#not that I'll ever actually write this-

[tshortik]

I love you messy artstyle i love you visible brush strokes I love you textures and rough edges I love you imperfections I love you roughness and colour blobs I love you scratchy sketches and bold stylisation and dirt and imperfections I love you ugly and raw emotion!!!!! ❤️

[mint-fixates]

Going more in depth with my many, very long thoughts on the AU concept I discussed in a previous post, which I'm calling "Domesticated Bill AU" based on a suggestion from the replies (TL;DR it's just a "What if Bill wasn't evil" AU)

First major difference: No Euclydian massacre. Bill doesn't destroy his home dimension, he just gets sick of them trying to suppress his gift and leaves. Something something he still ends up getting trapped in the Nightmare Realm while looking for a more exciting and accepting world

He spends a lot of time partying and getting up to mischief while hanging out with the Henchmaniacs (who still look up to him as a leader, but have more of an equals/genuine friends relationship with him rather than a boss/minion relationship), but after a billion years or so that starts to get boring. When they realize the Nightmare Dimension is unraveling, Bill has the idea to get someone to make a portal for him, like in canon, BUT Weirdmageddon is never part of the plan. He just needs a way to safely get himself and his friends out of the Nightmare Realm before it unravels, no apocalypse required

Bill still has a series of failed partnerships because no one has the technology to build the portal or because they can't match his freak and get fed up with him and call the deal off. But there's no evil retribution on anyone who fails to make it. He's chaotic neutral at worst, so most of his impact on history is similar to canon!Bill helping the Salem witches free themselves- but because of Earth's societal standards and expectations, he still gets painted as evil for these sorts of acts.

Bill meets Stanford under the same circumstances- Ford finds out about him and summons him to help when he hits a roadblock in his research (though he finds him through different means since there's no shaman warning/prophecy). The only initial difference is that Bill is fully honest about the intention of the portal, because he has nothing to hide.

Bill is still a bit emotionally immature and jealous of Fiddleford but generally their relationship is much healthier. Ford still worships and puts Bill on a pedestal at first, but as they get closer over time he realizes that they're equals, kindred spirits. Bill delights in having someone and who finds his weirdness intriguing and endearing rather than being put off by it. They both love having someone they can relate to, someone on a similar level of intelligence, someone they never have to filter themselves around, and with all that in mind it's really inevitable that they fall for each other.

The portal is a success, and Ford makes a ton of money and earns his place in scientific history for his brilliant discovery, but credits Bill with half the workload since he can now prove Bill is, y'know, real and not a hallucination. People are still a bit weirded out by Bill and prefer the idea of a human success story, so as far as the press is concerned, it was 99% Stanford. Fiddleford is not credited at his own request, preferring to live a quiet life while knowing he helped make the world a bit better.

Fiddleford is still crushing hard on an oblivious Ford throughout the portal-building process like canon implies, but once the portal finished and Ford can introduce him to/explain his relationship with Bill, Fidds gracefully bows out and goes back to working on making personal computers and on focusing on his family. He and Ford are still good friends and regularly email and call each other which Bill hates but begrudgingly tolerates

Bill and his friends take a tour of the multiverse to decide where they want to settle, but Bill's thoughts keep drifting back to Stanford. Ford is also touring the multiverse for research purposes, which has disrupted their ability to communicate mentally, and Bill realizes how much he misses him. They both eventually go back to Dimension 46'\ and get married. Bill finds Earth a bit boring sometimes and occasionally goes on vacations to other dimensions with Ford and/or the Henchmaniacs, but "home" for him and Ford is always Gravity Falls.

Stanley calls Ford to congratulate him on his success and they reconnect, both apologizing for their fight. Ford finds out that Stanley is homeless and immediately hires him as his publicist since he's constantly being bombarded with interview requests and the like. Stanley ends up getting his own place in Gravity Falls to be closer to work and his brother.

Dipper and Mabel's parents are going through some Things™ and decide to send the twins off to live it up with their rich, successful Grunkle Ford for the summer. Gravity Falls is still weird but the twins now have a great uncle who actively encourages and assists them on all their weird supernatural and conspiratorial adventures. And, of course, their weird extradimensional triangle great-uncle-in-law is more than happy to help them cause some trouble and solve some mysteries too (Bill 10000% helped Mabel kidnap Sev'ral Timez and hide them from Ford, suggested using the Lilliputtians to cheat in her mini-golf game against Pacifica, etc.)

