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#just like u bats
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They're holding hands
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canisalbus · 7 months
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I have sighthounds (greyhounds) at home and I just love your characters!! (hope you do not mind silly art) So.... what if Machete.... but borzoi >:D
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scatterbrainedbot · 7 months
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the trouble with being the one who survives is you must keep on doing it
inspired directly by @onionninjasstuff 's heart wrenching comic of Future Donnie's death (read it!!)
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ryllen · 22 days
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i saw these two posts [x] [x] and be like 'ah yeah this makes sense'
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sonicplushiee · 27 days
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Hi I’ll post these here too ^_^ my silly sonic hc redesign doodle thingys yas !!!!!!
Edit: btwww if anyone is wondering these aren’t designs for an au or anything ^3^ just redesigns for my fav characters!! I haven’t made new lore they’re all apart of their own canon if that makes sense (just cause I’m realising posting mainline idw and Archie characters all together kinda looks like it’s apart of a bigger au but no they’re not just wanted to clarifyyy!!! But also idc if u see my designs as an au lol)
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jeysuso · 1 year
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#something something steve harrington bloodied and bruised #something something stroke his hair after licking him clean
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b4kuch1n · 8 months
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siren
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s4lv4tions · 5 months
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war god sukuna has no need for you. you know this as intimately as you know yourself.
he is a monstrous god, well-suited to the mantle he was given from birth; two pairs of muscular arms as thick as the average man’s torso, two cruel faces, a gaping maw carved into the hardness of his stomach. to peer into sukuna’s eyes is to see death and famine and destruction — wars raged long before you and long after you — and live through it all.
he has no need for you. he is perhaps more powerful than the entire pantheon, even the six-eyed-one and the curse-consumer, who swallows the sky every day to bring night. you have little understanding of the sheer magnitude of his power — your pathetic human brain can only fathom so much — but you know that sukuna, undoubtedly, is the very meaning of the word. and yet, he keeps you.
you are not a concubine, though he shirks those he has in favour of your company. you are not a general, nor an admiral, nor a soldier, and yet he seeks your counsel. you are not a mage, and hardly a grand priestess, and yet sukuna finds your door instead of that of his great temple, where hundreds live and breathe to serve him.
you had only reached the status of alter-maiden before your own temple was crushed to dust; little responsibility was given to you beyond tending the hearth, studying, and occasionally helping with chores. but sukuna dresses you in the finery of high priestesses — gauzy crimson dresses that bare your stomach and chest, fine golden jewellery and garnets that appear almost black in low light — and instructs you to dance in the way your superiors did. dances of worship, dances that he does not need, because he is already all-powerful.
the dances fit you like armour fits the weedy frame of a young boy — your legs don’t quite stretch far enough, your arms can’t move with a fluidity only gained by experience — but sukuna watches you like you are a sorceress, enchanting him with each step. he hushes uruame as they try to speak, insisting on remaining undisturbed during your worship — and when you finish, panting and glistening with sweat, your god only hums in satisfaction, grin all sharp-toothed and feral.
it must be blasphemous, you think, to perform such revered dances so clumsily—
but perhaps even more blasphemous, though, is the lingering touches your god fixes upon your waist; the hunger in his eyes as you dance; the scrape of his pointed nails against your jawline; the tent in his robes at the sound of your laboured breaths after dancing.
you fear the god of war means to have you in more ways than one — and worse still, you can’t find it within you to care.
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hyunpic · 7 months
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michaeljoncarter · 6 months
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i really don't mean to sound like a dick, but the more i see people trying to talk about "nuclear/traditional families" vs "non-traditional/chosen families," the more it really seems like a lot of people have absolutely no idea what the hell they're talking about or what these "chosen families" that defy the traditional family structure they claim to like so much even really look like
sorry, but "what if there was no mom" is not some crazy, groundbreaking unconventional dynamic. yes, the dictionary definition of a nuclear family is "het couple + kids," but also it's not 1956 anymore. single parent families are basically just nuclear family lite at this point. there's really nothing all that mold-breaking about an only-technically-non-nuclear-family where the only real difference is that you deleted the woman lol
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shower-phantom-ideas · 7 months
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Another DPXDC post for the first time
Yall remember winged danny? Yea me too the good ol days lads
But imagine Danny in Gothem cause hes either on the run from his family or the GIW you decide boys on the run and probably alone.
He gets picked up by the Waynes at some point and eventually he goes to have the “im not normal talk” but they all know. He is a meta or something. They have been waiting for him to be ready to tell them, if ever. They would accept him no matter what.
Except the time comes and he just “I have wings” and like everyone is shocked™️ Danny gets the idea hes about to be rejected and starts to fold in on himself and someone better snap out of it before the kid cries. Alfred is the one to speak first probably.
