pinkrobinontheloose

[pinkrobinontheloose]

Love love love characters that present themselves as emotionally open social butterflies but the more you see of them the more obvious it is that they’re the most closed off fuckers in the story. Sure, they want to help you with your personal problems and messy emotions, but if you turn that shit back on them, they’ll shut down or deflect every time. Why are you sticking your nose in their business anyway? It’s not like it matters. They’re not a person, they’re just a role being played. They’re the guy who fixes things and saves people. Please ignore the man behind the mask, he’s fine. Everything’s fine.

[pinkrobinontheloose]

your unreliable narrator fucking bit me

[pinkrobinontheloose]

The tragedy of my life is that I keep acquiring and displaying fetish art and having to be corrected by my friends.

Most recently, a friend came over my house and saw my computer background and went, "Wow, um, I didn't know you were into that." To which I look at the picture of the well drawn muscular female minotaur in historically accurate Greek clothing and I start geeking out about how I love the detail the artist did with the clothing and I point out the period appropriate folds and pins, how the artist even inserted the native plant that was used to dye the clothing this particular shade in the background, and even how the belt has technology AND historically accurate weaving patterns on it.

Then I start explaining how I love the muscular choices of the minotaur, that I was so impressed with the artist's anatomically correct depiction of the muscles converging into the neck. That many people get an upright cow's neck wrong because cow's don't have collarbones, so it can be very difficult to merge the upper arms and a chest of a human with a cow's body. I draw her attention to the beautiful way they've merged the pectoralis major so smoothly while also staying true to how muscular they've depicted the rest of the body.

I finish up with my thoughts on the artist's bold choice to depict the minotaur as a female, and despite the underlying themes of a minotaur being violence, child murder, strength, and muscles. I segue into how unlike bulls, cow are perceived as mothers. That they are the major source of milk in human culture, and that idyllic depictions of them in a field usually depict calves frolicking nearby, yet the minotaur kills and eats children.

I finish and there is a long pause.

"Urban, this is fetish art." and she takes me to the artist's twitter and god dammit it's fetish art, not a bold statement on cultural perceptions of women and violence throughout history. I have been tricked again.

[pinkrobinontheloose]

Kon: Why are you staring at me so intently?

Tim, completely casually: I think I want to stab you with Kryptonite a few times. In different areas. For science.

Kon: ...why is my best friend considering torturing me?

Tim: I'm wondering if it takes you down so badly because it is truly that dangerous to you or if the invulnerablility of Kryptonians gives you a weak pain tolerance.

Kon: And you're asking me, a half human, instead of Clark or Kara?

Tim: They'd start telling Bruce about my "concerning villainous behavior" again.

Kon: And I won't?

Tim: I've kept fighting through pneumonia, a gunshot wound, and broken bones. And you go down when I poke you with a rock. Come on, you've got to be curious.

Kon: ...okay, I am a little curious.

Tim: YES! You won't regret this!

Kon: I will absolutely regret this.

[pinkrobinontheloose]

i do love the idea of the Justice League finding out Batman’s identity and the fact that he’s actually just a tired vigilante dad and immediately discrediting his spooky-scary-intimidating reputation, and Bruce just being devastated about it. he worked so hard on that reputation, on that respect, and it’s all down the drain just like that. nobody flinches away from his glare anymore, because they’ve seen him glare at Red Hood and get a spoonful of mashed potato flung into his face for the effort. nobody cares about his threats anymore, because he tried to threaten Red Robin to go home and rest one time and Tim just giggled at him deliriously before mocking his tone and stealing his coffee. they’ve seen him pick a splinter out of a whining Nightwing’s finger mid-meeting. Damian once called him a condomless harlot to his face when he told him not to bring his swords onto the watchtower. he’s lost control.

he decides he wants the fear factor back and in all his brilliant genius, he decides the best way to go about that is to invite the league round for a fancy dinner party, specifically so he can use all his ‘brucie wayne’ acting skills to channel the essence of every creepy-rich-guy-in-haunted-manor movie he has ever seen in his life. it is the only time his kids have been fully onboard and willing to contribute to one of his plans without any complaints. they almost seemed more eager to pull it off than he was.

they spend the entire day making the manor look old and slightly abandoned, much to Alfred’s displeasure, and ensure that the only lighting is a fuck ton of candles, just enough to light the halls while leaving the corners and edges shadowy and ominous. Damian is allowed to have some of his more ‘skittery’ pets roam the manor freely for the night, causing occasional scritches and scratches to come from the ceilings. all of the kids dress in their best funeral attire, apart from Jason who gleefully pulls on an old white shirt stained with blood from when Tim crashed through his window with a stab wound, requesting a medkit.

