#I mean the Vonnegut thing alone

[jonathanbyersphd]

Respectfully, I just know Jonathan Byers is an English Lit hoe. Like have you seen him? He's one choice away from giving you an in-depth analysis of The Grapes of Wrath at all times.

[illdowhatiwantthanks]

Emily Prentiss x Reader Headcanons

Mostly SFW, but a few lil spicy ones throughout (below the line).

Chews on pens/pencils when she's anxious or deep in thought and it's inexplicably hot.

Has a glass of very nice, very expensive red wine every night.

Fluent in Arabic, French, Spanish, and Italian. Passable in Russian.

Seems quiet and mysterious at first but is actually just a huge dork.

Breaks down crying every time before starting her period and will say, "I'm sorry, I don't know why I'm so emotional today," and you're like... "Babe, don't you start tomorrow?"

Usually a no-strings-attached-sex kind of person, mostly because relationships are hard with her job. You're the exception.

Will fold like a wet napkin for nice chocolate.

Notorious for ghosting lol. Sometimes even used a fake name. A bad habit from her undercover days.

Not subtle at all when coming on to you. Pretty much asked you for a date out of the blue.

Loves that you can talk about the deep, dark stuff, but can also make her laugh like no one else.

If for any reason you wake up in the night–stomachache, nightmare, scary storm–she is up with you. She'll claim she can't sleep either, but really she just wants to hold you and make sure you get back to sleep okay.

Watches you breathe at night. She finds it deeply comforting.

Takes you once a year to her grandfather’s cottage in the French Alps, where she spent a lot of time growing up.

Grew up Catholic. She’s not religious anymore, but sometimes she still likes to listen to old hymns and chants, like they had at the mass she and her mom attended in Italy.

Opens every door for you always. In fact, she’ll be hurt if you don’t let her open the door.

An incredibly good listener. She loves hearing about your day, no matter how mundane it was, because her days are usually filled with the darkest, most horrific things.

Has two tattoos. (1) On her ankle. A word from the Qur’an (لِّتَسۡكُنُوۡۤ) that roughly translates to “that you may find tranquility.” She got it in Italy when she started to realize she liked girls, because girls were the only people in whom she ever found tranquility. (2) On her hip. A small asterisk a la Kurt Vonnegut.

Insanely protective. She will not let anyone touch you, say anything to you, even look at you with nefarious intentions.

Has a little note on her phone where she writes down your favorite things–takeout, flowers, ice cream flavors, the brand of tampons you use–so she'll always remember.

“Call me when you get there.” Has to know where you are at all times. You gave up arguing and just constantly have your phone location shared with her. It’d be suffocating except that, given her job, it makes sense.

Loves that you are so independent. She’s watched too many BAU relationships fall apart because their partner was frustrated with the demanding BAU work schedule. You don’t really mind. Of course, you miss her, but you also really like your alone time, so things balance out nicely.

Puzzle fiend. There’s almost always a puzzle going on the coffee table.

Queen of leaving people on read. It’s nothing personal, it’s just that texts usually fall by the wayside when she’s in the field.

Secretly loves it so much when you brag about her. She’ll act all embarrassed about it, but it means a lot that you’re proud of her.

A hipster in the sense that if something is popular, she automatically decides she doesn’t like it. You make fun of her a lot for this.

Falls in love with you every time she notices one of your little gestures–having a second go-bag packed and ready at all times, doing the laundry, packing little granola bars in her purse because you know she forgets to stop for lunch, returning books to the library for her, etc.

Incredibly stubborn. Thankfully, you are, too, so you’re well-matched. On the downside, sometimes it takes forever to make a decision because neither of you are willing to back down.

Swears like a sailor when she’s not at work.

Kind of quiet with other people, but will talk with you late into the night, until you fall asleep. You love that you get to fall asleep to her voice.

Touches you like you’re made of gold, like you were made to be cherished and held on to.

Cheek/nose/forehead kisses. all. the. time.

Kisses you good morning and good night, every time, no matter when she gets home or when she leaves.

You would never guess it, but she lives for gossip. She doesn’t want to be part of the drama, but she sure as hell wants to know about it.

Drives her wild (in bed and out) that you are 100% hers. It is not in your nature to cheat, you are wholly devoted to your person, and she is over the moon that she’s that person.

Acts like a top, is a top.

Can drink coffee at midnight and be conked out twenty minutes later.

After a particularly hard case, she’ll come home and want to just hold you really tight against her chest, sometimes for an hour or more. You always let her.

Big spoon, always. She likes to feel like she’s keeping you safe.

Favorite food is the sweet potato burrito from Muchas Gracias, but they only have them at lunch and she is never in DC at lunchtime, so sometimes you go buy her one and pack it for her for lunch the next day. It makes her day every time.

Honestly it’s a struggle when you have to get up before her because she has you in a ninja death grip that is almost impossible to get out of.

Her feet are always cold, so she has a huge collection of fuzzy socks.

Movie buff. Has a giant checklist of all the Oscar noms during awards season, and you watch one almost every night she’s home.

Loves to shower with you. You will get clean, but you’ll get fucked first.

A wizard with a wand (iykwim).

She still gets butterflies when you hold hands.

[deancaspinefest]

Another Kind of Memory

Author: FriendofCarlotta | Artist: Aggiedoll

Posting on Wednesday March 20

Since a traumatic incident six years ago, Castiel Novak’s face has been disfigured by a scar. He’s resigned himself to being someone people can barely stand to look at, let alone love. Except his heart doesn’t seem to have gotten the message. When Dean Winchester takes over the convenience store down the street from Castiel’s bookshop, Castiel falls helplessly in love with his new neighbor. To make matters worse, Castiel’s sister Anna is also interested in Dean. Believing that Dean could never love him, Castiel decides to help Anna win his heart instead.

Keep reading for a sneak preview!

“Hey,” Dean says. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. Just… wanted to say hi.”

“Oh. Hi,” Castiel says, one hand fluttering nervously down his face and across his hair in an attempt to ensure he’s looking presentable. The tips of his fingers catch on the ugly, jagged ridge of his scar, and he remembers that “presentable” stopped being an option six years ago. He clears his throat and arranges his face in the polite mask of a consummate customer service professional. “Anything I can help you find?”

“Um.” Dean looks uncertain now, as though it’s a question he wasn’t expecting — despite the fact that it’s easily the most predictable question one could be asked in a bookshop. “I don’t know. I was just gonna browse, I guess.”

This is the point in a customer interaction where Castiel would usually withdraw, because “I’m just browsing” is universal bookstore code for “leave me the fuck alone.” But Dean doesn’t give any sign of wanting to walk away. Instead, he simply hovers in front of Castiel’s armchair, eyes gliding aimlessly (and somewhat helplessly) across the shelves to his right.

“What sort of things do you like to read?” Castiel finds himself asking, because it’s impossible not to take pity on a grown man who is capable of looking so bashfully lost.

“Anything,” Dean says. One of his hands flies to the back of his neck, rubbing at it. There’s something terribly endearing about the gesture — perhaps the fact that it makes him look like a boy who’s been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

Belatedly, it occurs to Castiel that it’s his turn to speak. His prolonged silence appears to have made Dean nervous, because he’s speaking again, a little too quickly to be altogether natural. “I know that sounds stupid. Like those people who say they like all kinds of music — which I don’t, by the way, just to be clear. Big classic rock fan. Zeppelin, the Stones. Metallica too, which I guess is classic rock these days and fuck, that’s kind of depressing. But, yeah. Anyway. Pretty much anything. Love Vonnegut and Kerouac, but I’ve read just about all their stuff. I’ll read sci-fi, horror, mysteries… actually, I guess I should say I read all kinds of fiction. Non-fiction kinda puts me right to sleep. My brother, Sammy, he’s a big fan though. Crazy about true crime for some reason.” Dean blows out a heavy breath. He abruptly seems to realize he’s scratching at his neck and lowers his arm back down, fingers twitching as if unsure what to do with themselves now. “You probably didn’t need to know all that, huh?”

“No, this is helpful,” Castiel says, getting up. “I’ll show you the layout of the store so you can see which shelves you might be most interested in.”

Somehow, Dean’s shyness makes him feel more at ease. When he first laid eyes on Dean, he thought someone as handsome as Dean must be a smooth and confident conversationalist. But he doesn’t seem to be, and somehow, that makes it easier for Castiel to hold up his own end of the conversation.

Or maybe it’s just that Dean doesn’t know how to talk to someone like Castiel. He wouldn’t be the first one.

(continue reading on Ao3 on Wednesday March 20)

[stonathandreamer]

Halloween

🔸 Masterlist

Synopsis: 'Come and get sheet faced,' they said. Jonathan attends Tina's Halloween party at Nancy's insistence, despite not wanting to go. What good can come out of a stupid party full of drunk teenagers?

Warnings: Has a little bit of Nancy bashing.

Jonathan sighed as he parked his car before Tina's house and exited. He did not want to be here. He did not want to attend this stupid party. He did not want to 'come and get sheet faced.' He was supposed to trick or treat with Will and his spazzy friends, return home by eight and go to his room to listen to Talking Heads or read Vonnegut. Sounds like a nice night, right? But no, Nancy insisted he attend this party. Jonathan sighed again. Nancy's cool. But she must learn that "no" means no.

Well, it's too late for that now. Jonathan's already here, so he might as well go inside, grab some snacks, say hi to Steve and Nancy, and then disappear before she starts bugging him to stay longer.

Jonathan groans under his breath, his hands inside his pockets, and walks towards the front door. God, he can hear the awful music coming from the inside and the foul stench of cigarettes from the people smoking on the porch. There's also guy vomiting in the azaleas in the front yard. And a couple making out in the same azaleas. How sweet.

With another heavy sigh, Jonathan opened the front door and entered the sea of people dressed in stupid costumes bobbing their heads alongside the song like a bunch of meerkats. Jonathan made a quick 360 of the area, trying to spot the food table, when Steve walked past him with a sour face and went to the backyard. He looked back at where Steve came from, the bathroom, and spotted Nancy stumbling away in the opposite direction, clearly drunk as a skunk, muttering something that sounded like "He's bullshit. It's all bullshit. Everyone's bullshit." Jonathan looked at her with a raised eyebrow, then at where Steve went, then back at Nancy.

He went after Steve.

