#i got carried away y'all

[bandedbulbussnarfblat]

ok, so my latest crack theory that will definitely not be true is that in iwtv jesse reeves is one of daniel's daughters.

ok, so here according the the wiki "Jesse was born to Miriam Reeves, a seventeen-year-old girl who was raped by an older unidentified male. Miriam, seven months pregnant with Jesse, was driving a car when she got into an accident. Miriam was killed in the crash, but Jesse miraculously was aborted from her mother's womb and survived unharmed."

we're going to ignore the underage rape part, because anne rice loved sprinkling rape into her books, and honestly we don't need more of that.

Now, in the books Jesse was born in 1955 and turned in 1985. However, they do say that she's 35 in the book, so she was probably born closer to 1950. But this is information we get from the books.

considering how they've changed around the timelines already, I think we're going to get our qotd as like, a sort of ending. they'll have akasha set up as the big bad, and probably include so stuff with amel and the sacred core and whatever. so i think those events haven't transpired in this universe yet.

i saw a theory floating around that alice died, and daniel blames himself for her death. (as for the name bit, Alice could be one of those people that go by their middle name or something. or they just straight up change her name.)

ok so what if Alice is out driving, 7 months pregnant. (maybe Daniel was supposed to drive her wherever, and he flakes, so she has to drive herself. and there's that blaming himself bit) anyway she crashes her car. she dies in the crash, but jesse is able to be saved.

in the books, maharet (a super old vampire who also conceived a child via rape while she was a human witch, expect the guy didn't really have a choice since Akasha ordered him to do and she was the fucking queen of Egypt. but enough about that. i'm just saying anne rice overused the rape thing) takes jesse and gives her to this rich new york couple maria and matthew godwin, bc jesse is a descendant of her, through the baby she had before being a vampire.

maybe here she sees jesse has a father and decides to let him keep her. (but they would still communicate in secret). So Daniel would probably be a mess, and a single father. he'd probably get remarried as quickly as possible, just to have someone help raise his kids. which would of course probably factor into that later divorce.

and after his book comes out, maybe it makes her question things so she goes and sees him. and she gets really into the idea of vampires and starts researching, and eventually joins the talamasca somehow

is this going to ever be a canon thing? no. (though i can possibly see jesse being the researcher he mentions in episode one)

[sinnabee]

You do moons ass Mondays right

so do suns ass Sundays

your wish is my command, anon

everyone say hello to sun ass sunday. but of course, as the rule goes... suns out? guns out. >:3c

i will be barring the castle doors and fortifying my defenses in preparation for the uprising, but no, i am not sorry for this

[outofcontextdanandphil]

Some interesting choice of words

[semperamans]

yk that one clip of joseph quinn fixing lupita nyongos dress strap when i slipped on the red carpet and picturing benny doing that so casually GIRLL

grrrrrrr woof woof woof woof woof woof woof woof

also known as the two times benny adjusts your clothing and the one time he doesn't :) (ft johnny because i am so insane)

slight voyeurism? LOL! i am FUCKING NUTS and i am so sorry! smut happens below the read more line, so only venture down there if you feel up for it!

it’s the first day of summer and benny couldn’t be any happier even if he tried. the guys think he’s snorting something or off his fucking rocker because he’s smiling. he’s got that dazed, happy-go-lucky look he usually only has when you’re around, but this is constant and has been since the club made the three hour journey to this lakeside piece of paradise. it’s not like a run where benny has to stay on high alert. it’s not club business, more of a family gathering, and he’s is just happy. can’t a guy be fuckin’ happy? right now he’s laying on the sun warmed grass, tan skin still glistening with leftover lake kisses. he can hear cockroach and his son somewhere over on the rickety pier, their bobbers plinking in the water, and the not-so-welcome advice from zipco who is a self-proclaimed master fisher. corky, cal, and sonny are hunting for frogs, the fucking bozos, with their swim trunks pulled up to their belly buttons, knees sinking quickly into the sweet smelling swell of the lakeside. they’re giggling damn near louder than the girls who are bouncing each other popcorn style on the trampoline and, fuck, benny just really likes life right now and likes it even better when something blocks the sun from his face and he opens his eyes to sees you. you’re wearing a swimsuit and a big smile and benny can’t help it. he reaches up, grabbing your arm, and with a swift pull, you’re toppling onto him. a squealing giggle bursts from your lips as you attempt to squirm away, but it’s no use. ��you’re gettin’ me all wet!” “thought you liked when i did that?” your eyes widen, hand playfully coming to cup his mouth shut. in all the commotion your swimsuit strap has slipped and now loosely dangles near your elbow where benny just can’t help but look. you move together, your hand sliding from his mouth, fingers brushing through his damp curls; his callused fingertips birthing goosebumps as he situates the strap to its rightful position. “gimme a kiss?” he asks, taking your face between his palms. he tastes like summer.

the days melt into one another all hot and sticky like dripping ice cream. summer’s heat is unrelenting and benny has an almost radiant golden glow to his skin. the respite from the city has all of you slowing down, appreciating the little things: the way the sun tucks herself into the lake at night, the sweet zing of homemade tea, the giggle of gail and brucie's baby girl, and how capturing these moments together somehow bring each of you closer. it's not hard to adjust to this lifestyle. your days consist of swimming and baking and laughing and drinking and telling stories and hiking and you even find a liking for astronomy when the stars you’re studying happen to form new constellations on benny’s shoulders and down his spine. somehow he's more handsome here, if it's possible and tonight he's hauntingly beautiful in the sun's dying glow and angelic against the wavering bonfire flames that flick warmth over your chilling bodies. you can't stop looking at him but cal, who refuses to sit still, has finally wired that damn radio the right way and it crackles to life. there are cheers all around, beers hoisted skyward as a bluesy country song everyone seems to know hisses out of the aged speakers. perched atop stumps and spread over foldable chairs, a singalong begins. the boys drunkenly toss their arms over one another, lifting their chins to serenade the moon. even benny joins in. he's got one arm around you, the other holding tightly to johnny's waist as he sings with this elvis-like intonation. he looks down at you and can't explain it but you just look like you're his. maybe it's the t-shirt you're wearing, but no, it can't be. it's gotta be johnny's, benny's shirts are big on you but not so big that the collar droops down past your collarbone. benny likes it and grins and tells you he likes it and rights the fabric before pinching your cheek because god you're fucking cute.

