#still gonna write it though

[nd-frogoblin]

the tragic irony of getting a fanfic idea stuck in your head, only to find out you got it the wrong way round by accident?

Local writers are heartbroken

[vapidink]

That feeling when you want to write fanfic but there's a pile of WIPs eyeing you accusingly.

[bluerosefox]

Drake Siblings

Have I read this prompt somewhere or was this a fever dream from my bored mind.

What if, now hear me out.

What if we bring up Dana Winters-Drake (whose confirmed to at least be alive in the DC verse but no one knows where she actually is)

What if instead of when she had a mental breakdown and getting committed to an Bludhaven clinc she wandered away before anyone noticed and by the time Tim or anyone did notice a lot of stuff started happening at once in both Gotham and Bludhaven (Steph dying, The Bludhaven crisis, etc etc)

Tim still tries to find her though but even with best resources it was like she just disappeared into the wilderness and the stress of trying to handle more and more problems get worse.

So when out of the blue, a couple of years later, he gets a call from an unknown number. On his private, only for friends and family, phone and when he answers he meet with a young girls voice on the other end.

A very young, maybe six or seven, girl who informs him about his apparently half-brother Danny Drake-Fenton. And how she loves Danny so, so, so much but knows her home is dangerous for him to be in.

Tim is stunned and before he could question her, she says Danny is Dana and Jack's baby and that her parents had adopted him years ago and put Dana's stuff that the hospital had away for him to look at when he was older but she just had to fight off their lunch from eating her brother and she knows he needs a better place to live and so she snooped around and found Dana's diary and that she had to unscramble the nonsense Dana wrote and found Tim's number with the words 'tell him about his brother Danny' hidden in it. And-

But before she could keep rambling she hears Danny screaming "JAZZY THE MILK WENT BAD AGAIN AND HISSED AT ME!"

Tim is left with silence after hearing Jazz yell to Danny to lock the fridge and step out of the kitchen as she gets the bat.

[starscream-is-my-wife]

This is part 1 of a continuation for my other post where LL Megatron gets trapped in the G1 universe, I was thinking about how someone would go insane in this cartoon world and thought "what if Megatron had someone else to accompany him" so, I gave Starscream an existential crisis

Edit: pt 2 here

[mipexch]

sixnine dump

[luckyartdrawer]

^^^ Cover art for the fic that goes with this!!! vvv

*Please read the tags before reading!

vvv Summary, Clear full image, Close ups, and Yapping below! vvv

Summary:

Then someone new came along. Long after the encounters with death. Long after the obsession with words has settled in.

They had nothing to do with either of them, nor the daycare, and not even the other animatronics. Just a simple tour guide, bringing groups around place to place, with simple explanations, free goodies, and overly preppy cheer. It may have been in the job description, but they acted as if they were best friends with any animatronic they introduced – including them.

It felt wrong. It felt ugly. It felt as if the perfect smile on that face as they bestowed compliment after compliment on each tour was just that. Skin deep.

Drip

Are they as beautiful on the inside as they pretend to be on the outside?

Drip

_____________________________

A Moon centric horror story to celebrate spooky month/Halloween! Inspired by the song Bones by Will Wood and The Tapeworms. Enjoy!

⚠️ I do not condone this behavior! Check the tags before reading! This fic is heavily inspired by the song and leans into the anorexia and gruesome/literal aspects of its lyrics, if those subjects bother you please be careful as they're in this fic! ⚠️

Clean Version: (No words and No blur)

Close ups:

Yapping:

I'm very excited to post this! I've been holding onto it for a while now and I'm very proud of it! ^^

I really did want to wait until further into October to post these, but with the chance of being out of power for 2 weeks due to back to back hurricanes, I figured it's best if I post this now rather than risk being late. It's still spooky month, and plenty of people can enjoy the spooks any time! <3

I love horror stories, so hopefully this unnerves some of y'all hehe >:)

And of course it's Moon centric, I've accepted my bias at this point.

[fatedroses]

Tank-on-Tank violence.

