#illustrations i made a while back for a contest

[jhuzen]

if ur requests are open…virgin Kazuha with a player m!reader.

Reader made a bet with Beidou about how long it’ll take to get to fuck Kazuha since he’s one of the people on the Crux that the reader hasn’t fucked and Kazuha overhears.

He knows he shouldn’t give in, but he’s wanted the reader for so long so they end up fucking (and confessing feelings because I’m a romantic😭).

tip [m.reader]

actual title: [just the] tip, LMAO. I AM BACK FROM THE DEAD AND I’M BRINGING THREE SMUTS WITH ME. anyway. i think we all know when i say soon, it means 2 weeks later. fuck. i’m so sorry yall i do not know how to squeeze my brain for creativity. so the past two weeks, i’m just working out and gaming and illustrating. also i was halfway through the smut when i got the request for the player reader aND THATS WHEN IMAGINATION STRUCK. so anyway have this adorable samurai, tysm baby for letting me win your 50/50 again ilysm mwah.

𖦹 gentle sex, romantic stuff, they say ily in the end (and i am jealous), it’s been weeks since my last smut so bear with me, an attempt at an oral, fingering, penetration, lots of reassurances, top male reader

It all started with a simple bet between you and Beidou. She was the same captain that challenged you many times in drinking contests, after all (most of which, you’ve lost to her). And while you cannot exactly handle all of your alcohol like she can’t, no one could say the same when it comes to your visceral need to possibly get every living being on the bed with you.

It was a running joke between the entire crew. With your utterly promiscuous nature, you’ve managed to bed every bachelor and bachelorette on the Alcor. It was an amazing feat and an occurrence that happened so much, people would casually compare your performance with each other. Granted, it was embarrassing, but such is the price of being so… whorish.

Not a single soul was saved, even the sweet housekeeper from Mondstadt and his superior that were traveling to the nation of freedom to strike a deal with an elusive winery owner weren’t saved from your promiscuity. Beidou was already hurting from the sides from all the laughing she’s done once she realizes the fleeting glances between the two of them towards you were no mere coincidences.

But maybe not a single soul being saved was… an overstatement.

All of them weren’t safe except for one — the elusive ronin that frequently traveled with Beidou’s crew; Kaedehara Kazuha himself. For some reason, he was the one person that you couldn’t bed, and unfortunately for you, Beidou noticed. She noticed how your flirtatious flair would tone down, turning you into the most unassuming version of yourself that any of the Alcor has ever seen whenever you would entertain Kazuha up in the crow’s nest, a gentle smile on your lips instead of that knowing smirk that could leave anyone writhing.

Beidou already had an idea by then, but she decided to aid you in getting things moving as she made one bet to you.

“If you can get our romantic poet in bed with you, I will retract all drinking contests in the future.”

Your terms were flimsy and shallow. But you figured your liver would greatly appreciate the deal. And if you won, you only said that the captain would have to admit that, although untrue, you have, at some point, beaten her in one contest.

Had you only known what your dear little ronin has in store for you.

Kazuha, admittedly, is an absolute romantic. The verses in his poetry could not make that mere fact any clearer. His mind and heart can coordinate and weave the sweetest words lodged in limited verses that sing the sweetest praises to the unknown.

And often you were the victim of it. Kazuha was well aware of how subdued you seem around him, suddenly discarding the playboy persona that you were known around for, your very reputation that despite the efforts that Kazuha made in order to evade it, it still somehow managed to take the longest detour right to his heart.

You were a magnet that had limitless attraction Kazuha was just a drop in a sea of particles that continued to gravitate to you, despite his constant rumination that you were never going to be a constant in his life. He lives to seek every corner of the world while you discovered the uncharted parts of someone else’s bare skin in your endeavors.

How ironic was it that in his inconsistent lifestyle, he was terrified of having you — someone who is just as much of constant as his stays on places while he wandered through all nations.

But the tiny voice at the back of his head were screaming, pleading for a chance to even experience the atmosphere with you when wrapped in the haze of lust and sex.

It was probably why the moment he overheard your tiny wager with Beidou, the restraints that he kept on his poor longing heart suddenly loosened. And it was probably why the moment you amped up your flirtatious tendencies, Kazuha was suddenly breathless.

To experience of being the end of your smooth words was something Kazuha can only describe as what it feels like to get a taste of his own medicine. Suddenly, you were more forward, you didn’t wait for him to ask you and gaze at the skies with him on the crow’s nest. Everywhere he was, you were suddenly around, like a persistent python that coiled around him until he could no longer breathe — and he loved it.

Maybe it’s why your advances were easily reciprocated by him. Maybe it’s why all of a sudden, he wanted your hand to linger under his chin. Maybe it’s why, out of all his resistance to your charm, it all comes crashing down into a futile effort.

And maybe it’s also exactly why his heart hammered with persistence against his ribcage despite the ache in his knees as he knelt and did his best to suck you off with little to no experience under his belt.

You sat on the edge of the bed, eyes downcast to meet Kazuha’s teary eyes. He was already ruined just from this, mouth barely able to take in more of you. But you were a persistent teacher, and he was an eager student.

A smirked played upon your pretty lips, hand gliding over to Kazuha’s soft cheek before pinching it, stretching his mouth just a little bit more as you slowly pushed your hips, watching your cock make it barely even halfway through Kazuha’s mouth.

You were used to the experienced men that could take you in skillfully even with your size, but the inexperience was somewhat of a breath of fresh air — if not, utterly adorable. The way his tongue refused to stay flat while your cock pushed in, his teeth grazing against your sensitive head ever so slightly, and archons, those lovely tears that glistened through his wet eyelashes as the honorable ronin looked up at you for any form of approval.

“You’ve no idea how incredibly delectable you look right now, love.” Your smooth voice filled his ears and he hummed, pleased from the praise, leaving you hissing as the vibrations from his mouth enveloped your cock.

“Think you can manage a few more inches?” You asked with a curious grin.

Kazuha doesn’t think so, but the innate need to please you and seek your praise was something he quickly found out the moment you stripped him of his robes and adored his body with your sweet words. He nodded, a little unconvincing, a little reluctant, and a little nervous.

You guided his hands that rested on your thighs to grip the base of your length, “For better leverage,” you said, though quite true, it was equally just an excuse to feel his cute little hands around you.

The ronin nodded once more before pushing further, dipping his head until he can take more of you. His cheeks burned and the moment the tip of your head hits the back of his throat, Kazuha immediately pulls back, coughing. You ran your hand through his hair, flashing him a reassuring smile.

“Too much?”

Kazuha’s lips were wet from his own saliva. He opened his eyes to see a tiny sinful string of saliva that connected his lips to your cockhead. He looked up at you with so much determination, almost eager to try again, and while it was immensely adorable, you decided to take pity on Kazuha as you pulled him up to your lap.

“I-I can do more…”

“And we’ll work on that next time,” you said with the same soft reassurance that he has heard from you every time you and Kazuha would engage in a conversation. But it wasn’t what made his heart jump — it was the fact that you opened up the possibility of a next time for him. A possibility that this isn’t a one time thing as he feared.

Before he could even process anything else, his back hits the soft mattress beneath him. It should have been intimidating, but to see tower over him with such a huge figure, Kazuha could only feel the unbridled warmth that radiated from you. He waited with bated breath as you looked down on him, a smile so inviting that it doesn’t even remotely feel like he was participating in a bet, that you were making love to him so tenderly instead.

“Think it’s time for me to finally take care of you, hm?” Your soft croon reached his ears and he could only nod, meek yet still so bloody excited for what happens next.

He could feel his breath get caught in his throat the moment your hands easily opened his legs, and he willfully complied despite how his thighs quivered under your grasp. He watched seat yourself in between his legs, watching you open up that one familiar package of lubricant. You squeezed a generous amount on your fingers before turning to him.

“Try to relax, yeah?”

“M-Mhm…”

Kazuha doesn’t question the way his back immediately arched up as his body responded to your fingers that slowly penetrated him. He could feel the coldness and he shivered, squirming at the tight fit. He could feel it all too much. His hand immediately shot up to latch onto your strong shoulders while he let out a strangled gasp.

Your little samurai was all too enticing, “My~ what a mess I’ve made you, and just from my fingers alone too…” You laughed and Kazuha can only whimper closing his eyes shut to avoid any further embarrassment, though it was clearly futile by then.

Your slowly pumped your fingers, feeling out Kazuha’s gummy walls. He clenched on your fingers with every movement, leaving him writhing against the sheets. It was a sensation that he was all too new in experiencing. His soft gasps and quiet whines echoed through the walls of the remote inn that you graciously paid for under the guise of taking shelter with your travel companion.

Kazuha cried out your name so sweetly, and it was as if the heavens are calling you.

“[Name]… m-more…” he pleaded with a tiny voice, barely managing while your fingers continued to penetrate through his walls that continued to pulsate around your digits. You indulged in every moan that spilled from his lips as you pumped your fingers even more.

You licked your lips, eyeing the samurai in bliss so hungrily. He was ethereal even when he’s a complete mess with sweat cascading through his soft skin and his hair completely tousled as he continued to squirm from your ministrations alone. You drank the very sight of him and you couldn’t wait to take him then and there.

A choked gasp suddenly weaseled out of him as your fingers finally grazed his prostate.

“H-Hah—!” You watched in fascination as your endeared ronin came just from that alone. Cum dripped down from his cock, making a tiny pool on his abdomen. Kazuha was breathless, his body quivering in inconsistent intervals as he reached his high all too early. He looked at you, just as surprised as you are.

“O-Oh… D-Did I—? Already?” Kazuha’s embarrassment was unparalleled, but you were quick to quell that as you leaned in, showering his heaving chest the most chaste kisses, filled with so much care and love that were absent from your times with others. No amount of sweetness could amount to your shallow ones when it wasn’t Kazuha.

“You treat it like it’s a problem,” you chuckled and Kazuha’s face flushed at your playful chastising. Of course it must be a problem. One too many he’s heard about people lasting in bed a better feat when it comes to sex. But you were quick to refute the little beliefs he had. “It only means I’m making you feel good, no?”

Kazuha nodded, speechless for once at such a gentle treatment. He’s heard from the accounts of others just how rough you can be, some men even having to complain about it to you openly, while you only gave a tiny apology before slithering away. But this, even Kazuha wasn’t too certain if this was something new for you or if you thought that he was too fragile to handle you. He griped to himself at the thought and he quickly grabbed onto your wrist.

“I-I’m ready,” he muttered, giving you the full green light.

You have half a mind to question him for a second time, but his look of determination and your own cock that only throbbed painfully against your abdomen was enough to persuade you.

Kazuha could only look on, his eyes widening when his struggles earlier to take you in just with his own mouth came back to bite him in the ass. He looked up, a little frantic as the anxiety only flooded through him — he could barely suck you off without suffocating, how could he take you in so easily.

You only leaned to kiss at the shell of his ear, as gentle as you can, “Don’t worry, we’ll stop if you can’t.”

His arms were quick to hook around your neck, looking down and quivering a little as he felt the way your cockhead brushed against the rim of his entrance, prodding at him with so much temptation. “But… I don’t want it to stop…” he mumbled, only making you laugh at such a sweet sentiment.

“One at a time, mkay? It’s your first time,” You whispered as you slowly lined up, your shaft already prodding at Kazuha’s lubed up hole. “Ready?”

Taking a deep breath, Kazuha only nodded, surrendering control to you to take care of him.

It wasn’t a mistake to be so near him as your ears indulged in Kazuha’s sweetest cries as you slowly eased yourself in. You didn’t bother going all the way as you felt him clench around you even with just a few inches in. It was adorable, remotely endearing as you continued a couple more inches.

“W-Wait,” he was quick to plead, and you stopped, listening intently to his whims.

“Why don’t we practice with just this much, hm?” It wasn’t even a surprise as Kazuha quickly agreed, eager to follow you. He succumbed into the submission of being under your control, to let you do as you please to him and you relished in that very permission to take in every bit of him even the slowest ways.

You drew out some quiet sobs from poor Kazuha as your hips drew back, only to stop just before you could pull out. Your sensitive head alone could even feel the slightest bumps within his walls and it was absolutely divine.

Kazuha hiccuped through his tears despite your shallow, languid thrusts — barely even fully inside and yet he’s already so spent. You could feel every gasp getting pulled out from his system with how his cock seemed to brush against your abdomen with every movement.

“Feels good?” You asked and he only nodded — quite frankly it was a miracle that Kazuha could even still make of what you can say.

