#never explains why

[kiwi]

everybodys gotta get back into the practice of using pseudonyms online... i remember the time of screen names where u never ever told anyone ur real name and that was just understood as basic internet safety. plus having a screen name is fun because sometimes it sticks so well that it becomes part of ur identity that u can use in whatever facet of ur life you choose. it rocks to pick your own name

[chloesimaginationthings]

The FNAF story of the one you shouldn’t have killed..

[starry-bi-sky]

I am loudly pushing the batdad agenda i am loudly pushing the— DPxDC Prompt

“Woah. You look like shit."

Granted, that’s probably not the first thing Danny should be saying to the guy that just bit the curb, but in his defense; he’s not running on 100% right now either.

The man -- tall, towering, and broader than Danny is tall -- whips around on his heel, black frayed cape flaring out impressively. Danny would've whistled in appreciation, but he takes the time instead to wipe the back of his hand across his mouth, smearing the blood running from his nose across his cheek.

"Sorry." He blinks widely, not even flinching as the man with the horns zeroes in on him. "That was rude of me. I have a really bad brain-to-mouth filter; Sam says its what always gets me into trouble."

And she's not wrong either, per say. His smart mouth is what landed him in this situation -- with blood blossom extract running through his veins and cannibalizing the ectoplasm in his bloodstream. Thanks Vlad.

The man grunts at him; a short, curt "hm" that shouldn't make Danny smile, but he does because he's somewhat delirious and probably concussed. The man keeps some kind of distance, sinking towards the shadows of Gotham's alleyway like he dares to melt right into it.

If it's supposed to scare Danny, it doesn't work. Danny's never been afraid of the dark; he's always been able to hide himself in it. He blinks slowly at the mass of shadows.

"You look hurt." The shadows says, blurring together around the edges. Danny squints, and licks his lips to get the blood dripping down his chin off. Ugh, he hates the taste of blood.

"I am." He says, "My godfather poisoned me. M'dying." The agony of the blood blossom eating him from the inside out looped back around to numbing a while ago, so all he feels is half-awake and dazed.

"Hey," Danny stumbles forward towards the man, a bloodied hand reaching out to him. "You-- you're a hero, right? You're not attacking me; which is more than I can say for most costumed people I've met." Maybe it's a poor bar to judge someone at, but he's already established that Danny's not in his right mind.

The man makes no change in expression, but Danny realizes blearily that it's hard to tell with the shadows on his face. He stays still long enough for Danny to latch onto the cape -- stretchy, but almost soft under his fingers.

He looks up blearily into the whites of the man's eyes. "Can you help me? I don't-- I don't wanna die." Again. He doesn't wanna die again. He blinks slow and lizard-like. "I mean- I'll probably get to see mom and dad again, but I told them I'd at least try and make it to adulthood."

There's a clatter down the street, and Danny's ghost sense chills up his spine and leaves a bitter, ashy taste in his mouth. He immediately knows who it belongs to even before the deceptively gentle; "Daniel?" echoes down the way.

"Daniel? Quit your games, badger, Gotham is dangerous for children."

Danny's mouth pulls back, and blood spills against his tongue. "Please." He rasps, and grabs onto the shadow's cape with both hands. "Please. He's going to kill me. Please--"

"Daniel? Is that you?"

His lips part, dragging in air to plead with the darkness again. He doesn't need to, the whites of his eyes narrow, and the cape whirls around him before Danny can blink. Soon swaddled in shadows, the Night lifts him up, and steals him away.

[sapphoismymuse]

rewatched aragorn’s coronation scene and i just realized you can see elrond’s heart breaking as she goes to join aragorn

like, that is the face of a man who was promised eternity with his daughter, a reunion in the west no matter what happened, only to lose her forever to love

[flickrrposts]

Thank you everyone for all the notes and kind words!!

Happy Barbie Day everybody!

[elodieunderglass]

And one amang, an Iyrysch man,

Uppone his hoby swyftly ran…

WAIT HANG ON - slamming the brakes on drawing this stupid picture - do you nerds even KNOW the etymology of the word “hobby”? The thing you do for pleasure? The thing you have too many of? The thing you spend too much money on and share with your friends? The thing tumblr probably is to you? Those hobbies?

