#THROW THE MAN AWAY

[bunnithechubs]

the moment Nova entered her third trimester the twins decided to brave the new world!

[yaralulu]

[seamistgale]

Bernard was being haunted.

His sus-o-meter isn't up to 100%, but if he's being real, it never is. The downside of being into conspiracy theories was that you were only partially sure which one was more skewed than the other. One day he could be convinced Batman is more cryptid than man, and then he'd stumble on some fascinating witness accounts that make him rethink the Vampire hypothesis.

This time, however, he's fairly sure this sort of freaky shit only happens to people in those cookie-cutter horror movies.

… Except this particular ghost might be of midwestern decent, or something, because they sucked at properly haunting.

Example number one:

It was rare that Bernard had dishes piled up. He lived alone, and occasionally Tim would come to his apartment; with a couple of games, some takeout boxes, and a movie later, there would be way more things to clean up than a whole weekend on his own.

The last time Tim came over, Bernard didn't bother cleaning up for the night, and then the trash just…. Disappeared.

Not like 'a burglar broke in for some weird fetish reason, and my trash is now gone' gone, but more 'the trash is in bags, the dishes are clean, and I swear the air smells fresher' gone.

That was strike one.

He brushed it off because Tim had been there. It was unlikely he just went on a stress cleaning spree at Bernard's place but… Well, Bernard's caught him doing way weirder shit. It's fine.

(it's not fine. You just didn't move things around on someone else's turf.

"…Clean up?" Tim echoed back from the phone, sounding as confused as Bernard felt the following morning. "I-- no, of course not!" and then hurriedly continued to reassure Bernard he'd never do that. Because Tim was nice like that, even after Bernard low-key accused him of giving him the Gotham equivalent of pissing in someone else's yard.

So, that was strike one in the back of his hindbrain that something was up.)

Strike two and three came together.

See, in Gotham's economy, sometimes your employer doesn't have your paycheck the week it should be. Who cares if you need to pay rent through or your landlord will double your rent? Neither your boss nor the landlord in question, obviously. So what he usually did was have a nest egg the size of his rent just in case.

But this month Bernard had splurged a little too much, so he was short. It was nothing big, he was just five bucks short.

The issue was, that his landlord was paranoid and was already breathing down his neck for not paying the next month's rent the day before the new month started. Like clockwork, his landlord put a warning under his door, ready to evict him the same day the month started if Bernard didn't have the rent in cash the next morning.

He knew the eviction notice was at the door, but chose to ignore it because it didn't matter, he'd get those five one way or another by the end of the day.

By the time he came back, two things were out of place. The first was the eviction notice on his table. Again, no one moved someone else's shit around.

Strike three happened while counting his nest egg, and would you look at that! He had more money than he'd counted. Nothing ridiculous, just… He had those five bucks now.

All these little things were easy to miss, or misremember, but Bernard was not most people. But the catch here was… All these things were good things. Sort of.

So not only was this happening when he wasn't around, but they were happening to his… Advantage? He'd even call it good fortune if one was willing to ignore the lack of privacy… And maybe he would have, if this wasn't Gotham. Privacy was a mix between a luxury and a currency. Sometimes a kindness.

In some ways maybe it would have been an effective scare tactic, to mess someone's shit up, but this was not the way he'd personally go about it if he wanted someone to leave the building.

So here Bernard was, staring again at the dishes he had placed as bait, because he wasn't an idiot and tempting a ghost into anything remotely violent was stupid. The dishes were cleaned.

He squinted at the ceiling, then at the rest of his apartment, trying to gauge whether trying to make first contact was going to get him more haunted, killed, or turn him into a Saturday morning cartoon.

Finally, he picked up a cup. Not a glass cup, because why would he give the ghost any ammunition, but a couple of fairly clear plastic cups, a marker, two sticky notes, and filled both cups with tap water decently enough so a mild tremble would be noticeable.

The first sticky note said "Yes", and the second, predictably, said "No."