it's five beers, four shots, and three singalongs later when johnny notices two people are missing. he rises, all wobbly legs and swirling colorful flashes as he extracts himself from the group. when did you and benny slip away? he can't seem to remember and it's not a big deal, not really, but he misses the two of you and just wants to see what you're up to and oh. he shouldn't be watching but his feet have grown roots. he can only see benny at first; the corded muscles in his back waning and flexing with exertion. but then he hears you. my god. the soft little gasp you puff into the air, the way you so delicately say benny's name like you're savoring the flavor of each letter-dragging them out, rolling them over your tongue. johnny shouldn't be watching. shouldn't be watching. can't stop watching. can't turn away. can't stop himself from uprooting his feet and moving over, over, over until he can see both of you clearly. you're pressed against someone's car, one hand splayed over the candy-red paint the other on benny's shoulder, nails biting into the flesh and johnny feels like a fucking freak and maybe he is but he'll worry about that later because benny. benny. benny. that's what you keep saying and your eyes are watery, he can make out their glint through the darkness thanks to the moonlight and he knows you, knows you cry when there’s a lot going on and there is a lot going on. there is pure desperation in your voice and you’re making these delicate preening whines and fuck you're still wearing the shirt. his shirt. the shirt you slipped from his bag then so innocently swore you didn't take. his shirt. and maybe you and benny want him there and that's why you're still wearing that shirt while benny, while he- jesus. it's rucked up and dirty and pooling over the leg you've got thrown around benny's hip but you don't make any move to fix it and now you're close. somehow the three of you are already so close to the edge and how special is that? sharing something so intimate even though you and benny have no idea. close. that's what you say as you bury your face into benny's neck, as your nails bite deeper and draw blood. close as you look up and lock eyes with johnny then you're no longer close but tumbling over the brink and down into rippling, blissful oblivion.

[munadrawson]

[Inspired post] Click and Open image for HQ! [Ko-fi] | [Twitter] | [Instagram]

💙👉👈💛

[trustiskingandqueen]

💕💖💕

inspired by this pic

[anonymousbeefriendfanfics]

Hello and welcome to another installment of mossy being horny on main. Tonights programme? Gimmeee. The reactions of Zoya,maybe Shalom and your boy Lyney at the sight of their s/o dressed in an oversized band tshirt and an oversized band tshirt

:3

Note: This is supposed to say "an oversized band tshirt and nothing underneath" ;)

Fandoms: Path to Nowhere, Genshin Impact Characters: Zoya (PtN), Shalom (PtN), Lyney (GI) Warnings: NSFW, Minors beware! Slight Spoilers for Shalom's story. Mentions of: pegging, slight choking, Domme Zoya, teasing, oral (gn), penetration (gn), semi-submissive Lyney,

Zoya

Oh boy. Ohhhhh boy.

Instant turn on. She drops whatever she's doing - literally, if necessary, she doesn't care what breaks so long as she gets to break you.

For a long moment, she just stares. Appreciates the way the oversized shirt falls just past the curve of your ass, how something so baggy somehow accentuates the shape of your body so nicely. It's practically lingerie, watching you wear something like that.

And if you just so happen to bend over within her line of sight, or reach for something off a high shelf and cause your shirt to ride up, revealing that there's nothing underneath... good lord, it's almost embarrassing how turned on she is.

She's sweeping you off your feet and carrying you to the nearest flat surface, be it the bed, couch, or even a chair or the dinner table. She is not a patient woman. She will have you, and she will have you now.

She leaves your side only long enough to fetch her strap-on, and then she's bending you over whatever object it is that she's chosen for today's session. Normally, she holds your hips while she does this, but today she grips the sides of your shirt, allowing it to choke you slightly - or more than slightly, if you're into that - as she gives it to you hard and rough, relishing in every little gasp and moan and cry that leaves your pretty mouth.

She's not gonna stop until you come at least three times, and then she's helping move your spent body into a sitting or lying position so you can give her some pleasure, too. If you're too drained to manage that, then she'll just get herself off to the sight of you looking like such a mess while you watch <3

Shalom

Oh my. When you walk in wearing that, she's practically drooling over you just from the first glimpse. Whatever she's busy with is immediately tomorrow's problem. It doesn't matter anymore. Nothing matters but you.

Shalom still isn't very used to her newfound emotions - much less being able to feel and show them freely - and lust is one of the ones she struggles with the most. The burning-hot desire she feels is all-consuming and difficult to keep contained.

She seems to glitch at first. You turn around after a while of innocently pretending to do something else, only to find her staring at you, her eyes dark with lust. You can't tell from the way she's sitting, but she's got her thighs squeezed together in a subconscious effort to relieve her growing need.

You pretend to knock a pen off a nearby table and bend to retrieve it, flaunting your bare skin, and that snaps her out of it. She's out of the chair in a flash, crossing the room with long strides accentuated by the steady click of her shoes on the tile floor. She's by your side in mere moments, just as you straighten up. The pen falls from your grasp as she pulls you close and kisses you, one of her hands sliding beneath your shirt and caressing your body.

"You don't know what you do to me when you dress like that, my dear," she whispers when you break away for air, her lips brushing yours before she kisses her way down your jaw to your collarbone.

She soon grows bored of just kissing you, however, and leads you back to the desk where she's been working. She shoves her paperwork to the side - incredibly uncharacteristic for Shalom, but it shows just how needy she is. And then she's pushing your shirt up to your hips and instructing you to sit on the desk.

When you obey her, she's pulling up her chair, pushing your legs apart as she begins to taste your thighs, slowly working her way up, closer and closer to where you need her touch the most. She takes her sweet time, but once she gives you what you want, ohh is it worth it. Her mouth is incredible, and she puts that quick tongue of hers to good use, teasing and edging you until you feel like you're going to lose your mind.

When she finally lets you go over the edge and you come on her tongue, it's one of the best orgasms you've ever experienced. Your fingernails dig into the underside of her desk so hard you leave permanent crescent-shaped marks there, and occasionally Shalom will run her fingertip across them and think of this. You really should wear that shirt more often.

Lyney

For Lyney, let's say that it's not an oversized band t-shirt you're wearing... no, you're wearing a long white button-up shirt. Ideally, it's one of his, perhaps even the one he was wearing yesterday. It still smells like him, which is an immediate turn on for you, but as for our dear magician...

