#miss j's mailbox

[musings-of-miss-j]

Laptop?

what about it 🤨

[agentark]

whatever you do, don't imagine a young J Corvin waiting every day at the end of their drive, hoping today is the day the mail carrier finally brings a letter from their very best friend

[zorosdimples]

but genuinely... who would hate u 😭 ur like the sweetest person to ever exist

i hope that there isn’t anyone who genuinely hates me—or you, or anyone else for that matter! but i know there are people who dislike me, and that’s okay; it’s a hard pill to swallow—especially if you’re a recovering people pleaser—but you will meet people who simply dislike you. and they have the right to feel that way, just as you have the right to feel similarly about others. maybe your personality rubs someone the wrong way, maybe they don’t like your sense of humor, or maybe they just feel like you don’t click on any meaningful level. the most important thing is that we don’t assume bad faith!

[lycankeyy]

I’m gonna drop it after this but I had to go make this meme immediately. The wings.

Also ye answering privately be fine lol

I'd say that his wings actually used to be inverted color-wise (like w the darker gold on the feathers) and I only switched it after I realized it made more sense markings-wise because of the stripe on his back but acknowledging the back stripe does not help me in beating these allegations LMAO but yeah its a funny coincidence

[trobeds]

Haven’t given you some angst for a while….

no u havent.........??

[girlboylintjrwi]

I got so concerned i thought it was real world—

Congratulations on the 2000 crawfish either way though rat how are you enjoying prime defenders

it is super cool I am loving it. BOBO!!!!!!!!!!!

[froot-batty]

it's tha joka baby

the great thing about having your own au is that you can take characters you dont like and make them completely different people until you like them

lore's under the cut!

??? (Nickname: J) lived a relatively simple life in the beginning. Coming from a terrible home, she never really flourished - simply went through the motions that were expected of any person in her generation. She eventually landed a job as a children's magician/clown, and while she was good at it, it didn't rake in as much money as she needed to live comfortably.

Especially considering the fact that she was a young, single mom. Her kid was about the only thing tethering her to a normal life, out of a desire to be better than her own parents were to her.

J had always had impulses. Desires. Be it a product of his upbringing, or his terribly boring existence, but he'd always had the desire to do bad things. Shake things up - like popping a bounce house with the kids inside, or bashing a particularly annoying participant over the head with his magician's wand. Things he'd repress, for obvious reasons. All except for one.

She had started stealing money or other valuables from her customers. Though she was desperate to be normal, J would often find ways to excuse her behavior. She wasn't able to keep the lights on at her current salary? Well, it was only fair that she took a little extra while on a job - she had earned it, after all; didn't you know how little this job paid? It wasn't anything they'd miss.

And that worked for a good long while. Until he opened his mailbox to find a letter.

The Red Hood Gang, in this universe, is basically a method of distraction. Does someone need everyone's eyes on something else while they go about their own plans? They pay Red Hood One to gather a group of his cronies and go cause mischief somewhere. J had been one of the people summoned to work as a Red Hood, as they had a whole heaping handful of evidence of her larceny as well as a clear threat against the life of her daughter.

With no choice, J donned the Red Hood. At first it went against everything she had been trying so hard to do; not to hurt people, or do anything bad, just keep herself in line. But, she couldn't deny...there was a certain freedom to it. When she donned the mask, she could be anyone she wanted, and no one would be able to tie what she did back to her.

Slowly, the guilt began to fade away. And J started to get ideas.

J adored the merry mischief that the Hoods would occasionally get into. Sometimes their plans were rigid (often defined by the person paying Red Hood One), but, occasionally, they were allowed to do whatever the hell they wanted. It was these times that J shined amongst the Hoods, as her plans were chaotic and nonsensical and drew in the people who also saw being a Hood as a chance at freedom. She eventually began to outshine Red Hood One, and would start to hold meetings with other Hoods in secret.

J began to wonder: what was the point of only having this sort of chaos contained to small bursts? So many people she knew - herself included - had been freed by chaos and madness. And she had seen firsthand the changes it could bring when the Hoods struck. Being paid for what they did didn't sit right with her; the nonsense of life should be a gift bestowed upon for free.

He had begun to sink deeper in the Red Hood ideals and lifestyle, and in turn started to neglect his normal one. He stopped stealing money, stopped putting effort into his job, and generally just...stopped being a person altogether. Being out of the mask felt like he was playing pretend now.

This did have one consequence that devastated him, though. His daughter, his only tether to normality, was taken away from him due to his accidental neglect in his ever-growing madness. This was the final thing to push J over the edge.

J had decided, then, that nothing in life mattered. It was a lesson she decided to teach the rest of Gotham - the only thing above all was madness, and chaos, and all of the things people locked deep inside themselves. J had already become popular amongst the Red Hoods, and so she finally took the mantle of Red Hood One by killing her predecessor. With her new title, she lead a new era of Hoods, ones who performed nonsensical crimes who had no pattern other than what caused the most disruption or destruction as possible. She was determined to paint the city mad.

When her and her Hoods were hitting Ace Chemicals, they were interrupted by Batman - who was a relatively new hero at the time. He had not known yet that the entire chemical plant was dangerously unstable, and as he engaged Red Hood One, the railing under their feet began to break. During their fight, it eventually gave way, and while Batman was able to cling to the edge and save himself, J wasn't so lucky.

After his accident in the chemical plant, J gave up completely the mask of the Red Hood. Now he had one burned permanently into his entire body. He took the moniker of the Joker, after a nickname he'd gained during his time as a Red Hood, and he's still deadset on showing Gotham the innate absurdness and chaotic meaninglessness of life.

