#and this guy is gonna be running away

[cerbreus]

The guy I'm going on dates with doesn't really like bugs (doesn't hate them) but I gotta be honest that's been kind of a turn off because one of my favorite outdoor activities is "wow look at that bug 👉🐛🪲🦋🐌🪳🕷️"

[starry-bi-sky]

im being hit with The Visions again

the Vision this time is a "homeless danny in gotham" au except its pre-robin Batman again because im on a batdad kick. --------------------

Danny finds a car.

Which-- isn't, like, anything super interesting or impressive. It's Gotham, it's a big city. There's cars on every corner, can't throw a stick without hitting one somewhere. And then setting off the alarm.

But-! It's a car, and it's past midnight-- or he thinks it might be past midnight, it's late enough to be. He doesn't have a watch and he left his phone at Vlad's; asshole put a tracker on it after the last time Danny ran off.

It's been over a month since, it's a new record -- last time it took just over two weeks for Vlad to find him and drag him back to the mansion. This time, Danny ran further. Left the state and everything. See how long it takes Vlad to find him now, hah.

People go missing all the time in Gotham.

Anyways-- there's a car, and it's midnight, and it's parked in an alleyway. Danny would've called it invisible with the way he pretty much trips over it, phasing through the wall of the building beside it and not watching where he's going, but it's not. So he doesn't.

Danny runs into the hood and nearly faceplants right into the darn thing with an 'oomph', hands catching himself on the metal as a flash of irritation flashes hot through his gut. It doesn't hurt or anything, but getting the wind knocked out of you sucks always, and he's tired and hungry, and as a result not in the best state of mind.

He's just about to sink his foot into the side of the wheel -- it wouldn't do anything, he's not that big of an asshole, but it's the principle -- when he stops.

Danny pauses.

He takes a step back, holding his hands out 'n' everything, and examines the car. He squints, trying to get his eyes to adjust to the darkness, considering the closest streetlight is twenty feet that way and positioned in a way that none of the light is hitting it.

Danny would not call himself a car guy. He doesn't think he counts, considering his size and lack of everything. But, but, he knows his way around a few cars, and he had an old obsession with older models when he was little that kinda petered out of existence after his accident. Had a bunch of little car models sitting on one of his shelves back in Amity, and Dad offered to get his hands on an old car for the two of them to fix up together so it'd be ready for Danny when he got his license.

...Anyways.

Point is: Danny can appreciate an old car, and this car has an older -- albeit obviously modified, if the matte paneling and plated wheels meant anything -- look to it. That kind of flat top went out of style years ago, and it's got this kinda rectangular look Danny doesn't see often these days on modern cars.

Other than the electrical cars, but he doesn't think those count. That's boxy, not rectangular.

Danny frowns, tilts his hands down, and leans back further as if that will let him get a better look at this thing. "...What model is this?" He mutters, it's hard to tell in this lighting.

Wait, he should see if there's anyone in the car. It's not running or anything, and nobody's come out to yell at him -- or shoot him -- but, still. People are crazy in Gotham, crazier than they've ever been in Amity. The last thing he needs to do is piss off some guy from the mob.

Danny peers into the window and-- there's no window, okay. Well, no window, and no driver. Some idiot left their car unprotected and without windows, in Gotham?

He pulls on the door handle just to be annoying -- it doesn't budge. Okay, maybe not that stupid. Especially since Danny didn't even see it until he was quite literally running into it.

So. Not that stupid.

Danny looks around warily, pulling his hoodie around him tighter, and then starts circling the car slowly. Like a vulture. No license plate; shocker. Hear how shocked he is? Clutching his pearls right now.

"Reinforced bumper. Cool." he says, er- whispers, really, quiet enough that it doesn't even echo. Danny squats in front of the car and runs his hands over the -- what, should he even call this a bumper? It's bigger than his head, and it's covering the grille. He picks at these... things on the side that remind him of leather straps. Probably to keep this bumper up? Like a ratchet strap?

Danny leans back until his butt hits the ground and he can sit back properly, propping himself up on his hands -- maybe not a good idea. There's probably broken glass somewhere here and he doesn't wanna pick shards out of his palms, again. It's like popping the world's most annoying zit depending on if it gets under the skin.

(He could always just phase them out, but the picking gives him something to do. It doesn't hurt that much.)

Eh. It'll be fine.

With one knee propped up, Danny looks the front up and down, and furrows his brows. The style kinda reminds him of a dodger, especially with the placement and style of the headlights. He plants his hands on the concrete -- hissing when he feels something cut into his palms, ow, there's that glass he was talking about -- and leans down to look under the car.

