#i adore her tbh

[sheepdog-and-fakegoldenretriever]

When you're not a husky person but the husky has chosen you

[delilah-briarwood]

Obsessed with Georgie referring to her family as if they’re the baking mafia

[therantingsage]

Not a fankid, technically. But heir to the sun nonetheless! Heavenly Choir, Celestia's adopted daughter!

Missing a leg, and she's got insomnia. Both are issues she copes with better as time goes on.

[vampirewalterskinner]

The reveal of Yang being a woman is legit one of my fave reveals of all time 🥰

[sanguivorouscorvid]

rena for the character bingo

disclaimer i have not finished higurashi

[a-most-beloved-fool]

makes me a little sad when star trek ignores IDIC. like. vulcans are logical. that is true. But 'logical', for vulcans, does not amount to 'without compassion,' and it definitely doesn't amount to 'racial superiority.' Belief in 'infinite diversity in infinite combinations' should NOT result in the weird racist/speciest stuff we're getting in some of the newer treks. It does make sense that some vulcans are discriminatory. They're still flawed. But that should not be common or expected, like it seems to be in SNW. If it is, then it's a race of hypocrites, which. doesn't seem very true to Star Trek's message.

I think TOS Spock does a pretty good job of embodying this. Not always, it was the 60s, after all, but mostly. He was often trying to find non-violent routes, and get by without killing - even if they were in danger or had already been attacked. (See: the mugato, and the horta (until Kirk was the one in danger, lmao. t'hy'la > IDIC), the Gorn ship). Kirk, in his eulogy, calls him the most human soul he's ever known, and I've always read that as Kirk calling out Spock's overwhelming compassion.

It's just so much more interesting when Vulcans get to be radically compassionate. I want them to believe that everything and everyone has value. I want them to respect all ways of being. I want them to find ways for even very non-humanoid aliens to exist unfettered in society. I want them to see hybrids and think that it's amazing. Also, like, disability rep. I want Vulcans to have The Most Accessible Planet and available resources because they want everyone to feel accepted and valued. It makes for better characters and more interesting stories.

[phantompasta]

more If you find a vigilante in a dumpster by @lunamugetsu art because I do not feel normal rn

The lady on the left is Lady Gotham btw that's kinda how I picture her until the author describes her current appearance

Lady gotham-less art after the cut in case she wasn't the evil mastermind behind that last chapter ending + a meme

Also, for so you can see Danny's drawings in the background

[nefelibatat]

So it's kinda interesting how Jinx is basically Caitlyn's own extremely malevolent genie. Every desire she has, Jinx fulfills, but with such a cruel twist that it almost defeats the point.

Want something new and exciting in your sheltered life? Well, one might say nearly getting blown up is pretty exciting. Looking for a real job to undertake? Here's a convenient pile of evidence leading you straight to the heart of a criminal empire. Good luck getting out of this mess though. Coworkers making you feel excluded? They can't do that now; they're dead. Longing to see Vi again? Don't worry. You will be taken to her, like it or not. Mum being too restrictive? Never again!

It's no wonder Jinx is associated with monkeys when her role in the show is ensuring a monkey's paw curls any time Caitlyn has a vague inclination towards something.

[mynabirb]

melting wings were worth it to meet you

[one-eternal-sigh]

furthering the “lily evans is competitive af when it comes to board games and academics” agenda

[anonbeadraws]

illustration Commission for @comiclz of Saga. who even when Raging and covered in blood, is the hottest one in the room 🥵🩸 🩸commission info/tip me?🩸

[moth-bytez]

a little night out at the bar

petition for the ship between vox, rosie, and alastor to be called rosemedia thank you

[kheprriverse]

Been playing gw2 a lot, hence my lack of consistent content, and finally decided to make a ref for one of my fav characters I made! Hydahlla, an Elementalist Sylvari.

Second image is my @plesbian's charr, Sorex. They made a blog for it on the spot though so you can check them out there if you want. I won't be making one though since I don't plan on posting gw2 content all that much but I wanted to show off this coz I really like how she turned out :)

But yeah getting her to lv80 and completing as much of the expansions as possible is what's been keeping me busy the past month or two (or three if you wanna count my first character). Taking a small break from the game though to get myself to draw more, and I AM still working on my comic stuff for the loz au.

