#did i really write such thing?

[in-hav3n]

Okay! after I read about phone sex and I’m always thinking about Current James (I really need him)

Like surprise visit in backstage and… omfg Yummy!!!

𝐔𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐓

WARNINGS : NSFW - rough sex - sex scene - age gap

"James Hetfield's fitting room? You go straight and then it will be the second door on your left".

You thanked the crew member for his kind instructions and went to the direction he indicated you. Backstage were like a big labyrinth for you and without his help, you could have easily got lost. You could have asked James but this would have ruined your surprise...

Tonight they were performing the second night of the LA show and from the comments you could hear from the staff, everything went well. You weren't exceptionally attending this gig to prepare this unexpected visit you had planned.

You got this idea after the first show. And it appeared quite easily in your mind the night before, when your eyes couldn't stop looking at James. He was so damn hot, impressive and amazing on stage, walking, playing and singing. You felt something strong in your core, a hot desire burning into your lower belly as you were thinking this awesome guy was yours and you could have him whenever you wanted. And why not backstage ?

The paper "Jaymz fitting room" hanged on the door indicated that you were at the right place. You checked yourself one last time before knocking on the door.

"Come in", you heard James' voice from the other side.

He was already there as you expected him to be. Of course you had checked the timing the previous night to be sure you'd arrived on time. You opened the door and walked without hesitation. Nobody really paid attention to you since you were known now by the crew.

"Hey baby", you said with a casual tone when entering his backstage room. James was standing in his bathrobe, looking for something in his travel bag, exposing his back at you. You silently closed the door and locked it in behind you with a smile. He already showered after the show and was getting ready to leave soon. Everything was going on as you had planned.

"Hey sweetheart", he answered without looking at you, still searching for something. "Ha! There you go", he said to his deodorant as he spread some under his armpits, opening slightly his bathrobe.

Then he turned over and greeted you with a smile until he realized something was different. He put down slowly his deodorant on the coffee table and looked carefully at you.

"Going somewhere?", he curiously asked with a frown as he noticed you were wearing a trench coat and a pair of heels. That was definitely not the outfit you choose to wear two nights ago and you both never agreed on going out after the show. This intrigued him.

"Yes...here", you replied as you looked at him.

"Weren't we supposed to meet at the hotel?".

Oh yes it was your first plan but you couldn't wait till he arrived at the hotel and you wanted to surprise him. You smirked and walked slowly to him, making your way between his stuff on the ground until you arrived in front of his build. Your hands gripped the edge of his bathrobe's collar as you sensually licked your lips.

You felt the weight of his gaze upon you and his breath on your nose. Thanks to the heels, you were a bit taller and you planted a sweet kiss on his upper chest. James raised a brow like if he wanted a more precise answer and you gave it to him by slowly pushing him backwards. His body landed on the couch behind him. His bathrobe opened a little with the mouvement, exposing his chest.

You settled between his legs as you teased him with your coat now. You lazily untied the knot, before opening it slowly. You watched him and you could tell he was already excited by this play. His pupils were dilated, his breath was deeper and faster and you bet his dick was getting hard under his clothe.

"Hiding something underneath your coat, baby?". You smirked and bit your lip to tease him. "C'mon open it and show me your beautiful body...".

You do as he asked and slowly opened it, letting it slide along your shoulders until it landed on the floor. His eyes darkened more and he gasped of pleasure when he saw the black lingerie set you are wearing.

"You like it?".

"Hell, yeah...', he groaned as gripping your hips to push you on his lap.

"I couldn't wait for you to join me...so I had to come now to take what's mine", you giggled and fell on him, holding his shoulder to not fall when his head disappeared on your chest, kissing your stomach and breasts thought the fabric. His hands explored your back skin and soon, your ass.

"Jesus baby, you're absolutely hot, making me so hard...", he whispered through your skin as he kissed your everywhere he could.

"Show me", you gasped as pulling away to kneel down in front of him and watching as he rushed to open his bathrobe. His hard dick sprung free, resting on his lower belly and this simple vision made you smirk. You bit your lips as you grabbed it, your hand looking so tiny around it. You held it straight and caressed slowly his tip already red and swollen.

"See...", he said with his heavy voice, resting completely against the couch, "how hard I'm for you....", his hand would replaced yours as he lazily stroked himself in front of you.