....At least, that's what Bruce has pieced together. Who knows if any of it's the truth?

[writereleaserepeat]

Fan Mail

Fan work based on the Kane & Jim series by @whumpsday . I’m always so inspired by K&J, both in how to make a compelling story and how to be a better author. Please go read the original K&J before reading this - I promise you the investment of time is worth it. Some creative liberties and departures from canon have been taken to make this story work.

Summary: Jim gets a special delivery - fan mail. Kane is horrified when he finds out what this means, and Liz manages to make it worse.

WC: ~5500

CW: recovery from abuse and torture, PTSD symptoms, hate comments

Kane heard the familiar hum of the mail truck long before it reached the end of Jim’s driveway. The poor excuse for a vehicle sputtered along with its usual concerning wheeze. After hearing it for the first time, Kane had been waiting for the day when it inevitably gave out for good.  In the meantime, however, it would continue to deposit a meager collection of mass-mailed pamphlets in Jim’s mailbox once every weekday.

“Is that the mail?” Jim called from the kitchen, having apparently heard the telltale rattling on his own.

“Yes,” Kane answered simply, unsurprised that even a human was able to hear the metallic beast’s pathetic keening. After a moment he heard the vehicle’s direction of travel change, and Kane’s red eyes widened as his heart accelerated in his chest.

“It’s… it’s coming up the driveway.” His words came out strangled by fear, terror at the sudden and unexpected.

Of the days Kane had spent tucked away inside, hiding from the daylight that blazed beyond dark curtains, he’d come to embrace the comfort routine. He heard when the birds first began their song before dawn, and he listened to the wind shift through the nearby trees as mid-morning became afternoon. He found melodies in Jim’s footsteps upstairs, tracing the man’s path throughout the home each morning before he fetched Kane from the basement. Crickets began their crescendo as the sun began to fall towards the horizon, signaling that it would soon be time for Kane to return to the basement once more.

But the mail truck was supposed to pause for a moment before carrying on down the road. It wasn’t supposed to travel across Jim’s driveway and sputter ever-closer, carrying another human and goodness knows what else in its belly.

“Oh, Liz and Laken must have sent me a package,” Jim said with nonchalance. “Blaise drops any packages off on the porch, instead of the mailbox.”

The fact that Jim sounded unfazed did little to settle Kane’s growing panic.

“A package? But- but don’t they visit often? Why would they mail something when they can just bring it over?” The questions were all hiding Kane’s true concern: what’s the catch? How is this going to hurt me? Are the hunters finally coming back for me?

There was the brief sound of Jim drying his hands on the kitchen towel, and then he reemerged in the living room with a half-smile on his face. This one seemed genuine, kind.

“I think they want me to have a pleasant surprise now and then. I know money is tight for them, but they always find new ways to try and lift my spirits. Besides, if I refuse, Liz just starts counting how many birthdays and Christmases I missed.”

“Oh.” Kane’s anxiety coiled inside him like a spring. It was a painful reminder of those years he’d stolen from Jim, the years that Liz would never be able to return with a thousand well-meaning gifts. It was a reminder that Kane was a monster, and always would be.

The vampire soon realized that Jim had picked up on his nerves. He’d drawn the jacket tight around himself, pulled the hood in close to his cheeks, formed a barrier between himself and the rest of the world. It was like Kane was a child, trying to hide from the monsters in his closet.

Jim ran a hand through his curls and gestured halfheartedly towards the basement door.

“Why don’t you go downstairs for a few minutes? I’ll have to open the front door to get the package, and I don’t want you to worry about the sun.”

That was all the convincing that Kane needed. He willingly went down the stairs, past the silver door, and down into the dark recesses of his basement – no, the basement. He even let out a breath of relief as he heard the lock secured.

Moments later the rattling of the mail truck ceased to an idle hum. Kane could then hear Jim chatting with a stranger, their smiles evident in their tones.

“Hey, Blaise, how are you?”

“Doin’ just fine, Jim. I have a package here for you, not too heavy, but figured I’d spare you the walk down the driveway.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it, man. Can I get you something to drink?”

“Oh, I’m okay, the missus packed me some water for the road this morning.”

“Alright, if you say so. You take care now.”

“Likewise. Enjoy your afternoon, the weather out here is beautiful.”

Both of their voices were warm, friendly, alight with the jovial tone of passing acquaintances. The front door closed and Jim walked back to the kitchen, dropped his package and letters on the kitchen table, and then the lock on the basement door slid open.

“You can come up now. Blaise is gone, and the door is closed.”

Kane trotted up the stares obediently, relieved that Jim had been telling the truth, but simultaneously burning with shame. He’d made Jim go out of his way for something as simple as getting the mail, all because he couldn’t quell his own anxieties. Kane did nothing but complicate Jim’s life, all he’d done for the last decade was complicate it, and he wasn’t poised to stop any time soon. He felt the full weight of his burdensome existence deep in his stomach.

Although he’d heard the front door close, Kane swept his eyes carefully around the room before letting the basement door shut behind him. True to his senses, and much to his relief, there was no sunlight leaking into the house. Further inspection revealed pamphlets and a large box on the kitchen table, but Jim had seemingly ignored them in favor of the meal he had working on the stove.

The question dropped from his lips before Kane could swallow it. As anxious as the unexpected mail drop had made him, he was just as curious what Liz could have sent along through the post.

“Aren’t- aren’t you going to open it?”

“Nope,” Jim said without hesitation, and without apparent annoyance at Kane’s prodding inquiry. “It’s not a gift. Its garbage, and the garbage is where it’s going as soon as I’m done cooking these onions.”

