#I've drawn him this way for DECADES

[getvalentined]

Vincent Valentine ❇ FINAL FANTASY VII REBIRTH

Chaos-induced bioluminescent heterochromia appreciation post.

—

[ screenshots free to use with credit ]

[sysig]

My ship now (Patreon)

[lucifer-kane]

2023 is apparently the year I'm making RvB fanart (mostly bc I'm rewatching it with a friend bc of the final season annoucement). Anyways. Donut Gay AND Transgender Legend

[alphajocklover]

Man I'm just some scrawny skater and always have been. I always make fun of meatheads at the gym for being obsessed with size and power, but recently I watched the Hulk movie and I think I get it... The idea of becoming unstoppable and reigning supreme.

My friends have been worried about me since I've stopped hanging out with me and started hitting the gym but I wish I could just Hulk out without the whole 'Hulk speak' part. Something about letting my inner beast take over like the other dudes in the gym is tempting. Could you help me out?

The thing everyone forgets about the hulk is that, after decades of being in the comics, Bruce Banner is far more complicated than the movies would suggest. Sure, it started out like all the movies do, with Banner being transformed into the Hulk by some terrible accident, switching between forms whenever angered, but over the years and the dozens upon dozens of different storylines the Hulk has become so much more complicated. Over the years Bruce Banner has gained more than just one alternate personality. There’s himself, of course, ther nerdy genius. Then there’s the classic hulk, dumb angry and strong. But there have been many others over the years. Joe Fixit, the gray hulk with the mind and personality of a Vegas mobster, Doc Green/professor Hulk, a version of the hulk with both the brains and the brawn, and Green Scar, a cunning warrior who ruled an entire planet (for a short time). These are only a few of his many different forms and personalities. So, if you wanna be like the Hulk… it’s going to be more than just the nerd and the hunk.

Let’s start with the basics. That is to say, let’s start with you. The Skater. Your original personality, the one who makes fun of meathead jocks and doesn’t give a fuck about being strong. Or at least didn’t until recently. But after watching that movie… something’s changed inside of you. It awakened parts of yourself you didn’t even know were there. And I’m not speaking metaphorically. It seems that certain triggers now cause you to change into other forms, other people. At first they presented themselves as the sudden urge to workout and desire to be a jock, but now they don’t need to be just urges. They’ve developed into full on identities. When you’re not in a different form you’ll revert to your original self, the skinny skater you used to be… but that won’t be very often. Your other selves are way too greedy to give the pathetic little skater his fair share.

Next is your hulk. But for you it’d be more accurate to call him the Hunk. Beefy, muscular, dumb and sexy as hell. He’s everything you used to hate and everything you now long to be. An alpha male, a jock, a himbo, a stud. Your inner beast. He's the one who goes to the gym with your new bros, flirts with anything that moves, and flexes almost constantly. He isn’t brought forth by anger like the real hulk is though. You turn into the Hunk when horny. Makes sense. Just like how the Hulk is always angry, the Hunk is always horny. A complete and utter fuckboy stud, and until you get control over his wild libido, you’ll be turning into him almost constantly.

After that is your Joe Fixit. Let’s call him Joe. If it ain’t broke don’t fix it. Just like in the original comics Joe isn’t summoned by an emotion, but by the night. He’s drawn out by the thrill of the nightlife, by clubs and secret backrooms and grinding against each other in the dark while the beat pumps through you like a drug. He spends the first half of the night as a bouncer, using his beef, strength and sometimes even his charm to keep certain people out. The second half he spends flirting with chicks, dancing at the club, partying, drinking, and on a good night fucking his latest babe in the clubs VIP room. The best part is that he never has to deal with a hangover, and whichever you who wakes up in the morning is always well rested.

Your next form is the one who has it all. Your Doc Green, the one with the brains and the brawn. He actually is a med student who is trying to become a doctor, so let’s call him Doc. Charming, manly, and muscular, but also sensitive, kind and intelligent. His trigger is less clear, but you know he comes out when you need him. Whether its for a shift at work, to charm a girl or guy you actually like enough to date and not just fuck, he’s there. What he’s really good at though is making money. For a med student he’s shockingly loaded, probably because he set up a very successful onlyfans account for each of you. You, the regular you, watch his videos sometime. You always turn into the Hunk before the video ends.

Finally is the warrior. The green scar. You just call him Jock. Because that’s what he is. He comes out fairly rarely, only when you’re feeling very competitive, usually during sports events and bodybuilding contests. He’s tough, rough, and never backs down. He’s surprisingly intelligent, but uses most of this intelligence on strategy and tactics. He’s the perfect team leader, and is incredibly dominant on and off the field.

Between the Hunk, Joe, Doc, and Jock, there isn’t much time for you anymore. But this is what you wanted, want you fucking love being each of them. You finally released your inner beast. All four of them.

**hey there! Hope you guys liked the story. I know most people go a different direction when it comes to ‘hulking out’ but I thought maybe something a little different like this would be more interesting. I hope whoever requested the story enjoys it, and that you don’t mind me showing off my inner comic book geek**

[dirty-jammies]

💕🍰 A Treat for the Prince 🍮🦈

(Prince Sidon x Chubby!Fem!Reader)

You and Sidon attend a royal banquet. You're instantly drawn to the vast array of desserts, but your lover wants to indulge in something even sweeter...

Contents: bad dessert innuendos, body worship, breast touching/sucking, oral (fem recieving), multiple orgasms, overstim, vaginal sex, double penetration (Sidon has 2 dicks), rough sex, little bit of breeding kink, uhhh and our Prince loves thicc Hylian ladies!

(Notes: Here we go! The first of (hopefully) many Sidon x reader fics from yours truly!)

As King Dorephan gave his speech, you tried your best to pay attention, though your eyes kept drifting to the large display of food on the table before you. It was a celebration banquet for the citizens of Zora's Domain, so they went all-out. Celebrating Bazz's promotion to Sergeant of the Royal Guards, welcoming the new head physician for the domain, Yona, and, of course, honouring yourself as the newly-named official consort for the Prince of the Zora.

You glanced up to Sidon, who immediately met your eyes and gave you a smile. The title of consort was simply a formality, you and Sidon were already far, far closer than that, though that was a secret just the two of you kept. The bitemarks on your shoulders from last night were proof enough of that. You hid them well under a soft cloak that complimented your silk dress beautifully. It was a sapphire blue that matched the jewels decorating the Prince's armour. The fabric hugged your soft middle in a way that made the Prince's eyes keep running up and down your lovely form. You flushed under his gaze, and gave him a look that said "Later."

King Dorephan finished his speech and the room applauded. Everyone took their seats and you followed suit, sitting next to Sidon and smiling at the bountiful feast everyone could enjoy. Naturally it featured fresh seafood, but there were also several Hylian dishes to suit your palate. You took a little of everything, making sure you'd have room to enjoy the desserts you could spy off to the side.

Sidon took your hand under the table, "Is everything to your liking, my droplet?" He spoke softly, lest anyone hear the endearing pet name.

You hummed around a forkful of salmon marinated in herbs and stambulbs, "It's magnificent, my Prince." You smiled brightly.

Sidon matched your smile, "Wonderful! I'm glad you enjoy it," he gestured to some crab cakes on his plate, "I've never had these before, they're quite good! I never knew Hylian food was so rich!"

You laughed a bit and politely wiped your mouth with a napkin, “It shouldn’t concern you, my Prince, with all the swimming you do, you can indulge for a night.”

“I’m not concerned, and you shouldn’t be either,” Sidon brushed your leg with his own and you shivered at the rough texture of his skin, he leaned down to whisper to you, “I do so love watching you indulge in the finer things in life~” he slid another helping of fish onto your plate and you flushed.

Sidon sat back in his seat, as though nothing happened, and he turned to interrupt Muzu, who was beginning to say something like “What kind of royal consort is served by the prince!?”

You kept eating, enjoying the flavours of the different types of fish mingling with vegetables and herbs. Before long, the entree plates were emptied and cleared away, and plates full of decadent-looking desserts were brought out.

Sidon hummed, looking at the treats, “Oh my, I haven’t seen any of these, either! Let’s see, y/n?” you looked up as he said your name, “Which of these would you recommend?”

You swallowed, not having seen this many desserts in one place before. You surveyed the selection before your eyes caught on a simple white ramekin. You smiled and picked it up, “I think you’d enjoy this one, my Prince!” you set it before Sidon and handed him a spoon, “It’s called crème brûlée. It’s custard with burnt sugar on top.”

Sidon looked at the dish curiously, “It’s burnt… on purpose? Intriguing,” he went to scoop some out, and he grinned when the top crust cracked, “Oh! It shattered!” 

You smiled up at him as he tried a bite. You loved watching him indulge, too. He was always so worried about the Kingdom and his responsibilities, you always adored when he simply relaxed. You were very good at helping him relax, after all.

Sidon’s eyes widened, “This is simply perfect! It’s creamy and sweet, and the top is very crunchy and it has a different flavour entirely!” He hummed and looked at you, his eyes becoming half-lidded, “You know… this treat reminds me of you.”

“O-oh?” you felt your heart skip a beat at the heated look in the prince’s golden eyes, “How do you mean?”

Sidon ran his spoon through the silky custard cream, “It’s so sweet, and soft…” one of his hands squeezed your thigh through your dress, making you jump slightly. You could see his sharp teeth glint in the low candlelight as his low voice, only loud enough for you to hear, rumbled from his chest, “and so delightfully fun to break~” the spoon cracked the top of the brûlée and you felt a jolt go through your body as his claws poked into your plush thigh, no doubt leaving pinpricks in your dress.

“Is everything okay, y/n? Your face is positively red?” Sidon asked louder, feigning ignorance. You could see the cheeky, lusty look in his eyes still.

You cleared your throat, “I-I’m fine, thank you, my Prince.”

“Ah, I see the problem, you haven’t had any dessert yet,” Sidon laughed, “Go ahead, have whatever you’d like!”

You looked at the variety of the desserts still on the table, eyes being drawn to a personal-sized red velvet cake tiered with icing and wildberries. You smiled and set it in front of you, giving Sidon a coy smile of your own, “Hm, what a coincidence, this one reminds me of you.”

Sidon looked down at you after taking a sip of his drink from a tall glass flute, “Is that so, droplet?”

You licked your lips, “It’s red and rich and delicious…” you brought a forkful to your mouth and looked at your beloved through your lashes, “and I don’t know if it can all fit inside me.”

Everyone at the table turned your way as Sidon shattered the stem of his glass with the way his hand clenched. You hid your grin with a mouthful of cake, not caring about the cold liquid spilled on your lap. He covered his fluster with a cough and a laugh.

“O-oh! How clumsy of me! I spilled my drink all over y/n’s dress!” he laughed and took your hand, “It simply won’t do for my consort to be in such a state! Come, let’s get you cleaned up.”

Without another word (although with some cut-off protests from the other nobility at the table), Sidon whisked you away from the banquet and straight towards his (and your) quarters.

You giggled as he hastily locked the bedroom door behind him and fixed you with a lusty gaze.

“My naughty little minx,” he purred, caging you in against the bed, “You really know how to make me lose control.” He leaned down to capture your lips with his own and you moaned as you felt his huge hands run up your plush form, your dress bunching up at the sides, the silky fabric sliding up your body sensually, delighting the sensitive nerves of your sides and tummy. Your prince’s hands wasted no time and started feeling up your newly-exposed skin. Sidon’s tongue explored your mouth, the different flavours of caramel and berries mixing into an intoxicating sweetness.

“Sidon,” you breathed as he released your mouth, hands reaching up to undo your cloak. As the fabric fell away, the Zora let out a pleased rumble and started showering wet kisses to your shoulders and neck, “Ah, that feels so good!”

Sidon laughed roughly against your skin, “As sweet as that dessert was, I much prefer devouring you, my sweet~” He groaned as his hands dipped under your panties, getting two handfuls of your ass. You gasped as his sharp teeth grazed the tender bitemarks he left on you last night as he groped you roughly. “You drive me absolutely wild…” he panted, breath hot against your neck.

“Let me,” you put a hand on his chest and the prince pulled away just enough to let you completely pull off your blue dress, tossing it to the side. Sidon’s eyes were downright hungry as you reached behind you to unclasp your bra, leaving your top completely bare, “Come here?” you fell back on the bed, sandals coming off of your feet, and reached out to him, needing his hands on you again.

Sidon took a steadying breath and removed his cravat and armour pieces, watching you watch him with an equally greedy, needy desire. He set the pieces on his dresser and nearly launched himself at you. Your mouths met in a messy, desperate kiss, your arms around his strong neck and his hands exploring every dip and curve on your gorgeous, soft body. Your tongue ran over his teeth, and Sidon rumbled as he tasted some of your blood on his own tongue.

“So delicious,” he purred, moving down your body, trailing his long tongue down your body, leaving sucking bites all over your plush form. He lapped at your nipples, teasing the buds until they were stiff before pinching them roughly making you squeal. He grinned up at you, “Such a gorgeous reaction. I adore playing with you like this, droplet~” you squirmed in his hold, moaning in pleasure as he sucked dark marks into the soft, tender flesh of your breasts.

You were shivering in his hold, moaning into the cool air of the room. Sidon nuzzled into your belly, kissing right under your navel, once a part of your body you disliked, but that opinion swiftly changed when your lover told you how much he loved it.

Sidon held your thick thighs apart and grinned. Your face flushed hot as you realized he must be looking at your completely-sodden panties. He looked up, meeting your eyes with his own heated, golden gaze. You could see his teeth glint in his smile as he trailed his tongue up the sensitive skin where your thigh met your pelvis and he let out a rough growl as his teeth caught on the fabric of your panties, snapping the thin material and making you gasp. He repeated the action just as slowly and sensually, leaving your panties tattered and your pussy exposed.

“Mm, I love seeing you like this,” he breathed, hot breath washing over your most sensitive part and making you whimper, “This is by far my favourite treat in the world…”

Your head rolled back in the pillows and you moaned as Sidon’s thick, slippery tongue slithered up your pussy, collecting your juices and bumping into your hard little clit. You reached down and held Sidon’s head, gentle on the sensitive fins even as your mind went numb from pleasure. You struggled not to use your thighs to hold him in place, and he must have felt them quaking. Sidon groaned into you and used his hands to grope your thighs, bringing them to lock around his head. He pulled off enough to whine, “Please, please, my love! I love feeling these juicy thighs around me,” he smiled, grazing his teeth over your inner thighs, “I want you to hold me down until you cum for me~”

You cried out, thighs holding Sidon in place as he went back to work, teasing your lips and clit, with his tongue, slurping so loudly it made your face flush in embarrassment. Your prince was loud, too, letting out loud groans as he ate you, his hips grinding into the mattress beneath you. You gasped as his tongue finally slithered inside you, teasing your gummy walls and reaching deep, deep inside. You writhed in the sheets, Sidon’s hands holding your thighs around his head and keeping you where he wanted you. Your hips started grinding down on his tongue, urging it further inside. His teeth grazed your clit and your eyes rolled back, crying out as orgasm rippled through your body. Sidon moaned with you, his tongue held taught, letting you ride it through your pleasure. Your body went limp and Sidon pulled away from you. As you came down from your high, you looked at him and saw him lick his lips lewdly.

“So very delicious~” he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and straightened up, kneeling on the bed. You could see both of his cocks already starting to protrude from their slit.

You panted and readjusted yourself amongst the pillows, opening your arms, “Come here, my Prince,” you called with a lusty smile, “I want seconds.”

Sidon smiled and crawled above you, “Oh, my sweet little droplet, I’ll give you anything you desire,” he held up your hips to align with his claspers, the long, tapered, tendril-like lengths stretching up to tease over your sopping-wet lips, “do you know what I’m going to do to you, darling?”

You bit your lip and shook your head, pretending not to know exactly what he was planning. (hint: it’s the same thing he did last night, and the night before, and the previous morning…)

Sidon groaned as his hands started groping your sides again, moving you to line up his cocks with your pussy, “I’m not only going to fuck you,” the word was spoken roughly and it made your heart skip a beat. He never swore unless he was with you~ “I’m going to stuff you. I’m going to stuff you so full with my seed that you’ll be dripping with it, so full that you’ll become addicted to the feeling of being a sweet little depository for my cum.” He panted harshly, his hips grinding his cocks against you, bumping your oversensitive little clit and making you whine at the feeling and his filthy words, “Do you want that, my droplet?”

You nodded, feeling like you were losing your mind, “Yes, please! Please, Sidon, fill me up!” you panted, rocking your hips down. You cried out as just the tips breached your well-lubricated pussy.

Sidon snarled and grinned, holding your hips above the bed with his superior strength, “Get ready, darling,” He groaned as he slowly eased both cocks inside you, letting you adjust when they were halfway in, “Oh, gods, my droplet, you’re so hot inside!” he cried out.

You cried out and panted, adjusting to the twin lengths inside you. You could feel them squirming around inside you, looking for a place to hold you open as you were bred. The thought alone made you feel hotter and you nodded, needing Sidon to fulfill his promise and stuff you full.

Sidon eased his hips forward, his cocks delving as deep as they could go before they spread. You screamed and gasped as a second orgasm rocked your body. You whined and urged Sidon to keep going. The prince let out ragged breaths, letting out a rough groan as he was fully inside you, and he started pumping his hips, cocks drawing in and out, in and out, his hips smacked into your own, and he looked down at you, vision hazy with lust, as he saw your thighs, stomach, and tits jiggle with each movement, “Fuck, my droplet, my… princess! Fuck!” His eyes dilated, the gold of his irises barely visible as he lost himself to the pleasure. The lingering taste of your juices, your blood, your dessert on his tongue, the scent of you, powerful in this room from the nights you spent sleeping in the sheets, the feeling of your soft body welcoming him in, your hot, wet, tight pussy embracing his cocks and begging him to breed you, to fill you, to stuff you. It was all too much.