when the league arrive they’re greeted by all the kids lined up on the staircase, staring at them blankly and ominously, while Bruce gives them all a large grin and ushers them into the creepy looking dining room. the league are somewhat nervous.

during the dinner the kids act completely different than the league have seen them in-mask. polite, cordial, and refusing to show an ounce of emotion. they pick at their food and only speak in vague sentences that refer to various horrific events of their past. Bruce has never been prouder.

the first close call they have to breaking character is when Bruce presents a bottle of red wine without any kind of label. as he pours a slightly disturbed Diana a glass, she asks where he got it from. Bruce happily gestures to Jason as says ‘my second eldest procured it especially for you, earlier today.’

Diana looks across the table at where Jason is grinning eerily at her by candlelight, still visibly stained with blood, eyes glowing slightly green. she pales, and Tim knows he can’t watch her shakily lift the glass to her lips without bursting out laughing. he refuses to be the one who fucks up first, so he dramatically stands up and declares he must ‘go feed the experiments’ before storming out the room. ‘the experiments’ are in reference to the pen of rabbits outside that glow in the dark because Damian rescued them from a testing facility, but given the environmental context it sounds much more sinister.

Jason joins him by the pen to also start wheeze-crying in private about 20 minutes later, because apparently after Oliver Queen had finished with his bbq rib, Damian had leaned over and without blinking stared into his eyes to blankly state ‘i would love to feed your bones to my animal friends, if you don’t need them anymore.’ and from the other end of the table Jason had snorted wine up his nose from how hard he was trying not to break.

amazingly, they never break character, although it came pretty close when after hearing another skitter from somewhere above, Stephanie climbed up from the table into the crystal chandelier and deftly returned to present the table with a large tarantula cradled in her hands, to which Damian stood up and declared, ‘ah, dessert! i will help pennyworth prepare it.’ before taking the animal and leaving to put his beloved spider back in it’s enclosure. the league genuinely seemed to be under the impression they were about to be served a tarantula-based desert, and upon seeing their faces at this realisation Dick had to pretend he’d dropped a fork on the ground so he could duck by Bruce’s chair and stuff a napkin in his mouth while he got his laughter under control. Bruce pats his shaking son’s back below the table cloth, determinedly staring at their guests with that same creepy-grin he’d kept up the entire night.

every member of the league makes their excuses to leave early, much to Bruce’s exaggerated disappointment. the second the last of them is out the door Alfred turns to face the family and says ‘mission accomplished. now get this manor back to it’s proper state.’ and they have the spend the rest of the night cleaning.

totally worth it, in Bruce’s mind. none of the JL will look him in the eye for weeks afterwards, and it was honestly the most successful attempt at family bonding they’d ever had. he wonders if they should make it a monthly thing. It’s also how they find out Damian’s a fucking theatre kid with a gift for the arts which is another revelation in of itself

[pinkrobinontheloose]

a snippet from a fic i’m working on that i’ll hopefully be able to get out within the next few weeks!! viktor tells jayce a story about his childhood in the the undercity. i’m really enjoying exploring viktor’s motivations/upbringing, making myself cry over him 😭

—————————

“How do you know so much about this stuff?”

“Ah. That.” Viktor’s eyes soften, though only by a small measurement as he leans back over the map. His eyes search it for a moment like he’s trying to remember something, fingers running over the paper and landing on a small spot- a low crook in the fissures. It’s not too far from the lab actually, but it’s further down, buried deeper within the bedrock. He’s noted on the map that the grey is very potent there. “This. Is where I grew up,” he says slowly. “We had systems in place. We all knew how to fortify ourselves against it…though there were many of us who succumbed to it anyway.” His voice is quiet, but so eerily casual.

Jayce’s heart sinks, imagining a tiny Viktor surrounded by all that poison. It rips his heart in half. “You couldn’t leave?”

“No,” Viktor replies plainly. “It is not so easy when half of Zaun is already living five to a room.”

“Viktor, I- I had no idea. Fuck. I’m so sorry.” Whenever he’d imagined Viktor’s life in Zaun, he’d always assumed that he’d been molded by the pieces of it that he found so dangerous and alluring. The dim streets vibrant with fissure folk from all manners of life, flowing from business to business under the colorful glow of neon street signs. He never imagined this. He reaches out to touch Viktor's hand, his fingers brushing the skin lightly before resting on top of it fully. “That sounds…it sounds hopeless. That’s no way to grow up.”

Viktor’s eyes flash with annoyance before he settles on a soft, amused expression. “It was not without its challenges, but I certainly wouldn’t say we were hopeless.” His lips turn up slightly as he searches his mind, landing on a pleasant memory. “The other children and I. We would often pray to Janna. I assume you know of her?”

