[𝐦]ama's boy,

in sculpture exercised his happy skill.

[meszaros]

• 𖥻 [m]észáros : hungarian, noun. ᴹᴱᴬᴺᴵᴺᴳ ¹ butcher. — bee's lazlo valentin from detective comics ... private portrayal, heavily rewritten from canon ⅋. based in post - crisis continuity ; please read information before following. established november 2023, revamped october 2025. (s)low activity.

| ¹ CARRD. ² METAS + ADDL INFO. ³ PINBOARD. ⁴ PLAYLIST.

[meszaros]

i didn't forget this blog i just had a serious of Situations strike. soon.

[ciircumserpent]

Hey, I'm opening emergency commissions so I can afford to eat, lol. I'll do two-panel promos for £5 static/£8 gif. Shoot me a DM if interested. If not, consider reblogging.

* note that i will not use other artists' bases or templates for paid work.

[ciircumserpent]

Heyyy so the situation has worsened tucks hair behind ear. Are you sure you don't want a tasty promo so cheap.

[meszaros]

one must imagine me standing haggardly in a doorway raptor hands pose looking like a ghoul

[isjomfrue-archive]

NO LONGER WILL I BETRAY MY WORLD AND FRIENDS! FROM THIS MOMENT ON, WE STAND AS ONE, WITH ONE GOAL. WHEN AN EVIL LIKE YOUR'S THREATENS THE LIVES OF PEOPLE EVERYWHERE, THERE COMES A TIME FOR ACTION. THERE COMES A TIME... FOR JUSTICE!

[meszaros]

imagine if i actually wrote a character would could even use wire for once in my life. imagine if that was a possibility

[meszaros]

oh the ui update, . oh it sure is.

[meszaros]

oh christ it's still there

[largishcat]

this Thanksgiving consider donating to Indigenous Women Rising a native run org that helps native/indigenous women in the US access abortion and reproductive care

[catchameme]

Send a word and "+ HC" and I will write a headcanon for my muse based on the word(s) sent!

[meszaros]

͙ 𖥻﹚ ... starring @arkahmknight .ᐟ : WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT ? ˊ-

glass crunched under his boots, the brittle sound of its crack, crack, cracking muffled by thick rubber and a stride that was casual in pace : slow, languid. the warehouse floor glittered with shards, scattered among the filth and refuse like stars in a murky brown sky, winking with the reflection of a dim bulb's sickly yellow glow. it's a flickering thing held aloft only by a frayed cord, gently swaying in the aftermath of a commotion already brushed aside to gather dust in the corners of his mind — valentin loved a grand entrance as much as anyone, but everybody wanted their big - ticket moment these days, their own stain on the blood - red carpet. when held up to the chaotic symphony of gotham's night - life, a broken window was mere white noise, as ordinary as the bulb's electrical buzzing. “ language. ” came admonishment with a tone carefully constructed in its evenness. the butcher dropped to a crouch, a knee planted on the scuzzy cement, aloof and absentminded as he reached for a comparatively large sliver. shining and sharp in that bile - colored light, with the teasing potential to slice as he ran a thumb over it's jagged edge.

he was idle, half - interested, as if his uninvited guest's presence did not come with the promise of violence already. the thought of a gun's muzzle pressed up against the base of the skull was blurry, as inconsequential as the glass turned over between his fingers. at least the red hood had good taste in color. “ i believe i was quite clear, my dear boy. the curtain is drawn, the abattoir sleeps. you're a bit early. ” though he does think, a little distantly, that a bullet missing its mark and finding its home embedded in torn muscle would be more trouble than it's worth. ah well, whatever happens, happens. “ really, do you kiss your mother with that mouth ? ”

[meszaros]

need to talk about the ways in which lazlo is just an honest to god cunt more sometimes

[meszaros]

he thinks he knows what other people need better than they do he's pretentious he's condescending he has a hair trigger temper and the only thing holding it back is the fact that he's got an absolute stranglehold of a filter that turns every knee-jerk impulse to call someone a Fucking Idiot into some overly saccharine faux-friendly drivel. he's annoyinggg

[vnlucura]

hey! so I’m actually on the meat hook right now but

[meszaros]

