#conceptually about my fic but also generally

[youhavereachedtheendofpie]

The tragically unrealised girl dad potential of Clem Andor tho 😔

[the-badger-mole]

I'm really interested in seeing more of your darker air nomads essentially practicing eugenics au and how the other characters respond. What would happen when Aang talks to his air nomad past lives? There's so much to explore.

I have like a whole roster of fics I want to get through this year, and so far none of them is going to touch on this, but maybe I can do this like my Dark!Avatar Aang stuff and post concepts, and maybe short Tumblr fics.

In my conceptualizing of this, I don't think Aang knows this happened. This seems like a "let's not tell the kids until they're older" sort of thing, and 12 doesn't seem old enough. They had introduced the concept of all Air Nomads being airbenders and started had answers to what happened to the fog babies (the Air Nomads babies that stayed on the ground), but very few of the kids actually know about the babies being gotten rid of.

I also don't picture the killing of babies being that widespread amongst the ANs. There would've been some speaking out against the practice, but probably little would've been done about it as long as the ones doing it kept it quiet enough for plausible deniability. Most Air Nomads would pick the non-lethal methods of disposal- leaving the children with non-Nomad parents, adoption, trafficking. The justification, of course, would have been that the non-bending children weren't spiritually pure enough, and so couldn't have a place among them. There might have been smaller groups of ANs that kept their non-bending children and just kind of did their own thing (they probably ate meat, too). They also wouldn't have been accepted by the Air Nomads in general, and so may have lived on the fringes of the AN society. Including during the thick of the war...

[olderthannetfic]

I thought it would be interesting to see if I could easily determine which ships had the most works updated in 2023.

It turned out to be fairly easy, though a little time consuming. I think these results should be reasonably accurate.

Some points to note:

I did this on my own account, and I have like 2 people muted. So I am capturing the effects of archive-locked works, but my numbers might be off by one or two works due to muting.

Works updated in 2023 is a number that constantly changes as works are deleted or updated again in 2024.

I didn't scrape the entire archive or anything like that, so it's possible I missed a ship that would bump one of these down below 100. I'd take the last few at the bottom there with a grain of salt. But I think we can be reasonably sure the top ones are accurate and that the kinds of numbers that we see at the bottom there (eighteen hundred plus works updated in 2023) are about where the cutoff will be even if we find a ship I missed.

--

As for how I did this, I went to the category tags and the rating tags, filtered for updating in 2023, then excluded ships in the sidebar till I got to 130-150 ships excluded. I also grabbed ships that are big in general from tag search, which you can use to find all relationship canonicals, ordered by frequency.

I combined those lists of ships, cleaned off the works numbers, and generated a list without duplicates. That got me three hundred and something (yes, they were mostly duplicates). I generated the relevant AO3 URLs, opened them in batches with Open Multiple URLs, and copied the works totals into a spreadsheet. Not as tidy as using a script but honestly pretty easy if you know a few spreadsheet formulas to clean up data.

The key here is that if you're only going for pretty good and not accurate beyond a shadow of a doubt, all you need to do is generate a list of likely ships, then check them.

It's possible that there's some much-updated ship that is so evenly spread across these various other tags that it just missed showing up in the sidebar. Hopefully, grabbing more than just the top 100 avoided this problem.

This method also doesn't take into account backdated works. If a whole archive was imported in 2023 but all backdated, there could be some ship that didn't have new works but where AO3 users experience in 2023 was of an influx of content.

I also did this just now, in late March/early April, so some 2023 works have inevitably been deleted or updated again. So the exact work counts don't represent the experience of using AO3 throughout 2023. A fandom active in early 2023 might not have much updating in early 2024, while a fandom active in late 2023 would. This could demote the latter a few places in the rankings since I didn't grab numbers on January 1st.

Even if a person scraped AO3 every day or was monkeying around in the databases, you also have to ask what conceptual answer you're after. Is it works a user could have read at some point during 2023, whether they were deleted by the year's end or not? Is it new-to-AO3 works or only newly-created ones, not including imported archives? Does it matter if the works are fic? If they're in English? What about accidental double-uploads or translations of a single work?

I hope this makes it clear why a definitive ranking is not actually possible.

However, despite these drawbacks, I am confident that the rankings above accurately represent the broad trends on AO3 in 2023. Just don't get too fixated on whether a ship should be at number 73 or number 74.

And, of course, I excluded these from the top 100:

Original Character(s)/Original Character(s) - 20,026

Minor or Background Relationship(s) - 16,187

No Romantic Relationship(s) - 8,052

Original Female Character(s)/Original Male Character(s) - 7,195

Original Male Character/Original Male Character - 6,283

Other Relationship Tags to Be Added - 5,618

Original Female Character(s)/Original Female Character(s) - 3,990

Original Character(s) & Original Character(s) - 3,210

Here's a spreadsheet if you want to see the actual numbers not as a shitty screencap. I left the next few below 100 for context.

[antimony-medusa]

*I emerge from several weeks of talking about conceptualizing my cubitos and who else populates their world and what the precise nature of the character is* Hello. Hi. It's time for my twice-yearly thoughts on RPF.

Okay so I was one of the people who was emailing Ao3 about it when we had all of MCYT wrangled into VBRPF going please please please please can we have our own server tags pleeeeeeease I promise it's not just video blogging rpf pleeeeeeease my streamer doesn't have wings in real life pleasssssseeee— and my general stance is that writing about Dream SMP characters is writing about characters, it's not RPF.

Not quite. It's not quite RPF. There is a meaningful distinction there, but it's not a really huge one. That distinction exists and is important to me in how I conceptualize those characters and whether I'm mentally going "okay I need to study lore streams for vocal patterns" for voice research or if I'm going "okay I need to pull up technocord logs " to get techno voice right. What I consider the authoritative canon "character" is a rp guy who spawns withers, not a real streamer in california with a little white dog.

But like I do multifandom exchanges and I wander into them with my cubitos clutched tight in my palms, and I see what other fandoms look like— and importantly, I see what other rpf fandoms look like— and guys, I think that line is legitimately blurry and I think that's literally fine. If I walk into a mulltfandom space with my guys they're going to squint at me and go "rpf fandom— kinda, I think" and I can go "hahaha, not quite", but also I do not blame other people for thinking this is RPF cause like— there are a lot of similarities!

What MCYT tends to classify as "RPF" is directly stories operating in a world where the characters are streamers, they post on twitter, they have lunch with the CEO of twitch. And anyone not writing that, is obviously not writing RPF. And that is not untrue, up to a point, but there is a broad category of fics that tend WAY harder into the pure fictional that are still considered RPF fandoms, if you actually check what other RPF fandoms are doing. There are 599 works in "Demon Shane Madej", many of which are in AUs that have no connection to the real world other than the character relationships, and they're still officially considered RPF.

I have a friend who's in a c-drama rpf fandom that has a rpf ship they really like, and a really popular thing is to take the various characters these actors have played (totally fictional characters from various media) and ship them together. And that's just a crossover of two fictional mediums, but because the thread connecting them is two guys in real life, that's considered RPF.

The banddom tags are absolutely COMPLETELY full of aus that are not set in the real world at all, no connection to the music industry, and what the people in those fandoms will say is like yeah, I have no idea about the real guy, I'm working with a character/persona who's put on for the stage and interviews and personas, and that guy is not REAL, who knows what the real guy is like, but like, I like the persona, I deal with the persona, and then they put that persona in an au where he kisses other personas— and this gets considered RPF.