“I can take care of that for you,” Kane offered, desperate to be helpful, especially after the scene he’d nearly caused because of a simple package delivery. Whatever was in that box was definitely a sensitive subject for Jim: Kane could hear it in the human’s rapid heartbeat and he could see it in his tensed muscles.

“It’s fine,” Jim said, his voice wavering a touch. “But… sure. Just dump the contents right into the trash, and put the box in after it, alright? Might have to cut the box down for it to fit.”

“Yes, Jim.”

Eager to assist, and pleased he’d remembered to use Jim’s name under pressure, Kane sprang forward and whisked the box off the table. His talons effortlessly split the tape and he proceeded to shake out the contents into the nearby trash can.

Much to Kane’s surprise, a pile of letters came fluttering out of the box, and they fell in piles onto the waste that was already sitting in the bottom of the trash bag. The panic that had just been quelled re-emerged. Kane drew in a breath and let out a shaking whimper. There was no way Jim had meant to throw out letters, right? They were handwritten, addressed to him by name, sealed with stamps and beautifully scrawling script.

“I- Jim- I don’t think this is- these are letters! They’re addressed to you!” His nervous exclamation was louder than he intended, but Kane wasted no time in digging his arms down into the wastebin, fishing out fistfuls of letters in a hurried attempt to save them.

When he glanced up, Jim had a scornful look on his face, which made Kane shirk back.

“Yeah, I know. That’s why they’re trash. Put ‘em back, stuff ‘em to the bottom of the can, and get the bag ready to go to the curb.”

Kane had to force a swallow, and he quickly dropped the letters back into the bottom of the trash. The rest followed, and he tore the cardboard box into pieces that he piled on top of the letters. Whatever they were, Jim didn’t want to see them, much less acknowledge them.

Before he closed the lid he noted the return address on the box. It fluttered to the bottom of the trash just like the letters, but not before Kane had taken in the sender’s identity.

Birchwood Forest Publishing, Inc.

That created more questions than it answered. However, Kane knew he had already pushed on Jim’s good graces with this matter, and the thought of upsetting him further made the hair on the back of Kane’s neck stand up straight. If this was something Jim wanted to keep a secret, Kane would let him have that secret.

Still, the curiosity gnawed at him like hunger.

---

Five days after the incident with the mysterious package, and four days since any remaining evidence had been schlepped outside for trash collection, Liz and Laken came to visit. Kane had been gradually growing accustomed to their visits, including Liz’s caustic stare. It was no less than he deserved.

The two hunters had just come off shift, so it was quite early in the morning when they’d arrived. Kane had heard their arrival upstairs, and he’d listened with earnest pining as the family laughed and joked and made their way through the otherwise quiet house.

Kane had been allowed upstairs after sunrise. The ankle restraints were familiar by now, even comfortable, and he was able to sit on Jim’s couch in silence as Laken retold stories of the last week in town. He was sure the interest was apparent on his face, but he sat rapt through Laken’s retelling of the butcher who had finally gained the courage to ask the diner owner on a date. Although the entire affair could have lasted no more than two minutes, Laken had managed to stretch the tale into almost ten minutes, and their impassioned dramatization was the most relaxed Kane had been in days.  

It was pleasant. There was no denying how nice it was, sat like a friend among these three humans, even if they largely ignored Kane’s presence. He was soaking in the laughter, the smiles, no matter the fact none were directed at him. Their blood smelled sweet, but not nearly as sweet as the joy Kane gained from listening to them laugh at something aside from his own pain.

The illusion of perfection was shattered when Jim finally piped up.

“Yeah, you won’t believe what I got in the mail this week. Another box of fan mail from the fuckin’ publishers. I told them months ago that I didn’t want them forwarding that shit anymore.” When he spoke he only sounded mildly irritated, at best, while Kane knew he’d been furious when the box had first arrived.

Kane immediately sat at attention, his calm dissipated, and he leaned forward as the siblings scowled in unison.

It had to be about the box and the letters, of course. There was no other noteworthy mail that Jim had received over the last week. “Them” could only mean one thing: Birchwood Forest Publishing, Inc.

“Fuckers,” Liz grumbled, and she took a sip of her cold cola, her lips smudging the frost on the side of the glass. “You’d think they’d at least screen it, right? You know, actually look at what they’re sending you, not just stuff it in a box and hope all is well.”

Jim scoffed.

“I don’t want any of it. No praise, no love letters, nothing. They can burn it, for all I care. Just stop sending it to my doorstep.” There was no hiding the sheer disgust that dripped from every word.

This only piqued Kane’s interest further. Why would Birchwood Forest Publishing send Jim love letters? And if they were indeed love letters, why did Jim speak of them with such vehement hatred?

Of the humans in attendance, Laken seemed the least bothered by the cryptic discussion. They stood up and stretched before grabbing the now-empty plate in front of them.

“I’m going to the kitchen to grab a beer and get the dishes started. Anyone else want anything?”

“I’ll be back once I take a leak,” Jim said, standing up alongside Laken.

“Guess that leaves me to babysit,” Liz said, to which the other humans laughed.

Kane’s cheeks flushed hot with embarrassment. He knew that Liz’s words were in jest, but dread knotted in his stomach nonetheless. As Jim and Laken left, Kane wrung his hands together. Being left alone with Liz was always scary. Even now, before Jim had left the room, her glare burned holes in his tattered soul.

“So, do you even know what Jim was talking about? The letters?” She asked once both humans were out of earshot. The accusatory tone was yet another clue Kane hadn’t picked up on before – whatever this was about, it was because of him.

