#UnCONventional comic

[traegorn]

What's better than those generic tourist T-shirts with a town's name on it? A generic tourist T-shirt with a fake town's name on it! Get your Peregrine Lake, WI t-shirts today!

(also go read Peregrine Lake while you're at it)

[hajihiko]

[glitter-alienz]

put the ice bag back on pls 🙏🏾

[Next]

[TMNTOV Masterpost]

this is a classic case of donnie hurting raph's feeling by calling her stupid or something like that. then regretting it immediately bcuz raph will aim for your face. it's just siblings being siblings btw, im sure some of yall have a raph or a donnie in your life.

[allthegothihopgirls]

jason parenting damian but in the most "pub dad" mixed with frat boy kind of way. if you even care

[ahfrickenfrick]

i’m tired of the hot tim drake agenda, i want him to be on people unconventional celebrity crush lists

when someone tells someone else that he is on their list, they go through the 12 stages of grief before ending with ‘yeah same probably’

because he just gives off the drowned white boy thing that some people really enjoy rn

[cantheykillmacbeth]

Could spiders-man (the collective of spiders that believe that they are Peter Parker) kill Macbeth ?

Yes, Spiders-Man from the Marvel Comics could kill Macbeth!

Spiders-Man is the product of Peter Parker falling into and being consumed by a giant swarm of radioactive spiders. These spiders were an experiment done by Max Modell in Horizon Labs. Peter's consciousness imprinted on the swarm as a sort of template, and now the swarm is of the belief that they, as a collective hive mind, are Peter Parker.

Since they identify the same as Peter Parker, the swarm does not apply for the Gender Clause. However, due to the circumstances of Spiders-Man's creation, we can safely assume they apply for the Unconventional Birth Clause and Birth Parent Clause, the latter being true regardless of whether you attribute their creation to Parker or to Modell.

Thank you for your submission!

[theratking-heheheheheh]

: Red hood was jumped in a warehouse and a teenage girl who is too good for this world helped him out:

Oracle through comms: Redhood come in!

Jason: you have got to be joking…

Ms. Marvel: hello!

Jason muttering to himself: Tim had worried about a girl in primary colours?!

Ms. Marvel: …you can’t talk Deadpool knock off-and THESE are hero colours!

Dude, if Gotham had Ms. Marvel The crime rate would be 0%. Let’s be honest. She is all about the people. And goddamnit Gotham citizens need her.

Also pertaining to the supposed crossover fic she would be so angry that there was already a captain Marvel in the verse let alone a man child literally.

[flowerbloom-arts]

So, uh, I got re-obsessed with Melanie Martinez (I was a major fan back in middle school but fell out of it for some unknown reason) starting from a month ago and it's gotten to the point where I just HAD to draw fanart for the first time.

[loupy-mongoose]

Just gonna... leave this here...

[discordzero]

Chapters: 1/1

Fandom: DCU, Batman - All Media Types, Devil May Cry (Gameverse)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Relationships: Stephanie Brown & Cassandra Cain, Cassandra Cain & Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne, Cassandra Cain & Dick Grayson, Stephanie Brown & Jason Todd

Characters: Stephanie Brown, Cassandra Cain, Dick Grayson, Damian Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth, Mentioned Jason Todd - Character, mentioned Duke Thomas - Character, mentioned Tim drake - Character

Additional Tags: Hurt Stephanie Brown, Hurt Cassandra Cain, Hurt Damian Wayne, Implied/Referenced Torture, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Self-Mutilation, of the devil may cry variety, damian's severed hand is used as a weapon, this au is not fully fleshed out but i think about it a lot, author is pulling dmc lore from memory Summary:

Wiping the blood, her own and Damian’s, from her eyes meant she saw Steph run toward a light just over the hill with a speed that no one in her condition should have been capable of. Cass heard Steph laughing like they were kids again just playing tag in this very backyard.

[bearforceone3]

some alien lantern doodles

[traegorn]

Sometimes I miss writing UnCONventional. Like, I'm glad I ended it when I did -- it was the right time to close the story out. But with fixing the website and getting print collection stuff together... I found myself missing my old characters.

When you spend a decade with a cast of fake people in your head every day, you don't realize how real they end up feeling.

At least I still get to spend time writing Lynn and Megan in Peregrine Lake since they carry over to the new comic. But I miss Sarah and Ruth and Veronica and Max.

Don't really miss Tara.

[sheena-is-a-punk-rocker]

Sometimes brains are assholes, and that's okay

Got a prompt request for a Rick sick fic with Harley taking care of him over on AO3 and this is what I came up with. Not your typical sick fic!

The apartment is dark when Harley gets back from her roller derby match—the first one Rick’s missed since she got out of prison. She’s trying not to be too broken up about it though, he told her before she left that he wasn’t feeling well and was gonna try to nap.

She drops her skates and padding by the front door and makes her way to the bedroom, expecting to find Rick dozing in bed. Except the only thing on the bed is the rumpled sheets that haven’t been touched since this morning.

She starts to panic. He wouldn’t just leave without telling her—that’s not like him.

The only option left is the bathroom. The door is ajar but the lights are off. “Rick? Baby, you in here?” she calls out cautiously as she flicks the lights on—trying not to imagine the worst.

