#body plan that makes no sense

[chimeride]

[triglycercule]

nightmare viewing the murder time three as little toys but more in like a little spoiled kid kinda way. because it would be funny and if you take into the account that he was like 6 before getting corrupted and do some mental loopholes it would be even funnier. like these are his dolls (killer dust and horror) and this is their barbie dreamhouse (his castle). they all have to stay in one room because nightmare needs to keep his toys in a toy box. the toys only ever come out when he wants to play but oh damn it they keep on breaking out!! silly toys,,, and then he locks them into the room again.

nightmare serves them food with plastic tea cups and plastic plates and there is no food. there is no tea. they have to imagine the food because dolls can't literally eat. there are food containers and stuff in the house but its all just a bunch of empty boxes. horror starts tweaking out after he scavenges the kitchen and finds a cereal box and milk carton that have NOTHING in it (why keep empty boxes?????)

they have to go where he wants them to go. nightmare gets to dress them up in whatever he wants because theyre his dolls they can wear anything he wants. it gets incredibly embarrassing when the trio is forced to wear pink pretty dresses and fight like that. or they have to go around the castle doing stupid fucking roleplays and it gets weird because theyre being forced to reenact a bullying scene and nightmare's giving them the death stare if they don't get it right (is this projection. this must be some form of coping mechanism dust theorizes)

and then you know nightmare's not exactly the best toy owner so he loses a few of his dolls here and there. maybe they get destroyed when he was playing a bit too rough with them! (killer dies in battle for like the 29th time) but its okay because he can just go back on down to the store (something new) and buy. wait no. steal another doll and then put it back in his dreamhouse and BOOM he has a full set again!! so sweet so cute. his dolls don't have consciousness what are you talking about theyre begging to be let go?? that's all just your imagination. what do you mean you're asking about the several slowly dying bodies with removed arms or legs in his dungeon. oh that's just where the broken but not yet destroyed toys go dw theyre fine its humane

[canonkiller]

do you consider your self made?

[jasontoddenthusiastt]

Batman Annual #25

Before Talia took him in, before he was dunked in the pit to have his memories restored, even when operating purely on survival instinct, he always split a meal with the other homeless people. It may not have been essential to his survival, but caring about and helping other people when he couldn’t even help himself was just always such an intrinsic part of Jason’s core.

[b4kuch1n]

crumbs in your bed

transcript

[artsandstoriesandstuff]

@esteebarnes94 it’s Missus! The Missus? lol.

Anyway, I made a sketch thing for her! I have a feeling this may end up the primary way I draw the robot detectives… or any mini art projects or requests, for that matter.

I don’t know if I characterized her right but I imagine her as a calm but anxiety prone lady. I also have a hunch she’d be just a little scared of Enid.

Speaking of Enid, and given Enid’s personality, she probably bought some accessories for Missus. Including that silly looking hat on the right side.

Like I said, I’m really happy that you developed her backstory (it’s actually making ME think more about the factory), but I hope I did her personality justice too! :)

[artanogon]

thinking more about being trans

[blujayonthewing]

SUPREMELY frustrating that we found something actually really cool and intriguing and plot relevant in tonight's session but I'm still so constantly preoccupied with whether the DM is going to 100% kill us with sheer poor game design that I barely have enough brainspace left over to even enjoy it

[astralprisms]

Was wondering why this particular gith face always feels like it suits baldness best and then I realized it IS in fact Orpheus' face model, Orph just has different unique ears.

Anyway welcome back, dreadwolf.

[j4kfell]

The stars burned with the holiness of God

Process (+ reference) under the cut

[suusoh]

you guys have to hear me out. Like the version I have of anna liebert is too much. She exists in just my mind for now. That being said she spits in your mouth and will be heavily disappointed if you don't spit in hers too. Has the audacity to pout if you don't.

[carsickcrow]

death at the movies by car seat headrest is one of the songs ever to me.

[lexa-griffins]

Oh God someone stop me from creating a full backstory for a amnesia au that popped up into my head!!!!😩

[chirpsythismorning]

No but even if the Byers had a guest room in California, they still had two guests that evening spending the night…

MURRAY AND MIKE ONE ON ONE CONTENT AND WE MISSED IT?!?!

