#is that morally wrong?

[molenaide]

TEAM MILES ✨💯‼️

[stil-lindigo]

mumbattan's one and only pavitr prabhakar!!

prints

[ruiiplume]

"Unmasked"

I wanna add more but maybe next fan art 👍🏾

[realbeefman]

how is this show real

[doomed-era]

not "they did nothing wrong" or "they are a horrible bastard" but a secret third thing: they did things wrong and I like that about them but everyone over-exaggerates their negative impact on the story

[nightowl374art]

hold up.

[frodo-a-gogo]

Let us be brutally honest with ourselves and with eachother for a moment. If he weren't obese you motherfuckers would be capable of percieving evrart claires sexy sexy moral ambiguity and complex charms

[writer-room]

I think another clear theme of Spiderverse is that, as we’re told in the first movie, anyone can be Spider-Man. But in the second movie, Miguel tells us that Spider-Man has rules. Certain things have to happen, certain people have to die, certain people aren’t meant to be Spider-Man. And the message there is that, once someone makes those kinds of rules, you run. Because it’s just not true. Anyone, literally anyone, can be Spider-Man. There is no requirement. We’ve been shown you don’t even need to be bitten by a spider!

And with the amount of people comparing Spiderverse to the queer experience, this is especially important. There are no rules to being queer. There are no labels that are exclusive. There are no labels that are even required. As soon as someone says you can’t be queer in a certain way, or certain identities don’t ‘count’ for whatever reason, you need to run. They are liars. There are no rules, and there never have been. You are queer because you said so, and this is your decision alone.

If you decide you’re Spider-Man, then you’re Spider-Man. And if you decide you’re going to save everyone you can, then you will. It’s as simple as that.

[ghostbsuter]

Honestly, when bart came back to the past for his mission, he didn't expect to see one of his friends he left behind.

So excuse him for standing still and gaping like an idiot at the clearly looking teenager on his phone.

"Danny?!"

At the call, the stranger– his bestie— looked up.

"Bart!"

It is his friend.

The same black haired, too blue eyed teen with baby fat clinging to his cheeks, the same way his hair appears white and eyes green when unfocused and not paying attention.

Holy shit.

"How are you in the 21st century?!?!"

The boy merely blinks, looks down on his phone, and then looks up again.

"I should be asking you that! How are you here??"

"Timetravel duh! What's your excuse?!"

"I'm immortal???"

(It's similar to the spiderman meme, truly.)

(Bart is slightly glad none of his teammates or mentor or family members are here.)

—

It became somewhat of a game for them.

Everytime the speedster appeared in a different year, hell even universe for the kicks, the first thing he does is search for Danny.

(The teen is there, each time.)

And every time he succeeded, Danny helps him with the problem, or slightly nudges him to the path really.

(Each time bart worries less for the time stream and disturbances, his friend seems to be outside of it to truly bring harm.)

(And if he meets Clockwork along the way, that's a secret between them. And the part where he gets hired for the similar stuff danny gets sent to the past.)

(For them it's a casual Wednesday. So what if they just saved an entire planet? Its nothing big!)

—

Bart should have thought more over the decision to help the literal being of time itself.

Considering he is currently seated on a chair, Barry, Wally and dozen of other heroes (including his team standing behind him in an effort to show their support.) With demands of an explanation.

Damn it danny, why did you let those in the 13th century paint a portrait of them!!!

And the apparent ancient Egyptian art of them too?? In a museum??

What the hell danny!!! Way to throw him under the bus!!

[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.

—

[nychthemeron-rants]

What's a little necromancy between friends?

[cherryvampiro]

PunkFlower c0mm for Pelledorso_ (Insta) 💕💕 Thank you so much for c0mmissi0ning me!! 💗💗

+ Lil' silly bonus pov scribble 📸😊

[kakapim]

One hilarious thing about detco movies is that they usually play an anti-piracy warning beforehand, and it's always so ironic when Kaito appears in them. I firmly believe Kaito would want you to pirate as much as possible actually

[000marie198]

Guys, Reminder to BOYCOTT PARAMOUNT

Don't use their streaming service to watch anything you've been looking forward to.

Don't go to the theatre for their upcoming movies

Boycott Paramount

If You're too caught up in ur knuckles series or Sonic 3 excitement to not boycott Paramount, we're not friends.

[jasontoddenthusiastt]

Honorary appreciation post for this mentally exhausted sweetheart.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

The girls are plottinggggg

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