Sidon roared and moved, holding your legs up to your shoulders, and you could see him grin as he easily maneuvered you into a mating press. He started slamming into you, cocks flexing and reaching deeper than his tongue could, sliding against your sweet spot and teasing your cervix with every rough thrust. He leaned over you and he pounded you, hot breaths ragged against your neck as he growled more filth into your pointed ear.

“You’re mine! This body, all of this gorgeous body is all mine!

“You're so lovely, my sweet droplet! I need you, I need you so badly, all the time! I want you like this every day!

“My darling, I’m going to fill you up, you'll come un-done! Around me, and, and, unggh, I’m going to- going to-!”

You grabbed Sidon’s head and smashed your lips together, not caring how his sharp teeth cut your lips, tongues warring as he came. You gasped into his mouth at the feeling of his thick and heavy cocks unloading into you, his thick seed pouring into your womb as his chest rumbled against your own thundering heartbeat. One of Sidon’s giant hands came down and started roughly rubbing your clit, sending you over the end for the third time that evening. You whined and shuddered against him, toes curling in the sheets.

“My beautiful princess, my sweet droplet…” Sidon panted and held your cheek, “I love you so much…”

You held his hand and kissed inside his palm, “Oh, my Prince, I love you too, with all my heart…” your vision was bleary, but you could see how tender the prince’s smile was for you. Only for you.

Sidon lowered your legs and you whimpered, startling him, “Oh! Dear, I was too rough on you, wasn't I?” He looked ashamed.

You reached out and pulled him back against your chest, “No, you were perfect~” you giggled and kissed him again, sweeter this time. Sidon sighed pleasantly and licked up the dried blood on your lips.

“Everyone is probably worried about us,” Sidon said with a half-smile, “But I don't quite want to leave yet.”

You hummed, “Oh? And why is that, my Prince?” You teased and flexed around his cocks, still inside you, getting hard again.

Sidon purred and ground his hips into yours, “I don't think you're quite full yet~”

[oliversrarebooks]

Have you considered what Oliver would be like as a vampire? I think he would be nice, with an aura like when you’re all cozy in bed and don’t have to get up, you can just enjoy the coziness. Treating any thrall he picked up with respect and intelligence, like a student and their favorite teacher.

Masterlist

September 1925 - In another universe...

TW: mind control, hypnotic induction

Pines Rare Books and Curiosities was probably Lex's greatest find since he'd arrived in the city.

It was a tiny shoebox of a store in a run-down district, but every single inch was packed with the most unusual and fascinating books. Not only did Mr. Pines stock hard to find imported books and gorgeous editions of classics, but many eclectic volumes of the kind Lex would never find in his university's library. Books on vampires and werewolves, on witchcraft and magic, on alchemy and sorcery and divination.

Lex was starting to suspect that the nervous-looking, unassuming proprietor might actually be a wizard.

"Good evening, sir," said Mr. Pines -- he always called Lex 'sir' when greeting him, even though Lex was barely twenty and Mr. Pines must be at least a decade older. "Is there anything in particular you're looking for?"

Lex felt a bit guilty about spending so much time in the shop and only occasionally buying anything, but Mr. Pines didn't seem to mind. If anything, he encouraged the company, offering books he thought Lex might enjoy and even allowing him to sit in one of the plush chairs behind the counter to read. Lex couldn't resist, drawn to the books and the comfortable chair and the always-roaring fireplace like a moth to the flame. It was such a peaceful retreat from the loud commotion of campus life.

There was a strange look in Mr. Pines' eye as he pulled something from behind the counter. It was a notebook bound in blue leather with no title on the front. "If you don't mind..." he said. "I've been working on writing some stories of my own. I'd like some opinions on them, and I know you have a discerning taste in literature."

"You want me to read your stories?" said Lex, surprised. "Well... I suppose I'd be happy to." Just because Mr. Pines was smart and well-spoken was no guarantee that his writing would actually be good, but Lex felt flattered that he'd asked, and it was the least he could do considering how often he used the bookshop as a sanctuary.

"Then please, have a seat," said Mr. Pines, gesturing to one of the plush chairs near the fire. "I do appreciate the help."

Lex took the notebook and settled himself down. The fire was warm as usual and smelled especially nice today. "What's that scent from the fire, Mr. Pines?"

"Oh, I added dried herbs tonight. The weather has been gloomy, so I thought some nice calming herbs would improve the mood."

Lex took a deep breath. It was so relaxing in the bookshop, as though he could simply let his cares melt away. The notebook had beautiful creamy paper that was satisfying to touch, and Mr. Pines had written out his story in neat script that was easy to read. Before long, Lex was starting to be engrossed in it.

The story followed a vampire, alone and starving in the city after his sire had died, fighting his urges to drink from humans even as he was haunted by the threat of starvation. While it was a straightforward plot, the way it was written was riveting, as though he was actually there, experiencing the feelings of the vampire. At one point, he vaguely wondered how much time had passed, but he couldn't even bring himself to look away from the book long enough to check his watch.

The vampire was giving into his urges, now. He'd lured a young man from a cafe and was ensorcelling him, binding him to the vampire's will. The book described in loving detail how the young man began to succumb slowly but surely to the vampire's hypnotic spell... his mind dulling and slowing, his eyelids growing oh-so-heavy, helplessly getting sleepier and sleepier as the vampire pulled him deeper under his power...

Lex yawned. The descriptions of the young man getting so drowsy were starting to make him feel drowsy, too. The smell of the calming herbs and the pleasant heat of the fire were also lulling him asleep. He'd been here a while, he thought. He should check the time. But he wanted to keep reading.

The young man's eyes began to flutter closed against his will as the vampire drew him so close. "It's too late for you to fight," said the vampire in the story. "You belong to me."

"Yes... master..." said the poor human victim, his mind struggling against the words, trying to fight off the sleepy haze and escape. But it was no use -- the vampire had him utterly at his mercy.

The human's eyes shut tight as he swooned in the vampire's arms, exposing his tender neck for the monster to drink, to feed, to replenish himself off of the victim's life-force...

Lex startled awake. It wasn't as though the book was boring -- on the contrary, it was fascinating -- but the quiet, peaceful shop and the subject matter had him half-asleep. He wanted to finish the story, but he wasn't quite sure where he'd left off. Maybe he should reread the entire part of the vampire enthralling the human, just to make sure he hadn't missed anything...

"What are you doing to me?" said the human in the story. "I feel so strange... so sleepy..."

"Oh, you poor helpless soul," said the vampire, stroking his cheek and directing the human's gaze into his eyes. "You will sleep. You will obey. You will not resist."

Lex swallowed. He didn't understand why he felt so drawn to the victim in the story, why he wanted to be in his place. Why he wanted to read the passage over again. Why it was so hard to think of anything else. Surely that was an insane thought -- no one of sound mind would want to be captured and fed on by some supernatural monster.

"You're getting so sleepy, so helpless, so vulnerable," said the vampire, on Lex's fifth or sixth reread of the passage. 

The words blurred before his eyes. He was... he was so sleepy...

"Shhh, Lex," said a gentle, kind voice at his ear, as a hand tousled his hair. "You're so sleepy, aren't you?"

"Mr... Mr. Pines..." said Lex, so groggy, like he was trying to rouse himself from a deep slumber. "I'm -- your book --"

"So quiet, Lex. You're so very quiet, aren't you? So still and silent while you read."

Quiet... still... silent... yes, that was it... he'd always cherished the quiet...

"Your mind is so quiet. So utterly still. Falling asleep with a good book by the fire."

"Mmmm," he said, with a sleepy smile on his face.

"Let me take this," said Mr. Pines, removing the book from Lex's hands. "You're going to fall asleep now, Lex. And your mind is going to go completely quiet."

Lex didn't even register that something was wrong, that maybe he should resist. He felt completely at ease, peaceful and warm and comforted. As his drowsy eyes fluttered closed, a wool blanket was being wrapped around him, cocooning and immobilizing him. He was being picked up with a strength that may have worried him if his mind weren't falling asleep.

He didn't want to ask where he was going. He wanted to be quiet.

"Sleep, Lex. Sleep deeply in the dark and the silence."

Lex felt as if he were being gently rocked to sleep as he was carried, the creak of stairs giving the only indication of where he was being taken. 

He was set back down again in a few minutes. "You're going to be completely still, Lex. Completely asleep. You won't make a sound. You're going to feel a little pain, but it won't wake you up. And then you're going to drift even deeper asleep."

Lex may have nodded his assent if he weren't so still.

The blanket was being moved, his shirt unbuttoned and moved aside. Something sharp grazed his neck, and then punctured. And then he was falling, falling so deep asleep, so deeply drowsy and still and silent --

He flickered very briefly back into consciousness as he was set onto a bed, before sleep dragged him under once more.

Masterlist Next

I was happy with how this AU scenario turned out! There will be a part two.

@d-cs @latenightcupsofcoffee @thecyrulik @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @wanderinggoblin @whumpyourdamnpears @only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are @pressedpenn @pigeonwhumps @amusedmuralist @xx-adam-xx @ivycloak @irregular-book @whumpsoda @mj-or-say10 @pokemaniacgemini @whumpshaped @whumpsday @morning-star-whump @shinyotachi @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @pirefyrelight @theauthorintraining-blog @whump-me-all-night-long @anonfromcanada @typewrittenfangs @tessellated-sunl1ght @cleverinsidejoke @abirbable @ichorousambrosia @a-formless-entity @annablogsposts @ghost-whump

[arainmorn-art]

Ooooooooooooooooooooooooh the cringe is strong here x') This is my very first Wrightworth artwork from the beginning of 2022. Oh man, I can't x) My struggles with their anime hair are so visible here. And how I didn't know what painting style I want to use. And how to altogether merge my strange artstyle with Ace Attorney's. Aaaaaaah okay, that was a first step to Facade and Deciphering comics XD

It was drawn right after 2-4 case, because YES, "unnecessary feelings" were not enough for me to actually ship these two. I understood the feelings as, I guess, the writer intended: Edgey's fear of changing, so romantic way of seeing them was a bit of a reach for me. And altogether I thought Ace Attorney was a very silly game without any drama, I've took it seriously only after von Karma's case. In 1-5 I've started to really like Edgeworth. Him helping Wright was just... just... uwu :3. And his final speech in 2-4, when he told how he trusts Phoenix, became a moment when it all clicked. And mind you, since 2012 to 2022 Wrightworth is the first malexmale couple I am seriously shipping, as in that decade it was girlxgirl only. And, heh, these guys helped me to accept that I am not a lesbian, but bi, but that's another story with deeper reasons x)

P.S. In 2-4 the moment when Edgeworth pressed Adrian was so powerful for me. It showed how ruthless and tough Edgeworth is, how he is a lot more of an antihero, than a regular hero - and also how he is merciless not only towards others, but also himself. P.S.S. Edgeworth's stupid hair here is killing me.

[mncxbe]

W.oi

𝑫𝒂𝒛𝒂𝒊 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

𝑮𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆: dazai feels nostalgic/ fluff?

since it's been requested, I wrote a little something for this♡

It's been a few months since you joined the Ada and until today Dazai has managed to keep you arm's length. Strangely enough, it was harder than he expected.

Despite the agonizing guilt you stirred up in him, the brunette found himself oddly drawn to you. Maybe it was your kind smile or the way you carried yourself, or maybe you just reminded him of Oda. Yes, everything about you was a painful reminder of his past, of what he'd done and yet, he allowed himself to get a little bit closer to you.

Oh, and how bitterly he regretted it. A friendly chat here, a mission together there, sharing a drink after work one night- they all led to that moment, to the day you finally discovered his secrets.

It was around 6 p.m and he was about to leave the office when you suddenly popped up behind him.

"Hi Dazai, got any plans tonight?" you asked with that sweet smile of yours that got his head spinning.

"Nothing in particular" he replied nonchalantly.

You beamed, sliding an arm under his "Great then, we're going out for a drink"

Before he got a chance to protest you marched out of the building, dragging him alongside you. Soon enough you made it to your destination, a cozy little underground pub with burnt red brick walls and yellowing rockstar posters, remnants of a decades-old era in Yokohama.

Taking a seat on one of the empty seats at the bar you ordered two glasses of whiskey on ice. The tension between you grew almost palpable with each minute that passed. As you focused your gaze on the amber liquid in the glass your colleague did his best to push the racing thoughts in the back of his mind.

"So..." you eventually spoke up, sliding your thumb over the brim of your glass "I wanted to talk to you about something"

Dipping your hand in the pocket of your coat you procured a folded picture. Dazai's heart dropped as he watched you unfold it, his stomach churning; it was the photo he'd taken at Lupin with Odasaku and Ango all those years ago.

For a few moments you both remained silent as he fumbled for words. "Look, I can explain" he began but you immediately cut him off.

"No, Dazai, you don't need to explain anything. You never mentioned knowing him so I assume you didn't wanna talk about it. I just wanna know one thing."

The man nodded weakly, averting his gaze; he couldn't bear facing you.

"You see, my brother never opened up to me about what he was doing at work. I knew he was involved with some... questionable people, but I've always thought he was a good person." You took a deep breath in and leaned closer, trying to get him to look at you. "I just wanna know what kind of person he really was."

Finally meeting your gaze, Dazai spoke in a weak voice "He was my closest friend, the kindest person I've ever known..." Once those words left his lips he couldn't stop talking; memories resurfaced, spilling from him like news on the radio. You listened carefully to his speech, punctuated only by occasional sighs and sips from his glass, and nodded.

He told you everything, from the day they met and how their friendship progressed, to the conflict with Mimic that led to his untimely death.

"He had this ideal, you know, never to kill anyone. He wanted to write a book at some point and thought that murderers had no right to talk or write about life, to create something beautiful with hands that bear the blood of other people." Raising the glass to his lips, Dazai downed the rest of his drink, the alcohol burning the back of his throat as he swallowed.

"I see... He does sound like a wonderful person" A faint smile tugged at your lips "Thanks for telling me everything"

"No problem. It was good to finally talk to someone about it. I would appreciate if you didn't mention this to the others tho"

You gave him a reassuring nod, holding your little finger out in front of him. "I won't, Dazai. Pinky promise. "

The brunette chuckled, locking his finger with yours as he held your gaze. "I'll trust you on that and please, call me Osamu from now on"

[unabashegirl]

Vicious 3 || Harry Styles x Mafia

Summary: Harry Styles, the cold and calculating son of a powerful mafia don, must consolidate power after his father's passing. He faces challenges from his unpredictable younger brother, Silas, and navigates a complex world of alliances, ruthless decisions, and family loyalty. Amidst the intrigue, the elegant and alluring Y/N Castellano, the daughter of an Italian mafia boss, attends the funeral and finds herself drawn to Harry. As power dynamics shift and the future remains uncertain, the story explores the dark and dangerous allure of the mafia, the weight of family legacies, and the potential for unexpected connections in a world defined by secrecy and ruthlessness.

masterlist

word count: 2.7K

The room buzzed with a low hum of whispered conversations as the weight of Arthur's will settled upon the gathered assembly. Harry, typically composed, found himself grappling with a surge of emotions that threatened to breach the surface. Outrage smoldered beneath his stoic exterior, fueled by the unexpected clause that dictated his marital fate.

"Enough!" Harry's voice sliced through the room, a thunderous command that silenced the discussions like a sudden clap of thunder. His eyes blazed with an intensity that mirrored the storm within him. "Everyone, leave. Except Mr. Reynolds."

The men, sensing the gravity of the situation, filed out of the room with a mixture of apprehension and curiosity. As the door closed behind them, leaving only Harry's most trusted friends and the family attorney, a charged silence hung in the air.

Harry paced the room, his frustration palpable. He turned to Mr. Reynolds, his jaw clenched. "Is there any way around this, any loophole we can exploit? There has to be something."

Mr. Reynolds, a seasoned attorney who had navigated the intricate legalities of the family for decades, met Harry's gaze with a mix of empathy and realism. "I've reviewed the will thoroughly, Harry. Your father's conditions are explicit. To inherit the leadership of the English Mafia, you must fulfill the marriage clause."

Harry ran a hand through his hair, his desperation bubbling to the surface. "There has to be another way. I can't just accept this. Why would he had wanted to force me into an arrange marriage? "

His closest men exchanged uneasy glances, aware of the weight of their boss's predicament. The air in the room grew heavy with the burden of tradition, obligation, and the tangled legacies that bound the family.

Mr. Reynolds spoke carefully, "I understand your frustration, Harry, but the legal avenues are limited. Your father's will is a binding document, and to contest it would invite unnecessary complications."

Harry, his frustration unabated, slammed his fist onto the desk. "I won’t marry. There has to be a way to negotiate”.

The room, bathed in the warm glow of dim lighting, served as an impromptu council chamber. Lex and Charlie, flanking Harry's side, exchanged glances laden with a shared history of camaraderie. The atmosphere was charged with an air of urgency as Harry, seated behind the mahogany desk, contemplated the weight of his father's will.

Alexander Turner or Lex, an imposing figure with an aura of controlled intensity, stood tall beside Harry. His sharp features and piercing green eyes bore witness to the challenges he had weathered over the years in the service of the Styles’ family. Born into a legacy of organized crime, Lex's loyalty was forged through shared experiences and a sense of duty that transcended familial ties.