Hm, nothing jutting out that much. Looks pretty normal. Good space between the bottom and the ground.

He gets up and circles the side again, brushing whatever pebbles or glass that could've stuck into his skin off. He's really curious about where the owner got matte plating for it, or if it's just a wrap. The silhouette's definitely sixties or seventies; too angular for the eighties and fifties.

...There's no one here, Danny looks around again just to make sure, cranes his ears to catch anything. Nope, just the typical quiet rumbling of Gotham's underbelly. It kinda reminds him of Amity, or-- no. No, it reminds him of the quiet groan of the Zone.

That's far more comforting, he thinks. Danny's never really liked Amity all that much.

Back to the car: there's no one around, so Danny folds his arms against the side of the door and sticks his head inside the window. No keys in the ignition, should've figured.

Not like Danny was planning on stealing the car anyways -- anyone capable of modifying a car into this kinda beast -- or paying someone to modify -- was not someone he wanted to piss off. Danny's an orphan, not stupid.

Ignore the fact that he's got his head stuck through the window. The interior isn't anything interesting, but the seats are made of leather, which is nice. Must be a pain in the summer or winter, but leather is cool, and gets stains out better than cloth.

No stick shift though, he's a little disappointed.

Danny presses his mouth into a line and then slants it, humming in the back of his throat. Honestly, he's kinda tempted to crawl in and go to sleep. The leather seats look really inviting, and he's been sleeping on the ground or on park benches for weeks, and the car is really well hidden. No need to worry about being kidnapped.

But, it still belongs to someone. And they're probably using it for something shady. They'll come back for it eventually, so he should get this gawking over with anyways.

And, and-- and. He wants to get a look at that fucking engine. 'Cause holy shit!

Danny pulls his head out of the window and half-dances over to the back, his hand curling around one of the bars as a grin spreads across his face. Now, Danny hates Christmas, but this, this is like it came early and good for once.

"You could smuggle moonshine with this thing," Danny says to himself, grinning ear to ear and running his hands over the edge of the metal. The car is too conspicuous for backroads driving, but the engine, wow. What a thing of beauty.

One of Auntie's friends would probably know what engine it is -- or what type of engine it's based off of, it could very well be a bunch of different engines frankenstein'd together. Danny doesn't recognize it.

Which means it could be illegal. Again, what a shocker. In Gotham? He's clutching his pearls.

Fully satisfied with himself, Danny dances around to the front again and holds his hands out. He makes an 'L' with both hands and shuts one eye, getting the car within the frame of his fingers like he's about to take a picture.

"I rate you," Danny makes a camera shutter sound and mimics taking a photo, "one cool fuckin' car."

"Thank you."

Danny doesn't scream. He does not. He's taught himself better since ghosts started popping up in Amity, and honestly he deserves some credit for that considering they only started popping up over half a year ago.

He does, however, gasp. And he gasps hard, the type that has a high chance of giving you the hiccups afterwards; the painful, chest-thumping kind. Danny slams both hands over his mouth and stumbles backwards, eyes wide and his heart kicking into the fifth gear in his ears.

Bleeding out from the shadows is a man entirely drenched in black, Danny can hardly make out his silhouette and barely catches the white glints of his eyes. Fear like a prey animal burns in his lungs, wild and rabid, Danny has half a mind to bolt.

His ghost sense didn't go off, which might just be the most terrifying thing.

The man doesn't move any more than a step, just enough that Danny can barely see him, but he can feel him watching him. Shit. Shit. He should've never stuck around.

His hands are still over his mouth, Danny, shaking, flutters them open, "How-- h-- how--" he wheezes, "how long have you been standing there?"

[redsray]

Red Robin Au where after Battle for the Cowl, Jason (instead of donning that ridiculous pill helmet) goes back to visit Talia and blow off some steam with the LOA; it's an effective way to do so at first, as long as he keeps Ra's at arms length and has all the Bats away from him. Except is that Timothy fucking Drake working with Ra's al Ghul.

So now Jason's like oh my god are you kidding me why is Tim here working with Ra's of all people??? Last he checked, Dick was Batman now and Tim was part of that gaggle of Robins in Gotham. Not here, in Nanda Parbat.

Tim, fresh from a splenectomy: Jason?!

Jason: What the fuck are you doing here?

Tim: ??? I could ask you the same question??

Jason: No the fuck you couldn't?? I trained with Talia and now I'm back here for a bit, and I'm not the one missing an organ right now?! Why aren't you back with Dickbat in Gotham??