You got up and started to play with the waistband of your panties, knowing this kind of tease was driving him crazy. "That's exactly what I wanted...", and while you're looking at him straight in the eyes, you pushed down slowly the fabric, letting it go along your legs until it landed on your feet.

"Ready for the ride of your life?", he joked as he kept pumping himself, waiting for you to sit on him. You smirked as you took off your heels and turned around. Carefully you placed your feet on the edge of the couch and adjusted your position on top of him so you could sink on his dick in reverse cowgirl.

James looked at you surprised but pleased. You never tried this and he was already excited just at the idea of you doing this. He optionally helped you, holding your butt.

"I hope...you're ready for the ride of your...life baby", you grabbed his hard dick to line it up with your entrance and you progressively sunk on it, stretching yourself at each inch, gasping to relax.

When you arrived at the base, you both moaned low, your legs even shaking a little due to the excitement. You were dreaming of this moment since yesterday and the anticipation made you wet all day.

James kept his hands on your butt and kissed your back, as a tender way to encourage you to move when you'll be ready. And after a few seconds, you started to move up and down on his dick, moving slowly first to stretch you more until you felt no resistance anymore and you could move a bit faster.

"Oh yes...mmh...feels good", you gasped as leaning a bit against James chest, your hands gripping the couch behind you, as his hands held your thighs to help you on your motions.

"Feels really good baby...all wet for me", he groaned, giving you a sidelong look and then looking down to watch how his dick were slowly thrusting hard into you with intense movements. "Move on my dick, c'mon".

You whimpered with a nod as you bounced a bit faster, knowing you sadly didn't have all the night to enjoy this. In ten minutes or less, his assistant would come and ask James to leave for the hotel and you didn't want to be disturbed.

"That's it baby", he commanded you with his hoarse voice, slightly panting, "enjoy my big dick inside your tight little pussy, feel how it stretches you out...that's what you wanted uh?". You nodded but he spanked your ass, encouraging you to move and use words.

"Say it!"

"Yes...I wanted your big dick so much James...", you cried out of pleasure and cried even more when you suddenly felt the rough touch of his index on your sensitive wet clit.

"You're so fucking wet baby, you dirty little whore...", he used circular motions around your bund of nerves, shaking it fast, "walking dressed up like a slut, craving for my old dick"

"Oh lord...", you panted hard, your head swinging backwards as you felt his member thrusting in you with a fervent pace, your pelvis moving frantically up and down.

"Are you gonna cum on me sweetheart?", he asked you with his guttural tone, feeling your walls contracting slowly around him. He could felt it with the rhythm you had chosen for bouncing on him and this encouraged him to rubbed your clit faster.

"Hum hum...", you only managed to mumble with a nod as you were breathing hard and quick. You didn't stop moving and the feeling of his tip hitting your spot mixing with the delicious feeling of his fingers on you guided you over ecstasy.

"Do it baby, I feel it's coming...I feel like how your tight pussy is taking hard my fat cock", he'd encouraged you with his dirty talk, "...fuck me...cum on me", and when you finally let go, the explosion came in a sudden.

The cry you let out was loud and high. You head felt backwards violently as your eyes rolled back behind your head. One of your hand assisted Jame's fingers so he'd keep his touch on you, you didn't want it to stop cause you were having a double orgasm. Something stronger than you ever felt before.

"That's it baby girl....", he'd praised you as didn't stop looking at you witnessing such pleasure.

The sensation you felt was thousand times stronger than usual and your legs started to shake but you succeeded to keep your balance till the end, moving slowly on his dick until the last drop of pleasure disappeared.

"Good girl", James chuckled erotically at you, slapping lovingly your pussy. You panted hard and just turned your head to kiss his temple, your body completely sweat. "You think you can handle it till I cum baby?".

You nodded, catching your breath the best you could, as you leaned more against his chest, your pelvis swinging backwards a little. You couldn't stayed on your legs anymore and you needed help. James moved a bit to welcome you on his lap and held your thighs so he could move beneath you.

"There you go...", he whispered as he started to thrust again, in slow motion this time, feeling he was already over the edge. He kissed your left side, his pelvis hitting your butt at each pound. He knew he could go too hard or fast now, you needed time to recover.

But you also knew time was running out and you wanted him to feel the same sensations you had. You didn't want this to be ruined by someone knocking on the door quite soon.

