#I’m a motherfucker

[glitchedcosmos]

The amount of times I relate to blitzø on so many levels per an episode is probably concerning and something I should definitely rethink who i am as a human being but ha ha pretty pink pop star go brrr

[yourheartinyourmouth]

ke$ha was so right when she said “don’t buy me a drink, i make my money, don’t touch my weed, don’t call me honey”

[mariusroyale]

magma doobles w friends

[faint-taste-of-almonds]

I like the idea of there being something a little sharper about Zaunites.

Jayce often turns around to find Viktor much closer than he had thought, even being able to hear the tapping of his cane. During late nights in the lab, his amber eyes burn violently in the blue glow of the hexgems. On the rare occasion he blinks, Jayce can swear they appear reflective, like a cat’s. Just tricks of the light and the mind.

Mel’s skin rises the first time Jayce brings Viktor to a Council meeting. They’ve met before, of course, but there’s something immovable in his grip when she shakes his hand, touching him for the first time. Viktor smiles ingenuinely, almost mockingly, at something Salo says, and his teeth are a tad sharp. Mel has grown up around war, around danger, but it had always come for her head on. In Piltover, it came in the form of ruining reputations or profits. She wonders how thoroughly Viktor could ruin someone before they even realized he was there. She dreams of wolves and foxes that night, and from a tree, the ember-bright eyes of a lynx watches, waiting for the other predators to tear each other apart.

Vi likes to climb. Caitlyn knows this, though she supposes she didn’t really think about it. It’s almost beautiful to watch, really — the agile switches, the power thrumming beneath Vi’s skin like she might burst from it. Vi maneuvers through the rooftops of Zaun as easily as breathing. Sometimes, Caitlyn’s own breath will catch when the jump looks too far, too much, then Vi’s hand will catch the ledge without fail and she can huff a laugh. She ignores how many distances Vi has crossed that shouldn’t be crossable. Like a cat, a Zaunite will always land on their feet.

Ekko seems to move quite strangely, Heimerdinger thinks. Though, he’s never truly paid close attention to human movements, the boy seems to traverse without the normal effect of gravity, as if he simply never dismounted his hoverboard. It was far too smooth, far too even — it took a considerable time for Heimerdinger to put his finger on it. As they discover the sickness of the tree, the pattern changes. Ekko glitches sometimes, staying in one place for too long before seemingly being sling-shot through space, appearing somewhere else without having gotten there. A mystery for later, he supposes.

Silco feels like a condensation of all Zaun’s noxious gases, perhaps with a vein of Shimmer added for realism. Marcus feels like his lungs are clouding just from being around him, getting the urge to cough out the pollution. Silco is the grimy cracks, the perpetually-wet streets, the sunken ribs and track marks of every body slumped on every street. His voice curls around Marcus like a snake, squeezing tighter and tighter until the fear and the threats are the only things left in his brain. Yet, Silco sits calmly, always far too still. Sometimes his scar appears to splinter in front of Marcus’s eyes. When he tucks his daughter in a night, he wonders about what kind of monster might slip, unheard, through the cracks of her window.

There’s always been Something in the air in Zaun. The water too. Really, can one be surprised at the consequences?

[s1lly-stra3berry]

this campaign turned me into a furry

[redhotarsenic]

@nowfallc Pictures pictures for youuuu sliding these under your door <3

[gay-little-izzet]

Prepare for trouble…

and make it double!!!!

I actually drew most of this a few days ago, but I had to finish it now that we know what Loot looks like.

[ofbatsandballads]

pretty little birds

jason todd x fem!reader

word count: 2.2k

warnings: suggestive content, reader works at the Iceberg Lounge as a server/dancer/informant for Oz, slight objectification from Oz, reader described as having long hair but no other physical descriptions, slight implication of potential SA (nothing happens, just concern over it)

a/n: been thinking of Jason with a girl who works at the Iceberg Lounge ever since I watched The Batman and saw Selina’s gorgeous self working there. something about her and Bruce’s dynamic was very alluring and I realized how much better it would work with Jason so this was born. might make this a series, might not; who knows? not me! also if you want a nice visual aid for the club, I fully based it off the Gotham Knights version of the lounge.

divider credit: strangergraphics

Jason wasn’t a fan of the Iceberg Lounge. He’d been there plenty of times for missions, for reconnaissance, to beat the shit out of Oswald—it didn’t mean he liked it there. The club was ostentatious, loud and vulgar like everything that went on within it. He always scoffed when he saw it during patrol. An actual iceberg exterior; how corny could Cobblepot get?