Tim: Well. Let's say I'm not Robin anymore

Jason: ... Not... Robin?

Tim, scowling: Dick gave it to Damian.

Jason: Dick is Batman for like a month and already gave the traffic light leggings to a mini assassin? Nice.

Tim: Ugh

Jason: And... this was enough reason to run away and get impaled by assassins in Iraq? While working with Ra's al Ghul?

Tim: Well, not really. I need to find Bruce, and Ra's is the only one who will help me. Even if he's a freak of nature.

Jason: Bruce... are we talkin' about another Bruce or did I miss a memo? Bruce is dead, Timbo.

Tim: He's not. He's trapped in the timestream and trying to get back. And don't- don't tell me I'm going insane with grief or in denial. Laugh all you want, then leave. I don't need this shit again.

Jason: Trapped in time? Damn motherfucker can't even stay dead?

Tim: ... You believe me?

Jason: Sure. Not the craziest shit we've seen. I have a feeling you wouldn't go as far as Ra's if you were actually going off nothing. (mumbling) stealing my schtick. What a bastard.

Tim, blinking: Wow. That... just wow. That was easy. Dick thought I was losing it with grief and so has everyone else.

Jason, shrugging: B is definitely stubborn enough to get lost in time instead of dying and, frankly, I know what being off yer rocker looks like, and this ain't it. I climbed out of my grave, for god's sake, is time shit really off the table? Wouldn't hurt t'look if the old man's still kickin'.

Tim: Uh-

Jason: First stop: away from Ra's, preferably. Talia's not bad, but Ra's is a whole other can of worms. Get up or I drag you.

[piperonipizzabot]

Hey guys

[shanklin]

It’s the most honest job Stan’s ever had.

Sure, the company he’s working for is downright diabolical, scamming their customers in all aspects of life, but that’s not Stan’s problem.

As Le Ville Corp’s most successful customer service agent in the Oregon area his only job is to follow the company guidelines, sell as many bad deals as possible and never ever let anyone back out of a contract. 

Morality aside, nothing the company does is actually illegal, so at the end of the day Stan gets to collect his almost-minimum-wage-sized paycheck and go home in the knowledge, that no pigs will come knocking on his door anytime soon.

Life is good. Or at least as good as it gets where Stan is concerned. Last month he even got a raise for selling every bad product the company had to offer to one poor kind sucker. 

From household appliances to car insurance, magazine subscriptions and even their extremely shitty telephone and electricity contracts - the McGucket guy brought it all.

Thanks to him, Stan could upgrade from his car to an almost black mold free one room appartment with a community bathroom one block over.

Stan was finally moving up in the world and then his phone rings. He recognises the number. It’s his good friend Fiddle-not-gonna-say-the-rest McGucket.

Stan grins and cracks his knuckles. It’s about time McGucket figured out he’s gotten scammed. Time to make the poor guy’s life a living hell. No one is getting out of a contract on his watch.

“Thank you for calling Le Ville Corp. For us you are more than just a customer. You are family! This is Piers. How can I help you today?”

The moment Stan starts his greeting, he is bombarded with noise disturbances from the other side.

Ah, the good old Le Ville Corp telephone network working as intended. Maybe Stan can convince the guy to upgrade to a slightly less egregious version. 

Wait, what did he say?

His name is Dr. Stammered Lynes? Weird, but okay. Still better than Fiddle-nope-not-saying-it Hardon McGucket.

As it turns out, Stan finally met the mysterious roommate whose money McGucket has been using to pay for all of their products. Stan didn’t think the guy had it in him to ditch his roommate after the scam got discovered. Good for him!

Now, how to best screw Dr. Lynes here over.

***

An hour and a half of data security safety questions and a new phone contract later the doc hangs up to Stan’s cheery and corporate mandated farewell:

“And don’t forget we here at Le Ville Corp consider you our forever family, because you will stay with us forever!”

***

Stanford Pines just had the worst month of his life [not counting the weeks after the science fair that he refuses to think about].

The portal test was a disaster, his partner left, his muse refuses to explain himself and on top of all of that his new fridge won’t open, because this week’s subscription fee hasn’t been paid yet.

What the f-FIDDLEFORD!

[irishmammonagenda]

"Mams...you okay?" You grin tiredly and teasingly ask your First Man, who is currently in the process of tearing up, his lips wobbling silently as he attempts to keep it in.

He looks up at you from where you lay exhausted in the hospital bed, attempting to blink back his tears. "Oh aye..." He replies shakily. "I-...I've never bin 'appier....Y-you should g-get some sleep...MC...get yer strength back..."

