Tumgik
#no kings no masters
thecatfarm · 6 months
Text
Thinking back, it feels extremely insidious, how my environment tried, again and again, to shove nationalism into my personality, by any means necessary. History, essay writing, sports, even music -all insisted that I need some nationalism in my blood, or I was the weird one.
Thankfully, because I was already weird and proud of it, and because I had two nationalities, the lesson never stuck. I don't care if "my" side wins, because the concept of sides, in and of itself, is absurd to me.
Not that I didn't try, mind you -I tried to be a Czech footbal fan, and a Greek radical, and various other things, tinged in nationalism, but it never felt truly honest, despite the momentary high it gave me, and I quickly dropped it.
I was lucky to have it affect me as little as it did. And, even then, I still had to remove some nationalist thinking from my brain as I grew up. The battle against the propaganda never stops.
3 notes · View notes
columboposting · 3 months
Text
rewatched Last of the Time Lords
Tumblr media
4K notes · View notes
sacredrealm64 · 8 months
Text
Tumblr media
I was literally blown away by Tears of the Kingdom. I've literally never had this feeling for a game since Ocarina of Time. It definitely had exceeded my expectations. Easily Game of the Year. I cannot wait for the Future of Zelda!
8K notes · View notes
goatpunches · 4 months
Text
Tumblr media
the idea came to me in a fever dream
2K notes · View notes
p4nishers · 5 months
Text
god. GOD. the underlying anger in everything terry writes really IS apparent in hogfather bc fuck u mean this is how things should be? no the fuck it shouldn't. poor people shouldn't have to be satisfied with what they get, that's just fucking capitalism. i REALLY like that terry decided to use death as projection for what he thinks bc death doesn't know anything and it has to be explained to him and by it being explained to him it shows how fucking stupid those things are. bc ok here's this world where an equivalent of santa ACTUALLY exists and, because it mirrors our world, it's still unjust. santa actually fucking exists in this world and he could give ANYONE ANYTHING bc he's essentially a god and people gave him that power by making him up, BUT because ppl imagined him in a way that poor people don't get shit (like they usually do) and rich people get EVERYTHING they want, he exists like that. whereas death has seen the absolutely WORST of humanity and he STILL thinks that's bullshit and it's not how it should be, it's just how it goes. bc capitalism is always capitalism where there's money and the world will always be fucked up as long as there are oppressor to hold it up. like i just.
3K notes · View notes
deadsetobsessions · 4 months
Text
DCxDP Writing Prompt: (I wrote some myself but yk)
Ghost was Gotham’s first cryptid. That’s right. Even before Batman. He’d established himself in the city as someone who takes care of things, helps the weak, aid some of the strong trying to do good. His information network sprawled the expanse of the city. In between the day the Waynes died and Batman’s reappearance, Ghost set up shop and slowly began to remove the sludge clinging to Gotham’s spirit.
Danny thought the name was a little bit on the nose but as someone who used to go by Invis-o-bill, he definitely wasn’t complaining.
Besides, people had accidentally aligned with ghost culture when they began calling Gotham his haunt. It was, and having people recognize that helped to boost his core. It was his haunt, and while he was taking down mob bosses, they were also considered his to take care of.
Which meant Danny felt it the moment Batman stepped into his haunt. He stayed his immediate violent reaction only because Gotham herself materialized to stop him from scalping the guy. She whispered to him how his parents died on these streets, how she wanted to choose him as her Knight. The Lady Gotham looked at her King, and asked him to withhold his judgement, bowed her head and pleaded.
Danny, eyes glowing a toxic green, stared at her until the rage from Batman’s presence- invader! trying to steal his haunt!- had calmed.
And he agreed, probationally.
The Ghost stood back and watched, commanding his network of people to assess and judge the Bat as a possible asset. A possible ally.
And so the Ghost’s continent of people, from prostitutes to white collar workers, from street kids to socialites, watched.
And Lady Gotham’s knight proved himself. And he found one of Ghost’s informants. And Danny?
Danny tilted his head back and laughed, glad he allowed Bruce Wayne to live despite his unknowing transgression.