He's oblivious at first. You'll walk in the kitchen and greet him, and he'll give you a good morning kiss and say whatever poetic thoughts pop into his mind first, and then he turns to get more coffee.

And then he freezes mid-stride, and you can practically see the gears turning in his head, processing everything. After several long seconds, he spins around, lavender eyes wide as they meet yours and then flick downwards, taking in your attire as his mouth goes dry.

It's incredibly attractive watching him get turned on. His eyes darken with lust, pupils dilating almost like a cat's, his breathing starts to get heavier, and that blush you adore so much begins to appear on his cheeks - soon it will spread to his ears and begin creeping down onto his chest, too.

"Oh-ho, what's this?" He asks, trying to salvage the situation, trying to pretend his brain hasn't been turned to mush with a single glance. You cheerfully reply that it's nothing much - well, that much is true, but only in a literal sense- and you turn to go about your day, intending to grab something off a bottom shelf just to give him a little peek beneath the shirt.

You don't get a chance, however. He's behind you as though by magic, his arms snaking around your waist as he hugs you tightly against his chest, and oh- he's already hard. "Ma cherie, just what do you- ahh-" You cut him off by wiggling your hips, rubbing against the growing bulge in his pants. He nuzzles his face against your neck, pressing feather-light kisses there, and you can feel his hot breath against your skin. "Not fair," he mumbles between kisses. "You know I can't think straight when you do that..."

He spins you around, taking another long look at you. You look incredible in just his shirt, and he can't resist you any longer - he's pushing you against the nearest wall, his mouth on your neck and hands all over your body. He mumbles praises against your skin, trying his best to still be suave and poetic even when all he can think about is you.

The makeout session lasts for as long as both of you can stand it, both of you quickly growing more and more needy. Soon Lyney is grinding against your hip, and you eventually have to push him off - he's so drunk on you that you know he'd keep going until he came in his pants without even realizing it, but you want more.

You lead him over to the nearest couch and he follows close behind you, eager to obey - and also to get another look at the way he can just barely glimpse your upper thighs beneath the shirt. His pants hit the floor almost immediately, and he breathes a sigh of relief at the freedom, then bites his lip to choke back a moan as you run your hand across his length.

He's pushed down into the couch, and he looks up at you with that delightful lustdrunk look you've come to anticipate. His face is flushed and he looks oh so eager as he reaches for you, gripping the front of the shirt and pulling you down to kiss him again.

You waste no time climbing into his lap and sinking down on him. He feels so good inside of you, but what you feel can't compare to what you see and hear - the low whine that escapes his throat, the way his head falls back momentarily as you sink lower until he's fully sheathed within you.

It's hot and passionate as the two of you get tangled up together, bodies pressed so close there's no space left between you. Despite his desperation, Lyney controls himself, doing everything within his power to make you feel good, to make you whine his name. You, on the other hand, want nothing more than to hear his voice hitch as he moans, and you don't stop until he's practically unable to string a sentence together without whimpering or moaning your name.

Once you finally go over the edge, the way you cry out his name, throbbing around him, he can't hold it back a second longer - he bites your shoulder as his orgasm washes over him, muffling the noises he makes as he nearly blacks out from the intense pleasure. When he comes down, he's trembling in your arms while you stroke his hair, telling him how incredible he is, and he's never felt better.

Writing Masterlist 🐝 Requests Open! Tag List 🐝 @mossmosis

[aimbutmiss]

It was another long night in the office for Crocodile.

To be fair, it was never intentional. He always reminded himself to retreat to his sleeping quarters at acceptable hours as he sat down to get some work done, but the idea was forgotten the moment he picked up a document.

So, he had severe time management problems. Whatever.

He dropped the paper he was holding and rubbed his temple with a groan. He was getting too old for sleepless nights like this. But work never ended with Cross Guild. He had a lot of things to overlook, even with the help he had from Daz and Buggy, who surprisingly made quite the good businessman. And maybe he was being a bit too cautious—too detailed with his work, but he found out the hard way that attention to detail payed off. He wasn't new to all this, he had built Baroque Works from ground up and he had also very much done the same with Cross Guild. He was proud of his meticulous work habits. No matter how many sleepless nights he had, it was always worth it.

And he loved his office; it was his safe place. He loved having a little corner to himself, away from everyone and everything. Karai Bari was loud, always home to some type of festivity. Crocodile was never one for such ruckus, and only allowed it because it helped with crew morale. But no matter what stupid thing was going on out there, he could shut it out and hide in the peaceful silence of this room. He could crunch numbers day and night, without having to deal with nightmares in his bed.

Yes, Sir Crocodile had nightmares; for he was human like any other.

He wasn't ashamed of his demons, but he'd never admit it to anyone if asked about it. He had spent years building the strong, powerful persona he had. He had convinced many that he was invincible, without weakness. It would all crumble if the world found out he woke up in cold sweat some nights, tears staining his face.

Monsters did not cry.

He slammed his head on the desk and closed his eyes for a second. Trying to get his much needed rest from a few seconds of shut eye was ridiculous, but it was better than nothing.

Before he could get up and get back to work, the door to his office slowly opened. He could have looked up to see who it was, not that there were many people who would walk into his office in the dead of night, but he decided to act as if he had fallen asleep for some reason. He just... felt like it. He didn't move an inch as footsteps approached closer to his desk.

"That could be a fire hazard, you idiot."

The mysterious intruder turned out to be just Buggy, which was weird. The clown had no reason to pay him a visit, especially not at this hour. The man picked up the lit cigar on the ashtray and put it out. A few second later, he gently laid a blanket on the "sleeping" man's shoulders, making sure he was covered up nicely. He hadn't moved from his place, so he must have detached his hands to pick it up from wherever.

"You don't have to work yourself this hard, you stubborn old man."

Crocodile was suddenly hyper aware of everything: the smell of Buggy's newly washed hair; his hand on his back, drawing slow circles into his tense muscles... He felt himself involuntarily relax into the touch.

"I could have changed you into something more comfortable and carried you to your bed if you weren't built like a fucking sea king. Oh well, this should do for now."

Before his business partner left the room, he could barely feel him give a kiss on his head. Yet it was enough to make the hairs on his neck stand up.

Buggy walked to the door, trying his best to be silent, and shut the lights. He left with a gentle whisper of "Good night." and Crocodile didn't have it in himself to get up for the next... God knows how long.