"Fuck me faster baby", you murmured, knowing he'd need this. James only groaned and thrusted harder into you, your wetness helping his movements. He closed his eyes and the movie of what happened started to play in his mind, arousing him and leading him to his own release. He saw you in this lingerie set, how this sexy underwear were looking good on your perfect body. He thought about your perfect tits he'd love to eat or you pleasing yourself on him...

"Oh god yes...", he'd mutter and you noticed he was about to cum soon, you could tell by reading his face.

"C'mon baby, I want you to cum on me", you whispered as kissing his cheek and temple. James turned his head and opened his eyes to look deep at you. "I want it...please", you begged and he simply nodded before a heavy and hoarse guttural sound came from his throat and mouth.

He quickly lifted your body to grab his dick, pulling it out to jerk himself off so he could cum on your pussy, his hot load being spit on you. You bent a little to take a look at it and moaned with him as you see how covered you'd be.

"God!", he groaned as the last drop of cum went out of his dick, landing on your swollen pussy as the rest of it slid slowly along your lips. You smiled and giggled as you looked at the mess he did on you. He panted loud, seeing stars as he recovered and you cupped his face with your hand to kiss his cheek.

All of sudden, you heard some knocks on the door. "Mr Hetfield, are you ready to leave?". You both jumped with the sound and then looked at each other with a knowing smile.

"Right on time", you giggled and kissed him lovingly...

A/N : Oh my god anon, yes that's absolutely yummy and sexy ! I really need him as well and I hope you'd like this one!! I think my brain took all control of me !

[inbabylontheywept]

bad dating stories time: the shoe incident

so in highschool, my best friend wasnt allowed to go on dates unless there was another couple there to keep an eye on him. part of this was his parents being insane, but also, part of it was him being insane. in a problem with no reasonable parties, there are no reasonable solutions.

at some point in my junior year, my sorta-gf broke up with me, and i just wasnt feeling dating, which was bad for my friend, because he had a good thing going with a girl he met in court.

he kind of hounded me about it. kept pushing me to just put me feet back in the dating pool and i wasnt real thrilled about it, because i knew he was pushing me for his own benefit, not mine, so i kept telling him to fuck off, and after a few weeks of being told that i would date when i was damn well ready, he eventually said: okay. what if i paid for the date AND found you a blind date AND all you had to do was show up?

and i shouldve said no, i know, but i let him wear me down, and i will own my fault in that. a date starting on such a stupid premise could never have gone well.

but he still managed to find a way to make it worse.

i dont know how long he tried to set a blind date up. it couldve been multiple attempts. he couldve stooped to this immediately. but what happened in the end was that he called a girl from the ward he attended - a girl that he knew had a giant, mushy crush on him - and he said: hey! how would you feel about going on a date this weekend?

(you know, implying it was with him, but never actually saying it.)

and she said YES WOW I WOULD LOVE TO and he said great! and then he called me up and said he found me a date.

i did not learn about his crimes until several weeks later. i will die swearing before god almighty that i would never have allowed this travesty to happen if i had known.

that was on a monday. the date of the date rolled around that friday evening, and im sorry to confess, i really phoned the whole thing in. i showed up in my favorite comfy outfit, which was also a fashion crime: basketball shorts and flipflops and a baja hoodie. it was super comfy but it made me look kind of crazy. i picked him up first, and then i picked up his date next, and then we went to pick up my date, and thats where you're gonna get the play by play.

i arrived, walked across the yard, and knocked on the front door. she opened it almost immediately, like shed been waiting right by it, and i could see her expression go from OMG IM SO EXCITED to super disappointed, then disgusted and finally pissed. and because i didn't know about my friends sins, i thought it was from my outfit. which seemed... harsh. like, hey, im allowed to be quirky, fuck you. also its a blind date, i thought the deal was that we were both going to be sad broken sacks of mortality.

anyway, we looked at each other for several seconds before she slammed the door in my face.

i looked back at my friend. he was sweating bullets. i dont know what he expected from this, but there was this big long pause where we both tried to figure out what to do, and then the door opened up, and her dad invited me in, and he said she was gonna need a few minutes to finish getting ready, and that in the meantime we could sit and talk.

we did not talk. we did sit. i sat down on the couch, and he sat down in a chair across the couch, and then instead of talking he cleaned his pistol on the coffee table. i wasnt actually sure if it was a threat, or if it was just a fidget thing for 40+ year old republican men, but when i tried to help he got snappy so i just watched him put a pistol back together.

