#like please get a ROOM

[soulmatesclub]

right in front of my salad????

[boxeom]

Oh okay so they're canonically insufferable, good to know

[egophiliac]

Malleus' bday is coming up, thoughts on what his sleepwear might be?

anticipating that reveal any time now, so gotta get my predictions in real quick (aka extremely fast drawings) (I'm sorry)

[wengenn]

I'm out there being the only one shipping stuff that I'm the only one ever to even think about

[on-the-clear-blue]

Down in the streets of Gotham, in the side alley next to Express Urgent Care run by one Leslie Thompkins and that was funded by the Martha Wayne Foundation was a soup kitchen.

Well...a soup kitchen of sorts. Not in any way official but if you were hungry in Crime alley you knew that the food would be safe and warm...and it was a place where *you* could be safe and warm.

Danny had left a week after his parents found out that he was Phantom, a week after he had seen their grief, the regret and pain in their eyes. The week had been spent in suspense, he knew that they needed to talk about what had happened but neither of his parents were ever able to even start bringing it up before they were sobbing.

Danny knew his parents loved him, thst his father felt soul crushing guilt, that his mother spent hours staring at herself in the mirror, as if she didn't even know who was looking back at her.

And to spare them both, Danny left.

It wasn't hard to do, not when he could turn invisible and phase through walls, a final text to Sam and Tucker to say his good byes (he knew that they would break and tell his parents where he would be going) and a particularly hard hug to leave from Jazz, Danny flew off with only a back pack.

He had traveled across the US for a few months, occasionally snagging a post card from a super store to send off home, paying only when he had the excess funds (Sam's rants about mega rich corporate billionaires let him know just which stores wouldn't miss the few bucks the cards sold for)

He had met up with Dani a few times, when she was in the country, handing him Vlads credit card and telling him to keep it (though he never did) only ever using it to book a room for a few nights at a hotel to clean himself up and sleep in a real bed.

He settled in Gotham after a while, he had briefly stayed in Faucett but that place didn't have nearly enough ecto for him to live comfortably.

Gotham on the other hand? It had everything, cops that don't question why a teen is on the streets, natural ecto up the wazoo and well...a crime rate that would dissuade his parents ever looking for him there.

He had set up a more permanent shelter in an abandoned apartment building (after chasing out the low level drug dealers that were using it) and found that he kinda liked the vibes of the place under the blatant crimes being committed in broad day light.

Sure people could see you getting mugged and look the other way, but if you were still alive and there 5 minutes later, they would come back, hand you something to clean up your now bloody nose and point out the bodega that had the best sandwiches.

It was a sense of community that Danny didn't know he had missed for the many months he traveled.

His first "cook out" wasn't even supposed to be a cook out, his apartment building was mostly wood and he didn't trust himself to not burn it down, so he came outside, setting up a portable stove and setting up a pot filled with some, water to boil up a soup mix.

As he waited for it to come to temp, he saw the group of homeless rubbing their hands together, watching him with curiosity, though that quickly turned to hunger as the smell of the soup spilled out into the alley.

Instead of turning the others away Danny only shrugged, pulled out his spare paper bowls and handed them out, taking a few bites first to show that it was safe to eat.

What followed was a sort of tradition, Danny would come out a few times a day, take out his hot plate and pot and set up a soup, others started asking if they could pitch in, and well...Danny would have loved to keep providing it freely but his food was quickly dwindling.

So his soup got add in, some jerky that Crazy Tom had got tossed in, a few herbs (re:weeds) were added in by Miss O'Connor, and Danny didn't even know where Lady Dimond pulled out some spices from, but he wasn't about to question the her, he had learned never to question where the working girls hid their things.

And it sort of grew from there, who ever was around came by, some came out of their way to share a meal, but it became a meeting place of sorts "Come by the Kitchen at noon, Tom got his hands on some steak! And it ain't even smells bad!"

