#but yall get more at once

[indigopoptart]

you have been warned!

There’s a reason he’s not on the website.

⬇️ organ alt (and a mob juni one i (finally) finished recently!)

[starry-bi-sky]

Blood Blossom Au: Baby's First Commissioner Meeting :)

TL:DR This Post: Danny (orphan) gets poisoned with blood blossom extract by Vlad. He runs away from him and ends up under the care of one Pre-Robin Battinson Batman! Starry is loudly pushing her batdad agenda.

(Also known as "Late At Night, When The Nightingale Sings" on my ao3!)

This was a fun rough idea I've been sitting on for weeks, thinking about how Commissioner Gordon and Nightingale's first meeting might go.

---------------

Commissioner Gordon likes to think that he's adjusting to the new normal of Gotham very well, -- the new normal being grown men running around dressed like bats, in military-grade strength body armor, committing acts of vigilantism, -- and slowly, little by little, he was no longer being surprised when this new normal pops up out of the shadows like the world's most terrifying daisy. His shaving lifespan thanks him for it.

....

The kid is a surprise though.

Granted, he seemed to be a surprise to the Bat too.

There's been a string of murders lately, -- which, in Gotham, is kind of like saying there's been another storm during monsoon season. And there's just been another; in some dilapidated building down in south Gotham, with the broken, boarded-up windows and mildew-crawling walls to match. The victim is a man in his thirties, multiple gunshot wounds to the chest, left in the center of the room for the blood to pool out around him.

The place is already secured when he arrives, the building swarmed with officers and the forensic detectives. The Bat emerges shortly after he does -- or, he might've been here the whole time, hiding someplace dark and shadowy. For his own sanity, Gordon doesn't think about it too hard.

The kid is a surprise, and he appears like a bolt of lightning.

He shows up in the middle of a conversation Gordon is having with the Bat.

A whistle, sharp and loud, slicing through the air, meant for open air rather than a confined space. Gordon's ears pierce and protest the sound, and the solemn, murmured chatter floating through the room abruptly cuts off like the swing of a gavel. As he turns towards the sound -- as they all do -- he swears, up and down, that he sees Batman's shoulders jump, just slightly.

At the source, perched on the window, is a boy. A boy in a gray-blue scarf and an oversized black hoodie, one that hangs off his frame and has ace bandages wrapped around the wrists in some attempt to cinch the sleeves. The hood is up, big like the rest of it, and threatens to swallow the upper half of the boy's face whole in the fabric. What upper half Gordon can see, is smeared with some kind of opaque, black face paint. He's holding onto the side of the frame with one hand, on his hip is a grappling hook. A familiar grappling hook.

Gordon has multiple questions, and his officers tense up.

Martinez puffs up, brows furrowing as his face shapes into a frown. Shoulders rolling back. "You can't be here, kid--"

The reaction is immediate, like a spark to gunpowder, the boy yanks his fingers from his mouth and his mouth twists into a scowl. Head snapping over to Officer Martinez, his hood manages to stay on but Gordon swears that as he bares his teeth, the glint makes them look sharper than they should be. His voice is rasp and quiet and harsh; snappish in its hissing; "Put a fuckin sock in it, Martinez. I'm not stayin."

Martinez reels back, and the boy immediately veers his attention off him. Like a switch, his demeanor drops. Despite half his face being covered, his mouth twists into a cringing, apologetic smile. Slanted and off-beat, embarrassed. It'd be disarming if this wasn't Gotham, and if he didn't just hiss at Martinez like he was about to bite his head off.

"Sorry." He whispers, voice deceptively polite and softer now. Gordon has to strain his ears to hear him. "I was looking for him."

He points his finger towards-- Gordon? No, Gordon follows the direction, and finds himself looking at -- the Bat.

The Bat, who always looks stiff as a pole, now looks even stiffer. Somehow. Well, the explains the grappling hook attached to the boy's waist.

"What are you doing here?" The Bat says, gruff and unable to completely smother the stumble of surprise in his tone.

The boy still holds a sheepish smile, and slips off the window ledge. His feet hit the creaky boards with a near-silent thud, the Batman finds his feet and rapidly begins crossing the room.

Gordon notes the slight tremble in the boy's legs as he straightens. He adjusts his scarf, which droops close to his knees now that he's standing, and slings a backpack -- how long has had that? -- off his shoulders. When the Bat reaches his side, he does as he always does, and looms over the boy like a spectre. A threatening mass of shadows cloaked in all-consuming black. Standing next to him, the boy looks teeny in comparison.