“D-Deeper, [Name],” Kazuha begged, coming out in a tiny mewl that you couldn’t seem to refuse.

You followed through his demand, letting in a couple more inches inside and he was squealing so wantonly. The way his walls clenched onto your length, he could feel every sinful throb within his tight warm walls and he couldn’t help but squirm, inching away from your cock when you held him down.

“You can do it, you’re a good boy, yes?” You smiled, your thrusts slowly growing deeper and deeper until it left him writhing underneath you. You could feel the delectable scratch on your broad back as he clutched onto you for dear life.

“M-Mhm… a good boy,” he parroted, his mind numbing with each thrust, his hips slowly meeting your movement as the fervent need to feel you grew inside him.

You were just as easily losing it as your hips moved in a steady pace. Never had you even been this gentle on someone even — but somehow Kazuha brought it out of you. Your soft grunts melded with his delectable moans as you moved your head, lips just a hair distance away from him.

And then it spills from your lips;

“Fuck… I love you so much…”

Kazuha’s eyes snapped open and you immediately stopped your movements, your cock still inches deep inside your little ronin.

A wave of clarity washed over Kazuha as the realization hit you both.

“You mean it?” He asked, love in his eyes with so much anticipation.

You only laughed as you leaned in, “Couldn’t get anymore obvious with that,” you quipped, all too amused as the blush overtook Kazuha’s face down to his neck. A little taken aback, but he only smiled, bringing you in close for a sweet kiss.

“Well, I share the sentiment.” Kazuha mumbled, his breath ghosting over your lips as a lovestruck expression completely took hold of his pretty face.

“Would it kill you to say it back?”

“I love you too.”

You only showed your satisfaction with your lips on his, your fingers digging into the soft flesh of his waist as you lifted him up. A needy whimper was pulled out of Kazuha’s throat as you thrusted one more time, a mischievous and eager smile grazing your face.

You were going to show Kazuha so much more.

And lucky for you, you’ve got the whole night to express that love to each other.

#can you hear me crying because i’ve never felt so single #NEXT ONE #we’re gonna be screwing two dragons in their own separate fics #ofc ofc #genshin impact x male reader #kaedehara kazuha x male reader #kazuha x male reader #kazuha smut #sub genshin impact #jhuzen’s stupid one shots #jhuzen’s shameless filth

[the-merry-otter]

How To Make Medieval Fabric Buttons

You will need:

• fabric (I’m using a medium weight wool)

• a sewing needle

• cotton or silk thread (it MUST be strong)

• a thimble

• dressmakers pins

Using this style of button as a fastening technique was very prevalent in 14th century Europe, on both men’s and women’s clothing. It was used for anything from sleeves and openings on the front of garments, to the iconic liripipe hoods (which is what these are gonna be for!).

They were usually made out of leftover fabric from the same material that was used for the garment they were intended for. As well as using every scrap of material possible, they also save you from having to buy metal buttons, which… aren’t cheap (both now and then).

The trade off is of course having to make them, which can be a painful process (literally - try not to get stabbed by the hedgehog ball at step 4!!). I thoroughly recommend a thimble to push the needle through as you form the ball - this is hard enough without having to pull it through.

Making buttons in my experience is 10% knowledge, 60% spite, and 30% hatred. It is a contest of wills between you (who wants a button) and the fabric (who doesn’t want to be a button). I wish you luck soldier.

To start with, cut a circle out of your fabric. How big will depend on what fabric you use - if it’s linen, you’d cut a larger circle than you would for wool. Mine is about 30mm.

Using a long long thread, bind on and then sew running stitches around the outside, about 5mm from the edge (may vary with fabric).

Pull this thread tight like a pouch, and turn the raw edges inwards in one direction. Try and tuck them inside the “bag” section. It will likely be more of a squashed oval at this point than a sphere.

Now, get your dressmakers pins and go absolutely ham. Continue to squish it “inward” (towards where the opening was) as you pin. The button should now resemble a very unfriendly little creature now (good luck with not getting stabbed, it can be a bit of a prick).

Next, basically use your needle to try and get it to stay in that shape. I usually do a bunch of stitches around the edge of the “back” end, and then spend some time criss-crossing the back. Try and put your needle in close to where it came out, so that you don’t get long pieces of visible thread.

Once you are confident that it will hold A Shape ™ (but also isn’t so stabbed that you can’t refine it further!), remove the pins. Your button will most likely resemble a little tiny messy wool brain at this point, but that’s ok!

The next step is to use your needle and thread to continue tucking the ball inwards to the centre of where the opening was. Above illustrates how I’ll flip the open part of a fold inward, by coming up through the fold and then levering it downwards so it gets tucked away. You can also just use the thread to pull errant folds inwards. Use the hand holding the button to squash it into form, and then sew it into place.

Once the button is actually a ball shape, crisscross the back of it a bit so that everything is firmly held in place. It should now (all things going well!!) actually be a sphere.

Once you’re happy with the shape and firmness, take your thread to stem out of the centre back. Bind off, and then slide the needle off the thread, leaving the long end. This can then be used to sew the button onto the garment.

The back will still be somewhat messy, but the front should be smooth, and the whole shape roughly spherical. When the button is sewn on using the remainder of the thread, you won’t be able to see the back!

I wrap the remainder of the thread around the finished button so it won’t get tangled, and then pop it in a jar with the rest while it waits to be sewn onto the garment.

Good luck with your crafting! Feel free to ask any questions in the notes, or straight into my inbox :)

#sewing #tutorial #medieval #medieval reenactment #medieval clothing #medieval costume #historical fashion #historical costuming #medievalcore #14th century #buttons #crafting #diy #i’ll be on my merry way now #I have…… sO many of these to do #truly pain torture and misery hours over here

[ayamari-no-goshi]

Don’t Forget to Write (6)

.... I apparently forgot to post the last chapter when I released it months ago. Oops.

AO3 -> first, previous

Fandoms: DC (Batman comics)

Summary: From Dick’s POV.  Damian happened to win a contest to illustrate a new book by an up and coming author. Being the good brother he is, Dick decided to check the book.He quickly realized he was reading a  very first hand account of one of Jason’s old cases, and deciding to act like a normal person would, he decided to read some of the author’s other works. What he found shook the very foundation of what he thought  was true?  

Warnings: rated T - mostly for swearing and questionable mental health. Amnesia

Parings: none

Notes: originally uploaded to AO3. Cross-posted to tumblr

“Stop grumbling for a moment. It’s about to start,” Dick teased as Jason continued to pace. After almost two months of preparations and another three weeks to convince Jason, they were finally having the press conference to announce he was alive.

His brother shot him a look as he messed with his tie yet again. While it was clear he was nervous, most of his discomfort came from the prosthetics he had to wear to make it look like nothing suspicious happened, and he was doing his best not to touch them. Over time, they would be changed to make it appear as if he’d healed either on his own or through some treatment. They were currently leaning towards the latter as an explanation, especially with how severe the damage to his hands used to be.

Deciding messing with his clothes wasn’t getting him anywhere, he reached into his suit jacket, pulled out a cigarette, and placed it to his lips. They were working on breaking him of that habit again, but at least he had no desire to light it. With the return of his memories, there was now an understanding why he couldn’t tolerate the smell of the smoke. It subconsciously reminded him too much of what happened.

“I thought Pennyworth searched your person for those.” Damian seemed moderately impressed.

Jason gave a mischievous grin. “He did.”

“You’re going to have to teach me how you did that. Nothing gets passed Alfred,” Tim stated as he double checked the prosthetics on Jason’s hands. Those were the ones most likely to come loose.

“I’ll think about it.”

It warmed Dick’s heart to see how his younger siblings interacted. While they were still getting used to each other, things were going relatively well.

One of the first things Dick did was make sure he gave Jason a summary of the others’ histories. It ended up being the right move as Jason admitted he had very conflicted emotions over the fact there had been other Robins after him. The one thing he couldn’t seem to reconcile with was Bruce allowing any child back in those colors. He didn’t think that kids truly understood the risks of playing hero, and that was something he was still coming to terms with himself. Dick made sure to tell his brother that it was his death that brought that to light for him too.

But as a result of that conversation, Dick noticed Jason’s protective streak towards his younger siblings. At one point, he had a nasty argument with Bruce after Damian came to his apartment to get away from the Manor for a night. Since it was a fight with Bruce that triggered his flight and eventual death, Jason was not going to tolerate Bruce’s inability to articulate his emotions and cause another catastrophe. It was amazing to watch, and in its own way, started changing how they conversed with each other for the better.

It also opened the door for everyone to start randomly crashing at Jason’s apartment. However, his apartment wasn’t really large enough for the constant influx of siblings and pseudo-siblings. So, they were working on getting Jason a much better apartment that was up to Bat standards near Crime Alley. It was supposed to be a surprise. But seeing as he stated that if anyone spent an exorbitant amount of money on him needed to make a donation of an equal amount to the charity organization who helped take care of him while he had no memories, he clearly already knew. In Dick’s opinion, that was a fair request.

For the most part, they were going to leave the decorating up to Jason. But they were all working on finding more bat and bird plushes to match his other ones. Damian had been the one to announce it wasn’t appropriate he only had ones that represented Dick, himself, and Bruce. They were still trying to figure out if Steph’s and Alfred’s should also follow that pattern or be different animals.

They were also working on sprucing up Jason’s old room. While he didn’t want to give up his independence, Jason had begun staying over the Manor some nights. It thrilled Alfred to have him back home, and soon the two started baking together again. And if he wasn’t doing that, Tim, Cass, Steph, or even Damian had begun commandeering him for various activities. Usually it was related to movies, but Dick did once catch Jason assisting Damian with some of his English homework. Even Babs, once she’d gotten the okay to come visit, had started stealing Jason away on some days.

Alfred even reported he found Bruce and Jason playing chess together. Dick could remember his brother venting about how Bruce always beat him at the game when he was still in the Manor. While it didn’t mean that everything was good between them, it showed they were working on it.

In Dick’s case, he decided to wait for Jason to reach out to him regarding bonding activities. Sure, he made suggestions of various activities he’d like to do with him, but they were just that, suggestions. Not only was Jason overwhelmed with everything, but there was also the distance there had been between them before his death. That was something he couldn’t just erase. While Jason hadn’t yet taken him up on any of his offers, he had rather shyly asked if Dick could help him get back in shape. And to him, that was a huge victory.

Even though Mask was finally back in jail, the likelihood he’d be back out on the streets sooner than later was high. So, retraining himself made a lot of sense even if he had a wicked swing with his tire iron.

They still weren’t entirely sure if Jason was going to rejoin the vigilante life. While it had come up in a couple conversations, Jason’s answer was always vague. However, he was willing to start being their ears on the streets. He already had a good rapport with the regulars of Crime Alley so sending them information he happened to learn wasn’t too much extra work. Babs had also started training him on her system, just in case.

The other aspect that was up in the air in Jason’s life was his writing career. His stories were an unconscious attempt to put back together the pieces of his former life, and he’d accidentally given away a lot of hints towards their lives and secrets. With his memories back, it was unlikely he’d be able to write in the exact same way which could raise some alarms. For now, he was reviewing what he had almost finished to see how much he needed to change and whether or not it was salvageable. He also wanted to write some short pieces in different genres to see how they’d be received.

There was also upheaval happening at the publishing company. After it was revealed Amy was Black Mask’s assistant once he was finally caught, the GCPD finally got involved. While most of the recent disappearances of writers were directly related to Mask and his paranoia, there was evidence it had occurred in the past if one of the Families were involved with the company. Trying to save face, the company gutted itself out and was in the process of rehiring, which put most of their projects on hold. At least Jason currently didn’t have to worry about any of his projects getting him into any more trouble for the time being.

The only thing he seemed certain of was that he was going to continue working with the organization that helped him out so much over the years. Now that he would have a proper identity again, he would be able to support them in ways he couldn’t do before. Well, that would be after he dealt with any outstanding bills or taxes he owed over the years. He was also going to go for his GED. Once that was squared away, he was going to consider college since it had been something he always dreamed of, even when he was on the streets trying to care for himself.

“Cass, seriously! Stop stealing them!” Jason snapped. Coming out of his thoughts, Dick watched as their sister gracefully kept just out of reach while laughing. It had become something like a game between them.

“Since we’re getting close to show time,” Dick stated after glancing at the clock. The press conference was to begin in just five minutes, “Let’s go back over the basics.”