Wrestler RPF is directly dealing with invented characters who are beating the bloody snot out of each other (hot), they have names like "the undertaker", dealing with scripted storylines, but it still get considered RPF.

And like, I look at myself as I am entering my third year of writing Technoblade most of the time, and what I'm doing here and— there are a lot of similarities in what I'm doing to what other RPF fandoms are doing. I'm a fan of the DSMP character but I'm also a fan of the guy, so I want to play in this extended universe, so I want to include nods to his other stuff. So I will pepper in a cheeky nod to the potato war here, I'll mention hypixel there, etc, kind of make an extended Technoblade universe. And I think that's not RPF (quite) because I'm working from a fictional canon that includes references to the potato war and hypixel etc, I'm just expanding on it, but like, this is literally what my friend in c-drama rpf does as well when she's writing aus about her guy. It's kind of close to RPF. That line is not really obvious to the casual viewer.

So I do not blame anyone else if they look at what we're doing and they go ah, nods wisely, you are a rpf fandom, I've seen this before, and we go um actually, hahah, you'd think that, but no, and then they nod and clearly do not understand how it's not a RPF fandom.

But the thing is it's literally fine if people think that, I think. RPF is not the end of the world. It's just a bunch of people working with people's various performancesonas and worksonas and having fun with it. Spoilers for mythbusters in the real world, but we now know that by the end of mythbusters adam and jamie were not really friends, but most of the mythbusters rpf keeps them as friends because that was the professional persona they provided for the camera, and that was the fictional world the writers wanted to live in. I don't think it's a problem if someone wants to write straight up streamer fic, you do you, and that's unequivocally RPF, but once you start getting into AUs and extended universes and bringing emduo content into qsmp and writing fic based on GIGS streams, the line legitimately gets WAY more blurry.

I think a bunch of fic (including my fic) can start to exist in a "both things are true" state where it's drawing from direct fiction but it's also drawing from a lot of stuff that other fandoms would consider RPF sources, and like, I don't mind this. I don't think it's bad if you're doing this too. We're not getting more DSMP content, the fandom police are not gonna turn up at your house if you want to pull strongly from minecraft monday for your fic. Do schlackity on QSMP. Do a DSMP extended future where tommy gets tubbo to marry him for a bit and then tubbo immediately demands a divorce. The canon of material we have to draw on is not something where big obvious lines exist between "rpf content" and "pure fiction" if you step at ALL outside of canon-compliant. Like fuck, in my very first DSMP longfic I included all these hermit cameos and mcc references which would make it RPF in any other canon, but also I was pulling mainly from the prison arc lore and beats and relationships for the core, which is NOT rpf, and at this point it is not worth the hassle in my head to draw a strong distinction between them.

It's kinda RPF. It's not quite RPF. It's fictional. It's based in the real world. It's all personas. it's drawing on off-lore-stream dynamics. It's drawing on scripted scenes where my streamer had his camera in lore mode. It's COMPLICATED to unpick and I legitimately think that's fine. RPF is literally fine, some people are gonna think we're writing RPF, it's not the end of the world. Just have fun with it.

[ardafanonarch]

Hello, in fic I've come across mentions of

- the elves stopping frequently on their journey to Aman to have sex (and Orome urging them forward by creating storms?)

- elf sex being too intense for most mortals to survive

I think these come from HoME or NoME (or similar sources), but I've never seen the actual quotes. There might be other things related to elf-sex in there as well.

So I guess my question is: What else did Tolkien mention about elf sex, apart from (the already relatively well-known) LaCE?

Elf Sex Lore

There comes a time in every Tolkien fan’s journey when they come upon the Professor’s writings on Elf sex — and, since 2021, there are even more! Elf Sex Lore remains a hot topic as the fandom continues to experience the aftershocks of the spurt of new lore that came with the publication of The Nature of Middle-earth (NoMe) in 2021.

As you say Anon, before NoMe was published, the fandom’s primary resource on Elf sex was the (in)famous essay Laws and Customs Among the Eldar (LaCE), published in 1993 in Morgoth’s Ring, the tenth volume of the History of Middle-earth series. LaCE is full of juicy (or not-so-juicy) lore about Elven aging, marriage, gender roles, naming, death, and rebirth.

It is in relation to the first two that we get some details on Elf sex, such as the knowledge that “it was the act of bodily union that achieved marriage, and after which the indissoluble bond was complete.” (Laws B). We also learn that:

“…the Eldar say* that in the begetting, and still more in the bearing of children, greater share and strength of their being, in mind and in body, goes forth than in the making of mortal children. For these reasons it came to pass that the Eldar brought forth few children; and also that their generation was in their youth or earlier life, unless strange and hard fates befell them. But at whatever age they married, their children were born within a short space of years after their wedding. For with regard to generation the power and the will are not among the Eldar distinguishable. Doubtless they would retain for many ages the power of generation, if the will and desire were not satisfied; but with the exercise of the power the desire soon ceases, and the mind turns to other things. The union of love is indeed to them great delight and joy, and the ‘days of children’, as they call them, remain in their memory as the most merry in life; but they have many other powers of body and of mind which their nature urges them to fulfil.” The History of Middle-earth Vol. 10: Morgoth’s Ring, ‘The Later Quenta Silmarillion (II)’, Laws B

*Note how this paragraph is introduced: “the Eldar say”. Phrases like this signal to us that LaCE is not written from a Elvish point of view. There are indications elsewhere clearly pointing to a human author with a human audience in mind.

Translation: Elves use up a lot of energy in baby-making, including in the sex part (“begetting”) but even more in the pregnancy and birthing part (“bearing”), so they don’t have a lot of children and they do so early in life, shortly after marriage. But even if they marry later in life, Elves are still able to have babies because being able to and wanting to reproduce are the same thing for Elves. But once they’ve fulfilled the desire to make babies they’re good and turn to other things. Still, they look back on the time of baby-making as “the most merry in life”.

In most (if not all) cases, when Tolkien writes about sex he is writing about reproduction. Did Elves have sex solely for pleasure? Maybe; I cannot find anything that says they didn’t. I also can find little conceptual separation of sex and reproduction in Tolkien’s writings. Make of that what you will.

(At this point I want to reiterate a principle central to this blog: it’s about presenting what canon says; it is not about casting judgement on creations that subvert, reinterpret, or ignore canon, none of which makes a work lesser than one which adheres strictly to canon.)

So what did NoMe add to our knowledge about Elf sex? First of all, let’s make sure we all know what NoMe is.

What is The Nature of Middle-earth?

NoMe is a volume of texts by J.R.R. Tolkien collected and edited by Carl Hostetter. It is basically a supplement to the last three volumes of The History of Middle-earth (Morgoth’s Ring, The War of the Jewels, and The Peoples of Middle-earth), which cover a period from the late 1950s to his death during which Tolkien was undertaking a rather massive project of worldbuilding, working out the structures underlying his Silmarillion mythology in preparation for revising and publishing what he had written of it before ‘a sequel to The Hobbit’ (LotR) took him away from it for the better part of two decades.

Christopher Tolkien in Morgoth’s Ring called this undertaking “analytic speculation concerning [the] underlying postulates” of his world (Foreword to Morgoth’s Ring). That’s how we end up with essays like LaCE and the philosophical debate about the fates of Men and Elves in Athrabeth Finrod ah Andreth.

The texts in NoMe all date to around the same time and deal with the same sorts of questions about the physics and metaphysics of the world: it contains the essay on ósanwë, for example.