When it came to Jim’s endless pain and suffering, what wasn’t Kane’s fault?

“J- Jim got a package the other day,” Kane started. There was a soft waver to his voice, but he pushed on. “It was large box that came with the mail. He told me to throw it away, and I did- well, I started to. I thought he made a mistake, because it was letters, and they were addressed to him. But… he made it very clear that he didn’t make a mistake. He told me to throw them out without even looking at them.”

“Mhm.” Liz leaned back into the chair and crossed her right leg across her lap. “Do you know what those letters were?”

For a moment, Kane was tempted to lie. After all, Jim had told him to throw the letters out, not look at who the box was from. He didn’t want to admit that he had learned more than he’d been allowed to. At the same time, he felt as though Liz could stare through him and all his secrets.

“No. All I know is that the box was sent from Birchwood Forest Publishing, and that it made Jim very upset.” This confession came just as quietly, an admission that he’d snooped where he shouldn’t have.

“You know that Jim published a book, right? A book about what you did to him. A book about how he survived, despite that.” There was no missing the accusatory tone in her voice, that anger she never quite abandoned when speaking to Kane. It was a sound that made him want to sink into the earth and never reemerge.

Yes, and I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I swear that I’m sorry, please don’t hurt me please please please…

“Yes,” he squeaked out, and pulled his hands close to his chest, as though that could protect him from a hunter’s stake.

“Well, you see,” Liz continued with another sip of her cola, “the book was a bestseller. Everyone loved the story. A human escaping from vampire territory? It was unheard of, especially after five years in captivity. It sold like wildfire the first year, and the sales haven’t slowed down since. But that level of notoriety, well, it causes problems too.”

Of course it did. Everything Kane touched caused problems for Jim. Even the very story of Jim’s captivity, and his attempt to make some profit from it, caused years of cascading pain.

“I’m sorry.” This time he couldn’t stop the apology slipping from his lips. It burned in his throat, and tears pricked his eyes. There would never be enough apologies in the world for what he’d done, and the thought that it continued to this day ached in Kane’s very bones.

“You don’t know the half of it.” That acidic abrasiveness gave Liz’s voice an edge. “The book had only been out for a week when the publishers forwarded the first box of fan mail. That’s what they called it, anyway. These were letters that readers had sent in to the publisher, addressed for Jim, because the publishers are some of the only people in the world with his address. They gathered up the letters, put them in a box, and sent them his way. You should have seen the way he smiled, thinking that maybe he’d inspired hope in some people, or that he’d find someone else who went through the same thing.

“Sure, some of the letters were like that. They told him how brave he was, how they could never imagine being so strong, or that his story gave him hope that their missing relatives would come home safe one day. But there were awful letters too. People who wrote solely to tell him that he should have died in captivity. Vampires who snuck into human territory to send words of vitriol for all humans, not just Jim. There were letters that accused him of being a liar, that he’d made up all of that suffering for the fame. For every kind letter of inspiration, there were at least two more than made him sick. They hurt him all over again.”

Kane’s head spun. He’d known that humans could be cruel – he knew that intimately well after his stint with the hunters – but he had no idea they could be so cruel to one another. And because of his own ignorance, not just trusting Jim when he said to throw the letters out, he’d dredged up all that hurt again.

“I didn’t know,” he whispered, wishing he could hide his face. “I swear, I didn’t- I didn’t know. I never meant for people to hurt him like that, I swear, if I could stop it-”

Liz cut him off with a wave of her hand.

“For once, this isn’t your fault. I mean, it is your fault. But people being dicks for the sake of being dicks? Humans have done that to each other since the beginning of time. Still, it doesn’t mean that Jim can handle it, not anymore.”

That sisterly softness crept into her expression, sadness clouding her eyes. She didn’t look up at Kane, but instead down at the floor, focused intently on the edges of Jim’s rug.

“I won’t ask about the letters again,” Kane assured her. If he’d learned anything from his time in captivity, it had been that making mistakes was unforgivable. Jim had been kind enough to let the letters slide this once, and without comment. If Jim had been upset by Kane’s inquiries about the letters, he’d hidden it well.

“I’m sure you won’t,” Liz said. “If you do, and he gets upset, you’ll have to deal with me.”

It was a threat that was often left unspoken, so Kane didn’t hesitate to acknowledge it.

“Yes, I understand.”

After a moment of thought, Liz tilted her head to the side.

“Have you read his book?”

“N- no, I haven’t. The only books I’ve read are the ones he’s given me.” These were the words that Kane managed to say, but even more ran through his mind.

I don’t think I can read Jim’s book, not by myself. You’d have to tie me down and read it to me so I can’t run away from what I did. It just hurts too much. Haven’t I already paid the price? Do I just have to keep reliving my sins over, and over, and over again? Is this the rest of my life?

“Well, maybe you should one day.” Liz spoke in a noncommittal tone. “I know he has some advanced reader copies still up in his attic.”

Kane was spared having to answer as Jim walked back into the room. He patted water off his hands onto his jeans, and stared at Liz with a smirk.

“What, not helping Laken with the dishes?”

“It’s their turn,” Liz shot back without a moment’s hesitation. “I did them last time!”

The siblings continued their chatter and Kane took the opportunity to retreat into himself, pushing out the questions and the discomforts from his time with Liz. If he sat with them for much longer, he’d be sick.

---

Kane had excused himself to the basement looking rather ill, and Jim hadn’t pushed the issue. The hood on the jacket had come up and Kane had wrapped his arms around himself, which Jim had come to recognize meant Kane was having a bad time. Given that it had only happened after he’d left the vampire with Liz, however, he had his suspicions as to the sudden cause.