[kelocitta]

In honor of the @rw-ship-showdown I wanted to write about Artihunter as someone who jokingly slapped them together pre-downpour and still thinks they are actually very compelling. Just not in the super soft love wins kinda way (Although I get why people like that more) And the only way I know how to do that is talking too much so heres a far too long slug essay-

Obviously the slugcats don't offer a ton of characterization but theres not nothing to work with. Their stories, whether by their roles in it or the overarching themes do provide a backbone to work with. Even gameplay itself can provide a bit. (for some more than others) Hunter, to me, is ultimately a story about selflessness. The goal is to revive Moon, which is very much an act of kindness from both Hunter and NSH. But the weight of that action is much more significant for Hunter- Hunter is deeply sick. They're on the clock, and for all their skill in combat none of that will ultimately help them to survive longer than their body can hold out. Moon is a close friend of NSH but that means little Hunter- Hunter really gets next to nothing out of helping them, and ultimately pays quiet a bit spending their limited time alive fighting to deliver that neuron so that someone else can live.

To spend ones limited days on helping another, in a game that very much stresses the unwavering cruelty of the world and nature- is pretty notable. (And you could even say that Hunter being the Hardmode of Rain World adds another layer to this)

And then we have Artificer. A storyline that very much stands out to people as more… villainous (so to speak) than the other slugcats. Artificer's story covers a lot of things. Trauma, violence, revenge, etc. Revenge is a bit of a selfish desire- That need to see someone hurt as they have hurt you. A punishment that ultimately does not fix whatever harm was done- but feels good to see because you were hurt and now those responsible share that pain.

Artificer's actions are founded in that need for revenge, their pups killed for overstepping boundaries they didn't know existed. Is it not fair for them to be angry at that, to punish the scavengers for their violence with their own? Why should the scavengers ever be forgiven when they and their pups were not? And that's how you get that loop- Harm for harm over and over.

The original action has been lost in a spiral of violence for violence. And here stands Artificer- their very spirit scarred. Not just because they sought revenge, but because they never ceased trying to scratch that itch for violence as an answer. Artificer only has two paths for their story- killing the scavenger king (Someone who, really, has little to do with the original 'crime' of the scavengers, but represents an important individual to them- as did the slugpups to Artificer), locking themselves as karma one for good and spending the rest of their life chasing creatures that no longer even fight back in a warped sense of closure- or to dissolve themselves in the acids of the void sea because they're too far gone to find any real peace.

They can't meaningfully recover from that state, not alone, twisting in on themselves. Even if they halt their actions, they've been using violence as a feeble defense against their own pain- violence that no longer has any real direction or basis. Artificer gets no real closure from killing the scavenger king. All they can do is continue the cycle, or try to scrub it away. No real peace in a prison of their own making. So you have a creature, who even with a strict timer on their life- a body that will crumble to disease, spends its last bit of time on saving another. And another who was so caught up in the pain of loss that were eaten alive by their own anger, poisoned their own soul on such a deep level even self-proclaimed gods have no solution for them. What peace can they offer each other? For Hunter, its only a fleeting moment of happiness- of selfish love, before their own body fails them. A bit of indulgence in something for themself. For Artificer, its a single, comforting thread to ground them again, something tangible to protect and care about again. But thats a thread that will ultimately be snapped under the cruel indifference of the world. Hunters timer will tick down regardless of if it takes another with it. Its a tragedy- its doomed to end badly. Whatever good it offers to either of them to find each other will only provide the fleeting comfort of a band-aid that will be ripped away too early. But all that can be worth indulging in anyway, if only for the moment. It doesn't change the ending, but the ending was never going to be happy. Its can so yuri

[aroaceleovaldez]

full on feel like pjo tv s2 is not gonna hold up so they need to drag as much attention to the series as they can by using nico as a sock puppet w tsats2

im fully expecting the show to go the way of the movies. it doesnt help Sea of Monsters is almost unanimously the least favorite book of the first series. People frequently forget it even exists or what happens in it, especially more casual fans.

Heck, just look at how little fanfare the second season has gotten so far as compared to the build up to s1. I wouldn't be surprised if s2 totally flops. It would be a little funny.

[jessicas-pi]

The only sign of trouble Sabine had was some shouting from an alleyway before she was nearly knocked flat onto the pavement by a pair of boys rushing out into the street.

She'd managed a daring escape from her governess and had been hustling along, head whirling in thought, eager to get to the small coffee-house where her friends were meeting, when this near-collision happened. She staggered backwards, crashing back into a gentleman who caught her by her arms, steadying her, and then turned to berate the fleeting boys for knocking into a lady.

She stepped away from him, towards the alley, intrigued by what they might be running from, and found nothing in the alley but filth and a heap of rags. 