The Context of the NoMe Sex Lore

The first section of NoMe, ‘Time and Ageing’, is where we get the new lore on Elf sex. As it happens, the sex lore is rather incidental to extensive ruminations two core questions:

How did Elves experience the passage of time and how did they age?

How did the population of Elves go from 144 at Awaking to a sufficiently high number (around 30 000) when they reached the shores of Beleriand on the Great Journey?

(It is not relevant to get into why 144 and why 30 000 here; suffice to say those are the numbers Tolkien wanted and he expended great imaginative and mathematical energy trying to make them work.)

A note on the textual context: Anyone who has ever engaged in worldbuilding knows how it can go. You think (for example), “Okay, I need to develop a backstory for this character’s spouse,” and before you know it you are knee-deep in invented genealogies and geographies and Eru-knows-what-else.

It’s important to bear in mind that this is what Tolkien was doing. The quotes we are about to look at (yes, very soon!) are from a collection of evolving (and unresolved) notes in various states of refinement from barely legible scribbles to carefully penned essays. I will let you decide what that means to you based on your personal definition of canon, but I wanted the textual context to be clear.

Elf Sex Is Intense

In relation to Question 1, Tolkien considers the time-scales of Elven growth, including pregnancy. In the essay under discussion, Tolkien decides that Elven pregnancy should, like human pregnancy, take about 3/4 of a year. Oh no - not that kind of year. A yên, a ‘long year’, the unit used by the Elves and to which the matter of their bodies (their hröar) is bound. Elves gestate for 108 Sun years.

I know what you’re asking: If the pregnancy lasts 108 years, then how long does the sex last?

No? No! You’re probably asking yourself why Tolkien hated Elf-women so much (don’t worry, he says there’s no pain…)! But Tolkien was interested in the first question, which he answered thus:

“On the other hand the act of procreation, being of a will and desire shared and indeed controlled by the fëa, was achieved at the speed of other conscious and wilful acts of delight or of making. It was one of the acts of chief delight, in process and in memory, in an Elvish life, but its intensity alone provided its importance, not its time or length: it could not have been endured for a great length of time, without disastrous “expense.”” (NoMe, p. 24)

An earlier version of this passage, which you may also come across in fandom, comes to a similar conclusion:

“But the act of procreation not being one of growth until the union of the seed and being under full control of the will does not take long - though it is longer and of more intense delight in Elves than in Men: too intense to be long endured.” (NoMe, pg. 27)

Translation: Pregnancy, like other aspects of physical growth, is a process of the hröa over which the fëa has no control; thus it is bound to unfold on “Elvish time”, i.e. 1 year = 144 years. But the sex leading up to it is an act of the fëa and under its control and therefore occurs at a “normal” speed. The Elves love it, too! But not because of how long it lasts, which is a regular amount of time, but because of how intense it is. In fact, it is so intense that if it were any longer they would suffer “disastrous “expense”.”

What is this “expense”? Basically, it’s referring to the usage of an Elf’s natural “vitality” — far greater than that of Men but not infinite. As far as I can tell, this passage means that having intense Elf sex for too long would have spiritual results similar to Míriel’s bearing of Fëanor, or Fëanor’s creation of the Silmarils. Too much of their spirit would be expended (used up) in the act, with possibly disastrous consequences.

These are the quotes from which, I think, originate the rumour that Elf sex was too intense for mortals to survive. As you can see, the discussion is about Elf/Elf relations. Elf sex is too intense for Elves to endure for too long. Anything about what this means for Elf/Mortal sexual relations is fan conjecture.

That’s the Elf Sex nugget from Tolkien’s considerations of Elven growth rates: Elf sex (between Elves) is intense but of a normal duration.

Elven enthusiasm for baby-making delays March

As you can imagine, more nuggets are unearthed in relation to Question 2, which boils down to Tolkien crying: “I need the Cuiviénen Elves to breed a lot and quickly!”

Initially, Tolkien developed some Elven life cycle schemes that had them taking a leisurely approach to reproduction, with each generation taking many hundreds, even thousands, of Sun years to materialise.

This scheme did not work for getting him from 144 to ~30k in the timeframe he wanted. So, he made some adjustments to the scheme with respect to the timing of Elven maturity and consequent desire to begin reproducing — and then set about getting those Elves procreating!

One of the solutions he entertained was giving the Elves opportunities to reproduce on the Great Journey. He laid all of this out in a timeline (NoME, p. 49-53) detailing where and for how long the host of Elves would pause because of the “desire to beget children” (p. 49).

Reading this timeline, it can become increasingly comical each time this desire to reproduce (i.e., have sex) halts the host. It can start to read like, “The Elves took forever to cross Middle-earth because they couldn’t stop banging!” And, in a way, that is what happened. But bear in mind the context is an attempt at solving the problem of increasing the Elven population to a number Tolkien considered satisfactory for his worldbuilding endeavours. An Elven enthusiasm for sex is there, but it’s not the whole picture.

There are several points on the timeline when Oromë hangs out with the Elves or checks in on them, and he does become increasingly concerned with their begetting-related delays. For example:

“About 2000 pairs (of available Telerin 8th gen. of 4,950) beget children in the spring 1130/80. The Chiefs and Oromë are disturbed.” (NoMe, p. 51)

(“The Chiefs” are Ingwë, Finwë, and Elwë.)

And:

“Either by chance, machinations of Sauron, and/or because Oromë withdraws protection (hoping to make the Eldar less content with their new Home (Atyamar), winters are hard and the weather worsens.” (NoMe, p. 51)

The second quote is the origin of that rumour about Oromë creating storms to urge the Elves on because they were having too much sex. Is it canon? Not quite: Oromë didn’t create the storm, for one, and the emphasis is on sex for the pleasure of children more than the pleasure of sex on its own (though, as we know from the previous discussion, sexual pleasure was certainly had!). But the rumour you've heard is not without basis in Tolkien’s notes.

The First Elves Really Loved Sex

There’s one more Elf sex nugget in NoMe that I’d like to end with. While scrambling to get his Cuiviénen Elves reproducing at an adequate rate to reach his population-at-finding target, Tolkien came up with what he calls the “Quick prolific” scheme (p. 99).

“The Quendi in their first few generations before the March (or reaching Valinor) must — as is quite reasonable — be made far more eager for love and the begetting and bearing of children. *They must have larger families, at shorter intervals between births.” (p. 107)

To explain this attitude of reproductive eagerness in the first few generations of Elves, Tolkien coins the term “philoprogenitive” — they love to procreate! Procreating — not artistic and intellectual pursuits or exploration or leadership as with later generations — is their number one priority in life. So much so that “they mated almost at once with their predestined mates” (p. 54).

Not only that, but they have so many babies! In one version of the scheme, 12 children per couple in the first generation (p. 108). (This soon changes to 6 per couple. Philoprogenitive they may be, but no one gets to outdo Fëanor).

As with the highly intense Elf sex and the Great Journey delayed by procreating, this is another bit of NoMe lore with great imaginative potential. As we learn from LaCE, Elves enjoyed sex, quite a bit actually, but they enjoyed a lot of other things also, and after a period of baby-making they would usually move on from sex (though they would always remember it fondly). But the First Elves, those early generations by the shores of Cuiviénen? No such balance between sex and other pursuits. It was all about sex and procreation for them.