The Bat is a man who terrifies even the most hardened criminals, Gordon has seen grown men shiver in fear at the mention of his name. And yet when the boy looks up at him, he doesn't even flinch.

Instead, his sheepish smile melts away like ice under the sun, holding only traces of his previous embarrassment. It remains as a shadow on his face, a small upturn at the corners of his mouth. The boy pushes his hood back just enough to reveal glinting, ice-flint eyes surrounded in tar-black face paint. He holds the backpack up with one arm. "You forgot this."

[maxx-doodles]

Once again worked with Gideon on the art for his latest song!

Gotta love the antics of these two crazies <3

[xxplastic-cubexx]

If you were to like redesign Magneto's classic outfit in a way that both suits the character and your own tastes, how would you redesign it?

uhhhh errrmmmmm i dont know i really couldnt improve upon perfection but i have still tried for you my friend !!!

[p4nishers]

there's something i need to say and yall can boo me for it but deep in my heart i'll always know i'm correct: crowley already forgave aziraphale. like already would take him back at one flutter of his eyelashes. that's all.

[fae-morrigan]

Y'know, I see a lot of people argue that like, Jay is ugly. Why does Jon like him? And I've made it clear I disagree, because, like, cmon:

That is OBJECTIVELY a handsome man, and I'm a lesbian, lmao.

But like. If he was. ... So?

I actually think it's pretty cool that DC was like, yeah, Superman fell in love with a guy who cuts his own hair with dull scissors and dresses like oscar the grouch. He's a little weird to look at, maybe he's not the most conventionally attractive dude, but SUPERMAN found him wonderful and wanted to kiss him on the mouth.

That's... great? Like that's great. There's no universe where that reading of the text isn't awesome and empowering. Queer love should transcend looks and social status, and a huge part of queerness is finding beauty in the 'odd', anyways.

[feather-bone]

Have you made any art of orcas? I can't seem to find any with Tumblr's broken tag search, so I figured I'd ask in case you haven't. Thank you, and I love all your art! It always puts a smile on my face when I see it. c: ❤️

I have! I was a couple years ago, I also can't find the original post. Broken website lol ;w; So here's a re-upload of The Whale because I am quite fond of this guy !!

[ID: a digital illustration of an orca facing to the right on a simple ocean background. Sunlight is filtering in from above, and there are small fish surrounding it. End.]

[sketchy-tour]

I know hardly anything about Moral Orel (except for a couple small things from a friend who LOVES it)

But the guy you drew (Reverend Putty?) looks cool! I'd like to see more art of him, if you ever make it I mean

YOU DON'T GOTTA TELL ME TWICE-

You don't understand how much this stupid old man makes my brain buzz aaaaaaugh!!!!!! He's so stupid so silly so pathetic. This dang SHOW.

[gifti3]

well...

congrats to lucifer's overwhelming "win"!

[wraithdance]

Good Boy [Part 2/?]

CW: Mentions of canon childhood trauma & abuse, ptsd depictions, awkwardness, Afab!Reader, I’m a dirty liar there will be more parts of this so enjoy the calm before the storm or whatever. This is apart of the Stray Dogs series

Simon is put on leave.

He’d received a nasty hairline break in his wrist after a fall out of a moving car during a recent op. (He’d been pushed out really but semantics didn't matter in the end because he'd gutted the man that had done it.) Price had nearly come to blows with him when he threatened the medic who signed off on his medical leave. Simon had been escorted off the property with strict orders to not return until he was cleared.

The cast is uncomfortable, the sensation of his bare fingers out while in public sends the talons of anxiety coursing through his body. So, he stays in his bare flat. The silence is loud and suffocating, not even the occasional echoes of his neighbors or the drone of a forgotten Manchester United game helps against the heavy weight of isolation.

After a week he’s spiraling in the dark of his own home. Stray lights bounce off the walls from between the cracks of his blinds, sending him into wide eyed paranoia. He had begun seeing things that weren’t there. Shadows moving to embrace him like a burial shroud, movement from the corner of his eyes. Nothing there when he points his pistol at the corners. He can’t sleep for long before the sound of the dull thunk of dirt on a coffin locks his body into paralysis.

When Johnny calls to check in Simon’s teeth are chattering uncontrollably from the chills that wrack his body. He manages to get through the call by grunting and humming when necessary. Johnny takes it as Simon still being upset about the forced medical leave.