On the other side of the desk, Charlie exuded a quiet confidence befitting his role as the financial mind of the English Mafia. Dressed in a meticulously tailored suit, he carried an air of sophistication that belied the shrewd calculations beneath the surface.

All three were young, but they were the new generations of the family. Alexander and Charles fathers had served Arthur until their last day. They had diligently trained their sons just like Arthur had shaped Harry into the man that he was.

The door closed behind Mr. Reynolds, leaving the trio alone in the room. Lex broke the tense silence, his voice a low rumble. "Harry, negotiating with Federico Castellano is a dangerous game. The man is not known for compromise, especially when it comes to matters of family and honor.”

Charlie, his gaze fixed on Harry, added, "And marrying Y/N Castellano might be the most pragmatic solution. It not only secures the alliance but also ensures a smoother transition of power. Your father knew the importance of alliances in our world.”

Harry, frustrated and conflicted, leaned back in his father's chair. "I won't be forced into a marriage, especially one that feels like a strategic move. I need a way out of this without sacrificing my autonomy."

Lex, his loyalty unwavering, stepped forward. "Harry, sometimes sacrifice is necessary. This whole shit thrives on alliances, and Castellano is not someone you want as an adversary."

Charlie nodded in agreement. "Your father foresaw the challenges ahead. Perhaps this marriage is a way to strengthen the bonds that hold the English Mafia together. It's about survival, Harry. The last thing you want is the Italian’s bagging on your door within the first month as the boss”.

Lex began, his eyes locking with Harry's. "Marrying Y/N doesn't mean you have to let it affect your personal life. You can keep that separate. It's just a strategic alliance on paper.”

Harry regarded Lex with a furrowed brow, unsure of the path his closest friend was suggesting.

Lex continued, "Think about it, Harry. Marrying Y/N is a small price to pay for securing the future of the English Mafia. It doesn't mean you have to care for her or be faithful. It's just a marriage on paper, a symbol of unity."

Charlie, though quieter by nature, nodded in agreement. "He's right, Harry. It's about securing your positions and ensuring stability”.

Harry, caught between the legacy he inherited and the desire for autonomy, rubbed his temples. "It's not that simple. Marrying on paper might be one thing, but it's not just about appearances. It's about what that marriage represents, the expectations it carries."

Lex placed a firm hand on Harry's shoulder. “We're suggesting you play the game strategically, like your father did."

Harry, grappling with conflicting emotions, took a deep breath. Sacrifices had to be made.

The grandeur of the manor loomed ahead, its imposing facade a testament to the legacy of power that resided within its walls. The air was thick with anticipation as Y/N Castellano, accompanied by her father, Federico Castellano, approached the entrance. It had been five days since Arthur’s funeral. Harry had taken five days to digest the news before calling the Italians.

Y/N, a vision of sophistication and poise, carried herself with an air of quiet strength. Her hair cascaded in elegant waves around her shoulders, framing a face adorned with striking features. Her eyes, a deep shade, held a gaze that betrayed both intelligence and resilience. Dressed in a tasteful ensemble that accentuated her grace, she exuded a timeless beauty that mirrored the allure of the English aristocracy.

Federico, a seasoned figure in the world of organized crime, stood by his daughter's side with an air of stoicism. His graying hair and sharp features spoke of years spent navigating the intricate web of alliances and conflicts. The Castellano patriarch, clad in a tailored suit, bore the weight of responsibility with a demeanor that mirrored the unyielding nature of the Italian Mafia.

"Y/N," Federico's voice cut through the silence, cold and devoid of warmth. "This union is not a matter to be taken lightly. You will behave precisely as I expect, and failure is not an option."

Y/N, her eyes meeting her father's, felt a chill in the air as he continued, "You are a Castellano, and our reputation is paramount. If you fuck that reputation in any way, I will ensure the consequences are severe."

Federico's gaze bore into hers with an intensity that made her shudder. "Do you comprehend the gravity of this, Y/N? The Styles may seem like allies, but make no mistake, they will exploit any weakness."

He took a step closer, his tone lowering to a threatening whisper. "Should you embarrass the Castellano name, I won't hesitate to make an example of you. There are ways to deal with those who fail to uphold the family honor."

Y/N, her composure wavering under the weight of her father's words, managed a nod. Federico, unsatisfied with the gesture, continued with a more sinister edge to his voice, "I have spent a lifetime building our family's power. I will not tolerate your incompetence jeopardizing everything we've achieved."

He leaned in, his breath chilling against Y/N's ear as he uttered words that sent a shiver down her spine. "Remember, blood ties can be severed. Fail me, and you'll find out just how disposable family can be."

“Yes father” She simply responded, too scared to object.

As they were escorted into the manor, Harry awaited in a room adorned with opulent furnishings and subdued lighting. The air, charged with a delicate tension, carried the weight of unspoken expectations.

"Y/N, Mr. Castellano, welcome," Harry greeted with a nod, gesturing for them to take a seat.

Y/N's eyes flickered with a blend of curiosity and reserve as she took in the surroundings. Her father, a man of few words, inclined his head in acknowledgment.

"Thank you for having us, Styles," Federico replied, his voice carrying the authority of a seasoned leader.

Seated across from each other, the conversation turned to the logistics of the impending union. The delicate dance of negotiations unfolded, each party navigating the intricacies of a strategic alliance.

“I think it’s best to get this wedding out of the way. Don’t you think, Styles?” Federico asked as he reached out for the whiskey that he had been served. “I am sure that you want to claim your rightful place as the new boss”.

Harry found himself caught in a web of conflicting desires. On one hand, the prospect of the approaching wedding loomed, a duty to fulfill for the sake of family alliances. Yet, the allure of remaining single a bit longer tugged at him, whispering promises of freedom and unbridled pursuits.

There were things on his agenda, a few weeks of bachelorhood he wished to savor, experiences he yearned to indulge in before the weight of matrimony settled upon him. Harry knew well that once he tied the knot with Y/N, the whispers within the family would be relentless. The constraints of a committed relationship, especially with a woman like Y/N, hinted at the end of his carefree liaisons.

Observing her since her arrival, Harry noted a certain submissive demeanor in Y/N. Whenever her father intervened, her voice would fall silent, a quiet agreement to authority. In some strange way, Harry found himself drawn to this quality. The idea of having a partner who willingly yielded to his control aligned with his inclination for dominance.

"In a month," Harry finally responded, his eyes briefly glancing down at his watch. "It would give everyone enough time to prepare."

"I agree," Federico replied tersely, "If you'll excuse me, I need to use the restroom."

As Federico left the room, Y/N felt a weight lift from her shoulders. Her father's threats lingered in the air, but for the moment, she could breathe a bit more freely. She was acutely aware of his penchant for action, and the gravity of his warnings weighed heavily on her.

"I'm sorry about all of this," Y/N finally spoke, breaking the silence. "I'm sure the last thing you want is to get married to a complete stranger."

"Don't," Harry raised his hand, cutting her off before she could say anything more. "Let's get this straight from the beginning. We aren't friends, and we will never be. Let alone have any kind of relationship.”

Y/N, though taken aback, maintained a composed exterior. Although after she had processed the words that had just come out of his mouth, she was ready to speak.

“Wow! You really are what they say.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. "And what is that?"

"A selfless asshole with no heart."

“Precisely” Harry's gaze hardened as he delivered a cold response, his tone devoid of emotion. “The only connection I'm open to having with you is purely for pleasure.”

"Pleasure?" Y/N giggled, a condescending smile playing on her lips. "You are more pathetic than I thought if you believe that I would just jump in bed with you.”

Harry was surprised. She wasn't as submissive as he had assumed; her demeanor was simply a façade, a reflection of her fear of her father. A flicker of intrigue crossed his eyes — a challenge that piqued his interest. It wasn't merely about breaking her; it was about unraveling the layers that shielded her true nature.

"Everyone breaks. It's just a matter of time, pet," he said confidently, a sinister edge to his words. "Once we are married, you are all mine, and I'll be able to do whatever I want with you." His voice carried a dark certainty, a proclamation of dominance that echoed in the tense space between them.

Federico eventually returned, and Y/N fell into a silent watchfulness. Her eyes, however, never left Harry's, a determination burning within them. She was resolute in her commitment to prove him wrong. Despite her willingness to be friends and genuinely get to know him, Harry's overwhelming ego had created an impenetrable barrier, leaving her disappointed.

Y/N had approached this arrangement with hope and openness, praying that her husband would be different from her father, that she could finally break free from the suffocating constraints of her family's expectations. She had wished for a chance at freedom, a life unburdened by the shadows of her past. However, Harry's demeanor shattered those hopes, leaving her grappling with the harsh reality of her circumstances. The prospect of marriage now loomed as a prison rather than a pathway to the liberation she had yearned for.

The sudden intrusion of the door swinging open shattered the fragile peace. A figure, disheveled and agitated, burst into the room, his eyes wide with urgency. The men gathered around the desk turned their attention to the unexpected visitor.

"Harry," the man stammered, breathless from the urgency of his news.

Harry's brows furrowed as he rose from his chair. "What's going on?"

The man took a moment to catch his breath and approached him before delivering the unsettling revelation in a hushed tone. "Someone's took your father’s body out of the grave. We caught the bastard before he could do anything to the body, and he's in the back room. You need to see this."

“I must take care of this” Harry, his jaw tight with restrained anger, nodded sharply. "Take me to him." Harry wasn’t going to apologize to the family. He had priorities and discussing where is wedding was going to take place wasn't one of them. Harry left Federico and Y/N to fend for themselves.

The group hurried through the corridors of the manor, the sense of foreboding growing with each step. The back room, usually reserved for private meetings, now harbored an unexpected intruder.

As they reached the room, the door swung open to reveal a figure, bound and battered. The man, with fear in his eyes, glanced up as Harry entered.

"What the hell is this?" Harry demanded, his voice a low growl.

The informant stepped forward, explaining, "We found him defacing the grave. Seems he's got some personal grudge against your father."

Harry's gaze bore into the intruder. "Who are you, and who sent you?”

The man, battered and broken, spat out a defiant response. "Fuck off”.

Harry smiled, savoring the reaction he had just elicited from the man. The flicker of fear in his eyes only fueled Harry's determination, validating his next course of action. In his mind, the man's response justified what he was about to do next. He wasn't merely seeking compliance; he intended to break him, to reduce him to a point where he would beg for the mercy of a swift end.

"Take him to the dungeon," Harry commanded, the words carrying an air of cold authority. The ominous directive hung in the air, a prelude to the torment that awaited the unfortunate man. As the guards moved forward to carry out the order, Harry's smile widened, fueled by the anticipation of the power he held over those who dared to challenge him.

click here to read chapter 4

[nakachuchu]

Blue | Gojo Satoru

SYNOPSIS: A banished Kamo member who became a single mom was just what Gojo needed in his life.

WORDS: 1.1k

WRITTEN: 07/15/2023

WARNING: alludes to SA/R@PE (not from gojo dw)

NOTE: Thank you for requesting! This was the first request in months that I wanted to write. I've been in a gojo mood

You were a Kamo clan sorcerer and a single mother, facing disapproval and isolation from your own clan due to your situation.

Though you carried the weight of their judgment, you remained determined to protect and provide for your child, shutting off any distractions that might divert your focus.

You were a semi-strict mother, as you wanted the best for your child. You blamed part of your rigid nature on your upbringing in the Kamo clan.

In the midst of this, Gojo Satoru, the enigmatic and powerful teacher from Jujutsu High, caught wind of your existence.

Intrigued by your strength and resilience, he found himself drawn to you. Gojo was used to captivating others effortlessly. But to his surprise, you remained unyielding, refusing to give him the time of day.

You hated how flamboyant he was, and the mere mention of him had a vein on your forehead bulging.

However, your son was a different story. He was utterly enamored with Gojo—mesmerized by his cool demeanor, incredible techniques, and the way he effortlessly wielded his cursed powers.

You never taught your son of Gojo's existence, so you were sure he caught wind of it through his evolving technique — 'Hear ye, hear ye,' the technique to be able to hear anything that is happening from anywhere.

Your son's admiration for Gojo was undeniable. As Gojo continued to pursue you, he began to understand the depth of your determination and the walls you had built around yourself.

Gojo's pursuit of your affection became an intriguing dance, his attempts to impress you met with your resolute indifference. But deep down, he couldn't help but admire your fierce independence and the unwavering love you showed for your son.

Though you resisted his advances, Gojo remained undeterred. He knew that breaking through your barriers would require patience, understanding, and proving himself to be more than just a charismatic and powerful sorcerer.

"Go away."

Gojo pouted, tucking out his shiny lip-gloss-coated lips at you. "Y/N," he cried.

You rolled your eyes. "I've things to do."

"I can do them with you."

"Please don't."

"Why not, Mama?" your son questioned, eyes twinkling in the same way Gojo's eyes were.

Just from the way they both looked at you, you would have thought Gojo was the father of your child.

Your shoulders sagged as you let out a loud sigh. "Fine."

One thing about being banished from the Kamo clan was you weren't under their protection and they were constantly finding ways to wipe you off from their family roster.

A disappointment was not needed in a clan where men ruled. To them, you had fooled around too much and gotten pregnant in the process.

No matter what you told them, they would not listen to you. Zen'in Naoya was someone they would not mess with and pointing fingers at him would harm their clan.

'But, I'm telling the truth!' you had shouted.

Your face stung from your mother's slap. Your ear was perfectly turned toward her now for her to yell at you.

'You think we would believe that Zen'in Naoya would lay a hand on you? You're not that special.'

You left with the clothes on your skin that night. You had been alone for months, giving birth to your son alone in a shabby apartment. You named your son Ao — 'Blue.'

His eyes were as blue as the sky you yearned to fly away to. He was the only one keeping you grounded.

At the sound of a banned Kamo member birthing her son alone, Gojo Satoru became interested in you. That was nearly a decade ago.

Ao's eyes ceased twinkling. He turned around in the direction of a line of trees.

"Mama."

You hummed, snapping open your fan. A slash of blood flew through the air, tearing off branches and leaves in the direction Ao was looking.

A difficult thing about trying to assassinate you was that you were not weak and neither was Ao. As much as he hated his father, he knew the combination of you and Zen'in blood contributed to his technique.

"You'd think they'd wait until you left, Gojo," you commented, amused.

He shrugged. "I guess they promised a big pay."

"You'd think they'd stop after a decade," you said. "Gojo, I trust you can take care of them? Ao and I have errands."

"Hey, what about me?" Gojo questioned.

You already turned to leave with Ao next to you. You looked over your shoulder and offered him a soft, cruel smile.

"Hurry up then."

Gojo grinned, and before you could even blink, he had already disappeared into the line of trees.

���Mama, why don't you just tell him you like him?” Ao asked.

“I think he knows,” you said.

“But what if he doesn't?”

“You should know, Ao. Gojo Satoru knows everything.”

Ao grinned. “You're right! I forgot.”

You chuckled. “How could you forget? You've idolized him ever since he came into our lives.”

Ao shrugged. “He's just always around us.”

Your son was right. Gojo Satoru was an extremely important figure in the Jujutsu world, but he chose to spend his time around a banished Kamo member who cried wolf and her illegitimate son.

Gojo was blessing you and your son with his presence unintentionally, but a blessing was a blessing nonetheless.

The first time Ao saw Gojo was when he was two. He was too young to know anything, but that sealed his fate. Gojo Satoru would be bonded to him.

The first time Ao spoke to Gojo was when he was six. He called out to the man whose thoughts he couldn't hear. Gojo was the only person in the entire world that Ao couldn't hear.

Drawn to the man who was a god in every way, all your lives were interwoven. There was no escaping your threaded destiny to Gojo Satoru. From one distinguished clan to another.

“I'm back!” Gojo exclaimed as he appeared next to Ao, putting your son in between you.

“So slow,” you said.

“Hey, that was fast,” Gojo retorted.

“I expect more from you, Gojo,” you said. “Right, Ao?”

“Right,” he said.

“So mean,” Gojo muttered.

“You're slowing down with age, Gojo. Though I suppose I can't tell gray from white,” you said, amused.

“Are you saying I have gray hairs?”

The man’s hands immediately went to his soft hair, patting every inch of it.

“I'm not saying you don't.”

Ao looked between you and Gojo as you two bickered. He smiled and squeezed both hands. You and Gojo stopped bickering and looked down at him.

At your quizzical stare, Ao shook his head and smiled. At Gojo’s bright laugh, your stare became even more confused.

The two boys who knew everything would keep their thoughts to each other: you were in love with Gojo Satoru.

[bloodyshadow1]

I'm really in a storm x wolverine mood. I don't normally care for m/f ships (because lets be real neither of them are straight) but I've loved the two of them together since I was a kid and first watched the animated eps One Man's Worth. It was just so refreshing to see from the played out love triangle that haunted the series and would never stop.

Storm and Wolverine were two people in love in the end of the world, and they were sweet with each other. I like them as friends, but they have one of the best relationships, platonic or romantic, in the history of X-men imo. I think what makes them work better than most is they're kind of the perfect version of friends to lovers, though they start out kind of antagonistic to each other.

But truthfully, I think that makes them work best is that they see each other completely for who they are. To Logan, she's not just storm the superhero, the goddess, or the most beautiful woman in the world. She all that and more because to him, she is Ororo. To Ororo it's the same thing, he's not just wolverine the edgy hero, the savage beast in man's skin, the heartbroken immortal. To her, he's also everything and more in Logan (or James depending on when, but I think to Ororo he is Logan).