[bluepallilworld]

I almost thought about typing "can a skeleton catch a cold" in my research bar

[dickytwister]

WIP DAY

tagged by: @nuclearstorms tagging: @stars-of-the-heart @perseus-veil @stacispratt @paralytic-states @shellibisshe @strafethesesinners @judasofsuburbia @hopecountyisforlovers @wewillryesagain and whoever wants to do it!!! in an unprecedented turn of event, i will finally post a wip on wip day,,,,,,, i have fallen deep inside the psych rabbit hole and i am now writing shassie fics so this is what you're getting god bless and amen 🙏🏼🙏🏼 i'll try to post oc writing next time i'm posting a wip teehee!!! and thanks for tagging me bones mwah mwah and mwah

It all happened incredibly fast, and yet Lassiter could still see the last ten minutes play out behind his eyelids like detached scenes from a movie.

Shawn had called him at an ungodly hour of the night, rambling like a madman about a psychic vision so strong it had woken him up—Lassiter highly doubted that, just as he did the mere fact of Shawn being a psychic in the first place. He’d given him a location and had nearly begged him to come as fast as possible.

The Riviera Parlour was the kind of high-end restaurant that Lassiter had only ever dreamt of setting foot into. With a waiting list the length of his arm and a menu that averaged his bi-weekly salary, dining there had simply been out of the question. He’d only considered the idea once, a few months after his separation, hoping that Victoria would have seen in this gesture just how devoted he could be, if given another chance.

Shawn, with his green Henley shirt unbuttoned at the neck and pale blue jeans, had seemed out of place in front of the gold ornaments that decorated the facade of the restaurant. What’s more, the torrential rain had soaked him from head to toe, his hair matted to his forehead and clothes sticking to his body like a second skin. He’d looked all the part of a mutt left to sleep in the doghouse, and Lassiter had had half a mind to scold him for taking his bike in such weather. He’d instead held his tongue, had stared expectantly at the other man with a pinched grimace.

The door had been unlocked—Lassiter had glanced at Shawn with a raised eyebrow only for the latter to shrug and squeeze past him into the restaurant. The glow of their flashlights had casted eery shadows on the walls as they’d wandered, Lassiter forcing Shawn to stay behind him even as the faux-psychic had held his fingers to his temples and guided him deeper into the restaurant and into the kitchen.

He’d ‘divined’ that the evidence they’d needed to tie their suspect to the murders was in the walk-in freezer. How he’d come to that conclusion, Lassiter had no idea, and he hadn’t bothered to ask. Cautiously, gun held tightly in his fist, Lassiter had pushed the freezer’s door open and walked in. Shawn had stayed behind to hold the door, peaking curiously with his head tilted sideways, eyes darting across the room with barely concealed interest.

And then, just as Lassiter had been about to complain about the flagrant lack of evidence, Shawn had yelped and stumbled forward, holding the back of his head with one hand as the door had banged shut.

A deafening silence had hovered over the room for two, three full seconds before Lassiter had launched himself at the door. He’d pulled and pushed at the handle, banged his fist on the cold metal and the thick glass of the window, yelled himself raw, to no avail; the door had remained firmly shut, and their suspect had fled, taking with him their only chance of getting out anytime soon.

Leaning against the door with two fingers pinched against the bridge of his nose, Lassiter forced himself to remain calm, even as Shawn’s rambling, which had been going on since Lassiter’s attempts to open the door had failed, went on and on with no sign of stopping.

“Think anyone’ll get mad if I eat some of these frozen raviolis? I didn’t eat before I left and I’m getting a tummy ache, which is seriously messing with my psychic abilities–”

“If you’re not going to help me find a way out of here, kindly shut the hell up,” Lassiter snapped, glaring intently at Shawn as the latter examined the contents of the shelves. There was no mistaking the tremor in his shoulders, previously soaked clothes now frozen solid on his body.

“Don’t worry, I already have a plan,” Shawn assured confidently, though that didn’t mean much when his voice trembled with every word he spoke. “We turn into icicles and, in ten years, they bring us back to life Michael Beck style.”

“Can you be serious for one second? It’s your fault we’re in this mess.” Then, with a frustrated huff, “And who the hell is ‘they’?”

Shawn shrugged with a vague wave of his hand, and Lassiter had to physically stop himself from reaching for his gun.

“Did you tell anyone else about your hunch?”

“You mean my vision.”

“No, I mean your hunch. Answer the goddamn question, Spencer.”