Steve sat alone on the porch, his chin resting on his knees and his eyes looking at nothingness. He's silent, not muttering a single word nor exhaling a sigh. And for some reason, it bothered Jonathan to see him like that. Jonathan decided it was to make his presence known and approached Steve carefully and slowly, not knowing how the other boy would react.

"Uh... Hey, man. You alright?"

Steve turns his head to look at Jonathan, his brown eyes reflecting his current state of defeat and hurt. Still, Steve feigns a nonchalant attitude despite knowing he can't fool Jonathan.

"Yeah.. just great. Look at me, the King of Hawkins High, all alone and single. Again..."

Ah, sarcasm. The best alternative for moments like these, still, as expected, didn't fool Jonathan. He raised an eyebrow ever-so-slightly at the 'single again' comment. Did Steve and Nancy break up? That's unexpected but not entirely surprising.

"Again...? Did..." Jonathan looks back inside, then at Steve again, then inside again, and then back at Steve. "Did you... And Nancy got into a fight...?"

"Yup. Nancy was drinking too much while I told her to take it slow. I ended up spilling a drink on her by accident. She lashed out, called me 'bullshit'... Our relationship bullshit. Pretty sure she also blamed me for Barb's death for a sec..."

Steve sighs and looks down at the cup in his hand. It still had some drink, but Steve was not in the mood for drinking, so he tossed the cup aside. Jonathan felt a pang of sympathy for him. Being called that by his own (ex?) girlfriend. That's tough.

"Shit... I'm. I'm sorry, Steve..." Jonathan says as he looks around, uncomfortable. He never had a problem trying to cheer people up before, but usually, the 'people' he needs to cheer up are his brother and mother. Steve is on a different level, and Jonathan doesn't want to say something wrong and make this situation even worse and more awkward. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"I don't know what to talk about. It's just the same thing every time," Steve lets out a sigh of annoyance, "I don't understand what Nancy wants from me. I'm not the same guy I was a year ago. I've changed. You've seen it, right?"

Steve looks at Jonathan and makes eye contact with him. He looks at Jonathan expectantly, his eyes almost pleading, like he's asking Jonathan if he's a better person now or still the same douchebag from before.

"Yeah, you changed... A lot. Honestly, if you hadn't changed I wouldn't be here talking to you. I'd be in a corner thinking, 'God, Steve's such a jerk.' But hey, as it turns out, you're a nice guy."

Jonathan attempts a joke to try and ease things up. That's what friends do when the other is feeling down, right? They joke around... Wait... Are he and Steve friends? Does he consider Steve a friend? Does Steve consider him a friend?

"... you think I'm a nice guy?" Steve smiled as he heard Jonathan complimenting him. "Like, you actually think that? For real?"

"Uh... Yeah, kind of. I mean, you saved Nancy and I from that monster, even though you didn't have to - we actually told you to run, but you came back," Jonathan takes a seat next to Steve - he has no idea why he did that, but his brain just told him to go and sit his ass next to the guy. "And you also went to apologize to me, which was nice too..."

"Well, I appreciate the compliments, man," Steve said as he scooted closer to Jonathan, his movements a mixture of voluntariness and involuntariness. "Never thought I would hear you say those things..."

"I guess I... Own you an apology too... For hitting you and... The pictures. I shouldn't have done that... Sorry."

"The picture stuff is fine. It's all in the past now," Steve chuckles a bit and playfully pokes at Jonathan's shoulder, "But the punches kinda hurt, man. Didn't think you had it in you."

"Good. I wanted it to hurt," Jonathan jokes back with a small, fond smile, "But seriously, I'm sorry about the punches..."

"It's alright... But you gotta admit, for you, those were pretty powerful punches. Never thought you had it within you, Byers. I'm impressed," Steve said jokingly, wrapping his arm around Jonathan, "But seriously, don't sweat it, man. It's all in the past now."

Jonathan's eyes widen when Steve's arm wraps around him, but surprisingly and for some unknown reason, he doesn't pull back from the touch. Steve chuckled at Jonathan's reaction and scooted closer, moving his arm from his shoulder to Jonathan's waist. He doesn't know why, but his brain is telling him to get closer. Jonathan's brain doesn't seem to be functioning properly either, since it just told him to put his arm around Steve's waist too - and his body complied. He extended his left arm and slowly wrapped it around Steve's waist.

Steve looked down, watching Jonathan's arm wrap around his waist, his heart racing for some weird reason. Jonathan's touch was surprisingly comforting and warm. It felt good. Something never felt before in life, but a good feeling nonetheless. It made Steve feel... Butterflies? Or something... in his stomach as his body felt warm against Jonathan's. It was a nice, calming feeling. Steve looked at Jonathan's face for a second. Huh, he never noticed the small moles near his jaw line or how his hair appears so soft, like a Shih Tzu's fur. Steve began to subconsciously play with Jonathan's hair with his other hand. And it does feel like a Shih Tzu's fur!

That made Jonathan's brain short-circuit and completely fry. The moment he felt Steve's hand in his hair, his eyes widened as if he were a cartoon character, and if he was, his heart would be pounding off his chest right now. There's this funny feeling in his stomach, like a bunch of butterflies inside him. What is this weird but good feeling?

Steve noticed the strange but adorable facial expressions Jonathan was making. He chuckled and ruffled his hair even more, his smile growing as Jonathan continued to make those silly faces. He thought it was cute... Wait, why the hell was he thinking Jonathan was cute?! It's weird, but it's also good, and if it's good, then it's not weird. Steve wasn't focusing on much at this point, but the feeling of Jonathan's arm still around his waist reminded him of the situation they were in. He pulled Jonathan closer to his body, their sides touching.

Is this a romantic moment? Should it be romantic? Or just two friends acting way too friendly for the parameters of the '80s? Jonathan's not sure. Not sure at all. But his brain, on the other hand, the damn thing rebooted and told Jonathan to 'return Steve's gesture.'

So he did.

He raised his other hand and slowly touched Steve's cheek with the tip of his fingers, feeling his soft, warm skin against his touch. Steve has so many moles on his face it's like he has the entire Hydra constellation on his skin.

Steve blushed when he felt Jonathan touch his cheek. His heart pounded within his chest like a drum while his breath hitched in his throat. He slowly moved the hand in Jonathan's hair to Jonathan's face, holding Jonathan's cheek so that now they were both holding each other's face, their bodies touching, both blushing like crazy and looking at each other's eyes. Their pairs of warm, brown eyes.

Okay, now what? Are they supposed to the thing where their lips touch - also known to the modern world as 'kissing'?! That would be weird, right? Yes, definitely, but Jonathan's brain - that blasted thing - told him to go for it.

So he did.

"Steve..." He leaned his face closer to Steve's as he whispered his name, trying to ask him if it was alright to do it - or if this was real and not some weird ass hallucination.

Feeling Jonathan's lips close to his own and hearing Jonathan whisper his name made Steve lean in closer to the other boy. At that moment, he didn't care who saw them or what people would think. There's only one thing going through his mind - Jonathan Byers and how close his lips were to his own. Steve exhaled a shaky breath and looked at Jonathan with a hopeful look, begging whichever supreme force rules the universe to make Jonathan kiss him.

"Jonathan..."

Damn why does Jonathan's name sound so cool when Steve says it? It's like music to his ears, a heavenly melody that makes The Clash's songs sound shitty. Jonathan leaned closer and in slow motion, part of him feeling reluctant about kissing Steve, but his heart was shouting to 'GO FOR IT, BYERS!'

So he went for it.

Jonathan's shy lips finally made contact with Steve's, and he knew his brain fried for good - burned down to a crisp. When Jonathan's lips made contact with his, Steve felt like he was on fire. Every thought of Nancy and all the bad things that happened to him this past year vanished, and the only thing on his mind was the gorgeous man in front of him. Steve slowly wrapped both his arms around Jonathan and pulled him as close as he possibly could, deepening the kiss and moving his lips against Jonathan's. It was a feeling beyond any words Steve could think of. The best way to describe's like Heaven itself came down to Earth in the form of Jonathan's lips because, damn, Steve had never kissed a pair of lips so warm and soft as Jonathan's - as he had his fair share of kissings and making outs. But kissing Jonathan was different than kissing some girl he met at a party or Nancy. It felt right.

Jonathan, though still shy, took his hand off Steve's waist and moved it up to rest on his hair. And damn, his hair is soft, like the fur of a golden retriever puppy. Steve hummed into Jonathan's mouth at the contact of Jonathan's hand on his hair, bringing his hand up to Jonathan's hair and messing it up a bit for the second time that night, but neither complained, both of them too occupied by the most perfect kiss in the history of kissing to care.

When they finally broke apart from the kiss - because air is needed, much to their dismay - Jonathan kept his forehead pressed against Steve's as he looked right into his soft brown eyes - even his eyes are like the ones of a golden retriever puppy. As Jonathan softly gasped for air, the corners of his lips twitched up in a ghost of a smile.

"So... Uhm... Do you want to do something next weekend with me? Like, going to the movies or... Out for pizza?"

Jonathan asks, feeling a bit shy about asking Steve out. Hell, he has no idea how this dating stuff works. But thankfully for him, Steve smiles at his question, finding Jonathan's shyness adorable.

"Yeah, I'd love to go out with you, Jonathan. You pick up the place and hour, and I'll pick you up. And no, this is not up for debate. I'm picking you up."

Jonathan was going to protest, but he knew Steve's stubbornness was as tough as the Great Wall of China - not that Jonathan isn't, but Steve's worse than him - so he doesn't bother. Instead, Jonathan glances at his watch and lets out a low curse.

"Shit. I need to pick up Will at Mike's. They're out for trick or treating. Sorry..."

Steve nods, feeling sad that Jonathan's leaving but understanding he needs to pick up his little brother.

"Alright, you do that. I'll see you later, then... Jon."

"Yeah, right. See you later... Stevie."

Jonathan moved closer to give Steve a goodbye kiss but stopped midway, not knowing if it was the proper thing to do or not. Steve rolls his eyes but can't help but smile at Jonathan's sudden halt, finding it cute and adorable - to be honest, everything Jonathan does is cute and adorable, and whoever says otherwise is dead wrong. He leans forward to complete the kiss, using his hand to gently caress Jonathan's cheek before breaking apart.

"Make sure to steal one of your brother's candies for me, alright? I like Reese's."

