#its this. but on purpose lmao

[moonsun2010]

one of the coolest parts of Dracula Daily that I've come to appreciate is seeing posts from new readers excited to read Dracula (Daily) for the first time! now that we're coming up on the 3rd (well, 4th technically) year of Dracula Daily, you'd kind of expect readership to just drop off now that people have had their fun (which is perfectly fine btw). and its like, that's definitely happening and no year will compare to DD2022 and DD2023 (which had the advantage of Re: Dracula beginning its 1st year), so its still surprising to see new readers come in. People have already discussed DracDaily as a refreshing counter to the culture of binging-then-forgetting media, but it really does get more apparent with each run. Something about the fact that there are still new people interested in joining it past the initial meme/novelty of it is just, really nice! DracDaily is still kinda in its early stages though, so we'll only know how the fandom survives in like DD2025 probably, when even Re: Dracula will be in its 3rd run.

Welcome!! Enjoy the run, and I hope you'll stay. Its fun :)

[arcanegifs]

Here's more comparisons of Arcane Gifs before and after I color and sharpen em!

[starry-bi-sky]

Blood Blossom Au: Baby's First Commissioner Meeting :)

TL:DR This Post: Danny (orphan) gets poisoned with blood blossom extract by Vlad. He runs away from him and ends up under the care of one Pre-Robin Battinson Batman! Starry is loudly pushing her batdad agenda.

(Also known as "Late At Night, When The Nightingale Sings" on my ao3!)

This was a fun rough idea I've been sitting on for weeks, thinking about how Commissioner Gordon and Nightingale's first meeting might go.

---------------

Commissioner Gordon likes to think that he's adjusting to the new normal of Gotham very well, -- the new normal being grown men running around dressed like bats, in military-grade strength body armor, committing acts of vigilantism, -- and slowly, little by little, he was no longer being surprised when this new normal pops up out of the shadows like the world's most terrifying daisy. His shaving lifespan thanks him for it.

....

The kid is a surprise though.

Granted, he seemed to be a surprise to the Bat too.

There's been a string of murders lately, -- which, in Gotham, is kind of like saying there's been another storm during monsoon season. And there's just been another; in some dilapidated building down in south Gotham, with the broken, boarded-up windows and mildew-crawling walls to match. The victim is a man in his thirties, multiple gunshot wounds to the chest, left in the center of the room for the blood to pool out around him.

The place is already secured when he arrives, the building swarmed with officers and the forensic detectives. The Bat emerges shortly after he does -- or, he might've been here the whole time, hiding someplace dark and shadowy. For his own sanity, Gordon doesn't think about it too hard.

The kid is a surprise, and he appears like a bolt of lightning.

He shows up in the middle of a conversation Gordon is having with the Bat.

A whistle, sharp and loud, slicing through the air, meant for open air rather than a confined space. Gordon's ears pierce and protest the sound, and the solemn, murmured chatter floating through the room abruptly cuts off like the swing of a gavel. As he turns towards the sound -- as they all do -- he swears, up and down, that he sees Batman's shoulders jump, just slightly.

At the source, perched on the window, is a boy. A boy in a gray-blue scarf and an oversized black hoodie, one that hangs off his frame and has ace bandages wrapped around the wrists in some attempt to cinch the sleeves. The hood is up, big like the rest of it, and threatens to swallow the upper half of the boy's face whole in the fabric. What upper half Gordon can see, is smeared with some kind of opaque, black face paint. He's holding onto the side of the frame with one hand, on his hip is a grappling hook. A familiar grappling hook.

Gordon has multiple questions, and his officers tense up.

Martinez puffs up, brows furrowing as his face shapes into a frown. Shoulders rolling back. "You can't be here, kid--"

The reaction is immediate, like a spark to gunpowder, the boy yanks his fingers from his mouth and his mouth twists into a scowl. Head snapping over to Officer Martinez, his hood manages to stay on but Gordon swears that as he bares his teeth, the glint makes them look sharper than they should be. His voice is rasp and quiet and harsh; snappish in its hissing; "Put a fuckin sock in it, Martinez. I'm not stayin."

Martinez reels back, and the boy immediately veers his attention off him. Like a switch, his demeanor drops. Despite half his face being covered, his mouth twists into a cringing, apologetic smile. Slanted and off-beat, embarrassed. It'd be disarming if this wasn't Gotham, and if he didn't just hiss at Martinez like he was about to bite his head off.

"Sorry." He whispers, voice deceptively polite and softer now. Gordon has to strain his ears to hear him. "I was looking for him."

He points his finger towards-- Gordon? No, Gordon follows the direction, and finds himself looking at -- the Bat.