"So." Bernard sat in front of the cups, feeling halfway like a dumbass for doing this in the first place, and halfway like he's about to do the worst decision of his life because it might just work. "You from out of town, or are you just really shitty at this?"

[fatedroses]

Some body type references and notes I wanted to make, especially before I redraw some of my old pieces (plus, a bit of him as an adventurer having a crisis of a realization), and also just personally how I HC the change between stormblood to now based on some in game refs I've been looking at.

[fanaticalthings]

I know Wayne Manor probably looks as normal as possible to avoid visitors suspecting the family's past time activities..

but also I highly doubt Bruce was able to avoid making some obscure changes to the Manor just based on the fact that his children are fucking feral.

Some of the windows are either boarded up, or have cages on them from the inside, and to an onlooker, they'll probably think "Oh those poor kids, being caged inside like animals, unable to get fresh air. I always knew that Wayne guy was sketchy. "

but it's literally just because his kids won't stop launching themselves head-first out of the windows whenever Bruce is mid lecture. doesn't matter if they're on the 4th floor.

sometimes visitors will get a closer look at the inside of the place and see a lot of things baby proofed, which is weird because "Aren't all of Wayne's kids old enough to not get themselves hurt like babies do?"

No, Sharon, do not underestimate the power of 6 hyperactive children combined in a room together, they will absolutely get themselves hurt in some way.

some furniture and objects are just straight up bolted to the floor, and everyone just assumes Bruce is a perfectionist or a micromanager, but Bruce literally had no other option since his fucking kids keep throwing shit at each other, and sometimes they just do it to get the other's attention or because they just felt like it. Sometimes they'll even throw each other

I just need some DC comics that acknowledge that the Manor has some additional features that were integrated after Bruce's countless experiences with each new weird ass child he gains.

[hawkinsbnbg]

It was a well-known secret that Jonathan Byers sold Steve Harrington’s photos at cutthroat prices to the students of Hawkins High.

People wanted to get mad at it but a picture of shirtless Steve in tiny green shorts was enough to silence their protests.

Although his buyers ranged from all genders, Jonathan wasn’t surprised at all. Because he, too, was a victim of that Harrington Charm—the very reason he had started collecting every picture of Steve in the first place.

His side business was just a front for him to do so without being harrassed by Tommy H. who, ironically, was one of his regulars.

And why was it a well-known secret?

Well, because Steve had no idea about it.

In a rare sense of solidarity, the whole school had joined forces and done their best to keep their king out of the loop.

(Even Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson—who loved to run his mouth—seemed to understand the gravity of the situation and managed to keep the secret.)

Jonathan had never enjoyed photography more in his life.

When Steve eventually figured it out, he was surprisingly willing to let Jonathan take more… audacious photos of him.

Suffice to say, the profit had skyrocketed once Jonathan found the right group of customers.

(i.e. Eddie Munson had paid for the Bunny Collection with three bags of weeds, Tommy H. had paid a hefty amount for more Stockings, and Billy Hargrove kept coming back for Higheels & Lipstick.)

[astrowarr]

feel so fucking insane about pearl devoting her life to making sure her friends win. she has people who care about her again and after knowing what it means to be utterly alone she would rather die a thousand times over than live without them

this is what sets her apart from the other winners, especially grian and martyn: she knows what it is to survive, to be left alone with nothing but smoke in her hair and blood on her hands, and she will never go back there. she'll die before she does.

she builds homes, pets dogs, picks her people. she spends her time in their company— she wears no iron armor. she hovers; do you need anything, how can i help? really, she's saying this: what is there for me to leave you when i die? because all she learned from winning is that the world is deafeningly quiet without pool parties and warden shenanigans, and there is no victory in standing alone

[nina-ya]

A/N: Just a little something I wrote to procrastinate instead of working CW: Smut, AFAB Reader, Penetrative sex WC: 874

Thinking about needy Law who seeks you out when he is overcome by his urges. It doesn’t matter where you are or what you are doing; his visceral need to be inside of you overtakes all other priorities.