Just everyone so shocked but I mean it’s more a shock that they missed this instead of that Danny has wings. After that they fully accept him and apologise. Someone says the “we thought you were about to tell us about your powers!” Danny just has his own little moment before shouting “YOU GUYS KNOW I HAVE GHOST POWERS!?!?!!!?”
Anyway they move on and Danny hardly brings the wings up again but he does get seen around with them every once in a while. But eventually they find out hes not taking care of them as he should. It’s probably Duke who sees Danny with his messy wings and offers to help him.
Let Danny get help with self care ok. The Bats would all go nuts learning how to take care of Danny if he ever asks.
Now imagine the reverse of this and they all know he has wings but not that hes the High Ghost King Phantom.
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puppetmaster13u · 21 days
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Thinkin' of WOF Au for DC, but like, it's a Gothamite and Fawcett thing. (And Amity Park if crossover)
Like those are the most magical areas in the world, even if Gotham is cursed as fuck. An unspoken secret of sorts that while they present themselves as human to outsiders, they are all Very Much Not.
Which means hilariously in the league, when everyone expects Batman to be suspicious and short with the new guy- even made bets on it- they are then shooketh when both visibly relax and start talking. And half the shared complaints don't make sense!
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Now Gotham technically has no Queen, nor does Fawcett, but Batman and Captain Marvel are the closest things. Not in the traditional sense of back when they were in separate tribes (& maybe from a different dimension but shh that was millennia ago) but in the sense of, they're the ones patrolling and protecting the cities along with calling the shots in disasters.
Which does sort of change the dynamic they both have in their city. If one of them calls to arms, the city would follow them. They could declare war, and their cities (begrudgingly in Gotham's underbelly's case of strongest is in charge) would follow. And while Billy is oblivious, both Marvel-the-not-hivemind and Batman are. They know they have to be very careful.
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I'm sure we all want Nightwing Bruce but no. Bruce, like both his mother and father and father's father and so on before him, is actually an Icewing. The Waynes however, have a case of melanism running in their bloodline. Thomas Wayne? Only his quills and part of his back were darker, but Bruce? Practically pitch black scales that shadow his eyes.
Now Alfred on the other hand, is a Nightwing. No special powers there, though you would hear many a child protest with how he seems to know everything.
Commissioner Gordon is a Mudwing, big stocky and very tired, which translates to his human disguise as a large trenchcoat. He finds this very amusing. Barbara similarly, is half Mudwing. Her mother was a Hivewing, making her a hybrid between both. Which does ironically mean that Batgirl does in fact have insectoid wings. Though that does ponder the question on if they'd all go by their original vigilante names.
Dick is a Silkwing. Wingless as he watches his parents fall and unable to do anything despite this place supposedly being safe for beings like them. He grows into his own, and his wings, when they come in, are dark Gotham colors through and through, with the deep blue of the sky he's come to crave.
Jason is a hybrid between a Mudwing and a Skywing. He's also an animus- not that he knew that. He doesn't find out until he's dying, telling himself to not die, to get back to Gotham, to his dad, his family- And then he wakes up in his Coffin, alive.
Now Cass, raised to be the perfect killer, is also a hybrid, just one between a Nightwing and a Rainwing, egg set out under the moon. Which succeeds, partially. She can't straight up read minds, but combined with her talent in reading body language on both human and inhuman bodies, it's a near thing.
Tim is a Seawing, borderline abandoned by his parents who seek treasures and more wealth as he's trapped back in a city where the water is dark and poisoned. But he's Gothamite, through and through, and he adapts. Scales darker than the original blues he was born with, and glow shifting to that sickly white of the Gotham's Bats.
Now Steph, is a full-blooded Rainwing, and can in fact change her scales, but can mostly be found in purples and golds. Though for a short time she was in another set of colors, thought dead before she slithered out of the shadows older and wiser than before.
Damian is his father's son, but he's also an Al-Ghul. The not-quite dragonet is half Icewing, and half Sandwing. And struggled to adjust at first, to a place so different from his first home where the only other dragons were blood related. But like any Wayne before him, he adjusts, and he adapts.
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Billy wasn't a Beetlewing originally, and perhaps he would have hesitated if he'd known it would change him, would change his body and the last thing he had of his parents. But his friends, his Team and new family help. And he can pass as a Silkwing like their sort-of foster mother. All six of them can do so now, even if the others look more like hybrids themselves thanks to not being the Champion. They might not be, but they're his family. And that's enough.
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sadboyhrs · 1 year
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all the rich do is steal from the poor
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whoreraccoon · 6 months
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Dp x dc au
Where Danny starts hanging around the batfam and just straight up doesn’t explain shit. Like he’ll say shit like “yeah my parents made a portal to hell in my basement and since then I’ve been fighting ghosts” and not elaborate at all
Like he does some wacky shit with his powers and they’ll be like “how does ur flying work?” And he’ll b like 🤷🏻‍♂️ “idk man I just do it lmao”
And then he’ll switch forms and they’re like “u shapeshift?” And he’s like “sure!”