“I didn’t start getting my memory back until I met you guys after the interview with Vicki Vale, which is mostly true,” Jason stated, almost bored, as he gave up on getting his cigarette back. They had reviewed this several times by that point. “But it wasn’t until Black Mask got interested in me which got Batman’s attention that revelations were made.”

“If asked, we are to state that Batman recognized him due to previous interactions with us and started the process of verifying his identity,” Damian continued. “We are to let Father answer any questions regarding the non-existent body in his grave.”

“Bruce stated he’s going to phrase it as a misidentification that had only recently come to light,” Tim continued. “He’s going to do what he can to help the GCPD to identify whoever is in that grave. I’m still not entirely sure exactly how he’s planning on that one. I thought he was going to ask J’onn to play the role, but it seems like he has something else in mind. He also has some story regarding how the switch happened and how you returned to Gotham.”

“I thought he was going to play the ‘we have no idea, but we’re going to find out’ card. At least that’s what he told me,” Jason huffed. “Thankfully, I can’t really contradict whatever bullshit he comes up with. The time between coming back and waking up in the hospital is thankfully fuzzy. Are we certain someone got hold of my medical records?”

Dick nodded. “I think Bruce did that on purpose to help prove how bad of a condition you were in. It’ll at least take some of the pressure off of you, but I don’t doubt some idiot is going to try to push some buttons.”

“If they want to go after me, that’s fine. I’m not going to be happy if they decide to take digs at anyone other than me or Bruce.”

“Wouldn’t that be a headline? ‘Lost Wayne son fist fights reporter’,” Tim teased, though there was no doubt in Dick’s mind that it could happen.

“Let’s try not to do that. But I think both Lois and Clark are in the audience. They’ll hopefully be able to keep things under control.”

Outside their family, the first two people Bruce let know that Jason was alive ended up being Clark and Diana. They had asked to see him as soon as he was willing. After that, it was only a matter of time before the rest of the hero community found out. Dick was partially responsible for the leak after he let it slip to Donna, who told Wally, and it just snowballed from there. Soon other heroes were visiting just to see Jason. It had the unintended effect of allowing him to start making friendships he never had a chance to while being Robin. It was easing the loneliness he’d been harboring for years.

Someone knocked on the door of the room they were currently borrowing. “Guess that’s our cue,” Dick stated as he gently pushed Jason towards the door.

…

“Are you sure you’re ready?” Dick questioned as he watched Jason do his double checks on his gear.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” he answered as he pulled up his hood.

It had been almost eight months since he’d recovered his memories, and he was finally going out on the streets under a new persona. While he hadn’t directly agreed to it before the previous months, he had started back into his training with gusto almost immediately after he got the okay. Unlike the rest of them, he was going to predominately stick to one area as he eased back into it.

He hadn’t picked out a name just yet, but that was fine. He was half willing to let the people of Crime Alley come up with a name for him, but for now, he was going to act as more of a shadow than a directly seen force. To start, he was going to target the pimps and the drug dealers in the area. Once that was better under control, he would branch out to targeting the gangs. They were hoping he’d be able to keep out of the sight of the major rogues until he was in a situation where he was better established.

While he didn’t want to say it, Bruce was uneasy about letting Jason back in the field. His protectiveness had come out in full force as he helped Jason construct his outfit. And interestingly, unlike the rest of them, Jason wanted to make his outfit look less traditional hero and more akin to a civilian. Dick once asked if he wanted to appear as something like a ghost, especially with how Jason wasn’t going to show most of his face. While Jason didn’t directly answer, he just smiled.

In a morbid sort of way, it made sense for him. He’d already died and crawled his way back from the dead. If anyone had the right to act like a ghost, it was Jason. And knowing his brother, he was going to milk it for all it was worth on the streets. Jay always did have a flair for the dramatic after all.

“You better come home in one piece,” Dick warned him. “Seriously, don’t be afraid to call for help.”

Jason stared at him for a moment. While Dick couldn’t see his face well, with the hood up all he could see in the shadows were the red tints from his domino mask, he could tell his brother was smiling. “I lost everything once because I thought I wasn’t wanted. You proved me wrong and helped me find a different ending. I’m not going to risk giving that up again.” He patted his shoulder. “Besides, I still have to get you back for that prank you pulled last week. Can’t do that if I’m dead.”

Dick couldn’t help how he momentarily froze. Jason had begun making jokes about his death. They seemed to be a coping mechanism for him which meant the rest of them had to get used to it. As distressing as addressing it could be, it was something that happened, and they couldn’t get around it. Some days, he wondered if that was why he made those jokes.

“That’s true, but you still need to be in one piece to enact your revenge.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I bet I could get Tim to help me.”

“Pranks can wait until after Patrol.” Bruce gently touched Jason’s shoulder. Concern was barely visible on his face. “It’s time.”

As they took to their respective vehicles, Dick couldn’t help the excitement that raced through him. His brother, the first one he taught how to properly be Robin, was finally going to fly with him again. It had been a long time coming, but they were finally all together again.

Who knew that a simple book, written by a young man without a memory, would have been the key to it?

#don't forget to write #writer AU #dc comics #fanfiction #fanfic #Jason Todd #Red Hood #Batman #Bruce Wayne #Dick Grayson #Nightwing

[mundane127]

i just wanna watch tv / m.taeil

inspired by this really cute illustration by Paige Tompkins on instagram (@paige_on_a_page)💕

here's some domestic! lazy day! taeil because i am missing taeil a lot!

it was a constant battle, a challenge between the fastest of hands and the earliest bird. it would determine whether you would be bored to no end or deeply enthralled, while of course, everyone's choice is subjective. there is no doubt about how much you and taeil love your flat-screen television. man's best creation that allowed the world you've never had the chance to explore to magically appear on that slim layer of perfectly engineered bulbs, wafers, and circuits. did you mention that this is no ordinary flat screen? it's the newest flat-screen with enhanced color and had the highest definition of all television sets in the market. taeil's friends flock to the living room whenever they come over to play video games, instantly after dropping their gifts on the kitchen counter and screaming a quick hello to you.

today, unfortunately, you emerged second place and taeil was the king of the television. he must have secretly set an alarm and prepared his cereal choice the night before because lo and behold, you were awoken by conversations from what seemed like a documentary. pushing your comforter away, you put on your plush slippers and walked towards the living room. the glow of the TV blinded your eyes a little as you squint at the title.

"love transit 2"

ah, taeil's favorite programme. how could you have forgotten that today was the broadcast of the latest season and of course, taeil has to be up first to binge it. you panned your vision to see the love of your life, cross-legged and leaning into the crevice of the sofa, savouring a bowl of now soggy cereal between his palms, while still in his loved muji striped pajamas, clearly extremely absorbed to realize your presence.

you sauntered towards the empty spot beside him, shoulders sagged in defeat. leaning your legs against the wall as you lay upside down, watching the contestants and panelists dissect every micro-detail with every tiny action made. you weren't exactly the biggest fan of reality series because they lingered in the grey area of a drama and a documentary which kept you guessing if they were truthful and natural.

like a well-conditioned cat butler, taeil places his cold palms on your exposed belly, giving it small scratches and rubs, but his eyes never once left the screen.

"blood is going to rush to your head like that, sit right." even when he was engrossed, he was still so wary of your well-being.

the position of the remote control caught your attention. right in the middle between you and him - almost less than an arm distance away. peeking up to see taeil lifting his bowl to his lips to sip on the milk, you exploited that momentary vulnerability. reaching your hands out, your fingers deftly gets hold of the top of the remote control. so close to victory, only for five tiny feet fingers (aka toes) to anchor them back down.

turning to taeil, you see his eyes now fixated on you and an evil grin etched on his lips. he slowly sets the empty bowl on the coffee table, his toes simultaneously dragging your precious remote control towards his side,

"nuh uh baby, you know the rules. remember when you made me binge watch the shrek franchise with you? and now you shall feel my wrath." taeil scoffs before letting out a despicable laugh.

#nct scenarios #nct scenario #nct imagines #nct imagine #taeil fluff #taeil imagine #taeil drabble #taeil scenario #taeil scenarios #taeil imagines #moon taeil

[daily-kohane-azusawa]

Day 358! Had another vbs dream so story time!

TLDR: I unintentionally became VBS’s assistant during their stay in the US, and promised to help them win a competition that would help them afford the flight back home. (This one is looooong, buckle in)

The setting was this fine arts based summer school.

I started the day by oversleeping through my first classes, losing one of my sketch books on campus, and falling asleep in the class I did make it to (Ribbon-typical narcolepsy L).

While I was asleep in class they were going over this bracket style music competition and assigning students to interview each of the contestants.

I up being assigned to help VBS since no body else wanted to on the fact that the group didn’t speak much English and I couldn’t speak a lick of Japanese so…

Luka to the rescue!! Street Sekai Luka basically acted as my translator so we could get the interview done, but I wasn’t satisfied…

The group really seemed to be at a disadvantage with the language barrier so I did a little something extra and made custom background MV’s for their performances that had the English lyrics to their songs

This made their first battle a clean sweep as people as both their performance and the MV blew the competition out of the water (they sang Devil’s Manor).

I learned after that that they were kinda stuck in the US because they didn’t have enough money to afford a return ticket and the prize money would enough for them to buy a flight home.

Of course I agreed and basically became their assistant and translator (with the help of Luka) for their stay.

While waiting for my brother to pick me up a few things happened; some guy tried to flirt with An and when Kohane clinged to her saying that she was hers, it was like the guy just found out lesbians existed.

And I met up with a group for friends from an art class and lo and behold a certain brunette illustrator was using my lost sketchbook as inspiration for some of her own sketches.

Ena and I got to talking and that’s how I found out Akito was also a younger sibling. I promptly started bolting towards ginger around because my irl friendship language is being annoying and I wanted the deets on their relationship from his perspective.

While running I yelled something like “my brother is also a soccer player! You don’t think I know how to out endure you!” And I chased him around til he gave up and let me pester him lol.

We basically talked about being younger siblings and I even told him that while i think my brother’s cool that doesn’t stop me from hitting him with a plastic spoon for fun (real btw I did do that)

So yeah that was basically the dream, minimal Kohane moments but she was there.

#project sekai #proseka #vbs kohane #kohane azusawa #vivid bad dreams 🌈

[curious-sootball]

Rewatching the beginning of a campaign with the Deadlands lore and Q&A in mind is An Experience™️

First, Johnny's hints become increasingly hilarious; they're trying so hard to give the rest of the party hints on what's going on while maintaining the bumbling old man persona its a show in itself (also, is it just me or is Jane hell-bent on not metagaming things? She played Deadlands before, she's clearly aware of the meta, and I had no idea until watching the Q&A)

One big, nay, giant "what if" idea that keeps nagging on my brain is Garnet, Nate and Delacy being more social in Dead Man's Worth(ep. 2 and 3) - what if they talked to the other contestants(more than just Slim Hawkins) and tried to tilt the odds in their favour? Like, Andy straight-up said he had written the backstories for all the contestants, and since I watched a good chunk of "The quick and the dead" thanks to this campaign, I have a big thick suspicion about some of them(especially those of Hattie McGuill, Rosa Conamerania and Big Bill). Imagine if all of them decided to talk and agreed on making Ben Bellows's day an absolute nightmare - how much faster and funnier the contest would've been? Andy could even keep the tone whiplash from planning to troll and trolling Bellows to him still straight up slaughtering his opponents anyway(e.g. Delacy shooting the gun out of Rex Randall's hand to rightfully eliminate him from the contest, and Bellows shooting Rex through the throat in an all-out gunfight later anyway. Bonus points if he would've came back as a Harrowed and complained about the bullet wound fucking up his vocal chords).

Also, other contestants could've had clues that Bellows isn't as human as he'd like to appear to tip the players off about what was really going on, and I'm kinda surprised they hadn't tried that line of investigation. (Also#2 - was the bartender supposed to be suspicious??? Because "The quick and the dead" has both a cowed saloon owner and a guy shot in both hands the exact same way The Jewel's bartender is - except the second guy was a cocky trick shooter who falsely claimed credit to one of the villain's kills while being in said villain's hearing range. That guy fucked around and found out; and while I'm reasonably sure it wasn't the case for The Jewel's bartender, was this detail supposed to be a clue that cast decided to ignore???).