Jonathan chuckles at Steve's comment and shakes his head.

"Reese's are mine. You're getting a Snickers."

"Snickers, alright, my third favorite chocolate after Twix. I'll take it."

Jonathan laughs softly at Steve's words as he gets up and sends Steve one last smile and a wave before leaving the party. Steve watches Jonathan's every move until he's out of sight. He lets a soft sigh of contentment before getting up, dusting his pants, and deciding to leave. If Jonathan's not here, this party's not fun anymore.

He doesn't even bother looking for Nancy to ask if she needs a ride home. He's bullshit, isn't he? She can handle herself. Jonathan's the only one Steve can think of right now, and when he gets to his car and turns on the engine, Steve starts giggling like an idiot.

"Jonathan kissed me. I kissed Jonathan..."

Steve sighs again, a grin forming on his lips while thinking how long it will take for him to finally call Jonathan his boyfriend - hopefully not long.

[dious-chaos]

I've been deeply delving into Supernatural at the moment and I just put something together that I felt should be out in the interwebs.

Dean Winchester and his layers

Obviously we have the stuff everyone already knows right? He likes pie, he has anger issues, he feels overprotective of Sam. But Dean is actually incredibly intelligent yet downplays it for Sam (nothing against Sam cuz I love that man too) and everyone else, some examples of that: He made his own emf reader out of a cassette player and electromagnet from a microwave, he hacked/disarmed a museums security alarm, referenced Vonnegut; Homer; Lord of the Flies and Tolkien, watched and loved Star Trek, he plays dress up/cosplays/larps, etc. Dean was also the one who cared about holidays, trying so hard to give them to little Sammy, and being hurt when adult Sam wanted none of it. Dean had to take on the role of mom and dad for Sam his entire life, even going hungry so his little boy didn’t. He's an amazing cook, has crazy good mechanical skills, loves anything to do with music- karaoke, guitars on his wall, cassette to Cas- and Dean even had a career picked out which had nothing to do with hunting… he wanted to be a firefighter. Dean even took a teaching role as PE teacher in one episode when he could've picked anything else, that just builds a better image of the caring man Dean raised himself to be. Not to mention the fact that when Sam was in the cage with Lucifer Dean GOT OUT!! He wanted that apple pie life, the life he pushed Sam into his whole life because he knew only one of them would get that chance… and of course he'd want it to be his brother/son.

He grew up to hide his wants and dreams in order to please the man who only wanted a soldier, Dean even went so far as seeing his own life as less than Sam and pushing to die instead of the brother he took care of alone. Dean gained food insecurity, he never knew when he would get to eat and we see this throughout the show as he shoves any free food into his mouth like he'll never eat again. He also showed signs of CPTSD, a mental health condition that can develop if you experience chronic (long-term) trauma.

It involves stress responses, such as: Anxiety (maybe like how got scared and he immediately apologized after not shooting John, and then knew it wasn’t his father because the demon wasn’t upset), Having flashbacks or nightmares (post hell is the first thing that comes to mind), Avoiding situations (trying to keep the peace between Sam and John), places and other things related to the traumatic event (avoiding Lawrence KS for decades), Heightened emotional responses, such as impulsivity or aggressiveness (he gets really upset in difficult conversations first and then the other emotions come later), Persistent difficulties in sustaining relationships (come on, Dean is a ladies man).

Examples of chronic trauma include: Long-term child physical or sexual abuse (tell me that John didn’t physically abuse or "discipline" his boys), Long-term domestic violence (again.. Physical abuse by John), Being a victim of human or sex trafficking (not canon… but it could have happened in all the years his father neglected them and fucked off to fight the monsters while his own kids struggled to get by), War (hunter and monsters are at war), Frequent community violence (hunters and monsters alike can be POS). While CPTSD is often associated with chronic trauma in childhood, adults who experience chronic trauma can also develop the condition (which means it only gets worse for Dean as he gets older and doesn't get help for it).

So yeah. Dean deserved better than a piece of rebar at the ass end of Supernatural, that’s all..

[arataka-reigen]

I'm not putting Frankenstein in this list because I already made up my mind to participate in Frankenstein weekly anyway.

Again, I reserve the right to go against the results of this poll but I will still try to be faithful to it

Brief synopsis for each of these books if any of you are interested in knowing more about it (probably not, but, oh well):

Slaughterhouse-Five by Kurt Vonnegut: Centering on the infamous World War II firebombing of Dresden, the novel is the result of what Kurt Vonnegut described as a twenty-three-year struggle to write a book about what he had witnessed as an American prisoner of war. It combines historical fiction, science fiction, autobiography, and satire in an account of the life of Billy Pilgrim, a barber's son turned draftee turned optometrist turned alien abductee. As Vonnegut had, Billy experiences the destruction of Dresden as a POW. Unlike Vonnegut, he experiences time travel, or coming "unstuck in time."

On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous by Ocean Vuong is a letter from a son to a mother who cannot read. Written when the speaker, Little Dog, is in his late twenties, the letter unearths a family's history that began before he was born -- a history whose epicenter is rooted in Vietnam -- and serves as a doorway into parts of his life his mother has never known, all of it leading to an unforgettable revelation. At once a witness to the fraught yet undeniable love between a single mother and her son, it is also a brutally honest exploration of race, class, and masculinity.

The Witcher - The Last Wish by Andrzej Sapkowski (it's the witcher. idk what else to say)

Wayward Children - Every Heart a Doorway by Seanan McGuire: Children have always disappeared under the right conditions; slipping through the shadows under a bed or at the back of a wardrobe, tumbling down rabbit holes and into old wells, and emerging somewhere... else. But magical lands have little need for used-up miracle children. Nancy tumbled once, but now she’s back. The things she’s experienced... they change a person. The children under Miss West’s care understand all too well. And each of them is seeking a way back to their own fantasy world.

To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee: it views a world of great beauty and savage inequities through the eyes of a young girl, as her father--a crusading local lawyer--risks everything to defend a black man unjustly accused of a terrible crime.

All Tomorrows by Nemo Ramjet: The story begins in the near future, as burgeoning population pressures force humanity to terraform and colonize Mars. After a brief but violent civil war between the two planets, the genetically engineered survivors begin a new wave of colonization, spreading across the galaxy. Everything is looking up for the human race... until the colonies encounter the Qu, technologically advanced aliens on a religious mission to remake the universe. Although humans fight valiantly, the Qu easily overpower humanity; as punishment, the aliens decide to genetically modify the survivors, turning most of them into mindless, animalistic creatures before departing.

The Thing About Jellyfish by Ali Benjamin - After her best friend dies in a drowning accident, Suzy is convinced that the true cause of the tragedy must have been a rare jellyfish sting--things don't just happen for no reason. Retreating into a silent world of imagination, she crafts a plan to prove her theory--even if it means traveling the globe, alone. Suzy's achingly heartfelt journey explores life, death, the astonishing wonder of the universe...and the potential for love and hope right next door.

PJO - The Lightning Thief by Rick Riordan (reread) - This would be a reread, i'm gonna do it sooner or later, but you get to decide if i do it sooner than later.

[koukouture]

I need to stop bombarding our discord sever with my PGR OCs so now I am here!!! Because I don’t think I’ve ever posted abt Anna’s revamp here, despite the fact that I first made and shared her here. (This image isn’t entirely accurate, she’s drawn with a heart with a lock over her chest now)

As you can see, her design has changed a lot and so has her character as a whole tbh. She’s no longer just a self ship with Wata but she is still everybody’s older sister. Also I need to rant abt her because despite Qiu being my favourite, (to bully) I think Anna is the best written or at least the most creative.

The whole thing about Anna now is that she’s basically a Marina and the Diamonds song personafied (sort of) Whereas before she was a more tragic heroic figure + a hopeless romantic, now she’s got this loss of innocence thing going on.

Here are some doodles of her when she was still human

As you can tell, she was a ballerina as a human. The whole thing with Anna now is that she’s been dealing with being used by mainly older men since a young age. I remember I was going to go into it a little more into SA with her old frame, Marionette, but I scrapped it or it never got much attention

Anna’s reason for being a construct now is that she wants to separate herself from this demure, innocent image of a prima ballerina by becoming a soldier. She endured quite a bit assault in ballet due to her partner being a scumbag + body image issues from her creepy teacher. The creepy teacher thing is a personal thing aight bear with me for a bit.

About the whole SA and older men thing, it’s terrible but i felt the need to explore it a bit. It’s sad how girls grow up so much faster because men want them to, or how women stay girls because men like it. I keep thinking about thirteen year old Anna being given candy and being told she’s so mature for her age and unfortunately I think it’s something too many people can relate too.

Anna is also made to look like a doll. You know, a symbol of girlhood. But she’s also been sexualized. Yeah. Yeah, you know what I mean. Also something something metaphor for one’s own autonomy over themselves. And I just really like the ball joint look and pretty clothes leave me alone.

She gets pulled out of the red tide by Vonnegut and help with the Hetero Hive mother, it’s only during Evernight beat when she realizes her mistake and defects to Babylonia.

I almost considered her getting pulled out of the forbidden kool aid by the Luna ascendant gang, and it could have worked because Luna was also manipulated, used, and discarded and she’s like fifteen. So they would have a lot in common (+Alpha x Anna shipping fuel ngl I think they’d be cute together but I haven’t settled yet) But I think it’d be more symbolic of her to get manipulated by yet another man. I don’t think Vonnegut is creepy btw I just think he’s manipulative in general. Also if she were to be picked up by Luna Ascendant gang she would not join Babylonia because she would become attached to Luna and Alpha.

She gets her memories fucked over, but she still has some love for ballet. I like to think of her dancing with Bambinata and even teaching her a bit. OH also she makes her clothes out of panini virus so she gets to have a bunch of pretty outfits mwhahahahahaha designing hyper feminine clothes is my passion.

I’m usually a little iffy abt SA but I was targeted by my teacher/coach when I was younger so that’s where this comes from. Nothing ever happened, but I fear something would have if I didn’t move. He used to give me candy and talk to me in private and say how I was too mature for boys my age (I was 10-12 years old at the time) and likened me to a girl he had a crush on when he was in high school. Gross, right? There was also a time when he made a kiss joke but handed me the kisses chocolate instead. Yeah I hope he got booted. Oh yeah and he touched my ass once. And used to hold our waists in basketball to “position” us even when we said we weren’t comfortable with it. Sheesh I hope he got his teaching license revoked or got put on a sex offender list. And I hope his second wife left him too.