It comes from a now-kind-of-extinct breed of Irish pony-horse. It was called the Irish Hobby. Supposedly the hobby got its name from the Gaelic word obann, or swift. They definitely were. They’d obann your pants clean off.

Fast tough little bastards, built for rough terrain and renowned for their speed and stamina, hobby horses belonged to the Celts, and their highly annoying style of mounted warfare. but their conquerors liked hobby horses a lot, kept them, used them for themselves, and found them useful enough, despite the fact that they also had famously useful things like mounted knights or horse archers. A lightweight Irish warrior, mounted on a hobby horse, was called a hobelar.

Reportedly and in depictions, hobelars rode without stirrups. Or saddles. Or bridles. Or - well - this is all sounding very improbable, because the hobelars COULDNT have just been charging around basically bare-assed on naked ponies, screaming, and somehow in the process undoing the composure of actual mounted armoured knights. Knights who, I remind you, had stirrups. Stirrups are useful! It’s quite likely the hobelars had some gear. And clothes. and weapons. And the ponies probably had some tack - I am picturing a bellyband that you could at least hang a saddlebag on, and a neck rope for catching the bloody thing, even if not a saddle. But the overall impression, somehow created by people on darling little ponies, was apparently quite striking and fearful.

I mean. God Forbid People Have Hobbies.

Anyway after a while, whatever people became the British had eventually conquered all of the rough terrain that hobbies were best at, and horse archers just got sexier, and mounted knights became aristos, and all the bog and forest people had been subdued, so it was time to sunset the hobelars. but WAIT! Hobby horses are still tremendously fun and appealing! They’re so fast! and you can ride them without a saddle! Sure, they’re not up to the weight of a mounted knight, or indeed a lot of guys… but surely we can still find a use for a hobby or two? In the back garden? Somewhere?

At which point an English king decided to keep hobby horses just for fun. No military application. No further development of the technology. Not for fun. Just as expensive, pleasurable, pets. Just for the joy of the thing.

And that is how hobby (activity done purely for pleasure) comes from hobby horse (small horse) possibly from obann (swift.) they’re very interesting and you should look all this up for yourself! because it sure sounds like Elodie doing a bit, doesn’t it?

Today, Irish Hobbies are functionally nonexistent. References for drawing include the Kerry Bog Pony, the Connemara, and (I personally think) Dartmoors and Exmoors. They’re said to have lent their speed to the Irish Hunter/Sport Horse and from there to the Thoroughbred, but every damn horse in the world claims relation to the Thoroughbred, and they can’t be THAT thoroughly bred.

At any rate - you can never have enough hobbies. Just be glad that yours aren’t expensive beasts with minds of their own, eating their heads off in the pasture! …Unless they are. In which case, you’re part of a proud tradition.

[lilybug-02]

Pain is a great motivator…

Part 26 || First || Previous || Next

—Full Series—

Meanwhile Toriel:

(Loud noises don't wake her up usually.)

Artist note: I’m so proud of this :))) I know it’s a lot of dialogue and reading, but dialogue is grueling work for me. I’m glad with the art and for the amount of pages I made in such a relatively short time span -w- page 5 was super fun to work on. A lot of blood, sweat, and hours here... :) The backgrounds were a big bore tbh, but I finished them! Yippie!

[dandey-lion]

DP headcannon where instead of Danny knowing all dead languages he gains a teeny tiny amount of the language of somebody who’s died. Like if a Latin person died guess what Danny knows a few Latin words now. And this stuff stacks so if a (very terrible) event happens he could potentially learn entire languages with slang, accent, sayings- the whole package.

Anyways he’s trying to explain to Superman that he’s not kryptonion.

[leclercari]

Kieran Culkin wins Best Supporting Actor | Oscars 2025

[mirror-and-mind]

Unpopular opinion but I actually don't find the second Medicine Seller all that talkative. True, he's more talkative than the first Medicine Seller, but all that's required to be more talkative than the first Medicine Seller is a willingness to say good morning to someone instead of staring at them like a morally offended cat.

