good. 

Tim was leaving, and it turned out to be easier than he thought it would be in the end. Not emotionally easier, but logistically easier. Bruce had been extra attentive lately, so he thought he’d have to fake an injury and get ‘benched’ so that they would lower their guard long enough for him to slip away. But by some divine stroke of luck, a new player had waltzed onto Gotham’s criminal scene not too long after Tim’s Fake Uncle plan fell through and started making threats against Batman and Robin. They had apparently freaked B out enough to prompt him to send Tim off to Titan’s Tower to ‘focus on his team for awhile’. Tim had accepted the command with the requisite amount of complaint, planted some fake texts to make it look like he’d actually communicated to his Team that he would be there, shoved everything from his guest room in the Manor that he couldn’t bear to part with into a duffel bag underneath a spare uniform, gave Bruce what only he knew was a more emotionally charged nod goodbye than usual, and then poof. Tim Drake was zapped out of the Batcave for the last time ever. 

He let himself have one night in the Tower. Partly to catch a few hours of sleep in a familiar and secure environment, but mostly so he could clean up his room for its next occupant, sweep his belongings and his person for any extra trackers, and repack his bag more efficiently. He also took the time to grab a spare backpack and fill it up with emergency rations. While he was taking plenty of cash, he didn’t want to risk having to go into stores with security cameras for a while, at least until he’d cleared a suitable distance from San Francisco proper as well as implemented the first of his many planned disguises. He didn’t think a bottle of cheap hair dye and some colored contacts would be enough to fool Oracle indefinitely, but if he was appropriately cautious it might keep her from getting a confirmation of his location long enough for the Bats to either get bored looking for him or to actually realize they were better off without him around. 

When the early rays of dawn started to bathe the sides of Titan’s Tower in ember colored light, he was off. He left behind seven trackers pulled from his clothes and bag and one more from behind his ear; he’d kept the one he noticed in his favorite pair of sneakers because it was a type that wouldn’t start transmitting data until the Bats actively started tracking it and he was hoping to find someone who wore his size at the bus station he could pay to wear them so he could throw them off for even longer. If all else failed, he would just toss them in an out of the way trash can. He had also left a letter of resignation for Batman that he’d whipped up based off of an online template, signed and sealed and awaiting discovery atop the pillow in his nearly empty dorm room (he had tried for something more personal, a longer note of explanation for Bruce about why he couldn’t stay despite being asked, but—the words just wouldn’t come, and he’d been running out of time). His bag was heavy, courtesy of all of the extra supplies he’d grabbed in anticipation of having to evade not only Batman’s team but the rest of the Justice League. His heart was heavy, courtesy of emotional baggage that he wished was as easy to unpack as his actual bags would be when he finally found somewhere to settle. 

He boarded the first bus he saw after he’d gone a few blocks and took a seat towards the back, where he leaned against the window and stared back at the iconic giant T that he used to belong in, however briefly, until it disappeared from sight. And just like that, Tim Drake’s life as Robin was over. 

—

To Whom It May Concern:

This letter is to formally notify you that I’m resigning as Robin in Gotham City, effective immediately. 

Thank you so much for the opportunity to work with you all for the past three years. I’ve enjoyed getting to know the team and appreciated the opportunity to learn about vigilantism and hone my detective skills. I’m excited to take these skills with me as I pursue the next step of my career.

During the past two weeks, I have done everything possible to wrap up any ongoing cases and leave no unfinished business. The Robin suit as well as my spare have been cleaned and placed in the armory of Titan’s Tower along with any gear I have been issued. 

I wish Batman and team the best, but am afraid I will be out of contact for the foreseeable future. 

Sincerely, 

T. J. Drake

—

Red Hood stalked into Titan’s Tower with all the grace of a wildcat closing in on its prey, his vicious smirk hidden by his helmet, his unauthorized entrance hidden by virtue of the heroes’ own stupidity in failing to remove his codes from the database. Seriously—he’d thought gaining entry into their so-called fortress would be the hardest part of this little trip, and had only tried his access codes for the sake of checking the most stupidly obvious Plan A off his list! For them to work, to realize that there was nothing truly separating the precious sidekicks from the wrath of a vengeance minded crime lord, well… it sure made the message he was about to send feel all the more poignant. 

He had come equipped to subdue an entire horde of Teeny Titans without hurting them (much), but to his surprise, the tower was empty of kid sidekicks despite Robin having been sent to work with his team yesterday afternoon, a fact Jason had gleaned last night from listening to the mind numbing chatter of Nightwing being bored on a stakeout and wanting to chat with anyone over the comms Jason had hacked into. Which he’d done in order to better plan his aggressive takeover of Crime Alley, not because he missed hearing his family’s voices. Nope. 

(Since coming back to Gotham, it had been more difficult than he anticipated to stick to the plan when some part of his mind still stubbornly clung to those foolish, childhood dreams of belonging and family and a father who gave a shit and things like that, and kept popping up with annoying questions like ‘what if he revealed his identity to Dick or Alfred or someone just to see if maybe Talia had been right and they’d want him back after all. Clearly, the existence of a new Robin meant that they’d never really given a damn about him, so he was going to go through with this thing, just watch him.)

Truly this had to be fate, because the path to Robin was practically unfolding before him with no barriers. All that was left to do was find where in this gigantic clubhouse the itty little birdie was nesting. Jason tried the common room first. Then the kitchen. Then the rec room. And then the training floor. And the med bay. And then the armory, where he found Robin’s suit, but no actual Robin. He supposed the next place to check would be Robin’s bedroom, because even though it was well past eleven, Drake was a teenager and could conceivably be sleeping in, especially since there was no Alfred around to rouse him at a reasonable hour. Luckily, the doors on the floor with sleeping quarters were all clearly marked with either the name or symbol of the person it belonged to, so it was easy enough to find the one with that all too familiar stylized ‘R’. Jason paused to take a steadying breath before gritting his teeth and deciding to really make an entrance by kicking down the door. 