Third thing about Dead Man's Worth - I love how Andy tweaked the contest rules from "The quick and the dead" - Bellows gives contestants a clear reason to fight each other over teaming up and fighting him directly(a pre-drawn elimination brackets instead of anyone challenging anyone else and killing being optional and becoming mandatory halfway through the contest). Combine this with the prize and the only way to sow more discord among the contestants would've been to yeet a gilded apple with "for the sharpest aim" written on its side into the crowd on day 1 of the contest. This absolute motherfucker of a character(also, I strongly suspect that his bodyguards/gunmen are people from his cavalry unit and most of the other population of the town is their families). I can see why Andy brought him back in the finale.

One more thing: after I looked up the lore, Johnny's reaction to the Dishonourable judge M.T. Boudreau became comedy gold(judge himself also became funnier, but he's not in the spotlight now). Like, they played Nate so fucking smart in that arc, I love it. (Also - imagine if judge could actually kinda see demons attached to the characters and tried threatening Garnet's demon with arresting them for swearing/murdering their huckster after the trial?). Also - am I the only one that looked up the official illustrations of Hangin' Judges and found it kinda underwhelming? Those tiny blades really don't fit the "sword-gun things that he's trying to shoot you to death with" description; Andy made them sound so goddamn cool and the official illustration didn't live up to hype (to me).

#oxventure #oxventure deadlands #oxventure deadlands headcanons

[grassius-a]

The microphone stands alone upon an empty stage. Tons of Artazon folk gather around in front of the thrice-stair steps leading into the town’s central plaza. Watching—waiting for someone.

A few moments pass, and a figure gradually emerges from backstage. Adorning green, spiky hairs; unkempt fringes covering the bridge of his nose. Gaunt cheeks highlighted by sun-lit evening. Ensemble of burgundy and black clothes his person. Equipped with a rolled up thorn whip bound to his left side.

Arms flourish outward like a bird stretching his wingspan.

“ People of Artazon! Welcome, to yet another convergence of Mother Earth’s children helping her rebuild her stony bones; mend her broken branches. Purify her rivers of blood. Protect her from the ones who would do harm to their own planet—their own home!

Environmentalists have made such great strides from where they’ve started before our aid!

While they now are able to change our metal wastes to hydrogen molecules, there is still the epidemic that is the loss of our corral reefs!

We must aid our fellow sea creatures; we will do whatever is necessary to preserve their habitat, and the life that which caters to them!

Spread the word; contribute to the water pokemon! Protect more Corsela from human interference! Let Mother Xerneas, the Lifebringer, know that we are her backbone that re-affirms structural integrity in our local ecosystem!

“ Join us now until the twenty-second, the revelry in which we celebrate Earth Day. Celebrating the great strides our environmentalists have accomplished. Take part in our annual collaboration between fierce trainers, overseen by our iconic windmill! “

hands lower back to his sides; one rests on the spine of his sheathed thorn whip.

“ Our battle court is now accepting interested trainers to partake in fruitful competition for the grand prize: ten-thousand pokedollars ! Second place winners shall receive half of the grand prize; and third shall receive one-thousand. “

“ Furthermore, our art contest, hosted by yours truly, is also accepting applications at this time! The required paintings to be re-illustrated have been propped up for all to see in the town’s bulletin board! “

“ Finally, we’ve still enough room for all traveling traders and artisans to set up shop. Simply visit myself, or Mayor Greensbury to request a small square plot reserved for your booth! “

“ Before I step off stage, I must request those who have earth-destroying Pokémon to please keep them on a leash, if possible. “

“ And from myself and the Mayor, thank you for your patronage and your support! “

With that conclusion, the Verdant Virtuoso turns on a heel, and disembarks backstage

#[ 🌿 ] — — ic. #[ 🌿 ] — — main. #artazonearthday2024

[blowflyfag]

Pro Wrestling Illustrated: 1995 THE YEAR IN WRESTLING. March 1996

MATCH OF THE YEAR: DIESEL VS. SHAWN MICHAELS 16,710 votes

For four months, fans waited for this one–and a worthwhile wait it was.

Until Survivor Series 1994, Diesel and Shawn Michaels were he best of friends. Going into that pay-per-view, they  were also the WWF World tag team champions. But a disagreement in an eight-man tag team match made them the bitterest of enemies. Shawn remained a rulebreaker, while Diesel went the fan favorite route. And three days later, “Big Daddy Cool” became the WWF World champion.

Everyone wondered when these two former friends would finally meet, one-on-one, with the World title at stake.

Everyone found out when it would be on January 22, when Michaels won the Royal Rumble and earned a World title shot against Diesel at WrestleMania XI.

Bam Bam Bigelow vs. Lawrence Taylor at WrestleMania was good, but Shawn vs. Diesel was better. It lived up to all the prematch hype, and for the third consecutive year, Michaels was involved in our Match of the Year. 

Diesel pounded his old buddy early on in the bout. “The Heartbreak Kid,” as everyone expected, showed tremendous resiliency. He clotheslined the World champion over the top rope, executed an over-the-top-rope flying bodypress, then spent a few minutes trying to wear Diesel down. He used a flying elbowsmash from the top rope and a sleeperhold. 

Then came the turning point. While Michaels and Diesel were brawling outside the ring, referee Earl Hebner, in an attempt to keep Sid Vicious, Michael’ Bodyguard, from getting involved, twisted an ankle. That prevented him from getting back into the ring quickly. It may have also prevented Michaels from becoming the World champ, because Shawn superkicked Diesel and had him pinned for at least 10 seconds before Hebner crawled back to make a count.

Diesel recovered, caught Michaels with two boots to the face, and “jackknifed” him for the win at 20:40.

“Incredible!” wrote Ken Wallace of Topeka, Kansas. “I didn't think Diesel could stay with Shawn for a match that lasted 15 minutes or more. And even in defeat, Michaels was terrific.” Everyone knows what happened the next night. These two rivals became friends again. We may never see a Shawn-Diesel rematch, but even if we don’t we’ll always have memories of this thrilling bout. 

RUNNERS-UP

JEFF JARRETT vs. SHAWN MICAHELS: 15,831 votes

First runner-up:  “The Heartbreak Kid” strikes again! A 20-minute thriller between two terrific athletes is the simplest way to describe the July 23 In Your House II match in which Michaels won his third Intercontinental title. A powerful superkick to the jaw was all it took for Michaels to finish off “Double-J” after The Roadie accidentally tripped his employer.

HARLEM HEAT vs. THE NASTY BOYS: 13,798 votes

Second runner-up: The Nastys won the WCW World tag belts from Booker T and Stevie Ray in this Slamboree slugfest. The result was noteworthy because Jerry Sags fought half the match on his own after Brian Knobs was injured before the bout. It was the Heat’s legdrops vs. the Nastys’ piledrivers, and it ended when Sags pinned Booker after a top-rope elbowsmash.

PSICOSIS vs. REY MISTERIO JR.: 6,620 votes

Third runner-up: These two masked superstars, rivals in Mexico's AAA, brought their feud to ECW on September 16 and contested a bout that featured stunning aerial moves. Misterio at 5’3” and 140 pounds, beat his 5’10”, 200-pound rival in a match that was highlighted by Misterio diving from the ring apron onto Psicosis , who was lying in the third row of the audience!

VOTES FOR OTHERS (15,187)

Some of the top vote-getters who did not capture a runner-up spot include: January 22: Diesel vs. Bret Hart; April 2: Bam Bam Bigelow vs. Lawrence Taylor; June 18: Brian Pillman vs. Alex Wright; August 4: Tony Anthony & Tracey Smothers vs. The Heavenly Bodies; August 26: Eddy Gurrero vs. Dean Malenko; August 27: Shawn Micahels vs Razor Ramon.

#diesel #big daddy cool diesel #shawn micahels #hbk #heartbreak kid #wwf #world wrestling federation #pwi #pro wrestling illustrated #magazine scan #magazine transcript

[adrena-dine]

British GP 2022: a summary

Pierre and Yuki went shooting ? Helmut be scared bestie they’re coming for you 😈

Guanyu showed once again he’s a fashion icon

pierre and Charles went together because BESTIES !!!!! 🥰🥰🥰🥰

Lance stroll showing up in an helicopter, what a material guuuuurl 💅🏼

Lewis spoke FACTS during press conference and I love him for that

Alex won the cutest helmet contest and Lewis the most meaningful one 🥰 Lando’s was amazing too (McLaren can find him so easily with this NEON colour)

PEDAL CAM IS BACK AFTER 20 YEARS (the angle is rubbish but I’ll take whatever I’m offered)

Daniel tried to kill Lando by throwing him a jumping ball (do whatever you need to be number 1). can we say it was his bday present ?

His cake was amazing too

The crowd going dead silent when Nathalie Pinkham asked if mclaren was to score a podium this weekend 💀💀

Lance said HELLO MATE to the gravels

To the person who told him that he couldn’t park there : you were the man.

Yukiere doing gay things. Again.

Daniel’s speech for his bday being « thank you 🤠 ». Relatable.

Rain being in a silly goofy mood and just keeping on coming and stopping

NICHOLAS IN Q3 ?! GUANYU IN P9 ?! WHAT IS GOING ON ?!!! So proud of them 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹

Cars went ⬆️🔃⬆️ (I’m talking about you Max and Charles 😒)

CARLOS FIRST POLE DNLEKZKZKDKDKKE VAMOOOOOOOS

it’s his cousin screaming in Ferrari garage for me ✋🏼

TV direction was awful tho

An illustration of Aston Martin’s mess: Keanu Reaves started to watch quali in AM and finished in Ferrari 🫤

Sebastian in Mansell’s car, sustainably fuelled 😍🌿 we stan an environmental aware king (who celebrated his 35th bday)

Huge incident at the start, I am glad everyone is fine ❤️ we can thank the halo once again

Basically Pierre was sandwiched between George and Guanyu, who end up in the gravels, alex spun while avoiding the accident causing damage to Esteban and Yuki

Protestors entering the track during safety car 😒

Yuki still driving without a wheel, nothing stops this man

George stopping his car and running to help guanyu, costing him his race 🥹 what a man

Then he almost got into a fight with the FIA for starting the race again

Red flag shenanigans : Lewis and Yuki hanging out with their mechanics, Esteban having a snack time and trying to share it with his team, Lewis on his scooter, George arguing with FIA and Sebastian trying to get into Ferrari to escape Aston Martin mess

Alpine’s mechanics fixed estie bestie car in such a little time 😳

Carlos fighting for his dear life against max, missing his corner, and then got his place again bc Max’s tyre said « bitch im out »

Yukierre facing relationship difficulties. This hurts. But the spins were pretty 🩰🩰🩰

Sebastian overtaking Max, who would have thought ? Not me 😳

Bottas and Pierre’s DNF 😢

Ferrari messing up strategies again, costing Carlos and Charles’ race 🙄 grande strategia

Esteban was recovering well but then his car said no and stopped. In the middle of the track.

🚨SAFETY CARS 🚨

charles doing a hell of a race with used tyres and a broken front wing. F1 golden boy behaviour✨

The last laps almost caused me an heart attack

The battles were so amazing, I think they made me fall in love with f1 once again. Boys were doing the race of their lives

MICK’S FIRST POINTS 🙌🏼🙌🏼🙌🏼🙌🏼🙌🏼

CARLOS FIRST F1 VICTORY FINALLY GRANDE CARLOS GRANDE VICTORIA ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

but not grande strategia 🥴

charles didn’t give him a single gesture after the race 😪

We had an amazing race but at what cost ? F1 new ships.

Mattia scolding Charles right after the race. Post race meeting is going to be fun isn’t it 🤪

Checo and Lewis’ dads hugging during podium :) cute.

Carlos’ smile on podium was everything 🥰✨

Guanyu walking in the paddock after the race is was comforting

His car is completely destroyed tho

Wishing all the best to Alex ❤️

Anyway see y’all next race

#f1 #lando norris #charles leclerc #daniel ricciardo #sebastian vettel #lewis hamilton #george russell #Esteban ocon #max verstappen #valterri bottas #Carlos sainz jr #Sergio Perez #Lance stroll #nicholas latifi #Lando norris #fernando alonso #zhou guanyu #alex albon #Yuki tsunoda #pierre gasly #my summary

[statecryptids]

Another book review! I was hoping to post this back in October for spooky season, but work and class got in the way. So I'm posting it now to start off the new year.

