I randomly get inspired to write weird stuff with Gabriel that I'm usually not even into and a lot of the time I get comments that amount to I'm not into this. Am I? or being surprised they were into it. Gabriel is just randomly inflicting this sort of thing on everyone I suppose
Gabriel Ultrakill has been reclassified as a gateway drug. Please keep an eye out for any suspicious activity.
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Of Cryptids and Kryptonians
“Did you figure out what you’re doing for grad trip yet?” Duke asks.
“He’s going mothman hunting,” Dick says. “With Bernard. And Kon.”
“Have so much fun,” Steph says with an evil glint in her eye that Tim chooses not to think too hard about.
“You invited your best friend on a road trip with your boyfriend?” Jason asks, giving Tim just the most judgemental look.
“I—” Tim starts.
“No, Bernard invited him,” Dick says.
“Well,” Jason says. “Have fun I guess.”
He says it in the same way a person might say, “your funeral,” or “play stupid games, win stupid prizes” and Tim has no idea why.
“There’s something wrong with all of you,” Tim says.
OR, Tim, Kon, and Bernard go Mothman hunting. It doesn't end the way any of them expects.
Gotham Knights (game) gave me brainworms, so I guess I'm writing fic again?
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It will never not disappoint me that the one PPG/RRB scene in "The City of Clipsville" isn't talked about as often as a fascinating piece of media satirizing early internet fandom much in the same vein of episodes like "The Itchy and Scratchy and Poochy Show" from season 8 of The Simpson. It's such a smart and funny critique of the shipping culture at the time (which was and still is mostly led by preteens and teens, in comparison to the adult audience of the Simpsons fandom at the time).
I don't know, I think both the animation community and fandom historians really overlook this as a fascinating piece of animation and early online fandom history, and it's always disappointed me. The City of Clipsville is going to be 20 this month, I think it's about time somebody really went in depth and dissected it for a wider audience.
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You notice three things about the ginger standing in front of you.
He is short, he is angry and he is the most glorious thing to have ever touched your life. He is dressed plainly, as though he refuses to draw attention to himself and yet holds it in him the confidence of gods. His hair is the color of fire, cut into the goofiest looking asymmetrical style you have ever seen.
He holds the world in his eyes. One of the oceans and the other of the earth. With freckles decorating his pale face like paint splattered on a canvas.
You think a god is standing in front of you, you think no human can ever look at a port pie hat and match it with ripped jeans and a weird band t-shirt you don’t recognize the name of.
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