They're a great contrast, that works to compliment each other in ways most x-men couples don't. It's not just about the big epic moments in their relationship. It's him jumping in front of her as a shield, be her side as a companion and partner, or behind her following her charge. It's about how gentle and kind she is to Laura, who is his daughter when no one else is. It's that he could be the angriest he's ever been and she could get him to stop with a word, that she's not afraid to stand in front of him with his claws drawn. It's when she is freaking out and letting her powers run wild, it's him tanking wind and lightning if it means being able to comfort her. It's him being willing to kill anyone that hurts her, that threatens her, that's rude to her, that makes her cry, but stopping short, both because he knows she wouldn't want that and also because he knows she can take care of her self and get her own justice. It's her never leaving him alone to wallow in his sorry when they lose someone, even when he tells her and everyone else to leave. It's the two of them having a slow gentle night together drinking and remembering.

Again I don't normally gush about m/f couples but I really love the two of them. And I hate that Marvel will never let the two of them be happy together, at least not for long. It genuinely bothers me how they'd be perfect for each other, but never get a chance to, while the same boring love triangle is still something after decades. I will ship these two in every form of x-men media no matter what marvel says because I'd rather have a few sweet moments with them being friends than most of their canon relationships. (not Romy, Rogue and Remy are also precious to me)

[television-overload]

neither snow nor rain

(a short little X-Files fanfic)

Almost posted a headcanon that came to me this morning, then realized it worked better as a fic. So here it is:

Read on AO3

"What's this?"

"What?" Georgie asks, looking up at her friend.

"In the mail, check it out."

Quinn tosses a stack of glossy paper through the air, nearly knocking the gadget she's building off her worktable. It lands in a heap on top of her carefully organized wiring, and she shoots him an unappreciative look, to which he responds with a shrug.

"I thought that was out of publication," he says, nodding at the item he had so carelessly thrown.

She furrows her brows, adjusting her glasses before lifting it for examination.

As she scans over the words, her eyes widen, and she looks back at Quinn, now understanding his surprise at finding this in their mailbox.

"It's been years!" she says, flipping open the front cover of the magazine eagerly. It looks a little different, but the title on the front is unmistakable.

Quinn circles the table to look at it over her shoulder, obviously intrigued that this defunct publication had resurfaced out of nowhere.

"Wait," he says, reaching over her shoulder to turn back to the front cover. "That's different, right?"

His finger points to the title, and she squints at it, trying to picture the old magazines they'd stopped receiving about four or five years ago.

He's right to be suspicious. They don't give out their mailing address to just anybody, but this magazine had been pivotal in shaping their view of the world.

In fact, it was sort of how they met and became friends, probably more than a decade ago, at this point. It's not like it was a popular publication, like Time or People or National Geographic. When you see someone out and about with the same fringe interests as you, you can't help but gravitate toward them.

"The Lone Gunman," she reads aloud. "Wait, yeah, I think you're right. Wasn't it the Lone Gunmen?"

He nods.

"I wonder what happened. Maybe They got to them."

Georgie rolls her eyes. "Or they could have just parted ways. It has been almost five years, you know. Not everything has to be so dramatic."

"The editors of a conspiracy magazine?" he says, a disbelieving look in his eye.

"You never know," Georgie says. She'd always been the more rational one between the two of them. But, he has a point.

She opens to the front page again, and notes a number of differences between this and the old design from the late 90s.

The table of contents is there, just like it had always been. But instead of having a number of contributors listed (aliases, of course), each article appears to have been written by the same author.

F. M. Luder.

Well, hey, that's a name they recognize.

So, this is legit, after all.

The page is pretty sparse, other than that, but her eyes are drawn to a note at the bottom of the page, small and unassuming.

For the Gunmen. Miss you, guys.

Signed, your friend

"Man," Quinn says, letting out a breath. "See? What did I tell you?"

She's still not sure she's completely convinced, but she nods anyway, leafing through the remaining pages of the magazine.

"I wonder if I could send in that article I've been writing on the military use of extraterrestrial technology," Georgie says thoughtfully. "You think they still have that P.O. box for submissions?"

"Can't hurt to try," he shrugs.

She smiles, enjoying the feel of the freshly printed magazine in her hands.

"Now I just need to think of a good pen-name."

-.-.-

The house is still sparse, all scratched wood floors and peeling wallpaper behind its creaky doors. But it's beginning to feel like home, he thinks. Stacks of magazines line the walls where furniture should probably be, but they'll get around to that eventually.

For now, he's just enjoying not having to pack up and move every few days while constantly looking over his shoulder.

There's a small desk and a computer in the study, but that's about it. It's enough to keep him occupied while Scully is away. The place feels too empty when she's gone, but he knows it's a good thing. She needs to be around people, and now with her new job at the hospital, they've got a reliable source of income to work with, too.

His work is... more of a hobby, but he thinks it could bring in a little extra cash if people even bother with magazines anymore. A lot has changed since he was last an active member of civilization, so he really doesn't know.

The sound of gravel crunching on the driveway breaks the heavy silence that he's grown used to, and he decides to call it a day. The front room seems to light up with warm sunlight when she walks in, balancing a bag of groceries on her hip and a stack of papers in her hand. Her juggling act makes it difficult to pull the keys out of the front door lock, but she manages.

"Hi, Mulder," she says cheerily. She flicks on a lamp as she passes, and he watches her with the characteristic look of awe on his face that he always has when he's around her.

"I missed you," he says truthfully, entering her space to grab the groceries from her. He presses a kiss to her lips while he's at it, never one to pass up the opportunity.

Her free hand lands on his chest, its weight a familiar comfort to him, but he can feel the prickly edges of whatever else she's carrying against his stomach.

"What'cha got there?" he asks, glancing down at the papers. Envelopes, he realizes.

A playful smirk tugs at her lips, and she pulls away from him. Brandishing the envelopes in front of him like an offering, she watches intently for his reaction.

"It seems you have fan mail, Mr. Luder," she says, pride beaming from her face despite the raised eyebrow she levels on him.

His eyes widen, and he looks down again in surprise at the substantial stack of letters she carries.

"Really?" he asks, his voice cracking a little against his wishes.

She nods, and he thinks he detects a hint of tears gathering in her eyes, too.

"I stopped by the old P.O. box on my way home," she says. "I had a hunch."

"You?" he says teasingly, unable to restrain himself.

"I only opened one, but it seems your readers are thrilled to have you back, and they send their best wishes."

He chokes back an unexpected knot of emotion and feels a breathy laugh escape him.

"I can't believe it," he says, overwhelmed by the response to his attempt to keep his friends' memory alive.

She must find his disbelief amusing, because he recognizes her smile as one he's seen more times than he can count. "You're surprised?" she asks.

"Well... yeah." To put it mildly.

Scully shakes her head and sets her bag down on the threadbare couch, and he follows.

"I've read your case reports, Mulder. I think—and Skinner would probably agree with me here—you've found your calling."

He stands in stunned silence, for the first time in a while feeling that spark of passion reignite in his chest.

"Now if only we could get them to send me money," he jokes.

Scully tilts her head, flipping through the stack of letters to find the one she'd opened.

"They have," she says casually, as she withdraws a hundred dollar bill with all the air of a magician performing a trick.

His eyes widen comically again.

"You think there's more?" he asks, grabbing a few envelopes from her hands.

"Some of these are pretty thick, Mulder," she says, a knowing glint in her eye.

The tension in his shoulders evaporates, and he tosses the letters aside to pull her into his embrace. Any worry that he'd have nothing to do, no way to contribute to this life that he's all but trapped her in, goes away in an instant. Relief overtakes him, and Scully holds him tight around the middle, smiling proudly over his shoulder.

"They'd be so happy that you're continuing their work," she says, her voice unable to muster anything more than a whisper.

Words fail him, so he presses a kiss to her forehead instead, his arms wrapped tightly around her shoulders.

"I hope so," he says, glancing heavanward as if he might see the three of them flying around like little cherubs on his water-stained ceiling.

"I hope so."

-.-.-

Mr. Luder,

I'm terribly sorry for your loss. My friend and I are longtime subscribers of The Lone Gunmen, and we feared the worst when they stopped publishing years ago.

Receiving the copy you sent in the mail was a wonderful surprise. I'm sure we will be writing again soon to pick your brain on some of the details in your articles (is there really confirmation of a flukeworm-human hybrid in New Jersey?).

I didn't see a form to renew our subscription, but if you include it in your next edition (I do hope you'll continue!), we will happily send along payment with it, as securely as possible.

I hope this letter reaches you. Thank you for carrying on with this important work. We (your subscribers) truly appreciate it!

Sincerely,

Queen George (and Sir Quincy)

(P.S. I've attached a draft of an article I've been working on. You're welcome to include it in a future publication, if it meets your standards of approval. I'd happily welcome feedback, as well! If I recall, you're the expert on this particular subject.)

-.-.-

Tag list ♡: @today-in-fic @ao3feed-msr @agent-troi @baronessblixen @captainsolocide @cutemothman @deathsbestgirl @edierone @enigmaticxbee @figureofdismay @frogsmulder @hippocampouts @invidiosa @randomfoggytiger @skelavender @slippinmickeys @teenie-xf @whovianderson

[fractualized]

Three Jokers Are Not Better Than One

(or, cheap twists don't make a good story)

Would you look at that? It's time to bitch about Three Jokers!

(spoilers for a 3-year-old comic ahead)

Gotham War got me into hater mode, so I figured it was time to take a second look at Three Jokers, written by Geoff Johns and drawn by Jason Fabok. I first read it when the issues came out, and I thought it was possible that the story isn't as bad as I remembered. I don't know why, since for the past three years I've been haunted by the possibility of it being deemed canon.

Of course, at the time of conception, Three Jokers was intended to be canon. Johns set up the premise in the Darkseid War storyline of the 2011 Justice League run, in issues published in 2015/2016. Batman takes control of the omniscient Mobius Chair, and he tests it by asking who killed his parents. Then he asks a second question, which Hal Jordan presses him on several issues later.

[Justice League (2011) #42 & Justice League (2011) #50]

Four years later, when Three Jokers was set to be released towards the end of 2020, Johns did at first confirm it would be canon despite being released via Black Label, where books are not meant to be part of the larger continuity. In later interviews, however, this assertion got walked back in favor of saying the canonicity is up to each reader, which is kind of a wild thing to say. "Look, this story merely proposes that one of our most popular characters has actually been three different dudes the whole time, which totally has a negligible impact on how that character should be seen and has interacted with the world. Take it or leave it!"

But then, DC's idea of canon has been pretty squiggly of late, especially with the increasing multiverse shenanigans. In the final issue of Dark Knights: Death Metal in 2021, the reader is told, "with our past finally set, myriad new futures are opening up. And as hypertime heals, we'll likely experience flashes of them– and even alternate pasts– in pretty epic fashion." Infinite Frontier followed, with a press release declaring, "When our heroes saved the Multiverse from Perpetua in Dark Nights: Death Metal, everything was put back where it belonged… and we do mean everything. All the damage from all the Crises was undone [....]"

I have a lot of thoughts about this, revolving around what the heck does it mean for storytelling and how we should understand characters that apparently, somehow, everything is canon? How are we supposed to take this as anything other than the omniverse being an excuse for DC Editorial to wave off responsibility for a legible timeline? "Batman can be in two places at once because, uh, the Monitor sneezed?"

But this too-long essay is about Three Jokers, so I'll narrow my concern: if character histories can simply change with a multiversal glitch, in whatever overwrought way those are usually explained to us, then it sure feels like it doesn't matter that Three Jokers was published under Black Label. It sure seems like, at whoever's whim, Three Jokers can still get locked into the main storyline. I mean, Zdarsky still hasn't explained what that three Jokers shit in Batman #135 is about. On the other hand, we know that the explanation for the two Jokers in The Man Who Stopped Laughing does not involve the multiverse, and Joker is supposed to reunite with Batman over in Zdarsky's story when that story closes out, so… I actually have no reason to be confident that means anything.

"But why would Three Jokers getting canonized be so bad?" you may ask if you've never read Three Jokers (or if you fully enjoyed it).

Speaking for myself, it starts with the premise: taking a character and saying, "actually, this is not one complex guy but three different guys, which fractures the character's motivations and relationships over the last several decades." When that character is one you enjoy very much, this twist is not fun. It's a fundamental change to who they are.

Then five months before the release of Three Jokers #1, Johns and Fabok did an interview with Entertainment Weekly. Some things the pair said raised red flags:

1) Three Jokers' story would focus on the trauma that Barbara, Jason, and Bruce suffered at Joker's hands, per Johns. "If you suffer some trauma, you don’t just get over with it and move on with your life, it changes who you are. Sometimes it changes you for the better, sometimes it changes you for the worse. You can heal right, and you can heal wrong. That’s really what the book’s about: Healing right, healing wrong, and surviving."

2) Johns also said of the story: “It goes back to the beginning when Batman first encountered the Joker, but it’s also The Killing Joke and A Death in the Family that speak to the book and that we’re building off emotionally." And Fabok mentioned that the book's look would be based on the aesthetics of The Killing Joke: "I really want it to feel like it could be a spiritual sequel, at least artistically."

These remarks foreshadowed a disconnect. A key part of The Killing Joke itself is that both Joker and Bruce experienced terrible trauma ("one bad day"), but in responding to it, they made different choices: broadly, Joker choosing to hurt people versus Bruce choosing to help people. Johns excluding Joker from his comments about trauma felt like a sign that he ignored a key part of the character, despite Joker being a core part of a new tale "emotionally" inspired by TKJ.

(We're setting aside "you can heal right and you can heal wrong" for now. Ohhh, we'll get back to that.)

Johns' blind spot was confirmed a few months later when he was quoted by the DC Nation Twitter account: "There are very few characters that are, to me, as irredeemable as The Joker. There is nothing in him that is good."

Wow, what close analysis from Mr. Emotional Build.

Look, I don't need Joker to be redeemed or woobified. (Ask me about the "Pushback" storyline from 2004 and hear my gnashing teeth crack a filling.) But I would like the full breadth of his character acknowledged, especially when you're claiming you're writing about trauma, especially when you're creating a "spiritual sequel" to one of best known Joker stories (if not the best known one).

Then Three Jokers finally came out, and over three months it proved to be neither an examination of healing nor very interesting, at least not in an enjoyable way. What it has to "say" about trauma, for any of the characters, is no different than the limited conclusion made in previous Batman books: mainly the drumbeat of fighting off the darkness by being a bigger person— or at least not killing your enemy. Making Joker into a role played by three different people adds nothing; it amounts to little more than a gimmick.

Hell, even as a gimmick, it's flawed. Theoretically, the three Jokers represent phases of personality the Joker has embodied over the years— but the representations we get don't make sense. Here they are summed up in Book 3:

Sorry, what? The Criminal is less interested in theatrics? In what time period was the Joker ever not interested in making a big show of things in one way or another? Maybe this is supposed to be an "early" Joker in terms of the Rebirth/InfiniCrisisDarkCarnateTier/whatever more recent conception of him, but I'll wager that's not what people think about when they think of Joker at his start. They think about Golden Age Joker doing goofy shit and laughing maniacally. They're not expecting this morose man.

The other thing is that, in Book 1, the narrative "assigns" each of our three protagonists to a Joker: Bruce to the Criminal, who appeared at the start; Barbara to the Comedian, who shot her; and Jason to the Clown, who killed him. Now at first I thought Johns was saying one Joker took over after another, but since Barbara's attack and Jason's death happened 9 months apart in 1988, which are not different Joker eras, I think we're supposed to see them as sort of… cycling on and off depending on the needs of the scheme? Maybe? But the descriptions above are still confusing. Why am I supposed to see the Joker who got carried away with the fun of beating Jason with a crowbar and successfully blew him up as less sadistic than the other one?

Johns does appear to lampshade this confusion in the middle of Book 1, when we get all three Jokers in a cabin in the woods. The Clown and the Comedian have this exchange:

This and a later panel with the Comedian actually imply that he and the Clown are interchangeable, even though they're supposed to be different. So are they or not? Is there an actual reason we need three Jokers, or did Johns just think it was a neato idea and then spend four years trying to figure out a "layered" justification for it?

The other thing about this cabin scene, and about the Joker trio largely, is that it should be fun and it's not. There should be chaos! Zaniness! At the very least, all the narcissism in the room should generate a competitive friction, make their interactions more dynamic. (Really it should generate bloodshed and end with one man standing within like ten minutes, but I'll grant the choice to save that for Book 3.) Instead it's almost mundane. The cabin isn't even decorated! It's dark and dreary, like the Jokers are dark and dreary. If we're gonna have three Jokers, can't they at least be Jokering with each other?

The same thought comes when I consider the very beginning of Book 1. It all starts out like a typical Batman story: three deadly crimes are committed in one night, the Joker seemingly responsible for all of them, and Bruce, Barbara, and Jason are drawn together as they try to figure out what's up. Of course, thanks to the Magic Chair, Bruce already knows there are three clowns, but Barbara and Jason are thinking that Joker is working with two look-alikes to create confusion. And considering the basics of what happens in this story, what the Comedian's larger plan is meant to accomplish, why couldn't this have been written with just two look-alikes? I mean, yeah, it would require Johns to forget about his continuity bomb, but maybe the story would have been better (and shorter). Again, the creation of other Jokers isn't doing much for what the plot is getting at. The three crimes that start us off would still serve the function of reminding Bruce of how Joker's been a constant in his life. The taunting of a convincing Joker look-alike is enough to set off Jason's anger and sadness about what happened to him, and his fears of what he could become. The climax with Joe Chill would have to be redone, but the threat of him being Jokerized isn't the crucial plot point; the Comedian's film of him is. Bruce doesn't even have any substantial thoughts about there being three of his nemesis.