Stanley and his personal assistant Soos still make frequent appearances at Ford's house, and Wendy is also there (haven't quite figured out how she fits into this yet), so Dipper and Mabel are still close with all of them like in canon

Mabel still meets and becomes besties with Candy and Grenda, just under different circumstances.

Pacifica's parents initially contact Stanford to hire him to dispose of their ghost problem, but he passes it off to Dipper because he and Bill are going to visit Bill's parents in Euclydia. So NWMM/Pacifica's character development plays out mostly the same way as canon

Gideon still meets and becomes obsessed with Mabel, but without the journals as a source of power and motivation, he has no ambition to steal the Shack or means to almost kill Dipper. He's still kind of a stalker towards Mabel but a mostly harmless one- especially after Ford, Bill, and Stanley find out he's been bothering her and have a Friendly Chat with him.

The journals still exist, but they're not hidden, they're just chilling on Ford's bookshelf. He originally intended to publish them but forgot about it with all the hype around the portal. Ford gives them to Dipper to help out with the twins' adventures for when he's busy and can't go help them personally.

[dracognition]

for @drarrymicrofic; royalty

"Is this a joke?" asked Harry.

"I'm afraid not." Hermione was so stone-faced an onlooker would assume she was delivering a death sentence: which, as far as Harry was concerned, it might as well be.

Malfoy preened. "Everyone knows the Malfoy line has illustrious members," he boasted, mouth curved into a sharp white smile. "But we all assumed the King Arthur thing was just a rumour." He paused. "Not that I'm surprised, mind you."

"Yeah," said Harry. "Now everything about you makes sense. Royal inbreeding must be worse than regular pureblood inbreeding."

Malfoy made a rude gesture. Harry made one back. Hermione said, "Look, there are... he needs a bodyguard, and you're the best in the department."

Harry glanced at Malfoy, who'd mastered the art of looking down haughtily before anyone knew anything about royal lineage and was employing it now. He scowled, bowed mockingly, and lifted his head to meet Malfoy's eyes. "My lord," he said, which was meant to come out sarcastic but ended up sort of���rough, or low, and suddenly Malfoy's haughty gaze looked a bit nervous.

"My knight," he replied, an eyebrow arched, but his voice was soft and off-kilter, and Harry realised this job was about to be much worse or much better than he'd thought.

[ghostly-cabbage]

We need to talk about the worst thing about making AUs....

The fact that then when you inevitably think about crossovers you don't want the crossover with the canon you want it with your specific AU. Your brain worms, your circus, but THEN WHAT?

Oh, yeah, to understand this crossover you need to go read this entirely different fic/series? Girl help 😭 you can't do that

[eikichi-supremacy]

If nothing else Koenma is a Kuwabara stan and I'm right there with him o7 (I need to write the kuwameshi fic that goes with this fr)

[hailsatanacab]

I'll ask after that secret number 8!

I only remembered secret number 8 because I saw your wip here! I'd started this one based on the same prompt, then lost said prompt and stopped working on it 😅

Instead of a snippet, I'm just dropping it all here - maybe that way I'll feel inspired to finish it?

———

It’s a full house for dinner tonight and, really, that should have tipped him off.

Bruce sits at the head of the table, smiling softly as he watches over everyone’s antics. Damian is regaling Dick with everything they saw at the zoo that day (Danny had been so happy to see Delilah the purpleback gorilla again, and her new little additions to the troupe, too!) and how well they are implementing the grant the Wayne Foundation had gifted them. Tim, Steph, Cass, and Duke are all engaged in a thumb-war tournament which Danny has no interest in participating in. It just wouldn’t be fair on them.

Danny loves that look. The one where Bruce’s eyes crinkle when he thinks none of the kids can see him. It oozes love and it makes Danny’s heart, his core, ache. 

It’s been a little over a year since Alfred found him on the street and managed to wrangle him back to the manor to stay—even after the whole biting thing when he realised how rich they were. 

A little over a year here and Danny’s starting to feel like family.

Starting to feel like he might, just maybe, like to make it official.

“Danny,” Bruce says, drawing everyone’s attention. Danny starts at his name, but Bruce’s voice is warm and calm, and his shoulders lose their tension almost immediately. “Danny, I have something I would like to tell you.”