MARY'S MONSTER

written and illustrated by Lita Judge

The common story of how Mary Shelley came to write Frankenstein is that she conceived the plot during a ghost-writing contest while she, her lover Percy Bysshe Shelley, and her sister Claire were staying at the manor house of Lord Byron and his personal physician, John Polidori. Some might add that she took inspiration from an experiment in galvanism she had witnessed a few weeks earlier.  But Lita Judge’s evocative book, told through prose poetry, posits that the novel grew for many years within Mary’s mind, sewn together from the tragedies and drama of her life. It grew from the deaths that surrounded her: her children; her neglected sister; Percy Shelley’s abandoned first wife; and Mary’s own mother who died giving birth to her. It grew from her feelings of estrangement towards her once-beloved father who did not approve of her romance with the young poet.  It grew from the anger of her sister Fanny “shackled by illegitimacy and despair”. And it grew from Percy Shelley’s own growing madness “because society loathes him for his beliefs”. Out of these parts Mary made her creation, so Judge writes, stitching them into a greater whole just as Victor Frankenstein assembled his creature from corpses.

The book is told in first person from Mary’s perspective, giving the reader a personal connection with her pain and her joy. At critical moments the voice of her creature also emerges as an extension of her. A literary child just as precious to her as the biological children she lost.

Central to Mary’s story is her turbulent relationship with Percy Bysshe Shelley. How they came to love each other and fled to Europe to try to build a life through loss, ostracization, and Shelley’s growing mania. Equally important to the narrative is Mary’s relationship with her sister Claire, who travels with the couple and shares in Mary’s pain and joy. And, then, of course the book depicts the fateful ghost-writing contest at Byron’s chateau, when Mary’s creature finally comes to life and speaks with his own voice.

The book gives context to some of the more macabre events in Mary’s life, such as when she first makes love to Shelley on her mother’s grave, or how she rescues his physical heart after he is cremated and keeps it in her writing desk for the rest of her life. Both acts keep her deceased loved ones close to her.

Judge’s evocative black-and-white illustrations accompany and enhance each poem, steeping the book in a gothic aesthetic. This is a passion project for the author, undertaken- as she explains in the afterward- while she struggled with pain, fatigue, and isolation during a long illness. “I have represented the details of Mary’s life,” she writes, “by weaving the actual events (as documented in her journals, copious letters, and later biographies) with the themes she and Shelley wrote about in their creative work.” The author does acknowledge that, although this book draws from facts, it is a dramatization of Mary’s experiences.  Judge provides an extensive bibliography for further reading, along with a list of what the characters themselves read, to provide some context for their lives. She also includes short biographical notes of what happened to everyone later in life.

You can get a copy of Mary's Monster at Bookshop.org. Or, like, Amazon if you want.

#book review #frankenstein #mary shelley

[queenlucythevaliant]

An Autobiography in Books

We made a list, my mom and I, of all the picture books we loved best

All the Places to Love, which made my mom and my aunt cry together on a summer day once and I didn't understand why

Miss Rumphius

Miss Fanny's Hats

Doctor Suess's books - all of them. We used to have Suess-a-thons on snow days, all curled up together under covers in my parent's bed.

The Best Place, which was probably our favorite

(I would still like to have a screen porch someday, like the Old Wolf)

We had only just moved when we listened to Mr. Revere and I in the car on cassette tape. My parents had to pause it every few chapters to answer our questions, but after we finished with it I played Sons of Liberty with my dolls for years.

And over the years, my parents must have read the Laura and Mary books (so I called them) aloud to me twenty or thirty times. Silver Lake was my favorite. I didn't much mind which parent read them to me, except for Farmer Boy. That book belonged exclusively to my dad.

Pages and pages. I'm in my pajamas with a glass of chocolate milk. My mom or my dad sits on the edge of my bed. Ramona and Avonlea and Where the Red Fern Grows.

My first grade teacher read us a picture book that had a witch in it. I told my mom when I got home. "Can you write me a note to sit out?" I asked, thinking of the previous year's Halloween party.

"What was the book called?" my mom asked me.

"The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe."

My mom laughed. "That's a Christian book," she said. "There's a longer version. We can read it together."

My mom's copy of Little Women had gilt pages and the most beautiful painted illustrations. Sometimes, I would open the book up and flip through it, just to look at the pictures and feel the paper on my hands.

I still dream about running away to live in the Metropolitan Museum of Art, like Claudia in From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler.

There was a book called For Freedom, which almost no one else seems to have heard of.

It was about a teenage girl training to be an opera singer in occupied France.

She was a spy who carried coded messages in the hollowed out heel of her shoe.

In the end, her voice gave out while singing Carmen, which to me seemed a fate worse than death.

She- the girl in the book- would pray: "God, make me brave. Make me brave and make me sing. Protect my family. Make me brave."

I won a Hunger Games trivia contest at my library before Mockingjay was released.

In sixth grade, my friends and I all read Shannon Hale's The Books of Bayern together. There were four of us and four female heroines. We each chose one and we played pretend: Elizabeth was Isi, Lauren was Dasha, Morgan was Rin, and I was Enna

(And then!)

My whole world blossomed into color when I read Gone with the Wind. I had never known such books existed! I remember a kind of frenetic eagerness. A thousand pages in less than a week, and I came away with a fierce, joyful love for messy antiheroines, sprawling epics, and bittersweet endings.

"Recommend me some more of your favorites!" I begged my mother. She handed me Jane Austen, Edith Wharton, the Brontes.

Jane Eyre was a challenge. I was forever flipping to the footnotes in the back of the book, translating the French dialogue and making note of all the words I didn't know. My reading pace was like frozen molasses and I remember several times thinking "Why is this so much harder than Gone with the Wind?"

But by the end, I saw myself in Jane. I was quiet, like her, and I hoped I could capture some of her integrity.

I read Kristin Cashore's Fire right in the middle of my forray into Jane Austen: Pride and Prejudice and Sense and Sensibility before, Emma and Persuasion after. For that reason, my mind insists on erroneously filing Fire with Austen's work, a sort of forbidden sixth novel. It does feature

a beautiful, clever heroine who plays an instrument and wanders through the forest,

a romance with a stern but kind young military man,

and issues of class, wealth, and family,

so maybe it's an okay thing if it stays.

Anna Karenina was magic, pure and simple. I couldn't shut up about it. Eventually, my friends begged me to stop quoting. "I think you're even more into Anna Karenina than Narnia nowadays!" This assertion offended me; Narnia will always be my favorite.

(Here, I started high school.)

How to describe the first experience I had with The Age of Innocence?

I read it sitting in a sunbeam over several summer afternoons.

When I was finished, I flipped it back over and read it again.

I think I mostly wanted to embrace Ellen and tell her she was very brave.

I wanted to tell Archer that he wasn't, but that he should be.

My dad gave me a copy of The Story of Earth by Robert Hazen. It was a secular history of Earth's geology and biology, but it had just the slimmest glimmer of theism around the edges. I think this book has set the course of my life more directly than any other.

I read War and Peace and Atlas Shrugged back to back the same summer I read The Story of Earth. What a summer of ideas that was.

More needs be said about War and Peace: I set out to read it because I wanted to conquer it, but then I read Natasha and Sonya gazing at the lovely moon with Andrei below. I was still in my sundress and gold eyeliner from church, and reading Natasha's "Oh, how lovely," I felt positively celestial.

So it was that conquest became a love affair.

The Killer Angels came in the first full year of my battle with chronic illness. It was hopeful, brave and sad; it made me proud to be an American and equally proud to be fighting my own small battle. I wondered if I had any hope of winning.

On the mornings when I didn't have migraines, I sat on a certain bench outside the gym complex with a book until 7:59. I ignored everyone who spoke to me.

I didn't like The Lord of the Rings the first time I read it. I was dreadfully disappointed because I expected to find Narnia. Yet in the pages of The Return of the King, I found no Aslan, only Aragorn.

(Here, I began college.)

The Far Pavilions was just the epic I needed my first year. The migraines were bad; I was alone and in pain and my thoughts were muddled, but whenever Ash thought how unfair his lot was, I felt a little better in mine.

After considerable peer-pressure, I re-read The Lord of the Rings- on it's own terms this time- and at last I loved it.

Then I read The Silmarillion and made all the same mistakes.

It took me four attempts to finally understand the glory of Tolkien's writings.

I read most of The Gulag Archipelago crammed in the back of a van on a road trip to Florida. It was too loud - people talking over one another, radio cranked up high - and I could barely move my legs from where they were pinned to the seat in front of me. My shoulders spasmed and ached. I felt that book in some small yet visceral way. My physical discomfort made the suffering more immediate, which allowed the Solzhenitsyn's knife-words to cut me deeper than they could have otherwise.

Solzhenitsyn got some stuff wrong, my dad says. He just didn't have access to the best information. Try Anne Applebaum, if you really want to know about the gulags. But how can I replicate the experience of reading The Gulag Archipelago in the back of that van?

I was reading Nicolas and Alexandra the next-to last-time I saw my grandfather alive. We sat in the cafeteria in his nursing home and I recounted the most interesting bits for him.

I wasn't finished reading it by the time I left. I'm glad I was reading history that trip; my granddad already knew the ending.

Villette was a book about loneliness and Protestantism. It made me feel less lonely and more Protestant, which is exactly what I look for in a new favorite book.

(Okay fine, I do quite like Wuthering Heights actually, though I wouldn't call it a favorite. Are you happy?)

I picked up The October Horse for quite a shallow reason: because I learned that Julius Caesar was an epileptic, and epilepsy is quite closely related to migraine.

Julius Caesar and Ulysses S. Grant, those were my guys. However, I'd read Grant's memoir all the way back in fifth grade, so Caesar it was.

The rich velvet of Colleen McCullough 's writing came as a delightful surprise, and The Thorn Birds (soon to be another favorite) soon followed.

(It's getting harder to write this now. It's harder to write about more recent history, even indirectly.)

The Master and Margarita was strange and fascinating and I couldn't look away. I have spoken and written hundreds and thousands of words trying to explain it's appeal. I have evangelized on behalf of this book, but ultimately all I can say is: Go read it. Read it right now.

The Sparrow made me weep more times than I would like to admit. Like Emilio Sandoz, in reading it I felt naked before God. How horrible and how lovely a thing it was.

Which of this year's books will I carry with me into the future? This Too Shall Last for practical advice? Dead Souls for justice, Pyrenesi for joy, Deathless for beautiful prose? The Queen of Attolia for friendship, perhaps, or Six of Crows for my sister? Only time will tell which shapes me most.

#this is super self indulgent #but i think anyone who reads it will understand /me/ on a very deep level #if anyone else would be interested in writing a piece similar to this i would be super super interested in reading it! #i think 'here are the books that have mattered to me' is one of the best glimpses of anyone's heart that there is #because (say it with me): #literature makes us more human #that said it ended up way longer than expected (and I still left out a LOT of favorites) so congrats to you if you read it #i did very much have an audience of me when i wrote it #pontifications and creations

[cuckoomagazine]

Interview with artist Caitlin Alejandre

Tell us a little about yourself.

My name is Caitlin Alejandre and I am a Mexican-American artist and illustrator based in the USA. I work in both digital and traditional mediums creating art for character designs, posters, and picture books! I also love experimenting and have done some 2D animation, 3D digital sculpting, and screen printing. When I am not making art, I prefer being outside hiking and critter watching.

When did you start practicing illustration?

While I have created art for as long as I can remember, it wasn’t until 2020 that I started practicing illustration. I took a beginning illustration class at University and I fell in love with the field. I switched my major from a BA in Art to a BFA in Illustration and I am so glad I did! I love how versatile and never ending the opportunities are in illustration.

Describe your style of work in 3 words.

I would say playful, whimsical, and surreal.

"Take a Break". Digital. 2021. 11" x 14". © Caitlin Alejandre

Current favourite artists?

I admire Marija Tiurina, Ampreh, and Nuria Tamarit. Their concepts, techniques, and styles are so well executed. I look up to them and I feel inspired whenever I see their work. They definitely inspire me to push myself as an artist.

What is your favourite piece from your portfolio and why?

Currently, “Food for the Soul”. I think it embodies myself, and my art, as a whole. It is one of my more recent pieces, so it shows a lot of the techniques and stylistic choices I have been practicing and developing. It was also a lot of fun to make and I am thankful others seem to really like it.

"Food for the Soul". Watercolor, Ink. 2023. 8.5"x11". © Caitlin Alejandre

How do you find inspiration for your illustrations?

I often use my own interests and experiences for inspiration. There is so much around me that I enjoy and I want to pay tribute to through my art. I also enjoy incorporating culture into my work- whether it be of my own Mexican culture or other forms such as food and outdoor culture.  

What does success mean to you?