But, alas, the story goes how it goes. And as it goes, we also see that Jason behaves more cruelly in his search for Joker than Barbara and Bruce. For example, Jason attacks and threatens one of Joker's victims to get information, feeling justified because the guy has a rap sheet, while Barbara scolds him and Bruce tells the victim, "I'm sorry this happened." What I find notable about this is that while comics regularly present Jason as hot-headed and Barbara as reasonable, Bruce… uh… If you gather a random selection of Batman comics, you'll find that his level of violence is all over the place. This story, however, requires a more somber Bruce, whose violence is more reactive, because Jason and Barbara serve Johns' dichotomy of "heal right" versus "heal wrong." We can't have Bruce on the sadistic side of the scale fucking that up, and besides, Jason's long been the posterboy for healing "wrong."

That notion comes to a head at the end of the issue. The heroes have encountered and subdued the Clown at the aquarium when Jim Gordon calls. The GCPD found another Joker, and Bruce leaves Jason and Barbara alone with the Clown to assist.

Goodness me, who could have predicted Jason might kill a restrained Joker? Not Bruce, who absolutely should have. Barbara is there to talk Jason down, sure, but what else is the Clown gonna do but needle Jason to kill him?

The Clown cackles then, declaring that Red Hood is his Robin, for the very reason of his violent impulses and how much he upsets the Bat, and of course Jason shoots him in the head, because oof.

Honestly, on this second read I found this scene a smidge too oof. Jason was a determined little Robin, dedicated to saving his awful mother to the very end, and him cracking and declaring that he'll work for a criminal… I don't know. I don't think it's impossible, but it feels superfluous. I don't think such a reveal is necessary to get Jason to fire. I think the Clown focusing on how the new Red Hood is actually quite similar to the old, as well as how Jason matters less than the neverending battle between Batman and Joker, is enough emotional stress to get to the same end result.

But that's a minor quibble; we've got bigger fish to fry! Such as the specter of the "healed right/healed wrong" dynamic that reappears as Barbara and Jason argue over the Clown's corpse.

Barbara leaves angrily after this, but man. I wish the story overall took more cues from this scene, that in a Black Label story we could stray from the simplistic idea of how a Good One would save Joker and a Bad One wouldn't. I want to explore Jason's assertion that Barbara didn't do her best to uphold Bruce's one rule. I want to know if maybe she's tired of being the fucking Good One.

Hell, let's go further: what if we were surprised by Barbara killing the Clown before Jason could? The Clown's taunting about Jason could have gotten to her too. We could have a story about how being put on a pedestal as a Good Victim is a cage, about Barbara struggling with falling from that position, about Jason feeling unsure if he should commend her for an act that obviously hurts her or comfort her for something he would have done himself. That's an actual examination of the struggle to process violent trauma— that you don't need three Jokers for!

But the story we have never gets back to Jason's suggestion that Barbara let the murder happen, not in this issue or the following two. This issue just ends with Jason hoping that the Clown was the actual Joker and that he didn't kill the wrong guy, which is a pretty "LOL oh yeah" line when you remember that he and Barbara don't know there are three Jokers yet.

Book 1, truth be told, isn't that bad. On my reread, I started to wonder if my only real issue with the story is that it's not as engaging as all the hype insisted it would be.

Then Book 2 starts, and goddammit. GODDAMMIT.

I've said it before, and I'll say it again: why can we not have more DC writers having fun with Joker's multiple-choice backstory? Why did Johns read The Killing Joke and decide his interpretation would be this?:

Ugh. UGGGHHH.

I don't recall the issue, but there's these panels that circulate sometimes of Harley Quinn encountering Joker in Arkham or prison, in which they exchange words about their relationship and he's a creep and she kicks his ass. I have no problem with Harley kicking Joker's ass. He deserves it. My problem is that those panels play out like an empowerment scene in a generic Lifetime movie. My problem is that it doesn't have the flavor of Harley and Joker. My problem is that it's lazy.

And that's my problem with what Johns does with Joker's backstory in TKJ. He could take it anywhere, and he goes gritty without an ounce of nuance. Because hey, this is Joker, and  "there is nothing in him that is good," right? We'll just ignore that one of DC's all-time classics, the one this garbage is ✨inspired by✨, has Joker reflecting on a past for which he is an unreliable narrator, but in which he laments how his comedy dream put his growing family in a bad spot, in which he desperately aligns with shady people so his family can be secure, in which he's devastated by losing the only person he has in the world and their growing baby. And these memories could be distorted or entirely fake, but what's interesting in TKJ is that Joker never tells anyone else about them, even in his big speech to Batman. The flashbacks are not part of an attempt to manipulate anyone or convince them his world view is correct. It's a tale in Joker's head that, regardless of the truth, deeply affects him. It's what drove him to go to horrendous lengths to prove his point, even if the point is wrong.

But fuck that, right? We're going lazy! We're going cheap! We're going with the Jeannie backstory, but actually Joker was only terrible to her. The Comedian fondly fantasizes about terrorizing her and their son, because he's 100% an abuser, because he must have always been that way, with not a single appealing quality that we need to reckon with as we so often do with toxic people in real life. Even the freaking stutter Joker had as he struggled with stand-up comedy is given to Jeannie. Seriously?

I cannot emphasize enough: fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck this "take."

On the other hand, when the Comedian is brought out of his stupor, we do finally get something super funny:

At least we'll always have this panel of Joker eating cat food.

The Criminal only interrupted the daydream because he's mad the Clown is dead, and the Clown was so eager to be dead I thought it was part of their plan buuuuuuut I guess not. Then we jump to Bruce figuring out that the "Joker" that Gordon cornered is just another victim, a dead judge. Barbara appears to tell Bruce what Jason did, and they discuss it over comms on the road.

Bruce, shockingly, says that they can't really do anything about what Jason did.

Pretty sure the guy who batarang'd Jason's throat rather than let him kill Joker would have a more intense reaction than this?? Or any reaction other than sober understanding? Maybe Bruce is still coping with finally dealing with three Jokers at once and will flip his shit when this all resolves. Or maybe he's just thinking, "it's okay, I still have two emotional support clowns left!" I don't know. He's so weirdly passive in this story.

What's more aggravating, though, is the other aspect of this conversation, that Jason "healed wrong." It would be one thing as a pat judgment Bruce is making, but we know from that interview that Johns positioned "healed right versus healed wrong" as the story's theme. It's not good. It's way too glib a framing for evaluating how people who've gone through trauma are dealing with it, in any context. Sure, there are better and worse coping mechanisms, better and worse outcomes, but healing is an ongoing process that can be so individualized. Reducing it to "right" and "wrong," saying that one is "strong" and implying that the other comes from some sort of deficiency… I hope Johns just spoke poorly and he does understand that it's not that simple.

Now, is it a stretch to apply that critique to Jason killing criminals at his whim? Sure, deciding that you personally should play the role of judge, jury, and executioner is not a good way to deal with trauma. But that's not exactly what's happening here. This "healed right versus healed wrong" framing is being applied to Jason Todd going after the Joker. Obviously, I like Joker, but can we be real about this? Can we be real in a Black Label book, the imprint where comic books (allegedly) have room to take things more seriously? Can we take the question of, "In this fictional world where Joker is an unstoppable fatal mayhem machine— now THREE machines— is it completely out of bounds for someone to finally kill him?" and be like, "Errr…not really?" When this story explicitly denies Joker even one teeny redeeming human quality, are we seriously still going to say, "Well, you know, if Jason takes the life of the man who murdered him and millions other people, because he doesn't want him to kill more people, which Joker will absolutely do and we all know it, doesn't that say something awful about Jason?" Are we really??

Plus the judgment about healing is put into the mouth of a man who— say it with me!— regularly dresses as a bat and beats the ever-loving shit out of people because his parents were murdered. Toning Bruce down in this particular story doesn't hide that.

Although, what I think is intended as a flawed assumption on Bruce's part is his other line, "Jason's suffering." It implies that Barbara still isn't, but we are shown Barbara reflecting on her paralyzation, even now when she's "strong" and has healed "right." And the story will get into this a bit later, but it absolutely does not let Barbara and Jason escape the dichotomy. To the story's detriment, their interactions go in a wild direction, but we'll get to that.

First, Bruce and Barbara's investigation leads them to Blackgate, because the fingerprints on the murder weapon for the dead judge belong to none other than Joe Chill. However, we learn that Chill has been in the medical wing for two months because he's sick with cancer.

Meanwhile, Jason's investigation leads him to a closed athletic center. The pool inside is filled with the chemicals stolen from Ace at the start of the story, as well as dozens of pale naked bodies with green hair. Jason's attempt to contact Barbara is interrupted when one of said bodies bursts to life and grabs his ankle, asking for help. Jason reacts with hostility, kicking the poor guy, and I'm not sure if it's because he's unnerved by a room of floating Jokers or if it's pretty normal for him to not keep his cool even for the sake of an obvious victim of a horrible crime. A Gotham City vigilante can't be that shocked by one guy being alive in a pile of bodies, can they?

But that's all setup. When the guy falls unconscious, the Criminal and the Comedian ambush Jason and drag him away, one saying, "He'll be perfect."

It's a line that meanly gets your hopes up, poking at a subject that could make all this more interesting.

Jason awakes, strapped to a chair and as naked as the bodies in the pool. The Criminal says he and his pals have spent a lot of time trying to find the perfect candidate for a new Joker, and he repeats the question of what's up with Jason taking on the Red Hood moniker.

It seems that, like DCAU Tim Drake in Batman Beyond before him, Jason Todd will be transformed into a fourth Joker! But it won't only be because it will wreck the Batman. It'll be because Joker already sees himself in Jason. This is something new to explore! There are places to go here; other comics hinting at Joker's past point to him having a childhood not dissimilar to Jason's, of growing up on the street, experiencing abuse, and learning unpalatable ways to survive. We could see Jason struggling with the possibility that he has more in common with Joker than he wants to think about!

But we won't. Inexplicably, the Criminal turns around and says that despite their similarities, despite Jason hating Batman as much as he does, despite the Comedian (presumably) saying Jason is perfect, and despite getting Jason ready for the pool, Jason actually isn't good enough, not "bright" enough. (Because all the Jokers we have in this dour story are so bright?)

And then the Comedian just beats the hell out of Jason (saying it's more fun than the first time, in another annoying nod to how he and the Clown are the same damn Joker) and says they're leaving Jason alive because maybe he'll prove them wrong and he'll become a new Joker after all? But the current Jokers aren't really going to go for it. Their interest is just abandoned.

The point is only to freak Jason out, so when Bruce and Barbara arrive, fight a horde of Jokerized victims, and find Jason alone and naked and vulnerable, he does not react well when Bruce tries to ask if he's okay. Jason turns on him and blames him for setting him on this path, for leaving him in the dirt, for replacing him easily. He lashes out at Barbara too, asking if she's going to lock him away, but ultimately it's easier to take comfort from her.

A direct reference to Return of the Joker here, focusing on the shadow Batman casts over the lives of his partners, the responsibility he bears in how Joker targeted them to hurt the Bat, and how poorly he offers comfort himself.

It does segue nicely into the next scene, when Bruce and Barbara get Jason to her apartment to rest. Bruce leaves to keep investigating, and Barbara is pissed because this is the exact lack of support that contributed to Jason going his own way. Support is highlighted again when Jason wakes in Barbara's room and looks around.

Aside from Barbara seeking out books to deal with her physical and mental struggles after Joker's attack, the old calendars show the help she received from her father and health professionals.

And this scene does get into something that's missing from TKJ, in which Bruce tells Joker that no, not everyone will retreat to madness like he did. How we react to trauma is greatly affected by the resources available to us.

This scene is nice. It's nice to come from the action to some place quiet and for someone to say this Jason, something he's wanted to hear. It's late in coming, but it's pain validated.

And then Johns fucking ruins it.

Man. Just. Ugh. Yeah, I know people seek comfort in moments of vulnerability, but… the reader knows. The reader knows moments like this aren't included to be like "oh, this was an isolated blip of human behavior! The story won't call back to it later!" Johns apparently wants Barbara/Jason to be a thing. And if you want a solid reason for that… well, we don't get any good ones.

Meanwhile, Bruce is in the cave, and I'm only mentioning that because these folder labels are incredibly funny:

Then the issue ends with Joe Chill kidnapped from Blackgate by the Comedian, who has a video camera and asks him to talk about why he really killed the Waynes. Dun dun dunnnnnnnn! Is that a twist on the way?! Well, yeah, but not really the one you think and it's incredibly stupid.

Finally we are at Book 3. Jason is suited back up, and he and Barbara have met up with Bruce in the cave to figure out how the Jokers plan to create another, better Joker.

Soooooo Jason and Barbara had that whole conversation. Jason was shaken by what the Jokers said to him. But now he's completely back on track. Allllllrighty.

Jason and Bruce then have an argument rehashing everything that Barbara said she was sorry Jason experienced, with Bruce saying of course he'd love to kill the Joker, and Jason pointing out that he obviously hasn't. Jason also says he thinks the only reason Bruce isn't turning Jason in for killing the Clown is to protect Batman's identity. Barbara just tries to de-escalate with her doe eyes. They're back to the status quo, and it sucks, which is the point. When they try to get back to the investigation at hand, Bruce pauses and attempts to apologize.

And again, with this blatant TKJ reference, it feels like we need to dig into the parallels between Jason and Joker! They both insist it's too late! They won't take help! But surely Jason isn't as far gone! There's something to chew on here.

But nah, this story is heading toward a big ol' revelation, foreshadowed here:

🎶 Why the fuck you lyin'? 🎶

Finally they get the alert that Joe Chill was kidnapped, and on investigating his cell, Bruce finds a bunch of letters addressed to… himself, Bruce Wayne. He seeks out the prison reverend.

Which is unintentionally hilarious, because in the storyline that started this whole three Jokers nonsense, there's a Batman Darkseid War one-shot where Joe Chill's behavior does not remotely align with this.

Lol comics are fun.

In the middle of Bruce investigating the letters, we get Jason being all repentant with Babs again.

You just said? You totally were?? Gonna kill more clowns??? How is this supposed to come off as genuine? Granted, Jason doesn't try to kill the other Jokers after this, but the apparently impetus for reversing course is... uh... we'll get there.

Anyway, among Chill's letters are tickets to the Monarch Theater, so the heroes all head over for whatever the Jokers have set up for them, which of course includes another horde of failed Joker zombies. During the fight, the Comedian's interview of Joe Chill plays on the screen, and the Criminal reveals they have Chill tied up in a chair suspended over a vat of green chemicals.

As Chill on screen explains that he killed the Waynes out of hatred and envy for how much they had, and how much he regrets his actions, the Criminal explains that he considered both Jason and Barbara as strong candidates for the new Joker. And wait. WAIT. Mr. Johns, sir, are you telling me it crossed your mind to write a story in which Barbara becomes the new Joker? That's so much more interesting than the bullshit we're getting! Imagine it: Barbara dealing with the dissatisfaction of being the "good, strong victim" and just losing her shit. You could combine that with how uneasy Jason is with his similarities to Joker, and maybe Jason is the one who convinces Barbara to turn back. This is Black Label! This could've been anything! Anything!

But we've got Chill. And the Criminal goes on to say the reason he wanted to make a new Joker at all:

Are… are you? I'm pretty sure Joker is pretty well fucking defined. He's a murderer with a very dark sense of humor who is obsessed with Batman. That's been a pretty good through-line.

Also, Joker pretty clearly means a lot to Batman, as that middle panel with Jason seems intended to remind us, but the Criminal does clarify that he wants to be "everything" to him, which is why he's pulling Bruce's parents' murderer into all this. I guess I can't blame him for reaching for the stars?

Cue big fight scene. The Chill recording continues to explain his regret, and soon the theater is on fire. Batman saves Chill and knocks the Criminal unconscious. Chill thinks Batman is going to kill him, but Bruce saves him from a falling brick wall instead— before the Criminal revives and tries to set off a bomb to kill them all, maybe. There's a BOOM flag sticking out of the dynamite a few panels later, after the Comedian shows up and shoots the Criminal in the head. TWIST!

The Comedian surrenders, and after a scene with Jason picking the most awkward time to suggest he and Barbara try being a couple and Barbara looking pissed she has to tell him no, we jump to Bruce and the Comedian in the armored police car.

As a batjokes shipper, looking at these pages is weird, because they are good food for the brainworms. The Criminal wanted to engineer a Joker who meant the most to Batman, but the Comedian wanted to be that Joker. It's a weird plan, considering that Joker prefers Batman over Bruce Wayne, so he would be more likely to not want to heal Bruce's wound lest the healing lead to less Batmanning, but still. This crazy plan is all about maintaining Batman's attention.

But I can only enjoy these panels out of context, not just because I'm pretty weary of insanely elaborate plans that manage to work out, but also because there's just so much to hate in the rest of the story, especially the real twist that closes it out.

Before we get to that, though, we're thrown back into the Jason/Barbara nonsense with a very gross letter he writes to her.

"Dear Barbara, I want to make a change. But I can't do that without you. I know I've come across cold and distant…"

1) Look, love can help people heal. Barbara could be a good friend advising Jason on what might help him. She could help bring him back into the batfam fold. This letter is not that. This letter is pushing someone to be in a romantic relationship with you for the explicit purpose of getting them to heal you. That's not how love works. That's using someone as a tool. It's supposed to be sad that Barbara never sees the letter but it's good, actually. Don't put that shit on her!