“Uhhh…” is all Danny can croak out, eyes flicking back and forth between Bruce and the rest of them. Smooth. Looking good, Danny.

Except… they’re all happy. All smiles, all relaxed body language, all radiating calm and love and acceptance. Well, not Damian—his face is as thunderous as it always is—which at least means it’s nothing too out of the ordinary.

“Danny, first of all, I just want to impress upon you that this is in no way something you have to do. You are under no obligation to join us and, no matter what, you shall always be welcome with us in the manor.”

Wait, what? Danny squints at Bruce, trying to parse exactly what he’s saying… Is he—is this them asking to adopt him? Do they want to make it official, too? 

It’s been a little over a year and of course Danny has imagined calling Bruce ‘Dad’. Of course he’s imagined being part of the family, of course he wants to make it official!

He can’t help the beaming grin or the bright and bubbling “Yes!” already waiting on his lips. All Bruce has to do is ask, all Danny needs to hear is—

“I’m Batman.”

The smile freezes on Danny’s face.

His lungs stop working, his heart stops working, he stops working, he just—

“And I’m Nightwing,” Dick smiles, breaking the awkward silence. 

Danny’s eyes snap to him, and then down to Tim when he admits to being Red Robin. Duke is Signal, Steph is Spoiler. Damian begrudgingly tells him he’s Robin, but Danny can barely hear it over the ringing in his ears.

“I’m Black Bat.” Cass cocks her head, almost looking concerned. It always felt like she understood him the most. Whenever he was feeling low, too in his memories, or stewing after a nightmare, she was always there, ready to card her fingers through his hair and never mention his tears. It makes his heart ache to think of it now. “It’s okay, Danny.”

It’s meant to be reassuring, but how—how can it be okay? How? 

Danny’s spent a little over a year with them. A little over a year with Batman. 

Batman, who works with the Justice League, who works with…

A little over a year. 

Just under 16 months since he escaped.

“Danny? Are you alright?” Bruce asks

Finally, his lungs kickstart and suck in a shuddering breath, only for everyone to drop their smiles.

Didn’t take them long, did it? Now that their ruse is up, there’s no kindness in their eyes, they’re just… cold, calculating. Evaluating. 

“Why?” Danny gasps, his fingers tingling, his heart in his throat.

Just under 16 months since he—has he escaped? Or was this just another one of their experiments?

"I... I trusted you, why—" Danny chokes back a sob, gritting his teeth as his shoulders shake. Why? Why would they do this? "I was happy here, with you. I thought... Weren't you happy?"

"Danny..." Bruce is looking at him, eyes narrow and eyebrows pinched, in some cruel facsimile of confused concern and all Danny can think is how much of an actor he is. How well he can play the part of a doting father. How much he made him want that.

"I don't understand, why..." 

"I'm sorry we didn't tell you before, I can imagine that it comes as a shock. We shouldn't have lied to you, Danny, but—"

"Stop it!" Danny slams his hands down on the table and pushes himself up on wobbly legs. Even standing, he feels so small. Smaller than Bruce, than all of his adopted siblings. They crowd above him when they all stand, too. "Just stop it! Why are you doing this, why are you still pretending? Stop it!"

It was easier, with Danny's biological parents. The knowledge that they'd do anything to get him on a lab table, to open him up and see what makes him tick, to rip him apart molecule by molecule, had always been there. He knew they hated ghosts. He knew they hated Phantom. He knew they hated him. It was easier because it was something he'd known all his life. When he died, when he became a ghost, he knew what to expect from them. It hurt, of course it did.

But it was easier than this.

"Danny, I'm going to need you to take a deep breath. You're having a panic attack and you need to breathe."

"Breathe?" Danny laughs, the sound harsh and choking, too high pitched in his hysteria. "You're joking, right? Or is this just more of the—the experiment?"

"Danny, please, we don't know what you're talking about, you—"

"You don't know? You're Batman! You work with the Justice League, you work with—" His words choke off as his stomach churns, bile rising in his throat. His whole body itches, screaming at him to leave, he can't go back, he can't, he can't, he can't!

Bruce takes a hesitant step forward and Danny scrambles back, his feet catching on the chair behind him and sending him careening to the floor. Where are the agents? Why aren't they swarming in, ready to apprehend him, strap him back on the table, carve him from the inside out.