Sure gangs tried to pull up on the meeting place, tried to intimidate the people there or coerce them into doing something...well that was until the host, some punk teen with hair darker than black and blue eyes that were so light they were white came up, and dished out a heavy handed fist into their jaws and sent them packing.

And so the Kitchen became a safe space, if you were hungry, if you were in danger, come by the little alley way, right next to the Express Urgent Care, the Host will take care of you there, if your willing to share, to stay peaceful with the rest of the gathered people, then you were welcome to grab a bite and relax, because the Kitchen was always safe.

---

It would be a few years since the Kitchen started, since people had brought chairs and tables, since an old grill of questionable origin was left out side it, since tarps with only a few holes were hung up to keep the place dry when it rained, since rugs covered the ground and the the alley it was in was swept clean of any needles or cigarette butts.

But for one boy it had only been a few short days since his Mama died, since he had found her cold and dead in the bathroom, a belt tied around her arm and a needle still in her hand.

Jason was miserable, he had stayed with her for the a single day before he knew he would have to leave, the body of his mother would start to decompose soon, so he did what he had too, calling the police with his mother's phone that didn't have a lot of minutes left on it, telling them the address before hanging up and leaving it there so he couldn't be tracked.

He couldn't be there when the cops showed up, foster care would do shit for him, and at least his Mama would be buried, and not left to rot in their bath tub.

So a young Jason Todd, scared, alone and hungry came to the Kitchen, as his mother had told him to many times before, had told him to seek out it's Host if anything ever happened to her...and well...at the very least he would get something to eat...

[laurellala-comics]

Examples below:

[mintbees]

One thing that keeps confusing me is that they claim ghost files costs several hundreds of thousands of dollars per season. I’ve tried to wrap my head around this ever since the announcement because flying a crew of 6 or so people out for two days and renting out the location COULD NOT be costing that much unless they’re either lying or blowing money on first class flights and expensive food/accommodations and even THEN do I not see them breaking 100k on a single episode. Dear lord hire an accountant I’m half convinced someone’s laundering money

[peace-hunter]

Do you think in the haunted AU, Onyx is reminding Optimus of what the ecology was like before Iacon's construction drove out cavern-dwelling creatures from the underground, and how the surface is meant to function without quintesson activity?

yeah. Yeah OTL

i love that idea! i think onyx was one of the most devastated at the damage the war did to their world and also one of most insistent on finding ways to repair it. half their time was spent fighting the quintessons and the other half collecting samples of everything they could get their hands on, keeping them stored away in the hopes they could be reintroduced to the ecosystem once it was safe to do so.

they may or may not have run out of space in their labs at one point and started piling them up in every room available to the point their siblings joked that they were trying to turn the tower into an indoor garden.

sadly, they never got to put their plans into action. and perhaps even more devastatingly, most of the samples were lost when sentinel "cleaned" up the tower afterwards. only a precious few were lucky enough to be overlooked and survive.

and. and maybe this isn't the most vital thing they could show optimus. maybe it isn't as important as battle tactics or government logistics. maybe it won't as helpful to his survival as another thousand little things they could teach him.

but. they don't want him to just survive. they want him to live. they want him to have hope and joy and everything that makes life worth living. they want him to know there's more than just battles and a war-torn world.

they want him to know the fields will bloom again someday.

haunted au

[heartstringgs]

Jean and Jeremy were so pathetically down bad for each other in tgr like what do you MEAN Jean noticed a different cologne on Jeremy and found it so offensive that it had come from another man . wdym Jean's wardrobe is mainly blue after a certain comment. Jean, hey jean why are you getting pissed off that your captain knows other men. 'I WOULD CHOOSE YOU EVERYTIME' ??????? What do you mean Jean chose brown as his favourite colour partly because a blonde shared the same eye colour. What do you meannnn Jeremy purposefully lifted his shirt in hopes of catching Jean's attention. 'I'm not learning French for anyone but you' BROTHER BE KIND TO HIS SOUL. Jean tells him he's good on the court and he nearly loses it. Annalise and Andrew clocking Jere on sight. Cap, why are you naming your pet's last name Moreau. Why are you malfunctioning when Jean is standing between your legs. Why does your gaze seek out Jean in every room you're in. They're so fucking stupid. Now kiss.