Alright I’m rambling now lmao byeeeeee

[ryanmeft]

Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes Movie Review

The fourth (of the new) Apes movies has things to say about power, trust and race. That’s nothing new: 9 out of 10 big studio movies try to throw in some sort of message about life. The difference here is that Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes does so with some craft and subtlety, so that we never feel we’re hit over the head with a particular statement. The things the characters do can be taken metaphorically, yes, but they are also functions of who they happen to be. They do things because they want or need to do them; how we interpret those things is somewhat up to us.

Noa with no H (Owen Teague) is the son of the chief of the Eagle Clan, a band of apes who raid eagle nests and raise the chicks as their own. In a thrilling opening sequence, he, along with best friend Anaya (Travis Jeffery) and love interest Soona (Lydia Peckham), climb precarious plateaus to high nests, and of course something goes wrong, re-establishing the tendency of the newer Apes movies towards literal high-stakes action. In some regards, what follows adheres to precedents set by the previous films. A feral human (Freya Allan) invades the Eagle Clan’s village looking for food, and on her escape accidentally destroys the egg Noa had collected. He sets out to replace it, alone, which goes about as well as expected: by the time Noa returns to his village, it is on fire, burned on the orders of Proximus (Kevin Durand). That would be a gorilla with designs on kingship who rules an empire made of wrecked and rusting ships.

There are secrets to be revealed, and callbacks to the previous films. In the realm of the latter, Caesar’s teachings have formed the basis of a Moses-like tradition among the Apes. Raka (Peter Macon), an orangutan who caries a medallion* marking him as an acolyte of Caesar’s true principles of peace between man and ape, befriends Noa on his quest to stop Proximus. Raka saves books and befriends humans. Proximus has other ideas: his concept of “apes together strong” means apes must dominate humans, and that all apes must serve him.

It is key to this character that he does not think he is twisting the truth or conning anyone---he really believes that his way is right. His goal is to get into a locked vault from the days of humanity’s dominance, the contents of which are a mystery. He believes what is inside will fuel ape evolution. He is backed up by a human accomplice (William H. Macy), who reads him Kurt Vonnegut and Roman History. He is in a long tradition of villainous leaders who believe themselves elevated because they indulge in superficial cultural activities. Macy is his obsequious pet, an obvious-but-effective metaphor.  

What makes a series like this not only work, but work across three directors? Wes Ball is the latest, and while his vision sort of melds with that of previous helmsman Matt Reeves, that is no bad thing. After three excellent previous entries, it is wise sometimes to stick to what works, and Ball and writer Josh Friedman choose to add new tweaks here and there to plotting and character rather than reinvent any wheels. The result will resonate with existing fans while providing a good inroad for new viewers, though the former will get the most out of it. It continues taking what was originally a fun-but-schlocky B-science fiction series and evolving it into something more.

Verdict: Highly Recommended

Note: I don’t use star ratings. Here are my possible verdicts:

Must-See

Highly Recommended

Recommended

Average

Not Recommended

Avoid Like the Plague

*bonus points if you recognize the design of the medallion

[imthefailedartist]

My 2023 Reading Stats

My goal was to read 12 books. I read 45 total!

I read mostly authors I'd never read before. I made a significant dent in my purchased TBR. I read 5 classics. I read 7 genres.

I checked out 3 books from my local library.

I did not finish 3 books. Les Liaisons Dangereuses, Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov, and Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy.

Reasons: LLD the two main characters were getting on my fucking nerves so bad. Valmont leave that woman ALONE! Also, the epistolary style does not make for active reading.

Lolita. I mean, take a wild guess.

AK. To many characters with the same name, I also signed up for one thing, but it's about a whole bunch of things.

I read the longest book I've ever read, Gone with the Wind. I thought it would take a year. Surprisingly, it took a month. December 22nd to January 22nd. I took four days off because the racism was getting on my nerves. I also sometimes just missed a day or two.

January

Loved: To Catch a Raven by Beverly Jenkins, The Wedding by Dorothy West, The Revenant by Michael Punke.

I refuse to say I loved this book, but I did enjoy reading it, a lot: Gone with the Wind by Margaret Mitchell

February

Loved: Their Eyes were Watching God by Zora Neale Hurston, The Women of Brewster Place by Gloria Naylor, If There be Thorns by VC Andrews, Barbarian Alien by Ruby Dixon.

Read: My Best Friend's Exorcism by Gravy Hendrix

March

Loved: Priest by Sierra Simone, Roses are Red by James Patterson

Read depressingly: The Stranger by Albert Camus

April

Loved: A Hero Ain't Nothin' but a Sandwich by Alice Childress, Moby Dick by Herman Melville. Big Bad Wolf by James Patterson

Read: In the Woods by Tana French

May

Loved: Whatever Happened to Baby Jane by Henry Farrell

Liked: Animal Farm by George Orwell, Candice by Voltaire

Read: The Proposal by Jasmine Guillory, The Talented Mr. Ripley by Patricia Highsmith

Hated: GOTH by Otsuichi. It was like reading an edgelords Wattpad writing.

This month was so Meh. Baby Jane came in at the end and saved it.

June

Loved: The Invisible Man by HG Wells, Seeds of Yesterday by VC Andrews

Liked: Northanger Abbey by Jane Austen, Devil in a Blue Dress by Walter Mosley, Violets are Blue by James Patterson

Read: The Body by Stephen King.

I have one Flowers in the Attic book left in looking into the other VC Andrews books, but none of them are calling me like Flowers. Maybe I'll read the one with the twins.

July

Loved: The War of the World's by H.G. Wells, An Offer from a Gentleman by Julia Quinn, London Bridges by James Patterson

August

Read: The Hallowe'en Party or A Haunting in Venice by Agatha Christie

Hated: The Other Black Girl by Zakiya Dalila Harris

September

Loved: I am Legend by Richard Matheson

Liked: The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde

October

Loved: Hannibal by Thomas Harris, Romancing Mister Bridgerton by Julia Quinn

Read: The Exorcist by William Peter Blatty

I have one Hannibal book left. What am I supposed to do for Halloween 2025?

November

Loved: An Unkindness of Ghosts by Rivers Solomon and The Song of Achilles by McAllen l Madeline Miller

Liked: The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath, The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde by Robert Louis Stevenson

December

Loved: Difficult Women by Roxane Gay

Liked: Slaughterhouse-Five by Kurt Vonnegut

Read: Marnie by Winston Graham.

The book I was looking forward to the most. It's one of my favorite movies. It was the book I just wanted to end. Also, I keep calling this author every name but his own. Winston Granton, William Granston, Graham Wilson.

[nerdsandthelike]

When the pandemic first hit, right in the first few weeks, when things were really fucking terrifying, the only thing I could possibly think of wanting to read was Kurt Vonnegut's Cat's Cradle. Vonnegut is up there with the pessimistic authors for a reason. If you haven't read Vonnegut before, I highly recommend it. He's weirder than the usual canonical authors in a way that a lot of people who hate "classics" like.

He's not a perfect author by any means. Cat's Cradle is pretty horribly racist. And I don't want to ignore that.

But he survived the firebombing of Dresden in World War II, which was a pretty horrific event. And he wrote about it in Slaughterhouse 5, his most famous novel. There are also aliens. And like... kind of the plot to the movie Arrival?

But the point is that Vonnegut had gone through some shit and did not come out brimming with optimism. Cat's Cradle is about a thing (not a disease, but it's hard to explain) that basically kills all life on Earth. And in March 2020, I didn't need a story about triumph. I've read a lot of those and found them really meaningful. But in that moment I needed something to tell me, with Kurt Vonnegut's brusque empathy, that I was not alone in feeling helpless and small and scared in the face of an apocalypse.

hey guys, i solved it! optimistic fiction and pessimistic fiction have the same moral value! we’ve done it! we’re free

[books]

Writer Spotlight: Ryan North

Ryan North (@ryannorth) is a New York Times-bestselling and Eisner-winning writer who once messed up walking his dog so badly it made the news. His recent work includes the nonfiction How To Invent Everything, the semi-fictional graphic novel adaptation of Kurt Vonnegut's Slaughterhouse-Five, and the so-far-fictional Unbeatable Squirrel Girl series for Marvel. Ryan lives in Toronto, where he writes for video games, television, and his long-running webcomic Dinosaur Comics. We chatted with him about his new book, How to Take Over the World: Practical Schemes and Scientific Solutions for the Aspiring Supervillain. Be sure to click through to the end for dinosaurs.

So, what made you want to create a guide to taking over the world? What makes you qualified to be taking on this very important public service?

I've been writing superhero comics for Marvel and DC for years, and part of the job is coming up with these big ambitious charismatic plots for the villains to pull off (throwing your enemies into the sun, digging a hole to the Earth's core, becoming immortal, that sort of thing). I thought it would be fun to explore how credible they are here in the real world, where we don't have things like shrink rays and mind-control helmets. So really, it's a book exploring the edges of science and technology through the lens of comic book supervillainy.

That, and I think having a book in your house with "HOW TO TAKE OVER THE WORLD" on the spine is inarguably awesome.

Who is this book for? What makes an aspiring supervillain?

One thing I kept in mind when writing the book is that I always wanted to talk about super-crime, big huge heists that have never been done before, rather than the stuff that happens routinely here in the real world. Robbing a bank is normal crime. Stealing a bank is when you get into the fun space of super-crime.

There are a couple reasons for that: real-world villainy is horrible and dehumanizing, and I'm absolutely not qualified to write about it, but the idea of trying to pull off comic book super-crime in the real world is interesting and fun, and I am absolutely willing and able to think those plots through to their logical conclusions. You want a secret base? Terrific, but you're going to need a way to keep it secret—so let's look at the challenges of living long-term at sea, or underground, or underwater, or in space, or on Mars, etc. And henchpeople require air and food and water—so now we need to think about farming in these conditions and generating power to support all of that. But really, the biggest challenge is that people also get weird and sad when locked alone together, so let's lock eight people in a room together for two years and see what happens, by which I mean, let's study the IRL Biosphere 2 experiment where they did precisely that, and everyone went more than a little crazy. As soon as you take these plots seriously and start thinking things through to their logical conclusions, a lot of really interesting science and history and sociology falls out.