“What did you say to Kane?” he asked, giving Liz a pointed look. Her shrug and averted gaze told him that she’d pushed something she shouldn’t have.

“I just told him about the hate mail.”

“Dammit, Liz,” Jim groaned. “You think the guy doesn’t have enough guilt? I tried not to tell him when it came in the mail the other day, and that was on purpose. I can promise you he’s blaming himself for it now, and I’m sure that’s why he left early.”

“I told him it wasn’t his fault,” she said, somewhat defensively.

“Yeah, like that’s going to make a difference in his fucked-up brain! Ask me how I know.”

“He needs to understand that his actions have consequences. Sometimes, those consequences are so far removed from the action that they’re hard to conceive. I just wanted him to see that his actions have long-lasting effects in ways he’d never have expected.”

Jim sighed and brought a hand up to his neck. In his discomfort, even in front of his sister, he was compelled to cover his scar.

“He sees those consequences. He sees them every day, and I don’t think he needs any more punishment than he’s received. You’re not here all day with him. The guilt, and the trauma, they’re eating him alive. Every. Day.”

“If you say so,” Liz said. She wrapped her arms around him, a sensation he’d never grow tired of. “But if you ever need any help keeping him in line, you call me, alright?”

“I know,” he said, and closed his eyes. All he could see was Kane cowering away from him on the first day he’d been home. How was that the same vampire that had tortured him for years? “I know.”

---

“Hey, Kane?” Jim called down the basement stairs, unwilling to enter Kane’s space without permission or good reason. “Are you alright? Liz and Laken are gone, you can come up if you’d like.”

It took a few moments for the vampire to take him up on the offer. There was the telltale shuffle of chains around his ankles, which he hadn’t removed before Kane retreated to the basement. Those familiar red eyes appeared at the base of the stairs and Kane made his way up slowly, cautiously.

“You’re not in trouble,” Jim reassured him, hoping to head off any nervous questions before they emerged. “I’m not upset that you and Liz talked about the letters.”

“Oh. Okay, I’m… Thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me,” Jim said as Kane tip-toed into the first floor of the house. “You’re allowed to talk with my sister about things like that. Hell, you’re allowed to talk to me. You know you’re allowed to ask questions, right? If I’m uncomfortable I won’t answer, but you’re still allowed to ask. You’ll never be punished for asking.”

“Yes, Jim.” The answer wasn’t particularly convincing, but Jim wasn’t going to push it. He carried on instead.

“I know I was upset when the mail came, but you were still allowed to ask about it if you had questions. I would have told you why I was uipset. I was mad at the publishers for sending it, not at you for checking about the letters.”

Kane’s red eyes watered with sadness, but tears didn’t fall.

“I’m sorry,” the vampire said, all but blubbering. “I’m sorry that people have been so cruel to you. I know it’s- it’s my fault.”

“No, it’s not your fault.” Jim tried to stress this, despite the small voice in his mind wanting to scream. Yes, of course it was Kane’s fault, in some distant way. But the Kane in that stupid book, the Kane that the rest of the world got to know, wasn’t the Kane that stood before him today. This Kane could hardly get a word out without sobbing.

“I’m… I’m sorry. Thank you for not getting upset.”

“Not upset at you,” Jim reiterated. “If you have any questions about the book, or the letters, you can ask. I might not be able to answer all of your questions, but I’ll try.”

He watched carefully as Kane looked down at the floor, then back up to Jim, and then back to the floor again.

“I… I had an idea.”

“Oh?” This came as a surprise to Jim. There were some things Kane had taken an initiative with, such as being useful around the house, but he rarely contributed any attempted ingenuity.

Kane fidgeted where he stood before continuing.

“You, uhm, did you like some of the letters? The nice ones?”

It had been a year since Jim had even opened one of the boxes from the publisher, and even longer since he’d read any letters the boxes contained. Even if there were a dozen letters praising his courage and complimenting the storytelling, one hate-filled page was enough to send him spiraling. It got to the point where even seeing the box in the mail spiked his anxiety and brought on nightmares.

It took a letter from a vampire, one who had managed to post the letter into human territory, to make Jim swear off opening them altogether. Those were the letters he remembered, not the kind ones. Those letters were the ones that gave him new nightmares.

“I suppose so,” Jim admitted with a sigh. “It was nice to hear from people who were supportive. I used to wonder if putting that book out into the world was the right thing to do, but enough letters convinced me that it did some good. I’d like to think it helped some people, wherever they might be in their lives. Maybe it still is.”

“Then… maybe I could screen the letters for you?”

This was something that Jim hadn’t foreseen. He stared at Kane with wide eyes, blinking in disbelief.  

“Wait. You mean you’d read through all of the letters?”

“Yes, Jim.” Kane’s voice rose in pitch, likely a combination of nerves and excitement. “I could read all the letters, and only pass on the ones that are kind and supportive. You’d never even see the other ones.”

An ache blossomed in Jim’s heart. This wasn’t just groveling and begging: it was Kane offering himself up as a barricade between Jim and the rest of the world, and he was doing so without any care for his own self-preservation.

Jim didn’t need prompting to remember some of the other letters he received. Letters that were neither expressing hatred towards himself nor admiration. There’d also been the letters from the vampire hunters and various victims, all dripping with hatred for not just all vampires, but Kane specifically. Undoubtedly, there were similar letters in the box that had been discarded just a few nights prior.

No words of affirmation from strangers would be worth putting Kane through that. Not now, not after everything had changed. Kane’s well-being was worth more than any hollow words of praise.