He walks up behind you, his presence an unexpected but welcomed interruption to whatever you happened to be doing at the time. He wraps his arms around your torso to hold you tight against him, the warmth of his breath tickling against your skin coupled with the soft pressure of his lips on your neck sending shivers down your spine. As his kisses trail down your neck and your shoulder, you can feel his breathing starting to get heavier as his craving grew. 

Law’s hands begin to explore your body, touching and squeezing every inch that he could get to. You ask what he is doing, a smile evident in your voice, only to be met with the vibrations of his voice against your neck as he whines out something about wanting you. 

He uses one of his hands to turn your face towards him and capture your mouth in a deep kiss– slipping his tongue into your mouth with small sighs and sounds of pleasure being pulled from deep within him. You find yourself turning around to face him, succumbing to the urge to fill his needs. 

His hands trail down your sides until they reach your thighs, lifting you effortlessly as he places you onto a nearby surface– a counter, a table, wherever his needs take you. He would grip your thighs and roll his hips against yours, seeking any kind of friction. The grinding builds a growing heat between you two, accompanied by whimpers that escape your mouth which would be swallowed by his own.

Desperation fuels Law’s mutterings of ‘please’ or ‘I need you’ against your lips as he grips at the fabric of your pants, pleading you to let him continue. When you give him the go-ahead, he wastes no time in discarding your bottoms.

Your hands work with urgency, quickly freeing him from the constraints of his pants. As you grasp his cock, a guttural moan escapes his lips and his forehead falls against yours. His breathing comes out in ragged pants as your teasing touch elicits desperate moans from deep within him. Law’s own hand finds its way to the core of your own desire, his fingers gliding along your wetness with focus and precision, occasionally circling that bundle of nerves that has you whimpering out and leaning into his touch.

As you swipe the head of his dick, thumb smearing his precum across the tip, Law responds with a sharp gasp and a shaky moan, his fingers jolting and pressing against your clit in the process. His hot breath against your skin blends with your own shared gasp and moans that fill the air from the lewd acts.

Law wraps his hand around yours and guides himself to your entrance, wetting himself with your arousal. With a desperate need, he slides into you, each thrust a rough, intense motion that expresses the deepness of his desires. His face presses into your shoulder, muffling his whimpers against you as he loses himself in the feeling of you squeezing him so tightly around him.

Law’s hands find their place on your hips, pulling you against him with each forceful thrust. Whimpers and moans spill from his lips, filling the air with declarations of his pleasure and need. “Fuck… f-feels so good… can’t stop,” he whimpers, his hips pounding into yours faster and harder with each passing moment. “You feel too good, I need you so bad.”

Law’s thrusts grow needier, his rhythm more frenzied and his hips slam into yours as he gets closer and closer to the edge. Your own moans fill the room along with the sound of skin slapping against skin. Each thrust sends a jolt through your body, and you can feel his cock roughly dragging in and out of you as he fervently moves.

Law’s desperate whimpers fill the air, a string of curses paired with every motion. “Fuck, fuck, s-so close, ah,” he frantically whimpers, his movements becoming more erratic. In a final intense moment, he speeds up when suddenly a deep groan escapes him as he stills within you.

The warmth of his release floods you as hot ropes of his cum shoots into you. His grip on your thighs loosens, and his hips lazily roll into yours as he rides the aftershocks of his climax.

As Law gradually recovers from his climax, his breathing begins to steady. He does not show any signs of pulling away, though. Instead, he presses gentle kisses along the curve of your neck, each kiss soft and lingering against your skin. 

“You felt amazing,” he mumbles against your neck, his voice dripping with satisfaction. His hands begin to explore your body once again, tracing patterns against your skin. “I think it’s only fair that I owe you something for that.” His hand follows a gentle path down your body until he reaches your core once more. A light press of your clit pairs with a gasp escaping you. “What can I do to repay the favor, him?”

[iknowwhereyousnoozeatnight]

they needed a shorter chain tbh

[hyakunana]

Late night art feat the most miserable man that ever stepped in DGP

[amazinglyegg]

Due to not being able to find a decent reference for Danse's room, I used this video to sketch out a floor plan!!