In the book, I define supervillainy as when someone outside existing power structures accomplishes something that's not getting done on its own. The fun thing about that is that the exact same definition applies to superheroes. So really, it's for anyone who wants to learn more about the world around them through this fun fictional lens, and especially those who have read the news and thought, "You know what? I could do it better."

Given a choice, which scheme would be your preferred mode of world domination, and why?

There's a chapter where we look at the problem of immortality, which sounds like complete fantasy until you look at all these tech bros who desperately don't want to die and are spending fabulous amounts of money on trying to delay it for as long as possible, or even indefinitely. We look at the actual science of aging and the technologies people are trying to develop to stop it, but for me, the most interesting part happens when you say, "okay, so assume any of this works. What then?"

Put aside the fact that very few people would look at our planet with seven billion people on it and say, "You know what? This world needs more people. Oh, and they should never die." Also, put aside the fact that death is a safety valve on human civilization, where even the worst people we've ever produced can't hang on to power forever because they too will die. The real issue is whether you put your chips on cryonics or uploading your brain to a computer or cloning or telomere extension or whatever. These are all medical or technological interventions, which means they all cost money—and the second you have an immortality scheme that costs money, you've created this almost cartoonish dystopia where rich people get to live forever, and poor people don't. I don't see a way around it—immortality is something that would absolutely be horrible for both the planet and for us as a civilization.

But!

If you're the only one who's immortal—if you discover it and hide it from the world and never share your technology, then all those issues just disappear. Now immortality is just this fun thing you're doing, and the rest of the world doesn't have to suffer. You get all the benefits of living indefinitely, learning more than the rest of us ever will, and nobody else has to suffer! For me, that's the peak supervillain mindset: wanting to make the world a better place but ending up helping only yourself. That's the scheme in the book I'd do. Not take over the place, but just...stick around and watch it for a lot longer.

What's your writing process like? How do you merge the scientific bits with the fun bits?

When I'm writing, I'm also reading, so I'm always trying to keep myself entertained. If it was boring to write, it'll be boring to read! And when I'm re-reading, I'm always looking for ways to keep it funny. I believe we learn so much easier when we're having fun, so that's what I'm always trying to hit.

That said, my process is to write alone where nobody can see me because when I'm writing jokes, the only way to know that they're working is if I make myself laugh, and it's so embarrassing to be that guy at the coffee shop who's typing and then pausing to laugh out loud at his own stuff. Just mortifying. I, therefore, write in an empty room to hide from the shame of my craft, lol.

What does the Tumblr of an aspiring supervillain look like? What's it called? What does it contain? Are they vocal about their super-villainy, or are they more of a lurker?

Okay, so Doctor Doom's Tumblr is clearly full of reblogs with his self-aggrandizing additions in the tags, and he's probably got a macro to type out "#FOOLS!!" because he uses it so often. He's also always starting fights with strangers and secretly proud when a post he started gets a ton of notes because Doom conquers all.

On the other hand, someone like Poison Ivy definitely has this really beautiful, well-curated feed. She fills it with some really compelling environmental arguments and gorgeous pictures of her plants. You probably wouldn't even notice she's a villain until she takes over Gotham with giant venus flytraps that can also walk around somehow.

And finally, someone like the Riddler just has the worst Tumblr in existence, auto-playing midi files and sparkles that follow your cursor around, except the sparkles are question marks. It's filled with old memes, and he keeps posting bad riddles that you can easily Google the answers to, and it's pretty clear he got them off Google too.

These are my correct opinions.

How do you get someone to publish a book that incites world dominance?

Haha, well, I don't expect anyone to actually do any of the schemes in the book—mainly because I priced them all out, and you need 56 billion dollars, all in, just to start! But the real answer is that using a fictional lens to explore actual nonfiction is something that works. It's a fun thought experiment!

Can you talk about working with illustrator Carly Monardo?

Carly is the best, and I was so pleased to work with her on this. Basically, I'd call her up, and I'd talk about the chapter and what I thought an illustration could be for various parts, and she'd say, "okay, but what about this idea instead" and come up with something way better.

It was her idea to have a single supervillain recur throughout the book—so as you're learning these plots, this character's doing them right alongside you, and you have this companion throughout. She's so great (both Carly and the supervillain we came up with), and her work totally elevates the book.

That said, in the end, I asked her what we should name our new supervillain, and she said, "Patricia." And I said, "Why?" and she said, "So that her full name is Patricia Chaddams," and I said "Why?" and she said, "So then, for short, her name is Pat Chaddams," and I said "Huh?" and she said, "So that way it sounds like the 1998 Robin Williams vehicle Patch Adams." So uh, I suppose you take the good with the bad.

What's the best piece of advice you've ever received as a writer? Do you have any advice for budding writers of humorous science-based nonfiction?

In comics, the best advice I ever got was "your fundamental unit of story is the page," which means to always keep in mind how it'll work when it's printed and in someone's hand and how turn-the-page reveals work. But when you're writing prose, that doesn't apply because you don't (usually) know where on the page your words will land!

My best advice for people interested in science writing, science communication, or really any sort of writing is this: read outside your genre. People who only read comics end up writing comics that sound an awful lot like the comics that already exist. People who only read nonfiction write nonfiction that's also very samey. But when you read stuff that doesn't typically cross over, you're seeing stuff that others aren't, and you can start drawing connections nobody else is seeing. Don't turn your nose up at other genres just because they're not what you normally read or write. I would much rather read a sci-fi novel from someone who's read a ton of steamy romance novels than someone who's only read a bunch of other sci-fi novels, you know?

Who's your favorite supervillain of all time?

Doctor Doom. He's a scientist who wears a metal suit, and he knows magic. Plus, he's got a cape. What's not to like?

After perfecting schemes to take over the world, what's next for you?

Keep writing Dinosaur Comics (@qwantzfeed baby!) and hopefully keep getting to write weird little books that get to do things like "take an absurd premise absolutely seriously." It's my new favorite genre.

[darcyfangirlsfrequently]

We Fell in Love in October, chapter 12 - October 12th: Happy Birthday (The Second Saturday)

For @gaelic-symphony

Summary: Emily turns 18

Chapter word count: 816

Total word count: 13,717

Can also be read here on Ao3

Emily Prentiss woke up on her 18th birthday in her girlfriend's arms. She had come over after Homecoming, and they were so exhausted that they practically had to fight to stay awake to get out of their dresses and into their pyjamas and washed off their makeup. They fell asleep in Tara’s bed and woke up feeling so completely warm and content.

“Happy birthday,” Tara whispered into Emily’s hair. 

Emily looked up at Tara and received Good Morning, Happy Birthday kiss. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“Why the fuck did you agree to have a party at Penelope’s the day after homecoming?”

“Because she wouldn’t take no for an answer and I knew my mom was going to be out of town and I didn’t want to be alone on my birthday. I didn’t anticipate this.”

Tara held her tighter. “Well, here I am. You want breakfast, or do you want to stay in bed a little bit longer?”

Emily nestled her face into the crook of Tara’s neck.

“Well, I guess that answers that question.”

They eventually dragged themselves out of bed, and Tara started making pancakes. “I can help,” Emily said.

“Absolutely the fuck not,” Tara told her. “It is your birthday, which means you are not allowed to work even the tiniest bit. I am making you birthday pancakes, now sit down.”

They ate their breakfast, got ready, and then Albert drove them to Penelope’s. “Why aren’t you having this party at your house again?” Tara asked.

“Dave and Penelope offered,” Emily explained. “And you really think I’m the kind of person who turns down a birthday party at a mansion? You’ve seen the parties Dave’s thrown there, right? It is the most extravagant shit ever.”

“Okay, fair enough,” Tara conceded, laughing.

“You’re here!” Penelope squealed when they arrived. She ran to Emily giving her a tight hug. “Happy birthday! I’m so excited for you!” She grabbed their hands and dragged them inside. “Come on! I can’t wait to show you how we have the backyard set up!”

The three girls walked into the backyard to see Luke just finishing putting up the final streamer. “Hey, guys,” he said in greeting. “Happy birthday, Emily.”

“Thanks, Luke.”

“He offered to come over early to help set up,” Penelope explained.

“Oh did he?” Tara said pointedly at Luke.

He responded with a look that begged her to shut up.

Once everyone arrived, the party started in full, and the Rossi-Garica clan knew how to throw a party. There was dancing, there was delicious food and drink, it was all perfect. 

After they had exhausted themselves from dancing—which didn’t take them too long, considering they’d done it the night before—they gathered around to watch Emily open her gifts. 

“This one’s from me,” Tara said, handing her a tall, thin cardboard box. Emily opened it up to reveal an at-home cold brew steeper. “Oh my god,” she gasped. “This is so gay. I love it. Thank you.”

Spencer and Derek both gave her books. Spencer gave her some more academic books he thought she might like, and Derek gave her some Kurt Vonnegut books—the first thing they had ever bonded over. JJ and Will gave her some jewelry, and Matt and Kristy gave her a gorgeous sweater she’d pointed out to Kristy on one of their shopping trips. Luke gave her a little succulent with a lesbian flag stuck in it. She loved it.

Penelope was the last one to give Emily her gift, which was a large box full of cat costumes and toys. “They’re for Sergio,” she explained.

“Only you would buy someone a birthday gift that was actually something for their pet,” Luke said. His tone was teasing, but he was looking at her with sheer adoration on his face.

“Are you really going to pretend that you and Roxy don’t absolutely love the sweater and collar I got for her?”

“No, you’re right, I’m sorry,” Luke conceded, throwing his hands up in the air in surrender.

Rolling his eyes, Derek turned to Emily. “I didn’t know you had a cat, Emily.”

“Yeah, we rescued him a week ago.”

“We should do a pet play date,” he suggested. “I’ll bring Clooney, Luke, you bring Roxy, Emily, you bring Sergio, we all just meet up at a park and play with pets.”

Everyone instantly agreed that sounded like so much fun, it was a plan.

Albert drove Emily and Tara back at the end of the night, and Emily spent the night again. 

“Did you have a good birthday?” Tara whispered to Emily as they were trying to fall asleep.

“The best. Thank you.”

“I’m sorry your mom missed it.”

Emily considered her position, wrapped in Tara’s arms after having the most amazing party in Penelope’s backyard. Had her mother been there, none of those things would have happened. “You know what? I don’t really care.”