[ryllen]

I MISSED THE WAY YUU RAISED HER VOICE TBHHH she is very sweet when she does that and gets mad~

[haveihitanerve]

Her name is Stephanie Brown and she has been Robin since Tim Drake retired the name, choosing Red Robin instead as he fled the nest, the bat cave, and Batman. Stephanie Brown is Robin, Batman’s loyal sidekick, and the one who reminds him that they are better, that good people should not fear them, and that there is room, in their line of work, for hope. Stephanie Brown is seventeen and she is Robin when Batman is called to arms against Darksied, and she refuses to be left behind, just like Damian, and the two of them band together, both wearing the red and green and yellow, and he relents.

Stephanie Brown is Robin and she is watching him, as always, following his lead, his guide, so she sees it all happen. Sees as he gets hit, and sees as he collapses. The fall is not controlled, or cushioned, or careful, Bruce does not move his hands, does not lift his arms, or flex his legs. He does not do any of the things he has taught Steph to do when she falls, to save herself, to make the fall hurt less. No, he crumples, hard and heavy and final. “BATMAN!” The scream is torn from her throat and then Stephanie is running, dodging heroes and enemies alike, hurtling for the fallen body, her legs burning, lungs screaming. She sees, out of the corner of her eye, Dick crumple, sees Tim get knocked from the sky as his attention diverts, sees Jason roar as he starts firing anewed, rage in every fiber of his being. “BATMAN!” Damian gets there first, tugging at his fathers hand, pushing against his chest, but he’s too heavy, and Damian is too small, too young to see his father die, to be charged with the duty of trying to revive him. So Steph pushes him away, screams for Supergirl to get him out out out. And she beats at his chest instead, screaming for him to get up and fight dammit. Steph crouches over the body of her mentor, of her father, pounding on his chest with everything she has, forcing her own heartbeat into his body, pressing her lips against his over and over, 30, two breaths, 30, again and again and again. It isn’t until hands grab her, pull her back, kicking and screaming, that she realizes the battle is over, is won. But how can it be won, how can any of them say they’ve won when Bruce is dead? Bruce Bruce Bruce. Bruce is dead. The hands holding her relax as Stephanie collapses, sobbing, crawling to his side to hold him, to cry into his chest, begging, pleading for him to stand. To say something. To reprimand her, anything.

She is Stephanie Brown and she is Robin and the battlefield is quiet as they watch this girl, this child, Robin, beg Batman to yell at her, watch as she cries over the body of her fallen mentor. She pulls away, finally, and falls instead into the arms of Nightwing, who is crying too, tears streaking out from behind his mask, lips trembling. Red Robin joins them, his face an ugly red mess of tears, and Red Hood is quick to follow, wrapping his arms around them all. The four of them cling to each other, sobbing in their shared grief. Supergirl returns, holding a small Damian in her arms, the new robin, the one who had refused to stay home. He stares at them, and at the body of his father. Steph detaches from the group, slowly, approaching the boy with careful steps. He looks up at her, Lower lip trembling, head shaking quickly, repeatedly. “No.” He says, voice hollow. “No.” He repeats, louder, as though she hasn’t heard him. Steph crouches, brushing a lock of brown hair behind his ear. “Yes.” She whispers. The word breaks her, and him, because he falls, Steph catching him just in time, and he clings to her, sobbing, renewed screams of “no!!!” Leaving his mouth until his voice is hoarse with it and he can only sob dry tears. The Justice league watches the two robins hold each other and mourn, and they ask, vaguely, in the back of their minds, if they will ever see something more bone chilling ever again. The answer is no, no they will not.

She is Stephanie Brown and she does not have a mentor anymore, and she, they, bury him in an unmarked grave, a grave they tell no one but themselves about, and make a new, public grave for the others. They never go there. She visits him, almost every day, and Alfred hands her his videos, his last words, his contingencies he had crafted for them all. She hands them out dutifully, staying only long enough to see the tears form in their eyes as they hear their fathers voice for the first time again, then slips away, out, to patrol her city. The cowl is heavy on her, the cape too long, but she fits it, she thinks, and he would say so too, she thinks. She listens to her own video, alone, on their roof. “I am proud of you Robin. Give ‘em hell.” Steph wipes the tears away, smiling at his face, that face, pressing her fingers against the screen. “I always do Bats. I always do.” There’s a rustling and Steph shoves the screen away, stows it in one of the insanely deep utility belt, turning to the ruffle of red and green. “Hey Robin.” She smiles. Damian smiles back, happier than she’s seen him in a while. “Hey Bats.” He greets, moving so he can lean against her side. Steph likes the nickname, treasures it, even. The first time someone had called her Batman she had, come to their aid of course, but then she had gone home and thrown up, crying herself to sleep. Damian had appeared a few hours later, and she had snuggled him until dawn, telling him all her memories of Bruce, good and bad, telling him of his father.