2) This romance came out of freaking nowhere and now we get Jason insisting he can simply stop being Red Hood for the sake of it— but only for the sake of it, apparently! Does Jason think his worldview as Red Hood is an impediment to healing or not? This is just surface-level melodramatic nonsense. And I wish that was the point, but no. Again, the letter getting swept away is presented as sad.

3) Speaking of which, who tapes a confessional letter that exposes your vigilante identity to a door where anyone can see it? You'd slip it under the door at least. Johns couldn't figure out any other way for the letter to vanish? Get out of here with this contrived nonsense. There should've been panels of Jason rereading the letter, realizing how unhinged it is, and throwing it away himself.

4) Is the "Funtime Cleaners" guy in his purple uniform supposed to be Joker? Or representative of Joker's influence on their lives? If yes and it's him, he's a goddamn hero. If it's symbolic, what does that mean, that even when you reach out to others… elements out of your control will keep you alone? 'Cause that sure is bleak for a book allegedly about healing.

With all that done with, now we get to the big twist, the dumbest fucking part of this story, the end, the takeaway. Of course it involves more crimes against The Killing Joke, which I'm increasingly convinced no one at DC has actually read in the past thirty years.

Bruce drives up to Alaska, and we get this reveal.

Do the kids still *headdesk* nowadays? That's what I'm doing. There will be a blood stain.

1) So Bruce has known the Joker's identity, or at least the Comedian's, basically the whole time. We're just retconning that the Joker question he asked the Magic Chair wasn't for information; it was a second test question. And all this is in the face of Bruce lamenting many times over the years that he doesn't know who Joker really is, of him lamenting it in The Killing goddamn Joke. "I don't know him, Alfred. All these years and I don't know who he is any more than he knows who I am. How can two people hate so much without knowing each other?" We're just. Fucking excising that. A line alluding to Bruce's motivation for visiting Joker in TKJ's opening scene.

2) We're rounding out the lazy revisions to the TKJ backstory with some copaganda! Geoff Johns doesn't think it's possible for Joker to have been anything but a horror to his family, but he does think it's possible that random officers in the friggin' Gotham City Police Department— in early Batman lore no less, when they were at their most corrupt— would fundraise for a "lady" they clearly don't know to get her out of the city to safety. Also, what was the plan for when Joker asked to see his wife's dead body?? Congrats, you've come up with something dumber than "Pushback."

3) This scrawls more highlighter on how bad the premise of there being three Jokers is, because the flashback in TKJ happens before Joker starts out. Like that's how Bruce always recalls it; he didn't meet the Joker until after what happened at Ace Chemicals. So isn't Jeannie then actually the Criminal's wife? Because the Criminal is the one who behaves as Bruce remembers Joker was at the start. So is the Comedian obsessed with the Criminal's wife for some reason? Or is the Comedian actually the first Joker, and the Criminal came later and used to be more wacky? What is going on here?

Under all these questions, per the final page, the point of Three Jokers is still visible: ultimately, his victims matter more than he does. But that's a hilarious point to a story that revolves around three of the guy, with very little payoff to the gimmick, and when part of the plot is that the heroes still shouldn't kill him.

And again, just because a story makes reference to healing, it doesn't mean it's "about" healing. The most we get is the knowledge that Barbara and Jeannie received support from other people. There's no discussion of how long it took either of them, of why Barbara came out the other side not wanting to kill Joker, of anything Jeannie has done since she left Gotham. The possibility that Jason could find connection is promptly throttled by a forced romance. It's implied that the Comedian's plan worked for Bruce, as we see Bruce at Chill's deathbed, holding his hand, and at Chill's grave. You might be interested in Bruce's thoughts as he juxtaposes Chill's repentance against the fact that his parents are still dead, so you can assess if this really would affect the feeling of loss that drove him to his lifelong mission, but you won't get them. The "how" of healing is up to the reader— who is never asked to extend the same thought process to the Joker. And you personally do not have to give a crap about Joker, but again, if this book is supposed to be about responses to healing, about Jason's response versus Barbara's, then taking an actual look at Joker feels relevant!

So there we are: fourteen pages of me venting my little heart out, hoping the premise of Three Jokers never gets looped into canon. I'm well aware that my personal attachment to a character means nothing against DC's incentives to promote stories with Big Twists (and endless events and multiverse bullshit), but then again, those incentives are based on what people will buy. So if I can add to the voices saying that Three Jokers is bad, and you should not spend your money on it or books like it, maybe I can be one vibe of many that keeps the Joker as one single bat-obsessed murderclown...

Though if not, I can always retreat to older comics. I still have plenty of those to get through.

[threadbaresweater]

HI LIN!!! those kiss prompts are sooooo good and i love the way you write, so i'm gonna send a few (in separate asks), i hope that's ok!

let's start with 14 ("A kiss so desperate that the two wind around each other, refusing to let go until they are finished.") + suguru

You have single-handedly made my entire morning. I'm using these as a little exercise to get back into the groove of writing more, so they're going to be unedited and raw. Thanks for sending all of them! I've already got ideas for the rest.

(uh, this got weird and angsty. sorry about that 😅)

It's dark in Suguru's car, the only light coming from the radio and a little sliver of moon that hangs overhead. He'd texted you a couple of hours ago. Let's go for a ride. Not a question, not a choice. You knew in your heart you had the right to say no, but you couldn't. You never could. Not with him.

"I don't want you to take this so seriously," he says, taking a drag from his cigarette, exhaling the silvery blue smoke with a heavier sigh than necessary.

You're embarrassed. You'd hoped your obsessive devotion to him hadn't been so obvious. He's magnetic. He's a dangerous game that you know you shouldn't play, but you're addicted to the rush of his affection when he gives it to you, so lavish and decadent it makes your head spin.

He knows the power he holds over you and enjoys the game of cat and mouse. Enjoys your distress when he tells you to ease off, or when you see him with other women, giving them the same kind of attention he gives you. You're not exclusive. He's made that abundantly clear. But it hurts, knowing you aren't the only one.

You want to be the only one.

"I don't," you lie, and he sees through it, giving you a smirk, a wrinkle of his forehead, a quiet huff of a laugh that says yeah, right.

But he kisses you anway.

He draws you close with a hand pressed to your cheek, a pinky hooked under your jaw. You lean into him as far as the car will let you, desperate for the way his lips feel when he slides them so perfectly against yours. Tongue, breath, a nibble of teeth, a quiet groan of your name into your mouth. You're drawn to him, and you're climbing over the center console as he pushes his seat back to accommodate you. It's quick and seamless, the way you straddle him and he grabs hold of your thighs without once breaking the kiss.

You need to be close, closer. The distance between you is nonexistent, but it's not enough. You press against him, hard and insistent and desperate to show him that you're the only one he should love. You're the only one who can satisfy him.

He returns your desperation in his own way. You're right, he thinks as he feels the wetness of your tears on his cheeks. None of them are as devoted as you.

[silentmoths]

*ahem* may this wayward soul request some demon zhongli spice please and thank you? the man IS named after a duke of hell after all-

( go crazy, moth, make this shit kinky )

also hi i'm sliding into your inbox again-

oh bitch you know me so fuckn well, also cheers for this ask keeping me in brainrot hell for several days-

LESSGO-

Demon Zhongli/Morax x Exorcist G/N Reader

NSFW, Ritual sex, fuck or die, Virgin Reader, corruption via sex, sadomasochism

"He is trapped within...we've tried multiple times ourselves to excorcise him but...we simply are not strong enough.." The priest before you sighs, you nod in understanding, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"I've never met a demon I could not exorcise, my friend. I will see this beast off." you reassure, the kindly old priest smiles warmly at you, nodding his head.

"Be weary of the beasts wicked silver tongue, may god have mercy."

It's your turn to nod, making your way down the hall and to the heavy wooden doors leading to the room they had managed to contain the demon within, even from out here you can feel the strength of the magics used to keep him at bay...just what on earth had brought such a powerful creature to your world? The room is dark as you enter, lit only by torchlight. Before you sits a man...well, what used to be a man.. if not for the golden horns branching from his head, the dark scalera, the fangs and the long, serpentine tail, tipped with shimmering golden fur, that is.

The demon raises an eyebrow, golden eyes roaming your form, and you shudder.

"State your name, demon." You demand, his lips slowly form into a smile.

"My, my, such spunk from such a little thing...surely they must be scraping the bottom of the barrel if this is all they have left to attempt an exorcism."

you dont respond, he was goading you, you knew that. Demons did so love to try and get a rise out of their captors. if they found a weakness, they'd exploit it. you held no weakness here.

"State. your. name." You repeat again, his grin only widens.

"Zhongli."

"That is the name of the human you have posessed, demon. your real name."

he chuckles, leaning back in his chair. you're sure if it wasn't for the ritual circle drawn around him, he would have already attempted to attack you, this one was smart.

"You should know a demon does not give his name so easily, little one."

"If you want your exorcism to be swift and painless, you should."

'Zhongli' tilts his head back and laughs, cold and malicious. "Oh little thing, you've no idea who I am... how quaint.."

"you are a demon, plain and simple"

"And you are nothing more than an excorcist. you have never been anything else, I can see it in your eyes... you showed promise as a youngster and have been forced to preform these silly rituals for the public's peace of mind since....you are tired, are you not?"

"Silence-"

"You were sold off to the church as a child, you have no friends, do not know your family, the church is all you know, all you are, all you will ever be.-"

"Cease your words-"

"You have so much more potential, so much untapped power, you are who I have sought for millenia."

wait, what?

"What would a demon possibly want with an excorcist?" you shouldn't ask, you shouldn't bite, but after two decades of nothing but the same song and dance every day... 'Zhongli' smiles at you.

"In order for me to tell you, you and I must make a deal-"

"Absolutely not, a deal with a demon? and here I thought you were smart."

"You havent even heard my terms yet, I'm wounded." Said demon simpers, shooting you a glance through his fluttering eyelashes. "Besides, if you come out the victor of my little game, I will answer every question you've ever had about yourself, about your role, your place in life...surely someone of your standing would find that...agreeable?"

Your eye twitches, something about him..his voice you think...is this what the other priest had meant about his silver tongue? You watch as he slowly rises from the chair in the middle of the circle, he's tall, taller than you by atleast a head. Features sharp and...you loathe to admit it, handsome as he slowly steps towards you, the closer he steps, the brighter the sealing circle drawn along the ground glows. He could not breech it...but you could enter and exit freely if you wished. He stops before you, regarding you with those smouldering eyes. Something about them too, seemed very unlike the other demons you'd dealt with in the past. very put-together, no insanity or agression hidden behind them...in fact you couldn't read whatever emotion it was at all.

"Yes, you are very tired of this indeed...I can see it clearly on your face...every day pulled here and there to do a job you never wished to do... what harm is there in hearing my terms, little one? all you must do is endure for one hour, I will not actively attempt to kill you, if you can do that, you will be declared the winner and I will answer all your questions."

An hour? you'd dealt with rituals longer than that...you had a high pain tolerence...it sounded...doable.

'Zhongli' Holds out his hand, open and inviting.

"If you find the terms of victory agreeable, take my hand."

You stare for a moment, what horrible tortures could this demon have planned for you? endure for an hour...it was just an hour..you could last an hour against any sort of demonic torture... with a slow exhale, you reach into the circle and place your hand in his.

---- This was not what you had expected. You'd expected pain, expected claws rending your flesh...

Not to be suffocating on a demon's tongue, wicked indeed.

The moment you'd taken his hand, he'd pulled you into the circle, his other hand circling your waist as his lips collide with yours. Of all the things you'd seen and experienced in your life, physical intimacy of any kind was...not one of them.

Soon enough you were straddling his lap, his tail coming around to wrap around you, hold you to his chest as he kisses the air from your lunghs, his inhumanly long tongue working it's way into your throat.

It should be horrifying, you should be fighting back.

so why then, did it feel so...nice? Strong hands holding you, your senses being assulted and overpowered in such strange ways, you'd seen horrible things, felt fear and disgust...but this...what was this?

Whenever you have the courage to crack an eye, he's staring at you through half-lidded eyes, glowing gold in the dim light, along with the tips of his hair and his horns, it almost looked holy...almost.

You should be sputtering and gasping for air when he finally retracts his tongue, shoving him away, but your body only falls limp in his grasp.

"mmh, as I thought...you've never felt the pleasures of flesh before...how wonderful...such honest reactions.." His lips pull into a toothy grin, which only serves to make you look away. "You are exactly as I had hoped, little one...come now, we've barely even started."

He's back on you before you can respond, teeth grazing your throat as his hanss tear away at your robes, the coil of his tail tightening to prevent squirming as soon as he has acess to your exposed chest.

No one had ever touched you like this before. it was scary and overwhelming, yet another half of you, half that you didn't even know existed, ached for it. pushing yourself up into his hands, eliciting a purr from the demon, gasping rather audiably as his fingers find your nipples and give both of them a harsh pinch.

"mmhm, seem's we're a little slut for pain, is that it?" his vulgar words send your head spinning. you weren't a slut...you were holy, better than this for sure...yet you only let out a pathetic whine in response. "What's the matter, little exorcist, demon got your tongue?"

"S-silence, beast..." god you hate the way your voice cracks, you hate even more so the lewd moan that leaves your lips when he leans forward, one hand and his tail holding you steady as his head dips low to take one of your abused nipples into his mouth, his hand giving the other attention as he bites down, you feel his fangs pricking into your skin as you jolt and writhe, hands finally finding an anchor point, his horns, gripping at them tightly as your body betrays you with more wanton moaning.

You felt dizzy, sick with desire and lust. thing's you'd always been told were sinful and wrong...but why then did it feel so right? so good? you dont even resist as his hand trails from your chest and into the waistband of your underwear, prodding at your entrance curiously, all while you gasp and arch your spine, you aren't even sure if it's to get away from his touch at this point.

"you know...it occurs to me that you didn't even ask about what I get if you surrender..." 'zhongli' mumbles against your collarbone, his comment makes your brain finally switch on for a moment, he was right...you hadn't asked...and internally you try to reason that it was simply because you expected your fate to be death if you gave in...

"what...what is it you want...?"

He chuckles, slowly kissing up your neck until he's looking you in the eyes, the black scalera really highlighting just how bright his iris' were.

"I want you. I want you to be mine...you hold such impressive power...you'd make such a wonderful bride. Be mine and I would turn you and you could finally take your vengence on those who never gave you any other choice but to blindly follow a god you do not believe in."

his words leave you trembling. How? How had he already known your deepest secret? even with all you'd seen in your years being trained and worked by the church...you'd never once believed their god was real..how could he be if there were demons like this one running around?

"Surrender to me...you will never know fear or pain again...only pleasure" He pushes as he slowly works two of his fingers inside of you. your tongue feels thick in your mouth and your throat dry, so you simply clamp your teeth shut. An hour, you only had to last an hour.

'Zhongli' doesn't seem upset by this at all, even as he shifts off the chair finally, laying you out on the cool stone floor, tail unwinding from your waist just to his hand could replace it's hold, keeping you there.

Faintly you realize, that with the light of the torch illuminating him from behind, and the glow of his horns...he almost looks like he has a halo... like he could be an angel, if it werent for the hunger in his eyes.. or the blunt head of his cock rubbing against you.

"Will you submit to me?" he asks again, voice and gaze entierly too tender for your liking. this was meant to be torture to endure...and endure it you would. So you turn your gaze away, throwing an arm over your eyes, he'd never said anything about you having to watch what he was doing. Again, he doesn't seem upset or angry, the demon only chuckling as he takes his time slowly rubbing against your hole before slowly pushing inside.

You expect pain, but the sting is only superficial, even for someone as large as he is...perhaps it's something to do with the warm, tingling feeling eminating from the hand on your belly.

viriginity stolen by a demon...and not even that unwillingly given...how sinful.

The demon above you lets out a gutteral, pleasured groan as he continues to slowly thrust his cock into your belly, slow, but inevitable, steady and unfaltering even when you twist or whine, a low ache slowly curling through you, not unbearable in the least.

Finally your bodies slot together and you let out a breath you'd not realised you'd been holding. you feel...full, impossibly so, it's enough to make your toes curl as you slowly peek out from behind your arm. The demon is watching you intently, curiously as you take in your situation, eyes slowly travelling from his face, lower and lower until you finally look to the spot between your legs where you're both joined. Only then does he thrust once, deep and hard, knocking the breath from your lungs.

Just like that it's like a switch flips inside of 'Zhongli', one of his large hands grabbing both of your wrists and pinning them above your head, his other hand gripping your hip, pulling you down onto him with each consecutive thrust of his hips, his cock dragging against every sensitive spot you'd never known existed within your body. He was so deep you could have sworn he might as well have been in your belly as you moan and cry, head thrashing from side to side as he bullies your insides so sweetly.

"Doesn't sinning feel simply wonderful?" He grunts, folding over to cage you beneath his warm body, chests pressed together, his heartbeat is erratic against your skin. "I can give you pleasure whenever you desire, simply submit to me...become mine and I will give you all you deserve, all you are owed, become mine.."

this kind of pleasure...whenever you wanted it? No more church? no more lessons and training? no more being 'pure' for a god you didn't believe in...?

"what...what could I possible provide you if I were to...submit?" you finally manage to pant, Zhongli blinks down at you, his head tilting as a fond smile pulls to his face.

"I have been searching for millenia for a companion to match my power, together we would become untouchable...no more fear or pain... All I want is you..."

"And...how can I trust you?" There was something building in your gut, a...tightness you'd never felt before as he angles his thrusts slightly, absolutely crushing one particular spot inside you that had you seeing stars.

"Morax." He whispers against your ear almost reverently, hand releasing your wrists to run through your hair "My name...My name is Morax..."

