…of Calvin & Hobbes's Leviathan fame ? Cool beans!

I'm not sure I agree with you a hundred percent on your police work, there, Lou.

…and Martin only ever writes Walking Dead fanfic from here on out…

Always. There are more books, more music, more films, more engaging diversions floating around already available to enjoy than i could ever get through in a thousand lifetimes, especially books, so certainly never beholden to anticipating any single creator's offerings…

Except for maybe a sustained taser session…

Maybe you can cripple him and keep him prisoner to get that precious Misery Chastain story you're crying for…

"Look, there's only so much rape I can put in my unfunny fake George RR Martin quote." —Bob Hope is God

I'm kinda hoping the old fellow doesn't ever finish, just to enjoy the hilarious feeble bleatings of impotent apoplectic entitlement whores everywhere…

Sounds like this one really got y'all excited for Justice League.

So, why not a hammerhead vs mushroomhead ?

Just wait 'til they find out he shaved his balls and had his asshole bleached.

The Melvins bring it true every time, following their freak mad muse wherever it goes. Thank you for the music gentlemen. Hmm, now i want to hear Abba as done by Buzz 'n the boys.

For certain segment of coprophagia enthusiasts, the answer is a hearty yes indeedy do; do please give fresh feces heap to feast, good sir Snyder.

He'll be showing up with Cappelletti America to party with all the Justelle League in a future MCU/DCCU crossover.

Its really not as much fun as it sounds, but if she insists, yah do what yah gotta do…

…and as he ejaculates, a little flag pops out from the tip of his dick then unfurls, like one of those gag guns the Joker has…yes indeed the Clown Prince of Crime has covertly sabotaged the Dark Knight's twig & berries, and the message on the flag mounted on the end of Batman's cock reads: "guess what glum buddy, i've…

BvS will be beloved in time…as a cure for insomnia.

Slow-motion blood jettisoning from dear old Mom and Dad, splashing upon young Master Brucie, till the 'lil lad is crimson coated and wallowing about, bloodier than Carrie on prom night, making feral grunts like swine in a sty or spry gals engaged in erotic mud-wresting…

Todger packs a wallop.

No one is boxing Helena. She can make brain parasites & ascending bowel cancer seem good.