#tshirts&shit

[quirkycontradiction]

[wilmaaaa0]

they got that shit on fr

Bonus:

[pissmoon]

'I want to be a part of an edgy/morbid music based subculture but im too much of a soft eared pussy to listen to edgy or morbid music that isnt pop' is, was and will be an embarassing take

[shrimpchipsss]

the professors shen should never have been forced to share an office

wasn't professor shen the senior being associate professor shen the junior's PhD advisor enough?

[greenglowinspooks]

(DCXDP) The obligations of a rogue versus those of a parent (Pt. 5)

—

Tw: torture scene (GiW agent receiving), general angst, canon-typical violence (DC), nobody is having a good time

Will be crossposted to AO3 eventually

(Masterlist/subscription post)

—

It was pretty easy for Danny to forget that Dr. Crane was a rogue at times.

Most of the time he wasn’t comically evil, like what he’d expect of a Gotham rogue. He was helping Danny, even if only because he didn’t want to be taken in by the GiW as well. He was even downright nice most of the time, or at least neutral.

Sure, he had a strange obsession with fear and psychology, but that wasn’t really out of the ordinary for Danny. It didn’t feel like living with a rogue, just like…staying with a distant relative, or something.

He seemed like just an ordinary person.

Today, though, Danny was brought back to reality.

The GiW agent they’d tracked down together writhed on the ground, screaming in pain and terror. Scarecrow was sat a few feet away, setting up a syringe of the antidote he’d made.

After a few more moments, he injected the man with the antidote, watching him like a hawk the entire time.

Suddenly, the man surged forward, lunging at Scarecrow with a feral scream.

Unluckily for him, though, he was still weak from the fear toxin in his system, and from the beatings he’d received prior. Scarecrow easily wrestled him to the ground, settling himself on the broad part of the agent’s back with a vice grip on one of his arms.

“Let’s try again,” he said sharply, all of the warmth Danny had grown used to gone from his voice. “Where is the GiW base of operations?”

The agent took several shuddering breaths before spitting at Scarecrow, defiance and hatred written all over his face.

For just a moment, the room was utterly silent.

“Fine, have it your way.”

Scarecrow began to twist the man’s arm further. It wasn’t long before the agent began to squirm, then writhe, beneath him. Danny’s stomach churned.

“You know,” Scarecrow began, almost conversationally, “there are plenty of jobs that one can get without the use of their legs, especially with the level of education you have. Anything that doesn’t involve hard labor, really.”

The man’s face was beginning to turn red in his struggle not to scream. He took in gasping breaths, the way that his mouth moved almost reminding Danny of a goldfish.

(He felt awful for the comparison, but it was true.)

“However,” Scarecrow continued, “I find you’d be rather hard-pressed to find a job without the use of your arms. Especially in a place like Gotham, where you can always be replaced by someone eager to do your job for even less money. Of course, you could most likely coast off of savings and severance pay for a while, but…”

He leaned closer to the man’s head, his voice lowering.

“Would you be able to live like that? To live with yourself, if you no longer have a purpose?”

He allowed the agent a few seconds of rest before increasing the pressure on his arm. The agent gasped, letting out a strangled hiss. His arm bones were making fascinating noises in response to the strain. Danny felt sick.

“You seem like a rather driven young man. I’m sure your family would hate to see you unmotivated, directionless. Would they resent you, do you think?”

“Fuck you, you—”

The man was cut off by his own scream as Scarecrow finally allowed his arm to break, audibly splintering into thousands of useless shards of bone.

He had the exact pressure memorized. Clearly, he had done this before.

This was wrong. This was wrong.

Shouldn’t Danny step in, do something?

“That won’t heal cleanly. Even with the best medical care in the world, you’ll end up with permanent damage.”

The man below him wheezed and sobbed, choking on air as Scarecrow let go of his arm carelessly, letting it flop back onto the ground.

“Just the sort of thing something like you deserves,” Scarecrow hissed, his voice cold.

“You tortured a child, and you enjoyed it. You laughed with your friends about it. In your notes, one of your friends complained about the screaming,” Scarecrow brought his leg around, grinding his boot into the man’s broken arm. He howled in agony, writhing uncontrollably.

“Was it inconvenient to him, do you think? Too loud? If you were joking about it, clearly you thought so, too. I could fix that as well.”

He drew out another needle, this one once again filled with fear toxin.

“Scarecrow, wait,” Danny choked out.

Scarecrow turned to look at him.

Even his posture was different than usual. He looked… stiff, more like an animal than a man. When he tilted his head at Danny in a silent question, it looked like something in his neck had snapped, his head lolling to the side.