1K notes · View notes
mebis-art-dump · 2 months
Text
Tumblr media
Been feeling a bit artblocked lately (and not because of a lack of ideas/stuff to do) so did a bit of doodling to unstuck a lil
891 notes · View notes
azherwind-art · 11 days
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Don't tell me it didn't happen
644 notes · View notes
greenglowinspooks · 6 months
Text
(DCxDP) The obligations of a rogue versus those of a parent (Pt. 4)
Tw: descriptions of body horror, Dr. Crane has PTSD and Does Not Realize, Crane has an actual panic attack and just doesn’t care, the Riddler makes one (1) sex joke about Batman
Will be crossposted to AO3 eventually
(Pt. 1 here) (Prev here) - (Pt. 5 here)
(Masterlist here)
Dr. Jonathan Crane is in his lab, the acrid scent of chemicals filling the air, and his hands are shaking.
Danny’s health, for the first week that he had him, had been steadily improving at an extremely quick rate. However, his healing had begun to stagnate. Danny said that it was because his body had run out of ectoplasm, and that while there was a lot of ambient ectoplasm in Gotham, he needed a stronger type in order to heal.
And so, that led Dr. Crane here.
He had stolen the research notes from the Penguin years ago regarding his experimentation on him.
(He quite vividly remembers the sound of bone creaking and groaning as it twisted, lengthened. The squelching of shifting tendons and muscles, the strange fabric-like tightening of skin. The feeling of going from man to monster, of losing all claim to his humanity.)
Danny had called him Liminal, part ghost. He had said that he was transformed by, among other things, a kind of synthetic ectoplasm.
Danny needed ectoplasm.
Crane had the research notes. He had every ingredient necessary. And yet, attempt after attempt failed.
The chemical smell burns his nose. His hands tremble.
Dr. Crane is not afraid.
He doesn’t feel fear anymore. He’s tried to, many, many times, but nothing has worked. And yet, his hands are shaking still.
(The horrifying sensation of vertebrae pop-pop-popping along his spine, growing and lengthening. The unbearable itching beneath his skin as toxin glands begin to form. The feeling of his teeth sharpening and elongating, of his skull growing, of his vision changing and brightening. The awful stench of chemicals. The awful stench of ectoplasm.)
Jonathan takes careful note of his shaking hands, his blurring vision, his accelerated heart-rate and shallow breathing.
(Human hands. Human vision. Human heart and lungs and organs.)
He takes note of them, but he does not let that distract him from the task at hand. Danny is not a chemist, but Jonathan is.
The boy knows enough about chemistry in theory, but he won’t go anywhere near Crane’s equipment. He seems to have some sort of intense fear of laboratory settings, probably developed during his stay with the GiW, and Crane is willing to respect that, if only because he cannot afford to lose him.
As such, Crane is the only one qualified to do this. And, unfortunately, if he isn’t successful the boy may very well die.
He heats the chemicals to precisely the right temperatures, adding each one to its correct container.
Dr. Crane thinks of the Scarebeast, that creature born of cruelty and greed and a sense of superiority. That creature which he tries to ignore is a part of him, that can never be removed. A damage which cannot be undone.
He pours the contents of a small beaker into a larger flask, watching the liquids swirl together. The stench in the air is becoming closer and closer to the one burned into his memory.
Crane’s whole body is wracked with unpleasant sensations. It’s truly unfortunate, he thinks, that despite his mind’s lack of fear, his body still reacts so harshly.
Jonathan’s eyes wander, eventually settling on a purple and green card sitting innocently on the corner of the table.
Right.
Even if they wiped out the GiW tomorrow, and even if Danny could survive without ectoplasm, he would still be in danger.
Crane has to get him back to good health. It’s the only way he can be sure that the boy can defend himself properly.
The solution in the flask begins to foam, and Jonathan does not hesitate as he adds the final ingredient. He pours the mixture into a new container, capping it and placing it into a freezer set to -40 degrees.
Hopefully this time he got the timing right.
Jonathan tries to relax, the ventilation in the room slowly but surely clearing the familiar smell from the air.
He thinks of the letter.
Surely, he thinks, that man can come up with some better material for his jokes. Or, at least something new.
Same old threats, same old attempted poisoning.
Aiming his threats at Danny, though, that was new. New and utterly unacceptable.
Scarecrow did what he had to.
He doubted that his solution would last forever, of course, as with that man it never did. As such, he would prepare both himself and Danny for the inevitable moment that his choices came back to bite them.
However, for the moment, they were safe. Danny could rest and recover, and Jonathan could figure out a plan to minimize possible damages.