Along with references for what all the furniture looks like:

Details and rambling below the cut!

General notes:

The only time we see his room is after Blind Betrayal. I wonder if he brought anything from his room with him, despite leaving the duffle bag near the door?

He has a ton of storage space. Like, a lot. He doesn't even have a footlocker at the end of his bed it's just an entire metal box.

Despite that, he has nowhere to sit. Not even his desk has a chair.

Also he has a rug between his bed and his big drawer! Cute!

Pet food bowl near his door with fresh bloatfly meat in it. Not only does he manually open the door for Emmett to enter and leave (no cat door), but Emmett visits often enough that he goes out of his way to give him a bowl of fresh food! Does Quinlan even feed him!?

Has a lot of random cardboard boxes filled with papers and stuff on his floor. Given that the filing cabinet is for files, I wonder if these are books or journals?

Has a plain old bed with no pillows or blankets. Like most beds, this is probably done for game reasons (like animations or clipping) instead of canon reasons. At least I HOPE he sleeps with a blanket!!

On top of his safe is three dog food cans, maybe supposed to represent cat food. Also has a can of cram on his big drawer. I wonder if he stores more food in there!

The flag is actually a smaller one, but I couldn't find the exact model on the wiki. I find it interesting that he has a pole flag instead of a regular wall one. It just looks so sad :(

Has a lot of small blue and wood boxes around his room that I didn't include in the floor plan, they're empty I'm pretty sure

I didn't realize people outside of middle school used lockers, especially SIX of them. What do you even store in lockers?? Can't be clothes since they have multiple segments, hung clothes wouldn't fit and folded clothes would probably fall out.

No real personal stuff like holotapes or journal entries. I would have expected something unique! He also has no decorations other than that one sad droopy flag, but I guess it'd be hard to hang up paintings when the walls are made of metal. Can't just hammer a nail into that!

As a note, I think items within storage containers are randomized, so I didn't bother looking at them while making this.

Desk and filing cabinet:

Whisky and vodka bottles, no shot glass in sight. He is chugging those straight from the bottle. Not as many bottles as Maxson, at least!

Also an entire carton of cigarettes and an ashtray. He canonically smokes and doesn't even bother going outside to do it, his room must reek of cigarettes.

A food tray and mug, which is... interesting? Does he often eat alone in his room?

Filing cabinet for files, probably does paperwork at this desk as well.

Drawers:

Has like, three wrenches, as well as a tool box. This must be his workshop!

A lunch pail and a nuka cola. This table is right next to his desk so it makes sense he has food and drinks here. Surprised there's no water!

Speaking of the table... it's an institute table. Probably just done for aesthetic purposes, but I found that interesting

Let me know if you have any opinions, headcanons, or things I missed!

[porcalinecunt]

okay but hear me out on ftm! stripper! reader and red hood! jason todd…

you giving him a lap dance while he gets all handsy with you, or you getting him drunker n drunker until his brain is dead and he’s only thinking with his leaking cock that’s gonna fuck you full until you can’t sit for a week..

[jesncin]

Oh, I love this interpretation of Goldie! It gives you a lot of room to play in the space, especially if you contrast it with Golden Boy. Absolutely love it 🤍

Thank you, I'm glad you like Goldie!! And that's true, Golden Boy could still exist in my reimagining since he's from an alternate dimension where he survived and John didn't. He'd be pretty amused at the thought of sentimentally clinging to a lost twin- since he believes in survival being "my right and due".

[thelastharbinger]

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*I’m sighing*

*takes a long, deep breath* So yeah this is Tenoch excitedly squealing “It’s today!” with flailing arms and I’m doing totally fine, thanks for asking.

[noe-clara69]

If tsc has made me realize anything, it is that we need to portray Neil way more feral and cutthroat in fan media

[agenttommykinard]

as someone from the Midwest, they did not give Bobby Nash enough Midwesternisms