#ander imagine

[venuslarkspur]

I like to think that how Dick found out that a lot of the Titans slept with Batsis!reader was when he was sharing the gossip to them that his sister slept with nearly half of the JL members like

Dick: Man, can you believe my sister hooked up with Hal and Roy? So crazy. At least you guys aren't sleeping with my sister. :)

Cue most of the Titans giving each other super guilty and sheepish looks

Dick:.....None of you slept with my sister, right?....Right?

Wally:......In our defense-

Dick: Motherfuckers-

No literally THIS though

Especially if Batsis has slept with Kori as well.

LIKE ⬇️

Dick, watching as Batsis whoops Roy’s ass in training: Man I’m starting to think nobody can take Batsis!Reader.

Kori: What are you talking about? I can TAKE Batsis!Reader.

Dick: what are you talking about you cannot take my sister in a fight.

Kori: You meant in a fight?

Dick: …what did you think I meant?

——————

Or if Wally and Batsis!Reader start dating

And the rest of the Titans are just like: damn this hoe got lucky.

——————

Batsis To Roy: You know out of Dick, You Myself, Kory and Donna it’s just you and Dick that haven’t kissed yet, excluding myself and my brother of course.

Roy: Damn you’re right- …wait you and Donna?

Batsis: :)

[proffbon]

NATHANIEL HOWE

[breadedsinner]

"The way the DA2 cast treats Anders about being joined with a spirit vs the way DATV cast treats Lucanis about being joined with a spirit is upsetting" well maybe if Anders caramelized some onions instead of talking down to literally everyone we wouldn't be in this mess.

[nosyrobin]

||BEING THE LITTLE BROTHER OF STARFIRE AND BLACKFIRE HEADCANNONS||

Pair: slight robin x reader and beast boy x reader

Running from home to land onto the planet earth, finding your big sister Starfire! You’re happy, you’re overwhelmed with joy! Your big sister blackfire had lied saying that Starfire had basically died. But now you know it was all a lie.

Speaking the native language of Tamaran, the team was just looking confused. Starfire then pointed to Robin. You nodded with a smile and kissed the boy wonder who seemed shocked. He felt shivers go down his spine when the kiss ended. “Hello friends! I am Y/N!” Robin, still in shock while the others introduced themselves.

It took some time for Robin to observe you, a Tamaranean male who looks similar to Starfire herself. Your outfit was either the same like Starfire’s but masculine or a mixture of whatever you were wearing. Either way, he set you up for a test to see how far you can go. Starfire was so happy to see her friends liking her little brother. She immediately showed you the condiment of mustard, telling you it’s amazing. Robin and the others weee disgusted seeing the alien siblings drink mustard with a happy smile.

Robin is easily impressed by your powers just like Starfire’s, he knows he couldn’t be impressed. But the way you use your powers was just something he couldn’t help but smile.

Robin doesn’t mind you being around, with months going by he still ask how you are doing on earth and how you are.

Robin stares, memorized whenever you pull off a trick you learned yourself

Beast bro is sometimes seen as a small animal on your lap, you let him and coo. Making him rub himself against your body with a goofy smile.

Beast boy jokingly calls you “Prince, my Prince, my majesty.” And such, all because you are also Royal like your sisters. Though he couldn’t help but blush when you kiss his cheek in gratitude for making you laugh.

He’s definitely gonna buy a joke book.

You and Starfire mixed together are a dangerous combo, especially with Tamaranean fighting tactics.

It’s been months with you staying here, Robin didn’t want to immediately make you an official member of the team. But with how you showed your loyalty and love for the team and team members. He pulled you aside, a soft smile on his face as he puts a communicator with a T on it.

You were officially the newest member of the team!

[albaharu]

the kirkwall gang

[iaminjail]

i usually hate gc/twitter aus but @garpen 's is so funny im in love with it like omg.

n e ways i saw ppl drawing dickkory on their wedding day and i couldn't withstand the urge. i care them sm <3

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Announcing the Picks and Shovels book tour

This week only, Barnes and Noble is offering 25% off pre-orders of my forthcoming novel Picks and Shovels.