"Please, Danny, calm down. We don't—"

Danny stops listening. His back hits the wall and he pulls his knees into his chest, his shoulders dipping down as he begins to sob. His heart throbs inside his throat, too painful to swallow around. Tears fall hot and heavy on his face.

Sure, he could run. He could phase out through the wall and he could be out of Gotham in a couple of hours. He's escaped the GIW once, he can do it again.

But that was before Batman knew who he was. Before he had the World's Greatest Detective on his tail.

Before he... 

He really thought this would be different, you know?

He wanted to make it official.

"Why did... Why were you so nice to me? Why did you make me like you? I really—I really liked you. I-I thought we could be a family."

"Danny, we are a—"

"Don't lie to me!" Danny snaps, but the force of his anger leeches all the fight from him, and suddenly all that's left is a bone-weary tiredness. There’s a lump in his throat that hurts. There’s a line down his chest that burns. "I don't care. I don't care anymore, I don't. Just... don't make me go back there. Please." 

Is it futile? He thought he knew how the GIW operated by now, the depths that they would go to achieve their results, but this... this was a whole new level of pain that Danny thought he had left behind him in Amity.

"We're not going to make you go anywhere, Danny, you're safe here, I promise."

"Safe? Safe? You must have—" he takes a deep breath, tries to stop the quivering of his voice. It’s all starting to make sense, now.  "The reason you're telling me who you are is because you must have told them everything already. I know the Justice League—I know you're working with them, which means the ex-experiment is over now, and they're coming to take me back. And I can't go back."

"Danny—"

"I can’t!” Danny glares at Bruce with all the rage he can, fingernails digging into his skin. “I’m not going back!"

"That's right, you're not going back, Danny. I won't let that happen." Bruce crouches down in front of Danny, his hands open and raised as if he's trying to say he's not a threat. "I don't know who you're talking about, and I'm sorry about that, but I can promise you that you’re not going back there. We will keep you safe."

Danny pulls himself closer, tucks himself further into the wall, eyes flickering all across the room waiting for that tell-tale flash of white as the agents start to swarm.

He should take his chances now and run, he should go, he needs to go!

The rest of them, his brothers and sisters of a little over a year, are spread out, giving him and Bruce some space. The same concern colours all of their faces. Why are they still pretending?

Steph is chewing on her thumb. 

Danny liked Steph and her brash confidence, her jokes. She's been promising to paint his nails for months now, they've just never found the time. He was going to go for green and black, or maybe a galaxy theme, depending on what she felt comfortable doing.

He likes them all.

"You were supposed to be my family." His mouth turns down at the corners and his voice shakes like a child. "You were supposed to—why? Why would you—I don't understand why you would make me like you..."

"This isn't an experiment, Danny," Bruce's voice is steady, soothing. "I promise."

"But you work with them and—"

"Who do I work with?"

"The Justice League."

"Yes, I do, but we—"

"And the Justice League works with them. The GIW." Danny trembles with the name, clutching tightly onto his hoodie. "I'm not going back there, Bruce."

Danny doesn't miss Bruce's look over his shoulder, nor Tim's nod in return. Tim turns slightly to the side to hide his movements, but Danny bets he has his phone in his hand, probably letting them know they can take him now. Guess this is it, then. They'll be here soon, and he'll be gone.

"Kill me."

"Danny? What do—"

"If you ever had any kindness for me, if you ever cared, kill me. Please, Bruce. I can't do it again."

"Danny..."

"End me now. Take my core out and break it, please, before they get here."

[lordsukunas]

vampire!choso who likes watching humans bc he thinks their lives r interesting, but he finds u especially beautiful :3

he doesn't hide his vampire side from anyone, but it's not like he could if he wanted to. he's pale asf, dark eyeshadow around his eyes, dark stringy hair, and has fangs. it's pretty obvious lol

despite that, he doesn't wanna scare u away. so he makes sure to try and hide his fangs, to look a little more alive and less corpse-y, and he does his absolute best not to stare at your throat. he really, really does. he can't help a little glance every once in a while tho bc it just looks so yummy n enticing, kind of like the pastries he watches u take bites out of

n its rlly awkward bc u can tell he's trying not to smile w his teeth but u don't really get why. vampires r kinda like myth n nobody takes them too srsly bc theyre never out and about. thankfully for choso u find his awkward smiles and absolutely dead, pale complexion a little endearing

u also notice him staring super hard at ur neck sometimes and u have to go "???" before he snaps out of it with a buncha apologies. kinda weird dude but ok!

anyway hes just a silly little vampire guy who has a crush on u pls give him a chance. pls.