he was okay at it.

eventually my date came downstairs, still mad as hell for reasons beyond my ken, and i felt pretty guilty for being such a mess because i thought that was why she was so angry. i tried to make up for by walking her to the car and getting the door for her, just generally trying to be extra polite, but before i could make it back to the drivers side, her dad called me back to the door. so i flipped around, went to the door, and immediately regreted my decision.

soon as i was within range, her dad got waaaay too close to me, leaned in, and said "whatever you do to her, i will do to you," and my brain went into overdrive making three consecutive realizations.

realization one was, damn, the pistol thing was a threat. that sucks. what an asshole. realization two was, wait, im autistic and even i know theres a 0% chance me and my date even hold hands, least of all boink. does this guy actually think there's even a 1% chance of anyone in that car getting laid tonight? is he an idiot? and then realization three went through, which was wait, is this guy threatening to fuck me? and unfortunately, with my brain doing so much processing, my mouth was left to run amok, so somewhere between realization 2 and 3, i said:

"i can't get pregnant"

which, i swear, wasn't actually me trying to be a smartass, it was just me pointing out that he couldn't actually follow up on that threat. it just wasn't possible. we do not live in the omegaverse and im not scared of you.

still, it was an insanely catastrophic thing to say, and the moment we both heard it, we bluescreened. that single sentence obliterated both of our momentary streams of consciousness like a saltine in front of a sand blaster. problem was, he'd probably gone his whole life not even realizing someone could say something that stupid, and making that realization was going to cost him a lot of thinking time. me though? i had been saying shit like that for 17 years, i didnt have to rewrite my expectations of human nature, i just had to plan an exit and start striding. so i was already halfway back to the car before i heard "hey. hey come back. Hey. Hey. HEY. HEY WAIT. HEY GET BACK HERE. HEY-"

and then i was in my car, and i drove away.

if this happened today, he'd have called her, and the whole thing wouldve imploded then and there, but back then, there were still a decent number of teenagers without cell phones. especially the teenagers of insane, gun toting parents. so she just said: whoa what was that all about? and i said: dont worry about it, he'll tell you about it when you get home.

and she said: ok and went back to staring daggers at me and my friend.

WHICH SURPRISINGLY isnt even how the story ends.

we went to an improv comedy show, and it was a disaster. it shouldve been like, 7/10 tops, but between my date being mad, and my friend having a good time, and me having the existential terror of knowing that a guy with a pistol was probably waiting outside his house for me to come back, it was easily 11/10. i laughed way too hard at everything. especially the jokes that flopped. id sit there in this mostly silent room and laugh until i dry heaved a little, and my date was absolutely disgusted, and even my friend was a little embarrassed, which would just make me laugh harder. i laughed so hard that night i could barely talk the next day. and then the show ended, and my friend said, you know, that was a good time, but i think we should maybe do something a little chiller? who wants to walk around the park? and his date said yeah, and my date said no, and i finally had mercy on the poor woman so i said, look, im gonna drop you off. and i am so, so sorry about this, but im dropping you off like a block away. super duper sorry.

do talk to your dad about the pistols thing if you dont want this happening more in the future tho.

and she said: okay. so i dropped her off, and she walked a block down, and that was that.

then i drove my friend and his date to a park that was good for wandering. i figured they wanted something more private, so instead of following them around point blank, i chose a park with this 30 foot rope tower, and i climbed to the top and i said: hey i can see you anywhere from up here, you are officially chaperoned from a distance. get panopticoned idiot. except my friend really is an idiot, and he didnt really get the whole 'now i dont have to third wheel so insanely hard with you guys' thing so he climbed up the tower too, and then his date followed behind him, so there are three people basically sitting together on top of a telephone pole.

and then they started making out.

i was close enough to hear it.

i didnt really know what to do so i was just kind of sitting there, dissociating, when some college kids came around and started shaking the tower. my friend's date went aaaaaaaaaa im afraid of heights :( and my friend went oh, dont worry, ill hold you tight ;) and i went hey, im gonna climb down and ask them to stop.

so i did climb down, and i did ask them to stop, and they flipped me off, which i wasnt even mad about. at that point i was i was like yeah, it would be weirder if this wasnt a mess. gods plan has been to fly this day like a 747 into my metaphorical twin towers and brother he is close enough for me to see him grinning through the cockpit window. still, eventually the college students got bored, so they climbed up the tower, which gave my friend and his date a window to climb down, and together we walked back to my car.

