#if you don’t like it then fuck off

[totallynotgoat]

Some of you new Outlast fans need to get tf off ya’lls high horses

You’re not better than anyone in this fandom and you shouldn’t be here if you’re gonna get so fucking offended over someone’s favorite character

if that person isn’t doing anything harmful or defending that characters actions then it doesn’t fucking matter

[aesthetic-uni]

Oh. God.

[danggerine]

going insane thinking about the harrow and palamedes friendship. harrow, who has never met another necromancer her age forming a bizarro 3D chess rivalry while pal worries about her safety at every possible turn. harrow, who is up to her eyebrows in paranoia and secrecy, trusting the sixth house with gideon unconscious and hurt, letting them into the ninth house quarters unsupervised. if “i cannot conceive of a universe without you in it” is goth for i love you, “death first to vultures and scavengers” has got to be goth for i love you (platonic). pal’s first reaction when harrow comes into his bubble in the river is to scoop her up in a hug, and at this point she doesn’t remember anything about him because cutting out all her memories of gideon is impossible without cutting out memories of the sixth, but she still makes him a skelehand to inhabit anyway. when harrow’s memories are finally whole, she tells dulcinea she couldn’t face pal knowing that his pen pal girlfriend died on her account, but the next time she “faces” him, palamades’s soul is in someone else’s body and harrow’s body is full of nona’s soul. he spends six months protecting and caring for harrow’s body (and nona obv), believing in the possibility of bringing her back to it the same way cam believed in him. “god, do you know i miss harrow terribly.” and by the time harrow comes back to her body at the very end of ntn, pal is gone forever, fully pauled. the last time harrow and palamades see each other as their complete selves is in canaan house, alive and unlyctored. two of the smartest and loneliest people in the solar system meet each other in the worst of circumstances and spend the rest of the story dancing around each other as fragments of themselves, trying to care about each other in the interim but never fully meeting like they did the first time. a friendship made almost entirely of missing the other person. “do you know i miss harrow terribly.” god. i need to lie down

[laniidae-passerine]

don’t get how you can watch iwtv and be a sincere diehard lestat hater. like the world’s biggest lestat hater is louis and that man can’t even commit to it for more than five minutes before literally hallucinating lestat wearing a wedding ring and talking pretty to him. this show is about louis and every road leads back to lestat for that man

[aria-greenhoodie]

You see, @localcanadiancryptid22, I’m a motherfucker who LOVES drama, so I fw anything that can create that.

I’m normal. Btw. In case you were wondering.

[margoshansons]

Dreamfyre you’re still the mother of Daenerys’s dragons in my heart and will be until GRRM comes out of his hole to tell me otherwise

[weirdglassthing]

ouaw doodle dump!!

[greenglowinspooks]

(DCxDP) The obligations of a rogue versus those of a parent (Pt. 4)

—

Tw: descriptions of body horror, Dr. Crane has PTSD and Does Not Realize, Crane has an actual panic attack and just doesn’t care, the Riddler makes one (1) sex joke about Batman

Will be crossposted to AO3 eventually

(Pt. 1 here) (Prev here) - (Pt. 5 here)

(Masterlist here)

—

Dr. Jonathan Crane is in his lab, the acrid scent of chemicals filling the air, and his hands are shaking.

Danny’s health, for the first week that he had him, had been steadily improving at an extremely quick rate. However, his healing had begun to stagnate. Danny said that it was because his body had run out of ectoplasm, and that while there was a lot of ambient ectoplasm in Gotham, he needed a stronger type in order to heal.

And so, that led Dr. Crane here.

He had stolen the research notes from the Penguin years ago regarding his experimentation on him.

(He quite vividly remembers the sound of bone creaking and groaning as it twisted, lengthened. The squelching of shifting tendons and muscles, the strange fabric-like tightening of skin. The feeling of going from man to monster, of losing all claim to his humanity.)

Danny had called him Liminal, part ghost. He had said that he was transformed by, among other things, a kind of synthetic ectoplasm.