Jonathan is no longer shaking.
He’s exhausted. This is his fifth attempt today, and each one leaves an unfortunate strain on his mind and body.
With a sigh, he settles himself into his seat at a nearby desk, opening up his computer and logging his most recent attempt. He still has to wait for it to chill to know if it was successful, but he can always update the logs later.
Once he’s done, he stretches, joints popping loudly as he walks to the freezer.
When he sees the results of his tireless work, the ghost of a smile flits across his face.
Success.
Jonathan picks up the jug of ectoplasm and leaves the lab, which is in all actuality the basement of the new apartment that he moved himself and Danny into after receiving the note. The scrappy old woman who was his landlord had told him that as long as he paid her five hundred dollars up front, she would let him set up in the basement without any questions or cop calls.
And so, the most expensive apartment in the Narrows was his.
At least, he thought, the distance between the basement and the apartment was short enough that Danny didn’t have to sit in while he was doing his labwork.
Jonathan knew that he didn’t exactly have a strong grasp on the concept of ‘lab safety,’ proven by his built-up immunity to almost every toxic chemical he’d ever encountered, and he doubted that Danny should be around such an environment.
He was back to the apartment quickly, not bothering to hide the self-satisfied smile on his face. Danny is sitting in his armchair, trying to read one of his books. Danny looks up, ready to greet him, when he sees the jug in his hands and pauses.
“Is that..?”
“Synthetic ectoplasm,” Jonathan says proudly, “I found the Penguin’s research notes and decided to recreate it, since you said that you needed it to heal properly. I’m not sure if it’ll work the same as what you usually have, but I hope it’s helpful all the same.”
Danny is standing, now, and looking at Jonathan with a strange look in his eyes. He looks, Jon thinks, like he’s about to cry.
Then Danny is rushing forward and wrapping his arms around Jonathan, his scrawny form shaking.
Jonathan is, for a moment, horrified. Did he do something wrong somehow? Why is this child, who’s so afraid of touch, hugging him?
And then he hears Danny’s voice, and he knows that it was all worth it.
“Thank you,” he’s mumbling, over and over, “thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you so much.”
“Of course,” Jonathan says softly, because what else can he say?
The boy cries in his arms for a while, and Jonathan briefly wonders what his life must have been like before, if a person like him can be seen as a comforting figure.
Then, Danny pours himself a small glass of the synthetic ectoplasm, putting the rest into the small fridge which had come with the apartment, and he settles back down, sitting in the armchair once again.
Jonathan sits opposite of him, and they chat with one another as Danny drinks.
Danny talks to him about the stars and tells him about different spaceships, and Jonathan makes sure to pay attention and ask the boy questions.
He doesn’t miss the way that Danny lights up every time he asks him something about his interests. He’s so passionate, so smart, a trait that he seldom sees outside of his fellow rogues, and Jonathan wants to encourage that.
It’s…nice. Peaceful, almost.
And then the front door flies open, because Jonathan isn’t allowed to have nice things.
“Jon,” a familiar voice rings out, “what the hell?!”
Danny is frozen in place, clearly terrified.
Jonathan heaves a sigh, turning to face the nuisance who’s entered his apartment.
“Eddie,” he drawls, “to what do I owe the pleasure?”
Edward’s face is red with anger as he invades Jonathan’s apartment.
“Oh, I don’t know! Maybe it’s the fact that you sent a bunch of rogues a cryptic message and then dropped off the face of the earth for two weeks! I was worried, Jon!”
Jonathan hums in acknowledgement.
“I didn’t think it was that cryptic,” he says, picking up a book in order to pointedly ignore the Riddler.
“Oh, of course you didn’t, you straw-stuffed hickory dickory dickhead. I swear, you’re always—” he pauses, finally having noticed Danny sitting opposite of Jonathan, “—who is this?”
“My apprentice,” Jonathan replies, dreading the upcoming headache he was no doubt going to develop from Edward’s company, “he’s helping me hunt down the GiW. His name is Danny.”
Edward gasps dramatically.
“You—an apprentice?! And you’re letting him sit in the old man chair?! You don’t even let me sit in the old man chair,” he wails, draping himself over the headrest of the couch with a flourish, “Jonathan, I thought I knew you!”
“Edward,” Jonathan says, “get out of my apartment.”