[gothprentiss]

you for whom i write this | wc: 884 | rating: G

i just found this in my documents and i don't think i'm going to do anything with it so i'm posting it here. pure emily prentiss character portraiture, if you haven't read vonnegut's the sirens of titan it will mean very little to you, etc.

Emily is writing a letter. It’s shooting tension along her shoulders, hunching her back, and straining her eyes.

Dear Emily, she writes.

There is so much I wish I could protect you from.

She crosses the line out with a sudden, embarrassed fury, tearing a ragged gash through the top sheets of her legal pad.

Dear Emily, she writes.

All of your bad decisions are necessary and inevitable. There isn’t much you could have done differently. But you will always regret not shooting Ian Doyle between the eyes.

Next to the legal pad is, neatly folded, the version of the letter she has to write. It’s a humiliatingly saccharine fabrication, rendered doubly so by the knowledge that it will shape her therapist’s rhetoric when she writes her recertification. It’s none of Dr. Levison’s business what Emily would say to her younger self, poised on the precipice of all this. It’s an exercise Emily would never otherwise have tolerated, until it became a condition of her livelihood. This second letter, as a result, has become a condition of her life itself. If she doesn’t write it, she thinks, she may never know herself again. 

I am not a liar anymore. I have no reason to be. You will be horrified to discover what a liar you are, and can be. 

Fighting the urge to cross these lines out too, she writes, You’re not real anymore, and I couldn’t lie to you anyway. 

What I want you to know is that you should stop worrying about doing the right thing. You have an ego you try to deny, and too much ambition to direct it properly. You are not going to do the right thing. You are going to do what you have to do, again and again, and eventually you will get out of it and be able to do what you want to do. 

You are 30. What you want is to be happy and successful, and you don’t know what either of those words mean. I remember being you, thinking about how hard it is to separate what I want out of life from what I’ve decided I don’t want in life, because mother wants it for me. On the plane to London, you’ll sit next to a nice couple in their early 20s. You’ll play cards with them and talk about how much scarier travel has become now, until the wife falls asleep on her husband’s shoulder. You’ll feel old and alone, even though you know they’re just idealistic kids. You’ll wonder if that’s something you want out of life. You’ll wonder if it’s even possible for you. You’ll think about mother and father and wonder what’s worth it in life, and whether being born a Prentiss meant you were condemned from the start to live a performance. This is not going to get better when you find out what JTF-12 has in store for you.

Do you remember The Sirens of Titan? You must— you’ve read it recently. Do you remember the letter Unk wrote to himself? I wish I could write that for you. “I am a thing called alive” and “Emily my old pal, here is who you can trust and here is all the knowledge that you will need to rebuild your understanding of the universe and the grim conspiracy that you have found yourself at the center of”— enough to make you courageous, watchful, and secretly free, the way you think you are. Emily my old pal, you are going to spend a lot of time feeling cowardly and scared, and I don’t think you’ll ever be your own hero. Like Unk, the best you can do is keep going, because there’s a kid at the center of it who means the world to you, and you can give him a good, safe life.

I’m writing this because I’m worried that I’m losing you the way liars lose their sense of reality. If I lose you, it will be only because I choose to. I remember you as an inflated sense of purpose which you held very close to your chest because even then you knew it was humiliating to want as much as you did. I remember you as a premature fear that you’d wasted your life and failed your potential. I regret and hate you, sometimes. Other times you just make me very sad. 

Emily, my old pal, things work out eventually. You get to be reincarnated. You get to come back to your life as a whole new person. You get to have the insane sensation of rereading The Sirens of Titan and feeling like it’s speaking directly to you. All that matters in the world, now, is that you’re genuine and open in it. The only reason I’m telling you this is because you’ve been me all along, and I need the push to remember to be brave. I am a thing called alive. This isn’t guaranteed for any time at all.

Emily

She rereads the letter carefully. Then she folds it neatly up, crosses the room to her kitchen, and lights one of the burners. In a matter of seconds, the paper catches, blackens, and begins to burn her fingers. She drops it, and watches it flake to ash on the grate.

[rosiehunterwolf]

little things

Prompts: Hugs and Crying

Word Count: 3,251

Characters: Lloyd and Kai

Timeline: Immediately after episode 18 (Child's Play)

Trigger Warnings: Trauma, Brief panic attacks

Summary: "Enjoy the little things in life, for one day you'll look back and realize they were the big things."

-Kurt Vonnegut

Lloyd’s tired of being left behind. How is he meant to be the green ninja when he always has to work harder, train better, and wait longer to go on missions with his team? He wants nothing more than to be their equal.

At least, that’s what he thought he wanted.

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The trip back to the Destiny’s Bounty that night was thick with tension. No one spoke, but Lloyd could feel Kai’s gaze boring into him.

He wished the fire ninja would look at something else. He didn’t want to think about what he was looking at.

It had been Lloyd’s choice, and he knew it. Not that his range of options had exactly been wide when a huge, ninja-eating monster had been looming over them, but he had made the choice nonetheless.

He just hadn’t expected it to be like this.

He had thought that not being a little boy anymore meant he got to become stronger, fight better, and, of course, accompany the ninja on their missions.

But he hadn’t thought about the way his legs would become so much longer suddenly, forcing him to concentrate so he wouldn’t trip. Or how his hair would dangle too-long in his face, or how the green gi, on which the sleeves and pant legs had been rolled up a ridiculous amount of times, now fit perfectly. Reminding him too much of who he was and what he was meant to do.

Most of all, though, he hadn’t expected the gaping ache in his chest, like someone had ripped out his heart. He didn’t understand where it came from or what it meant, only that the sparkling display racks in the windows of Doomsday Comix had never felt more distant than they did now.

Their arrival at the monastery couldn’t come soon enough, and Lloyd began to dart down the hall, anxious to get away from the prying eyes of the others. Before he could get far, however, a hand snatched his wrist, and he looked back to see Kai staring at him apprehensively.

“Hey, bud. We’re here for you. You don’t need to go running off on your own.”

Lloyd shook his head. “I’m not. I just wanna go take a shower.” The voice that came from his throat wasn’t his, it was too deep. He didn’t even recognize himself anymore.

Lloyd repressed a shiver of dread, realizing Kai was still looking at him expectantly. “I got… there was a lot of rubble and dust when the Grundle caved in the roof, I just wanna get clean. I’m fine.”

Kai stared at him for a long moment, and for once Lloyd couldn’t read the expression in his eyes. Relenting, he let out his breath, dropping Lloyd’s wrist. “You’re not. But whatever.”

Lloyd merely nodded, realizing that wasn’t the most reassuring answer he could give, but being reluctant to hear his own voice again.

Forcing himself to turn away, he headed down the hallway, passing the ninja’s cabin and heading towards his room a little way down.

Uncle Wu had cleared out the small storage room for him that first night he had stayed on the Bounty, and it had been his ever since. He had appreciated the gesture, to have his own space away from the others, and it had always been a comforting little place for him.

But now, as he gazed around at it, the room itself wasn’t the only thing that was small anymore. The bed in the corner was no longer large enough for him, the mirror mounted on the wall was too low down, the Starfarer comics piled on the nightstand were too juvenile and suddenly much less interesting.

Lloyd sighed, rubbing his hands over his eyes. There was no point lingering here. He might as well go take a shower like he had promised Kai.

But when he pulled open the drawer on his dresser, he paused, gazing down at the clothes.

Everything was too small. Of course it was.

Lloyd took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair as he tried to push down the bubbling panic in his chest.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten.

Letting out his breath again, he grabbed a pair of old, baggy pajama shorts that had always been too big on him anyway, and an undershirt from his gi.

Slipping through the halls, he made it to the bathroom at the end of the ship and quietly pulled the door shut behind him.

As he undressed, all he could focus on was his body, how it was bigger and older and different now. He forcibly shoved the thoughts out of his head before he had a breakdown and stepped into the shower.

Lloyd turned the shower as hot as it would go, barely even noticing as the water scalded his skin. He didn’t know how long he stood there, only that the water kept getting colder and colder until his teeth were chattering. Not even bothering to wash his hair, he stepped out of the shower and grabbed a bath towel, pressing his face into it.

He couldn’t do this. He had thought he could handle it, but he couldn’t. Lloyd was barely clutching on to the last threads of his sanity, and he needed to get out of here.

Quickly changing into the shorts and undershirt, he walked over to the window and carefully pushed it open. Stars twinkled at him from the dark sky, and he glanced down. The bathroom was at the top of the ship, just behind the bridge, so it was about a twenty-foot drop to the ground- easily enough to break a leg.

Biting his lip, he grabbed onto the window frame and pulled himself out, gripping onto the side of the ship as his feet found purchase on the windowsill. As he slowly stood, he accidentally caught sight of his face in the reflection in the window and nearly slipped, gasping sharply as he just barely caught himself from falling.

Get yourself together, Lloyd. You’re still yourself, just a little older. Stop being such a crybaby.

Reaching up for the edge of the roof of the bridge, he hauled himself up and crawled back from the edge a bit. Staring out over the trees, the soft glow of the city in the distance, he glanced down at his hands. Fingers too long, palms too rough.

He hadn’t known it was going to be like this. All he had done was age up a few years. It was a small sacrifice to make, seeing as the Grundle would’ve killed them all otherwise. It shouldn’t have been that big of a deal. Lloyd shouldn’t have been acting so selfishly.

He wrapped his arms around his legs, curling up into a ball.

For the first time that night, Lloyd let himself cry.

---

Kai paced back and forth across the hallway. “Ugh! Why do I let him leave? I know he always locks himself in his room and never comes back to talk to me!”

Zane frowned. “I know this is difficult and confusing for you, Kai- it is for all of us. But Lloyd’s always been much less straightforward than you. Perhaps we should try a less direct approach.”

“You’re saying I should just let him sulk alone for the rest of the night?”

“What I’m saying is that maybe we should just give him a little time to himself, time to process, before we all go barging in to speak to him.”

“Just because Lloyd thinks he wants to be alone doesn’t mean he should be. Isolation isn’t going to solve anything.”

“Kai,” Cole sighed, “that’s not what we’re saying at all. This is just a sensitive situation for Lloyd, and we don’t want to provoke him the wrong way.”

