#thx for the ask:)

[krysmcscience]

I have some questions about karaoke night, Alex Hirsch. Very Important Questions. Which I will happily scream at a poor hapless baby triangle who can have no answers for me, and possibly also does not have object permanence yet.

Follow-up that is I guess suggestive, but let's be real here, Bill's a fucking triangle:

Dude slipped right into his birthday suit, lmao

this is so stupid :D

Anyway, I don't care what anyone says, this brilliant individual knows what's up - Bill is absolutely way more of a monsterfucker than Ford could or ever will be, full stop.

[stealingpotatoes]

What would Anakin life be like if Master Yoda sent Cal or Caleb instead of Ahsoka to be his padawan?

(commission info // tip jar!)

[catgrandpa]

Gotham has always been weird, so when the groundskeeper at the cemetery noticed the Wayne kid’s plot was disturbed, he just chalked it up to more of the same ol’. Alright, so ‘disturbed’ may be a tad too light of a word, but what’s an empty grave in the grand scheme of Gotham? God knows in a city like this one, they could use all the burial room they could get. He figured he’d just jot it down on the website and hope nobody noticed for a while.

Too bad he didn’t account for the 13 year old boy in Bristol who periodically checks the cemetery’s website when he’s feeling particularly lonely.

Plot Removed.

Tim Drake stared at the two words under the heading for Jason Todd’s plot number. Removed? What do they mean ‘removed’? They can’t just remove a plot? That’s a person down there! That’s Robin down there! You can’t Remove Robin!

Calm down. Deep breaths. Assess the situation.

Robin has been dead for 5 months and 14 days. There is no reason for a grave to be removed that early, especially one of a member of such an affluential family. Chances are likely it’s a simple clerical issue. He can call first thing in the morning and make them aware of the mistake. He can have it all fixed in 5 hours.

Just a phone call.

In 5 hours.

…

Tim hates talking on the phone almost as much as he hates waiting.

Well it won’t be the first time he’s snuck out to head to Gotham proper at 1am. It can’t even really be considered sneaking out if there’s no one home to catch you.

Buses stop running at 2, so he layers a couple sweaters under his coat and grabs his best running sneakers so he can comfortably make the trek back.

Just a quick trip to settle his nerves. Maybe get a few shots in if he spots Batman, but really he just wants to see with his own two eyes that things are okay and Jason can rest.

It’s 1:37 by the time he gets to the headstone reading ‘Here Lies Jason Todd’ and the gaping, muddy pit in front of it.

This- This doesn’t make any sense. This is not removal. This is destruction. Desecration. Somebody did this. Somebody-

Assess the situation.

A hole in the ground, approximately 1.5 feet in diameter.

Mud and grass flung outward but with little force.

Large chunks of earth turned over and shoved away.

No signs of tool marks or clean lines of entry into the dirt.

Dragging claw marks.

Staggering, shuffled pairs of foot prints in the mud.

A trail of dirt.

Something… Something large clawed its way out of the ground here. Something large and bipedal and- and humanoid.

Tim refuses to jump to any conclusions he can see all the facts laid in front of him. He’s going to cautiously follow the trail and simply hope to any god listening that he isn’t the world’s first line of defense against the zombie apocalypse.

He’s been walking for 23 minutes and there’s good news and undecided news. Good news: he’s closing in on the target and the trail isn’t taking him out of the way so his trip home won’t be prolonged. Undecided news: The potential Zombie Robin is heading directly for Wayne Manor.

As zombie apocalypse news, this is very bad. From Tim’s collected observational evidence, his not-so-professional opinion is that Batman, faced with a horror movie level zombie of his dead son, would not respond well, and would likely not fight back.

In Batman and Robin news? Tim’s unsure. If Jason is simply back? What could that mean for them? Batman can have his Robin. He wouldn’t have to continue nearly killing others and himself every night in his grief. Jason could-

No. Stop. Do not jump to conclusions.

Hope only brings heartbreak.

What would Batman do? Get close and see if the target is a threat.

Target is male. Mid-teens. Dark hair. Pale skin. Leaning against surfaces as he walks. Appears injured and disoriented.

Minimal risk assessed. Approaching and attempting contact.

Target identity confirmed: Jason Todd.

“J-Jason?” It comes out as a croaked whisper. Jason shows no sign of acknowledgment.

Tim clears his throat, steps right in front of his path, and tries again.

“Jason. Jason, stop I want to help you.” Still nothing.

“Please, Jason. I can help, I promise I can help!”

Why isn’t this working?! Why can’t he just do something right for once?! He wants this to work, he wants to help Bruce, he wants to fix Batman, he wants to not be alone, he wants-

“Robin!”

Robin jerks to a stop.