Before he knew it, he had fallen asleep just like that. When he woke up the next morning, he had mild back pain from sleeping while hunched over a chair. But despite that, he hadn't slept so well in ages.

No nightmares, just a warm blanket and the lingering smell of shampoo.

[littledead-ridinghood]

I have personal beef with Lobdell's "hence the name, Red Hood" panel when Jason picks up that poor, abused dog in RH:O. Which logically I know is an off the cuff joke but 1. Lobdell likes to simplify Jason and his motives all the time (which he could’ve been doing here) 2. I’ve seen a lot of people say they don’t get why/the connection/deeper meaning/etc. Jason picked his name or 3. people who want Jason to drop RH & pick up a new vigilante identity without (or before) Jason getting his full circle closure

(First: can Jason please have a companion again. And can they be given a real name this time? Not Lobdell’s lazy out? Give that man another dog or fuxk, let him pick up a cat that was abandoned in the rain. Please???)

anyway, main attraction:

Within that spread, Scott Lobdell wrote that Jason picked the name because he's awful at naming things and went with the most basic, obvious choice, Red Hood. This is an incredible disservice to why Jason chose to take his mantle specifically.

Imagine you're Batman, a fledgling vigilante who abides by a strict no-kill moral code. It's your first or so year manning the streets of a massive, corrupt city--Gotham--and you still aren't fully sure of what you're doing. The criminal underworld still isn't even convinced you're real. One of the first big cases you bust, a man who calls himself the Red Hood, dies. you play accomplice to the man falling into a vat of chemicals even as you try to save him. He dies. You killed a man due to your own mistakes.

But you didn't. Not really.

The man comes back under a new name--the Joker--and becomes one of your most prominent enemies. The guilt eats you alive. You dub him your greatest failure. The guilt complex and strengthened moral platitudes refuse to let him die, let alone kill the man. Only "saving him" will relieve you of the grief. Your guilt, your grief, God, your god complex, something is too big for you to admit you can't save everyone including the problems you inadvertently create.

You take in a boy, a ward--Dick Grayson--because the city won’t let a single bachelor like Brucie Wayne adopt him. You’re his brother, you’re his spandex-wearing partner, you’re not his father (he has a father, he doesn’t want you to be his father) but you’re also not not his father; it’s complicated. You didn't want him to turn into you and he creates his own mantle--Robin--to honor his parents.

You and him are partners for many years--Batman and Robin: The Dynamic Duo. Until, one day, The Joker shoots him in the shoulder and he falls off a building on live TV. The city’s populace is upheaved, believing Robin is dead. Demanding Batman be held responsible for his negligence, for even having a underaged partner in the first place. You agree. The field is no place for a child, you decide to keep him so. Robin, the child, is dead, killed by the Joker. Dick Grayson, now a man, is alive and blazing his own trail--Nightwing.

So one child-to-man moves on. And one stays behind. Weeks, months, pass and, you refuse to admit it, you're lonely.

You find another boy--Jason Todd (found in the same location and on the anniversary your parents were murdered in the part of town you only visit once a year)--stealing your tires. Not Bruce Wayne's tires. Batman's tires. He makes you laugh, audaciously so. He takes you down with a tire jack and, God, he’s fast and feisty. (He thought you were going to kill him. You don’t loiter on the thought: it makes your stomach turn). You track him down to retrieve your tires. He tells you he doesn't want to be a criminal, he takes what he needs to survive. He's starving.

You try to stay out of it (all you do is check what happened to his missing dad--murdered--and sick mom--heroin was what got her in the end). You push him towards education. He doesn't trust the cops. He doesn't trust the system. He doesn't trust adults. He hardly trusts you. He tells you about a case, that the school is bad, but believes you only half listen--brush him off like every other person in his life. You follow up. He follows up.

You ask him to be Robin. He accepts.

Later, you adopt him.

Dick's mad at you for giving away his title without asking, to a child nonetheless. (“You said the field was no place for a child!”) You snap at him, say you missed him. (You keep telling Gordan that Jason's no child. That he's seen too much, is more experienced than either of them combined. You don't say this to Dick).

He leaves but he gives Jason his number and his blessing. The kid's torn up about it, you can tell (see the doubt eat him alive of if he should be wearing those colors. Your butler? Your father?--Alfred--tells you to stop comparing the boys--good or not).

That doubt sticks with him. That past experience sticks with him. He urges you to help the poorer parts of the city, especially the places where Batman only visits once a year (The first time he goes back after getting Jason isn’t as bad as all the times before). He fights for his people. He’s tied to Gotham in ways you aren’t. Sees things you don’t. Knows things you don’t. People who can’t stand you, love him.

You keep hearing him crying over his dead mother and watch him lose it against rapists. He advocated for the woman that killed the man who murdered 12 women including her sister even though Batman and Robin aren’t supposed to endorse extra judicial work like that. He breaks a man’s collarbone for taking pictures of naked children. He thinks the “Dress-ups” won’t ever stop because Batman’s only weapon is fear and they aren’t afraid. He once said life’s a game. Monopoly, Bruce assumes he means.

Drugs are easier than rape to catch a man on, and the boy is furious that the perpetrator is only being sent back to his home country. ("he'll just hurt the women over there! He won't stop!" He's in hysterics).

A young woman is dead. The boy found her body. A man falls to his death a man is pushed to his death is dead. The boy was the last one to be with him. You bench him, but you forget that you asked him to be Robin first and a son second.

He runs away. A birth mom--Shelia Haywood, you eventually learn. He's missing. It has to wait. The Joker's out again. You have to prevent your greatest failure from becoming bigger. (He shot Barbara earlier this year)

You leave the boy with his birth mom by the warehouse. You have to go after the Joker. The Joker has killed and killed and killed. Will continue to kill. The boy is dead. He killed the boy. The mother says he was good. He's nothing more than broken bones and mangled limbs. She's...not.

Your greatest failure murdered your boy. His body’s already getting cold when you find hi—the body. The corpse. You hold it. Because it’s an it now, not a him.

You go after the Joker. The pilot is shot. You don't try to kill the Joker, but you don't bring him with you as you jump. The helicopter crashes. You don't even think he's dead; unresolved as per usual.

You failed to protect him. You failed. And he’s dead.

Superman pulls you from the ocean.