“A sensitive situation?” Kai barked. “Don’t you think I know that? But I’m telling you, he needs someone! Don’t you see? That’s what he does! He tells us he’s fine, but he’s not! Of course he’s not! And- and I want to help him, but I can’t. When he needs me most, I have no idea what to do. Augh, why did I let him come with us? I knew it was too dangerous!”

“Kai,” Zane put a cool hand on his shoulder. “Calm down. There’s nothing you could’ve done.”

“Nothing I could’ve done?” Kai blinked up at him through watery eyes. “I was supposed to protect him.”

Nya squeezed his hand. “You can’t blame yourself for this, Kai. You can’t.”

“I’m not trying to. It’s just… hard. This isn’t some small little mishap we can go back and fix. This is big.”

“I know, but he’s strong. He’s going to get through it. I think Zane’s right, we should tread lightly. Although,” she paused, her brow furrowing, “I am starting to get pretty worried about him. He’s been in there a long time.”

“Wait,” Jay frowned. “In his room?”

“No, the bathroom.”

Kai’s head snapped towards her. “Wait, what? Did he go in there again?”

Nya shook her head. “I’ve been watching the door. He never left after he went in the first time.”

Cole glanced between them. “How long has he been in there?”

Kai’s gaze darted anxiously towards the bathroom door. “He went in there to take a shower nearly an hour ago.”

Cole’s eyes darkened. “Yeah, that’s too long. Let’s go.”

They hurried over to the bathroom door and the others hovered anxiously behind as Cole rapped his knuckles on the wood, leaning his ear against it. “Lloyd, you okay in there?”

There was no answer.

Cole knocked harder, and Kai could feel the anxiety building. “Lloyd? Bud? We just wanna talk.”

“Okay,” Nya breathed after a moment, “Lloyd’s as stubborn as a mule, but he doesn’t purposely worry us like this. Something’s wrong.”

“Zane,” Cole said, the struggle to keep calm evident in his voice. “Can you pick up anything?”

Zane stilled for a moment. “My sensors don’t detect any sign of movement.”

Kai’s heart skipped a beat. “Get me in.” Shoving past the others, he lunged for the door handle, yanking on it- but it didn’t budge. “He locked it! Why would he lock it?”

“We need a lock pick!” Jay yelped. “Nya, do you have a bobby pin?”

“I can get one, I’ll be right back!”

“Lloyd!” Cole yelled, banging on the door. “Open the door! Don’t do anything dumb!”

“Talk to us, bud!” Kai cried. “Please!”

“I’m back,” Nya huffed, skidding across the floor and holding out the pin. Jay snatched it from her hand and jiggled it in the lock, gritting his teeth. The others waited apprehensively as the seconds ticked by.

Jay pulled back with a sigh. “It’s not working.”

“Lloyd,” Kai moaned, “Open up!”

Cole glanced at them. “Should I break the door?”

Zane hesitated, then nodded. “Do it. We can always replace it later. Lloyd is more important.”

Everyone except for Cole stepped away from the door. The earth ninja held up his fists, and they glowed amber, the light spreading down his forearms.

“Stand back, Lloyd! I’m coming in!” Cole lunged forward, punching in the door and sending splinters of wood flying.

Kai darted to his side and stared into the bathroom, his breath caught in his throat.

Jay stepped around them, pulling back the shower curtain. Empty.

Just like the rest of the room.

“He’s not here?” Cole asked. “I just destroyed the door for nothing?”

“That’s impossible!” Nya yelped. “I saw him go in, and he never left! I’m positive.”

Kai’s eyes lingered on the far wall. “I know where he went.”

The others followed his gaze towards the open window, and Jay’s eyes widened. “He went out the window? That fall could seriously injure him!”

Kai shook his head. “He didn’t go down, he went up.” Glancing back at the others, he added, “Perhaps Zane had a point about the whole subtlety thing. Let me go talk to him first.”

The others exchanged reluctant glances, but stepped back.

Kai pulled himself out the window, balancing carefully as his fingers found the edge of the roof’s shingles. A chilly breeze hit him in the face, but he ignored it, hauling himself the rest of the way up with a soft grunt.

Lloyd was sitting a few feet away, curled in on himself as he stared off into the distance. Kai slowly eased his way over to him and the two sat in silence for a while.

Kai forced himself to look at the boy and felt a tug on his heartstrings. The way he sat there, so quiet and still, was as unlike Lloyd as his new appearance.

Kai shook his head. He couldn’t allow himself to think like that. No doubt Lloyd already had enough of those thoughts going through his head. This was still the same person. He was still Lloyd. He was still his little brother.

Kai leaned closer, allowing his shoulder to lightly bump against Lloyd’s. The green ninja gasped suddenly, as if just realizing he was there, and quickly scrubbed at his eyes. The action made him seem more like the young child that had been left behind. That, and the fact that he was shivering.

“Dude, you’re freezing!” He glanced down to see Lloyd was only wearing a pair of baggy shorts and a light tank top. “Why aren’t you wearing any proper clothes?”

Lloyd’s cheeks flushed, and he dipped his head, muttering under his breath.

“What?”

“I don’t have any proper clothes, okay?” More quietly, he added, “Nothing fits me anymore.”

Oh, Lloyd. “Hey, why didn’t you come to me? Y’know I’ve got way more clothes than I’ll ever wear, me and the guys would be more than willing to share stuff with you. And we’ll take you shopping, too, so you can pick out some stuff of your own. How does that sound?”

Lloyd sniffed, wiping an arm across his face. “Yeah, that sounds… that sounds good.”

“Here.” Kai slipped his sweatshirt off and draped it over Lloyd’s shoulders. “It’s not exactly warm out. Don’t make yourself sick.”

“Thanks.” Lloyd pulled the sweatshirt tighter around his shoulders, and Kai felt a small swell of relief as he noticed it was still a little big on him. So his little brother hadn’t grown up completely yet.

“Bud,” he said gently, “it’s fine if you come up here, but tell us before you do next time, okay? We were worried about you.”

Lloyd looked down, still refusing to meet his gaze. “Sorry. I just… didn’t really want anyone to follow me.”

“I know, but you can’t be alone forever. It’s not going to fix anything.”

“Being together isn’t going to fix this, either.”

Kai winced. “Not physically, no. But we’ll be here for you emotionally. We’ll help you heal.”

“But I can’t-” Lloyd stopped, sighing. “Sorry. I’m being selfish.”

“Selfish? How is any of this selfish?”

“Because! You guys were risking your lives, and I made the decision that saved you, yet I’m regretting I did!” “First of all, you’re not regretting you saved us, you’re regretting the other consequences that came out of the choice. Second, it wasn’t much of a choice at all. The Grundle backed you into a corner- literally- and that was the only logical solution at the time. It’s not fair. It shouldn’t have been you. You shouldn’t have been there. You shouldn’t have been forced to make a decision like that. But you were. So you have every right to be upset, every right to complain. That is not selfish.”

Lloyd finally turned to look at him, a helpless, floundering expression on his face.

Kai took pity on him, putting an arm around him. “Lloyd, I’m here. Whether you wanna talk, or scream, or cry, or just need someone to lean on, I’m here.”

“I… I don’t know what to do, Kai. I don’t feel like myself anymore.”

“You are. You’re still the same Lloyd, still our friend, our little brother, our charge. This changes nothing between us. We’re gonna take care of you, okay?”

Lloyd sniffed, putting his hands over his face, and Kai elbowed him gently. “It’s okay to cry, y’know. No one’s gonna judge you for it.”

“But I… I’m not a little kid anymore.”

“So? Everyone cries! It’s natural, and it doesn’t matter how old you are! I’ve cried, I’ve seen Cole cry, Jay cry, I’ve definitely seen Nya cry, and Zane- well, actually, I haven’t seen Zane cry. But that’s only because he’s a nindroid and physically can’t cry. He still gets upset sometimes, though.”

“I know, but… I just feel like I should be able to handle things better.”

“Are you crazy? I’d go insane if I suddenly just aged several years in the span of seconds. Compared to me, you’re handling it like a champ.”

Lloyd didn’t look at him. “Not really. I feel like a wreck right now.” His last words caught on a sob, and Kai glanced over at him, apprehension budding in his chest.

“Are you okay?”

Lloyd blinked rapidly, trying and failing to stop the tears spilling from his eyes. “Not really.”

“Can I hug you?”

Lloyd hesitated but nodded, and Kai wasted no time in wrapping his arms around Lloyd’s shoulders, pulling him close.

Kai didn’t know how long they sat there, but it was a while before Lloyd broke the silence. “Do you think the Final Battle is coming sooner, now that I’m older?”

“I don’t know. But whenever it is, I’m gonna be there. Even if that means I have to kick Garmadon’s ass for you.” He bit his lip, grinning sheepishly. “Shoot, I didn’t mean to say that in front of you.”

Lloyd snorted. “I already know that word.”

“Wait, who taught you that? Was it Nya? I bet it was Nya.” “It wasn’t any of you. I grew up at Darkley’s, what do you expect? That isn’t the only choice word I know.”

Kai’s eyes widened. “Don’t you dare tell Zane, he’ll have a fit.”

A brief smile flickered across Lloyd’s face, the first once Kai had seen all night.

“Hey, if I’m grown up now, I should at least get to use some bad words once in a while.”

“Not happenin’, bro,” Kai grinned. “You’re not that grown up yet.”

“I could be fifty and you’d still say that.”

“What can I say, you’ve got a baby face,” Kai smirked, putting his hands on either side of Lloyd’s head.

“Stop that,” Lloyd grumbled, pushing him away. “‘M not a baby.”

“You are, and no dumb tea can change that.”

Lloyd bit his lip, trying to look away, but Kai forced his head to turn, looking him in the eye.

“Lloyd. It’s okay. You don’t have to pretend like it’s all fine. Let it out.”

Lloyd gasped, half falling into his lap, and Kai gripped him tight. It’s gonna be okay, he told himself. He’s going to be okay. We all are.

Lloyd’s path had been difficult from the beginning. It wasn’t fair that all this had been thrown on him- he was just a kid, even now. But it had been, and Kai had an awful feeling that this wouldn’t be the worst hardship his youngest teammate would have to endure.

But next time he would do better. He was one of the four elemental masters of the elements of creation. It was his job to protect Lloyd, to keep him safe.

It made his heart break to see Lloyd, usually so spunky, so unshakable, like this, and he was going to do everything in his power to make sure it didn’t happen again.