She is Stephanie Brown, The Batman and she breathes deeply, hiking the familiar path to the unmarked grave. It has been a while since she’s been here, since she’s visited him, and she doesn’t regret it, not as she brushes away the old petals and places the new flowers in the hole. “I love you.” She whispers, fingers brushing the only word Dick had carved into the pure white stone. Dad. It means more to them then anyone would ever know. Her own father, biological, is buried somewhere across town, in a marked grave, a grave that is bare of flowers. She never visits him. “You were more a father than he ever was.” She whispers to the gravestone, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye, wishing desperately that she had actually told him that. When he was alive. Steph stands, pressing a kiss to the stone as she always does, and turns, leaving him, as she always does. Robin moves on. He had whispered to her once. She knew it was true, had been true for all three before her, but she wasn’t quite ready to. Not yet.

She is Stephanie Brown and he is back. Stephanie doesn’t know how, and she doesn’t much care. He appears on the doorstep, looking a little confused and a lot guilty but they can deal with that later as Steph throws herself at him, burying her face in the familiar smell of his neck, soaking him in, treasuring the strong, steady arms that wrap around her, protective. “Hey Robin.” He whispers, gently wiping a tear from her eyes. “Hey Batman.” She returns, a smile threatening to split her face in two. Damian comes at the sounds of commotion and freezes, on the stairs, eyes blown wide. Steph takes a step to the side, but she keeps her hand on his arm, just because she can just because he’s there, just in case he disappears. Bruce takes a step forward, careful of her hand, and opens his arms to his son. “Hey Princeling.” He whispers and Damian hurtles for him, clutching his father like a lifeline, tiny body fitting perfectly against Bruce’s chest and Bruce cradles him gently, so gently, as he strokes a hand up and down his back and murmurs words of comfort. He looks at Steph over his son's head and she smiles, light and free and happy in a way she hasn’t the last few months and she pulls out her phone, pinging a quick message in the group chat and it isnt long before everyone has arrived, screaming and crying and yelling and Bruce takes it all in stride, hugging and apologizing and squeezing and kissing, and Steph watches from her spot against the wall, smiling so wide and for so long that she’s sure her face muscles will be sore tomorrow but for the first time in a while she just doesn’t care because he’s here he’s alive and she has her Batman back.

She is Stephanie Brown and she hands the mantle off to Damian, declining his offer to be two Robins at the same time like they’d been before, choosing her own purple cape again instead, still running at Batman’s side but a step further away now, running with Black Bat and Red Hood and Red Robin, still under Batman’s cape but no longer his shadow. No, now she is his claws, his teeth, his messenger, spreading across Gotham like mist, branching away and furthering the myth, becoming one of the birds in her own right. She adopts the name later, Sparrow, the one who was not broken, still with the purple colors but with flashes of red and green, highlighted with gold and blue, and a bright, proud, black bat on her chest, emblazoning her as his. She is not Robin anymore, she has moved on, but Robin helped her to grow her feathers and now she flies, flies free and happy and safe, but not alone, never alone, returning each night to her nest, her cave, her home. “Birds of a feather, bats of a cave.” Jason whispers to her once, on one of their missions together, and Stephanie takes the words to heart, repeating them to herself as she flies across rooftops, dancing with the stars and shadows of Gotham, happy and free and safe.

She is Stephanie Brown, the fourth Robin, Spoiler, and the Sparrow, she was the Batman when no one else was able to be, and she is Batman’s plague, his greatest weapon and his biggest curse, because she is his. Stephanie Brown never belonged in the sunlight, she did not belong cowering behind her mother, locked in the closet by her father. She belongs to the darkness, belongs to the creatures of the night because she is one, a phantom, a myth, and she showed them all, and she showed the Bat that there is room for hope in their line of work.

[snarkspawn]

KP ANNIVERSARY week 2: Favourite Supporting Characters [5/?]

Yok