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˗ˋ #🎙 *HEADCANON(02) ... ↷ [v]oiceclaim : the above audio is from michael cerveris' role as pyg in gotham TV, a show i have voiced my numerous problems with many times in the past and most definitely will continue to do so in the future, but i would be lying if i said this wasn't an all - time casting choice for me. everything down to the pitch, cadence, manner of speech / word choice, it all just feels so right to me ; in my opinion pyg was one of the rare highlights in this show just for his characterization alone, even if i find the plot itself to be not all that great. i just wanted to use this post as a little excuse to make something nice compiling some of his dialogue from a handful of episodes. [ +. ] additionally, the audio below is a compilation of lines from other TV series cerveris has been in. while it's never reached it's full potential in the comics themselves, even pyg's earliest appearance in morrison's run plays with this concept of performance and the different ways people put up masks ; i think that gotham, for all its flaws, had some pretty bright thinking going on when it came to not only going back to this theme but bringing it to a more theatrical context as well. because of this i've played with the idea of pyg, the costumed " character, " and lazlo valentin, the man behind the mask, having different inflections and ways of speaking. it just so happens cerveris' usual tone of voice lines up with that vision pretty well ! so yeah, this is just a lot of words to explain what valentin sounds like to me. his limited voiced appearances in other media aren't bad, i think gotham has just had the best / most impactful so far.

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[thingsfromthedirt]

[wardschumaker]

pgs 44-45  5-and-Dime Deluxe is a hand-painted book, created in 2004 by Ward Schumaker,13” x 19” page size, 64 pages + cover, bound by John Demerritt.

[meszaros]

as we all know i have a lot of thoughts and feelings about the "edgier," more gritty, more nasty batrogues that cropped up along the way in modern comics, some good and some bad, but i think what i always come back to with them the most is how often i'm disappointed by the way people talk about them in relation to batman himself. specifically, i find the way people talk about them when it comes to the no - kill rule to be a real bummer. like, it's always "this character should be the exception" and that's so boringgg to me. defaulting to where a line in the sand should be drawn is not only an empty gesture, as we all know editorial won't really kill those characters off, but i also just think it's a very uninteresting way to engage with that moral code. why must there be an objective exception when letting focus linger on the characters and the uneasy tension between those with differing views has so much more to chew on. or at least i think it does. i don't really know how to end this, i just get very little out of stories where characters always do the "right" thing or what's expected of them, it's much more engaging to interrogate what it means when horrible people who bring about so much suffering like lazlo are spared, or any other modern rogue who just falls into your stock serial killer archetype for that matter. that's not even mentioning how due to the presence of arkham, the GCPD, and general themes of crime and punishment in batman you really can't have this discussion without death penalty discourse. i don't know. don't spoon - feed me morals i want everyone to be grappling with shit.

[crimenight]

as pyg draws closer, bruce stares at the grotesque details of his mask. the pig’s rubbery flesh gleams faintly, catching the light cast by the flickering lights. it shines like it were half-alive, its exaggerated snout and hollow sockets molded to the human face beneath it. the stench of blood hangs heavy in the air like it's been soaking into the walls and rafters for decades. what is it about gotham that attracts the darkest of people? what is it about the batman that makes him think he can save them all?

“the bride is the mayor's niece. a beautiful girl.” he watches pyg pry the knife from the wall behind him, awfully aware of the sharp edge that twirls so close to him. his gaze flickers briefly, scanning the edges of the room, before snapping back to him. the cape pools over his shoulders and covers his hand that comes to rest on his belt, all in preparation of another attack. “it would be a shame if you were telling the truth and someone else got to them first. you could be losing your touch.”

[meszaros]

“ oh ? ” his voice comes as a low, stiff drawl. skepticism wells up fast, seeping in faster than he can staunch it and bleeding on the brink of a hemorrhage into his tone. thick enough to drown it's carefully practiced lilt. spine straightens up, shoulders leaning back, the faint glimmer of those eyes deep in the boar's sockets flicker about like hungry gnats ; too fast to settle on any one thing, skimming over the brick and cement as if searching for some unseen cue just out of his peripherals — “ oh. ” and just like that, as if it never happened, his wandering gaze rolls back to the bat with airy, breathless laughter. punched up from the ribs and wrung out from the throat, scripted, or perhaps just noise for the sake of it. he loathed dead air, the silence before a curtain call's ontological opposite, the kind that filled his guts with leaden unease. “ cle - ver ! but please, my nightly friend, you'll have to try a little harder than that. ” it's a quick recovery, a tumble turned into a twirl. bruised egos spoil as quickly as bruised meat, twice as foul to boot. to let his pride be reduced to a carcass on the pile would be a waste of opportunity, and what a rare one this is !

his arms drop, pliant and easy, the carving knife nothing more than a dangerous, silvery gleam in the dark. [ pointed down too, a white flag draped over it's threat of a clean slice ? ] another short burst of a laugh bubbling up follows the motion, someone has to lighten the mood after all. “ really, i'm not that dumb. ” and yet, he dances around the matter at hand, as if it were as inconsequential as the days - old stain you throw a good rug over, but too pointed for that stain to be spilled blood. at least, not blood he's spilled.