“Ow!” she hears. “Too bright!”

She breathes a sigh of relief now that she can see Rick—who’d managed to squeeze all six foot one inch of himself into their tiny ass bathtub.

She turns the lights off and uses the moonlight shining through the bathroom window to find the tub. She kneels down and reaches out to touch his back. His shirt is soaked with sweat and he’s shaking a little bit. “You okay, hun?” she asks—immediately shifting into what Rick has dubbed her Doctor Mode.

“Migraine,” he grits out.

Ah yes, those pesky migraines he’s been having. Not surprising given the fact that he’s had four concussions since she met him—and that’s just on missions they were on together. He hasn’t had one in a while though.

“Baby, I thought your doctor gave you meds for those.”

“Ran out. Thought I had a refill but I don’t. I’ve been trying to get a hold of him to get an emergency refill but he won’t pick up the fucking phone—as usual. Fucker probably doesn’t even think I need ‘em. And eventually the headache got so bad that I ended up in here.”

Here, meaning where it’s darkest and coolest, she realizes.

“Did ya try the pharmacy?” she asks, as she runs a washcloth under the faucet.

“They won’t fucking refill it unless the doc pushes it through!” he yells, and then moans as another wave of nausea hits him.

She places the cold washcloth on the back of his neck and he lets out a sigh of relief.

“I’ll be right back, hun. Where’s your phone?”

“Living room, I think.”

She kisses his temple before leaving the bathroom. Time to yell at another doctor.

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

Rick focuses on his breathing and trying not to vomit as Harley leaves to presumably yell at another one of his doctors. Honestly, as much as he appreciates her, he’s not really sure how much further she’ll get. He’d been on the phone with the pharmacy and doctor’s office for hours. They just kept putting him on hold.

“How’d I get your personal cell phone number? I’m Harley fucking Quinn, motherfucker! Now push the prescription through or I’ll break your kneecaps—pharmacy closes in an hour.”

Maybe he spoke too soon.

He hears her come back in and feels her fingers carding through his hair. “I’ll be right back, baby. Gotta go pick up your meds.”

The room continues to spin as he lays there pathetically in the bathtub. He’s not sure how long Harley’s gone for—could be hours for all he knows. He’s too nauseous to focus on anything but not puking.

“Sit up for me, hun.”

“I don’t wanna,” he moans. “Too dizzy.”

“I know, baby, I know. But I got your meds right here. You’ll feel better, I promise.”

It takes a monumental effort to sit up but he manages to do it. Harley hands him two pills and a glass of ice water. He throws the pills back obediently and then sinks back down to the floor of the tub, laying on his side since it’s so fucking tiny.

He hears some shuffling behind him and then Harley’s squeezing herself behind him, spooning up against his back and looping an arm around his chest. They both barely fit but instead of feeling claustrophobic he feels comforted, and safe.

“It should kick in faster since I gave ya two,” she says quietly—slipping a hand under his shirt to rub his chest and stomach softly.

He focuses on that feeling as he waits for the nausea to subside and his head to stop pounding.

Next thing he knows he’s being shaken awake. “C’mon, baby, let’s get ya into bed.”

“But I’m comfy,” he whines—and truly, he is. The most comfortable place he’s ever been is wrapped up in Harley’s arms.

“Baby you’re gonna hurt your neck if ya sleep in the tub.”

He complains the whole time but lets her pull him out of the tub, stumbling a little as the blood rushes back to all the right places. She catches him easily and guides him back to their bedroom in the dark. She sits him down on the bed and rummages around in one of his drawers for a pair of pajama pants that she throws at his head. He catches them and manages to change into them without too much trouble.

She ushers him under the covers and slides in behind him—spooning up against his back again and kissing the back of his neck. “Get some sleep, hun, I’m right here. I ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

“Might need to knock me out with your baseball bat,” he jokes, even as his eyes drift shut.

“Shut the fuck up—I know you’re exhausted, asshole.”

He manages a small chuckle. Just before sleep claims him he feels Harley squeeze him around his middle and hears her whisper, “I love ya, baby.”

He’s too exhausted to echo the sentiment back but grabs her hand and squeezes it in response.

He falls asleep to the feeling of Harley’s breath on the back of his neck and her hand wrapped tightly in his.

[spaceferren-comics]

Ancient Beauty <3

[prowerprojects]

One of my favourite things in stc is when Sonic goes back in time and we get to see the echidnas and they're all wearing little outfits (including Knuckles himself); and you're left with the realization that Knux in the present day is going around butt naked. Like. We already knew that technically but now it kinda gets thrown into your face.

(And like just the fact that everyone in the stc world wears clothes except for like 10 dudes who all know each other and it's like their little nudist club)

[kalpforest]

A private investigator whose an avatar of the hunt. He's constantly thinking about the chase about the next clue about the next suspect about what they say about how to solve the case. Its not about the knowledge or the truth its purely about the chase of it all about the well, the hunt. All sense of professionalism dropping as the case continues, devolving from jotting notes into a notebook to scratching them into the walls around him.

Finding the culprit and fully succumbing to the fear, pressing further and further for another layer to the mystery another mastermind behind it.