Then, the heap of rags moved.

Gradually, it formed itself into the shape of a ragged boy who had been curled into a ball, seemingly protecting something. He muttered words that would probably have been very foul, if they had been intelligible, and looked around, first down the far end of the alley, and then towards her.

His gaze lit upon her and froze.

She stared right back at him.

His face was smeared with blood.

It dribbled from a cut on his forehead and dripped from his nose. He really looked awful, and she only wondered for a moment why before her blood surged in anger. Those boys must have given him a sound beating.

Sabine stepped forwards, treading lightly through the grimy alley, and crouched down in front of him. She pulled out her handkerchief, offering it to him wordlessly.

He stared at her with wide eyes for a few seconds longer. It was a reaction she was rather used to. She knew she didn't look like most English girls—and not in a way that won her an abundance of admirers.

Except, she realized, as he continued to gaze at her in something that might have even been awe, maybe this time, it just did.

She couldn't say she wasn't flattered, but the staring was getting a little old.

"You're bleeding," she reminded him, holding the handkerchief out to him.

"I'm... Ezra..." he replied, the corner of his mouth twitching up towards a boyish grin. His accent was pronounced, and slightly nasal.

She raised an eyebrow, handkerchief still held out to him.

"I—I sell papers," he stammered, still staring at her. "Those boys—they wanted the money I made, but they didn't get it."

She waved the handkerchief at him a little.

"It's not much," he continued. "But—by gee, I held onto it."

She rolled her eyes and smacked the handkerchief against his red-smeared mouth, stopping up the blood.

"You're a bloody American," she observed with some amusement. "Aren't you?"

If possible, his eyes got wider. He likely wasn't used to high-class ladies using low language. If that was the case, then he ought to meet her friends. They'd give him a shock.

"Well—I guess I am American, and bloody, too." He laughed bewilderedly as he reached up, his fingers brushing against hers as he took the handkerchief from her. He lifted the handkerchief away from his face, glancing at it and then pressing it back to his face. "Golly, I hope you didn't do all this fancy stitching on your own, 'cause it's getting a bang-up dye job right now."

"I didn't—and you can keep it. I don't think I want it back anymore."

The boy looked at her with something like awe. "Gee. Thanks, miss."

She giggled, standing up and offering him her hand. He stood up without taking it, mumbling that he didn't want to get dirt on her nice gloves. 

He was a funny boy, and if she'd had time, she might have talked to him more, but Sabine was on a tight schedule. As it was, she would only have a chance to stop into the coffee-house for a moment to hear the news from Leia and Jyn.

"I must be going now," she said, nodding her head to him as she stepped backwards. "Stay out of trouble, now, paper-boy."

He blinked at her.

"But I—" he stammered. "I don't—know—your name?"

She grinned. If he didn’t know who she was, she wasn’t going to tell him.

"You've got my monogram,” she said, gesturing to the handkerchief as she skipped backwards. “Figure it out!"

Sabine turned, darting across the street. If she hurried, she would get to the coffee-house before Leia finished expressing her opinion of members of Parliament, and those were always worth hearing.

When she reached the other side, she glanced backwards. The boy was standing at the opening of the alley, the handkerchief clutched in his hand as he stared at her. When he saw her looking back, he raised his other hand and gave her a little shy wave.

Sabine grinned and waved back, momentarily caught up by a rash impulse to dash back across the street and invite him along. Americans were rather revolutionary, weren't they? He'd get along well with the girls.

And the girls would be absolutely delighted to learn about my trans-Atlantic admirer, she added mentally. Leia could be a merciless tease when she felt like it, and Jyn would probably jump at the chance for a bit of revenge over Sabine's delighted reaction to meeting her friend.

No... she'd better not risk it.

Shame, though. She rather thought she'd have liked to see more of that boy.

[deathbypixelz]

Tarinne didn't allow herself any deep connections after the Third War for a number of reasons, and one result of that is the flogging scars she received during it as a prisoner of the Alliance never really... healed right. They healed, physically, but even years later she couldn't handle anyone touching her back even lightly. At best it was overstimulating to the point of pain, at worst it brought back memories of hands rubbing salt into her wounds. This just reinforced her aversion to intimacy, and it wasn't until she and Cathala got together (~20 years after the fact) that she finally wanted to desensitize herself again.

It's a slow process and some days are easier than others, but compared to the first time they tried this, she's come a real long way.