“No, man, it’s all trash. I don’t need that shit.” His smile felt painfully fake, but he put it on for Kane’s sake. “I appreciate the offer, though.”

A pause spanned the air between them as Kane’s distress prickled.

“And, uhm, Jim?”

“Yeah?”

“Liz said I should… she said I should read the book. You never gave it to me, so, uhm, I’m not sure if you wanted me to, but I… I would do it, if that’s what you wanted. It would… it would be hard, I’m not sure I could do it on my own, but I’d try, I’d really try, if you said to.” The tears Kane was holding back were obvious as his voice cracked. He couldn’t even look up at Jim as he spoke.  

Dammit, Liz. Part of Jim wished she was still in his living room so he could ask her what the hell she’d been thinking when she said that.

Instead, he had to draw a deep breath in through his nose and let it out through his mouth. Yes, this was a sensitive subject, but he was ready to navigate it. Jim knew he was healing, because he patted Kane gently on the top of his head instead of screaming. There were things in those pages neither would be able to bear revisiting.

“To tell you the truth, I’ve never read the whole thing,” he ended up saying. He was painfully aware of just how much in the book could wind up traumatizing them both if they ever dared to read the words. “I would never, ever ask you to read that. It was something from a different time in my life. A different time in your life. So long as the cheques keep coming in the mail, that’s all I’ll ever care about it.”

“Are you… are you sure?” The incredulity in Kane’s voice never ceased to break Jim’s heart all over again. Even after all this time in Jim’s home, it was like the vampire expected him to become as grotesque as the hunters.

“I’m sure.” Say it until you believe it. “It’s in the past now. For me, and for you.”

“I can handle the pain,” Kane choked out, tears coming in thick now. “I can, I swear. It’s the least I deserve, to try and understand…”

“No. I mean it. You’ve been through enough; no, we’ve both been through enough. The book is a paycheck, that’s it: it’s not a part of any fucked-up penance you think you deserve. I don’t want you to read it.”

“Okay. I understand, Jim.” The pain in Kane’s voice was still heavy, but Jim could bear it now. So long as the vampire was willing to back down, rather than spiral into a panic, they were making progress.

“Alright.” Another smile on Jim’s lips, this one feeling slightly more real. “As long as we’re on the same page – no pun intended.”

For the first time in almost two days Kane let out a sound that resembled a chuckle. He still didn’t meet Jim’s eyes, but that was okay. This is how their life was now. Baby steps, one day at a time.

“How about we get the kitchen properly cleaned up?” Jim offered, trying to brighten his tone. He couldn’t be jovial, not with his heart thundering so fast and the weight of the conversation on his shoulders, but he tried nonetheless. “I know Laken and Liz try to be good guests, but they never put the glasses back in the right spot.”

“Yes! I can do that.” Kane was still wiping tears from his cheeks, but his enthusiasm was impossible to miss. There was no mistaking his relief at being granted a task, one that he’d been praised for before.

Without another word, Kane darted off towards the kitchen on light feet, the jacket relaxed a touch across his shoulders.

Jim followed after him, trying not to think about the advanced readers’ copies of the book that sat in his attic.

[somevillainfuckery]

THE SPLITS RAAAA

In the process of attempting to make a Banana Splits AU while like- working on a bunch of other shit lmao Heres what I got :P - the Banana Splits started basically like something similar to the losers club from IT. They're really great friends to the point, doesn't matter who asks, they insist that they're brothers. - read on the wiki that they smoke marijuana. I'm keeping that. - The Splits mostly concerts, but will also do random little shows here and there too. Sometimes it's just innocent silly shenanigans, but if older audiences request it, they'll do more horror and gore-filled shows! - Snorky has a bit of a temper. And can also speak english when high as a goddamn kite - Fleegle has attacked several mailmen from the BULLSHIT he has to deal with from the mailbox - Something is clearly wrong when an entire week passes and Fleegle hasn't gotten hurt once - Despite Bingo being the biggest member of the Splits, Drooper is the strongest - Drooper canonically says "yee-haw" in this AU /j [only on rare occasions] - Fleegle has chased down and hit the splits with his big ass gavel on several occasions - Bingo is the dumbest of the splits- but he means well. - Drooper sometimes forgets he's a lion since he.. doesn't exactly look like a lion. - Snorky is still always getting blamed for things that Drooper did [another thing I read on the wiki, forgive me] - Snorky is Snorky. Nobody knows what to call them. They won't give answers. Who needs a gender anyways? - Bingo has broken several things, both on stage, and in the Banana Splits clubhouse. - Fleegle will indeed growl like a feral dog when annoyed or pissed off - Snorky has a scar on their trunk from when Fleegle accidentally bit them - The Splits CAN cuss- they just don't do it around others. - Other "animatronic" franchises exist, they're all rivals. Everyone gets along to shit on Pandory though. [stupid ass panda lmao] - I don't really include the animatronic bit though. They are all living creatures with blood n stuff. Thats just the norm for this universe. - Stevie is alive! Everyone is for a matter of fact! [except Mitch, but something else that wasn't the Splits happened to him.] Andy chose NOT to cancel the show because the splits indeed almost went ape-shit - Though nothing from the movie actually happens, Bingo did get into an accident while out and about driving the banana buggy. He did end up without an arm, but just covers up his prosthetic with fake fluff. - Snorky isn't actually their name. Their actual name is just Snork, but they didn't like it, so the Splits always call them Snorky or Snorkster. - Only the Splits can joke about their own chubbiness, or anything else about themselves. Don't insult the Splits- it's not nice :( . . . and you'll also immediately need to run from Fleegle. - Despite being such close friends, if you couldn't already tell, they do argue a lot. - They're all runaways. They all ran in the earlier years of their club- Wanted adventure n stuff, plus as I mentioned, its something similar to the losers club, so they were also tryna get away from the town assholes. Stupid kids doing stupid stuff. There was a moment they realized they couldn't do much on their own, thats when Karl found them. They see Karl as a guardian and a close friend. - They know about Hooty, they just don't know much about her. Fuzzy memories, and a blurred face, nothing else. For now they just consider her a missing Split. That's basically it for now, might change things a bit, and of course I'll add to it in the future.