My next novel, Picks and Shovels, is officially out in the US and Canada on Feb 17, and I'm about to leave on a 20+ city book-tour, which means there's a nonzero chance I'll be in a city near you between now and the end of the spring!

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250865908/picksandshovels

Picks and Shovels is a standalone novel starring Martin Hench – my hard-charging, two-fisted, high-tech forensic accountant – in his very first adventure, in the early 1980s. It's a story about the Weird PC era, when no one was really certain what shape PCs should be, who should make them, who should buy them, and what they're for. It features a commercial war between two very different PC companies.

The first one, Fidelity Computing, is a predatory multi-level marketing faith scam, run by a Mormon bishop, a Catholic priest, and an orthodox rabbi. Fidelity recruits people to exploit members of their faith communities by selling them third-rate PCs that are designed as rip-off lock-ins, forcing you to buy special floppies for their drives, special paper for their printers, and to use software that is incompatible with everything else in the world.

The second PC company is Computing Freedom, a rebel alliance of three former Fidelity Computing sales-managers: an orthodox woman who's been rejected by her family after coming out as queer; a Mormon woman who's rejected the Church over its opposition to the Equal Rights Amendment, and a nun who's quit her order to join the Liberation Theology movement in the struggle for human rights in America's dirty wars.

In the middle of it all is Martin Hench, coming of age in San Francisco during the PC bubble, going to Dead Kennedys shows, getting radicalized by ACT UP!, and falling in love – all while serving as CFO and consigliere to Computing Freedom, as a trade war turns into a shooting war, and they have to flee for their lives.

The book's had fantastic early reviews, with endorsements from computer historians like Steven Levy (Hackers), Claire Evans (Broad-Band), John Markoff (What the Doormouse Said) and Dan'l Lewin (CEO of the Computer History Museum). Stephen Fry raved that he "hugely enjoyed" the "note perfect," "superb" story.

And I'm about to leave on tour! I have nineteen confirmed dates, and two nearly confirmed dates, and there's more to come! I hope you'll consider joining me at one of these events. I've got a bunch of fantastic conversation partners joining me onstage and online, and the bookstores that are hosting me are some of my favorite indie booksellers in the world.

BOSTON (Feb 14): Boskone, 4PM, Westin Boston Seaport District

BOSTON (Feb 14): Brookline Booksmith with KEN LIU, 7PM, 279 Harvard Street, Brookline

VIRTUAL (Feb 15): YANIS VAROUFAKIS, sponsored by Jacobin and hosted by David Moscrop, 10AM Pacific, 1PM Eastern, 6PM UK, 7PM CET

MENLO PARK (Feb 17): Kepler’s Books with CHARLIE JANE ANDERS, 7PM, 1010 El Camino Real

LOS ANGELES (Feb 18): Diesel Bookstore with WIL WHEATON, 630PM, 225 26th Street, Santa Monica

SEATTLE (Feb 19): Third Place Books with DAN SAVAGE, 7PM, 17171 Bothell Way NW Lake Forest Park

TORONTO (Feb 23): Another Story, 630PM, 315 Roncesvalles Ave

NYC (Feb 26): The Strand with JOHN HODGMAN, 7PM, 828 Broadway

PENN STATE (Feb 27): Kern Auditorium, 7PM, 112 Kern Building

DOYLESTOWN (Mar 1): Doylestown Bookshop, 12PM, 16 S Main St

BALTIMORE (Mar 2): Red Emma’s, 2PM, 630PM, 3128 Greenmount Ave

DC (Mar 4): Cleveland Park Library with MATT STOLLER, 630PM, 3310 Connecticut Ave NW