Of course, what we’ve been looking at are drafts and notes. While all written around the same time (late 1950s to early 1960s), none of the texts here examined were ever finalised and many of them don’t even agree with each other. Tolkien was experimenting; he was worldbuilding. And with the publication of these notes in NoMe, we in turn get some intriguing ingredients for worldbuilding of our own.

So, do as you like with the Elf sex lore. But if you’re looking for a great setting for some canon-compliant smut, may I suggest Cuiviénen?

Resources

PDF of LaCE

Mythgard Academy’s seminars on The Nature of Middle-earth. You don’t actually have to have read or own NoMe to follow these discussions. Great for getting a handle on the material, and ideal for listening as you work your way through reading.

[scintillyyy]

do you have recs for janet drake fics, where her characterisation isnt evil abuser cold etc

ooooh this is actually a kind of tall order because the problem is that most fics that still try to be better parent janet drake still usually fall into the trap of "she was a cold business shark! she just loved tim despite it" even though the drakes are shown as a family who 1) generally like spending time together with their son when they're home 2) are shown to be a very huggy and tactile family & janet's main character trait for the little she appears is being a bit emotional and worried about her son because we still live in a world that tries to refrigerator-mother any woman who isn't perfect at parenting and often when writing a woman who's a "good/fierce/badass" role model for her son you see this tendency towards she has to want to step on men with her heels and kill them with her eyeliner and has to be feared and scary because it's hashtag feminist rather than her being the one to teach him things like kindness and empathy. it's like an exaggerated version of a sitcom trope where since the dad of course has to be a dundering buffoon, she has to be the one with the brains. however! outside of my two big janet fics which i know having loving and warm janet bc that's how i write her i have trawled through the janet drake & tim drake tag excluding bad parents jack and janet drake leaving me with like 200odd works that are still like 80% bad parents jack and janet drake to find at least a few gems:

every good gold digger by roseandgold137 - is on the good end of the janet drake parentinf spectrum

and if you’re just as hopeless, i wish you well by magnoliclies - does have a colder, more ruthless type janet but one who clearly loves her son & makes sense within the backstory given that's not evil high societal old money socialite

initial of creation, and / the exponent of earth by silvernaut - more tim and janet's grave but is a coming out fic where he tells her he's gay and robin and doesn't assume she'd be a homophobe about it all

dino nuggets and sprite by hyyyperfixated - has an overall kind and caring janet

time slipped through my fingers by oddny - again more tim + janet's grave but also presumes a positive relationship between the two

the circus by zahri - it helps that z and i have almost the same conceptualization of janet + the drakes but i do always love her take on affectionate but fails a bit janet

bones of a dinosaur, bones of a city by zahri - same reasons as above

shut eye by audreycritter - while this version of the janet-tim mother-child dyad is definitely a bit different from how i perceive it, this is still a good and sympathetic version of janet from a while back when there was definitely nothing but slander going on for her and is a very empathetic look at a reason she could have have struggles + does really well within the confines of the fic's premise

my thanks to ms. monroe by loosingletters - the premise is that jack is way worse than he probably was in canon has the fanon bristol next door neighbors to the waynes upbringing for tim, but manages to capture what janet would do

[lesbianrobin]

waking the witch behind the scenes EXCLUSIVE

first of all: this fic started off with a prompt about eddie struggling to hide his magic from buck while said magic constantly Did Things for buck bc eddie just loves him so much. so for the next few paragraphs, keep in mind that the central idea here is eddie essentially attempting to hide his love.

i've seen and enjoyed a few different witch eddie fics and i think they're all so cool!! and i noticed that in most magic eddie fics, the magic is a Family Thing, but more specifically, it's a Diaz Family Thing. and we here at lesbianrobin hq are #feminists so obviously my next thought was, well, what if it's matrilineal? the idea of a "witch" is heavily gendered, and when i started thinking about this fic i was initially gonna take a lot of inspiration from charmed, so i thought it might be neat to make the magic something from his mother's side.

once i decided on that, it occurred to me that the only family we ever see or even really hear about is from the diaz side. eddie is close with his dad's side of the family, but we don't really know anything about his mother's side besides a vague ethnic heritage, so i was like, well, what if they don't really Have much family on that side? and from that came the idea of eddie being isolated in his magic, lacking guidance and support. pretty much all we know about helena's family is that she has some swedish heritage, though there's no telling how far back.

to recap: we have eddie, isolated in his magic. vaguely scandinavian heritage. i start looking into old norse religion and stumble upon seiðr, a type of magic traditionally practiced by women wherein male practitioners were viewed as effeminate and maybe gay. all of which coalesces into eddie's magic essentially being a manifestation of his sexuality and everything else that fails to live up to his parents' expectations.

so. eddie hides his magic. eddie conceptualizes his magic as something separate from himself. eddie disconnects himself so thoroughly from his magic that it operates against his will, that he can't even feel it. magic is gay 🫶🏻

buck knows that eddie is magically doing these little things for him. he complains about the coffee on purpose so that eddie will conjure him good coffee. and it works! yay for bratty whiny buck!

eddie's prophetic dream about his and buck's first time twists every sensation into something negative and overwhelming due to The Repression. he's terrified of coming out and really accepting and acting upon his feelings; once he actually does it, it isn't scary anymore.

the way we never were: american families and the nostalgia trap by stephanie coontz is a great book and very accessible to a general audience! also, BLK & Bold coffee is really good. i am giving buck my exact taste. don't worry about it.

i have some Thoughts about how exactly buck realized eddie has magic, how he and chris started talking about it, and the various times that buck Knew eddie was doing some magic shit and just pretended to be oblivious. however! i'm gonna hang on to those in case i ever want to write a prequel.

aaaand finally: i don't know where the hell that proposal came from. the spirit of eddie dies possessed me.

ok that's it for now love u all hugs and kisses 🫶🏻 bye

[artsharki]

(Erm apologies for writing inconsistencies and also an obvious lack of knowledge about religious terminology... I'm literally just going off what I learned from GO and fics lmao. I am just having fun with this.)

Okay so I have been thinking about my Good Omens, Generation Loss AU lately... Adding some more lore filling if you will. And of course I couldn't conceptualize this AU without drawing something for it!! Pre-fall Ranboo is someone who helped to oversea the creation of humans as well as watched over them on Earth. Which makes their fall all the more tragic as their eventual questioning of the Almighty's cruelty to mankind results in their deviation from Heaven.

Their beautiful smile destroyed in the fall, it becomes replaced with a terrible, toothy snarl. Which is where the Generation Loss mask comes in! In their human form, GO!Ranboo covers the most demonic part of their face. As a duke of Hell Ranboo uses that ranking to monitor the humans they so loved as an angel. That part of their soul never really went away. The betrayal of God shattering everything they thought they knew about the plan for mankind. Ineffable and all that.

He thought he were doing the right thing. Denying the fated suffering of the humans he thought that She (God) loved so much. But his love for the morally grey beings of earth truly changed him. The human condition lighting a flaming interest within them. They fell in love with watching humans fall in love over and over, angel Ranboo (angel name pending) could never get enough.

Idk that’s all I have for now. Writing feels like pulling teeth for me. I much prefer drawing and having everyone else interpret my art for me.

[the-everqueen]

wip tag game

tagged by @two-hands-toward-the-sun. i have...more wips than i remember at any given time, and i just peck at whichever one when the spirit moves me (usually when i'm procrastinating actual work). currently there's eight active in the rotation, with another handful that are more conceptual/bits and pieces i want to come back to later.