[dramatisperscnae]

(For Kyle)

In his mailbox would be a large, very carefully packaged Manila envelope. It'd arrived by snail mail, covered in stamps of silly cartoon hearts, sillier yellow faces and a few fumming angry faces.

There's no return address.

Inside? A large, vintage print of an older, pin up style painting of a young pilot in the nude, pale ass pointed to the viewer as he started climbing into his jet with a cheeky smile on his face. It's lovingly rendered, but the print itself is older and yellowed.

The pilot in question? He looks suspiciously like Hal Jordan, even if the angle doesn't reveal his whole face.

There's a note that falls to the ground. Barely the size of a business card. Thick, textured ivory paper with embedded instead of simply printed.

"For the art before. -J"

The envelope gets a confused look, Kyle staring at it on his way up to his apartment. He hasn't been expecting any deliveries, or really any mail at all, but this thing's decorated like a kid sent it. Cartoon hearts, emoji stickers and stamps, all without any real rhyme or reason. It's kinda cute, actually, but completely mystifying.

Who does he know who has a kid who'd do this?

No one that he can think of.

Huh.

Opening the envelope only deepens the mystery. The print is, quite frankly, beautiful. Kyle can't help but admire the skill that had gone into the artwork, wishing with a brief pang that he could actually see the original. The lines of the jet are clean, the pilot's curves elegantly rendered, his body lean without being thin, muscular without being bulky, beautifully toned, the positioning leaving just enough to the imagination to be cheeky and suggestive without being overtly sexual…

God, it's gorgeous, really. Definitely suitable for framing. Which he might. Hang it in his studio, maybe; it deserves to be displayed.

He's so intent on studying and admiring the artwork, in fact, that he actually completely misses the card that came with it for a full five minutes. Then he stares at it for a minute or two, even more thoroughly confused. The art before what? J? Okay, who does he know whose name starts with J?

John? Probably not his style. J'onn? Definitely not his style. Anyone else? That one kid, Jason? Why the hell would Jason send him something like this? After bouncing all over the multiverse together with Donna, Jason had seemed only too happy to see the back of him.

Shaking his head, Kyle starts for his studio. He'll have to find a good frame for the print, at any rate, whoever sent it.

[rollercoasterwords]

Wolfstarbucks (Remus/Sirius/James) for the ask game!!

have i not already answered this one? i feel like i have i have certainly! been running around asking everyone else for their thoughts BUT it appears i have only alluded to j/r/s in the j/r + j/s posts so!!

yes absolutely <3

1. why

look i have said it before and i'll say it again i simply love a messy tangled awful little web and that's what these three give me!! like god they are already so in love with each other...honestly it is no great leap for me to see it. i know a lot of people can only see j + s as a sibling relationship but that is not the case for me!! the characterization can very much go either way imo and when i do see people writing j/r/s it really does just make complete sense to me. those boys were all in love with each other one way or another

2. favorite things

honestly where to begin!! i just feel like there is SO much opportunity for angst and mess. you can have these boys bouncing around like pinballs bumping into each other and falling apart u can have stretches of unrequited pining u can have the confusion of falling in love with both of ur best friends and figuring out how to make it work just !!! ohhhh and don't even get me started on like. canon-adjacent or even canon-compliant first war angst like GOD. i just feel like there is so much opportunity for creativity with this ship. honestly i should start reading more fic w it i think i may be entering my j/r/s era my friend shared a lovely j/r/s fic w me that i plan to read on my vacation which i already KNOW will destroy me based on a few paragraphs so!! mailbox is open for j/r/s fic my dears if anyone has recs although my reading list is already a mile long...for them i will add more <3

3. unpopular opinions

i mean again i feel like this can be a contentious ship in and of itself although i have been informed by friends that i apparently missed the Prongsfoot War of 2021 which...thank god for that!!! and i mean of course it might not be the most popular to say i want a healthy dose of angst in my j/r/s fic but....well what can i say boys a man can't survive on fluff alone!! gotta put some meat on these bones somehow!!

[musings-of-miss-j]

I so hope you get your laptop back soon😭

this is so fucking funny to me 😭😭 a whole micro community of people waiting for me to regain my technological privileges is wild.

[fairfielduam]

Direct from the Director November News - 2022

We are pleased to announce that we have been accepted into the American Alliance of Museums Accreditation program! This is the first step toward full museum accreditation, the museum field’s mark of distinction, a high-profile, peer-based validation of our operations and impact. We have begun a self-study that the museum staff will work on throughout this academic year. Once that has been completed, a team of Peer Reviewers will be chosen to conduct a site visit at the museum in November-December 2023. At this visit, they will seek to determine if the museum is operating according to the highest standards and best practices of the museum profession, and, if so, will recommend to the national Accreditation Commission that we be accredited, the gold standard of museum excellence. We will learn of that determination in February 2024. It is very exciting to have begun this work!