now, i cant explain why this is, but sitting back in the drivers seat was my carriage-back-into-a-pumpkin moment. i'd been chill about all the chaos, just rolling with the punches, but sitting down made me realize how much of a shitshow the day had been, and while i couldnt go back and fix all of it, i could go back and fix one thing.

so i told my friend and his date, hey, you two, stay here and don't do anything weird. don't. then i walked back to the rope tower, and i started picking up the shoes the college students had left at the base in order to climb.

about halfway through this, i realized that if i took all their shoes, they might think i was in it for the money, and i actually wanted them to know i was in it specifically to spite them. fuck those guys. so i put all the right shoes back, gave myself a 100 foot headstart, yelled "nice shoes, assholes", did a little jig, and started running.

my advice to everyone is that college students are faster than you think. even with the headstart, and the whole climb down the tower thing, i was still only fivish seconds ahead of them by the time i got to my car. i flung the door open, looked in the backseat, didnt see anyone, flung the stolen shoes in the backseat, heard two "ow"s, took that as proof of presence, jumped in and pealed out of the lot.

my friend and his date popped up a few seconds later. they were, uh, doing something weird in the back seat. my one request - obliterated.

they climbed up to ask where the hell all the shoes had come from, and i was like yeah i stole them from the college students, and they were like oh. cool. hope you had fun. and i was like, i did. i did. but speaking of fun, what were you doing back there?

and for the first time in my buddies life, i think he was actually embarassed.

[hhhhunty]

How funny that she never considered that.

[inkskinned]

we were sitting on the floor and i was cutting out tiny pictures to make a collage for a friend's birthday. you were on your phone and you laughed about something, and i was still in love with you then, so i asked what had you giggling.

"sorry. i was just..." you took a moment and went back to texting. "i was telling someone about how you're afraid of the dark."

i'm afraid of the dark because something bad happened. "oh." i felt a little slinky of shame crawl down my throat.

you glanced up, and maybe it showed on my face, because you rolled your eyes and held the phone to the side casually so i could see the group chat. "what? was it a secret?"

i looked down to the scissors in my hand. "i just..." no, it's not a secret. it just felt like something private, something serious. saying why would you tell someone that just feels like an accusation. it's unfair. i honestly am not even ashamed of it, it's just a fact about my person that i don't usually share.

what a strange experience. is this a human thing or a generational thing? for our grandparents: did they need to worry about how quickly someone can just... share your personal information? again, i didn't even really have a true objection. what could i say? i want any person in my life to feel they can be honest with their friends. it's not like i said don't tell anyone this.

i cut out another letter to complete the rainbow happy birthday, started hunting for the exclamation mark. i heard you sigh dramatically.

"don't make a big deal about this," you said.

this entire conversation was a pattern for us, and this was when we got to my least favorite part of the pattern. i would get my feelings hurt in some oblique not-technically-terrible way, and then it would be making a big deal about something. you'd get frustrated for me for being soft, but i was born soft. you knew i was soft when you pierced me. it's one of the things that made controlling me so easy.

"i'm not," i felt my voice crack. the question came without my wanting. "why are you guys talking about me?" and why are you saying that thing? why not like - i'm telling them how you're generous and kind and pretty.

you let out this low, tragic groan. "oh my god." you tossed the phone away from your body. "there, see? i just won't talk to them if you don't like it."

the rest of the hour went the way it always went, between us: i said i don't actually mind if you talk to your friends but -, you found a way to call my minor expression of discomfort "being dramatic." you got upset that i had been offended. i ended up apologizing, even though i hadn't actually done anything.

afterwards, you picked up the phone again. after texting for a little bit, you snorted. "okay," you said, "but it is kind of funny you're afraid of the dark. i mean, when you think about it."

[abstractfrog]

Happy 1 year anniversary to Mr Sherlock Holmes! Here's a litttleee celebratory comic from me

[reineydraws]

✨️ BROTHERS! ✨️

(shouto will live out his idle childhood daydreams, even if he has to reverse their roles himself haha)

[catgrandpa]

Gotham has always been weird, so when the groundskeeper at the cemetery noticed the Wayne kid’s plot was disturbed, he just chalked it up to more of the same ol’. Alright, so ‘disturbed’ may be a tad too light of a word, but what’s an empty grave in the grand scheme of Gotham? God knows in a city like this one, they could use all the burial room they could get. He figured he’d just jot it down on the website and hope nobody noticed for a while.