RICHMOND (Mar 5): Fountain Bookstore with LEE VINSEL, 6PM, 1312 E Cary St

AUSTIN (Mar 10): First Light Books, 7PM, 4300 Speedway/43rd

BURBANK (Mar 13): Dark Delicacies, 6PM, 822 N. Hollywood Way

SAN DIEGO (Mar 24): Mysterious Galaxy, 7PM, 3555 Rosecrans

BELFAST (Mar 24) (remote): Imagine! Festival with ALAN MEBAN, 7PM UK

CHICAGO, Apr 2: Exile in Bookville with PETER SAGAL, 7PM, 410 S Michigan Ave, 2nd floor

BLOOMINGTON, Apr 4: Morgenstern Books, 6PM, 642 N Madison St

PDX, Jun 20 (TBC): Powell’s Books (date and time to be confirmed)

I'm also finalizing plans for one or two dates in NEW ZEALAND at the end of April, as well as a ATLANTA date, likely on March 26.

I really hope you'll come out and say hello. I know these are tough times. Hanging out with nice people who care about the same stuff as you is a genuine tonic.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2025/02/06/picks-and-shovels-tour/#19-cities-plus-plus

[knightsquire]

Rip Anders you would've loved running around Docktown petting cats

[kirkwallguy]

magic (and the lack of it)

Justice needs a healer. Anders is always happy to help. [written for day one of @andersweek2025 ! minor tw for mentions of wounds / needles, and one brief reference to suicide] read on ao3

“Mage, I seek your counsel.”

Anders looked up from his book - he’d been enjoying a rare moment of quiet beside the fire while the Warden Commander was attending to business in the city. Usually he went with her, revelling in the chance to walk through the markets without having to watch his back constantly; but he was still licking his wounds after a drunken argument with Oghren the night before and didn’t fancy trading jabs for the rest of the day. That dwarf was ruthless when he was hungover.

Justice had stayed behind as well. Walking corpses weren’t often welcome in cities. Anders could sympathise.

Looking at him now as he hesitated in the doorway, it was hard to see him for what he was. He shuffled awkwardly, shifting his weight from foot to foot – he had once confided in Anders that this was a mannerism he’d learned by observing low ranking soldiers stationed at the keep. It was oddly sweet to think of him standing in front of the mirror, practicing his movements, wondering which made him look the most human.

“I have a name you know,” Anders said, snapping his book shut and propping himself up on one elbow, “I’m not defined by my mage-iness.”

Justice stilled, an unreadable expression on his face, “my apologies, Anders.”

Teasing Justice was almost criminally easy - if the heart in Kristoff’s chest had pumped blood, he might have even blushed. Anders softened and put his book down, patting the space beside him on the rug.

“Come here and tell Anders your woes,” he cooed, stretching lazily. He wasn’t trying to flirt – not really, anyway – but he couldn’t help feeling a little curious. Who wouldn’t be? Kristoff had had a wife, did those same urges still exist in there somewhere? 

Seemingly not. Justice crossed the room to stand beside the fire for a second before plopping down on the rug, arranging himself so he sat cross-legged and stiff-backed. Up close, it was even easier to tell that he didn’t need to breathe or blink. Eerie.

Justice ducked his head, “I require your assistance with a personal matter.”

“Oh?”

“You are trained in the art of healing, are you not? I need-” Justice paused for a moment, struggling to find the words, “my body is damaged.”

Anders looked at him, “we do have an infirmary, you know. You might prefer it there – I have a terrible bedside manner.”

“I would rather you look.”

He seemed nervous, staring directly into Anders’ eyes as the Warden Commander had taught him to. 

“Alright,” Anders sighed, sitting up straight and gesturing vaguely, “whip it out and let me see.”

Carefully, Justice unfolded himself and rolled up the sleeve of his left arm; he’d taken to wearing a simple shirt and breeches around the keep when not in armour, having found them beneath his pillow in the dormitory. They accentuated his sunken features, making him look even more skeletal than usual.

In the wavering firelight, Justice’s skin looked almost alive. Anders leaned forward to study it. At first it was hard to see what he was supposed to be looking at - the flesh of his arm was gnarled and warped, stomach-turning reminiscent of the many blight victims Anders had come across in the past few months. 