Like, no context, no trauma dump, no explanations, just danny fucking around with some superhero’s who are greatly confused and concerned
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cuubism · 1 year
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Okay but AFTER Dream dramatically storms into Desire's realm yelling "WTF did you do to Hob" I can't imagine Desire just...ignored that. They 100% had to go check out this human and see what is so interesting that Dream is all twisted up in knots over him. Can very much picture Desire swanning into the New Inn in their craziest Lady Gaga outfit already drinking a cosmopolitan and introducing themselves to Hob. Because Desire realises that rather than plotting Dream's downfall they can fuck with Dream INFINITELY more by bothering his immortal crush. It's the sibling instinct.
oh. they DEFINITELY will. and like. eventually dream explains his whole thought process, and the fact that desire has fucked with him in the past (hob: dear god why is your family so fucked up), and dream is basically like: DO NOT. ENGAGE WITH DESIRE. IF THEY TRY TO TALK TO YOU. just call me (he still does not have a phone so unclear how this will work) and i'll kick their ass.
critical point: dream did not in any way tell hob how to IDENTIFY DESIRE.
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The person who struts -- it's really the only word Hob can think of -- over to the bar at the New Inn makes him uneasy, though he can't say why. Hob is not made uncomfortable easily, he's lived too long and been in too many scrapes to feel intimidated in his own pub, of all places.
But something about them makes his hackles rise. The eyes, maybe. They're too cunning.
But he's not in the habit of throwing people out on looks so he just offers a tight smile and says, "Get you something?"
He's tending bar himself, today. Gives him something to do between terms. And he finds himself strangely grateful to have the bar between him and his strange customer as they slide onto one of the bar stools.
"Cosmo, please," they say, voice like sugar halfway to caramelizing, a bit of pop and smoke in the smooth glide.
This is a bit of an odd drink selection for eleven in the morning, but Hob has, at various points in his life though thankfully no longer, done lines of cocaine before even having breakfast, so he really has no pedestal from which to judge.
"Coming right up."
The bar at the New Inn is well-stocked nowadays. Used to be, they served mainly beer and wine, nothing fancy. Then Hob made the horrible mistake of promising his students an end of term cocktail-making class if they came to all the exam review sessions -- because he does actually know how to make drinks, he's been alive for six centuries, thanks very much -- and now it's become a thing and he's stuck doing it forever.
Then Dream took to his drinks, and alcohol is no substitute for food but getting Dream to eat or drink anything is a bloody miracle, so if that anything is the bougiest mixture of alcohols Hob can come up with, well--
Actually. Actually that might be worse than nothing at all.
Makes Dream happy though, so what is Hob to do? Keep ordering luxardo cherries and elderflower liqueur until he outlives them, that's what.
He finishes shaking the drink under the heavy gaze of his guest and pours, sliding it across the table to them.
Hob feels like he's being sized up by a predator as they take a long, delicate sip. The color of the drink matches the pink of their blazer. Hob is struggling to recall if said blazer was actually pink when they arrived.
"Ah. You mix a good drink, Hob Gadling," they say, propping their head on their hand, looking a him from under their lashes, and, ah, so that's what this is.
Hob leans on the bar. "What sort of... entity are you, then?"
Their whole face brightens in what Hob thinks is delight. "Oh! So you are a perceptive one. Get a lot of entities in here, do you, Robert?"
"'Bout as many as can be expected. That's not an answer."
They pout. "Neither is yours. And can't a being just pop by the local speakeasy for a drink without being interrogated?"
"Seems a little unfair that you know my name, and I don't know yours," Hob points out. "Names have power, and so on, isn't that the thing?"
His guest studies him. "You are both far more normal and far less normal than I'd been expecting. Fascinating."
Um.
Before Hob is forced to respond to that, the door swings open to reveal Dream, shrouded in darkness and nighttime and vibrating with electrical fury. Shadows crawl up the windows. All the lights in the inn flicker out.
Oh boy.
"I," Dream says, each word a thunderclap, shining gaze fixed on Hob's guest at the bar, "Explicitly. Forbade. You. From. Interfering."
"What are you going to do, hit me?" taunts the other entity, leaning back on their stool, drink balanced in one hand.
Hob looks back and forth between them, wondering if he should fetch a weapon. He keeps a cricket bat here somewhere, surely...
"Dream, love," he says, once he's decided it's better to try to deescalate the situation rather than introducing further weaponry, "your usual?"
Dream nods, stalking over to the bar. His gaze flits briefly to Hob, softening, before snapping right back to the other being.
"I see you remain incapable of heeding a warning," he says, all ice.
"It's not really part of my nature," they say. "I see it, I like it... well, you get it."
