John Constantine in crossover comics: Badass cocky occult magician who about to trick God and the Devil.
John Constantine in his own comics: Weeping in the corner, trying to roll a magic blunt. (Just got back from tricking God and the Devil)
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BUTT-ASS NAKED, CLARK!??!
IN THE MIDDLE OF COLORADO!?!?!
Wait--hold on I just thought of something--
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YES THIS ONE EXACTLY THANK YOU
Batman tumblr help me out. Where’s that fucking Red Robin(?) panel where Tim is like “ah yes. A list. This will solve my problems” and the list is just the most generic unhelpful shit ever
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Batman tumblr help me out. Where’s that fucking Red Robin(?) panel where Tim is like “ah yes. A list. This will solve my problems” and the list is just the most generic unhelpful shit ever
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Speed Racer AU
(Eventual spoilers for a movie from 2008 ig)
I bring a treat, a concept I mentioned a while back as a sort of shitpost that now won't leave my brain during finals week of all things, so here. Meet the Rex Racer counterpart Dick Grayson!
(A program note: while Tim doesn't own the concept of a Robin-themed car, he does own the Redbird. However, for the sake of this AU, you're not gonna catch Dick driving the damn Robinmobile lmao. Thus, the Redbird here was originally Dick's car)
Stay tuned for a Racer X Dick Grayson and a Speed Racer Tim!
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We all love the "becoming the very thing you sought to destroy," trope. but I have a growing fondness for "destroying the very thing you sought to become"
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Guys stop reblogging my old funny batfam posts it’s embarrassing and not in character PLEASE
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This is retaliation basically.
Stopping for tonight, I'll cease flooding people's dashes lol.
@dickgraysonweek is over and done with, but here's some more DILF Dick Grayson with MAWS Slade Wilson, because you hoes absolutely ate up the last one.
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In universe, Dick Grayson's equivalent of Bruce dropping out of med school is absolutely everyone demanding to know why he didn't go to the Olympics with his gymnastics abilities.
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“Sometimes,” Dick says, quiet and soft and raw, “I wish you were a monster.” He’s on his knees on the cold, cement floor, staring at rows and rows of filthy cages. Empty cages. “It would be easier to hate you.”
The man standing behind him says nothing. Does nothing. Just continues to exist, right under Dick’s guard, right at his unprotected back.
“It’s easier,” Dick murmurs, and if he closes his eyes, he can remember what the cages looked like when they’d been full of children, “If bad guys don’t do good things, and good guys don’t do bad things.”
He expects the man to laugh. He expects the man to call him naive, stupid, a child. A fool, for wading through the worst of what the world has to offer, and still clinging to fantasy ideals.
“Good and bad are relative,” he says instead. “One man’s evil is another man’s saint.” His tone is level. Almost nice.
Dick doesn’t think that’s an adjective that’s ever been applied to Slade Wilson before.
“This?” Dick sweeps a hand out at the aftereffects of torture and abuse and violence. “This is despicable.”
“By your standards,” Slade qualifies. “By mine,” he adds after a pause. Not by everyone’s, hangs in the air.
Dick knows that. Dick has proof of that, proof that there are people in this world that consider the torture and enslavement of children as nothing more than a profit in their pocket, and he doesn’t want to think about how they live with themselves. Doesn’t want to try to understand their motives.
Or the mercenary’s, right behind him.
It started off simply enough—Nightwing’s eyes going wide in the rafters when he met Deathstroke, because Slade didn’t have many lines but Dick sure thought that child trafficking was one of them. Deathstroke clarifying, after pinning a struggling Nightwing to the wall, that he was here on behalf of one of the children’s mother, who’d paid an exorbitant amount of money for Deathstroke to find and bring back her baby.
Ulterior motive established, grudging alliance hammered out, that should’ve been the end of it.
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