Too bad he didn’t account for the 13 year old boy in Bristol who periodically checks the cemetery’s website when he’s feeling particularly lonely.

Plot Removed.

Tim Drake stared at the two words under the heading for Jason Todd’s plot number. Removed? What do they mean ‘removed’? They can’t just remove a plot? That’s a person down there! That’s Robin down there! You can’t Remove Robin!

Calm down. Deep breaths. Assess the situation.

Robin has been dead for 5 months and 14 days. There is no reason for a grave to be removed that early, especially one of a member of such an affluential family. Chances are likely it’s a simple clerical issue. He can call first thing in the morning and make them aware of the mistake. He can have it all fixed in 5 hours.

Just a phone call.

In 5 hours.

…

Tim hates talking on the phone almost as much as he hates waiting.

Well it won’t be the first time he’s snuck out to head to Gotham proper at 1am. It can’t even really be considered sneaking out if there’s no one home to catch you.

Buses stop running at 2, so he layers a couple sweaters under his coat and grabs his best running sneakers so he can comfortably make the trek back.

Just a quick trip to settle his nerves. Maybe get a few shots in if he spots Batman, but really he just wants to see with his own two eyes that things are okay and Jason can rest.

It’s 1:37 by the time he gets to the headstone reading ‘Here Lies Jason Todd’ and the gaping, muddy pit in front of it.

This- This doesn’t make any sense. This is not removal. This is destruction. Desecration. Somebody did this. Somebody-

Assess the situation.

A hole in the ground, approximately 1.5 feet in diameter.

Mud and grass flung outward but with little force.

Large chunks of earth turned over and shoved away.

No signs of tool marks or clean lines of entry into the dirt.

Dragging claw marks.

Staggering, shuffled pairs of foot prints in the mud.

A trail of dirt.

Something… Something large clawed its way out of the ground here. Something large and bipedal and- and humanoid.

Tim refuses to jump to any conclusions he can see all the facts laid in front of him. He’s going to cautiously follow the trail and simply hope to any god listening that he isn’t the world’s first line of defense against the zombie apocalypse.

He’s been walking for 23 minutes and there’s good news and undecided news. Good news: he’s closing in on the target and the trail isn’t taking him out of the way so his trip home won’t be prolonged. Undecided news: The potential Zombie Robin is heading directly for Wayne Manor.

As zombie apocalypse news, this is very bad. From Tim’s collected observational evidence, his not-so-professional opinion is that Batman, faced with a horror movie level zombie of his dead son, would not respond well, and would likely not fight back.

In Batman and Robin news? Tim’s unsure. If Jason is simply back? What could that mean for them? Batman can have his Robin. He wouldn’t have to continue nearly killing others and himself every night in his grief. Jason could-

No. Stop. Do not jump to conclusions.

Hope only brings heartbreak.

What would Batman do? Get close and see if the target is a threat.

Target is male. Mid-teens. Dark hair. Pale skin. Leaning against surfaces as he walks. Appears injured and disoriented.

Minimal risk assessed. Approaching and attempting contact.

Target identity confirmed: Jason Todd.

“J-Jason?” It comes out as a croaked whisper. Jason shows no sign of acknowledgment.

Tim clears his throat, steps right in front of his path, and tries again.

“Jason. Jason, stop I want to help you.” Still nothing.

“Please, Jason. I can help, I promise I can help!”

Why isn’t this working?! Why can’t he just do something right for once?! He wants this to work, he wants to help Bruce, he wants to fix Batman, he wants to not be alone, he wants-

“Robin!”

Robin jerks to a stop.

Tim reached out his hand.

“Robin. Robin please, I’m sorry you’re going through this, it’s really scary, I’m really scared. But I just want to help you. Help you find Batman. Help you get home.”

Jason just stares at him. Of course he does. Of course it’s not going to work. Why did he even bother hoping he could help?

Hope only brings heartbreak.

His sight blurs as his eyes fill with tears and he starts to lower his outstretched hand.

His arm is slowed as a cold hand weakly grasps his own.

“Don’t… scared… Bat… help… Dad… help.”

A relieved sob tears out from Tim’s chest and he gathers himself together. He yanks his extra sweater off and gently pulls it over Jason’s cold shoulders. Jason lets Tim drag his arm over his shoulders to try and carry some of his weight.