Danny needed ectoplasm.

Crane had the research notes. He had every ingredient necessary. And yet, attempt after attempt failed.

The chemical smell burns his nose. His hands tremble.

Dr. Crane is not afraid.

He doesn’t feel fear anymore. He’s tried to, many, many times, but nothing has worked. And yet, his hands are shaking still.

(The horrifying sensation of vertebrae pop-pop-popping along his spine, growing and lengthening. The unbearable itching beneath his skin as toxin glands begin to form. The feeling of his teeth sharpening and elongating, of his skull growing, of his vision changing and brightening. The awful stench of chemicals. The awful stench of ectoplasm.)

Jonathan takes careful note of his shaking hands, his blurring vision, his accelerated heart-rate and shallow breathing.

(Human hands. Human vision. Human heart and lungs and organs.)

He takes note of them, but he does not let that distract him from the task at hand. Danny is not a chemist, but Jonathan is.

The boy knows enough about chemistry in theory, but he won’t go anywhere near Crane’s equipment. He seems to have some sort of intense fear of laboratory settings, probably developed during his stay with the GiW, and Crane is willing to respect that, if only because he cannot afford to lose him.

As such, Crane is the only one qualified to do this. And, unfortunately, if he isn’t successful the boy may very well die.

He heats the chemicals to precisely the right temperatures, adding each one to its correct container.

Dr. Crane thinks of the Scarebeast, that creature born of cruelty and greed and a sense of superiority. That creature which he tries to ignore is a part of him, that can never be removed. A damage which cannot be undone.

He pours the contents of a small beaker into a larger flask, watching the liquids swirl together. The stench in the air is becoming closer and closer to the one burned into his memory.

Crane’s whole body is wracked with unpleasant sensations. It’s truly unfortunate, he thinks, that despite his mind’s lack of fear, his body still reacts so harshly.

Jonathan’s eyes wander, eventually settling on a purple and green card sitting innocently on the corner of the table.

Right.

Even if they wiped out the GiW tomorrow, and even if Danny could survive without ectoplasm, he would still be in danger.

Crane has to get him back to good health. It’s the only way he can be sure that the boy can defend himself properly.

The solution in the flask begins to foam, and Jonathan does not hesitate as he adds the final ingredient. He pours the mixture into a new container, capping it and placing it into a freezer set to -40 degrees.

Hopefully this time he got the timing right.

Jonathan tries to relax, the ventilation in the room slowly but surely clearing the familiar smell from the air.

He thinks of the letter.

Surely, he thinks, that man can come up with some better material for his jokes. Or, at least something new.

Same old threats, same old attempted poisoning.

Aiming his threats at Danny, though, that was new. New and utterly unacceptable.

Scarecrow did what he had to.

He doubted that his solution would last forever, of course, as with that man it never did. As such, he would prepare both himself and Danny for the inevitable moment that his choices came back to bite them.

However, for the moment, they were safe. Danny could rest and recover, and Jonathan could figure out a plan to minimize possible damages.

Jonathan is no longer shaking.

He’s exhausted. This is his fifth attempt today, and each one leaves an unfortunate strain on his mind and body.

With a sigh, he settles himself into his seat at a nearby desk, opening up his computer and logging his most recent attempt. He still has to wait for it to chill to know if it was successful, but he can always update the logs later.

Once he’s done, he stretches, joints popping loudly as he walks to the freezer.

When he sees the results of his tireless work, the ghost of a smile flits across his face.

Success.

Jonathan picks up the jug of ectoplasm and leaves the lab, which is in all actuality the basement of the new apartment that he moved himself and Danny into after receiving the note. The scrappy old woman who was his landlord had told him that as long as he paid her five hundred dollars up front, she would let him set up in the basement without any questions or cop calls.

And so, the most expensive apartment in the Narrows was his.

At least, he thought, the distance between the basement and the apartment was short enough that Danny didn’t have to sit in while he was doing his labwork.