[auriidae]

goofy hermit doodles!! because uhh why not!!

[brother-emperors]

CAESAR AUGUSTUS AND MARCUS LICINIUS CRASSUS

this is about the spolia opima that crassus was robbed of lmao. like, yeah okay octavian could've asked him not to claim it, but nevertheless. a kind of theft happened there.

Fact and Fiction: Crassus, Augustus, and the Spolia Opima, Catherine McPherson

[ratcandy]

collection of moth things i never posted all of varying quality and age

[blueskittlesart]

cold fruit in a hot kitchen (so i had this great watermelon last weekend)

[200llbun]

Au where Dipper is deadass blind (working at the library) and cannot see the tall lanky monster thingy in front of him and just kinda assumes it's a human - he knows somethings a bit off about the guy, but he stops his assumptions there bc it's rude and he got over his paranormal phase years ago. (He didn't)

[bongo-clash]

Peacock Au Part 1

Okay so Big Huge credit to @stealingyourbones for letting me do my own take on their amazing eldritch Danny idea!!!! This started out as me just doing a drawing but then I ended up with a whole DPxDC fic that I'll be posting the part two for at some point!!! Anyway, here's the vague designs:

And here's the part one of the fic under the cut!!! :D (Edit: Part 2 is Here!!)

There’s a Lazarus Pit forming underneath Gotham. Normally, this would not concern John Constantine at all, because it’s Gotham, therefore Bat territory therefore not his problem, and honestly he has his own things to worry about. Unfortunately for him, however, the infamous Dark Knight has somehow gotten it into his head that he can do something about it and, Hell, he’d said it would be a ‘big favour’, which meant the man really must be desperate; had to have been in the first place, he supposed, to have even bothered with John in the first place. 

Still, he’d almost kind of forgotten what a huge mess any kind of favour for Batman could be, and thus, he now holds possession of a book that is probably going to get him killed. 

Whether the actual book itself wants to kill him is up for debate, but Constantine has read the contents of this particular Book of Summonings and nothing in here seems remotely safe. He’s absolutely going to be hiding this away somewhere deep in the archives of the archives of the Justice League watchtower with an incredibly pointed ‘DO NOT TOUCH’ on it once he’s done with this, but for now, it’s the only thing he’s got in the way of sorting out this Pit problem. 

There’s an entity that exists, this book claims, that keeps the balance between realms. ‘Closes doors’, apparently, and the doors the pages depict certainly look like a Lazarus Pit. This is brilliant news, obviously, but the book doesn’t describe the entity itself at all beyond that; barely any of the other entries are as vague as this, and that plus some of the frankly bizarre sigils he’s having to draw to summon the damn thing are giving him no comfort. The only remotely comforting thing about it is that the ritual doesn’t require any blood- which either means the entity is benign, or it wants something more valuable than blood. 

…Okay, maybe not that comforting, actually. 

But, before he can consider that maybe this wasn’t his best idea and backing out would be for the best, the sigils flare with light, and Constantine squints to keep track of the way they activate, desperate for any indication of what he’s managed to summon with that stupid book. 

His feet feel feathery against the ground, like they’re barely tethered by gravity and just waiting to float away, and perhaps the seeming lack of atmosphere is fitting with how dust like stars lift from the summoning circle, bringing with them intercepting layers of purple-blue-pink-white, galaxies and nebulae being peeled off the floor. It comes with a sound- something whistling, almost. Seeming hollow, between a shriek and a bell ringing, or maybe more musical than that. It seems to change every moment he tries to focus on it, as if it’s something his ears can’t really hear but his brain is desperate to process, painful to try. 

And then, the entity begins to form. 

Unnoticeably at first, a white glow drifts forming in the centre. It congeals as Constantine’s gaze finally fixates on it, layers forming like jellyfish trails, or flowers, or peacock feathers with runic circles at the tips, fading smaller and smaller as they reach the centre, and a thing akin to a body unfolds into view at the front, a centrepiece. A child’s image of a shadow in opalescence, a strange curving feature where a neck might be, and searing-green spots of varying sizes scattered along the space where cheeks and eyes could’ve been, fading up and down across the lower-half of the ‘face’ and into the ‘hair’. He barely understands what he’s looking at, but maybe that’s the point. 