You grin stupidly at him, eyes closing sleepily as he watches you from the seat beside your bed, his attention drifts to you and his eyes water even more, the sheer lightness of the small weight in his arms making him dizzy as he leans further back into the armchair.

He looks down at the sleeping newborn in his arms. His baby girl. Her little yellow hat sitting perfectly on her little tiny head. He's sure she could fit on just on of his hands.

His bottom lip trembles, heart so full of love for the tiny thing in his arms it feels like it might burst. He holds her to his chest, bringing one finger up to gently caress her tiny tiny cheek. He sniffles, holding back happy sobs as he whispers gently. "Hiya little baby....I'm yer papa....I'm gonna take well great care of ye...I-I..I promise...Íosa Críost...yer tiny..."

Mammon looks over to your sleeping form in the hospital bed and slowly inches his chair even closer to you, so as not to jostle your daughter too much. He grabs his phone off of the nightstand and makes an order for your favourite food to be delivered for when you woke up. He chuckles softly as he texts the groupchat, telling them that you and the baby are okay.(albeit slowly seeing as he's only able to use one hand)

He asks for Lucifer to send over the cake he made with the horrible icing saying 'Congradulation COngratulations, MC, Your You're so amazing' so he could celebrate with you when you woke up from your much deserved nap. He turns off his phone and sets it back on the bedside table next to yours which is charging.

He could celebrate with you after, you could laugh at how he looked like a deer in headlights when the nurse asked him if he wanted to hold his baby for the first time. He could spoil you more than he ever has before (which isn't humanly possible considering how much he spoils you.)

But that could all wait for when you woke up, right now he was content just watching over his favouritest girls in the whole wide world, making sure you were both safe and sound.

But you should never trust a scheming scumbag, MC.

Oh no, fuckhead was already coming up with plans to spoil your daughter silly. That was his little princess, God dammit! She deserved the three worlds combined! And even then she deserved more! And don't get him started on you, you weren't going to even think about doing chores for at least 6 months. You just preformed a miracle. You get rest time. No buts.

In the softening light of the sun through the windows, Mammon holds your baby girl with so much gentleness, as if she'd crack at the smallest touch, his loving gaze flickers from you to her with so much tenderness, you would've thought he was an angel.

[nyankoizumi]

Honestly this is why I keep calling their ship redsuits in my head because I want a distinction between normal present day spamtenna and big shot spamtenna because they feel so uniquely tasty. Do you guys understand

[king-of-the-butterfly-gore]

veteran fans never forget what they took from us

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

It's the 6 month anniversary of this blog! Check out these cool bugs I found.

(EDIT: Check out this amazing fanart by thecornermushroom!)

Part 2 - Part 3

[mrmeepsmadmind]

traumatized dickweeds turn to torturing each other so they can distract from the fact that they both need therapy

[luck-of-the-drawings]

OOH YEAH BABY ITS THE SURGERY EPISODE BABY!!! ME AND THE HOMIES NEED SOME NEW FACES FOR OUR NEW PLAN, AND WHO BETTER TO GET THE JOB DONE THAN THE TWO MOST EVIL PEOPLE WE'VE EVER HAD THE MISFORTUNE OF HAVING OUR LIVES VIOLATED BY? I MEAN IT WOULD BE FUNNY. IT WOULD BE FUNNY.

[fisheito]

rereading the nuca pink doujin and seeing yakumo tear himself apart re: his snake form vs his human form all this agony and self-doubt and silent suffering and fear of rejection like "if i looked less human would u hate me" , "if u saw me in my true form wouldn't that be horrible. terrifying. disgusting" , "if i admitted i want to swallow you whole would you think worse of me"

and i imagine him asking something like this to the crowd of clan members , who are , undeniably,, a group of Kinky Fuckers

they all smile with the serenity and carefully masked excitement of a horny olivine. masterful beautiful reassuring expressions (errr..... masked to different degrees depending on the clan member)

[musicalyeetreblr]

The crazy amount of commonalities between these 2 ships

[darkdragon768]

Looking up the different routes on the deltarune wiki and... yeeaa I would have never discovered the snowgrave route on my own.

[archaeopteriex]

Doing solsah w the Eu Sem Voce trend thing !!!! AHHH I feel like it fits them sm and ive been wanting to make this ever since the start of Saheon's arc!!!!!! Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaa i love solsah pls be happy guys !! 😭😭😭

[a-bucket-in-the-void]

i’m so rabbit coded you guys have no idea