“Okay, Robin. Yeah. Your dad will help us.”

Batman will solve everything once Tim gets Robin home.

[mumblesplash]

in honor of last season’s poem being called “”end poem”” (all quotes mandatory) this season i made one out of pieces of the actual end poem

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

I hope you take this as the compliment it is intended to be, but you strike the same chord of irreverence-as-love, jokes-to-showcase-sencerity that I get from Chuck Tingle, and I adore both of you.

You have bestowed the greatest honour upon me.

[bacchuschucklefuck]

they tried to rebrand as The Criminals but riz is literally the city council's treasurer and also turns out people in their late 20s don't really name their friend groups. so now they're The Intrepid Heroes

[katabay]

ONCE UPON A TIME, THERE WAS A KNIGHT...

the visual inspiration for this was a combination of Frederic William Burton's Meeting on the Turret Stairs and also Bernardo Cavallino's The vision of St. Dominic receiving the Rosary from the Virgin

this was supposed to be just a one off illustration to get the thoughts out of my system, but then I started thinking about medieval politics and warfare and plagues and a castle and home as both a place of refuge, a prison, and a tomb, so perhaps they will end up as ex voto characters as well.

you may say, hey! that rosary looks like it has too many beads! it's a fifteen decade rosary, probably. dominicans are really into marian devotions. it works out.

also. spiral style stair cases. oh boy. it was that unexpectedly more difficult than I originally thought it would be to draw. the more I think about it, the less I understand them, even though I had a million photos of the stairs in front of me while I was drawing it.

⭐ I have a tip jar (ko-fi)!

⭐ and other places I’m at! bsky / pixiv / pillowfort /cohost / cara.app

[bunnieswithknives]

Thanks.

Prev

[voiice-of-the-soul]

It irritates me alot when people say that making medic more compassionate is ''missing the point of his character'' when he is literally shown to be in the comics.... did you miss the part where he showed concern for both sniper and miss pauling's well being in comic 5 and 6.

His actions are a combination of genuine attachment + clinical interest and these things do not cancel out one another. He is always pushing boundaries and going against the grain and i think this is what led to him losing his license in the first place. He felt stifled by the rules imposed on him.

He is shown to be extremely passionate so it makes sense that he would use his endless fascination with medicine as a way to show his affection. He loves his friends so he will find a way to make them borderline indestructible. Malpractice is his love language.

[tea-cat-arts]

Shen Yuan getting transported into pidw isn't "the system punishing him for being a lazy internet hater," but instead representative of "step 1 of the creative process: getting so mad at something you decide to go write your own fucking book" in this essay I will

[inkskinned]

the thing about art is that it was always supposed to be about us, about the human-ness of us, the impossible and beautiful reality that we (for centuries) have stood still, transfixed by music. that we can close our eyes and cry about the same book passage; the events of which aren't real and never happened. theatre in shakespeare's time was as real as it is now; we all laugh at the same cue (pursued by bear), separated hundreds of years apart.

three years ago my housemates were jamming outdoors, just messing around with their instruments, mostly just making noise. our neighbors - shy, cautious, a little sheepish - sat down and started playing. i don't really know how it happened; i was somehow in charge of dancing, barefoot and laughing - but i looked up, and our yard was full of people. kids stacked on the shoulders of parents. old couples holding hands. someone had brought sidewalk chalk; our front walk became a riot of color. someone ran in with a flute and played the most astounding solo i've ever heard in my life, upright and wiggling, skipping as she did so. she only paused because the violin player was kicking his heels up and she was laughing too hard to continue.

two weeks ago my friend and i met in the basement of her apartment complex so she could work out a piece of choreography. we have a language barrier - i'm not as good at ASL as i'd like to be (i'm still learning!) so we communicate mostly through the notes app and this strange secret language of dancers - we have the same movement vocabulary. the two of us cracking jokes at each other, giggling. there were kids in the basement too, who had been playing soccer until we took up the far corner of the room. one by one they made their slow way over like feral cats - they laid down, belly-flat against the floor, just watching. my friend and i were not in tutus - we were in slouchy shirts and leggings and socks. nothing fancy. but when i asked the kids would you like to dance too? they were immediately on their feet and spinning. i love when people dance with abandon, the wild and leggy fervor of childhood. i think it is gorgeous.