The sound of a thunderstorm rings across the room, and the curve of the neck unfolds, and it’s an eye, and the tips of a thousand twisted, cosmic peacock feathers become eyes as well, if they weren’t always. They move, wavering, either lashing or flickering from visibility. 

“And what is this?” The voice is a kaleidoscope, echoing off and from every corner of the room, and when they speak, infinite eyes become infinite mouths, too many teeth barely contained by the edges of what seem vaguely like frostbitten lips. To have something even remotely human suddenly etch itself onto the entity is somehow worse than the parts he can’t comprehend. “Who are you, to have summoned me, and seem so afraid?”

Constantine wishes, maybe for the first time, that it hadn’t been an obligation to do this alone; he’s never wanted Batman or one of the Light members with him more than now. It’s a difficult thing, almost impossible, to shake off the speechlessness. It’s a wonder that it’s possible at all, with how the room seems to have been twisted into a vacuum. “I was told you could- you could help with the pits?”

“The pits. There are many pits.”

God, this is creepy. “The Lazarus pits to, uh, to be specific. There’s a huge one cropping up under Gotham that’s not supposed to be there, and the local- I mean, the locals are getting antsy about it. …I heard you can take care of them.”

“I can smell its blood between the gaps of atmosphere, encircling. You, whose soul is bound in so many directions, who may be pulled apart like meat in time- can you sense it? Does it draw you?” John doesn’t know how this- this thing knows that, but he’s scared asking will invoke some kind of consequence, and more and more he’s wondering why the Hell he decided to do Batman this favour. He feels exposed. 

“Uh… no, I don’t think so. But can you fix it?”

“Yes.”

“…Will you fix it?”

The chill is getting to him. Goosebumps are running across his arms like a livewire, and he’s never doing anyone a favour ever again. The entity makes an approximation of a hum, his ears shriek with whale song and stars, and after a pause, everything switching up and down on itself, the peacock eyes form into huge, reaching hands. For a second, Constantine’s whole body freezes with terror, because he’s petrified the thing’s going to grab him, but then the arms tumble phasing into the ground, and the green spots on their ‘face’ flare with a supernova glow and they make another piercing noise, chiming or trilling. 

A long moment later, the hands slowly return to the entity’s back, and fade into the peacock feathers or jellyfish bells or whatever they were before, blinking at him. “It is gone.”

“Uh… cheers?”

“It will not return, but this place shall see its dead for some time. Try not to look.”

This is maybe the worst day of Constantine’s life. “Can I- uh, yeah, great advice. ‘Appreciate it. But, can I ask just, y’know, what you are? Or not.”

“That is up to you.” They say, and though the eyes that appear briefly between sentences bely or reveal no expression, it feels scrutinising. “What is it that closes doors? Is it alive?”

He hates riddles. He hates riddles and he hates cosmic horrors and he hates eldritch entities and he hates Batman for getting him to agree to this horrible favour. He wants to go back to the House of Mystery and pass out for long enough that this whole thing becomes a dream. “Fair enough! Forget I asked- cheers for sorting out that pit, though. Uh, don’t suppose you’ll just let me go on my way or anything now.”

“I know of your Bat.” 

Oh dear. Constantine’s stomach sinks like a shipwreck into the Mariana Trench, but the entity moves on like they’d never even said it. “I will recede, and find you in time, perhaps both. You will know when I am coming, and I will find my recompense.”

And just like that, their whole form shimmers into clouds and pearls and smoke and mirrors, and they fade back into the runes that summoned them like tap water down the drain. The galaxies they’d formulated within the confines of the room fold back in on themselves and turn to whispers and then nothing, but the feeling persists on his skin long after weight has settled back onto his bones. He hadn’t known a thing like that existed until now. He doesn’t know what it can do, doesn’t know how all-encompassing it truly is. 

And he owes it a favour. 

Crap. 

[cluescorner]

I cannot imagine being a Damian stan right now. You've got both Zdarsky's bullshit (where he clearly doesn't give a shit about your boy) and The Boy Wonder (where Juni Ba clearly gives so many shits about your boy) coming out on the same day. The whiplash must be insane. I hope y'all get some nice warm soup for your efforts jfc

[kyouka-supremacy]

I think we should just bring back Wungo Wednesday and start a fandom collective anime rewatch

[chloecherrysip]

We're going to save your brother.