Sandman

Lucienne takes the Corinthian for walkies: this is in response to a Valentines day prompt @two-hands-toward-the-sun sent me, "going on a platonic date and being mistaken for a couple." Dream weaponized his sad wet eyes at Luce to make her take some PTO and also provide some enrichment for his recreated masterpiece. they go to the MOMAT

As though attuned to her thoughts, the Corinthian hangs back at a respectable distance—not out of sight, but perhaps out of mind, if she wished. When Lucienne frowns at him, trying to discern whether this is some kind of trick, he makes a show of fiddling with the audio guide, head turned away as he hooks the piece over his ear.

does your husband know the way the sunlight gleams on your wedding ring: Corinthian/Calliope fic in the period between Orpheus and Calliope & Dream's divorce. once again, a woman takes Coco out for her idea of a good time and proves literally anyone else would be a better owner for the Corinthian than Dream.

He means to retreat. He doesn’t think she’s noticed him, and he wouldn’t impose on her privacy. Calliope was always nice to him. But grief smells like weakness, and a Muse’s grief smells different from that of the humans he stalks in dreams, wearing the faces of their long-departed. His mouths water at the scent, unfamiliar but delectable. For a fleeting moment, he wonders what her eyes might taste like, what he’d see if he took them in his own.

gay coworkers: words are HAPPENING in the next installment!

“Technically—" “C’mon, a memory wipe is hardly better—" “I’m not defending his actions, I’m simply pointing out—" “Stop talking about me like I’m not here,” the Corinthian snaps. Matthew and Lucienne exchange guilty glances. “You could at least wait until you’re back at the palace. Doing it in my house, that’s just fucking rude.”

la guard dog literal: Morpheus recreated the Corinthian as a (sort of, semi-eldritch) dog because surely that will fix his behavioral issues. Daniel still rehomes him with Rose Walker.

Jed twists around in his seat. The Corinthian snuffles obligingly at the hand he offers, gives the fingertips a quick swipe with his tongue. Jed’s face splits into a smile. That smile makes something warm unfurl in the Corinthian’s belly, prompts him to worm closer with a thready whimper. No threat. Which is maybe the biggest lie he’s ever told and he didn’t even speak it in human words, but in the moment he desperately wants Jed to believe it, and not just so he can sink his teeth into that vulnerable neck still soft with baby fat.

what if we made those daddy issues literal: semi-period accurate 1920s fic where the Corinthian is Dream's troublesome ward and Matthew is the tutor Dream hires to bring him in line. is this because i'm obsessed with Assad Zaman's outfits in hotel portofino? yes.

“Dream’s not my father.” “I thought—" “He’s my guardian. Keeper. Master. Whatever.” “He—" “Of course he’s benevolent. Can afford to be, I suppose. So long as I perform well.” “Does he—?” “Not how you’re thinking.” Cori barks a short, humorless laugh. “That wouldn’t be conducive to his long-term plans, would it? Breaking his toy before it can be of any real use.” “That’s—" “Good? Yeah. Sure.” Something shutters in his expression. “After all, what would become of this poor orphan child without some generous benefactor to mold him into a productive member of society? Why, then he might just be a scoundrel or, worse—an inconvenient corpse rotting in the road.” “I—" “Well. No use speculating, right?” He flashes a grin that makes Matt think of a dog baring its teeth. “I’ll see you after lunch.” Matt, dumbfounded, watches him walk away.

Logan/X-men

rehome that animal: sequel to the dog crate fic

Mendez isn’t sure what he expected to find in the Wolverine’s hideout. It certainly wasn’t this. This being his former boss, presumed dead after A-T’s last (as in latest, as in final) attempt to retcon its X-23 project several months ago. Mendez didn’t recognize him at first, but he thinks he’d be forgiven for the slight: the Donald Pierce before him looks a lot different from the Reaver commander who’d swanned around in a leather duster and tinted sunglasses, barking orders. Now he’s mostly naked and washed-out looking like maybe he hasn’t seen much sun. His once carefully groomed beard has been shaved to expose sharp cheekbones and a delicate chin. All his muscle and fat is gone, so the jut of his ribs and spine and pelvis show with every small twitch. There’s a lot of twitching, like his body can’t decide whether to prepare for fight or flight.

horse is a one-trick pony and the trick is Werewolves: if you didn't foresee me turning the Reavers into a (literal) wolf pack...well, that's on you at this point.

The pack leader is keeping an eye on him. Not quite staring: casual flickers of his attention between Donald and whatever is happening on the laptop. Mendez’s eyes shine almost green in the bluish screen light. His face looks sharper. His lip twitches and shows the barest glimpse of fang.

...tagging @evenmyhivemindisempty, @cosmictapestry, @aisalynn, @crimeronan, and @stellerssong. no pressure, i just like seeing what people are working on.

[autisticandroids]

I would like a director's commentary on your bleak Harper/Jack fic, thank you. Since it still makes me sad.

<3 fuck yeah. i'm so ready to do this commentary it's gonna take days...

anyway the thing that motivated me to do this in the first place is like. okay. list of reasons.

one is that i kind of wanted to write a fic about jack that both took him seriously and also was not *entirely* just about his relationship with his parents. like jack having something outside of that.

another is that i find harper kind of enticing, as a character? like, there's a lot of meat on her for a one episode villain. the fact that she's never left her home town, "a long line of necromancers," the fact that she killed her boyfriend to keep him!, her seemingly genuine interest in jack, the melodramatic way that the actress played her, the letter.... there's a lot there. and it's crazy to me that there were only two jackharper fics on ao3. also it drives me up the wall that they never brought her back in the show, like, come on.

like actually my first thoughts about jackharper were situated in this longrunning deancas (with jack as their kid) human au that exists mainly in dms between me, @an-android-in-a-tutu, and @pregstiel, which i don't need to get into right now but suffice to say that the sort of final form of dean and cas' relationship in that au is not abusive but it isn't exactly healthy, and dean (being dean) is a pretty domineering and smothering presence in cas' life and also jack's. and jack is like. he's autistic and is fairly disabled by it? he can basically hold a job but can't really care for himself physically (eating meals, keeping his apartment livable, etc.) or really deal with other people at all? so dean is quite involved in, as dean sees it, still parenting him well into his twenties. and is obviously rather domineering and smothering. possibly helping more than jack actually *needs* as such and etc. and perhaps being a bit invasive about it. classic dean. anyway this was all context for jack getting into a relationship with harper and dean just. hating her. because dean just cannot imagine a girl getting with his baby boy for honest reasons. because he just simply needs so much care. she must be after money or something. and all of this dislike of harper is obscuring to dean the actual problem, which is that harper is stalkerishly obsessed with jack and the main reason the relationship is continuing is that harper is kind of domineering in a way that reflects both cas and dean's relationship and dean and jack's relationship, jack isn't really making the choices, he's letting them be made for him because that's what he's used to. but because dean is terminally incapable of self-awareness he does not see that at all. and this was really fun to think about and it kind of got me invested in jackharper, conceptually. though now that i'm saying all this: man it would be really fun and wretched to make a little extra bit of this fic but dean pov.

and then another reason i wanted to write this fic is like. i really enjoy torturing other characters (generally sam and jack) with established destiel. usually in my mind it's sam? like i can honestly provide a preeeeeetty long history of my thoughts on this topic. lol. but you know i get a lot out of like. imagining sam finding out that dean is gay in season fifteen and just having to sit with that. like what if your brother who sucks turned out to have been in the closet his whole life. like he still sucks but now you know this depressing thing about him. and also you can never bring it up to him or tell anyone else. lol. anyway this kind of "man it would suck to be in the blast radius of deancas" impulse is what led to this concept, which is basically what i built the fic around? as i've said, this element was kind of the most fun part for me.

then also like..... as i've said, optimism is one of my top episodes of spn ever just by enjoyability of watch. i like it a lot. and also each time i see it i allow a single tear to roll down my face morning the charmingly "plucky young protagonist"-ish version of jack we could have had. it's so perfectly put together that it manages to avoid being grating despite the like. everything. and a lot of that is the interplay of cheery and dark elements. but also jack is like. way less annoying than that archetype normally is. he's so charming in optimism. anyway i just kind of. wanted to try integrating optimism more into canon. is another reason.

and then over the summer i wrote this fic, which is maybe my fave thing i produced this year, and i wanted to see if i could sustain that high note for a longer period.

okay. without further ado.