The Bat, who always looks stiff as a pole, now looks even stiffer. Somehow. Well, the explains the grappling hook attached to the boy's waist.

"What are you doing here?" The Bat says, gruff and unable to completely smother the stumble of surprise in his tone.

The boy still holds a sheepish smile, and slips off the window ledge. His feet hit the creaky boards with a near-silent thud, the Batman finds his feet and rapidly begins crossing the room.

Gordon notes the slight tremble in the boy's legs as he straightens. He adjusts his scarf, which droops close to his knees now that he's standing, and slings a backpack -- how long has had that? -- off his shoulders. When the Bat reaches his side, he does as he always does, and looms over the boy like a spectre. A threatening mass of shadows cloaked in all-consuming black. Standing next to him, the boy looks teeny in comparison.

The Bat is a man who terrifies even the most hardened criminals, Gordon has seen grown men shiver in fear at the mention of his name. And yet when the boy looks up at him, he doesn't even flinch.

Instead, his sheepish smile melts away like ice under the sun, holding only traces of his previous embarrassment. It remains as a shadow on his face, a small upturn at the corners of his mouth. The boy pushes his hood back just enough to reveal glinting, ice-flint eyes surrounded in tar-black face paint. He holds the backpack up with one arm. "You forgot this."

[deoidesign]

Doing master studies the only way I know how: Stealing them and making them my guys.

(Barberini Faun)

(The Fallen Angel - Alexandre Cabanel)

(Covent Garden - William Bruce Ellis Rankin)

[yeniihuenii]

3 years later and i still love to make him suffer

[adreamoverlife]

one of the funniest themes supernatural has that it could have never done on purpose is forgetting the third brother, the forgot Adam, they forgot Raphael, and most importantly they forgot Seth, who is Cain and Abels little brother from which most of the world spawned. I'm not joking Cain and Abel litterally have a third brother in the bible and he's themed as being the bringing of the life on earth and he is never mentioned in supernatural

[ceabu]

pap pap

[fruit00]

☀️🫶🏾😁

[astrofiish]

GUNMAN JOE 💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥

[dragonlands]

a short defence of incest shipping:

psychology BA (and future psychologist most likely) here! also an incest shipper! my very valid and scientific theory for why we ship incest is that we desire a love where we could never ever be left by the other because we're connected in more ways than romantic. it's very similar than the soulmate trope but for people who like a bit of spice (i don't mean smut here btw). in the soulmate trope you're thrust together with someone new, the incest trope has more of a friends to lovers vibe. the idea of strangers meetcute falling in love is very Straight and Neurotypical, friends or enemies or siblings first offers a less conventional story structure. the incest trope also deals with shame. a lot of people have shame about love and sex! especially religious people and queer people. incest is a metaphor!!! it's not about wanting to fuck your literal family! it's just about liking a strong bond. what we ship does say something of us but it's not usually the most straightforward explanation. also, this is just my theory, there are probably more reasons for liking incest ships. but i beg, BEG antis to look beneath the surface when screaming about brotherfucking pro shippers.

[ryssbelle]

Introducing to this jumbled up mess of a family: Lief! Hes actually already made his debut in a comic but he was easy to miss

Hes the stand in for Jades kid from @spjs fic Lost Opportunity which is so good ah, Jade is also their oc and I love her which is why shes here. I'm not gonna spoil anything more tho hehe

Well kind of. I have to explain the guy. I'll put it in the tags for those who wanna read the fic and figure out who Lief is standing in for lol.

Lief doesnt do much in the story up until the 3rd movies storyline, hes kind of just a fun silly guy in the background until then.

He's around the same age as Poppy, so they were in school together, he hangs out a lot with JD, but when JD isn't around he'll go bug Floyd or Branch. Floyd doesnt mind entertaining him but Branch has trouble since Lief is a massive klutz, so hes afraid he'll break something or hurt himself.

[miasmaghoul]

Mountain spending a lovely fall afternoon splitting logs in preparation for winter. It's getting chilly at night and the abbey's fireplaces will need wood soon enough, and Mountain enjoys the labor. So he'd grabbed his axe just after sunup, made his way to the pile of felled trees waiting for him by the lake. The trees weren't from his forest of course, no earth ghoul would allow such a thing, but he still laid a reverent hand on the pile and thanked them for their sacrifice. It was the least he could do.

Hours later, the sun high in the sky, he's about halfway done. He'd come down here in a pair of overalls and t-shirt with a flannel overtop, breath still visible in the damp autumn air, but in no time the sweat had started to pour. His flannel lies crumpled some ten feet away, tossed away the moment he'd gotten warm. The overalls have long since been unbuckled, the straps now tied around his waist in a makeshift belt. His previously pale green t-shirt has been stained all over with sweat - around the collar, down his back, at his armpits. Even the front is blotchy with it, darkened every time Mountain wipes his face. He's covered in wood chips and bits of bark, his back and arms have just started too develop a dull burn, and Mountain couldn't be happier.