Jonathan knew that he didn’t exactly have a strong grasp on the concept of ‘lab safety,’ proven by his built-up immunity to almost every toxic chemical he’d ever encountered, and he doubted that Danny should be around such an environment.

He was back to the apartment quickly, not bothering to hide the self-satisfied smile on his face. Danny is sitting in his armchair, trying to read one of his books. Danny looks up, ready to greet him, when he sees the jug in his hands and pauses.

“Is that..?”

“Synthetic ectoplasm,” Jonathan says proudly, “I found the Penguin’s research notes and decided to recreate it, since you said that you needed it to heal properly. I’m not sure if it’ll work the same as what you usually have, but I hope it’s helpful all the same.”

Danny is standing, now, and looking at Jonathan with a strange look in his eyes. He looks, Jon thinks, like he’s about to cry.

Then Danny is rushing forward and wrapping his arms around Jonathan, his scrawny form shaking.

Jonathan is, for a moment, horrified. Did he do something wrong somehow? Why is this child, who’s so afraid of touch, hugging him?

And then he hears Danny’s voice, and he knows that it was all worth it.

“Thank you,” he’s mumbling, over and over, “thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you so much.”

“Of course,” Jonathan says softly, because what else can he say?

The boy cries in his arms for a while, and Jonathan briefly wonders what his life must have been like before, if a person like him can be seen as a comforting figure.

Then, Danny pours himself a small glass of the synthetic ectoplasm, putting the rest into the small fridge which had come with the apartment, and he settles back down, sitting in the armchair once again.

Jonathan sits opposite of him, and they chat with one another as Danny drinks.

Danny talks to him about the stars and tells him about different spaceships, and Jonathan makes sure to pay attention and ask the boy questions.

He doesn’t miss the way that Danny lights up every time he asks him something about his interests. He’s so passionate, so smart, a trait that he seldom sees outside of his fellow rogues, and Jonathan wants to encourage that.

It’s…nice. Peaceful, almost.

And then the front door flies open, because Jonathan isn’t allowed to have nice things.

“Jon,” a familiar voice rings out, “what the hell?!”

Danny is frozen in place, clearly terrified.

Jonathan heaves a sigh, turning to face the nuisance who’s entered his apartment.

“Eddie,” he drawls, “to what do I owe the pleasure?”

Edward’s face is red with anger as he invades Jonathan’s apartment.

“Oh, I don’t know! Maybe it’s the fact that you sent a bunch of rogues a cryptic message and then dropped off the face of the earth for two weeks! I was worried, Jon!”

Jonathan hums in acknowledgement.

“I didn’t think it was that cryptic,” he says, picking up a book in order to pointedly ignore the Riddler.

“Oh, of course you didn’t, you straw-stuffed hickory dickory dickhead. I swear, you’re always—” he pauses, finally having noticed Danny sitting opposite of Jonathan, “—who is this?”

“My apprentice,” Jonathan replies, dreading the upcoming headache he was no doubt going to develop from Edward’s company, “he’s helping me hunt down the GiW. His name is Danny.”

Edward gasps dramatically.

“You—an apprentice?! And you’re letting him sit in the old man chair?! You don’t even let me sit in the old man chair,” he wails, draping himself over the headrest of the couch with a flourish, “Jonathan, I thought I knew you!”

“Edward,” Jonathan says, “get out of my apartment.”

“Oh my goodness, this is incredible. You’re becoming the bat!”

“I am not becoming the bat, Eddie, now get out.”

Edward has a shit-eating grin on his face as he waltzes over to Danny. Danny, who seemed terrified when he first appeared, is now looking at him with obvious amusement written all over his face.

“I mean, look at him! The hair, the eyes, the scrappy build. If you put him in one of those traffic light vigilante costumes, he could easily pass as a Robin!”

“I’m not doing this with you today, Eddie.”

“Riddle me this, Jon: I am a treasure hidden inside of a chest. You can break me, or steal me, or give me a rest. I can flutter, or pound, or attack, or drop, but if you don’t have me, you’re certainly fucked. What am I?”