“Oh my goodness, this is incredible. You’re becoming the bat!”
“I am not becoming the bat, Eddie, now get out.”
Edward has a shit-eating grin on his face as he waltzes over to Danny. Danny, who seemed terrified when he first appeared, is now looking at him with obvious amusement written all over his face.
“I mean, look at him! The hair, the eyes, the scrappy build. If you put him in one of those traffic light vigilante costumes, he could easily pass as a Robin!”
“I’m not doing this with you today, Eddie.”
“Riddle me this, Jon: I am a treasure hidden inside of a chest. You can break me, or steal me, or give me a rest. I can flutter, or pound, or attack, or drop, but if you don’t have me, you’re certainly fucked. What am I?”
Jonathan pauses for a moment before he groans, dropping his head into his hands.
“Eddie.”
Danny sits still, a confused look on his face as he repeats the riddle silently. Then, his face lights up in delight.
“A heart!”
“Jon, I like this one,” Edward says with a smile, ruffling Danny’s hair, “you are correct! A heart, something that I wasn’t aware that our dear Jonathan had!”
“Eddie, stop.”
“No, no,” Edward says, “I was worried about you, you deserve this. I mean, you even missed girls night! You never miss girls night!”
“Girls night?” Danny asks, absolutely delighted.
“Oh, of course,” Edward says, sprawling over on the couch, dangerously close to just laying in Jonathan’s lap, “we have it once a week. I’m invited because of Selina and Jon’s invited because Harley likes him.”
“And what does girls night entail, exactly?”
“Eddie,” Jonathan groans, “please.”
“Well,” Edward hums, “we usually paint our nails, or watch a movie, or gossip about the other rogues, and occasionally, we tell each other about any ‘encounters’ we have with Batman,” he says, raising his eyebrows up and down.
Danny’s jaw drops.
“Edward, shut up,” Jonathan says, an irritated tone in his voice that wasn’t there before.
“No way,” Danny says, “I thought that Batman, like, hated you guys or something. You mean he actually..?”
“Oh, the Bat is much like a bottle of liquor or a cheap cigarette, in that he was made to be passed around.”
Danny chokes on air.
“Edward Nygma,” Jonathan hisses, getting out of his seat and looming over the man, “get the hell out.”
Edward pales.
“Leaving, leaving!” Edward says, dashing away from Jonathan. He pauses, turning to flash Danny a quick smile.
“Remember Danny, I’m your favorite uncle! Not any of the other rogues, me!”
With that, he leaves, the room falling completely silent.
And, as per usual, that silence does not last.
“You full-named him?” Danny asks gleefully, “and it worked?”
Jonathan just sighs, sitting down on the couch and rubbing at his temples.
“Please, don’t take anything Eddie says seriously. He’s a moron.”
“Dr. Crane, please let me come to girls night with you,” Danny pleads, his eyes sparkling, “I promise I won’t embarrass you.”
Jonathan groans.
“Of course you won’t, Eddie will do it for you.”
“Come on, please?”
“I think we’re a bit busy with the GiW at the moment,” Jonathan snaps. He pauses as he notices the crestfallen expression on Danny’s face.
This boy is going to be the death of him.
“Perhaps, though, when all that is taken care of…”
Danny cheers, grinning wildly, and Jonathan is not at all relieved to see him happy again. Certainly not.
The rest of the day is relatively normal.
Danny works on trying to get information from the GiW database while Crane refines his his fear toxin, both preparing for a raid on the GiW base they located in Gotham.
It was only a temporary base, nothing of note, but there was a chance of discovering more bases through it, and that wasn’t something either of them were willing to give up.
Still, something like this would take time. Rushing would only lead to failure.
Late in the night, long after Danny is fast asleep in his room, Jonathan pauses.
The GiW are not the only threat out there. They aren’t the only threat to him or to Danny. Perhaps it could be helpful to reach out to someone with greater resources than himself.
He sends a quick message to Red Hood.
Hopefully, he thinks, everything will go smoothly.