He did have to admit that it was nicer inside. The marble floors, balconies, and columns lended an elegance to the place that it didn’t deserve. The neon blues and pinks of the lighting served to disorient, to intoxicate alongside the drinks that were served across the bar and the drugs that were passed behind it. The massive penguin ice sculpture in the center was tacky though. Jason could think of a million better design choices than that.

All this to say that he wasn’t thrilled to be sent to the club per Bruce’s orders of seeing if Oz was still as legit as he claimed. He wasn’t. They all knew it but B needed proof. Jason’s sure by proof Bruce meant that he wanted him to go undercover, but one of the advantages of being Red Hood is that he can go where the other Bats can’t. That distinction is how he finds himself stalking the club from his vantage point in the shadows.

It’s busy tonight. The main floor is crowded with people. Bodies push and pull to the rhythm of the music that blares from the speakers. As tightly crammed as the floor is, the servers still manage to weave through with a practiced grace. They’re all in various states of undress; short skirts, crop tops, some in straight up underwear. Jason recognizes the servers for what Cobblepot intends them to be: a distraction. They’re all young and beautiful—pretty girls and boys that are meant to draw your eye so you don’t see the money and the drugs that pass between their hands.

Jason zeroes in on the two working the floor for any indication of something illegal. Oswald’s been smarter since his last stint in Blackgate. He lets the filth of the city do their deals in his club while he himself is never caught up in it. The argument of “well I didn’t do it” usually wouldn’t hold up legally, but this is Gotham. His eyes track the man first. He’s weaving in and out, laughing with what must be the regulars. He’s charming them, plying them with more and more alcohol to stay longer, to spend more money. He’s not doing anything more than that, though, to Jason’s utmost disappointment. He turns his attention to the girl instead.

The difference between the two of you is so obvious it’s almost amusing. While the guy weaved fluidly through the throng of people like something unseen, the crowd itself seems to part for you. Recognition, some degree of respect, power—that’s what you’ve got over the drunken group of people. He immediately knows that his best bet will be with you. Everything about you echoes the pull you must have in the club. The way you walk, how you smile at the regulars, the drifting of your hands across shoulders and backs and jawlines. It’s even clear in the way you’re dressed. You look like something out of a cabaret show. Pink silk lingerie lined with black lace flowers, black fringe beads that form the idea of a skirt rather than an actual one, and those same beads hanging in alluring arcs across your arms, neck, and chest. You’re dressed up like Penguin’s favorite dream.

You’re also not doing anything illegal. Sure, he’s watched you take money from people, but all you bring back are drinks. He watches for over half an hour, eyes always trailing back to you. Nothing. It’s remarkable how much absolutely nothing he’s seen. His patience is wearing thin. It’s one in the morning and there are better things he could be doing, people he could be helping. But he can’t leave without something for Bruce. He tries to ignore the bile that rises in his throat when he thinks of why he still cares about disappointing him. His eyebrow twitches and he decides suddenly and definitively: fuck it.

So he kicks in Penguin’s office doors.

“Ah, Red Hood. If it ain’t Gotham’s least favorite vigilante,” Oswald mutters past the cigar in his mouth. “Shut the doors behind you, would ya?”

Jason kicks them shut. No one needs to see the bloody mess that Oswald’s going to be in about fifteen minutes.

“Ah ah ah. Before you get any ideas, I would advise you to consider how bad it would be for you to be caught assaulting a reformed citizen of this great city,” Oswald gloats, stubby finger pointing at the camera in the corner.

Fuck. Now Jason has to talk. He hates talking to Cobblepot. It gets you approximately nowhere fast.

“Reformed? We both know you’re full of shit, Oz,” Red Hood taunts.

“I’m on the straight and narrow. Scout’s honor,” Penguin laughs, coughing through the harsh inhale he took of his cigar.

Nowhere. Fast.

“You’re bringing in too much money for that to be true. Your parties aren’t that good, Cobblepot.”

“Eh, you haven’t seen my toys. Most of ‘em come for the pretty little things I keep around.”

“So you’re pimping them out? You see that I can work with,” Hood retorts.

It would make sense, Oz getting his servers into sex work. It’s not the worst thing he could do if they were all willing. And if they weren’t? Well, that gives Jason a nice excuse to finally put a bullet through The Penguin.

“You don’t listen too well, do you? I’m a changed man. People can look at my dolls, but they can’t touch. Everyone loves eye candy,” Oswald says.

The doors open just as Jason considers pulling a gun on Oswald, cameras recording him or not.

“And there’s my favorite. What do ya need, doll?”