To me, it is the feeling of pride in my work. It is not easy to love everything we create as artists, so when I do make something I am proud of- it is a great feeling. I then can’t wait to share what I made with others.

Proudest moment to date?

I won a design contest hosted by the paint marker brand POSCA. It was such a cool experience. It was shortly after I graduated university and was the confidence builder I needed as I began my journey as a freelance artist. It helped reassure me that others, even professional brands, enjoy my style of art.

What helps you to stay motivated and organised in order to achieve a productive work day?

Remembering to take a break helps a lot. It is so easy to stay seated for hours when working. I like going for a walk to momentarily get away from my work. This allows me to reset and think about the next steps I need to take with a piece. It also motivates me to get back to work afterwards so I can finish it!

What are you working on at the moment?

I have lots of things going on! I am designing merchandise for my online shop as well as the upcoming art festivals and artist alleys that I will be vending. I also have a gallery show coming up with some new pieces I am excited about. Oh, and in between all of that I am illustrating a children’s book! 

______________________

Instagram: @caitalejandre

Website: Artwork - CAIT ALEJANDRE (weebly.com)

#art #artist #illustration

[another-tired-little-demon]

5,8,11,13 for the artist ask thing!! 💕💕

Thanks for asking!

5. Estimate of how much of your art you post online vs. the art you keep for yourself. Considering I’m studying design/illustration, I draw a lot. Most of that art will never be uploaded anywhere. And, of course, I draw in my freetime as well. A lot of those drawings get abandoned halfway through. All of that considered, I think I post about 30% of the things I draw. (Maybe 45% if I count the doodles and sketches I show to you and Xan as posting things online)

8. What’s an old project idea that you’ve lost interest in? If we’re talking very old project ideas, I once drew and illustrated little books based on the Winx Club series. Made it to volume 3 and then stopped. Oh, I also was 11 years old back then. Another project that I really loved but stopped working on (though that was less of a “I’m not longer interested” and more of a “I don’t have time for that at the moment/I’m not ready yet” situation) was a comic project called “Decayed Gates” (formely Broken Gates). I did turn it into a one-shot for the Webtoon CTA contest though. I might return to it one day, I already invested so much time into world-building.

11. Do you listen to anything while drawing? If so, what? I always need background noise, regardless of what I’m doing. Existing in silence? Unthinkable. I usually either listen to things that spotify suggests (like right now), Genshin osts, piano music, opera if I’m feeling dramatic, one specific podcast or a youtube video (content of that varies greatly, I don’t really pay attention to it anyway. I love listening to the videos from Royalty Soaps though, the creator always sounds so happy and excited).

13. A creator who you admire but whose work isn’t your thing. I can’t think of anyone. If I admire a creator, it typically is because I like their work. Though I’m pretty sure I probably came across some NSFW or horror/gore artists who made me think “Pretty art but I’m not a fan of what they draw”. If I don’t like the content of the work/the work itself, I just scroll away.

#8 was mean because i have adhd and abandon projects every second day #i tried keeping my answers short but alas #ask answered #art asks

[ayamari-no-goshi]

Don’t Forget to Write (5)

AO3 -> first, previous, next

Fandoms: DC (Batman comics)

Summary: From Dick’s POV.  Damian happened to win a contest to illustrate a new book by an up and coming author. Being the good brother he is, Dick decided to check the book.He quickly realized he was reading a  very first hand account of one of Jason’s old cases, and deciding to act like a normal person would, he decided to read some of the author’s other works. What he found shook the very foundation of what he thought  was true?  

Warnings: rated T - mostly for swearing and questionable mental health. Amnesia

Parings: none

Notes: originally uploaded to AO3. Cross-posted to tumblr ((I may have forgotten to post the update. Oops))

“What do you mean?” Bruce demanded of his youngest, who couldn’t meet his eyes. “What did you do?”

“Don’t… don’t touch me!” Jason hissed in abject terror, turning everyone’s attention back to him. He was backing away from Cass, who was trying to see if he was okay. His hands were finally moved from his face so smears of blood and bright, almost feverish eyes could finally be seen. Whatever was going on, Dick doubted he was completely aware of his surroundings.

Dick slowly moved forward and held out his hands, palm up, so his brother could see they were empty. “Jay? It’s alright.” Instead of being comforted, his brother tensed. Shit, he was going to bolt, and this wasn’t the place for him to try to run. There were too many dangers in the Cave. Backing off, he hoped it would at least give them time to figure out what was wrong, but it wasn’t enough. Steph shifted slightly from behind him, and it was enough to spook Jason again.

“Damnit, Jay,” he stated under his breath as he and Bruce ran after his brother. As they got close enough to try to restrain him, Jason fought back. And unlike their last scuffle, his attacks were far more certain, controlled, and trained. Not only that, but he was also attempting to aim for the parts of their armor that were the weakest. But as soon as he managed to put space between them, he tried to run again. Eventually, he managed to pin Jason on the ground as Bruce delivered a dose of sedatives.

As he started to succumb to the medication, Dick could have sworn Jason whispered, “Even you, Bruce…?” What in the world prompted that response?

Once they were certain he was out, Bruce picked up his son and carried him to the MedBay, where Steph and Cass had already begun prepping. They were hesitant to put in an IV without knowing exactly what happened, they did the basic medical checks before Bruce took a blood sample and summoned Alfred.

As he did that, Dick and Steph checked Jason for any sign of injuries. It turned out he had tried gouging the side of his face that had the more severe scarring. However, when they cleaned up the blood, the scarring wasn’t visible. Alarmed, Dick checked Jason’s hands and arms. His fingers no longer looked or felt misaligned, and just like on his face, the scars on his arms weren’t there.

“I hadn’t been imagining it,” he said more to himself than anyone else. “Something’s been healing him.”

“But what?” Steph questioned as she glanced back and forth between Jason and Bruce. “This isn’t some mystic coming back to life thing, is it?”

“Something tells me it’s not that simple,” he replied as he moved to let Bruce do his second round of checks. Glancing to his side, he saw Damian hesitantly hovering nearby. Cass was beside him with a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Dames, what happened?”

“I… hadn’t anticipated such a strong reaction.” The unease in his statement immediately set up alarm bells. Most people wouldn’t be able to catch it, but Dick had worked with Damian to know that when his mask of confidence fell, something was wrong.

Bruce noticed it too. “What did you give him?”

“It was obvious that Todd’s body would not recover even if his mind would,” Damian stated. “While I know you had made the decision not to use it, Mother assured me that a small amount of Lazarus Water would help heal him and limit any potential side effects. At first, I had only been adding a few drops to his tea as a precaution.”

“At first? Wait, is that why that water tasted so off?” If that was the case, he and Jason cleaned the fridge for no reason. That wasn’t what he needed to focus on at the moment. He could complain about doing unnecessary chores later.

Damian nodded once as he glanced at Bruce. “If you kept him here much longer, it was likely he’d try to escape. I… increased the dose to make sure he’d at least have his full capabilities if he decided to do something foolish. I had believed he would respond the same as the previous times, but he did not.”

Bruce did not immediately respond as he moved past the medical table to kneel in front of Damian, who crossed his arms and almost defiantly stared at him. “Why did you go against my wishes?” he asked, keeping his voice relatively neutral.

“Todd is important to you and to Grayson,” he explained. “The longer it takes for him to recover, the more distracted the two of you become. As you know, that increased the risk of being injured on the field…”

Dick gently ruffled Damian’s hair. “Thanks for being worried about us, but did you ever think Jason might not be okay with this?” When his brother gave him his version of a baffled expression, he continued, “Jay’s naturally wary of any type of drug, even if it’s standard medication. Finding out you added something that, while it helped heal him, could also negatively affect his mind, might not go over all that well when he finds out about it. I’m sure he’ll appreciate it in the long run,” he hastily added, “but he never had a choice in the matter.”

“Your mother may have also neglected to warn you how painful coming in contact with Lazarus Water can be,” Bruce added. Dick had to give him credit, he was trying to be patient and understanding with Damian. The kid had grown up in a cult where his grandfather’s use of the stuff was commonplace after all. “Ra’s has been bathing in the Waters for so long that I doubt he recognizes the pain anymore, but for most people, it’s excruciatingly painful.”

Damian glanced towards where Jason was resting. “I see. Perhaps I was hasty in my actions.”

While it wasn’t what most people would consider an apology, Dick knew it was Damian’s version of one. Hopefully, this would prevent any further use of Lazarus Water on family members without permission. Speaking of which, they were going to have to determine when exactly Damian reached out to Talia and determine which Pit was used. Most of the Pits were reportedly sealed, but it didn’t mean they weren’t using an old one. And if they weren’t, they would have to determine where the new one was.

“While I understand you acted out of what you thought was the best course of action for everyone involved, you still went against my instructions,” Bruce continued as sternness crept into his tone. “This experiment of yours could have unpredictable effects on your brother. We’ll discuss punishment after we finish with Jason’s medical checks.”

“I understand, Father.”

Dick felt for the kid. While Damian was doing better with understanding how ‘normal’ people worked, he still had trouble. Nothing about what he did was malicious in any way, which by itself showed his growth, but it wasn’t right for him to have given Jason something so volatile. With how little Jason received, hopefully he wouldn’t have to deal with the known side effects.

Speaking of which, could Jason feel that same fiery pain when he was drinking it in the tea? Dick hadn’t noticed anything when he sipped the contaminated water, so maybe it was concentration dependent. Or maybe Jason’s chronic pain from his injuries helped prevent him from noticing. Either way, at least his brother hopefully wouldn't have to deal with that pain any longer.

…

“Oracle, any new information?” Bruce requested over the comms.

“Just like I told you five minutes ago, I haven’t seen anything yet,” came Babs’ exasperated reply, but her voice softened as she continued, “As soon as I catch sight of him, I’ll let you know. Don’t worry, Bruce, we’ll find him.”

There was no reply.

Dick just sighed as he grappled through the city to one of the points of interest. While they weren’t entirely sure when Jason woke up from the video feed, he waited until the only one in the Cave was Tim to begin to move. Then, when Tim was distracted at his conspiracy board, he carefully grabbed his things from the Cell, with the exception of Alfred’s Tupperware. He then took one of Bruce’s secondary utility belts and a grapple from one of the work benches, managed to get himself on one of the Batcycles, and raced off before Tim had a chance to ever respond.

The security footage was amazing to watch. Dick could see his Robin training in the way he carefully moved around the Cave, and there was no hesitation as he jumped on the Batcycle. While it would still have to be confirmed, he believed Jason had recovered most, if not all, of his memories from the Lazarus Water.

But why had he left? Was it possible he was going to take on Black Mask by himself? Dick hoped not. They hadn’t told him the locations they had narrowed down for Mask’s hiding places, and they hadn’t found any evidence he had gotten into their databases. That meant he’d be going in blind. The last time Jason ran off, he got killed. They just got him back. Dick wouldn’t be able to handle it if they lost him again, and he couldn’t imagine what it would do to Bruce if that happened.

Other than when he came into the city, Babs had only caught a couple glimpses of him on the cameras, but she hadn’t gotten a clear picture of where he was going. Since they weren’t entirely certain of his destination, Bruce decided that he would stake out the three possible locations for Black Mask along with Cass and Tim while Dick, Damian, and Steph would check a few places of interest such as Jason’s current apartment. Though Steph grumbled about it, they all knew she was relieved not to be anywhere near Mask.

While Steph rushed off towards Jason’s current apartment and Damian headed towards his old home, Dick headed towards Jason’s favorite gargoyle. Even if he found Jason, he personally believed Bruce should be the one to talk to him. However, Bruce was doing what he did best and was compartmentalizing his feelings. To him, the most rational thing to do at the moment would be to capture Black Mask to keep his son safe.

As he approached the building in question, he caught sight of a figure sitting next to a gargoyle. After radioing in he found Jason and requesting that Babs put him on a private line, he slowly approached him in hopes of not scaring him off.

Jason tensed as he heard him. “What do you want, Old Man?” Bitterness and exasperation colored his voice.

“He’s not here at the moment. Can I take a message?” he gently teased.

His brother turned and stared at him for a moment. His expression flickered through several emotions before finally settling on annoyance. “Are you here to drag me back?”

“I’d rather have you come back on your own. Can I sit?”

“Suit yourself.”

Making sure he gave his brother a respectful distance, he made himself as comfortable as he could before speaking again. “How much do you remember?”