Tim reached out his hand.

“Robin. Robin please, I’m sorry you’re going through this, it’s really scary, I’m really scared. But I just want to help you. Help you find Batman. Help you get home.”

Jason just stares at him. Of course he does. Of course it’s not going to work. Why did he even bother hoping he could help?

Hope only brings heartbreak.

His sight blurs as his eyes fill with tears and he starts to lower his outstretched hand.

His arm is slowed as a cold hand weakly grasps his own.

“Don’t… scared… Bat… help… Dad… help.”

A relieved sob tears out from Tim’s chest and he gathers himself together. He yanks his extra sweater off and gently pulls it over Jason’s cold shoulders. Jason lets Tim drag his arm over his shoulders to try and carry some of his weight.

“Okay, Robin. Yeah. Your dad will help us.”

Batman will solve everything once Tim gets Robin home.

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 271

“Grandmother is visiting,” Damian suddenly said with no warning and with his usual not-quite demanding tone. 

“Who?” Tim wasn’t the only one to startle, seeing as Bruce had practically froze, a downturn to his lips in a silent show of confusion. 

Damian scowled. “Are you deaf Drake? Grandmother is coming to Gotham to, quote, make sure I am being properly cared for.” None of them had known that Ras was with anyone actually. At least Tim was pretty sure that would have been in the files. 

“Oh?” Dick didn’t quite crouch to Damian’s height but it was a near thing. “She-” “He,” Damian corrected, interrupting him. They all exchanged a glance before Dick continued. 

“Is he coming to the Manor or…” 

Damian scoffed again, a tiny bit of a flush against his face. “No, Grandmother will most likely be staying with Akhi-”

Now wait one moment-

“YOU HAVE ANOTHER BROTHER?!” 

[frownyalfred]

about your long term superbat post… don’t many couples divorce after they lose a kid… anyways what do you think happens when jason dies if clark and bruce are married

blocked and reported how DARE you

[eddiesghxst]

can we get eddie that is literally so clumsy and shy around the reader that he LITERALLY finds a way to knock something down or break something or stutter and steve and robin are just like…. my man….. seriously? and then when reader n him finally smash he’s suddenly very in tune w his fine motor skills😭

i take that and u raise you this (because i’ve been thinking about girly!airhead!reader for a while now)

girly!airhead!reader who eddie’s had a crush on for the longest time, he’s a loser, that much is sure, and you’re so fucking…perfect. you’re pretty, you’re funny, you have good taste in music (not at all what people think it is)— basically everyone wants you, and if they don’t want you they want to be you. eddie is the former.

but you never ran in the same group until you became friends with steve and robin. and then you all finally hang out and as soon as you saw eddie and saw how absolutely hopeless he was with his shitty jokes and anxious rambling, you practically picked him up by the scruff of his neck and said “i choose this one!” and eddie just went along with it and has never questioned it and never will.

eddie gets lots of questions about it— “how did a guy like you end up with a girl like her?” and eddie just shrugs everytime, all ‘i’m just happy to be here’ type of attitude. and when the people find out it was you that asked eddie out instead of the other way around, well the story only gets more confusing for them but it makes complete sense to the two of you and that’s all that matters

and yes he does eventually get his shit together, but he’s still a lil loser while you’re dating. gets flustered and blushes like a little boy when you push his hair back and call him your baby. chokes on the smoke of his cigarette when you step out of your house in the tiniest little skirt known to man because you just look that good. gets so entranced with how pretty you are and the sound of your voice that he misses the table when putting down his beer during dinner (robin witnessed it all and definitely teased him about it)

but he doesn’t care if he gets teased for it. he’s yours 100% and that’s perfectly fine.

[mipexch]

compiling all my gens. you will look at my bug!

[senkkei]

jan 2024 is soon you need to draw jean smiling

we are receiving more than the annual dose of radiation

[birdperselias]

Memory Rick and his BP pls, anything, anything with them but I need them, I'm rabbid

🩵🤎🩵🤎🩵🤎🩵🤎

based on that one scene in S5E8!

i think rick spent a lot of time just looking at him and that's what bp remembers

normal ver and screencap under cut!

[blackfilmmakers]

Hello! I was wondering if it was Okay to ask for some tips on how to write a black horror antagonist respectfully? I’m a horror author and I realized that my horror villains are not very diverse, but I’m afraid of falling into stereotypes.