Jonathan pauses for a moment before he groans, dropping his head into his hands.

“Eddie.”

Danny sits still, a confused look on his face as he repeats the riddle silently. Then, his face lights up in delight.

“A heart!”

“Jon, I like this one,” Edward says with a smile, ruffling Danny’s hair, “you are correct! A heart, something that I wasn’t aware that our dear Jonathan had!”

“Eddie, stop.”

“No, no,” Edward says, “I was worried about you, you deserve this. I mean, you even missed girls night! You never miss girls night!”

“Girls night?” Danny asks, absolutely delighted.

“Oh, of course,” Edward says, sprawling over on the couch, dangerously close to just laying in Jonathan’s lap, “we have it once a week. I’m invited because of Selina and Jon’s invited because Harley likes him.”

“And what does girls night entail, exactly?”

“Eddie,” Jonathan groans, “please.”

“Well,” Edward hums, “we usually paint our nails, or watch a movie, or gossip about the other rogues, and occasionally, we tell each other about any ‘encounters’ we have with Batman,” he says, raising his eyebrows up and down.

Danny’s jaw drops.

“Edward, shut up,” Jonathan says, an irritated tone in his voice that wasn’t there before.

“No way,” Danny says, “I thought that Batman, like, hated you guys or something. You mean he actually..?”

“Oh, the Bat is much like a bottle of liquor or a cheap cigarette, in that he was made to be passed around.”

Danny chokes on air.

“Edward Nygma,” Jonathan hisses, getting out of his seat and looming over the man, “get the hell out.”

Edward pales.

“Leaving, leaving!” Edward says, dashing away from Jonathan. He pauses, turning to flash Danny a quick smile.

“Remember Danny, I’m your favorite uncle! Not any of the other rogues, me!”

With that, he leaves, the room falling completely silent.

And, as per usual, that silence does not last.

“You full-named him?” Danny asks gleefully, “and it worked?”

Jonathan just sighs, sitting down on the couch and rubbing at his temples.

“Please, don’t take anything Eddie says seriously. He’s a moron.”

“Dr. Crane, please let me come to girls night with you,” Danny pleads, his eyes sparkling, “I promise I won’t embarrass you.”

Jonathan groans.

“Of course you won’t, Eddie will do it for you.”

“Come on, please?”

“I think we’re a bit busy with the GiW at the moment,” Jonathan snaps. He pauses as he notices the crestfallen expression on Danny’s face.

This boy is going to be the death of him.

“Perhaps, though, when all that is taken care of…”

Danny cheers, grinning wildly, and Jonathan is not at all relieved to see him happy again. Certainly not.

The rest of the day is relatively normal.

Danny works on trying to get information from the GiW database while Crane refines his his fear toxin, both preparing for a raid on the GiW base they located in Gotham.

It was only a temporary base, nothing of note, but there was a chance of discovering more bases through it, and that wasn’t something either of them were willing to give up.

Still, something like this would take time. Rushing would only lead to failure.

…

Late in the night, long after Danny is fast asleep in his room, Jonathan pauses.

The GiW are not the only threat out there. They aren’t the only threat to him or to Danny. Perhaps it could be helpful to reach out to someone with greater resources than himself.

He sends a quick message to Red Hood.

Hopefully, he thinks, everything will go smoothly.

—

[keferon]

Okay I’m. Usually. Usually I don’t enjoy human aus and usually I hate drawing transformers as humans because it feels so wrong to my brain.

But then I stumbled upon Dream of something more by Gemma_Inkyboots and aaauuuhh fuck. Here’s the pile of the most vague and unspecific and undetailed fanart. Because I’m being torn between “I can’t drawing human designs” and “If don’t draw something for this fic I die”.

[ihavesomejays]

text transcription:

Many springs ago, I perceived a sea of flowers upon a lake. I thought to myself that those fleeting colors held indescribable beauty.

The next time I perceived those colors was many years later, when the medic’s tent had blinded me to all but red. The radiance of that shining star was lost on my eyes.

