Quick tip for anyone who is new to comics or who is not new to comics, but hasn't put enough effort into reading them yet:
You can NOT be a Cassandra's fan if you haven't read Batgirl (2000) & Batgirl (2009)
You can NOT be a Jason's fan if you haven't read "Batman: Under the Hood" & "Red Hood: Lost Days"
You can NOT be a Damian's fan if you haven't read "Robin: Son of Batman" & "Batman & Robin (2011)"
Not only are all 6 of these books really great reads on their own right that can be enjoyed by all readers, but they also define these 3 characters and reading all of them them is essential for understanding them, so if you haven't already, go read them!
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I don't feel like going through my blog to search for the post, but called it:
And then they didn't even show Bruce or Dick's reaction to Damian getting kidnapped, only Barbara's pretty generic one.
Can someone tell DC's writers that it's kind of hard to care when not even the characters in the story have emotional reactions to what is happening? If you have someone's child getting kidnapped shouldn't we see the parent's reaction first?
Also the only "joke" the writer seems capable of making with Damian is that he's constantly getting told that he's a bad child/person, which is something I'm pretty tired of general but in this storyline it's especially annoying because so far Damian has contributed absolutely zero to the plot except for needing to be rescued by other people.
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“Can you stop staring, please?”
He can’t. In fact, it feels awfully impossible to tear his eyes from your face. You’re obviously shy, Minho evaluates, and he’s obviously no good at literature, so he doesn’t see the point of trying to learn the subject at hand when he’s so much more interested in you.
From the apples of your cheeks, he swears he can see your face becoming warm, the little arch in your eyebrows displaying your almost hidden spell of self-consciousness. He thinks it’s stupid. If a supermodel were self conscious, people would call them ridiculous, because they’re so obviously beautiful and walk across runways with their heads held high as if confidence has never been a problem. While you’re not a supermodel, nor perfect or confident or the most beautiful person in the world, he hates the fact you refuse to see any good in yourself when it’s all he can see.
Minho notices more than he should. He can pick out the side of your mouth that curls up more than the other as you grin, uncontrollably and without a worry in the world. It’s that smile—the one that makes you look slightly like the joker—that makes his heart pound against his rib cage like an internal bass drum. He couldn’t care for all the imperfections in the world because you have so much for him to adore that he can simply never get sick of you. He finds the clothes you wear wonderfully interesting because he could never think of such outfits himself. He thinks the way you style your hair everyday, and the way you style it on special occasions (which is the same, every occasion) says a lot about the type of person who you are.
You make him want to be better. He feels the need, an internal hunger to grow when he’s around you. It’s not that he wants to be better than you, or become more interesting and different. If anything, he wants to be good enough for you, because while Minho can see the world and more in everything you do, he can barely see a star in himself.
It keeps him awake, sometimes. There’s not really any label on what you are, not just yet, but the looming fear of you losing interest in what he can offer hangs over his mind constantly. He dresses in the same, dark, long-sleeved tops each day, and his hair is never styled differently. For the past two years, his phone background has been the same picture of his cats, and he is yet to change his phone case even though the images on the stickers are now meaningless blobs of white.
However, sometimes he wonders if the world, for once, is on his side. Like now, when the corners of your lips rise and stay up, as if someone invisible is pinching them into the most embarrassed smile of all. He realises you’re smiling because of him—because you know he is so stupidly infatuated with you and he doesn’t even care to hide it anymore. It makes his heart bubble like a fresh bottle of champagne, sweet and cool and fresh: the thought that you really do believe he is enough for you.
For the first time, Minho's fingers touch your face. They’re delicate, and he feels as though they’re like mini candles being set alight the moment he sets them on your skin. Burning. From the very tip all the way to his palm. You feel so soft and gentle against him, as if you’re a stuffed toy made from the finest stuffing and the highest quality materials. Even better, though, is when your eyes widen in surprise and look up at him. It’s not that you don’t like it—he touches you in a way you read about in romance novels, like you’re a butterfly sitting gracefully on a petal—and it makes you forget all the things you think you are (the opposite of graceful, and certainly not as dainty and cute as a butterfly).
When he looks at you, he doesn’t see those things. Sure, he is aware you’re no runway model or hollywood actress, but he would rather you be you. Because he doesn’t fall in love with the people he sees on the screens, the people that seem so perfect they’re not real, the people who seem about as dry as a graham cracker.
Instead, he sees your slightly messy hair and the way your head ever so slightly naturally rests on one side. He thinks it’s cute, you kind of look like a puppy, but he would never tell you that. He thinks he loves you not because of your size, or your skin, or anything so superficial and fake, but because of the way you doodle in the corner of book pages and swear by wearing sun cream, because it’s so good for you all the other million reasons you list.
Minho looks at your eyes, still slightly wide and taken back, then at your lips, bitten and cracked and utterly kissable.
For the first time, Minho presses his lips against yours, and he doesn’t think he ever wants to kiss anyone else ever again. It’s you, it has been since he met you, and it will be when you leave, for the rest of his life. He smiles to himself, still against your lips. You taste like soft vanilla and blueberries, and he is already obsessed.
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Mistletoes and Mayhem
I drew this last year but it wasn't Christmas time, so I waited. This is fanart for non-other than @changethecircumstances fanfic Mistletoe and Mayhem. I absolutely love their works for the Frenchie/Izzy ship as they basically captained the whole thing. The story was never finished but what few chapter were out I loved. I have read ever OFMD work they have made and even though I am not in any of the fandoms they writ effort currently, I like to support from behind. If you are looking for a good ship with Izzy (and my personal favorite), I definitely recommend their works.
I honestly kind of hate this and since have learned so much about art that I may redraw it as I have been rereading some of their fics again (currently on in order to get to the heart sometimes you have to cut through for like the 4th time). Maybe, maybe not but as winter break is soon, I should have some free time.
Anyways, go look at their blog and read their work, you won't regret it!
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