Every Relationship Has Its Stuff

Pepperidge Farm. Oroweat. Sara Lee. Wonderbread. Brownberry. King’s Hawaiian. Dean had just specified “sliced bread.” Jack is pretty sure Dean likes Sara Lee butter bread, but its slot on the shelf is empty. He knows Sam likes Brownberry. Jack likes it, too. It’s sweet and molasses-y. He likes it with the tunafish salad Sam sometimes makes for lunch, when Dean is having a nap. 

starting out strong with: hey i like brownberry tuna sandwiches. but also you know. the anxiety of being sent out to get an item and it being out and not being sure if you'll even be believed that it was gone etc.

The bright white lights of the Walmart beat into his eyes. There’s pop music on the speakers, lyrics indistinguishable from instrumentation in a swirling cacophony of synthy noise. Jack thinks he can maybe hear the word married ? And amazing . There’s footsteps behind him, along with the shh of clothing, and chatter in the next aisle - something about the merits of Pop Tarts vs. Toaster Struedel. A cart’s wheel squeaks.

so i actually checked what songs were charting in january uh. 2018? 2019? one of those. anyway. i thought thank u next was a funny choice which would bring an appropriately rancid energy to this opening. anyway. i had fun setting this in a walmart because i wanted to situate this fic in a depressing, fluorescent, branded world. something that actually feels like a midwestern middle of nowhere, as opposed to the bright and cheery fantastical small towns of yockeynatural. it's also inspired somewhat by @davidfosterwallaceandgromit's trapdoor, the way in that fic as the characters become less a part of tv world, the real, unpleasant details of life like ads on the screens at gas stations start becoming real to them.

Jack reaches for the Brownberry. The butter bread is out. This is what they have. And he and Sam like it. His fingers sink into the pillowy bread and-

a little rebellion that isn't even really a rebellion but it has to be framed that way to not be scary, you know? like that gives jack a bit of control over his fear.

All of his muscles lock. It’s instinctual. It’s instinctual because of the pain. The pain and the tearing sensation. The faint ringing in his ears. The tearing sensation in his- chest. The tug on his Grace as it- as it keeps him alive. 

His vision is dark, too dark to see. There is a dribbling feeling. Hot and runny. Like post-nasal drip except. Except on his back. Because one of the major arteries in his heart has been punctured. The strange balloon sensation as his Grace refills his circulatory system, only for blood to keep flowing out. His arteries rippling and clenching.

one of the reasons i didn't want jack to be relying on soul magic here is that i wanted this scene to work without really having tension strung over it. i wanted his grace to protect him without us having to worry about him chewing up his soul to do it.

It shifts inside him, slightly. Whatever it is. He can feel flesh parting, and a little more blood bubbles forth from his arteries. It’s shaking. Trembling. An involuntary shudder wracks Jack’s body, and the hole in him tears a little wider.

He knows this feeling. He’s been stabbed. 

It’s never happened from the back before.

He needs- hm. He needs to retake control of his muscles. It’s a jerky operation, he’s in shock. He has to bypass human neural impulses and do it with his Grace, because the nerves aren’t really firing right now. Contract the tricep - no, wrong one. Contract the deltoid to raise the arm, then the bicep, rotate the elbow, close the hand… got it.

Jack pulls the knife from his chest.

in a lot of ways this fic is what i did instead of stabfest this year. both literally in the sense that this fic is basically why i didn't do stabfest, but also figuratively because i am definitely drawing on the history of deancas horny stabbing that stabfest also draws upon.

It’s a strange sensation. More ripping flesh, combined with strange emptiness. Movement deep inside. Feeling where there should be no feeling. A surge of pain as the blade is taken away and clots that had futilely begun to form around it tear. Jack shudders again, and he coughs, an involuntary spasm. He feels the wetness on his mouth before registering the taste. He’s drooling blood, his lower lip tingles with it, with the stickiness. He can feel it dripping from the corner of his mouth. Beading and drying on his chin.

the image of blood from the mouth is one i liked. also this is intentionally horny. hopefully it came through :3

Flesh knits behind the retreating point of the knife. Soon Jack is good as new, save for the blood on his shirt. 

His muscles begin to work again. His eyes and ears come back online. Just in time for a soft little gasp from behind him.

Jack spins, appreciating his newfound control of his body. The proprioception and delicate balancing required to complete the movement.

He finds himself up against a familiar face.

Big buggy gray eyes, even more bulging than usual in a pixie face. Pointy nose jutting out far enough to nearly touch his own. Lips with a touch of artificial color parted to show large (but human) teeth. He can feel her breathe, feathers of air on his bloodstained mouth.

“Harper?” Jack asks, for lack of a better thing to say.

“Oh, crap.” Her face contorts into an anxious pout, and in a moment she’s stepping back, reaching into the pocket of her hot pink blazer.

Throwing a hexbag on the ground.

i was thinking about how being a necromancer is like. surely that is a type of witch. if harper is going to have tricks up her sleeve they'll be magic

A puff of purple smoke erupts from the bag and envelops her, filling his vision. He can still hear her feet slapping against the tile as she runs. All he can think is hey, you forgot your knife, but she’s gone.

As the smoke clears, Jack licks his lips. They’re salty. Tacky. He scrubs his mouth against his sleeve, trying to get the blood off. Most of it is on his back, and Jack is suddenly glad that he took his jacket off when he got into the store. He’s pretty sure all the blood ended up on the back of his shirt. There’s probably a little on his butt, but the jacket is long enough to cover that. Probably. 

i also enjoyed the sort of menstrual imagery here. jack is coming of age in blood, and there's bloody evidence of it. harper stabbing him woke something up in him.

He’s gonna have to turn all his clothes over to Dean when he gets home. Dean has a special method for getting bloodstains out of laundry, something with salt, and maybe dilute bleach. Jack likes these jeans. He hopes he won’t have to throw them away.

He grabs the bread, and marches to the next aisle.

-

When Jack comes in with the bags, Sam’s in the map room. He helps Jack unload. Ribs and tomatoes into the fridge, ice cream bars in the freezer, bulk peppercorns into the cabinet, bread on the counter. Sam gives a worried grimace when he sees the Brownberry.

sam knows there is hell to pay when small things go wrong

“Sorry,” Jack says. “They didn’t have any butter bread.”

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” Sam says, “I’m sure it’ll be fine.” Sam smiles at him for a moment. “Why don’t you toss me the car keys, and I can head out and get some at the gas station before everyone gets home.”

sam doesn't want jack's mistake to get him punished or start a big fight, so he's quietly sweeping up. perhaps more than he needs to. sam's obsequiousness and nervousness around dean adds to dean's presence as a larger than life fear figure for jack, ya know

Jack tosses him the keys. Sam wrinkles his nose.