[psilliguykai]

@aleafylampshade hiiiii your thing from the reblog with mind designs post :D

+my very sad attempt at rendering because Lord do I need practice 😭 I included a flat colors version as well. you have a phenomenal mind design I really love the storm motif and the lightning in the hair it’s so so cool!!

Thankyou for sending in your guy !! :333

[krittec]

imagine if in season 3, Five tried to rewind to find out who killed Luther or try to save him but as his rewinds aren’t well practised so he can’t go too far, he rewinds to Sloane walking in as he’s stood near his brothers body, so his family thinks that he killed Luther.

[chaika-jpeg-shitpost]

Joseph, just like Chika, had someone weak and helpless in his care. However, when the threat of death from starvation drove him into a corner, he refused to abandon the one he promised to protect. Unlike Chika

[anonymous-dentist]

Part Five of the Catboy in the Village AU

Parts: One | Two | Three | Four

-

Before Cellbit can start any kind of investigation, he passes out from hunger. (Four days without eating will do that, he supposes...)

It's sort of just... quick. He's sitting up in bed so Roier can braid his hair, and then his head and eyes are all fuzzy, and then he's in a different bed with no Roier and with an absolutely killer migraine.

He groans and rolls onto his side and pulls his blanket over his head, because he knows that there's somebody watching him. He can feel their (her) eyes on him, and they're making him feel even more sick than he already feels.

"You're an idiot," the queen declares.

Cellbit just hisses at her. She doesn't deserve his words.

He can practically hear her eye roll. Wood creaks from next to his bed, footsteps clicking against the cold stone floor, and then a light 'creeeeak' as a cabinet is opened on the far side of the room. Grumbling from the queen- insults, mostly. Clinks and clatters as she searches for something.

Cellbit's stomach twists and groans from hunger. Gods, what he'd give to be in his kitchen right now with Roier making dinner less than an arm's length away from him. Smoke in Cellbit's lungs, flavor already burning his tongue, fresh bread from the bakery across the street in front of him as an appetizer.

"There's soup on the table next to you," the queen says.

But it isn't Roier's soup, is the thing. It's probably poisoned. Or, worse, it's gross. Not enough meat, probably. Possibly even vegan, eugh.

How would the queen react if Cellbit told her that he only eats dishes with human flesh cooked into them? Would that be enough for her to send him home?

...Probably not, considering she seemed more upset about him being bad at escaping prison than him actually being in prison in the first place. That opens a whole bag of worms in itself, because how in the world does the queen know about Alcatraz when Cellbit's own in-laws don't? How long has she been stalking him for?

"If you need something lighter, I can have the kitchens send up some bread or crackers," the queen continues.

"I'm not hungry," Cellbit grumbles.

He's gone for longer than four days without food. During the war, it wasn't until Bad picked him up and taught him what his claws and fangs were good for that Cellbit started having dinner more than once a week. When he was put in solitary confinement in prison, he wasn't given food at all, and he was in that cell for at least five days at a time.

He's gone for longer than four days, so it has to be something in the castle that has made Cellbit so weak. Maybe it's something in the air, some kind of magic the queen is employing to try and break him down. The bed sheets might be laced with sickness runes. The guards constantly following Cellbit and Roier around might be warlocks in league with whatever demon is haunting the castle.

"Right," the queen sarcastically says. "You're not hungry. You just passed out after not eating for four days for no reason."

Cellbit bristles so literally that his ears tent the blanket above his head. He grits his teeth together and, not for the first time, he wishes that he still had his claws.

"Exactly," he grits out. He flexes his fingers, pretending the air he's scratching is the queen's stupid (identical) face. "So. Leave."

"I'm good, actually," the queen lightly responds. She sounds beyond pissed off, but she also sounds as calm as can be expected of royalty. Ugh. "I'm going to order some bread for you in just a moment."

Cellbit's ear twitches. "No."

"You're an alchemist, yes? You know what happens when you take a potion on an empty stomach. This might be the healer's quarters, but I will not have you throwing up all over her floor."

Cellbit pulls a bit of his blanket over and away from one of his eyes so he can glare at the queen properly.

"I'm not going to throw up," he scoffs. Who does she think he is?

Now that he can see the queen, he's even more annoyed. More than that, though, he's confused because... why? Why is she here? What kind of warden pays this much attention to their prisoner?