…To an empty bedroom. Like, not just devoid of Tim Drake, but also devoid of books, trinkets, photos, decoration, clothes, dishes, mess, et cetera, et cetera. It looked as clean and sterile as a hotel room, and if Jason hadn’t literally just seen Robin’s insignia on the door he would think he’d entered an unassigned room by mistake. He frowned and yanked off his helmet, as if looking with his own two eyes would suddenly change the scene, but no. Nothing. He strode into the room and yanked open the closet—empty. He walked over to the desk and yanked open the top drawer—empty. He yanked open the bottom drawer, and mostly empty except for—wait, was that a pile of deactivated Bat trackers? Fucking bizarre. When he stood up, he glanced around again, and this time something on the bed caught his eye. It had been easy to miss against the white pillowcase, but there was an envelope tucked up against the pillow. With a scowl, he stalked over and grabbed it. 

When Jason flipped it over, he noted that it was addressed to Batman, but decided that since he was a crime lord now he didn’t have to care about something as trivial as opening someone else’s mail. He didn't want to take off his gloves and risk leaving prints on anything, so he pulled out a dagger and used it to slice open the envelope. As he flipped it over to dump its contents on the desk, he had the fleeting thought that he probably should have put back on his mask in case this had been some villain’s ploy to poison Batman, but luckily all that fell out was a single sheet of printer paper folded into thirds. 

This he was careful not to damage as he unfolded it. It wasn’t a long note, just a few small paragraphs, so it was quick enough to read: To whom it may concern. This letter is to formally notify you that I’m resigning as Robin in Gotham City, effective immediately… 

Jason dropped the letter and took a step back, staring at the innocuous piece of paper with wide eyes and racing thoughts. Robin had—Drake wasn’t—Timothy—the kid, he was quitting? Leaving? Gone? 

It could be a trap. It probably was a trap. Except Robin shouldn’t have had any way of knowing Red Hood would be able to track him all the way to Titan’s Tower so why would he have set a trap for him in the first place? A trap for someone else, then? If it was, it was really, really stupid of him because the kid had signed his resignation letter from Robin with his actual name, and surely he wouldn’t have made it this far if he were that careless with his identity. So, it was either a very bad trap, or not a trap at all. And if it was not a trap at all, then… 

Then Robin had… resigned. Which, ok, Jason’s stated goal coming into this thing was to get Tim Drake to stop being Robin. So he should be happy about this, right? Except he’d not gotten to toss the kid around and work out his aggression at all so there was no satisfaction in it. Also, the timing was fucking obnoxious. Go figure that the very day he decides to do something about his replacement, the kid decides to peace out of the Gotham vigilante scene and… and go… 

… Somewhere. Jason had no idea where Tim Drake would go if he were no longer Robin. Given how he’d waited until he was alone and then left the note to be found on the other side of the country, Jason had a sneaking suspicion that returning to Gotham was currently off the table. The letter had said he would be ‘out of contact’ for the foreseeable future; Jason could read between the lines enough to figure out that meant he was running away. 

—Which, fuck. Another Robin was running away from Batman because of… well, Jason didn’t know what this kid’s issue with B was, but there were plenty of potential flaws in the man to choose from so Jason was going to play it safe and assume it was something Bruce did. Clearly, the man could never learn. And now, this poor dumb Robin was going to pay the price! Jason was more than familiar with the number of horrors that awaited kids who ended up on their own. He could starve; he could freeze to death; he could catch some disease like the flu, or get cut on a rusty nail and get tetanus, and then die from it because he couldn’t access medical treatment. He could get mugged, or harassed by cops, or snatched up by traffickers, or—

And fine; Jason himself had meant to hurt him. But that had been for ideological purposes, to prove a point about putting children in danger and not taking good enough care of them and stuff. It wasn’t like he was going to hurt him that badly, just bad enough to freak out Bruce a bit. But Jason was also the Red Hood, and the Red Hood’s mission was to do what was necessary to stop awful shit from happening to vulnerable kids. And this stupid, stupid letter was apparently enough to abruptly transfer Timothy Drake into that category in his head. 

Everything Jason had heard about the kid said he was smart, and the timing of his disappearance pointed to some thoughtful planning on his part. Jason could imagine that the little shit had some sort of plan in place to evade Batman’s attempts to locate him, and he probably could manage to run without getting caught by Bruce and the Gotham team for a while. Heck, the kid probably had strategies to get away from most if not all of the Justice League members, since B was sure to call in favors once he got frantic enough about the little bird. But one thing the kid likely did not plan for was being pursued by him. Ex-Robin, currently a crime lord, League of Assassins connections, and a bone to pick with Timothy specifically? (He ran away from home and left a fucking resignation letter about it? Does he not realize what that would do to Dick, to Alfred, to Bruce—)

After stuffing the letter into his pocket, Jason put back on his helmet and stalked out of Titans Tower as silently as he’d arrived, this time with a new yet equally furious purpose sharpening his steps. Sucked to be Timothy Drake, he thought, because the Red Hood got his message and he was officially concerned. 

[grymmdark]

the environment design in stampede is honestly one of the best and most impressive elements and also the most underappreciated.

[indigo-inks]

if you draw volug I'll personally deliver you a like and a reblog. unfortunately i cannot offer much more than that... For the moment, that is.....

(i also think you'd draw a banging Freyja FEH canon did her dirty but her design is neat and your mirabilis was really cute!!)

oouhfhh pupy dogie......

i've never drawn him before so! woo!

[boingocabinet]

stylization test/much needed update for my scientist ocs totally not planning something nefarious (a visual novel)