Jason watches you saunter in. You move with an almost feline gracefulness. His eyes clock the sway of your hips and the way you toss your hair over your shoulder. Then he watches the way Cobblepot’s pupils dilate as his eyes lock on you. You plant your hands on the desk, bend over as you smile saccharine at the old man sitting behind it. Oh, you’re good. Very good.

“Nothing much. Just that DA wanting his usual,” you say.

Oswald’s eyes rake lecherously over your body. He looks at you like he wants to put you in one of the glass cases that decorate his office. It makes Jason’s stomach turn. Then he pulls a key out from a locked drawer and drops it into your open palm. Now that piques his interest.

“Thanks, Oz,” you say sweetly.

As you straighten up and spin around to leave, Penguin grabs your wrist and yanks you back. He leaves one kiss on the inside of your wrist and that pretty facade cracks. It’s only for a second, so quick that Oswald doesn’t see it. Jason does. Disgust. Pure disgust flashes across your face before it’s replaced by an alluring smile. Your eyes spark with something Jason can’t quite read.

“Mind if I get some too, Ozzie? You know how much I like it,” you ask as you play with the beads that dangle on your chest.

“Sure, doll. Take whatever you want,” Oswald acquiesces.

Your face lights up and you look almost victorious. Then you spin around and head towards the doors. To this point you haven’t acknowledged him, the known vigilante, at all. But just before you leave, you pause right next to him. Jason tries not to flinch as your hand runs up his arm.

“I hope you’ve enjoyed your night here. Next time, feel free to ask for anything you want. Wouldn’t want Oz’s guests to get bored,” you purr.

Your eyes lock with the white lenses of his domino mask and Jason feels the air leave his lungs. You’d seen him. You knew he was there the whole fucking time. And you hadn’t told anyone. If you had, Cobblepot would’ve sent security in guns blazing.

“Have a good night, honey,” you tell him as you waltz out the door.

“See, Hood? Eye candy,” Oz hacks.

Jason follows you. What else was he supposed to do? Oswald gave him nothing. But you? You gave him what felt suspiciously like a lead. Ask for anything you want, you’d said. What else could you think he wanted but proof of Oswald’s lingering corruption? So he follows you. He’s careful this time. Quiet, precise steps that give no indication he’s near. It’s times like these he’s grateful for all the stealth training Bruce made him do as a kid.

He trails behind as you head downstairs. You weave through the maze of corridors until you come to a mahogany door, elaborately carved with floral emblems. It’s got an old brass lock on it that you slot the key into. Jason waits one beat, two, three—then goes through the door where you disappeared.

He finds you inside, crouching in front of an open safe. A rainbow of jewels glitter within. Diamonds, rubies, emeralds—there had to be enough jewelry in there to cover the cost of a couple of Bruce’s tricked out sports cars. You pull a more modest sapphire necklace from the safe and place it into one of the grab bags that guests can take home at the end of the night. So that’s what the DA wanted. You grab a far more ostentatious diamond bracelet and slip it into your bra.

“Think it’s a good idea to steal from your boss?”

You jump. Jason doesn’t want to admit how satisfied he is by that. He was a little worried that he’d lost his touch. You twirl around, eyes locked on the vigilante leaning against the closed door.

“Hmm…when I’ve got him wrapped around my finger? Why not?” you smirk.

You’re brave. He’ll give you that.

“Must really be putting on a show for him if you’re not worried,” he presses.

Your smile drops and your eye twitches in annoyance. He’s hit a nerve. Good.

“A show. That’s all it is. If he’s stupid enough to think it’ll be more than that, that’s his problem,” you bite, tone dripping venom instead of honey.

“Not scared he’ll realize the trick? Or what he’ll do when he does?” Red Hood asks as he fiddles with a knife he keeps in his belt.

He asks with sincerity. It’s a dangerous game you’re playing. You could end up dead. Or worse. Jason’s no stranger to people taking what they want by force, and Oz clearly wants you.

“Oswald’s a coward,” you reply harshly. “He only fucks with people weaker than him. So no, I’m not scared of toying with him. He won’t do a goddamn thing to me.”

Jason cocks his head, sizing you up. A pretty girl in lingerie working in a club thinks she’s stronger than a crime lord. Well, you’re probably not wrong.

“You’re not weak?” he asks mockingly.

But it’s still fun to test your resolve. To your credit and Jason’s surprise, you just grin. A breathy laugh falls from your red lips and Jason can’t help the way his eyes flicker down to look at the curve of them.

“I got this without so much as a fight, didn’t I?” you gloat, grabbing the diamond bracelet and swinging it around your middle finger.

“He let you.”