You go home and Alfred meets you once you get off the plane. He tells you it's not your fault, the boy had it coming. The murdered boy--a Good Solider, buried next to his bio-mother in Gotham Cemetery--is dubbed your new biggest failure.

Dick's in space and would miss the funeral, so you decide instead to not tell him there was a funeral at all. At least someone will still think Jason’s alive. At least someone will keep Jason alive through their belief. It’s not like Dick’ll find out. They weren’t that close anyway (Dick & Jason or you & him?)

When Dick does eventually find out, because of course he obviously does, he's furious. It's the first time you punch your first Robin. (You don't know it yet, but it won't be the last time, not for Dick and not for some other so-called family members.)

Robin is dead. Far deader than Dick Grayson ever was. He did it to himself. He thought it was a game. Dick doesn’t get it. He was better. He was alive.

(You can’t admit he’s become your son out loud. Hardly even in your head. It’s fine. Dick is the same about your fatherhood. Like father, like son)

You blame it on Jason's death. It changed you. He changed you. It's his fault. Everyone follows suit.

You leave the Joker in a body cast for six months. He gets out again. Luckily you have a new Robin--Tim Drake. He's not Jason. You can see it in his eyes that he knows that's a good thing. Gotham doesn’t even know the second one is dead. They believe Tim’s second one. Gordan even asked if he’s finally hit his growth spurt. 4’6 the death certificate said. That’s okay. No one needs to knows.

(Park Row Crime Alley knows. They know who’s theirs and who isn’t. Batman and Robin aren’t welcomed down there anymore)

(The first anniversary you visit your parents yours and his first meeting spot after Jason’s death feels like Ethiopia all over again)

A blonde girl is Robin now--Stephanie Brown. You tell her she's like Jason. She can tell you mean it as a bad thing but never processes it through her mind. You're trying to lure Tim back. A city-wide gang war wrecks Gotham. She's dead. Tortured by Black Mask and died on the operation table.

There's talk around the underworld, unified under Black Mask, a new gang leader's been making waves for months. You just heard about him tonight (a duffle bag full of heads told you): The Red Hood. You know that name. It’s a punch to the gut. Your first failure.

(“You’re getting slow, old man!)

He did what you've been trying to do for years in a matter of weeks: He overtook the entire Gotham underworld. He’s running circles around everyone. He pits you against the underground, keeps you busy, and he gets what he needs to be done Scot-Free. You hardly ever see him around. Only when he wants you to see him, do you. You don’t like things you aren’t in control of.

He doesn't want anyone dealing to kids. He likes bombs, but they're contained. Implosions, not explosions. He kills and is on par with Batman himself (he cut himself free of your line). Red Hood hangs around Crime Alley ("Park Row!" Jason would always respond), but no one there will rat him out to The Batman. They won't talk to you. Some of them even seem to...like having the Red Hood around.

He’s managed to bring down the crime rate of the entire city. Somehow.

It's raining. You can't tell. Jason's alive.

Jason's. Alive.

Jason'salivejason'salivejason'salivejason'salivejason'saliveason'salivejason'sal--

Jason's alive.

And he's killing people. And he's spitting in the face of your "sanctimonious" moral code. He laughed at you when he murdered someone in front of you. ("Just be happy I only killed the Nazi!") You tell him he doesn't get it. He responds the same.

(“You can't stop crime," he says along the lines of "Not with fear. But me...I'm controlling it.")

Jason's never had enough fear.

And now he's crying with a gun to his murderer's head. He says he’s not talking about the other rogues, just him. Just the Joker. He throws you a gun. You won't do it--can't do it. You need to save the Joker. To prove that you can. You need to save Jason. To show him this isn't the way. You can't have any more failures.

(“He took me from you!”)

Jason's going to do it himself, he says. "If you want to stop me, you're going to have to shoot me. Right in the face."

You can't let anyone die. You can't let the Joker die. It's your mission. There's so much blood. The batarang had to have had to knick the carotid artery in his neck. No one could survive it. The Joker is cackling with glee. You hear it in the walls of your skull. The bomb goes off. You don’t hear that at all.

Oh God. You killed your so—

You’re still gone, you think

You see Jason on patrol sometimes. High collar and still branding himself as Red Hood. There’s a red bat on his chest now. You don’t think it’s a compliment. The East End loves him. Jason still can't let the Joker go. Can’t—won’t move on.

Not till he's dead he says.

Take a moment to imagine yourself as a fledgling vigilante--Batman.

— — —

Anyway my meta turned into a 2nd POV fic????? but like that's not the point. The point is: That’s the impact of why Jason chose the name he did. It’s important to me that you all recognize these full-circle story beats. Do you see my vision?

Jason planned everything when he made his big debut. You don't think that dramatic-ass bastard thought about the name? Jason is mocking Bruce: both his fears and failures as a vigilante.

But that throwaway line is one of those really minor details that really bug me because it's so easy to throw out a panel and say “Jason's bad at naming things Haha" It's much harder to commit to "show, not tell" where writers have to trust their readers to get between the lines and figure out long-term connections.

As well as it's just another way Lobdell undermines Jason's goals in UtRH by saying "He couldn't think of anything else" compared to Winick's Jason who is laughing and mocking Bruce by taking up the mantle of Red Hood. Showing he's not afraid of what happened to him. Spitting in the face of the world that burned him and yelling “I’m still here!��� Owning it. He's not afraid of Bruce. And he's definitely not afraid of the Joker.

I want Jason to get a new identity one day too but to do so before Jason ever gets his joker closure cuts his story short. (Which is a creative way of saying it’s never gonna happen unfortunately). I think if he gets one before he finishes the story and closes the cycle, it would be the final nail in the “Jason’s a batfamily member” coffin as it would probably be written as “Jason seeing the error of his ways” rather than for himself moving on to heal for himself.

[gareleia]

THE KNITTING SAGA BUT MAKE IT SAD

update: my co-writer friend FINALLY got a tumblr account, so I can tag them now!!

previously: part 1 part 2

next: part 4 part 5

lets talk about relationships, shall we. i'm gonna focus on Athena & Telemachus this time, but Hermes will have his turn later

let's be real, Athena is a hardass. sure, she cares, but she's so emotionally constipated that it really doesn't show that much. especially before she goes through that character development arc after her break up with Odysseus in My Goodbye

(and what a crisis that is)

(because her masterpiece??? failed her??? but she trusted him??? she made him much as in her image as possible??? he was supposed to be perfect???)