‘No good to anyone wit’ yer hand like that LT.’ MacTavish says with sympathy. Simon is silent on the other end of the line.

No good to anyone without a gun in his hand because a dog that can’t be sicced, is not a dog.

He hangs up the phone when Johnny jokes that he thought Simon was invincible, an immortal surpassing the fragility of man.

“Fuck.”

Simon's eyes meet the business card in the mirror as he wipes sick from his mouth. It takes him more than once for his fingers to unclench at his will. The indents from his nails sting as blood rushes back to the digits. He stares at the card for too long before he brushes past the string of texts from Johnny and dials your number.

One ring, two and a third. He hangs up when the call connects. You’re calling back seconds later, he lets it go to voicemail. He’s watching his own eyes dilate in the mirror when you call again.

This time he picks up.

You’re silent and he listens to your breathing. There's a shuffle and he thinks he can make out the sounds of sheets shifting.

“Um? Hi… is this the guy from the pub?”

Simon grunts. “Don't give out your number a lot?”

You laugh despite his flat tone. “Nah, I don’t have anyone who calls me. Just my mum and dad really.” You’re hesitant, he can feel it through the phone like a tangible thing.

“Wasn’ gonna call.”

This makes you laugh again, he realizes you laugh a lot at things that weren’t funny.

“I figured you weren’t after the first week. I’m glad you did though, I still meant what I said.”

There's another lapse in silence before you must realize he won’t assist in driving the conversation.

“Listen, let me show you what I’m working on okay? I’m going to send you an address to a coffee shop and you can show up when you want. I won’t hound you if you don’t.”

“Didn’t give me a time.”

“Oh Yeah! I dog walk in the mornings before the shop opens. I’m there pretty much everyday stealing the free wifi and working on my manuscript, so you can show up anytime and I’ll probably be there.” You laugh again in self deprecation.

His fingers twitch around the phone. Simon thinks you’re too free with your joy. There's a part of him that wants to pluck the mirth from your throat and pocket it inside his own chest for warmth.

He doesn’t promise you anything but you still thank him profusely when he gruffly tells you he’s hanging up.

Your soft good night rings inside his ears for the rest of the evening, it’s louder than the endless quiet or the memories of being buried alive. In the morning when he wakes he squints at the bright light of his phone, clicking on the text thread of your unsaved number. An address and a reminder of your name followed by a smiling emoji.

You’re the fourth contact he saves to his phone.

He shows up after two days. He’d looked at your text for the umpteenth time and pocketed his keys into his jacket, commuting to the building on autopilot. It’s more of an outdoor food court that serves coffee than the coffee shop you described. Simon makes eye contact with you from the entrance of the outdoor patio. Your smile is dampened like you're afraid of scaring him off with your excitement. He’s nearly to the bench you sit on when you suddenly shoot up and throw your hands out to stop him.

“Wait!”

He stops in his tracks. The space in his mind where Ghost exists takes over him like a thick fog as he searches for a threat. His good hand spasms against the fabric of his jeans-covered thigh.

You must realize your error because you grimace.

“I’m so sorry I have a client's dog with me. I just wanted to make sure you weren’t scared or allergic before you saw him.”

Simon is taken aback. His knee jerk instinct is to lash out, ask you if you were an idiot or something else needlessly vitriolic, but he can’t bring himself to with the genuine worry you emote.

The fact that you were concerned enough to check in is an oddity. He’s unfamiliar with being on the other side of care from a woman that wasn’t related to him by marriage or water of the womb. It guts him how easily he wants to lean into it, desperate for the small connection not severed by death.

“Not ‘fraid of dogs,” He rolls his shoulders back, eyes taking in everything but your smile. “I don’ drink coffee either.”

That makes you laugh loudly, you smack a hand over your mouth to cover the giggles that escape. Simon stares down the flickering dance of your irises. You’re unbothered by his leering and instead offer him another grin.

“O-kay! Just let me introduce you to him and I’ll grab you whatever you want okay?” You’re moving before he can say anything.

Despite his objection to being afraid, he still braces himself to be met with a four legged behemoth. The long forgotten dog bite on his right calf sings with phantom pain like he’d received it yesterday and not twenty years ago. His father had let his drunken friends dangle Simon in front of his illegal Japanese Tosa. An eight year old Simon had kicked out in fear and had been mauled by the dog in return. Simon’s mother had sobbed inconsolably at the sight of the deep wounds.