She's rooting through a large wooden cupboard filled with things Cellbit recognizes from his own supplies back home: healing potions, powdered unicorn's horn, phoenix feather, faerie dust.

"When you passed out, you hit your head pretty hard on one of your bedposts," the queen explains, ignoring him entirely. "Your husband has requested that you be given something to help with your pain, and you know that you can't take that without something in your stomach. Stop being stubborn."

"I'm not being stubborn," Cellbit huffs. "And I'm not in pain. So."

He isn't lying; he feels just fine. The only thing hurting is his stomach, and that's normal with starvation. He's more than used to the feeling by now.

"So you're going to take one dose of this potion to make your husband happy."

Oh, and now she's blackmailing him with Roier's emotions. Great.

Unfortunately for the queen, Cellbit knows his husband well enough to know that, if Roier wanted him to take a potion, he would be in the room force-feeding it to him himself. He wouldn't have Cellbit's current number one worst enemy try and do it, he isn't that cruel.

...Now that Cellbit thinks of it, where is Roier?

A bolt of panic grips Cellbit around his heart and he sits up in a flash, blanket flying off of him as his entire body tenses. His ears stick up on end, straining for any sign of Roier. Nothing.

"Where is he?" Cellbit demands.

He looks around the room and sees absolutely nothing that he can use as a weapon. Great. It's fine. It's fine! He can just-

Cellbit's vision swims, and he feels himself tipping to the side and off of the bed. The queen shouts, but he can't hear whatever she says over the sound of nothingness as he loses consciousness for the second time that day.

It takes much less time for him to wake up this time. He's up and trying to get to his feet within seconds of hitting the floor, his ears flat against his head and his eyes wide with panic as he fully decides that the queen may have, in fact, killed Roier. She had Cellbit drugged and she had Roier killed and now she's going to keep Cellbit in a much worse cell and she's going to torture him until he agrees that he's her brother and-

He's shocked back to reality as a blanket is dropped over his head from above. What?

"Roier is fine," the queen gently says. She's above him now, too- on the bed, probably, why? Is she trying to smother him? "He's the one who brought you here. He and the healer went to get some ice from the kitchens. She was going to go by herself, but he wanted to make sure she wouldn't try and poison you."

What a hero. Of course Roier would worry about the ice being poisoned, he and Cellbit both know a hundred ways to poison someone. It's hard not to know how to poison people in the potion business.

...But she's lying. The queen is lying. She hasn't told Cellbit the truth once since she first barged into his store.

...But the blanket over Cellbit's head is really heavy. Was it this heavy before? No, right?

Cellbit kneads his fingers into the knees of his trousers. He twists his wedding ring around his finger. His nose twitches. His lungs hurt.

"Still works," the queen mutters. What does that mean?

A few short, yet excruciatingly-long, moments of blanket and panic later, the door to the room slams open, and a pair of beautifully-familiar boots thud towards Cellbit. A second later, the blanket is ripped off of his head, and there's Roier holding a bowl of ice and looking so handsomely concerned.

"Gatinho..." he breathes.

And then he scowls and plops onto the ground in front of Cellbit, cross-legged. He puts the bowl down on his lap, leans forward, and grabs Cellbit by the face with both hands and squishes his cheeks together.

"I fucking told you to eat!" he shouts, only halfway angry. He squishes Cellbit's cheeks harder. "And now you are on the floor. Why are you on the floor, eh?"

"He fell," the queen responds. She's still on the bed, cross-legged herself, with her chin resting against her fist. "He wanted to search for you."

Roier 'awww's once before gently shaking Cellbit's head back and forth.

"What have I told you?" he scolds. "I'll always come back for you. Even when I die, I'll just haunt you as a sexy ghost. I'm not letting any stupid queen get rid of me?"

"Hey!" the queen protests.

Cellbit smiles, though, and he reaches up to place his hands over Roier's.

"Desculpe, guapito," he says.

Roier smiles back, his anger slowly fading from his face.

"Your forehead is all purple," he tells Cellbit. "Come here..."

He takes the blanket off of the floor and wraps it around a handful of ice cubes. It's a lumpy cold mess, but it's sweet, so Cellbit doesn't complain too much as Roier softly presses the makeshift ice pack against Cellbit's forehead.

Cellbit leans into his touch, eyes fluttering shut. He bites back a happy little purr. (Not in front of the queen...!)