“Man, it smells like blood in here for some reason.” Sam glances around. Jack suddenly remembers the gore under his jacket, but somehow, he can’t quite bring himself to let anyone know about seeing Harper. 

“Somebody must have forgotten to clean their machete or something,” Jack says, and Sam nods.

the casual omnipresence of violence <3 <3 <3.

A few minutes later, after he’s heard the car engine start, Jack hides the knife and his bloody jeans under his bed, and tosses the torn shirt in the trash.

continuing the menstrual image. jack is hiding it. he doesn't want his parental figures to know he's changing, that he is beginning to really... exist outside their control, i guess.

-

When Jack sees Harper again, they’re all on a ghost hunt outside Peoria. Sam and Dean are looking into the burial location of a woman who died mysteriously in 1875. Cas is waiting at the cemetery.

peoria is a great super depressing midwest name for a town. just fabulous.

The last time Jack had put on his FBI threads and tagged along as a “junior agent,” Dean had had to shut him up twice with a vicious pinch to the upper arm. He is on a burger run. 

once again jack's small freedoms are taken only when assigned menial tasks. like this is his time to be away from them. but also he is assigned these tasks because he's the lowest status member of the group, you know? they don't trust him with more serious stuff. so it's bittersweet.

He’d spotted a nice space between two bushes as they drove past this Wendy’s, and that’s where he lands, comfortably out of sight of any human. He rehearses in his head. This time he won’t forget that Dean likes the double, not the triple. And he will get a seltzer for Cas, even though he didn’t ask, because Cas likes the bubbles. He marches towards the doors, intentionally ignoring the parking lot’s car exhaust-and-piss smell, and the Frogger-feeling of being in a space where pedestrians are technically allowed but generally unwanted. The noise of the adjacent highway rumbles in his ears. Loud enough that he doesn’t hear footsteps, and when he smells something sweet, at first he’s relieved. Then nothingness.

i dithered so much over whether jack knows what frogger is. but it's such an evocative reference to give that particular feeling of walking somewhere which is built for cars. anyway. chloroform smells sweet, apparently, and i thought since harper knows jack can't really be harmed, she would go for the classics. she's very fictionpilled.

Jack wakes to an itch. It’s not exactly on his skin. More… under it. Like his subcutaneous fat is somehow inflamed. Or his muscles, maybe. Something deeper.

His hands are cuffed. That snaps his eyes open, and he sees the source of the itch. A brilliant sun of orange-red lines stretching out from the chair that he’s bound to to the edge of a twenty foot diameter circle on a concrete floor. A binding sigil. One he doesn’t recognize.

And at the edge of the circle, there she is. 

once again, harper's magic expertise.

The light where they are - Jack glances around at the gray concrete and piled boxes and guesses “warehouse” - is dim enough that he can’t really see her face, at least at this distance. But he can see her shape, petite, hands clasped, wispy curled hair floating to her shoulders, and he can make assumptions.

“Sorry,” she calls, and yeah, it’s definitely Harper. The word comes out sawry, very Nebraskan. “I don’t really know what you are, so I figured better safe.” She sucks air in through her teeth, and Jack can just make out the shape of an embarrassed grimace.

harper doesn't really know much about the supernatural beyond magic. i always find it dumb when characters on spn refer to "a hunter" as if that's a single, coherent type of guy, so i've decided that when harper referred to jack as a hunter, she thought he was some sort of witch hunter, which is a problem it makes sense for her family to have dealt with in the past.

“I-” Jack starts, but his voice gives out before he can continue, his throat dry as gravel. He tries to fill his mouth with spit, tries to swallow, but no dice. He sends a tendril of power into the sigil, and it flashes blood red. He could probably break out, but not without vaporizing several city blocks.

and he kind of, sort of chooses to stay here. because he's maybe a little bit intrigued.

“Oh, sweetie,” Harper says, and she hurries towards him with stiff shoulders and bouncing little steps, delicately avoiding the lines of the sigil. 

harper is not really totally prepared for this.

Now he can see her face. She bends at the waist, head swinging down like it’s on a hinge so the tips of their noses are on a level. And she cups his face with her hand. 

It’s warm. Her fingers are slim, spidering out across his cheek. Her pointer is nearly at the edge of his eye, and the tip of her pinky is tucked under his jaw. Her skin is soft against his.

face touch <3

She presses plastic - a water bottle - to his lips.

It’s just water, he can tell that much. It tastes like plain tap water, cold and quenching, and he gulps it down. The plastic crinkles as she squeezes it. She strokes her thumb over his cheekbone. Maybe the water’s cursed? Hopefully not, because he’s so thirsty. She tips the bottle, and it floods his mouth. He almost gags, but manages to breathe through his nose and slow his swallows.

horny,

“Are you okay?” Her face is close again. She took the empty bottle away, he heard the crinkling plastic, and now he’s seeing her eyes. They’re very big. Her hand is warm on his cheek. Jack tilts his head to feel the blood move around inside. 

“Where am I?” His throat is thick with disuse. It’s as good a starter as any. Probably the most useful information he can find out, right now. Her eyes are very big. 

distracted <3

“Oh, this is a shipping warehouse for a pastry company. I thought it would smell nicer.” She pouts a little. 

harper is just not prepared for this at all. jack could definitely do a better job kidnapping someone due to his hunting experience.

“Yes,” Jack says, he can feel her hand, it’s slipped lower and his voice vibrates against it, “warehouses all just kind of smell the same.” His breathing hitches a little. “Or bad.” One time, Dean had him and Cas stake out outside a meat packing plant. He grimaces at the memory.

see what i mean? warehouses are practically jack's stomping ground because literally most of his life experience is hunting related.

“Ugh, unfortunate,” Harper says, and rolls her eyes, flicking them up dramatically, and Jack strains his own trying to follow them, she’s so close, “I guess you can’t win ‘em all. So, did you ever get my letter?”

“What?” Her lips are slightly glossy. He can feel the movement of his own breath.

“My letter. I sent it to Lebanon.” She stands to put her hands on her hips, and Jack feels the loss of warmth against his cheek.

“No, I mean- no. Sorry,” he says. Grasps for what she might want. “That’s sweet though. That you sent it.”

the placaterrrrrrr

He’s right. She lights up.

“Thanks! I think letter writing is underappreciated these days, especially for love notes. I’m glad you’re someone who understands that.”

“Yeah,” Jack says, “Dean says old formats are always better. Like tapes, or vinyl. I think that includes letters.”

🥴 well

Harper nods.

“I like a lot of old fashioned things. Like dating! Nobody our age ever wants to go on a date anymore. They all just wanna use ‘apps’” - she makes the quote marks with her fingers - “to ‘hang out.’ It’s terrible. Do you like dating, Jack?”

“I’ve-” never gone on a date, he starts to say, but changes course when he remembers where he is, “I- yes! I like… going on dates.”

the placaterrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr. and he's not even necessarily doing it right.

A shadow passes across her face, just for a moment, but then she’s overjoyed, clapping her hands together.

harper jealousy moment <3

The date looks like a card table that Harper hauls out of somewhere in the warehouse and struggles to unfold, and a styrofoam box of mostly cold shrimp scampi. By the time everything is set up, with a folding chair for her and a candle in the middle of the table, she’s red faced and puffing. 