But for now, he just hugged the green ninja.

He hoped, with time, it would be enough to heal him.

[domesticadventures]

as free as it wants to be. deancas, 1.7k. (ao3)

There’s something Dean’s missing.

He feels like he does sometimes when there’s a word on the tip of his tongue, when a smell calls up a memory he can’t quite place, when he sees a familiar-looking side character in a genre show and has to stop to find out what else the actor has been in on IMDB. He feels like that, but like it matters. Like he’s missing something important. He thinks that if he could just have a minute to sit still and think about it, if the end of the world could stop happening for one goddamn minute, he might be able to figure out what it is.

They’re home just for a night—tomorrow they’ll need to be back on the road, chasing down another lead. He’ll barely have time to rest, let alone think. He tells himself it’ll have to wait.

He stops in his room just long enough to change into his around-the-house clothes, but as he slips out of his flannel, something on his shelf catches his eye and everything clicks into place.

A lot of things in his life have been manufactured by an asshole God, current apocalypse included, and now he’s gonna manufacture a little scenario of his own.

He waits until they get through dinner, until Sam and Jack have cleared their plates and wandered off to turn in for the night. He moves to stand and Cas starts to open his mouth, probably to say something about how he’ll let Dean go, he must be tired.

Instead, Dean cuts him short. He nods at Cas’ empty bottle and says, “Another round while I bounce something off you?”

Cas’ aborted excuse turns into a small smile—puzzled, but not unpleasantly so. “Sure.”

“You know,” Dean says as he grabs a couple beers from the fridge, “back during the first apocalypse, when Chuck was still pretending he was just a prophet and not the literal actual God, I had this conversation with him, right?” Cas shifts in his seat, sits a little straighter, while Dean opens the bottles and slides one over to him. “I don’t remember all of it, but the part that matters is he said how the latest stuff he wrote about us got weird, like, Vonnegut weird. And I asked him, Cat’s Cradle Vonnegut or Slaughterhouse-Five Vonnegut? And he says, Kilgore Trout Vonnegut. He was talking about writing himself into the story. But I think he was really dodging the question.”

“Oh?” Cas says, as though only politely interested, as though the quiet, intent way he looks at Dean hasn’t always given him away.

“Yeah.” Dean pulls a book from the pocket of his robe—already old and worn when he got it from the library sale with some pocket change, now nearly falling apart at the spine from his own reading and rereading. He sets it on the table between them, taps a finger on the cover. “It’s Sirens of Titan Vonnegut.”

“I’m not sure I follow.”

“Okay, well, did you get this one when Metatron dumped all that media on you?”

“Yes.”

“So you remember what happens in it?”

“As I recall, humanity’s entire existence was manufactured for the sole purpose of completing an inane task in service of more powerful beings.” Cas sighs, unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice. “So I guess I see what you’re saying.”

“No, no. Well, I mean, yes. That’s what the book is about. But it’s not the point.”

Cas raises an eyebrow. “So what’s the point, then?”

“Well,” Dean says, picking at the label of his beer bottle, “a lot of people like to quote that one line about loving whoever is around to be loved, but even that always seemed pretty cynical to me. It’s still about the lack of free will, about just taking whatever life throws in your path and making the best of it. But I think that kind of misses the mark. And you know, it’s really frustrating, actually, because you’d think you could just search for it. You’d think you could Google ‘Sirens of Titan quotes’ and it would pop right up, but it doesn’t. The whole goddamn point of the book and nobody seems to have bothered to put it up on Goodreads or whatever—”

“Dean,” Cas says. He sounds exasperated, but his small, indulgent smile says otherwise. “The point?”

“Right. So. I had to get my book down off the shelf and search for it.” He wipes his hands on his jeans, picks up the book and opens it to the page he’s dog-eared, clears his throat, and reads:

“‘I would be the last to deny,’” said Beatrice, reading her own work out loud, “‘that the forces of Tralfamadore have had something to do with the affairs of Earth. However, those persons who have served the interests of Tralfamadore have served them in such highly personalized ways that Tralfamadore can be said to have had practically nothing to do with the case.’”

“Anyway,” he says, clearing his throat again as he closes the book, “when I was, uh. When I was wondering what was real. You said we are. You said it like you had never been more sure of anything.”

He glances up at Cas just in time to see his expression shift. Cas has always seemed interested in whatever he has to say, even on the many occasions he’s chosen to be intentionally ridiculous—but there’s something different there now, something beyond his usual care and curiosity. There’s something else there that Dean recognizes, and he tries not to shy away from it like he always has.

“Yes,” Cas says. “I did.”

“I think maybe you’re right,” Dean says. He takes a steadying breath, reaches for his beer and rolls the damp bottle between his hands. “I’m not saying that whatever God threw at us, all the big beats of the story, I’m not saying that didn’t impact our lives. But the whole point is for him to be entertained. If it was a hundred percent scripted, he wouldn’t have been interested. He’ll put a gun in my hand and give me every reason to use it, but he won’t actually make me pull the trigger. He’s reacting to our choices just as much as we’re reacting to his. We figure one thing out and he’s right there to throw another wrench in the plan. Anything he can do to draw out the tension and keep the story going.”

“Sure,” Cas says, “that makes sense.”

“Right, so. I’ve kind of—I’ve just been going back over everything, our whole history, and looking at it in a new way, I guess. Not as someone living a life but as an author writing a story, or—or—a screenplay. You read enough books and watch enough movies and you get a feel for how things are supposed to go, you know? And there are just—there are so many times when we—I dunno. Like when—when you let all those souls go, right, or when you got your memories back after—after everything with Sam, or when you came back from Purgatory, or when you were human for the first time and here in the bunker.”

He can picture it, even now, the way Cas looked each of those times—his earnest contrition, his regret. His quiet joy. And he remembers, too, what he had felt, all those times where it seemed like they were on the edge of something, where he had that sense he gets sometimes when he watches a movie or a show or a book, something where he recognizes the beats, where he can say, all right, the characters have been through enough hardship, now, and here comes the climax and the resolution. Here’s the payoff.

“All those times,” he says, “I just—it felt like we were right there, you know? Like maybe we were about to turn a corner. Like maybe everything was finally going to be okay, and we could just…” He raises a hand in a helpless gesture, lets it fall to the table with a thunk.

“But there was always something,” Cas says. “Leviathan, Sam’s memories, Naomi, Gadreel and his ultimatum.”

“Exactly. There was always some shit that seemed to come out of nowhere to fuck things up again.” There was always something stepping in, he knows now, to deny them their denouement, no matter what they might have done on our own. “You ever—you ever think about how things might have been different?”

“I did,” Cas says. After a moment, he amends, “I do.”

“There are so many times I thought we had, I dunno, come to some sort of understanding. So many times where if we could just have had time to breathe, maybe instead of being trapped in whatever fucked up cycle of pain and betrayal and reconciliation Chuck wanted to see, maybe—maybe whatever is this is”—he gestures between them—“maybe it could have—” He looks at Cas, pleading, willing him to understand.

Quietly, Cas says, “Maybe it’s happened anyway, in spite of that.”

“Yeah?” And there it is, that same feeling he’s grown so used to: the hope that wells up in his chest, imagining how things might go, picturing the next step in the story.

“Yeah.”

Dean steels himself—lets himself be steeled by Cas’ certainty, now and always. He presses his palms to the table. “You know what I think?”

“What?”

“I think God is the biggest fucking cockblock imaginable.”

A slow smile spreads across Cas’ face, amused and hopeful. “Oh?”

“Yeah. And I’m done with it.” Dean slides his beer and book out of the way, starts to lean forward—

“Wait,” Cas says, stopping him with a hand held up between them. He looks up and away from Dean, squinting as though he’s trying to see straight through the bunker to the world outside. “Let’s give it a second to see if Chuck is going to bring the bunker down on top of us—No?—Okay, then.”

Dean is still in the middle of rolling his eyes when Cas leans the rest of the way across the table and kisses him.

[thephysicsgraduate]

First of all I admire how far you have gotten! Congrats! Secondly, I want to ask how can I love learning physics again? I am a physics major, 3rd year, and for over the past years I have lost my passion for learning. I am still comparing myself with my classmates, and I know it is a wrong thing to do but still, it happens unconsciously. I don't know what to do, I am not motivated at all to do anything. I still have my dream of becoming an astrophysicist one day. However, it just seems impossible for me to accomplish. Subjects are starting to get complicated, and I just know that I don't know sh*t. I want to love knowledge again, any ideas, sources, tips, advice , inspiration? Sorry for my rambling. I hope you have a wonderful day!

Thank you for your kind words! Unfortunately, I don't have a magnificent answer for this, but I'm grateful that you reached out to ask because I think it's a great point to emphasize. This is something I have been struggling with immensely, especially since starting graduate school. Finishing the last year of my undergraduate degree 90-100% online was rough, and I missed out on research opportunities. The comparison thing is a nasty habit to kick, and I do my best to not think about how other students might be doing (in a comparative way). Also, keep in mind that people bullshit when discussing how "hard" an assignment or test was. Also, we all have different definitions of what "easy" means.

Like you said, though, this comparison so often happens without our own intention. Be patient and gentle with yourself. Try to think about if you were tutoring someone in a class you knew loads about. You wouldn't put them down for not knowing how to do something or struggling with a particular concept. I think trying to reorient your internal dialogue around learning Physics to be more like this can help.

Again I heavily relate to feeling like you don't know anything, and I understand how mentally exhausting assignments and tests can feel. I try to follow the wise words of my favorite author, Kurt Vonnegut, who said.

"I urge you to please notice when you are happy, and exclaim or murmur or think at some point, 'If this isn't nice, I don't know what is."

...so, whenever you find the urge to follow that wonderful sense of curiosity, do it! Notice and encourage those moments so you can look back on those moments when you have bad days.

In terms of resources, I recently stumbled upon Eleanora Svanberg's TikTok (elle.py) and Instagram (@ elle.pyc) accounts and she makes some beautiful content that I find really encouraging. She does an excellent job of being transparent about how she has not always loved studying physics/maths (and has times and classes which she currently struggles with). I really encourage you to check her content out!

Hopefully, my ramblings were a little helpful, and sorry, I don't have any profound or unconventional hacks for getting past this. Please know that you are not alone in this, and you are always welcome to reach out if you want to chat about it more.

Good luck!