Someone else walks into the room, but Cellbit couldn't care less about them. They have to be the healer, but there's nothing wrong with him. Nothing he can't fix himself with the right ingredients, anyway.

He cracks an eye open and glares up at the queen, who looks... thoughtful. Uh-oh.

"I'm not taking the potion," he tells her. "I don't drink anything I don't make myself."

The queen shrugs. "That's fine, then. There's a cauldron on the other side of the room. Right, Niki?"

She looks over her shoulder, and Cellbit can just barely make out a head of pink hair. Must be 'Niki', then. The healer.

"That's right!" the healer agrees. "You can use what you want! It's all in here somewhere!"

Roier leans in close and whispers, "That's Niki. She talks a lot about empanadas."

Cellbit's stomach grumbles at the mention of food, and he groans.

"Please don't mention food right now," he sighs, voice low.

"Mmm, or I can, and you'll eat something and we can go back to our room," Roier hums. He tenderly strokes Cellbit's cheek. "I'm in the mood for empanadas right now, actually. Ah, or mixiotes... or gorditas..."

Cellbit slumps forward against Roier's shoulder, bringing the ice with him.

"Guapito, please..." he whines.

"If you're hungry, I can have any of that made for you," the queen offers.

A growl bubbles up from Cellbit's throat, but Roier covers it up with a loud, "Ah! But how do we know you won't put poison in it, hmm?"

"Because I wouldn't poison my brother or my brother-in-law? That would be ridiculous!"

"Mhmm. But how can we be sure?"

"Let Roier cook for the both of us," Cellbit says. "That way, we know for sure that it'll be safe."

A beat. And then:

"Are you being serious right now?" the queen demands. "That was why you wouldn't eat? Because your husband wasn't cooking it for you?"

Cellbit turns his head to glare up at her. "You would starve yourself, too, if you had to go from his cooking to someone else's. His food is perfect. He could be a professional, you know."

The queen looks absolutely shocked. Positively bewildered. Confused beyond all belief. Angry, too. Annoyed.

"You are. Ridiculous," she stammers out. "But... fine. Yes! You should have just asked from the beginning! Oh my gods! You should have asked!"

She continues ranting about how silly Cellbit is for not trusting her despite them literally being family, which is absolutely ridiculous because, A, they aren't family, and, B, she literally knocked him out and kidnapped him and his husband and is holding them both captive.

But Cellbit doesn't listen. Instead, he thinks. Once he's back on his feet, he can actually start investigating. And then? He and Roier can go.

His stomach grumbles again; Roier giggles and pokes at Cellbit's belly and starts listing out potential dinner options in order of Cellbit's favorites to his least favorites.

...But first, dinner.

Finally.

[aurantiumred]

the overlap between the dc and pjo fandoms is. a concerning amount. ill be looking at tt and scrolling though, find a dc tt, turns out 3 of the percy jackson accs i follow reblogged it. is this a canon event. do all of us go through a dc phase. i got hit in the face with the brick that is jason todd lore by @whosthatredguy via infodump one day and the next im scrolling through a sketchy website for comic #408 for jason's first appearance. and like. I'm still annotating the lost hero. wrong jason, thought my hyperfixation was on jason grace, not like. the definition of parental issues. not the definition of "role two, the scapegoat" cmon man

AND THEN THERES A GYMNAST! AND I IMMEDIATELY GO "mmm pretty, mmm cool moves" AND I PERISH INSTANTLY AT THE THOUGHT OF THEM BECAUSE THEY'RE SO FUCKING COOL???

LITTLE ASSASSIN VICTORIAN BOY? YES PLEASE!!! I LOVE HEARING ABOUT THINGS I DON'T UNDERSTAND! I NEED TO READ EVERY COMIC PLEASE SOMEONE GIVE ME A DAMN WEBSITE THAT DOESN'T ATTEMPT TO FLASH ME WITH NAKED WOMEN WHEN I FLIP THE PAGE TO READ THE COMICS ON IM BEGGING YOU

GIVE ME A SITE I DONT NEED A VPN TO EVEN THINK ABOUT PLEAASSSEE

theres also representation in already established characters and a bisexual man who frequently takes naps in impossible places. i would kill to say hi to any of them. theres so many comics and i do not trust myself to write about a character before i know everything about them so im probably gonna go and watch every single show related to batman and then die in a corner.

anyway this devolved from "why are these fandoms linked" to "angry rant about the cities i would burn to hug nightwing" really fast actually.