Morax...your eyes widen as the name settles into your mind...you knew that name, and it becomes apparent as to why any exorcism performed on 'Zhongli' had failed.

Morax was a demon lord, known for his human disguises, he hadn't posessed zhongli, he was zhongli.

and he had just told you his name, willingly.

Now was your chance, with his name, you could banish him, deal or not...and yet... you can't bring yourself to utter the chant, to send this one back to the pits from whence he came.

"I am yours...I submit...take me away from this place." your words are followed by a long moan as he bites into your shoulder, his hips jerking slightly, unable to keep up a steady rhythm as his arms wrap around you, pulling you up and into his lap as he falls back, back resting against the chair as he all but bounces you on his cock and gods- it felt so good to finally let go, moaning freely as that warm, tingling feeling from earlier only spreads. You only just manage to chant the words to dispell the sealing circle before that tightness in your belly finally snaps, your first ever orgasm ripping through you like a wildfire, making you scream and clench around morax's cock. "Yes...yes...Mine, mine forever, we are bound...take it, take my seed and become mine!" Morax is babbling but you don't have it in you right now to care, not when your body felt like it was on fire, the burn is bright, fritzing across your nerves as moraz lets out a growling moan, pulling you as snug into his lap as he can before spilling inside, even his seed it hot, and it sends the burning feeling up a few notches, causing you to cry out and writhe with what little strength you had left in you, but just like he had this entire time, he holds you steady until it becomes too much and you pass out, slumping against his shoulder.

Only once he's had a minute to catch his breath and admire you does he finally pull his softening cock out of you, he's dressed within seconds, carefully bundling his new bride into his arms, you would look so very lovely, draped in golden silks, sat upon hells throne with him...

He catches sight of the priest who had managed to trap him within the room as he strides from the church, cowering in fear, as he should.

For once his darling had acclimated to her new powers, he was sure they would want to return to pay respects.

[ghostflowerdreams]

The Lost Boys (1987) Novel

Ever wonder what extra details or differences about the characters, scenes or what was left out when it comes to its novelization and the film? If not, I hope I made you curious enough to find out.

The Lost Boys by Craig Shaw Gardner, is a novelization of the 1987 American supernatural horror film directed by Joel Schumacher.

A mother and her two sons move to a small coast town in California. The town is plagued by bikers and some mysterious deaths. The younger boy, Sam, makes friends with two other boys, the Frogg brothers, who claim to be vampire hunters. Meanwhile the older boy, Michael, is drawn into the gang of bikers by a beautiful girl named Star. Michael starts sleeping days and staying out all night while Sam starts getting into trouble because of his friends' obsession.

This book has been out of print for over two decades and is a rare, highly sought-after item within this film's massive cult following. At the time I write this the prices for the physical book ranges from $300-$500. Even a previously used one can run up to $100 or more. You're best best is to stick to a digital format, which I heard there's a free PDF version somewhere online.

It's only 220 pages long and despite being so short it's a novelization that's pretty faithful to what was on screen. It even includes several scenes that were later dropped from the film, such as Michael working at the beach as a trash collector. The roles of the opposing gang, the Surf Nazis, who were seen as nameless victims of the vampires was actually expanded upon. It also included several tidbits of vampire lore, such as not being able to cross running water and salt sticking to their forms.

Anyway, here are my notes and thoughts about it, along with what I've learned from the novelization about the characters, their fictional world and whatnot.

Why did the Lucy, Michael and Sam Emerson move to Santa Carla, California?

"His mother had explained it to him [Michael] until he had practically memorized the words. Even after their little scandal his father was still a pretty important person in their part of town. There was no way they could stay in Phoenix [Arizona] without running into him. He didn’t want the kids, and Mom didn’t want him. So Michael and Mom were on their way to Santa Carla, along with brother Sam, dog Nanook, and all their worldly goods.

Their grandfather lived in Santa Carla. From now on they would stay with him."

It's never outright mention, but strongly implied that the scandal is that his dad was having an affair. Well, that's what I think because an affair would indicate premeditation or deliberate intent over a period of time, while cheating is usually a one-time event.

This would probably explain why Lucy's financial situation wasn't improved after the divorce. There was no repairing the relationship, especially if it's an affair. She just wanted the divorce to be done with as quickly as possible and have full custody of her sons, even if it meant she wouldn't get a fair amount for child support.

Fun Fact: Santa Carla is a fictional quintessential beach town, located in California. It was actually based on and filmed at Santa Cruz, however the name, Santa Carla is actually an anagram of Santa Clara.

Fun Fact 2: Santa Cruz also earned the moniker "Murder Capital of the World," because of the town's real life history with serial killers in the '70s. The film borrows that aspect from Santa Cruz as well.

Director Joel Schumacher thought the location fits so well for the fictional world of the Lost Boys' vampires.

"The movie didn't come together until I saw it [Santa Cruz]," he told the Santa Cruz Sentinel. "At the time, there was an enormous amount of transient kids moving through Santa Cruz. This is exactly where I would come if I was a teenage vampire." [x]

Fun Fact 3: In real life, a trip by car from Phoenix to Santa Cruz takes about 11 hours. I was curious about how long it would've taken for Lucy, Michael and Sam Emerson to drive all the way to Santa Carla. So I imagine it'll be about the same amount of time in the fictional world too. This is also good to know if you want to be super accurate or better plot out your Lost Boys fanfiction. XD

Also, in 1987 the average retail price of gas was $0.90 cents per gallon. [x]

Fun Fact 4: The most iconic part of the Santa Cruz boardwalk is the wooden red-and-white tracks of the Giant Dipper, which was feature in The Lost Boys and among other medias.

The Giant Dipper was built in just 47 days at a cost of $50,000. Today, labor and materials for merely painting the Giant Dipper are estimated around $300,000. It also now costs a little more to ride the classic coaster compared to May 17, 1924, when the Giant Dipper opened to the public. The fare then was 15 cents; today (as of 2023) it’s $8.00 per ride.

On February 27, 1987, the Giant Dipper and the Looff Carousel (which was also in the film) was designated a National Historic Landmark. I tried to find the fare during that time period, but the closest I could get was an old article from Los Angeles Times which mention that the fare for the Giant Dipper was $2.00 in August 12, 1990. [x]

What is the name of Michael and Sam's father?

We don't know in the film, but the readers find out that his name is Lance.

Did you know that the Lost Boys entrance scene in the novelization differs from the film?

And then the Lost Boys walked in. Another gang, a lot better dressed than the Surf Nazis, but still a gang. Their leader, a tall, blond fellow named David, walked up and got right on the slowly moving carousel. The ride was almost over. The other Lost Boys followed him on. And as they spun around, Shelly managed to smile in David’s direction. David smiled back and nodded his head slightly in greeting, a polite gesture, the sort of friendly nod you might see a hundred times in the course of a day. Greg didn’t think so. He scowled at his girlfriend and jumped up from his seat. He took a couple steps in the Boys’ direction, but the other gang was moving too. No, not to face Greg. He realized they were going to go by him as if he weren’t even there. Greg stood up and said something that wasn’t exactly flattering. He shoved the Lost Boy out of the way. But now David was there. The calliope played on. Waltzing Matilda. The Surf Nazis joined Greg. Waltzing Matilda. The Lost Boys closed ranks as well. If the Surf Nazis wanted a fight, they were ready. Won’t you go a-waltzing, Matilda, with me. Greg stared at David. David took a half step forward. He found a nightstick pressed against his Adam’s apple. David let his eyes follow the nightstick down to a beefy hand, attached to the body of Big Ed. All three hundred pounds of Big Ed, a security guard with no love for Surf Nazis or Lost Boys. The carousel ground to a halt. The music stopped. The ride was over. Big Ed’s mouth was small for his head. When he opened it, his voice was soft after the calliope’s “Waltzing Matilda.” “I told you to stay off the Boardwalk.” David stared at the guard, not moving for a long moment. Big Ed’s eyes were small, too, but the anger there made up for what they lacked in size. David smiled and turned his head toward the Lost Boys. “Come on,” he said to the others, “let’s pull.”

That was the novelization and in the film there's a noticeable difference...

Shelly spots David coming up from her left and their eyes meet for a brief second, catching his attention. She turns and he stops behind her, cupping her cheek to look deeply into her eyes.

He walks off and she continues staring after him. Greg who was sitting right beside her on the ride, realizes they were having a moment. In his jealously he puts his hand on her face to push her away and to take his anger out on Dwayne as he was the closest.

She snaps out of it, but is stuck in her seat trying not to get caught up in the scuffle. David see Greg trying to grab at Dwayne and he joins in by planting his hand on his face to keep him away.

They get interrupted by the security guard, who puts his nightstick against David's throat and drags him away. With all their attention on him he tells them all, "I told you to stay off the boardwalk."

With a short chuckle David grips at the nightstick and says, "okay, boys, lets go."

The guard releases him and before leaving David throws in a quick wink at the other gang.

What did Sam and Michael do when fighting about who would get the room that was closest to the stairs and the bathroom, and it had a great view of the backyard?

Michael nodded. There was also only one way to handle younger brothers. “Okay,” he said calmly. “I’ll flip you for it.” Sam glared back at Michael, but he didn’t speak. He knew as well as Michael that older brothers usually win out in the end. But Sam also knew that Michael’s offer was his only chance. “Okay,” Sam said slowly, as if he had to drag the two syllables from his lungs. Michael laughed, grabbed Sam, and flipped him upside down. This will show the little bugger! Thinking of Sam as a bugger made him laugh even harder. Michael gasped as white-hot pain shot through his body. He looked down to see Sam biting his thigh. “Owww!” Michael pushed Sam away with what energy he had left. “You little shit!”

This is one of the deleted scenes from the film. It instead jumps to Michael chasing Sam down the stairs. Lucy telling them to not run inside the house. Sam opens the sliding doors to one of the rooms to hide in, only to stop in shock of what he sees inside of it. Michael catches up to him, but also stares in surprise. It's their grandpa's taxidermy room.

What did the Emerson family do in the afternoon they arrived?

They spent it unpacking and having dinner (probably a pizza) when they were finished. Michael helped his mother with the dishes by drying them, while Sam was in the other room looking for some music to put on.

He’d made another decision this afternoon too. He put the platter down at the back of the dish rack. There’d be no better time to tell her than now. “Mom,” Michael began. “I think I’d like to get a job.” His mother looked up from the sink, a question in her eyes. She didn’t ask it. “School’s only a few weeks away,” she mentioned. He took another plate from her hands. He dried it for a moment before he spoke again. “I was thinking of not going back to school.” The stereo kicked to life in the other room. His mother frowned at Michael.

Before she can say anything about it Sam and Nanook rushed in. Sam grabs her hand and pulled her away from the sink to dance with him.

Mom and Sam boogied all over the kitchen, while Nanook barked for emphasis. The two of them danced in his direction, reaching out to drag him in. Michael shook his head and backed away. He didn’t know exactly what he wanted to do. But he really didn’t feel much like dancing.

This is another deleted scene from the film. The difference however, between the novelization and the film's deleted scene is that Michael doesn't pull away and lets himself get dragged into dancing with them.

In the actual film, however, it jumps straight to the Emerson family (not including grandpa) exploring the boardwalk. Michael and Sam stick together to check out the live concert while their mother tries to get a head start on job hunting.

Fun Fact: In general, most public schools in California start the school year in mid to late August or early September.

If we're sticking to Santa Cruz as the basis for Santa Carla, that would mean the first day of school is in August. So the events of The Lost Boy film and novelization takes place on the last month of summer -- July. As that would certainly match with school being "only a few weeks away."

How did Lucy get a job at Max’s Video?

She was looking for 'help wanted' signs at the boardwalk when she noticed a little boy crying near a restaurant sign. He was all alone and looking very lost. Next to the restaurant was a well-lit store with a bright neon sign that read Max’s Video. She guessed that the boy might've wandered out of from there and took him inside it.

“This boy seems to be lost,” she began. She glanced around the store. Besides the youths, there were four other customers. “I thought maybe his parents might be in here?”

It wasn't long before a young woman rushed in and headed straight towards the little boy. After that Lucy talked to Max and he offered to interview her for a job at his store.

In the film Lucy walks pass a woman putting the security guard's picture up on a bullet board with other missing people posters. She awkwardly makes eye contact with her and continues on. She notices a 'help wanted' sign, but her attention gets draw away when she hears a little boy calling for his mother and that he can't find her.

Max watches in interest as the little boy and Lucy interact outside his store. The Lost Boys walk in and he's immediately frowning at them, but his attention gets pulled back to Lucy as she walks in and tells him that the little boy lost his mother.

Everything after that is basically the same in the novelization.

Fun Fact: Lucy Emerson's name was chosen as a reference to the fictional character Lucy Westenra from the 1897 novel Dracula by Bram Stoker.

Fun Fact 2: Max is inspired by Peter Pan, as he is the leader of The Lost Boys and immortal. Just like Peter with Wendy, Max also wants Lucy to be the mother to his boys.

Who else worked at Max's Video store?

Maria, the cashier is an attractive young black woman. She shows Lucy the ropes and reveals that...

“You know, I’d be out on the street if it wasn’t for Max.” Maria laughed softly and shook her perfectly coiffed head. “Nobody would have given me a job the way I looked when I walked in here.”

It was Lucy's first day at work and she noticed that Max still hasn't shown up. What excuse was she given for his absent?

“Didn’t he tell you?” Maria frowned as she studied her perfect nails. Whatever she found wrong with them was completely beyond Lucy. “He only comes in here nights. He’s busy opening another store in Los Gatos. It’s going to be much bigger than this one.”

Maria also told her that...

Max usually showed up an hour or two before the store closed to do a little financial business back in the office. Besides that, she never heard from him, either.

Fun Fact: The town of Los Gatos, California does exist. It is located in the San Francisco Bay Area just southwest of San Jose in the foothills of the Santa Cruz Mountains. The drive to Los Gatos from Santa Cruz takes about 30-48 minutes, depending on traffic.

Los Gatos is Spanish for "The Cats". The name derives from the 1839 Alta California land grant that encompassed the area, which was called La Rinconada de Los Gatos ("The Corner of the Cats"), where the cats refers to the cougars (mountain lions) and bobcats that are indigenous to the foothills in which the town is located.

Sounds like it'll be a perfect place for a vampire to set up a second location (or make it into another possible hunting ground) as any deaths can be blamed on cougars, bobcats and hiking accidents.

It's a smart plan and we know that Max is the careful type (seeing as only the Lost boys knew his true identity and not a half-vampire like Star). He has lived long enough in Santa Carla to know it's better to keep a low profile and plan accordingly, especially for a more secure future.

What job did Michael get?

He had seen the notice the night before, tacked to a telephone pole along the Boardwalk: “Dayworkers wanted. $4.00/hour.” The notice had said to show up for work on the beach at seven a.m. From the crowd around him it looked like about thirty other people had read the notice too.

He was one of the lucky few who got picked to collect the trash on the beach. This was another deleted scene from the film.

Fun Fact: In 1987 California, the state's minimum wage had been $3.35 an hour since 1981. But it was raise to $4.25 an hour on July 1, 1988. [x] [x]

What motorcycle does Michael have?

Honda XL 250

What did Michael do with the money he earned from collecting the trash on the beach?

When dropping off Sam with their mother, he attempted to give it to her (along with the money he had leftover from Christmas). She thanked him, but said it was unnecessary and gave it back to him. She wanted him to save it for school and focus on being a teenager, not adult things like their financial situation.

Michael smiled as he looked at himself in the mirror. This was all right. He was glad his mother made him keep the money, after all. He squared his shoulders and frowned at his reflection, tugging the battered black leather sleeves until they were just right. This jacket made him look years older. Michael smiled and shoved his hands in the jacket pockets. With this jacket on, he belonged on a motorcycle. Those teenagers last night had nothing on him anymore. He told the shop girl with the spiky pink hair that he’d take it.

This was another deleted scene from the film. Instead it jumps to Michael on the boardwalk already wearing the leather jacket and checking out a small booth in which a girl was getting her ears pierced for $10.

Fun Fact: A thick, long-lasting leather biker-jacket is expensive, especially a brand new one. It would've cost around $300-$600. However, an affordable and good leather can still be found thrifted.

It sounds like Michael did just that because he found a used leather jacket, indicated by the "battered" sleeves for a decent price. It makes sense because I doubt he had worked or saved enough money to get himself a brand new one. He must've thrifted one for less than $90.

“What’s this?” Lucy opened the envelope to find a folded Christmas card with a half dozen folded five- and ten-dollar bills inside.

He might've had enough leftover to also get his ears pierced for $10, but before he can check Star popped up from behind him. She told him it was a rip-off and offered to do it for him for free.

Star and Michael introduced themselves to each other and learned that both their parents were once hippies. But before Star could go with him to get something to eat David interrupts them. He calls Star over and tells Michael to follow them and surprisingly Michael never once question how David already knew his name.

At Frog's Comics book store, what did Sam say to impress the Frog Brothers?

“If you’re looking for the diet frozen yogurt bar,” the first one added, “it went out of business last summer.” So this was it. His first real challenge in Santa Carla. Sam had to cool these guys out fast. “Actually,” he admitted, the slightest touch of boredom in his voice, “I was looking for a particular Batman, j Series E, Volume 26, Issue 14?” The two commandos looked at each other. “That’s a very serious book, man,” the first one said. “Very serious,” the other agreed. “Only five in existence.” “Four, actually,” Sam replied with the slightest hint of a smile. “And I’m always on the lookout for the other three.”

Fun Fact: The names of the Frog brothers, Edgar and Alan, are a reference to the classic writer of horror fiction, Edgar Allan Poe.