their adults showed up eventually, and a few of them said hey, let's not bother the nice ladies. but they weren't bothering us, they were just having fun - so. a few of the adults started dancing awkwardly along, and then most of the adults. someone brought down a better sound system. someone opened a watermelon and started handing out slices. it was 8 PM on a tuesday and nothing about that day was particularly special; we might as well party.

one time i hosted a free "paint along party" and about 20 adults worked quietly while i taught them how to paint nessie. one time i taught community dance classes and so many people showed up we had to move the whole thing outside. we used chairs and coatracks to balance. one time i showed up to a random band playing in a random location, and the whole thing got packed so quickly we had to open every door and window in the place.

i don't think i can tell you how much people want to be making art and engaging with art. they want to, desperately. so many people would be stunning artists, but they are lied to and told from a very young age that art only matters if it is planned, purposeful, beautiful. that if you have an idea, you need to be able to express it perfectly. this is not true. you don't get only 1 chance to communicate. you can spend a lifetime trying to display exactly 1 thing you can never quite language. you can just express the "!!??!!!"-ing-ness of being alive; that is something none of us really have a full grasp on creating. and even when we can't make what we want - god, it feels fucking good to try. and even just enjoying other artists - art inherently rewards the act of participating.

i wasn't raised wealthy. whenever i make a post about art, someone inevitably says something along the lines of well some of us aren't that lucky. i am not lucky; i am dedicated. i have a chronic condition, my hands are constantly in pain. i am not neurotypical, nor was i raised safe. i worked 5-7 jobs while some of these memories happened. i chose art because it mattered to me more than anything on this fucking planet - i would work 80 hours a week just so i could afford to write in 3 of them.

and i am still telling you - if you are called to make art, you are called to the part of you that is human. you do not have to be good at it. you do not have to have enormous amounts of privilege. you can just... give yourself permission. you can just say i'm going to make something now and then - go out and make it. raquel it won't be good though that is okay, i don't make good things every time either. besides. who decides what good even is?

you weren't called to make something because you wanted it to be good, you were called to make something because it is a basic instinct. you were taught to judge its worth and over-value perfection. you are doing something impossible. a god's ability: from nothing springs creation.

a few months ago i found a piece of sidewalk chalk and started drawing. within an hour i had somehow collected a small classroom of young children. their adults often brought their own chalk. i looked up and about fifteen families had joined me from around the block. we drew scrangly unicorns and messed up flowers and one girl asked me to draw charizard. i am not good at drawing. i basically drew an orb with wings. you would have thought i drew her the mona lisa. she dragged her mother over and pointed and said look! look what she drew for me and, in the moment, i admit i flinched (sorry, i don't -). but the mother just grinned at me. he's beautiful. and then she sat down and started drawing.

someone took a picture of it. it was in the local newspaper. the summary underneath said joyful and spontaneous artwork from local artists springs up in public gallery. in the picture, a little girl covered in chalk dust has her head thrown back, delighted. laughing.

[bixels]

The Ryoko Kui interview's reception is such a disaster over a pretty normal (yet still flawed) interview between a non-Japanese fan and Japanese artistic. This is discourse for discourse's sake, and it's no surprise that almost every Twitter user I've looked at who's using this interview to parade Kui around as a goated mangaka standing strong against Western ideology is anti-trans.

Like, I do think the interview was kinda wonky with its focus on fandom culture, which Kui clearly didn't have much interest in. But sometimes that happens. Sometimes interactions between two people, especially a fan and a creator, two people who view and interact with a piece of media in completely opposite perspectives, don't click. Does this really need to get blown up into a "West vs. East culture war" issue.

Anyways, Kui saying "I don't consider my audience's interpretations when writing. I leave it to their imaginations, but I have my own read on things too" is the healthiest, most normal thing an artist/writer who wants a non-parasocial audience could say. Artists and writers use this line all the time. If Kui didn't enjoy autistic Laius or Farcille headcanons, she would have probably voiced/signalled her discomfort, like she did on the topic of Senshi fanservice. Overall, Kui handled the interview really well. Props to her to sticking to her guns and keeping a healthy disconnect from the fandom. While I think the interviewer could've/should've been more tactful and restrained, the flaws in their questions is not a symptom of the woke mind virus trying to wriggle its way into the pure Japanese psyche. It's the sign of an over-eager fan who sees a piece of fiction differently than its creator.