Instead of answering him, he picked at his fingers. “What did that kid give me? Poison? Drugs? Was I that much of a fuck up to you guys that the new Robin,” he stumbled a little on the title, “had to try to kill me? Is that why I was really there? To figure out how much I remembered and take me out if I proved to be a liability?”

“No! Of course not! Jason,” Dick paused a moment to see how he’d react to his actual name. When Jason glanced at him, Dick took that as a good sign, “B wanted to make sure nothing happened to you while Black Mask is on the loose.”

“The last person I trusted told me it was safe too,” he stated before he whispered. “I… I died, Dick." His fingers desperately gripped his arms as he hugged himself. "I’m not supposed to be here. I’m… I’m not supposed to be alive.”

“You… you remember?”

“Remember how the person I hoped would love me sold me to the Joker to save her own skin? Or how she smoked while she watched that monster and his crony beat me with a crowbar? Or how she tried to double cross him and spectacularly failed? Or how I… I somehow pulled myself up and tried to disarm the bomb?” His voice began to crack. “Or maybe you’re talking about when I realized I was going to die and threw myself in front of that woman in hopes maybe she’d still survive?” He hung his head.

An icy hollow sensation filled his chest as Babs made a choking sob over the comm. “Jay…” What could he say to that? For years, they had believed he’d rushed in without backup for some reason, but this was the complete opposite. He’d been betrayed by his own mother.

Realization hit him. That must have been why he acted like that when they knocked him out. He thought they were going to betray him too.

“Why did I think she’d be any different? No one wanted me, or if they did, they got bored of me after a while.” His voice had dropped to a whisper. “Willis got himself killed after turning back to crime. He said he did it to keep us off the streets, but it changed him after a while. He stayed away more, and when he was there, he didn't seem interested. Catherine had been a great mom before she became addicted. I don’t know how often she actually knew I was there. Bruce… I guess I deluded myself into thinking he cared. ‘Jason Todd: a good soldier’,” he recited bitterly. “No wonder I was replaceable.”

Oh god, he saw the memorial plaque. Dammit Bruce. “But you weren’t!”

“We both know I was just a poor replacement for you.”

“Jay… Little Wing… you were no one’s replacement. You weren’t a soldier.” Did Jason really feel like that? Or was this a possible side effect of the Lazarus Water? It was reported to enhance negative emotions, but it was hard to say just how intense those effects might be with him drinking it.  So, he tried a different tactic. “Remember what we were talking about a few days ago? About how he was after he lost Robin, after he lost you. That wasn’t the anger of a general losing a soldier. That was the grief of a father losing his son.”

When there was no response, he continued. “I’m not going to excuse my behavior when I first found out about you. B’s lack of communication and the decision to pass on the role without my permission didn’t help an already tense situation. I was young and stupid and took out some of that anger on you, but you were a good kid and a great Robin. I didn’t lie when I told you I genuinely regret that I wasn’t around more. I… I was devastated when I found out.” Silence fell between them as he tried to figure out what else to say.

Jason’s head was still bowed as he finally decided to speak up. “What… what did the kid give me?” He clenched and unclenched his hands a few times. Apparently, he decided not to unpack his feelings about the previous conversation. Honestly, Dick respected that. “I felt like I was burning from the inside out…”

“Well…” No matter how he attempted to explain this, it wasn’t going to go over well. “Do you remember B’s ex?”

His brother gave him an unimpressed look. “Which one?”

“The one associated with assassins. She’s Robin’s mother.”

Realization was quickly replaced with absolute revulsion. “You mean to tell me he managed to get her to send him his grandfather’s bathwater… and he had me drink it? Oh, fuck you! It’s not funny.”

Dick couldn’t help it. He had to laugh. Up until recently, he never thought he’d have a chance like this ever again. “It’s not, but your summary was.” After a moment he added, “Don’t be too mad at Robin. He thought it was the best way to help you.”

“… I wish it would have left the scars…” Jason’s voice was almost inaudible. “I got used to them, and they were the only tie I had to the past I couldn’t remember. Now, I can’t even go back to the life I was living. It wasn’t the best, but it wasn’t bad.”

“You could always come home.”

“I don’t know if I can. It’s not… I’m not…” He ran his hands through his hair as he tried to find the words he needed. “Dick, I lived… what is it? Five, six years? On my own. You didn’t know I was here, and I certainly didn’t know all the answers I wanted were in the big house on the hill. I know it’s not anyone’s fault and that it’s irrational, I know, but it hurts that no one looked for me before this. It hurts that everything moved on without me, and I was right here the entire time.”

“But I also don’t know how I can face B now that I know,” he continued as he pulled his knees up and rested his chin on them. It made him look much younger. “He probably didn’t tell you, but we were fighting before I took off before... Anyways, it got to the point where he told me he wasn’t my dad.”

Dick knew there had been some tension between Jason and Bruce in the months leading up to his death. They’d talked a few times about it. Bruce, who preferred his partners following his lead, had a hard time accepting Jason’s burgeoning independence. It wasn’t out of hatred or malice, but a deep-seated fear his son would get hurt. Something that took over a decade for Dick to learn because, in the heat of the moment, it never came across like that. So, he listened and let his brother vent, but he didn’t realize it had gotten so bad near the end. Bruce loved Jason. It was obvious he loved Jason, but to someone who had abandonment issues, saying something like that would be devastating.

“Got benched,” if Jason noticed his discomfort, he ignored it and pressed on. “Figured it was only a matter of time before I got thrown out, so, after finding out about my mom, I decided to save him the trouble. Then I let that woman know I was Robin, and she decided I’d been a great bargaining chip.” He shook his head. “Now there are new faces I don’t recognize… And I don’t know if I’m willing to get dragged back into Batman’s war.”

His heart sank a little at his brother’s words. Dick had to remind himself that he knew it was a possibility. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. And even if you do, you can take a supporting role like Oracle does.”

His brother rolled his eyes. “You and I both know it’s impossible not to get dragged into it when you’re part of this family. And you know how I am. I don’t like feeling powerless when there’s something I might be able to do to help people. Now that I’m... I guess me again, it’ll only be a matter of time before I somehow get involved in something.” He paused. “Wait, who’s Oracle. Another new face?”

It took a moment for Dick to understand Jason’s confusion. Of course, he wouldn’t know Babs took on that role as that occurred after her death. “Nope. You actually know her.”

“Barbie?”

He had to chuckle at the surprise on Jason’s face as well as his use of his old nickname for Babs. “Yeah. She’s been doing fine and has been waiting for you to recover your memory so she can come see you. But if you want, I can hand you a comm, and you can talk to her now.”

There was a moment of consideration. “Not… not right now. There’s too much chaos to sift through, but I promise I will soon.”

Dick chuckled as Babs muttered in his ear that she’d hunt him down if he didn’t. “She’s holding you to that.” His smile fell. “What are you planning to do now?”

“I don’t know…”

“Well… I don’t recommend going back to your apartment.”

Jason snorted. “If you think I’m going to be put back in a cell again…”

“No! Of course not! I didn’t want that for you in the first place, but B’s going to insist you stay somewhere safe until we can catch Mask. He’s probably also going to want to do some tests due to the unauthorized consumption of Ra’s bathwater.”

“…You are never going to let me live that down.”

“Not in a million years.” Genuinely smiling, Dick stood and offered Jason his hand. “Come on.”

His brother’s expression turned distrustful. “So you can escort me back?”

“Is it so hard to believe I want to fly with my brother again? Now, where did you park that cycle?”

…

Alfred was waiting for them in the Cave. Until that point, he had begrudgingly agreed to keep his distance from Jason until he regained his memories. Bruce believed that since Jay had retained enough of his skills and deductive reasoning, there would be a good chance he’d make the connection between him and ‘Agent A’ and didn’t want to take that risk if Jason never recovered. It was the only reason Damian had been allowed to take Jason the tea trays. Now that it was clear Jason remembered, he wanted to be there to greet him.

“Master Jason, it’s good to see you.”

Jason gave him a shaky smile. “Hey, Alfie. Did you get your Tupperware?”

“I did. Thank you for cleaning it for me.” He moved forward so he stood in front of Jason and gently touched his shoulder. “Let me take a good look at you.” After taking in his appearance, he nodded approvingly. “You’ve turned into such a fine young man without us.”

Without saying anything, Jason hugged the older man. Alfred seemed surprised by the sudden display of emotion but returned the hug. Both of their eyes seemed a little wet, but Dick wasn’t going to call either of them out on it. He was going to pester his brother for a hug of his own later, when Jason was less conflicted.

His living situation was something they’d have to revisit later. Bruce was going to do everything in his power to try to keep him at the Manor, but Jason had lived on his own for years without overt influence from their family. He might not be able to tolerate being back under Bruce’s thumb, especially if he decided to go back into the field.

What name would Jason even take if he decided to go back? Did he have names picked out when he was still Robin? Wait, they didn’t even know how he felt about Tim, Steph, and Damian all using the name after his death. That might be something they need to unpack with him sooner than later. He’d died in the role and wouldn’t necessarily understand why there had been other Robins. Tim or Steph might have mentioned why in passing, but he needed to confirm it. No matter how much Jason did or didn’t know, there was no way he was going to let Bruce give that explanation, not after the debacle with the memorial plaque.

Speaking of which, he still needed to take that thing down. And yell at Bruce about it.

…

After a basic physical and a blood test, Alfred went to go get some refreshments while Dick waited in a nervous silence with his brother for the others. As much as he wanted to chat Jason’s ear off, it was probably too much too soon. All of them, well, probably all of them, had dealt with memory loss to some extent at one point or another. But unlike the others, Jason’s missing memories involved his death. How was anyone supposed to unpack that?

Wait, there was a way they could speak without words! After changing into civies, he jogged over to the training area, grabbed some equipment, headed back towards his brother, and offered them to him. When Jason gave him a baffled look, he just smiled and gestured towards the training mats. His brother didn’t move, somewhat unsure if Dick was serious.

So, to show he was, he threw a padded glove at his head. Chuckling at the offended expression on Jason’s face as he scrambled to his feet, Dick threw the rest of the gear at him before retreating to the training area to wait. Their fight began as Jason made it to the mat and threw a left haymaker.

He was rusty, and it didn’t help he seemed awkward in his own body. If Dick had to guess, there was probably a disconnect between how he remembered he should move as Robin and how he had to move from his injuries. Not only had he gained a surprising amount of height, but he was also still dealing with the aftermath of muscle atrophy which made his movements somewhat jerky. But that was okay. This was just supposed to be an outlet.

There was anger and desperation in his movements. And pain, so much pain and loneliness. As they continued, some of those negative emotions began to fade in intensity as Jason started enjoying himself.

By the time the others returned from staking out Black Mask’s hideouts and patrols, Dick and Jason had finished their match and were having Alfred patch them up. They mostly just had forming bruises, but both of them had gotten a couple good hits on the other. The butler at least pretended to be disappointed in their actions as Bruce headed over towards them.

Any word he was going to say died on his lips when he realized Dick wasn’t wearing his costume. After taking in the fresh injuries, he looked back and forth between his two sons with a raised eyebrow in what was his own version of bafflement.

“Why are you surprised?” Jason questioned as Alfred finished putting butterfly sutures on the cut above his eyebrow. Dick had caught him just a little too hard on that strike. “The two of us got into a fight the first time we met. It’s practically bonding at this point.���

Dick chuckled. While it wasn’t funny at the time, he had put Jason in a headlock when they first met. Why Alfred had decided to put Jason in Dick’s room instead of a guestroom while his was getting prepared would baffle him for the rest of his life. “That’s true, but you picked a fight with B too when you first met.”

“In my defense, I was jacking tires off the Batmobile and did not want to end up in Juvie or the foster care system.” Jay smirked. “What’s your excuse? I was sleeping when you pulled that bullshit.”

“Look, patrol was rough that night, and I wasn’t expecting to find anyone in my bed.”

“Maybe if you had actually told someone you were coming home that night…”

“What? And ruin the surprise when I showed up for breakfast?”

Giggles interrupted their banter. Glancing towards their audience standing behind Bruce, he noticed Steph obviously giving Tim a shit-eating grin, even if it was hidden under her mask. Oh, hadn’t she hit him with a brick on their first meeting? Now that he thought about it, Tim was the odd man out. He hadn’t tried attacking anyone in their family when he met them.

Using the momentary distraction, Damian moved to Jason’s side. “I take it your facilities are completely functional again.”

Instead of immediately responding, their brother opened and closed his hands a few times. “I think so, but do me a favor, even if I’m on death’s door, don’t ever give me that stuff again.”