After a moment, Anders’ eyes fell on a large gash just below his inner elbow. Had he been alive, it would have been gushing blood – spurting, even, if it was as deep as it appeared – but without a working circulatory system, it could only weep sadly.

“Makers’ breath!” Anders couldn’t help recoiling slightly, “when did you do that?”

Justice looked down at the wound, “I don’t know.”

Anders wasn’t squeamish. You couldn’t live the life he’d led and come out the other end easily disgusted by blood or pus or any other bodily fluids. But the idea of tending to Justice’s rotting wounds, holding his arm in his hands and putting his face close enough to smell the decay? That gave him pause.

It must have shown on his face. He’d never been good at hiding his feelings. Justice smiled sadly, pulling his arm away and rolling his sleeve back down.

“I apologise,” he said, yet again, “clearly you are uncomfortable.. Perhaps it would be best for me to visit the infirmary after all.”

There was an air of resignation to the way he spoke, as though he’d been expecting the rejection all along. He knew what he was, how he made people feel. Most paled when they saw him up close, cringing away from the smell of rot that lingered about him – why should Anders be any different?

Then again, why shouldn’t he be?

“Wait!” He said, reaching out to grab Justice’s wrist and suppressing that instinctual shudder when his fingers circled around the cold skin, “don’t be silly – it’s only a little cut, I can patch you up easily.”

Justice’s eyes widened. He let Anders grip him tightly, unmoving.

It was intense. A little too intense for Anders’ liking; he broke eye contact, smiling gingerly as he pulled away. If Justice reacted to the loss of contact – relief or disappointment or resignation – Anders made sure not to look for it. Instead, he turned his gaze to the fire, fixing his mind solidly on the task ahead of him. 

Justice breathed heavily and Anders smiled, knowing it was all for his benefit.

“I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“Nonsense,” Anders smiled, “I’ll run and get my tools. Who knows, maybe I’ll be able to teach you a thing or two.”

—

It took all but a few moments to return with the supplies he needed and lay them out on the carpet for Justice to see: needle, thread, forceps, scissors, gauze, bandages, a half-used poultice, and a shallow basin of warm water. Half of them were just for show, Justice wasn’t bleeding, nor was he in pain - Anders wasn’t even sure what good a needle and thread would do, given how his thin skin seemed to be practically rotting off the bone. He almost gagged imagining how it would feel to pierce it, the soft crackling of it beneath his fingers.

He’d sewn dead skin together before, of course, like any other Circle mage who had taken an interest in healing. But that had been carefully preserved, manipulated to mimic living flesh as much as possible so as to prepare apprentice healers for the real thing. And those had been bits and pieces, cuts of farm animals that weren’t fit to be eaten. It was different when the corpse had been dead for several weeks and was staring at you with unseeing, anxious eyes.

“So,” Anders said, breaking a silence that had stretched on for far too long, “I’m going to try and sew your wound together – you saw me tending to Sigrun’s knee last week, didn’t you? This will be similar except… a little bigger, I suppose.”

Justice frowned, “I still don’t understand why your magic is not sufficient for this task.”

“Hey, my magic is plenty sufficient!”

This was a frequent annoyance and a conversation Anders felt he must have had a thousand times with a thousand people – even in the Circle it wasn’t common knowledge that healing magic was best used alongside more traditional methods rather than instead of them. Any powerful enough mage could knit skin back together with magic – Anders himself could do it fairly easily – but it was a useless and risky indulgence that only the most desperate of healers would resort to.

Still, how was Justice supposed to know this? Anders sighed and picked up the needle, testing its sharp point against his finger.

“In case you hadn’t noticed, our world is filthy. An open wound is a problem, yes, but so is a closed one that hasn’t been cleaned properly. Now, if I sew you together, any infection will be obvious and easily treatable; it may even sort itself out if you’re healthy enough otherwise.