Soon enought the shirt comes off too, even its thin cotton too warm, and Mountain takes a moment to stretch. Arches his back, chest to the sun and arms over his head. Something in his spine gives a loud pop and Mountain groans, deep and satisfied, when it makes him shiver. He shakes out his arms, twists at the waist a few times, and takes a quick stroll to the lake's edge. Cups chill water in both hands and splashes it into his face, rinsing away dirt and sweat, soaking his already damp hairline and sending little rivulets streaming down his chest. It's beyond refreshing, exhilarating even, and Mountain feels good as new.

He idly scratches his stomach as he heads back to work, chuckling at the softness there. He always develops a little but of pudge this time of year, his body preparing itself for the winter as though he wasn't living in the relative lap of demonic luxury. Mountain prods at the little bit of fat hanging over his overalls with a smile, gives it an appreciative pat, and goes to pick up his next log.

Before he does, though, Mountain pauses. Considers. With a might-as-well sort of shrug, he'd trudged over to the side of the pile, untied his straps and pushed down his overalls just enough to pull out his dick. The water still trailing down his chest and belly catches in his hair, glistens in the sun, and the groan Mountain lets out as he starts to piss is one of nothing but deep relief.

Up on the rooftop, sight unseen, Aeon falls apart with one hand over his mouth and the other shoved into his now-stained sweatpants at the sound of it.

Rain was right, this is a good show.

[theloveinc]

Whenever Mitsuki gets on Bakugo about doing more to discipline his kids, he pulls whichever one of them has been naughty into his parents office or bedroom and slaps his palms to pretend he's spanking them while they root around and mess up their desks

[buwheal]

I'm sorry, Spamton. I know you won't believe me, but I'm sorry we hurt you.

[min-xie]

wet, pathetic, and needy (and a bit manipulative cus why not)

[cantgetworsethanthistbh]

dumping more of my stancest feels here because i cannot NOT think of them. i read journal 3 for the first time this week and its great because Ford acts like stanley's biggest hater which is pretty fking funny (if not absolutely infuriating at times because omfg stfu you smug prick)

but the moments like this get to me

Ford being blinded by his quest of grandeur, accolades and praise for world changing discoveries, so obsessed with greatness, being the first name people remember, and all the other things his npd-isms tells him he wants.

And then there's "reminds me of camping with my brother. i wonder what he's up to..."

i mentioned in my previous post that stan acts quite a lot like the anchor to ford's boat, keeping him grounded and most importantly, safe from both the bitter and the sweet kinds of evils. but he also represents something so much simpler to ford too: the simple desires he represses so much because its not "good enough" for someone special like him.

he resents stan so much because he represents a "block" against that percieved good enough success he wants, the obstacle that made it impossible to get in a fancy college, become the world renowed researcher, the one who wanted to destroy his journal's and lifes work (even though it was the better, safer option if Bill really WAS that dangerous, which he was) that could still make him famous. because if ford's not "praised and weird" then he's just "weird" and being "weird" was nothing but a pain his whole life that kept him rejected and isolated from the masses. and stan prevented him from that.

(btw "maybe he can prove himself to me" is nasty work my god ford is a douche lmao)

a lot of his projections of something greater comes through with how he treated dipper in the show (his whole spiel in damvtf) and fiddleford in journal 3 where he looks down on the happy life that fiddleford had with his wife and child and saying he was "wasting his talents" making computers. and like, we all know by the way he takes them on high stakes adventures they're not as prepared for compared to him (and end up causing more trouble than not by doing so), he's trying to fill a gaping hole left by someone else. we all know this obviously, we all know what we ship here, but what i came to appreciate the most about it is how much that gaping hole exists in the low stakes

everytime ford is thinking during the "down time" moments, his thoughts always drift back to his childhood, and one person who represents it.

childhood memories, making fun of stans favorite snack, scribbling out a design of the stan o war, whenever Ford lets his mind wander it expresses such an intense yearning for the past before he became obsessed with wanting something more. these are his most utmost and most unfiltered thoughts, which is why he scribles them away or and writes in code. and the fact that he directly says they are about NOT getting married, followed with "wondering what he's doing right now", painting the picture of what his most ideal idylic life is. wanting a return of something lost. wanting Stan back more than anything.

he finally accepts that his dream never really changed, just the same as stan's and so they saild off together for the rest of their days, in ford's own words (which ironically sounds like a marriage to me either way so tough shit ford)