Things to consider when making a Black Horror Antagonist:

-Who is the protagonist in relation to this Black antagonist? Is it a White kid? A group of people with fairer skin compared to the Black antagonist? If you aim to make diverse stories, you can't just make the antagonists poc and call it a day. Society already use the narrative that Black ppl are out to terrorize White neighborhoods with malicious intent, to justify killing us. Birth of a Nation glorified the Klan so well(cinema-wise) it literally brought back the Klan. We also have this ongoing rise of anti-Haitian crimes(AntiBlackness overall) because some White woman wanted to make a meme of Haitians eating cats

-If they are a magical antagonist, is the magic they used based on Black or Brown cultures that are already demonized enough? The recent rise of anti-haitian propaganda does stem from the stereotype that Haitians practice cannibalism for their "satanic" ritualsm. Which the word, "cannibal" was a slur that refers to islanders apparently. Anyways you can have your magical Black antagonist, but if they start writing in vodun symbols and wear feather headdresses, reconsider that it's just "if it's a vague Black/Brown religion it's automatically scary"

-What is their personality like? Are they cunning and creative and clever? Or are they a simple-minded beast? In The Promised Neverland we see two caretakers(they are antagonists): Isabella and Krone. Isabella is a fair-skinned woman who is presented as intelligent and cunning with her villainy. Whereas Krone's villainy depicts her as a monstrous beast. We already have enough Black antagonists that are essentially the main villain's attack dog, with very little focus on their motivations. If you wanted to write about a monster/beast that has no intelligence you could always write that instead. But if you have a Black human being, well humans can be written in so many different ways, do use that opportunity

-Consider whether or not your Black Horror antagonists are ableist narratives. Ableism is already a problem in horror stories already. But when it comes to Black neurodivergent/disabled people, you have to be extra careful with that. Sonya Massey's disability (and aave) made those cops murder her because at the end of the day, she's a Black woman they didn't bother to hear out, and needed an excuse to shoot her. What you write as a "scary" trait for your Black antagonist, could support ableist narratives that disabilities/neurodivergency are inherently dangerous

-Colorism can be an issue here as well. Even if you do have a Black protagonist, are they someone who is lighter than the villain? Dark=/=Inherently Bad, and Light=/=Inherently Good

-Horror is all about exploring a fear (societal or individual). So this is when you have to ask yourself, what do you fear? What do you think your readers' fears are when they read about this Black villain character? You can't control your readers' perception, sure, but fiction doesn't exist in a vacuum. It can challenge societal expectations or support them. So with all the points I listed down above and whatever points I didn't say, this could all attribute to the "horrors" or the "thing you need to fear" in the story. Do your readers find the Black antagonist scary because they are a well written antagonist with proper motivations? Or are they conditioned to see Black people as scary?

-In terms of how these characters speak or their motivations, that I have to advise getting several Black beta readers(that aren't just your friends) to have review your work. If your character is a disabled Black person, get a disabled Black reader. If they are Jamaican character, get a Jamaican reader. Hell, ask these readers if they even find your Black villain intimidating or compelling.

All in all, if you write about a Black character you really need to write them as you do for your White characters. The problem I think most nonblack writers have with this advice though is that they read that as "write Black characters as White(the default)". That won't work. You always have to consider a Black character's Blackness and how that interacts with the world you created

@/writingwithcolor and @/creatingblackcharacters would probably have more input

TLDR: Make the final girl a darkskinned Black woman

[drawnfamiliarfaces]

Heroes of Millennium (HoM) AU

Act 1, Omake 2 (Extra): Barrier Team. - (here)

Act 1, Omake 1 (Extra): Master of Time. - read here

Act 1: What was left behind. - read here

[theworstcreature]

I may be a cis she/her girlie but if there is an upset conservative in the room, my gender is whatever will piss them off the most. Might even go a lil crazy and say I support basic human rights

[ladyofthecreeddraws]

SHOCKING! Local Romanian does another IWTV screenshot redraw!

Ref under the cut~

[hugheses]

vanbasesports: BTS 🎥💥🤳

SHOP NOW | LINK IN BIO

[noctilin]

Hello. Would you be interested in sharing information about Cimmorro? I love your art and I think he is rotating in my brain. Like in a microwave.

of course! even better, let him tell you. he loves talking about himself

there's still a bit i can't quite share because he's my dnd pc. a few bits of his lore are yet to be revealed to our table. :) feel free to ask though and i'll see if i'll be able to answer! (may or may not be answered by cimm again!)

[ijscoupe]

(no pressure to write this of course!! Do whatever makes you comfortable and happy <33)

I live for angst, and this was probably done before but I’d love to see your take on it if it’s no bother:

Reader with Simon who believes that their feelings for him aren’t reciprocated, that he and some other recruit are an item and so they keep their distance

Until a mission goes wrong and reader protects the recruit with their life, thinking that by sacrificing themselves they’d make Simon happy.