Now, my eyes no longer perceive the subtleties in the colors around me.

But I am content.

For I can now see the most brilliant colors in my universe.

anyways yeah why did they fucking do that to jiaoqiu bro

the planning for this experimentalish comic is under keep reading

[ghostly-schematics]

I think what more people need to understand is that the pjo cast were cast with the intention of matching the reasoning behind their book appearance, rather than just how they were described. Luke, for example, was described in the books as a blond, muscular surfer kind of guy. At the time of publishing (2005), that was your generic attractive character, and he was described like that to make you trust him more so the betrayal was more unexpected. Now, almost twenty years later in the show, he looks like a tiktok fuck boy because that’s what people now tend to like more. On the other hand, Annabeth was blonde in the books because that was what made people doubt her intelligence, which isn’t something as common now. However, racism is still very real (as proven by people’s responses to Leah being cast), which makes people underestimate her, giving way for the same character arc. This concept works with the rest of the castings as well. Grover still gives the vibes of a lovable loser. Percy looks ready to sass a ninety year old man. Chiron looks appropriately wise and the Ares kids look ready to fuck you up.

The only character that I would say is different is Clarisse. In the books she’s described as big and muscular and ugly, as it was quite common at the time to say ugly = bad which is something that has not aged well at all. Dior’s casting goes against those negative attitudes and ties into the theme of “not everyone who looks like a monster is a monster and not everyone who looks like a hero is a hero”

And at the end of the day, everyone in the cast perfectly captures their characters’ personalities regardless of their appearance

[edwinisms]

i get such a sense of primal envy when looking at edwin’s clothes up close because god you can just tell his coat is real wool and made to last and not cheap flimsy mass produced garbage and auggagghhhh that was just STANDARD in his time. by no means am i saying i was #borninthewronggeneration because i like having vaccines and household appliances but. man. to have a personally-tailored coat like that that’d last for years and years……. and fabrics of fine thread-dense quality………. if only

[yourtaquitos]

Ah yes, more filthy gay people

[tariah23]

oooooo white people in my replies really saying ‘I can excuse racism but I draw the line at homophobia’

Not surprised since this is the site that only talks about racism and thinks it’s a big deal when they see it demonstrated in the cartoons and comics they like *coughs* dungeonmeshi *coughs* (for example at least. I haven’t seen THIS many white ppl talk as in depth about racism on here as much as these fandom nerds, man. I stg. Like “Ohhhh, so you all DO acknowledge that racism is real? Just not in real life even if you could feel it slapping you in the face at high speed. Gotcha.” It’s crazy.

Tumblr is like, 90% white and is extremely centered around them. That’s why you barely see stuff that’s important to black and brown people ever trending here or being talked about. It has to be something incredibly huge to the point where even white people can’t ignore it like they usually do, to talk about it here.

They only talked about George Floyd here because the topic of his death became world news. Even people in other countries were talking about it. Before him, it was probably Ferguson and Trayvon Martin… most of them are still trying their best to ignore the genocides because it’s a “touchy subject.” What do you expect from white people who live in their own bubbles of comfort and refuse to pop it with a needle??? They find comfort in their privilege and faux ignorance (they love playing stupid to avoid conversations about important things outside of fandoms like, are these mfs born with half a brain dedicated to fandom or what.) That’s literally all these mfs make a big deal out of, especially on this annoying ass platform. The ao3 mfs will go to war for the site that allows racist ff and cp like it’s no big deal. I wonder how many people here even donated to the site while actively scrolling past dono posts from folks who really do need help. They act like they’re doing a civil service by defending this site that makes over the amount of it’s intended dono goal in minutes.

Then you already know as soon as you even bring up racism in the stuff they like, they start ganging up and harassing black bloggers especially, calling them TERFs and the whole nine. Anything to make that person look bad for being concerned about the racism that they have such an intense aversion to. God, it’s absolutely exhausting knowing that these people would have no problem choosing a cartoon character over your entire existence if they COULD. Isn’t that fucking sad, man?