“But if the skin heals over an infection? Sometimes, you won’t even notice the signs before it’s too late. There’s nowhere for the dirt to escape from, so it bides its time until it’s strong enough to expel itself by force. Sometimes that means vomiting on someone’s shoes, but sometimes it means you lose an arm, or your lungs fill with fluid, or your bowels explode. And let me tell you, even if you can’t feel pain, none of those things will be a pleasant experience for you.”

Justice stared at him, “you’ve studied this at length.”

“Not much else to do in the Circle, is there?” Anders shrugged, “better this than becoming one of those poor sods that obsesses over entropy or necromancy. No offence.”

Still staring, Justice frowned.

“I dislike hearing about these Circles.”

He meant it. Something inside of Anders twisted and he turned his head away, gripping the needle tightly in his fist.

Justice went silent. When it was clear he wasn’t going to keep prodding, Anders stood up and crossed the room to stare into the fire. Even with his back turned, he felt those corpse-like eyes watching him. Self conscious, he bent down and held the needle to the flames, not caring as it began to heat up and burn his fingertips. 

“What are you doing now?”

Anders pulled the needle from the fire and shrugged, “fire kills infection. You’ve seen the funeral pyres whenever there’s a darkspawn attack, right?”

“Yes.”

“Well, we don’t do that for fun.” He said, “here – let me show you.”

It was strangely difficult to sit back down. There was a tight knot of nerves in Anders’ stomach, like he was about to kiss someone for the first time, that strange mixture of anticipation and excitement and worry. He tried not to let it show, not wanting Justice to mistake it for incompetence.

He held out the needle, still glowing slightly from the fire, “if you ever need to sew someone else up, you’ll have to hold it against a flame until it glows like this. Otherwise, you may as well just rub dirt all over the wound.”

Justice looked at the needle closely, “red...like metal being worked by a blacksmith.”

It was a connection Anders had never made before. He stared at the needle, now cool and dull between his fingers.

“I never did do much smithing,” he said, “not exactly a career for a mage.”

Justice winced but said nothing.

It only took a moment for Anders to prepare everything, threading the needle and making sure the water he’d fetched was still warm. He dipped a cloth into the basin and glanced up at Justice.

“Are you ready to start?”

He always liked to ask before shoving a needle into someone. It didn’t help with the discomfort, not usually, but it felt polite to do so – the Warden Commander hated it, always telling him to stop with the niceties and just get on with what he needed to do. 

Justice seemed to appreciate it, though. He nodded, rolling his sleeve up and offering Anders his arm. Somehow, it looked even worse than before, his pale skin rotting slightly around the edges of the wound – it occurred to Anders suddenly that the injury could be weeks old.

Nervously, he reached out and dabbed at Justice’s arm. He was half afraid the skin would fall apart as soon as he touched it, but it held surprisingly firm. There was a thin layer of gunk covering the area surrounding the wound that he tried not to think too hard about, cleaning it methodically and calmly.

Once the skin was clean – or, once Anders had reached his limit – he dried Justice off and picked up the needle and forceps. Justice watched with interest, eyes following Anders’ movements so intensely that he suppressed the urge to blush.

“This might pinch.” He warned.

“I do not mind.”

Of course he didn’t. Anders sighed and leaned forward, picking up the edge of the wound with the forceps. It made a sickening sound, a crackling groan that made him feel queasy.

Circle healers had to have strong stomachs. Anders had once spent weeks trying to explain this years ago while travelling with a group of lifelong apostates during one of his many brief attempts at freedom. They’d made fun of him, asked how many papercuts he’d healed, whether he knew any useful potions for indigestion. They hadn’t understood.

But when one of them had fallen from a tree and snapped his neck, he’d been the only one able to handle preparing the body for the funeral pyre. When he’d explained how common broken necks were at Kinloch, how many times he’d seen this same death play out over and over, a mage falling from their tower, that was when they’d finally understood. He’d stopped travelling with them soon after that.

“Does this hurt?” He asked.

“No.”

“Good,” Anders was genuinely glad, “tell me if you feel any pain. I’m going to start sewing now.”