(and if he's not perfect, then she failed,,, and she can't fail, she doesn't fail,,, she's a goddess,,, war strategy is her domain, surely there is no way her plan could be flawed,,,)

(what even is the point of her if she's not perfect)

so yeah, she's a hardass. even on baby Telemachus who'd never held a sword before - especially on baby Telemachus, because he's the son of her favored Champion. he may be waaay younger than any of her previous pupils, but she's expecting him to shine just as bright.

Athena, on the first day: let's get down to business! make your father proud! you won't have a weakness! by the time we're done! you're the saddest pupil that I've had! and you haven't got a clue! but I will make a man outta you! Telemachus, a literal toddler, holding a wooden sword as big as himself: ٩(๑❛ᴗ❛๑)۶

and for years to come she trains him relentlessly. she's honestly trying to be nice about it, too. it's just that Athena doesn't do soft or gentle, her default is a neutral face of displeasure, and her idea of encouragement is saying 'you're not as bad as you used to be', or something along these lines.

Telemachus: *succeeds at something* Athena: *raises an eyebrow in a slightly different manner than usually* Telemachus: *le gasp* could it b-be? am I doing a good job??? Athena: it's… acceptable, for your age.

she never once tells him she is proud of him. because surely he already knows. he doesn't need to hear it. his father didn't, after all (ody so fucking did)

and this goes on until Telemachus reaches double digits. then My Goodbye happens, and Athena has Feelings™. she's having an existential crisis, and has to confront the fact that she had done something wrong while training Odysseus, and she can't understand what. which is terrifying, because what if she makes a mistake like that with Telemachus. will he fail her too?

will she have to leave him too, so she doesn't watch him die horribly in a tragedy that could've been prevented if only she had made him see-

so Athena doubles down and starts demanding more and more from Telemachus. the praise goes from sparse to non-existent, and nothing he does seems to be enough anymore. she goes from tough love to borderline verbal abuse, thinking that it's the only way to keep him safe and prepare him for the future.

and Telemachus endures. he has to, because he doesn't want his mother to worry. doesn't want to appear weak. Odysseus had done it, so it's only fair his son should too. and when his dad comes home, he'll be sooo impressed. he can do it!

except…. not really. it's been a losing battle since the beginning, and deep down he knows it. he can't win with Athena, not on his own.

???: if you want to impress her, you'll need the blessing of a certain god! divine intervention! someone who's not afraid to- telemachus: aeolus, what are doing in my closet?!

so anyway, Aeolus and the winions start helping him via winds and stuff, and Telemachus actually starts exceeding everyone's expectations. it's not that he'd been bad before, but he's soft, and not quite strong enough physically to make up for his gentle constitution

everyone is cheering him on. he's the talk of the palace! his mom is so proud! the suitors start sizing him up with consideration instead of dismissing him outright! (and tele, baby, that's not a good thing! ಠ_ಠ). Athena seems pleased for the first time in ages!! but he knows that it's all a lie, and it's killing him.

cause he's a good, honest boye, and he wants to succeed on his own merit, not because of cheating and lying to everyone he loves. that's vile and dishonorable.

que some very important island-wide competition that everyone is expecting him to join and win. maybe it's even his duty as a prince. like, a right of passage from complete boyhood to adolescence.

and there's,,, a lot of pressure on Telemachus to suceed. everyone and their mother are telling him that of course he's got this, he's a prodigy! def his father's son! nobody doubts his incoming victory! he's got this! he definitely won't disappoint them!

random noble: we'll be cheering you on, young prince! truly, we are blessed by the gods to have such a talented successor to the throne! we'll watch with keen eyes as you triumph over your foes and bring even more honor to your family! b(￣▽￣*) telemachus, eye twitching: y-yeah… thank you… (ㆆ _ ㆆ)

so, the night before the competition Telemachus can barely sleep, he's so wrecked by guilt and nerves. he keeps thinking - what would his father do in this situation? all the stories he'd ever heard of Odysseus always painted him as some kind of invincible, righteous, all-capable genius. so the idea of his dad ever grappling with guilt and feelings of inadequacy is just laughable. (oh, if only he knew)

so, he goes to his mom for advice. because Penelope is awesome. but he can't bring himself to admit that's he's cheating - what if she's ashamed of him? he brought dishonor to his father's name, and if anyone knows - will he get exiled?

so yeah, he basically has a panic attack and cries for like, half an hour straight.

telemachus, bawling: if I lose tomorrow, will you hate me? will dad hate me? I can't do anything right and I'm a failure and a horrible person and- just- what do I do, mother? penelope, holding him: oh, love. sometimes you're so similar to your father I wonder if the gods haven't returned him to me in spirit through you.

because no matter what everyone else says, Penelope knows the truth - Odysseus always followed his heart. oh, how he may have tried to forget he had one, to only ever use his head. but a heart he did have - does have, they have to believe that - and it's a bright and gentle one. he may have been hardened by years of pain and struggle in a way that Telemachus hadn't been yet (and Penelope's heart breaks from knowledge that her son will be, one day). but deep down, at ther cores, Odysseus and Telemachus are strikingly similar. and she loves them all the more for it.

and so, with his mother's blessing, the young prince does just as she told him to: follows his heart. he thanks Aeolus for their help, and asks them to stop giving it from now on. either he'll suceed on his own merit, or he'll wear his failure as a badge of honor and an incentive to do better.

and he loses. badly.

and the world,,, doesn't end? sure, the suitors sneer and jeer, but there's a surprising lack of disowning and exile going around. and the nobles tone it down significantly with undeserved adoration, which is definitely a plus, as far as he's concerned.

the only thing is. Athena.

oh boy.

because she's not stupid. Telemachus may have gotten away with cheating so far, but now he'll have to answer to her why he had flunked so badly, and she won't buy his go-to excuse of 'I got nervous!'

athena, expression unreadable: so. care to explain yourself, my stupid pupil? telemachus: w-well, you see… ha-ha… it's, uh… a funny story… athena: you threw away your best advantage! you've had a god perfectly willing to assist you and yet you still somehow managed to lose! telemachus: wait, what-

so yeah, Athena knew all along.

athena, mildly insulted: how stupid do you think I am, boy? telemachus: but! but! but!.. you never said anything! didn't even scold me for cheating! athena, even more insulted: child, I am the goddess of war strategy, where did you get the idea that I ever play fair and straightforward? leave that to ares, the simple-minded fool!