[daddyhoothoot]

Holy shit I swear some people make me want to launch myself into the sun.

For the last time, Helluva Boss is about Blitzø’s relationships, not IMP missions. Viv and Brandon have both said that numerous times in interviews and at cons.

Blitzø’s biggest and most complicated relationship right now is with Stolas, OF COURSE that’s going to be the main focus of a good majority of episodes. If you don’t like that then don’t watch the show.

I’ve seen people say they’ve liked these shorts more than the last few episodes of the show because it’s “like the show was in the beginning.” But hello??? It’s called character development. If the only thing the show was about were these little missions IMP goes on, you would get bored! Not having character development or character relationships would get stale so fast!

I swear media literacy is at an all time low.

[throwmethroughawindow]

“Come on Zoro, please?”

The hulking form of said man seemed to sag in annoyance at your persistent begging, slowly whittling away at his resolve with each ask but the bottle of sake next to you was a huge bargaining chip for you.

“What the fuck is a body shot anyways?” You had to ebb away the sliver of excitement at his question, already tasting the tequila on your tongue.

“All you have to do is hold a lime in your mouth. I’ll do the rest! And if you let me do this,” you held up the bottle of sake so Zoro could see it “you get this sake i brought specifically for you.”

“Fine.” He grunted and snatched the sake bottle out of your hand before you could react “but I’m taking this now.”

You shrug, not really caring as you take in the expanse of his chiseled chest. His body was perfectly honed and looked like it was made out of marble, felt like it too. Reaching over, you pour a shot of tequila and grab the salt and turn to face Zoro. His gaze was enough to make you want to sink to your knees and worship the ground he walks on, licking and sucking as much as he lets yo-

“Well?” His gaze cut down on you like a blade, shaking you out of your thoughts and making your heart and pussy throb “are you going to do this body shot so i can go back to drinking or what?”

“Well… there’s one tiny little detail I didn’t tell you. I need to lick a part of your body to put salt on for the tequila.”

A red blush dusted Zoro’s tanned cheeks as he seemed to falter for words, stammering “w-what the hell? Are you some kind of pervert? Why the hell do you wanna lick me?! Just take some out of the shaker!” You rolled your eyes at him, pushing closer to him as you grab tug on his open button up shirt playfully.

“That’s what a body shot is! It’ll be quick I promise. One little lick and some salt and we’re done!” You trailed your fingers over his abdomen, marveling at his solid body and the slight twitch it did at your soft touches.

“Fine! But hurry up, okay pervert!? Acting like that damn lovesick cook, wanting to lick-“

Zoro couldn’t help the loud moan as the feeling of a wet tongue licking across his very sensitive nipple. Glancing down, he caught your look of surprise at his reaction

“Why the hell are you licking my nipple!? You really are a fucking pervert!” His yelling didn’t really phase you because the only sound in your head was the sound of his pretty moan, how guttural and deep it was… not to mention how the sound went straight to your pussy.

“I’m done playing your stupid-“ Before Zoro could finish you latched your mouth around his nipple, nipping at it and sucking; doing anything to hear him moan again. To hear this huge Herculean man groan above because you licked his nipple was mind-blowing and completely erotic.

Sucking a little harder, you let out a small whimper as he panted and moaned above you; wrapping his hands in your hair to wrench your head away from his nipple as he set you with a hard glare. You whimpered again when you looked down and caught sight of his hard cock, trying to press closer to him to feel it against you.

“God you’re acting like a slut. Didn’t know you wanted my cock so bad,” Zoro had a mean smirk on his blush covered face, trailing his tongue over his sharp canines as he took in your blown out pupils and jutted bottom lip. “Makes me want to fuck you right here in the stupid cooks kitchen to show you who holds the power in this relationship.”

Thank you @terarria-sunflower for encouraging me to expand on this bc u said I could change u into a Zoro girly😭😭😫😫😫🩷 love you pookie