He was going slower than he usually would and he didn’t know why. He looked into Justice’s blank eyes, waiting for some kind of acknowledgement.

Justice inclined his head slightly. It seemed that that would be all Anders got.

Carefully, more tentative than he’d been since he was an apprentice, Anders pressed the needle into Justice’s arm.

Justice didn’t flinch. He watched in fascination as Anders wove the needle in and out of his skin, using the forceps to manipulate the wound and keep the stitches small and neat. Once he was in the familiar rhythm of suturing, Anders found it easier to stomach being so close to Justice’s rotting flesh – it was nice, even, to be tending to someone so still and patient.

The wound was larger than Anders was used to stitching under such controlled circumstances. Usually, this was something he’d be fixing with bloody, shaking hands, just wanting to stem the bleeding before the patient lost consciousness. Without pressure, it seemed to take forever. The world narrowed down to just his hands as they moved methodically, his slow breaths, his singular heartbeat. It was oddly lonely. He wished Justice would say something.

Around halfway through, he ran into difficulty, finding the skin tougher and harder to work with. It was probably old scar tissue from one of Kristoff’s long-forgotten wounds. 

Anders frowned and pushed the needle hard, forcing it through.

“Oh!” Justice said.

It was the first sound he’d made since Anders began sewing,“that hurt?”

“No. Apologies, I didn’t mean-”

“Justice.”

“Please, keep going.”

Anders knew a lost cause when he saw one. He shrugged and ducked his head, carrying on with his work as gently as he could. There was a little more scar tissue, but he took his time with it, gently pushing the needle through. There were no more complaints from Justice.

When he was done he tied off and cut the thread, breathing a sigh of relief and relaxing. As usual, he’d done a good job – the stitches were neat, the skin pulled tightly closed.

He tilted his head to smile up at Justice, “better, right?”

Justice looked down at him and nodded hesitantly. He attempted to flex his arm, testing the tightness of the stitches. Anders yelped and reached out to grasp his wrist.

“Careful!” His skin was a little warm from where Anders had been cradling it a few moments ago, “be careful. You don’t want to tear anything.”

They stared at each other for a moment. Though Justice’s eyes were dead and blank, Anders swore he saw a stirring of emotion behind them, a mix of gratitude and grief so intense that he found himself drawing back, slowly removing his hand from his wrist.

“I appreciate your care.” Justice said, each word carefully enunciated.

Anders swallowed, “think nothing of it, couldn’t have you walking around with an open wound, could we? Speaking of…”

He scrambled around for his bandages. Justice looked at them blankly.

“I am not bleeding.”

Anders shook his head, “remember what I said about infection earlier? Come on, it’ll only take a moment.”

Once again, Justice held out an obedient arm. Anders wound the bandage around the stitches, careful not to bruise the delicate skin beneath.

It took less time than the stitching, “done,” he said, after a few moments.

Justice drew back, carefully touching the bandage. He said nothing.

“How does it feel?” Anders probed, “not too tight?”

“No.”

Sometimes it felt like Justice didn’t know that words were free with how carefully he used them. Anders stared at him for a moment, trying and failing to think of something to say.

“Did you need help with anything else?” He managed eventually, “no other gaping wounds that need stitching up?”

Justice said nothing, but Anders saw his face change. He was working up the courage to ask for a favour, Anders just knew it. But what kind of favours could a spirit even need? Unless he wanted… No. Anders didn’t even want to entertain the thought.

“Justice?” He said, “come on – spit it out, already.”

Justice sighed, “it is nothing.” He said nervously, “only… I hoped to witness your magical abilities up close. I find the process mildly fascinating.”

“You… what?”

This was a first. Aside from his fellow mages, most people Anders had met found healing magic terrifying – something about the gentle transferring of energy seemed to scare them even more than fireballs or bolts of lightning. He stared at Justice suspiciously, unsure whether he was being genuine.

Justice grimaced, “have I offended you?”

“No! I just – well, most people look away when I heal them.”