We have had some wonderful recent donations to the collection that I would like to highlight for you today. Mary Morris - Class of '88 - donated two prints to the permanent collection in honor of her father, Edward J. Morris, Class of '60. She was inspired by our call for donations to our Black Art Fund, and responded with a charming woodcut by Ted Jones of a neighborhood bus stop.

She also donated a wonderful print by the Pop Art genius Red Grooms which cleverly includes an homage to many of Édouard Manet's most famous works.

Please don't miss our fall exhibitions [Out of the Kress Vaults: Women in Sacred Renaissance Painting and Gladys Triana/Beyond Exile], which are both coming to a close on December 17th! As you may know, the most expensive part of presenting fine art exhibitions is the cost of packing and shipping. The cost of a Renaissance painting exhibition like Out of the Kress Vaults (which requires custom crating for each artwork, as well as special requirements for shipping and handling) exacerbates this situation. What this means for our community is that it will be at least 5-7 years before there will be another exhibition of this type here at the museum. The last one - The Holy Name: The Art of the Gesu - Bernini and his Age was almost 5 years ago! The works in this show are exquisite - and include five masterpieces from the National Gallery of Art in Washington, D.C., including a painting of the Holy Family by idiosyncratic master El Greco. See them locally before they head home!

If you have already seen the Gladys Triana exhibition in the Walsh Gallery, don’t forget there is another venue full of her work awaiting your exploration! The Art Museum, University of Saint Joseph has a companion exhibition to ours entitled From the Female to the Infinite.

Finally, a little pop quiz!

Did you know that all of our exhibitions, events and programs are free and open to everyone?

Did you know that we livestream, and record every program that we can, and then post the recordings on our YouTube channel so that you can access them any time?

Did you know that all of our exhibition materials are available in English and Spanish? 

Don’t worry – this quiz wasn’t graded! But if have enjoyed any of our exhibitions or programs this year, please consider donating to our annual appeal (which will be arriving in your mailbox in the next few days). This will help us to continue to make all that we do accessible to everyone, free of charge. Thank you.

Wishing you an art-filled holiday season, Carey

Captions: Ted Jones, Bus Stop, 1994. Woodcut. Gift of Mary Morris '88, in honor of Edward J. Morris '60, 2022. Red Grooms, Manet/Romance, 1967. Etching Gift of Mary Morris '88, in honor of Edward J. Morris '60, 2022. El Greco, The Holy Family with Saint Anne and the Infant John the Baptist, ca. 1595-1600. Oil on canvas. National Gallery of Art, Washington, Samuel H. Kress Collection, 1959.9.4. Gladys Triana, Shadows XIV, 2017. C-print. Courtesy of the artist.

[brujacopal]

annoying myself again. im in such a weird place mentally and emotionally since being in the hospital and doing treatments since then. J was supposed to come see me today for halloween but their toxic & abusive mother wouldn’t let them. things have been like a rollercoaster. the bills are starting to show up in the mailbox. i just want to feel at home in the world. all i want is a sense of harmony and i will grow it out of the earth myself if i have to… i miss J. so much.

[mysterystarz]

Aaaah it’s now time to ‘formally’ welcome you back-

WELCOME BACK ON TUMBLR NOVAAA :)))

you literally just saw me yesterday but

THANK YOU NAT <333

[ranty-ramblestein]

(captions~) Jun 30th: Damn, Apple sure is overflowing with letters to keep!  I mean, Croissant’s mailbox is also pretty full.  It’s at 200-something out of the max 300. I also found a lost item that Cyd’s gnome had stolen... and it was indeed Cyd’s journal.  Time to scold a gnome ig /j

...Wait, it’s the final day of Pride Month, but I never put Croissant in a rainbow outfit!  Damn.

Jul 3rd: Oh no!  Croissant caught the tail end of Apple and Mint’s first fight :( They were both depressed... (The next day, Apple threatened to move out, ack!)

Jul 4th: The closest cranky next to today’s lost item was Cyd, so I talked to him and... How did he not notice the pouch from there!?  (Granted, Croissant was kind of blocking his line of sight in that first image...)

In return Croissant got a tape deck.  It was black, and Cyd’s missing a music player at the moment, so I gifted it back to him, getting a dress shirt in return.  That one didn’t need to be returned, heh.  Hopefully he replaces the bandanna... but he does have an empty table behind his bed.

Jul 5th: Cyd did indeed replace the bandanna, yay~

It was also New Outfit Tuesday, so Croissant got an outfit that makes me think of a receptionist.  The Idle-Tool was almost gonna be the literature book so he’d be a bored receptionist, but I went with the dark green umbrella instead.  I’m not sure this was a successful outfit though; It seems like a bit of a mess.

pic 1: "Aww, Mint!" Croissant smiled. pic 2: Yup, this was indeed Cyd’s.  (”Looks like it’s time to scold a thieving Gnome...” Croissant frowned.  “You’ll never take me alive!” Croissant bobbed the gnome up and down like a child making a toy talk.) pic 3: Oh Apple /definitely/ got into the Idol scene and bought 20 of the same CD for handshake tickets /j pic 4: "Oh, I wonder who-"  (It's Cyd, Cyd dropped something close to himself and abandoned it once again...) pic 5: He gifted me a black tape deck in return, but I still have a bandana to get off his floor! he also has a table with nothing on it tho, so I'm not sure where it'll go! He needs a music player tho. pic 6: "Yeah, adults that say that are lame!" Croissant laughed. pic 7: This sweater is called green, but it looks more blue green... Not sure if this was a successful outfit, really. pic 8: I stuck with the dark green and black focus colors though, so the Nook Inc. umbrella won the Idle-Tool contest~ pic 9: My hopes were fulfilled~