As I said after the first time I watched the movie, the first Medicine Seller actually seems to me to talk more, if only because he has stuff to say about the mononoke's Truths and Reasons. Movie Kusu is extrovert talkative—he'll talk if he wants to gossip or if he just wants your food. Series Kusu is introvert talkative—he won't chitchat, but give him a topic he's interested in and he'll tell you about it in detail and at length.

[zubzooks]

siffrin, stardust, whatever our real name actually is …

[kit-screams-into-the-future]

was having trans marty thoughts again and i came to a realization about this scene

[starry-bi-sky]

bruce and danny being fuckign nerds together,,,, they are being the BIGGEST nerds. geeks. if you will

these losers are color-coding the most inane bullshit. they are making diagrams for things you've never even thought of. they are having the time of their lives

"what are you two doing?"

Danny, sitting criss-cross on a table, hunched over a spread of papers and a bunch of different jello cups, his back is gonna hurt SO much: color-coding jello

Bruce, sitting in a nearby chair, also criss-cross, scribbling on a graph paper: hm [agreeing]

Alfred, already exasperated and SO fond: may i ask why? and on what parameters?

Danny: we're basing it off which flavors are the most mentally stimulating and for which subjects :}

Alfred, SO fond: ah. i see.

Danny, snapping his head over to Bruce and leaning over: wh- no-- no. Buzz, I told you: lemon-flavored jello stays strictly in the 'smelling salts' category--

Bruce, still writing on the graph paper: mn. no.

Danny, nearly sprawled across his back, faux-outraged: strawberry is NOT good for math-- you fucken HEATHEN--! Give me that pen!

Bruce, did that solely to rile up Danny, now trying not to smile: hnm.

[ghosty-scribblings]

Okay I am just gonna throw something out because I got to thinking about and what is this blog for if not to yell into the void?

Danny gets hired as a janitor at the Daily Planet. It's just a job, something to make money and not clash schedules with his Metopolis Community College classes. But while working there he meets this reporter who is definitely also not fully human.

Does danny care? Nah. Not causing problems. None of his business. Not his circus not his monkeys.

But imagine the hijinks.

Clark? Initially confused but also glad at meeting someone so chill? One story about the ecto-weenies later and he has to know more. Let these two goobers bond over "what is my life" and "ya got a little not normal right there." This Danny guy is just a chill civilian friend he doesn't have to hide from.

And Danny? Staying-in-his-lane and sleep-deprived-college-studenting so hard he doesn't even realize his fellow not-baseline-human friend is Superman. Clark is just his friend who is also trying to be Normal.

[rainbowsuitcase]

What about Ice and Mav whose first several meetings happened a couple years before Top Gun at a random bar in Tennessee, where Ice was the god of the karaoke machine and Mav was the master of the mechanical bull.

Maybe Mav is staying at Goose's place and Ice is visiting his grandparents, and the locals are all absolutely delighted when they show up on the same night. They don't know each other at first, but they get to talking eventually, buying each other drinks, fucking. They switch stetsons a couple times, just for the thrill of it, throwing looks at each other across the bar.

The last time they see each other, Mav has to leave the bed early in the morning because he was so caught up in Ice that he forgot he and Goose are leaving. He grabs Ice's stetson by an accident and doesn't realize until he's packing his things.

He carries it with him everywhere he travels for years, just on the off change that he'll get to return it, but Top Gun is the last place where he'd expect it to happen.

That first night, he comes to the O club wearing it. He catches Ice's eyes across the room and there's not a hint of doubt in them. He's on Ice's radar, he's just waiting for him to fire.

And Ice does just that when he follows him to the bathroom with a smirk. "You know what they say, Mitchell? Wear the hat, ride the cowboy."

"You know I know how to ride it, Kazansky."

[hannibalspubes]

IM LOSING MY MIND RIGHT NOW GUYS !!!!!

LOOK

She’s standing on his feet 😭😭😭😭😭

This is so cute I’m going to die