“Others have taught you to be ashamed of your gift?”

“What? No. Don’t say it like that.” This conversation was growing more uncomfortable by the second, “I suppose I’m just used to patients being afraid. It’s easier to heal people when you know how to put them at ease.”

“I am at ease with your magic.”

“I know, Justice.”

There was little else left to say. Anders wished he was braver – he could have shown Justice his magic if he wanted to, he could have sliced himself open and healed his own wound to demonstrate him what it looked like, let him look closely as the skin neatly grew back together.

He couldn't face it, couldn’t risk the possibility that Justice was lying to make him feel better. Wasn’t that what spirits did? Lie to mages to flatter them?

Or maybe he was the one lying to himself. Maybe he really was ashamed. Funny, that.

“Next time.” He said weakly.

Justice nodded, seeming to understand. “Indeed.”

[anxiousnerdwritings]

DC Comics Masterlist II

Headcanons

Yandere Barry Allen (general) [coming soon]

Yandere Bruce Wayne w/ Sibling!Reader He Adopted Himself (platonic)

Yandere Bruce Wayne w/ Ex-Wife!Reader (romantic) [coming soon]

Yandere Clark Kent w/ Kid!Reader who doesn’t like him (platonic) [coming soon]

Yandere Kory Anders/Starfire (general) [coming soon]

Yandere Ra’s al Ghul w/ Damian’s!Twin!Reader (platonic) [coming soon]

Blurbs/Imagines/Fics/ect

Entrapment [Yandere!Bruce Wayne w/ Ex-Wife!Reader](romantic/NSFW)

💕Love Letters💕

Yandere Damian Wayne to Jokerized!Twin!Reader [coming soon]

[cuteandhughesy]

nothing fills me with more joy than we I come on this app and see fics/blurbs/imagines/etc, written for like niche players.

like YES okay joel edmunson 8k fic. I will be diving into this 10 chapter series for gabe landeskog. simon benoit, anders lee, jonathan kovacevic (which i’ll be posting a fic for soon 🤪), even fucking john gibson or ryan o’reilly! like YES.

and if you think someone won’t read it-I will. i’ve been watching hockey for almost 10 years, and been active on this app for about the same. I miss the days when people were posting fics like that 😭

if you’re like me and are dying to read for some more niche players, lmk who and i’ll see if i’ve got a rec 🥰

EDIT: like obviously write and read for who you love but like if you see me ever posting something about some niche ass player…don’t even worry about it.

[full---ofstarlight]

In private, though, he remains a tender and devoted lover; he has repeatedly declared that Hawke is the only reason he's retained any sanity at all.

--

hi yes i did most of this during meetings yesterday lmao

[ultraxavbo]

Guys I’m mad, can we pls stop slutshaming barbara Gordon because about what happen in that one comic where dick was engaged with starfire and this piss me off because all my fyp of TikTok their are a bunch of peoples saying that

“I always remember that dick cheated on starfire with Barbara the day that he give babs the invitation for the wedding”

Dude are you sure that were read the same comic or what???? In the comic is clearly that the only person that has a problem is dick because after he had sex with Barbara he just randomly decided that he was going to tell her that hi’s engaged. AND I REMEMBER VERY WELL THAT BARBARA SCREAMED AT HIM TO LEAVE BECAUSE SHE WAS SO DISAPPOINTED.

Wtfffffff and don’t come at be saying “ohhh you are such a Barbara fan or some bullshit. The problem in that fucking stupid comic it was dick because he wasn’t honest and he lied to both of them. So don’t come at me with that stupid argument to just hate on barbara and is the same thing with starfire. So chill

[traaanskimkitsuragi]

inner circle

[albaharu]

3 dwarves and a mage walk into a hole full of darkspawn

[sweetmage]

Click for full res!🎭

Been playing and thinking about both my Inquisitor!Hawke and Inquisitor!Anders AUs lately and in both cases I thought Anders should have a nice outfit for his visit to the Winter Palace