Fun Fact 2: The original comic book store, Atlantis Fantasyworld used in the film was actually located in downtown Santa Cruz—not on the boardwalk, as it appears to be in the film. It was also destroyed in the Loma Prieta earthquake of 1989 and has changed locations twice since then.

The shop's owner Joe Ferrara II even appeared as an extra in the film. He still carries the original #1 issue of 'Vampires Everywhere' that Sam reads in the film. The comic was created only for the film, and its opening page is signed by all of the cast members from the movie. I've heard that it's still on display at the shop for everyone to see and to take pictures with.

Fun Fact 3: In the film Sam doesn't say all that, just that he's "looking for Batman #14". It does exist and its status as an early Batman comic makes it valuable in its own right, but it’s not “only five in existence” type of rare. However, a 9.8 graded copy apparently goes for around $54,000.

What type of motorcycle did David have?

The Lost Boy gunned his bike. It was a Triumph, a machine big enough to make Michael’s Honda look like a toy. He eased up, letting the engine rev back down.

Fun Fact: Kiefer Sutherland, who played David broke his wrist in three places. They weren't filming at the time so he popped a wheelie on his bike, but hit one of the trolley car tracks and injured himself when he fell. He had to wear gloves the entire time to conceal the cast. They also modified his bike so that it was easier for him to used with one hand.

At The Lost Boys panel at FanExpo Dallas he recount this story and reveals that he wasn't just having fun on the bike, but he was showing off. This is because there was a cute girl on the boardwalk that he liked and wanted to impressed her.

Fun Fact 2: At the time of filming Kiefer (David) was 19 years old, Jami (Star) was 20 years old, Jason (Michael) was 19 years old, Alex (Marko) was 19 years old, Brooke (Paul) was 21 years old, Billy (Dwayne) was 22 years old and Chance (Laddie) was 10 years old.

This, however, doesn't mean that their characters were the same ages too. In the novelization we know for sure that Michael's 18 years old and once summer ends he'll be starting his final year of high school. Sam is 13-14 years old and would to be entering it. The Frog brothers are about the same age, but might be a year or two older than him. As for the vampire boys...we don't actually know.

In the fandom it varies, but the general consensus is that Dwayne is the oldest in the group (as in their bodies' physical age) and guessed to be 20-21 years old, David is 20-19, Paul is 18, and Marko is the youngest at 16-17.

As for who's been a vampire the longest it would be David as he's the leader of the group for a reason. The second oldest is usually a toss up between Dwayne and Marko though. But most usually go with Dwayne as the second in command. From the novelization we definitely know that Paul was the last one to joined the group before Star and Laddie.

We know this because Star mention how she was able to connect with him better than the others. She believed the reason for that was because he hadn't been a vampire as long as the others and still remembered what it was like as a human to be lonely and lost.

Anyway, I bring this up because the film was originally set to be directed by Richard Donner with Fischer and Jeremias' screenplay which was modelled on Donner's recent hit The Goonies (1985). They envisioned it as more of a juvenile vampire adventure with 13 or 14 year old vampires, while the Frog brothers were "chubby 8 year-old Cub Scouts" and the character of Star was a young boy.

When Donner committed to other projects, Joel Schumacher was approached to direct the film. He came up with the idea of making the film sexier and more adult, bringing on screenwriter Jeffrey Boam to retool the script and raise the ages of the characters.

Fun Fact 3: In the film and novelization we only know the Lost Boys' first names. And Dwayne's name was never said out loud in the entire film and was only known in the end credits.

Also, there's a bit of confusion within the fandom as some believed David's surname is Powers. It's not. In The Lost Boys: The Tribe (which is technically non-canonical) Shane Powers (who's actor, Angus Sutherland is actually Kiefer Sutherland's real life half-brother) meant it in a ‘blood brothers’ way.

Shane was a member of the Surf Nazi and while at a bonfire party (the very same one the boys took Michael to), the Lost Boys attacked the group. He survived their feeding frenzy, but got unintentionally turned into a vampire by David.

Why did Michael drink the "wine"?

It's a combination of being high on marijuana, peer pressure (mostly from vampire mind manipulation/compulsion nudging him) and he didn't actually understand what was really going on. He thought this was all a part of an initiation. That the final step was to drink the wine, and that Star was in on it too.

He smiled at David. He knew what they were doing. First the maggots, then the worms, now this. How much of a fool did they think he was? The wine really was as dark as blood. It was the best joke of all. He lifted the cup to his lips. He’d show David and the others that he wasn’t afraid of anything. “Good joke,” he said. “Blood.” They all watched him drink it. It was salty and sour for wine. Michael wondered where David had found it. It probably had been down in this cave ever since the earthquake.

Fun Fact: When they're eating Chinese food, David leaves his chopsticks sticking straight out of his and Michael's food. In many Asian cultures, including but not limited to Chinese, Japanese, Korean, and Vietnamese, share standard rules of table manners across the board.

One of the biggest taboos is placing your chopsticks vertically in your bowl, especially with rice. This is because it is not only brings bad luck but it is a sign of death. The act of sticking your chopsticks upright can be seen as an invitation for spirits to come to dine with you. In Vietnamese culture, it can also resemble a funerary incense bowl, which is often associated with the commemoration of the dead.

What happens after Michael drinks the "wine"?

He passes out and somehow gets home and into his bed. I'm guessing the Lost Boys helped him as they already knew where he lived. As for how they got that information they followed him because they originally planned for him to be Star's first victim, which she revealed to him.

“What did you do last night?’’ Sam asked. “You look totally wasted.” Michael shook his head. “I can’t remember much after the Chinese food that looked like maggots.”

And for some odd reason...

"The bottoms of your feet are covered with salt,” his brother replied. This was just too much to deal with. Michael stood up with a groan and began to shuffle out of the room. "I told you it was pretty weird Chinese food,” Michael culled to his brother as he walked out the door.

Fun Fact: I was curious about why would salt be sticking to the bottom of his feet so I looked it up.

Salt is known for having purifying properties that can ward off evil. Since vampires are often considered creatures of evil, it would make sense that salt can ward them off too.

For example, in many folklores the best way to stop a vampire (or most evil spirits, creatures, etc.) is to carry a small bag of salt with you. If you are being chased, you need only to spill the salt on the ground behind you, at which point the vampire is obligated to stop and count each and every grain before continuing the pursuit. If you don't have salt handy, some say that any small granules will do, including birdseed and sand. Another example is to simply toss salt over your shoulder. This is so you can blind any creature trying to sneak up on you.

However, salt wasn't used like that here so I did some more digging around and apparently it can also be used as a tracking device. It would be dumped on the bedroom floor of a vampire victim. The idea was that the vampire would step in the salt and the salt would stick to their bare feet, which would then allow the Buffys, Van Helsings, and Winchester Brothers of the world to follow the saline path back to the vampire's grave.

That brings me to my next question, where would the salt come from and why? The only possible explanation I could think of is that maybe Grandpa Emerson (being aware of vampires) could've put some salt around Michael's bedroom floor, especially after noticing he shows signs of vampirism. It could be a way to know if Michael is being targeted as the vampire's next victim or if he is one now, than Grandpa Emerson would know better in what direction to look for the main vampires' lair.

I'm probably overthinking it, but we don't really know all that much about him. Just that he's a retired businessman, has a small marijuana bush growing outside his kitchen's window, has taxidermy as a hobby, keeps his root beer and double-thick Mint Oreo cookies on the second shelf and he visits Widow Johnson a lot.

He could simply be a hermit and scarcely ever ventures out to town or is secretly an experienced vampire hunter that knows how to keep a low-profile. Of course, I find out that in the The Lost Boys Vol. #1 comic (which is a miniseries that picks up after the 1987 film) it's apparently the latter and there's a bit more to him than I thought.

But the more likely possibility is that maybe the vampires in The Lost Boys' universe all have salty feet (well, more like salt sticks, collects and/or coats their skin -- if that's the case it's probably unavoidable when they're living so close to the ocean) as a trait. It sounds like it was made up for the film to help people like the Frog brothers to identified vampires. Or maybe this only applies to Santa Carla's vampires?

What else did we learn about the vampires' weakness?

He [Michael] realized that he had turned the hot water off. It didn’t make any difference. The water still burned. He pulled his arm from the shower. What was the matter with the shower? He looked at the angry red welts running down his arm. The cold water had burned him.

Fun Fact: Water is also known as the source of life and so naturally works against the undead. On a practical level, it can also deter predatory creatures that hunt by smell, as water can misdirect or damp scent trails. But running water in particular is a traditional weakness in many vampire mythos. Vampires are thought to be helpless when submerge in it and can be destroyed to many variations of death (such as drowning) because of it.

This myth comes from the Church (in ancient times) trying to feel protected because it was believed that nothing evil could swim or cross running water.

The origin of this may be that Jesus was baptized in a river (washing away evil and sin), but undoubtedly helping the folklore is that running water is much cleaner and safer to live near than stagnant water. Stagnant water doesn't wash away harmful content, is more inviting to mosquitoes and other vermin, promotes mold, and so on.

Vampires are thought to be wretched and disease ridden abominations. Because of that the purity of the running water repels them. However, in some folklore vampires are known to be territorial creatures and don't cross running water, such as rivers and streams because it often serve as natural marker boundaries in the region for hunting territory.

So, if they really wanted to they can cross running water just fine, but they choose not to. It's an unspoken rule that all vampires follow in order to keep the peace with other vampires in the same area.

From this we can accurately deduced that the Lost Boys can't take showers, but can still take bathes. As for if they can cross bridges, or take boats I don't know. Some vampires can't cross running water under their own power or by their own will. Others can as long as they use a human under their control to carried them across, maybe they can still [transform and] fly or jump over it themselves?

I think it's more the latter than former, as we don't actually see it or read it, but it's implied that the Lost Boys jumped off [or hovered above] the Hudson's Bluff, which overlooks the ocean, with their bikes while they were messing with Michael. It's hard to tell what they were actually doing because of the thick fog.

What did Michael tried to eat or drink?

Besides, his brother was right. He should put something in his stomach. He opened the refrigerator and took out a carton of milk. Pain shot through his stomach and chest. He doubled over, dropping the milk.

The room was also spinning and pulsing, he could even feel his own blood surging through his arteries and veins...

Michael forced his head back down. He had to stop this somehow. He saw a mouse in the comer. A large mouse in a trap, its neck slashed and broken, but not quite dead. It struggled feebly in the comer. And it bled. Bright red droplets fell to the kitchen floor. The mouse pulsed and expanded, just like everything else around Michael. He didn’t care. All he could see was the blood. The mouse stiffened, eyes wide open, dead at last. Michael dragged himself over toward the dead rodent, heedless of the pain in his stomach and chest. He reached out his fingers to the pantry floor. He had to touch the blood.

Michael calmed down a bit after tasting some blood and the pain went away too, but he needed more. At that point he was falling into feral vampire mode and wasn't fully himself. He followed the loudest heartbeat in the house, which was his brother.

In the film this scene is slightly different. Michael picks up a carton of milk to drink it only to drop it and collapse in pain. Then it cuts to him with his face and body hidden in shadow as he climbs the stairs menacingly towards his brother.

What song was Sam singing to in the bathtub?

Sam sang along with the tape on his boom box. Clarence “Frogman” Henry croaked “I Ain’t Got No Home.” Sam croaked along. He might not have a home, but this bathtub was the next best thing.

What kind of dog is Nanook?

Nanook is an Alaskan Malamute (which look similar to Huskies) which are known for their peak at the top of their head, which resembles Bela Lugosi's classic Dracula hairstyle.

Fun Fact: To keep up with the Peter Pan theme, the name Nanook was inspired by the Darlings family pet dog, Nana.

Fun Fact 2: When Michael was giving into his hunger Nanook protected Sam by biting Michael's hand. In Peter Pan the crocodile is known to have eaten Hook’s hand and this scene was a little nod to it.

Fun Fact 3: Completely unrelated, but if you're curious about what the name Nanook means-- In the language of the Inuit people, “nanook” or “nanuq” means “polar bear.”

In Inuit mythology, Nanook was the master of bears, meaning he decided if hunters deserved success in finding and hunting bears and punished violations of taboos.

How does Star describe each of the the Lost Boys like?

All the Lost Boys were so different. Marco was always mysterious; Dwayne a little awkward. Paul was the comedian of the group. He’d do anything to get her to laugh. From the time she had first gotten to know them, David had fascinated her, but Paul had always been the one she could talk to. She sometimes wondered just why that was.

Which of the Lost Boys was recruited before Star and Laddie?

Before she and Laddie had come here, Paul had been the newest member of the gang. She thought that perhaps, more than the others, Paul still remembered what it meant to be lonely.

Readers also learn that Star ran away from home. The why is still unknown but we can correctly assume that it was from an unsafe or toxic environment. As for Laddie we still don't know his story, only that in the film his photo is on the back of milk cartons (such as the one Michael tried to drink from) saying he's missing. Oh, and that his last name is Thompson.

I originally thought he was just a random kid that the Lost Boys snatch in order to keep Star from leaving them. They knew she has a soft spot for children and they, in particularly, David (or Max, as nothing happens without his say so) exploited it.

However, the novelization implies that Laddie was with Star before ever meeting the Lost Boys. That while on the streets she came across Laddie and because he's so young, she couldn't resist the need to help him. Soon after they got lured in by the Lost Boys and tricked or forced into drinking the blood.

Maybe they turned Laddie first so that she wouldn't hesitant to follow him? Or they both drank it without realizing it and she continued to stayed for Laddie because he still needed someone who genuinely cared for his well-being. To not only protect him, but try and save him from a damned life.

In the film, the Lost Boys interaction with him show that they cared for him in their own way, but there's probably a good reason why we don't often see vampire kids.

Laddie's presence certainly helped to keep her grounded to her humanity too. Maybe that's why we never saw her vampire face? It takes a lot of inner strength to not give in. Readers get a better understanding of that from Michael's perspective because he couldn't snapped out of it, and would have done something reprehensible if it wasn't for Nanook protecting his brother.

Fun Fact: Well, more like it's an interesting fact...In the mid-1980s, the nonprofit National Child Safety Council began a nationwide program called the Missing Children Milk Carton Program by putting photos of missing children on the back of milk cartons. By March 1985, almost half of America’s independent dairies had adopted similar milk carton initiatives.

However, the milk carton campaign faded out in the late 1980s and was abandoned altogether when the AMBER Alert system was created in 1996. The replacement of paper milk cartons with plastic jugs also contributed to its demise.

How long was Star with the Lost Boys?

They were killing the Lost Boys. In a way they had been her family. She had been with them for a couple weeks, ever since she had run away to Santa Carla. But she had never seen them as vampires. For some reason they had hidden it from her. She realized she had never known their true selves, only their human remains.

“A couple of weeks” generally means a time period that is more than one week but too short to be measured in months. For that reason many people considered it to mean 14 days; two weeks.

A lot happens in such a short amount of time, especially in the film, but in the novelization it has better pacing.

What happens after Grandpa Emerson saves them from Max?

He reveals that he always knew about the vampires living in Santa Carla and in the novelization, in particularly, the epilogue he's the one who's been narrating it...

After that things pretty much returned to normal. We fixed up the house, Lucy got a new job, Michael went back to school. Star did, too, after she found a place to stay at the Widow Johnson’s. Laddie remembered where his parents lived. And Sam decided he wanted to learn to stuff animals.

What's special about the Lost Boys’ cave?

Grandpa Emerson continues the epilogue and hints...

That place where all the Lost Boys slept is only the beginnings of the cave. Those tunnels seem to go on forever, maybe even all the way back into Santa Carla. And the noises that come out of there? My daughter insists it’s just gotta be the wind. Sam says it’s probably some sort of animal. But nobody knows for sure. So you’ll excuse us if we only visit the hotel during the daylight. And we haven’t quite gotten the gumption to go back there and check those noises out.

Fun Fact: The filming location for the entrance of the Lost Boys' lair, is the Hudson's Bluff Sea Cave at Rancho Palos Verdes in Los Angeles County, California. It's at the foot of a rock 'spur' jutting into the sea by Terranea Beach. The rest of their lair was built on Stage 12 of the Warner Bros. lot.

Fun Fact 2: The hotel was based on the Valencia Street Hotel in San Francisco.

Fun Fact 3: In early drafts of The Lost Boys scripts, there was suppose be an end credit scene. It would've been one of the few 80s movies to do so, but it didn't happen.

The film's final ending was so punchy that filming the tag was never a priority, according to the film's production designer Bo Welch. Once Warner Bros. cut the film's budget by 35% before shooting, the tag was the first to go. "It never got beyond the discussion stage," Welch said.

In the book, The Lost Boys: Lost In The Shadows by Paul Davis you find out what it is they had in mind.

The camera would've panned back to the Lost Boys' lair, focusing on an old weathered mural on the hotel wall, which would show a smiling Max in the early 1900s boardwalk, talking to a group of young men.

You don't see their faces as it was left to the viewers' imagination. It could've been David and his gang or another set of Lost Boys before them. But it's clear that Max and his Lost Boys (not just the current ones) have been terrorizing Santa Carla for that long.

Fun Fact 4: There were plans to make a sequel named The Lost Girls just two years after with David returning as the main villain. This is why David's body doesn't turn to dust like the others. He didn't die, even after being impaled on a pair of antlers. It can be assumed it missed his heart or it needed to be made of wood to be proper "stakes".

Scripts for the film circulated in the early '90s, but the film was never made. However, the plot point would eventually turn up in the comic book Lost Boys: The Reign of Frogs.