Danny wondered if he was consciously moving like that, or if it was habit at this point.

“You—we don’t have to do this. We can get information some other way, right? You don’t have to…”

Danny looked down at the GiW agent below Scarecrow. He didn’t even have it in him to glare up at Danny like he had before. Instead he laid limply on the ground, tremors rolling through his body uncontrollably.

“We’ve exhausted every other option and you know it,” Scarecrow said, his voice low, “this is the only way we can move forward.”

“Still, I—I don’t,” Danny swallowed, his throat tight, “this isn’t—this isn’t right. Isn’t there some other way to do this? Like—a truth serum, or something?”

“Truth serums are notoriously unreliable. They’re almost as bad as lie detectors. We’re much more likely to get a reliable result from this.”

Danny just stared at the GiW agent and his splintered, ruined arm. He began to weakly wriggle in Scarecrow’s grasp, which was graciously ignored.

He vaguely remembered himself doing the same thing when he was on the operating table; even if he knew there was no chance of escape, he still thrashed and screamed, desperate to get away. The jagged I-shaped incision on his torso felt uncomfortably warm.

What was there left to say?

“The Bat does the same thing at times, you know,” Scarecrow said, “him and the rest of his brood. By using my toxin, I’m actually lessening the amount of permanent damage that I’m doing. Physically.”

“Still, that doesn’t make it right,” Danny said desperately. “Even if—even if everyone in the world did this, it wouldn’t make it right.”

Scarecrow hummed.

They were both silent for a moment.

His next words were gentle, absurdly so when compared to the scene in front of him.

“I would love an alternative. But…”

He shrugged, hand coming to rest on the break in the GiW agent’s arm. Even without applying any pressure, the man stopped squirming immediately.

“There aren’t any other options,” Danny repeated, his voice flat and his body numb.

“Yes,” Scarecrow said. “I’m sorry.”

There was a pause. No one moved a muscle. Eventually Scarecrow spoke again, his voice strangely empty.

“You can stand outside and keep watch, if you’d like. At such a short distance their radars won’t pick us up.”

Danny said nothing, leaving the room silently.

He sat outside for quite a while.

He was grateful that Scarecrow had, with his help, dragged the agent to one of his previous hideouts. It was soundproofed, after all.

He was glad that he didn’t have to hear the rest of what Scarecrow did to the man.

After what felt like an eternity, Dr. Crane left the building, joining him outside. He guided Danny back to his beat up old truck and they drove home in silence.

“Did you at least…do you know where they are, now?” Danny asked as they entered the apartment, his voice small.

“They didn’t share the details of all of their locations with any one person. I know where one of their locations are, but not their main base of operations.”

Danny felt disgusted. With himself, with Dr. Crane, with the GiW.

He was disgusted by the agent, too. Did he just hate the restless dead so much that he would prefer to be tortured than to give them the upper hand? Did he really think he was in the right?

Was there a chance that he was?

Danny felt very, very small, and very stupid. Stupid and weak and cowardly.

“Danny,” Dr. Crane spoke, his voice soft.

“I’m truly sorry that this is happening to you. I really, truly wish that you didn’t have to endure my company. I…”

He fell quiet. Danny wondered if he was just saying this to pacify him, or if he truly meant it. He wondered if it really mattered in the end.

After a few moments of silence, Dr. Crane sighed, looking truly pained.

“I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

Danny was quiet.

“I’m going to bed early,” he finally said, turning away and leaving without a second glance.

—

[a-scary-lack-of-common-sense]

Oh, so when my favorite character has trauma, they get to receive a bunch of deeply tragic and emotional fanart partaining to their narrative arc and character with beautifully crafted heartwrenching visual symbolism and artistic imagery, but when I have trauma-

[sugarsweetvirgo]

💎💎💎

•

•

Singles under the cut!!

[yellowvixen]

Saw smth pretty damn cool at comic con today!!

(Faces blurred for privacy lol)

[thesummerstorms]

Ok but Mrs. O'Leary gets around primarily through shadow travel. Gotham is like. Capital of weird ass dangerous shadows.

Annabeth Wayne gets cornered by something dangerous, mythological or rogue doesn't matter, while on the streets of Gotham.

The Bats have eyes on her, but they're still working with an ETA, so she's going to have to either stall or get herself out of trouble. And honestly? She could. If needed.

But whoops what happens to be in that massive creepy Gothamite shadow?

Oh nothing. You know. Just a pissed off hell hound that does not appreciate one of her humans being messed with. A very loyal hellhound with very sharp teeth.