“Precisely. What exactly are you missing here? He let me. Because he’s a fool. And to let me take this bracelet specifically? Well, he’s just about the village idiot,” you laugh.

Jason sees the bait. His stubbornness almost makes him want to not ask just to spite you. But it’s just too intriguing.

“What’s so special about that bracelet?”

You smile wryly. Jason’s reflexes are the only reason he catches the bracelet as you toss it to him from across the room.

“Oh, I think you’re smart enough to figure that one out yourself, baby,” you purr. “Now get the fuck out.”

Jason does as he’s told. He returns to the cave with no intel beyond a locked room with a safe full of jewels and a diamond bracelet. Imagine his shock when Bruce analyzes the serial markings of the bracelet and finds that it was part of a collection that got robbed from a boutique in the Diamond District. It had been months and they hadn’t found a single piece of jewelry from the robbery. There were no leads on who did it or how. And now one of the most expensive pieces is sitting on the Batcomputer. Jason can guess where the rest are.

“Who gave you this?” Bruce asks skeptically.

Always doubt with the old man.

“A friend. Maybe,” Jason ponders.

Bruce rolls his eyes and shakes his head. Jason grins at how exhausted all his kids make him. It’s a point of pride among them: who can stress out B the most?

“You should figure that out,” Bruce scolds.

“Yeah, I think I will.”

Jason’s suddenly got a very vested interest in the Iceberg Lounge, and he’s going to satiate that curiosity if it kills him again.

[fantasticgothicpeachsludge]

“he's like a brother to me”...”he's my best friend”....

[danandfuckingjonlmao]

edwin is a better, stronger man than i, because i would be infinitely more dramatic and petty in his position when crystal enters the scene and charles starts paying attention to her. i would have comic!edwin’s reaction at least (accusing charles of choosing girls over him, storming off to solve cases on his own and deciding to do shit that will get him into trouble so that charles has to come rescue him, etc) but i’d probably take it a step further. i’d be like “i guess you want me to go back to hell then since i’m basically nothing to you 😒” and then i’d legitimately go back to hell JUST to see if he came after me. if he didn’t come after me then an eternity of torture in hell is nothing compared to the pain of rejection and being replaced. but i’m also incredibly mentally ill, so.

(james acaster once told a story about a christmas where he asked his parents for a spice girls cd. he found out whilst at the pool with his family that his sister was getting the cd instead of him. naturally, he tried to drown himself in the pool to make his parents feel guilty. that’s my vibe if i were ever in edwin’s position.)

[housederiva]

[rainbowpopeworld]

Me when I’m trying to convince someone to watch Good Omens for the first time

[samkerrworshipper]

i’m sorry- wowowowowowow

[letthelampburn]

I’m just fucking (community service sorry) laughing at the thought of Lou hiding all this time, and how the rest of the gang was on it and supported it by not posting him, and then he just popped out on all platforms on premiere day 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

[lycandrophile]

“people who present hyperfemininely but repeatedly point out the fact that they’re men are transphobic” i just KNOW these people are incapable of being normal about feminine and non-passing trans men.

i feel like the venn diagram of “people who get upset at other people for looking too much like women while still openly identifying as men” and “people who called us trenders back in the day and now spend their free time shitting on trans men who use the women’s bathroom for safety or talk about how being raised as girls affects us or talk about experiencing misogyny or consider our attraction to women sapphic or call ourselves femboys or are multigender and also women or…” has to be a circle.

i could not care less about a twitch streamer i don’t watch or the discourse surrounding them, but i do start caring when i see the discourse descend into a bunch of trans people calling gender nonconformity transphobic and saying people who look like women aren’t allowed to assert their identity as men.

[sunfyrisms]

it’s the way people hate criston for calling rhaenyra a “cunt” once (not good, but this man’s situation was unique and he otherwise respects women from what we have seen), and simultaneously think daemon is a feminist (he repeatedly called rhea “a bronze bitch”, murdered her in cold blood, groomed his niece, choked his pregnant niece, and fucked her immediately after the death of his second wife). criston’s loyalty and dedication to alicent has been all but unwavering both seasons, and daemon has spent the entirety of season two plotting against his wife (aka wife number three, aka the niece he groomed), and it took him, what, eight episodes to stand by her again? people really hate criston just because he was hurt about being used and his position being put in jeopardy (he said no. it doesn’t matter if we know that rhaenyra would ever tell anyone that they’ve slept together, he doesn’t know that). he has been loyal to alicent, loyal to her children (does daemon even remember his daughters’ names), loyal to their cause, while daemon seized the opportunity for power the first chance he got like a hungry dog. truly pathetic.