But all this time it was a misunderstanding, and they don’t find out until Simon storms their hospital room later on pissed off about their grave injuries

it is no bother! i am angst queen. and this is actually all of my favorite things to read wrapped in one very bloody tortilla. thank you sweetie pie

fools rush in (where angels fear to tread)

Your heart feels constrained, begging to be let out of its cage and into his arms. It pulses, as your head fills up with needless thoughts of pure doubt. Doubt and her and Simon, and the sniper rifle you’re holding on so tight to without a thought taken to the bruises forming on your rosy knuckles.

You hear a distant– Close? –shout but pay no attention to it, instead squinting one eye and shutting the other so tight blood rushes like a stream to your head. “Hey,” A gruff voice sounds, splitting in the air like a throwing knife to your ears. It’s nothing.

Nothing to you, at least, you know better than to assume any of his words belong to you. They’re hers, you’re sure of it. You suck in an estranged breath between your teeth, and aim right in between those stupid little beady-black doll eyes–

“Hey, are you even–?!” Ghost yells in your ear, and you flinch so hard you press the cold, steel trigger resting between your thumb and your pointer.

Fuck.

The man below the roof you’re perched on skitters away, screaming bloody murder to his mates. God, you’re not coming back from this, are you?

Simon gives you one final– definitely pissed off –look before dragging you and your gun away with him. Of course, not without bringing that dumb little new recruit along with him. He leans close to your ear, teeth grinding your fucking feelings down with seven thoughtless words spilling out of his mouth.

“Do better. What’s the matter with you today?”

Your heart pangs, an ache in your chest holding you strapped down so tight– yet your legs keep you moving, despite the grief popping like firecrackers in your chest.

While the matter he spat so rudely about, cuddled tight to his geared arm. Like she belonged to Simon. You had half a mind to split her head straight down the middle right then and there, but then it had dawned on you.

You were irrelevant.

In every instance, she’d taken your spot next to him– and he hadn’t done so much as tell her off. Ghost let her ogle over him, tracing gentle, kind (kinder than you could ever be) shapes on his hands when she’d gotten nervous.

She wasn’t built for the military, you clocked immediately as she’d been introduced– Soft, loving eyes greeting even yours with respect, unscarred, untainted skin. Unlike yours. Unlike yours, who’s had skin littered with disrespect and woe and torture from the moment you slipped into the world. She danced, daffodils lining the grass where she’d stood, entering the light like some sort of sacrificial-Disney princess.

And what were you to be, then?

An old crone utop your crowned palace of muck?

You didn’t fully know what had happened next– the recruit scrambling to protect herself from bullets, then yourself suddenly motivated to become a human meat-shield.

Of course this was how it ended. The old codger shot as a sacrifice for the beautiful lady, saved from ever leaving her ivory tower.

You wake up with a start.

Your arms are wrapped so tight you think you’re losing circulation, and once you realize no, you’re not in the fourth circle of hell, your eyes have wandered to the man at the end of your bed. Eyes closed peacefully and… snoring? Standing…?

His eyes shoot open, meeting yours. Veins practically bulge out of his built forearms when he sees that you’re awake, rushing to your bedside. You’re quick to defend yourself, worried that you’d caused a ruckus– a major supply and money loss from the doctor's efforts to save your life.

It was supposed to be a sacrifice. Something heroic, something unreachable.

Something you weren’t supposed to be here to see happen.

“I’m– I’m sorry– Simon, Ghost, L.T., you must be so pissed off with me, so done, I–” Your heart stops as his face draws together to a confused one. 

“What are you blabbering about?” He asks, eyebrows furrowed perplexingly as his hand is pressed firmly to your IV-ridden forearm. You stop, eyes trailing back to his worried face. He’s not… angry, no… his eyes are puffy like he’d been pre-mourning your death, his other hand gripping the sterile bed’s paper-flat blankets like that’s the only thing he could hold on to for you not to run away hurting yourself again.

Well, it’s not in your eyes, but you doubt he wants to hold you in this moment. Not now, when he’s not even sure your spine won’t collapse if you do so much as sit up.

“Alive and breathing for two seconds and you have the bloody gall to beg for your lover’s mercy?” You say nothing, the heart rate monitor’s steady beeping shooting up to an alarming shriek. He glances over at the hunk of metal, sighing, before getting on his knees.

He lowers his head onto your blankets, breathing in the bleach-lemony dryer sheet scent before closing his weary, tired eyes. “I was training 'er."

Nothing, again. Your heart rate smooths out to a slow beep on the screen, your eyes burning holes into Simon’s mask. “No other reason I’d let a pitiful thing like ‘er follow me around.”

“Promise, love.”

divider by astralnymphh <3 thank you lots for reading my angels my babies. i now have an emotional attachment to you all. so