1K notes · View notes
bluegekk0 · 6 months
Text
Tumblr media
// The Cycle //
(au details below)
After his banishment from The Gods' Plane, Grimm is too weak to sustain his physical form indefinitely. As a result, his physical body is stuck in an endless cycle of death and rebirth, as its lifespan is limited and its powers are limited
The Nightmare King, and his physical body, Troupe Master Grimm, are the same being separated by the barrier between the physica world and his nightmare realm. They exist simultaneously, they share thoughts, memories and personality traits, although their physical appearance differs - the physical body is smaller, its body lacks the extensive fluff, and is more organic in nature. Within the nightmare realm and with the Nightmare Heart's power, Grimm has full control over the body's physical and physiological aspects, and so its appearance may change following each ritual if he so desires. However, each body withers away over time, and thus it must be replaced periodically. Unfortunately, with the Heart's limited power, the vessel must spawn in a reduced form and grow with the help of his troupe (or any volunteer). Collecting nightmare flame speeds up the process, as does the presence of the previous body, which then gets consumed by flame and replaced by the new vessel
---
Stage I ("Grimmspawn") - the vessel that spawns from the nightmare flame. It is small in size, but capable of flight. Its legs and arms are underdeveloped, and its body is covered in fluff. Its eyes are closed, and the head is similar in shape to a teardrop, as the horns are not separated in this stage
Stage II ("Grimmchild") - having absorbed nightmare flame, the vessel grows in size and its limbs develop. The headshape resembles that of the final form, although its body is noticeably more serpentine in shape, and its fluff covering is more sparse. Consuming more flame allows it to continue growing until it reaches its final stage
Stage III ("Troupe Master") - after the previous vessel is consumed by flame, another takes its place. This form is most commonly known as the Troupe Master Grimm, or simply just Grimm. Despite its status as a vessel, it stands equal with the Nightmare King - it is with this body that Grimm is able to interact with the physical world, and so this stage lasts the longest, up to a few months
However, in this form, Grimm requires blood in order to sustain his physiological functions for a longer period of time, as his heart and circulatory system are weak. Similarly, he rarely uses the full extent of his powers, as doing so weakens him and forces him to rest in order to regain his strength. Although he lacks the long tail and the wings of his previous stages, his cloak can move around and warp into different shapes, most commonly into tendrils and spikes
Despite his weak heart, Grimm's body functions as you'd expect - he is capable of consuming and digesting food, and even reproduction (though the body is usually designed to be infertile, as a preventive measure). Interestingly, he is unable to cry, likely due to the unnatural aspect of his eyes
Stage IV - if the ritual is delayed for whatever reason, Grimm's body starts showing noticeable signs of decay. He becomes physically weak, he gradually loses his voice, and he starts shedding fur from his limbs. The flame rages from within his body, and smoke escapes through his wounds. His eyes lose their scarlet color and start leaking, making him appear as if he's weeping. The body eventually burns down, and if this occurs outside of a ritual, the next vessel is unable to consume its flame, meaning it takes a much longer time to grow. Grimm rarely allows himself to reach this stage, preferring to replace the body while it is still in a functioning state, as it makes the entire process much smoother
1K notes · View notes
sluttyhenley · 15 days
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Callum Turner as John "Bucky" Egan
MASTERS OF THE AIR (2024) Part Five
507 notes · View notes
redbelles · 13 days
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
I don't even feel it.
MASTERS OF THE AIR Callum Turner as Maj. John "Bucky" Egan
493 notes · View notes
romantichopelessly · 3 months
Text
Another thing I love about The Raven Cycle is that it’s an entire four book series about fate and prophecy and escaping the narrative, but if you pay close attention you can see that the entire time, miniature prophecies are coming to fruition throughout the entire series. Niall Lynch tells his middle son that the day he was born, it rained blood, and Aurora told him ravens laughed. On the day Gwenllian is raised from her tomb, both occur. At the beginning of the second book, Gansey mentions that Glendower had magicians with him that could change the weather and tell the future. By the end, Gansey has both (Ronan, with his miniature suns and Adam, his psychic). Gansey approaches Ronan in the church in the first book, and is sure that his voice wakes Ronan from death. And then in the third, his voice has exactly that power.
873 notes · View notes
cupcakeslushie · 1 year
Text
Tumblr media
This is so them
3K notes · View notes
Book names + authors under the cut
Wei Wuxian/Lan Wangji- Mo Dao Zu Shi/Grand Master of Demonic Cultivation by Mo Xiang Tong Xiu
Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard- All For The Game by Nora Sakavic
2K notes · View notes
98chao · 1 year
Text
Tumblr media
great hearing you got there mr six eared macaque
4K notes · View notes