to clarify, she's not upset at him for cheating. she's upset that he stopped doing so. so she throws some choice words at him, implying he lacks both talent and intelligence

and Telemachus defends himself by saying that he'd rather fail on his own merit, than abandon his principles and win by lying and dishonoring his family. in response, she calls him naive.

he tries to implore to her connection to his father by saying that he was just trying to do what's right. he was following his heart, just as Odysseus had always strived to. and he's training to fight for his loved ones, not for glory of being known.

it's a one hit K.O., because it reminds Athena of her recent break-up with Odysseus. of everything they spat at each other during My Goodbye. of anger, of hurt, of disappointment, of betrayal, of I loved you and you failed me, of I loved you and I failed you, of good riddance! and y̶͈̔o̴̘̖͆u̶̻̱͆͒'̸̫̩̌̉r̷̼͝e̴̩̒ ̴͎̻̈́̎ȧ̸̦l̵̗͙͌̐o̸͚͕̚n̷̟̯͠e̵̳̩͠

and is their whole line just cursed? is this their way of punishing her for something? why do they both hurt her so? is it her fault?

telemachus: athena? are… are you okay? (‘-’*) athena, coming off MG flashbacks: well, obviously, boy, why would you even ask that (ಥ﹏ಥ)

Telemachus just hugs her, because she obviously needs it. and she melts into it like never before.

because she wasn't made for empathy or kindness. she's been born to be ruthless and cold. she's not supposed to love and be loved care about anything but winning. it doesn't come natural to Athena, until recently she had truly thought herself unable to, and yet-

yet here, right in front of her, is a boy who loves for the both of them. loves the whole world - sincerely, selflessly. a truly kind and caring soul (the nobles even joke that his true father is Polites).

she can't love.

but maybe… maybe he will teach her.

maybe he already did.

or maybe she always could.

she forgets sometimes, that her fingers know not only the roughness of swords and spears, but also the gentle softness of weaved silk. creation goes hand in hand with destruction, and she can bind countless threads together without breaking them.

and what are humans, if not strings, waiting to be cut by the fates?

also, if Telemachus can teach the goddess of cold cynicism and detached cruelty kindness of all things, then she can teach him swordplay.

yes, it's a threat.

[vickyvicarious]

Somehow Arthur feels very, very close to me. I seem to feel his presence warm about me. I suppose it is that sickness and weakness are selfish things and turn our inner eyes and sympathy on ourselves, whilst health and strength give Love rein, and in thought and feeling he can wander where he wills. I know where my thoughts are. If Arthur only knew!

I know there have been a bajillion thinkpieces written lectured and adapted about how blood giving or taking is sex and sexual appetite etc but man vampire lore is sleeping on blood being a vessel of one's love

So true!

Especially when we consider the difference between the vampires drinking vs. the humans transfusing. Like, I was musing about this exact thing the other day. With each transfusion, Van Helsing (et al) is performing a kind of medical vampirism. But there are a couple key differences between that and actual vampirism. And the love is the biggest one.

We see humans giving blood as an expression of their love. They are willingly sacrificing their own health to heal another. The first transfusion makes this extremely clear, with Arthur speaking of his devotion using the words:

"My life is hers, and I would give the last drop of blood in my body for her."

And that's before he even knows she needs it! Love and devotion and bleeding for another are already linked concepts in his mind, and this line makes the connection clear to readers too. As for the result - in this diary entry you quote, Lucy describes the effect as not only a physical boost, but a kind of spiritual/emotional one too. It's not just that she is physically doing better and feeling happier because of that. She is specifically thinking of Arthur after he has given her blood, and feels her love for him stronger than ever. There's a sense that his blood, full of his love for her, is in her veins now, and her love for him is strengthened by it. After Jack gives her blood, we get one of the best moments in their relationship, with the shared secret/smile at one another about the past failed proposal. I think this is such a wonderful gesture of friendship and platonic love. I wouldn't be surprised if Lucy is feeling closer than ever to him in that and similar moments too... and it doesn't have to be because of his blood in her veins, but couldn't that be a contributing factor? (We can also say maybe empath!Lucy helps her feel the effect of the emotion in the blood even more, but that's slightly beside the point.)

I've even wondered if perhaps in-universe, emotional connection makes a transfusion more likely to be successful. Remember, at the time the book was written, blood types had not yet been figured out, so the success or failure of transfusions was kind of a mystery (though only for another like three years after publishing). We can easily say "oh, Lucy is conveniently a universal recipient" and leave it at that. But thematically, it would be quite fitting if the closeness between two people makes them more likely to have their blood 'accepted'. It would also fit with the comments Van Helsing made that Arthur "can do more than any that live," or is "better than me, better than my friend John" when it's time for him to give Lucy blood. Sure, it makes logical sense for someone who isn't her doctor to do it, and he is young and healthy (and tall! more blood!), but there's also a sense that he has more 'right' to do so than the others, because he is her lover. If we run with that, the love linking them makes his blood more effective, or at least more likely to be accepted.

Now, let's contrast all of this good, love-filled blood-gifting with vampires, shall we? Just as Arthur spoke of his love in terms of giving blood, the vampires speak of taking blood in terms of love:

"He is young and strong; there are kisses for us all."

(Not to mention the whole "you never love"/"oh yes I can" exchange afterwards. That's an even more explicit example in a lot of ways, just a bit longer than this one line.) In a sense, vampires taking blood is an expression of their 'love'. But as I discussed in the post linked above, a vampire's version of love is predatory. It consumes. They don't accept blood that is willingly given. Instead they take blood, and forcibly compel people to 'offer' it to them by suppressing their minds/negative emotions in a hypnotic trance. This is where you could bring back the sex comparison, but only in the sense of an assault. They might make their victims come to them, but they aren't really consenting. There's a reason the word love is in quotation marks for them! And the absence of blood being willingly given means that rather than being a vessel for love like we see amongst the humans, instead any link created between the vampire and their 'donor' is very predatory. There is a connection created there, but it's one that is designed to make it easier to feed more, to corrupt their victim more. Maybe Dracula can feel Lucy in some way, just like she felt Arthur - but maybe it's more in the sense of him being able to know where she is or to influence her more. In fact, there is plenty of suggestion that some kind of psychic link is created between a vampire and their victim, one that can perhaps go both ways at times (such as Jonathan possibly getting a glimpse of Dracula's plans after being drunk from) but typically only serves to weaken and manipulate the victim (Lucy unable to remember or speak about what happens to her, down to the point of even hiding her bitemarks with her choker; if we go back to that Jonathan scene, his brain fever coming on so abruptly could be some sort of psychic attack/backlash).