[skunkes]

micro comic with no real point or punchline i just have conversations i wanna draw out sometimes

[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."

[rat-spit-village]

the ppl saying veilguard doesn't deserve a bafta nomination for best narrative game... it's a complex story with a compelling cast of characters and a cohesive theme of the power of enduring hope in the face of adversity. the game came out like four months ago and already there are thousands of fics about it, relatively minor characters have huge fan communities. it's a story that has inspired huge swaths of people to take up art and hobbies again after years of hiatus. it's worthy of the nomination regardless of whether or not rook says 'ok' a lot or whatever it is that you're mad about

[broareweabouttoviberightnow]

thinkin about ice who is inherently intrigued by mav. someone who learned discipline in order to survive. was taught to lock everythin down to follow every order to think everythin through. pick it apart n then pick it over again. who meets maverick who is. none of those things. who wears every passin emotion on his face. who is reckless n impulsive n never seems to listen to a damn thing anyone has to tell him. who never thinks. just does. who is dangerous maybe. but god. does he seem fun.

[egophiliac]

Thoughts on Malleus’s birthday card reveal? 🎤

Twst knows exactly what I want, and that's Malleus Draconia, in his little fancy bed jacket and head wrap, kicking his legs on the couch as he giddily tries on different lipsticks so he can look super duper extra pretty for his big special birthday party. :)

[idontcaboose]

Haunted Car Au part 13

Previous. Masterpost

“You done figuring out the sound files yet?” Duke asked while tapping on the hood of the Batmobile.

He was excited to hear a campy “Yes, Sir!” Come out of the open windows of the car.

“Neat, first off, any files that have your name in it?” He was a little disappointed, but still snorted to hear the tragic ‘Noooooo’ from Darth Vader.

“I think Red Robin has some pronoun type files in there, what are yours?” A mix of sir’s, dude's, and bro's were played until Duke had to stop the guy.

“Ok, what about age?” He wasn't expecting to get a straight answer, but when the car played a Scooby-Doo cut of ‘those meddling kids’, he was confused.

“So a kid?” Duke questioned. He got a weird mix of 'Ehhh', 'Kinda', and 'close enough' type files.

“We can worry about that later, any ideas how you got stuck?” A short ‘Nope’ with a pop on the P played.

Talking to the car guy was strange. Getting answers could be easy or turn into 20 questions trying to clarify an answer. So far, Duke knew the person:

is male or male presenting

a meta

has no clue how he possessed the car

has a good understanding of current memes

was possibly in their teens (probably a bit younger than Duke, but older than Daimian)

was a street kid? (When asked where he lived the car played “Why should I worry” from an older Disney movie about homeless animals in New York or something. He had to look it up.)

has a good sense of humor

and is taking their situation in stride.

Duke really had to wonder what their life has been where this is not a vast problem to fix…. And whether or not he should argue his ‘notification tone’ being a choir singing.

He really does not get paid enough for this, but it is better than the other stuff Gotham throws at the Bats.

“Mind if I get you up on the lift and check the engine? Might give us some clues.” After an affirmative from the car guy, Duke got to work.

Next

@kizzer55555 @sebas-nights @candeartist422 @trappednyourheart @fandom-life-corrupted-me @tkiesai @2lbballpeenhammer @admiralwidow @rewrittenwrongs @whotfevenknowsanymore @symmetricalastigmatism @thespacedragons @atinygracie @okami-love @lesbian-spider-drone @1n0sss @forgetmenot-bluepurple

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Teehee! (Spritesheets your Wangxian)