You turn around after a moment of shuffling and he can’t help but to blurt, “Wot the steaming hell is that?”

You’re pouting and holding your free hand over the ear of the pint sized rodent trembling in your embrace. The small elderly chihuahua looked ready to leap from your arms in pursuit of the sweet relief of death.

“This is Sprinkles, he’s my neighbor's dog! Mr. Allens is in the hospital for a bit so I’ll just be taking care of Sprinkles for a few days in the meantime. Do you wanna say hello?”

He grunts, giving you a side eye as you inch closer, “Rather not.”

You huff turning to the mangy mutt with a sad smile. “It’s okay, he just doesn’t understand you like I do.” You tell Simon to sit down while you grab some tea. He’s thankful that you bring Sprinkles with you, uncomfortable with the imagery of the dog meeting its much needed end on his watch.

When you return you hand him his steaming cup of Earl Grey tea and launch into your pitch. Simon makes no plans to drink the beverage instead tapping the digits not in the cast on the paper cup. Sprinkles sits in your lap trembling in his tiny sweater.

Fockin’ hell.

Simon interrupts you mid sentence.

“You want me to pose for a bloody romance?”

You blink “Yep, that is what I’m writing so essentially that's the idea.”

Simon cuts you a look not liking the sass but you return it with a cheeky grin. “I know it's unconventional but when I saw you in the pub I couldn’t help but think you looked like a character of mine. I had to see if you’d be willing to model for me.”

“‘Haven’t even seen my face.” He huffs in disbelief.

Cocking your head you look at him in consideration, taking in the black balaclava and stroking Sprinkles as you do. “Yeah, I figured you were sensitive about it since you’re covered from head to toe. Technically you wouldn’t need to take anything off. I was more so interested in capturing your overall aura.”

Simon doesn’t say anything for a while. Just watches you with narrow eyes. You’re mid sip when he asks you to read the manuscript for himself.

“Ack!”

He’s mildly impressed that you manage not to sputter tea all over the dog. Your eyes burn with tears from the effort to not choke to death. “W-why would you want to read it?!” you’re squeaking with wide eyes.

He gives a half shrug, warmth pattering at his chest. “‘Didn’ hear you say anything about payment so thought I might see what’s the fuss. Got a reputation and all so I can’t just agree to anything.”

The look you give him is unimpressed. “Are you being funny? I can’t really tell and I’d rather you just say no rather than tease me.”

He leans back, raising his arm to rest near you on the top of the bench. You glance at the closeness of his gloved hand but he ignores the pointed look.

“Serious as a heart attack. I wanna read it before I give you an answer.”

There's a moment where he thinks you’ll say no, he’s expecting it, but you set your shoulders back and tip your chin up at him. “Fine. You can read it, I don’t mind whatsoever.”

“Really?”

“Yep.” you pop the ‘p’ in the word. “Absolutely fine with it. I encourage it actually, fair is fair and all.”

He snorts out a dark chuckle. “Right.”

You ask for his email address and Simon gives you an encrypted email containing a string of numbers. You make a joke about him secretly being a spy that he doesn’t laugh at. It doesn’t bother you any, you continue chuckling to yourself as you press send.

Simon watches you pause in hesitation as you gather the half dead dog and your belongings. You’re chewing on your bottom lip in thought stroking Sprinkles whose eyes are half lidded in your arms.

“Wot?” He asks gruffly, startling you.

“Sorry,” you smile sheepishly. “I was just wondering… can I sign your cast?”

Simon’s eye twitches.

“Why would you wanna do that?”

At his tone you squint your eyes at him. “Because that’s what friends do?”

Simon wants to say something snarky around the lump in his throat. Condemn you for assuming they were friends after meeting only once prior. The urge fizzles out when you give him a startled expression.

“Has no one ever signed your cast before?”

No.

He’d broken many bones in his life starting from the age of childhood. Tommy had tried to sign his leg cast once when they were teenagers, he’d earned a broken nose from their father before he’d been able to finish scrawling out the second ‘m’ in his name. He’d never been close enough to anyone else to be asked.

In his reverie you’ve rifled through the tote back at your arm, shifting sprinkles on your hip. You procure a sharpie and hold it up like a trophy.

You approach him cautiously waiting for his objection.

When you’re standing toe to toe with his army grade boots you flick your eyes to the cast and his covered face. “So… Can I sign?”