Anyway, the problem resolves itself pretty quickly after that although it takes Annabeth's best commanding officer voice to get Mrs. O'Leary to "leave it" when the enemy flees.

Unfortunately, now they have a new problem. The Bats have finally shown up and whatever they're seeing instead of Mrs. O'Leary is absolutely not normal, in fact probably something related to capes. They're understandably weary and already geared up for a fight and Mrs. O'Leary absolutely reads that as hostile intent towards her and her secondary person. Despite Annabeth's protests, Mrs. O'Leary steps over her, growling and showing teeth.

Once again, Annabeth's voice is channeling every single bit of "Athena as a general" when she orders Mrs. O'Leary to leave the Bats alone. Damian watches with interest as Annabeth throws in a few loving pets and Mrs. O'Leary whines in confusion.

The rest of whoever showed up just watch, baffled as the giant [whatever the Mist is going to show a vigilante instead of a hellhound] looks anxiously between Annabeth and the Bats and then, seemingly coming to a decision, just... melts into a puddle of shadows.

The vigilantes don't even get to relax before Annabeth sighs and starts counting down from "thirty Mississippi". A few moments later, the shadows warp again and Mrs. O'Leary reappears, carrying a struggling Percy Jackson by the back of his pajama shirt.

"Mrs. O'Leary what the actual fu- Annabeth!"

Mrs. O'Leary whines again and drops Percy in front of Annabeth, growling softly when one of the Bats attempts to step forward.

Annabeth sighs again. "Sorry. There was a whole- it doesn't matter, actually. But I think my brother scared her. I guess she got confused when I told her to knock it off."

"And what," Percy asks, sparing said brother a glance, "She thought I was going to talk sense into you?"

Annabeth can't help but laugh a little, weirdly soft for the situation. Despite everything, she steps in to give Mrs. O'Leary more scritches. "Apparently."

Slowly, Mrs. O'Leary's tail starts to thump, taking out a few trash bins in the process. She's still crying softly, but apparently the Main Human's lack of reaction is starting to convince her things are okay.

"Well," Percy says, grimacing as he shifts in his now dog-drool covered shirt and then raises a casual hand in the Bats' direction, "uh, hi, I guess. Umm. I'm Percy?"

"What the fuck?" one of the Bats whispers.

Damian has taken Annabeth's nod as encouragement and moves forward to try and pet the Hellhound.

[quirkycontradiction]

I received one of my sample shirts today. Although I am not thrilled with the thank you card, I love how the shirt and branding turned out.

[22bananapudding]

we need to team up and beat him to death with hammers

[lovelyrotter]

ill probably delete this in a minute but ive just been fuckin boggled by what ive seen across tumblr in the last few days in particular. its why i havent really been around. like holy fucking shit, its really like some of yall just dont want a chunk of the trans community to exist. like some of yall are thisclose to saying it verbatum. way too many already have. 'shut up sit down be quiet and smile for us' type shit, gee where have i heard that before. oh yeah my entire life cause i was forcefully gendered as someones daughter. shock horror i know. you might be surprised to remember and/or learn that very few trans folks know theyre trans before we're 5, or even 10, and that that gendered experience stays with all of us in both/either small or large ways. either bc we literally dont have a solid identity yet (bc we're very small children), dont have the words, we're repressing it out of fear from how others will treat us, we're actually enjoying or enjoyed being another gender in our childhood, or we just genuinely didnt fuckin know until shit lined up later in life. weird isnt it that transmascs dont pop out as 6'1 brick shithouse cis men when we're born so yall know for certain that we're confused lost girls/women oops i mean big dangerous scary men. its almost like we're transgender too. none of yall actually know what intersectionality is or means

[sqrkyclean]

I just think stories about an AI doing exactly as they’re told and hurting people because of it are GOOD. Because I too follow instructions exactly as they’re given to me, but it’s never good enough. It’s about the

[optimisticsposts]

Versatile Style: Perfect for casual outings, parties, or a unique gift idea.

Embrace the freedom to be yourself—because sometimes, a little mischief is the best defense of all. Grab yours now and let the world know that in your case, being left unsupervised is just part of the charm!

[arkhamsgirl]

ive never been normal about anything ever, proof? my favorite bands lead singer’s crazy ex girlfriend had a crashout in like 2017 and i have the comment on a tshirt. this blackbear & arz shit going on rn is putting me back in the trenches

[pyaari-naari]

Ye wali nautanki karni hai tumhare sath. Aur tum ho ki aate hi nahi ho.