Oh. Oh no.
Cautiously, Hob slides his drink over to Dream. Without breaking eye contact with... Desire? it must be, and thanks, Dream, for the complete lack of description, Dream picks up his drink and downs the whole thing in one long swallow.
Ooooooh boy.
"Desire," Hob says, and they perk up at his realization of their name, looking over at him, "might be better if you were going now."
Desire lets out a frustrated huff. "Ugh, of course. I certainly don't want to upset 'ole Nightmare here."
"You certainly don't want my fist in your jaw," Hob says, more audible threat in it than he intends -- but he remembers Dream's halting confession, about how often love had turned out to be manipulation, and he thinks he should be congratulated on his restraint, actually.
Desire just laughs, and-- ah, Hob is starting to see that there's no winning with this one. Even and especially when you haven't agreed to the game.
"I suppose I'll be going then, before the fists start flying." They slide out of their seat and glide towards the door, waving. "Nice meeting you, Robert! I'm sure we'll be seeing each other again, soon."
I don't doubt it, Hob thinks.
They take their drink with them. Hob's not feeling particularly inclined to chase down that glass.
Dream still hasn't moved. He stares after Desire, empty glass about to crack in his grip.
"Dream?"
"I said that you should call for me," Dream says, the ghost of words.
With what means, exactly? Hob thinks. Damned enigmatic shadow of a man. "You didn't tell me who to look out for."
"Oh." Dream finally snaps out of his daze. "Yes. I apologize."
"Come sit down."
Hob fetches a glass of water and drags Dream over to their usual booth, pushing the water into his hands. "Drink that."
Dream stares down at it. "Why?"
"Because you just chugged a drink you usually sip for hours. Drink."
"I will not get drunk unless I choose to," Dream says.
"Have you tested that?" Hob asks.
Dream's brows furrow. "...No."
"Then let's not do that now. Drink. Come on."
Dream sips at the water. "I am sorry," he says, slowly, "about Desire."
"And I'm sorry I didn't actually punch them," Hob says, making Dream look up at him in surprise. "Well. Sort of. Wouldn't want to make it worse."
A smile tugs at Dream's lips. "You would... defend my honor?"
"Always," Hob vows. "I'd defend you. Don't care if the devil himself has it out for you."
"That may well happen," Dream says.
Hob stares at Dream. Dream stares back.
"Oh," Hob says, or maybe just hopes, "you're making a joke."
"No," says Dream. "Lucifer and I are on poor terms at the moment. She may seek revenge."
Hob keeps staring at him. Dream meets his gaze evenly.
Hob scrubs his hands through his hair. "Lucifer and you..."
Why was it always like this?
When he looks up again, Dream is smirking at him. "You're a menace," Hob tells him. "One day, you're going to give me the full rundown of everyone who has beef with you so I can be prepared."
"That will be a long list," Dream says.
"Of course it is," Hob sighs.
Dream takes his hand as if he can comfort Hob through all of the insane interactions he's sure to have with strange beings in the near future. The worst thing is, it works. Hob squeezes his hand and immediately remembers why he's willing to do anything for him.
"I'd go to Hell for you," he says. "I'd prefer not to, though, if it's all the same."
"That is my preference as well," says Dream.
There's a lot Hob would do for Dream. It's probably unhealthy. But what's the point of living six hundred years if you're going to spend it all being healthy, anyway.
"Why do so many people have problems with you, anyway?" Hob asks.
Hob knows. Hob fucking knows why.
Dream pouts. "Matthew tells me my social skills are 'less than adequate.'"
That's one way to phrase 'you act like an arrogant dick 85% of the time.' Matthew should receive a medal for his tact.
Hob loves that arrogant dick, though, God fucking damn him.
"All the more reason to get me that list, then," Hob says. "Maybe we can prevent you from creating an interdimensional incident."
"Will you accomplish this by threatening to punch them in the face?" Dream asks, completely neutral.
"Okay, you know what? Fair," Hob admits, and Dream chuckles. "Perhaps neither of us is cut out for diplomacy. The point, though, is: of course I'd defend you. I love you."
Dream kisses the back of his hand. As if he's only just now realized what he's done to Hob's pub, the lights all flicker back on.
"Thank Christ, I thought I was going to have to replace all those bulbs."
"Do you think I would do that to you?" Dream says with a tiny smile, Hob's hand still pressed to his lips.
You've done worse than that to me, Hob thinks. Better, too. So much better.
"No, love," he says, "I know you wouldn't."
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DP X DC AU the Batkids recognize Danny because they've seen his TV Show!
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Discuss.
(I just think it is an untapped vein of humor and shenanigans, if not Truman's world style moral drama, to have the Batkids not only immediately recognize and know Danny but are able to sing his fuckin theme song at him. 😭 😭😭)
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