Simon shifts on the bench, neck tensed. After several beats he looks away and lets out a gruff ‘fine.’ You don’t give him a chance to change his mind.

When you’re finished you pop up with a satisfied smile, slipping the cap on to the marker. “There, all done!”

Simon says nothing. He lumbers to a stand that causes you to stumble back. He watches your flickering eyes and the waver of your smile.

“Okayyyy… I have to get this one home now so just let me know when you want to meet?”

You wave enthusiastically at him and walk away. You only get a few feet before you stop and turn around. Simon watched as you take Sprinkles or in hand and wave it as well. “Say bye to Sprinkles!”

He cuts his eyes at you. “I’m not sayin’ goodbye to the bloody dog.”

You pout and shrug, whispering something to the dog as you go. Simon stands in place for several minutes watching you retreat.

Bloody Hell.

At home on his couch he pops open a can of ale with one hand taking a long gulps. Simon opens the email attachment you sent him, momentarily distracted by your blocky letters on his cast and the lopsided smiley face drawn in sharpie. He squints at the pages before him in his lap trying to make sense of what he was reading.

His eyebrows twitch when he reaches fifty pages in and realizes you’d sent him written porn.

“Wot the bloody hell.”

[triglycercule]

horror being very specific with table manners and he berates people (dust and killer) for eating like fucking pigs

i think it'd be morbidly funny that because there was no food in horrortale but the cutlery and stuff was all there that maybe he would pretend to eat with no food on the plate. it was in a satirical way that he would joke maybe around horror paps or alone where he would pretend to eat and have really good table manners but then the satire joke became REAL and now horror is incredibly specific about how to eat food

you MUST hold the fork in the left and knife in right says horror. no killer you can't duel wield the fucking knives this is a table not a slaughterhouse. dust pick up your elbows off the table. actually how about you get your entire upper body off the table tf why are you SLEEPING ON THE FOOD??? killer's sitting fetal position in the chair because of course he wouldn't sit normally like the idiot he is. dust is forced to put his hood down and reveal his face no more mysterious shadow style because it puts horror at ease. they cannot have a single peaceful meal because once they get past the table manners phase it then becomes a completion to see who can eat the least (because they suck at everything including eating)

[zrllosyn-art]

His hair DOES kinda, flop into his face after combat. So i guess he does??

Anyways more stuff that is not in the comic but i made on the side.

[mrpenguinpants]

Hypothetical question but are we still into windbreaker (nii satoru)? Y'all cool if I put my hyper fixation on center stage?

[nami-moittli]

The thing about fem! Yuu, is that I do genuinely think she’d be treated a bit differently than her male and gn counterparts, not in a weird way though ofc, just that some characters would treat her differently. Like, Leona is obviously going to be a bit more respectful to her, or maybe Deuce wouldn’t know how to talk to her at first. After a couple of weeks or maybe a month I think they’d just. Forget that she was a girl and start treating her the same regardless. Idk, there would be slight differences but nothing that’s like. Weird or anything. Because NRC is an all boys school so fem! Yuu would be even more of an “outcast” for lack of a better word, but that’d be gone in a month

[tealgoat]

Playable characters

[unteriors-in-house-flipper-2]

how do you get the angle & fov so close to the original!! is it just trial & error or do you superimpose the photo atop the game somehow

recently ive been tracing the outlines of the rooms in Clip Studio Paint, and then capturing both CSP and the game in OBS and changing the blending mode for CSP to multiply!

i use CSP's perspective ruler tool to find the horizon in the reference picture and then compare it with any doors in the image (theyre very consistently 2m tall) to find the height at which the photo was taken, and then make a little platform in the game so the pov is at the same height

i then trial and error the approximate position by putting down square tiles and lining it up with the floor in the picture. i'll then build up the walls (theyre usually around 2.5m tall, so i just make them 13 blocks/2.5m tall and use the resizable cube to get the ceiling to the right height). then i do even more trial and error to find the FOV, focusing on matching the angle of vertical lines near the sides of the screen.

i use a kitchen cabinet inner corner piece to "save" my position, i'll back into it to get to the exact same spot every single time. i'll also place a small item (usually a clothing hook) on the wall on the spot my cursor needs to be so i can always face the right way!

often the images have to be rotated very slightly for the horizon to be perfectly horizontal. i'll always note down by how many degrees, and when i'm cropping the final screenshot to the correct aspect ratio i'll also rotate it to match :)