There are also some interesting implications regarding spoilers, so I'm going to put those under a cut:

Firstly, Mina being forced to drink Dracula's blood clearly establishes a connection between them. It is explicitly a corrupting influence, and is described as being like a "poison" - very much the opposite of the strengthening connection Lucy experiences with willingly given human blood. And some of that is clearly just due to it being a vampire's blood, but maybe the fact that she's forced to ingest it against her will could be a factor too. Like, Lucy is unaware of getting transfusions, but they're all from people she loves and who love her, so her body doesn't reject them. I wonder whether, if someone really wanted to become a vampire and very willingly drank the vampire blood, then the process of turning into one might be easier or faster than the slow, disorienting decline Mina suffers in canon. Obviously how much human blood you have left in you and how close you are to dying makes a difference too, as seen with Lucy. And we don't officially know if Dracula made Lucy drink his blood too and that's always part of the vampire transformation, or if that was an extra magical measure against Mina. So it's getting way into speculation.

But the drinking blood = connection is definitely made clear with Mina. She is able to turn that against Dracula, so it at least can go both ways when the blood-giver is supernatural. I doubt it would go both ways with an ordinary human donor, but it still could support Lucy getting more connected with the people giving her blood. In fact, you could play around with that idea since she's also connected to Dracula as his victim.

.

Anyways, speaking of getting super far into speculation, let's dive a little more into the idea of a willing donor/victim for a vampire. For example, the reason a vampire doesn't get the loved-up connection is not necessarily entirely inherent to their nature, but to the behavior that nature leads to. Maybe it's the way they are preying on people and taking things that twists whatever connection is created into such a bad thing. And if so, what would happen if a human willingly donated their blood to a vampire as an expression of love?

Instead of taking, the vampire would be accepting a gift. Maybe then the love really would flow through. Maybe, even, this would mean that the person giving the blood didn't suffer as many negative effects, and the vampire drinking the blood would receive some of that more healing influence. You all know what I'm getting at. If Jonathan gave his blood to Mina in full knowledge of what was happening, would it connect her to him even more strongly? Would it, rather than hastening her descent into vampirism, conversely help her hold on to her humanity because she feels more connected to his very human love? Maybe he wouldn't suffer the same effects as usual victims - he wouldn't forget and maybe he wouldn't even feel as weakened as blood loss usually should make someone feel. Maybe he'd even get a bit of vampiric influence leaking back, but only the beneficial stuff.

It's not something I've ever considered before, but it could be a really fun idea to play with. You could even make a case for it in canon if you really tried, citing stuff like Jonathan's cold hands and flinging the coffin near the end of the book, and Mina's certainty about his location and safety. She feels the humanizing emotional connection and his presence; he isn't weakened and maybe even gets some vampiric strength/intimidating vampire aura when he needs it. Rather than a predatory connection, it is one which goes both ways and strengthens both, because it combines the supernatural elements of a vampire with the strengthening effects of willingly given love-filled blood.

That might only work in the short term, and the vampiric corruption would overwhelm and ruin things in the long run, of course. And you definitely don't have to go down that road at all in the first place. Or all the way - maybe you only like the idea of his blood helping her feel more connected to him/feel his love for her, rather than going down the whole rabbithole. But however much you use, it's a fun concept to play with, I think!

[spacestation-l7]

More John and Lisa friendship dynamic doodle I did while doing one of my midterms!

Ending where they run away together :)

[castieldelamancha]

Castiel steals another glance from where he is sitting propped against the passenger seat door. Dean doesn't notice, lost as he is in the road stretching for miles and miles ahead of them, lost as he is in the music coming softly from the speakers.

He looks so beautiful like this, glowing in the sunset, as a memory of what Castiel could see when he was able to see his soul. His freckles are way more visible now with the summer sunlight kissing them almost as much as Castiel himself every day, his hair is a spiky mess, just like Cas left it while they shared a breathtaking kiss.

He looks relaxed, his eyes hidden under sunglasses, he bought the same pair for Cas, they are lost somewhere in the backseat he is sure of it.

He lets Dean's rough, deep, voice flood him, anchor him to the moment,

"And it's been the ruin of many a poor boy

And God, I know I'm one,"

He isn't singing too loud, careful not to wake him up.

Castiel closes his eyes again and just listens, for a while. He doesn't dare to open his eyes, as tempted as it is by the sight he knows awaits for him, he doesn't want Dean to stop in embarrassment.

Just a quick look.

Dean is drumming the fingers of his left hand on the wheel, he keeps singing, unaware of his audience or so it seems.

"I know you are awake." Dean doesn't sound too embarrassed, to Castiel's relief he sounds more amused than anything.

Before Castiel can apologize or say anything at all he is raising his arm, beckoning Cas to move closer with a muttered "c'mere, Cas."

He puts his arm around his shoulders once he is close enough, letting Castiel rest his head on his shoulder with a light kiss to the top of his head.

He keeps singing, his voice almost a whisper now, no need for more since they are pressed so close together. Castiel rest his hand on Dean's tight, squeezing lightly, his other hand reaching up to play with the fingers Dean's has splayed on his shoulder.

[somekindafairy]

a guy

[nartml]

Sasuke x reader is probably the most foul thing I've ever come across on the sasuke tag and that's saying something

[mothercetrion]

okay now I'm thinking about Johnny being from the south

I don't believe it for a second BUT can you imagine? he grows up in a small town, nothing to do. he sees movie stars on TV and points and wants to be just like them! he wants to see the city lights and the people. he wants to walk the red carpet. he wants everyone to know his name. his mama is home from a long shift and she just smiles and shakes her head because he's so ambitious for his age

and then he grows up and learns how to mask his southern drawl and he acts in the school play and no one sees the vision that he does because no one has dreams like his, not in his eyes. no one gets it. he needs to get out and see everything! the world! he has to see it all since he's already seen every inch of his hometown

being southern is likely some sort of trivia information that some fans find out and are shocked to discover. he doesn't talk about it that much. when he actually lets his accent show, people are surprised