Jayce simply nods, waiting for him to continue.

“We would…hmm. We would write songs to her.” He chuckles. “Odes we called them. We sang to her, asking the same thing again and again in different variations of rhymes and tunes and tongues. We tried learning shuriman. Made paintings. Left our toys out on the street as offerings. All because we thought that if we said all the right words, did all the right things, she would bring clean air to our home. It was…a fairytale. but…” he trails off. A gleam of something unreadable in his eyes. “It made us feel like we were being looked after. Not by Piltover, but by something good. Like there was some force out there who would save us if we simply asked kindly enough.”

__________________

(spreading my agenda that the choir of children in “to ashes and blood” was supposed to represent viktor in his youth praying for clean air 🙏🙏🙏)

[pinkrobinontheloose]

this was me and the batfam

[pinkrobinontheloose]

Thinking about the person who said that Tim and Damian's stories are so tragic when compared to eachother because Damian got to learn that he wasn't a tool and all Tim ever got was confirmation that he was

So, I'm imagining a one-shot were Tim walks in on Bruce telling Damian that he'd do anything to make sure he could trust him and just absolutely LOSES it

Because when Tim was Robin, Bruce went out of his way to MAKE SURE Tim didn't trust him, and now he's going out of his way to make sure Damian does? What the FUCK! What happened to "I'll never trust you again" "Good" !??? What happened to making sure everyone has the same amount of trust issues as you???

Bonus points if Alfred catches some strays because it isn't often that he deserves that and this is one of those rare moments where he definitely DOES.

If Alfred ever DESERVES to catch strays, it's gotta be for Jason's Memorial Plaque (a good soldier??? Fuck you, Alfred!) And Tim's 16th birthday. And I *love* 16th birthday related angst.

I want to see Tim lose his cool in a way none of them have ever seen, I want him to scream and cry and throw stuff and then run away, I need it to be BAD

Tl;dr- I wanna see Bruce give Damian things he refused to give Tim and I want Tim to be rightfully upset about it

[pinkrobinontheloose]

what if this scene was worse

[pinkrobinontheloose]

There are moments in life that feel so structured and poetic that they feel less like reality and more like scripted fiction and I think that those are some of the most important ones to hold onto

[pinkrobinontheloose]

I love him

My favourite single mother

[pinkrobinontheloose]

You don't need a license to drive a sandwich

Someone: Hey how do you know so much about SpongeBob?

John, not wanting to admit he absorbed it from putting it on for the ghost of his twin: ..uh.

Chas doesn't understand John's extensive experience with the Spongebob Squarepants lore.

[pinkrobinontheloose]

This.

[pinkrobinontheloose]

I just don't compromise with new characters.

I like to see characters I love go through insane shit, in the most insane way, in a 6k fanfic

Sue me

'you never read anymore, you used to love reading' and i have 200 safari tabs open. it never stopped it just got weird

[pinkrobinontheloose]

One thing that freaked me out when I was little, was grown accustomed to watch something with subtitles on the TV and all of the sudden, a few days later, watching with dub in Spanish (is my first language).

I cried so hard the first time it happened that scared my uncle and he had to turn off the TV and take me to the garden to make sand cakes.

The reason? I thought someone changed the brain of my favorite character for another one who spoke Spanish but didn't sound like the character at all.

Later I was explained what happened in reality. Didn't make less upset. I only can watch certain cartoons in dub (cause that's are the ones I watched in that format) but don't you dare to give Dr. House in dub, I will eviscerate you alive

[pinkrobinontheloose]

T H I S

Treat the fan artist (in every shape or form) with respect, 'cause they're doing art because they want to not because they need to

Fanfic tiktok is wild... I see so many people saying shit like "I could never read anything below 60k!!", or "What story can you even tell in under 5k words?" or "A oneshot below 10k isn't even a story!" or "I always filter completed fics by 100k< only!"

And I'm like...

A) which fandoms are you reading fics for where you have this kind of offerings on the regular?

B) have you heard of short stories? If you truly think every story NEEDS to be longform to connect with people, I sincerely feel sorry for you.

C) Average novel length is between 50k to 100k. I'm sorry, but CONSISTENTLY demanding fic writers to push out fics of that length is insane. Just think about it: YOU DEMAND AUTHORS TO PUT OUT FICS THAT COMPARE TO COMMERCIAL NOVELS IN LENGTH (AND QUALITY) AS A BASELINE.

Yall are wilding.

[pinkrobinontheloose]

*crying*

sketchbook stuff