“Understood. It had not been my intention to cause such distress.”

Jay hesitantly reached out and ruffled Damian’s hair. “Don’t beat yourself up about it. I just need time to get used to and sort through everything. Too much happened at once.” While Damian did pull away, there was a slight smile on his face.

“Jason…?” Bruce had raised a hand as if he wanted to reach out but stopped halfway. Disbelief and a wary hope made their way into his voice.

“If I say ‘yes’, are you going to lock me away again?”

“No!” As he pulled off the cowl, Bruce finally moved close enough to Jason to touch him. Carefully, he cradled his face in his hands. “No. Jay, Lad… I… We just found you again. I couldn’t risk… Not again. I didn't... I didn't know how else to keep you here, to keep you safe.”

After gently moving Bruce’s hands, Jason slowly stood and hugged Bruce. There was a moment of stunned disbelief before Bruce returned it. "Don't think I'm happy with you. Cuffs, Bruce. What the fuck?" Jason told him as his voice softened. "But it's me. I'm really here, Bruce."

Deciding they probably didn’t need an audience, Dick started rounding up his siblings and herding them towards the changing rooms. While there was some grumbling, especially from Tim, Dick reminded them there would be plenty of time for proper introductions in the morning. For now, father and son needed some time to reconnect without an audience.

As he made sure none of them would attempt to sneak back over, the fact Jason was really home finally hit him. This wasn’t some specter or hallucination or a man with no memory of himself. It was really Jason. He wouldn’t have to watch his words or watch from afar. Now, he would be able to do all the things he never thought he’d ever have a chance to do with his first brother.

If Jason hadn’t been writing his old cases, if Damian hadn’t won that art contest, they never would have found him. As much as he tried not to use the word, it really felt like a miracle.

“What do you mean you still haven’t caught Black Mask?” Jason’s offended voice interrupted Dick’s thoughts. “Seriously Old Man, what have you been doing out there? Are you losing your touch?”

Sighing, Dick shook his head. Some things never change.

=========================

Did I intend to write a parallel to “et tu, Brute” in this. No. Did I cackle when I realized it? Absolutely

We are ignoring the idea of Ric Grayson in this house

In Death in the Family, it’s explicitly stated Babs got shot 1 month before the events of the arc start. It’s usually depicted as happening after DitH in later renditions.

In RHatO (Rebirth run), it was shown Jason was staying in Dick’s room as his was getting prepared. And that’s how Dick found out about him – he went to go sleep in his bed, found an unknown kid, and put him in a headlock. While I do prefer the idea Dick and Jason had a decent relationship, it’s too funny for me not to reference.

Regarding the Lazarus water... the idea for the small amounts actually comes from an episode of Batman: Beyond. Now, I could be misremembering, but I'm mostly certain there was a holiday episode where it was suggested Talia had been giving Bruce small amounts of it for years with no apparent ill effects.

#don't forget to write #Writer AU #fanfiction #fanfic #Dc comics #Bruce Wayne #Batman #Jason Todd #Red Hood #Dick Grayson #Nightwing

[rhetoricandlogic]

Review: Inside Man by K.J. Parker

I picked up Inside Man because I was tempted by Prosper’s Demon.

No seriously. I wanted to read this book because I was surprised at how much I enjoyed the first book in what I really didn’t expect to be a series that seems to have begun anyway with Prosper’s Demon.

This series is set in an alternate universe to our own, in an era that is more-or-less like our Renaissance but isn’t exactly – because it isn’t exactly our world.

It is, however, a world where the angels and demons that people believed in during the Renaissance in our own world – and that many still believe in to this day – are quite, quite real. And are competing for the souls of, well, pretty much everyone.

The story in Prosper’s Demon turned out to be a kind of “greater good” story, where the definition of “good” and “evil” really did depend on where you happened to be sitting. Particularly on whether you happened to be the demon living inside Prosper giving him the genius to be his world’s da Vinci, or whether you happened to be the demon-extractor who was supposed to remove the demon if it killed Prosper. And especially even if removing the demon removed Prosper’s genius, which it certainly would, making him normal and depriving his world of everything their da Vinci equivalent would produce in his lifetime.

The story in Inside Man is quite a bit different, and it didn’t work quite as well, at least not for this reader. Even though its combination of Good Omens with The Screwtape Letters was kind of inspired.

The book consists of a series of letters from Screwtape to his nephew Wormwood, a Junior Tempter. Screwtape is giving Wormwood pointers on the best methods for tempting humans to sell their souls to the devil. While the whole thing addresses the Christian theological issues that Lewis wrestled with for a significant chunk of his life, the letters themselves are wry, frequently humorous, and have a lot of very true things to say about human nature.

The story in Inside Man does invoke the same kind of “sympathy for the devil” that Screwtape did, but the story feels like it owes a lot more to Good Omens than even it’s predecessor did. Or at least to that part of Good Omens that illustrated the concept that angels and demons have more in common with each other than either of them do with their respective “head offices” back home – whether home is above or below.

Inside Man also plays, and plays hard, with another bit from Good Omens – the bit where both Crowley and Aziraphale find themselves questioning whether either Heaven or Hell really has that ineffable plan that they keep proclaiming they do. And just like in Good Omens, the demon protagonist of Inside Man figures out that they don’t. Have a plan, that is.

But he does.

Escape Rating B-: I loved Prosper’s Demon so I expected to love Inside Man and I was disappointed that I didn’t. Although Prosper borrowed bits from Good Omens, it really did take them in its own direction. It also worked well that the human whose soul is being contested, while he isn’t exactly Leonardo da Vinci, was close enough to da Vinci to ground the story in a sense of the real.

We could appreciate the consequences of the demon vs. demon-extractor debate because we had a pretty clear picture of what those consequences would be. Leonardo da Vinci, any version of da Vinci, would be sorely missed in any world where he existed.

Inside Man made the not-our-world setting more obvious and a bit harder to get past – or perhaps into – by not giving us as clear a frame of reference. Meanwhile, the whole concept of “The Plan” and the lack thereof felt like it borrowed too heavily from Good Omens without giving us Crowley and Aziraphale to root for.

On my third hand, Inside Man is really, really short. I didn’t have any problems finishing it. I just kept wishing it was as good as its predecessor.

#K.J. Parker #Inside Man #mahreviews #long post

[bloodybells1]

On Your Marx

“How many different translations of Das Kapital does a man need?” 

-my Aunt Martha

I recently paid a much overdue visit to my uncle who lives in Bogotá. The last time I was in Colombia, where a good chunk of my family resides, was in the mid-aughts, back when the aspect of the man I was greeted my family with a different mixture than today. They knew me as a nephew or a cousin, depending on who we’re talking about, who managed to become wildly successful in the music industry and they also knew me as someone with a slightly jaundiced complexion. The two were not unrelated, of course.

My aunt—married to my uncle who is the brother of my mother—has confirmed this impression, if perhaps without the hyperbole I’m certain the above paragraph contains. All she really said was that today, as compared with that erstwhile visit from over a decade-and-a-half, I seem to be a much more open human being, owing perhaps slightly to my greater facility with the Spanish language, but not exclusively so. There’s been a change, she said.

I mention this anecdote because it illustrates most directly how wonderful it is in life when time passes and someone confirms that change has indeed occurred. I may be more restless than average, but, regardless, it seems to be a universal truth that life is about change, so it’s good when there’s proof. 

My uncle is a respected political scientist in Colombia and was instrumental in “El Proceso de Paz” and it was easy to detect all this in the way his impromptu lectures unfolded over the first handful of evenings I spent at his house the other week. He has that steady diction of a professor well-accustomed to spontaneous aggregates of clauses and arguments and he deploys rhetorical devices, such as self-questioning aloud, that move his cases forward. I learned more about Colombian history from him during the first part of my stay than in my entire life, along with my own family’s involvement with it.

I’ll write about the particulars of that involvement some other time. Today I’m enjoying looking at the image I’ve pasted at the top of this blog post. This is the view afforded by my uncle’s desk in his study. 

As an artist I often question why I’m so drawn to politics. I am especially inquisitive about this recently, as my art has sought to evoke much quieter spaces, such as wilderness settings, than the boisterous and contentious atmospheres that characterize the political sphere. When I engage in political discussions, whether on Twitter or while talking with neighbors, I notice immediately the much more piquant vibe, a saucier texture of staccato rhythms and higher blood pressure, than, say, the singing bowl tintinnabulation of all of my meditation music and nebulous sound baths.

Why, then, do my interests in ideological contestation persist?

I think it’s just the way I’m made. Thanks to my father, I grew up suffused in politics. He was adamant about checking the progress of what he saw as liberal propaganda in the schools and on the television with the alternative framework of his conservative vision. Mostly this turned out to verge on the paranoiac and was almost singularly trained on the illumination of the moral failings of the liberal world view. I grew up with a steady stream of “owning the libs” rhetoric, before that was even a thing. 

Sadly for him, his worldview could not compete with the persuasive power of modern media and education, both of which turned out to factor greatly into my turn to the left in my late teens.

I started out on the right and not just because of my dad. Patriarchy and racism were part and parcel of the working class Elmhurst, Queens of the ‘80s which was my home, along with the “small town” car mechanic culture I aligned with in the New Jersey suburbs as a metalhead in the early ‘90s.

Then a real big change happened when Grunge swept through the zeitgeist, when I ditched my suddenly uncool headbanger threads and got interested in more “real” musics which were becoming fashionable in the wake of Seattle’s incursion such as punk-hardcore. The friends I kept in this new circle were decidedly anti-racist—if not entirely non-patriarchal—and were instrumental in ushering me towards the pursuit of a more leftist politics than what I had known up to that point. When I read Kurt Cobain’s slightly hysterical antiracist/antisexist manifesto in the liner notes of In Utero, Nirvana’s follow-up to Nevermind, I hear an echo of the same unease I felt with being connected to a scene with a much more regressive politics than I had come to appreciate by hanging out with all of these leftist punks. 

What I learned at that juncture basically stayed unchanged for about twenty years. I went around thinking I was very leftwing, not even aware of how I’d really only learned to appreciate a rather topical issue. Being on the leftwing side of cultural issues is only half of the puzzle, but I still didn’t know that all those years. 

I stayed this way until 2020 when I discovered Bernie Sanders and the last vestige of my class interests dominating my politics cracked. I had noticed a sharp drop in my sense of status when I left the music industry and this was fairly traumatic for my ego. I’m still learning from this occurrence—even to this day. I think the reason why I’m so attracted to socialism is because of what that trauma made painfully clear to me: that the higher status I experienced in the music industry occluded my awareness of my own class interests. Socialism, then, with its rational deconstruction of the way social relations are defined by, and occluded by, capital, feels quite logical to me.

I’m struck by the difference between my politics today and the last time I saw my uncle all those years ago. Though I’d been a liberal for quite some time by that point, I still couldn't even define “leftism” back then. The spiritual change in myself that my aunt Martha noticed and took pains to point out correlates with a political one: despite my liberalism (or, some would say, because of it) my class interests when she first saw me over fifteen years ago dominated my politics. I read the New York Times every day and believed every neoliberal word that jumped out of the page. I could only see in the binary of left and right a difference in culture and failed to see the much more troubling economic consensus of class interests between both the left and the right that characterizes that paper’s program. In other words, when I looked at the above image over my uncle’s desk, I saw only a dude in a long beard and knew very little of the radicalism behind his thought, how Marxism demolishes the neat binaries of mainstream media.

Unlike my father, my uncle had no say in my turn to the left, the more recent, much more authentic, turn I have taken. Or, if he did, it was all rather indirect. The internal reverberations of the things I learned on this trip to Bogotá about my family’s political history, on the Colombian side, my mother’s side, are going to echo within me for a long time. Yet, already, I can see something that has happened conclusively and maybe it’s something that actually points out of the political arena, to a truth about what it means to be part of a family in general. 

For if there is indeed an invisible line that ties us to our blood relations and to our ancestors and to our descendants, if there is some kind of spiritual thread that binds members of clans together, irrespective of narrative or persuasion, something, that is, ontological which links us as members of the same family, irrespective of conscious awareness, such that one might be able to talk with objectivity of family curses and family spells and family spirits, if all of this is indeed true, then it was with some wonderful recognition of the homecoming of a journey that I was able to see this poster hanging up on the wall in front of my uncle’s desk and notice that, independently of any possible influence he could’ve had over the last fifteen years, I had connected with a spirit within me that was older than I was.