There are plates for the scampi, baby blue with a flower motif, and the pasta slops out of wet styrofoam haphazardly. It’s still warm enough not to be a gelatinous glob, but the fettuccine is tangled. Harper pulls out a cigarette lighter and burns her thumb lighting the candle. She sticks it in her mouth. Jack can see her tongue working, lapping at her injured cuticle. When the digit emerges it’s slick and wet. He can feel the air through his own slightly parted lips.

horny,,

Finally, Harper leans down and looks him in the eye.

“Be a good boy, okay?” she says. Her mouth is still a little shiny with spit. Jack nods. 

like the thing is jack doesn't really even... perceive the problem with what harper has done to him. like most of his interactions with the outside world have involved a lot of torture, murder, and imprisonment, because it's all involved hunting. and he is, well, enjoying the fact that a cute, age appropriate girl is paying attention to him and touching his face and pouring water down his throat.

She closes her eyes and touches the cuffs. They unlock. She flashes him an awkward grin as she slips into her chair. The silence lingers for a little too long before she says “come on, try the pasta.”

Jack stretches his hands. He feels Grace begin to flow, warming them and smoothing out the ache of being held in one position for so long. Three of his knuckles crack of their own accord.

He picks up the fork and does as he’s told.

“I like it,” he says. The pasta glops in his mouth. It’s a little hard to swallow.

one of my themes here is that jack doesn't necessarily know what he likes. almost every time he says "i like [thing]" in this fic he's doing it to please someone else. he's kind of learning his own preferences over the course of the fic, but he hasn't had an opportunity to before. he's been too busy, well, placating. i mean his preferences have to be negotiated! going back to the first scene, even buying the brand of bread he likes can be a transgression.

“And I like you,” Harper says, beaming.

-

Later, when he reappears in the motel room, sans burgers, he finds Sam pacing, and Dean nursing a sullen beer on his and Cas’ bed.

“Where were you?” Sam says, as Jack eyes Dean. “Cas is out looking for you.”

“I was…” he trails off, and then decides on the truth, or most of it. “I was with a girl.”

jack still wants to keep harper to himself.

“A girl?” Dean says, and he doesn’t sound angry, he sounds… surprised.

gay dean winchester voice i thought you were a little homo like your dad, gay castiel.

“Like, a date.” Jack says. And Dean… laughs?

“Hey, that’s my boy,” Dean says, and he stands just to clap Jack on the shoulder. “Just come see me before the third date, alright?” Sam steps back, still looking concerned, but Dean is glowing. He ruffles Jack’s hair, and Jack feels himself smile. Dean is pleased. It feels… warm. Exciting.

gay dean winchester giving jack a good grade in being straight <3 and the thing is. jack does crave dean's approval. is the thing. like it's thrilling. dean is so mercurial that when the sun shines, it shines. jack isn't interested in approval from sam, or even really cas, because he's fairly confident in that. he craves approval from dean. this is like. unfortunately, one of the more genuine pleasures that jack actually likes.

-

On the drive home, Cas holds his hand the whole time.

one of my theses for the fic is that cas' main way of conveying affection to jack is touch, not speech. he's not exactly an accomplished communicator and cas, classically, is Not Thinking about stuff mostly. also, cas is worried here that he's losing his baby....... anxious angel.......

-

Dean is always first to jump in the shower when they all get home. He says that he’s too spoiled for motel room showers, these days, what with the bunker’s water pressure. He’s already sitting at the map table, wet hair combed back, by the time Jack has plugged his phone in and wandered back out to the kitchen for a snack.

neuroticism boy <3

“Hey, Jack,” he says. Jack stops, cereal box in hand. “Good job with the ghost back there. Even if you were gone for a couple hours in the middle.”

“Thanks, Dean,” Jack says, uncertain.

“Now that you’re getting a taste for the outside world,” Dean raises his eyebrows meaningfully, “it’s time we started taking you on some real hunts again. Let you get your hands dirty. This is a family business, after all.”

it sure fucking is.

“Yes. Yes, I’d like that.”

jack saying he likes stuff again <3

“Good kid.”

approval seeking missile.

-

A few days later, Jack finds himself dialing the number Harper put in his phone.

“So there’s this coffee shop in Lebanon…”

-

“...And then she wakes up to this mysterious monster stroking her face, because he was watching her sleep. Obviously.” Harper’s eyes are closed. She slowly twirls the stir stick in her caramel mocha.

“And she’s okay with that? When he just kidnapped her?” Jack leans forward. That’s what humans do, to show interest.

“Of course!” Harper says. “It’s romantic.”

“Makes sense,” Jack says, nodding. Romantic . Intriguing. He makes a mental note.

She regales him with the rest of the plot of Phantom of the Opera, and that’s easy. That, he’s ready for. But on the internet, it said you were supposed to talk about your interests on dates. So he had tried to prepare. He likes Star Wars . He likes Riverdale , although he’s only seen the first two seasons. He likes… phone games? He’s beaten all of Bouncy Hills , is that an interest? He likes… hunting?

i needed a romance where the love interest watches the mc sleep, and by happenstance i had literally just seen a performance of phantom while i was writing. it was originally a non-existent book, but i was so careful to be specific and real with all the other brands and pop-culture references and stuff, so i was happy phantom dropped into my lap at the last minute. oh and i chose not to use twilight bc that's too generic. anyway. we also have jack here really not knowing what he likes and wants. he doesn't really have interests outside of the family business, you know? he's an extension of his parents, he's not his own person. but he wants to be.

“So, what do you do all day,” Harper asks, and Jack says:

“Well, Sam and Dean have been teaching me to shoot.”

“They are? How come?” Harper’s eyes grow impossibly wider. They’re like wet marbles. Jack breathes in through his nose, and he can smell her strawberry lipgloss.

“Well, Sam says in case I lose my powers, I should know how to hunt the old fashioned way. And Dean says,” he pauses to pull his tongue back and take a breath so he can get the impression right, “‘ there are certain things a young man needs to know .’ So I’ve been learning.”

god dean is so funny

She giggles.

“So you’re like my very own Robinhood? Could you shoot an apple off my head?”

“No.” Jack shakes his head. His stomach twists as the image of Harper’s head bursting like a watermelon occurs to him. But everything is fine. He’s seen headshots before. Everything is fine. “I’m not very good,” he says, feeling vaguely apologetic. Harper frowns. 

i love how harper is ALSO incapable of seeing red flags. what if you were BOTH raised in different serial killer cults and only knew how to live your lives from books and movies.

“Aww,” she says. “Can I at least see your gun sometime?” Her hand brushes against him. Lands on his thigh. Jack feels a little hitch in his chest.

“Yeah, sure,” he says, after a long beat. He’s been using Sam’s for practice. But he can probably borrow one from Dean’s collection. “And besides,” he adds, “Dean says only chumps shoot for the head. A decent gunman will aim for the heart, every time.”

symbolism, whatever. also, when he borrows dean's gun to look cool <3

-

Dean and Sam are always talking about how much they love IHOP pancakes, but Jack likes Dean’s pancakes the best. Dean always makes them with chocolate chips, and cooks frozen strawberries into a syrup. Jack likes the butter they have at home better, too, the unsalted kind. The salted kind stresses him out, it’s too much.

jack once again sharing my food tastes, fuck salted butter. anyway. when it's domestic (evil).

Jack has a bite halfway to his mouth, slathered in strawberry syrup with a fresh (though still slightly green) banana, when Dean turns to him from the head of the table.

the banana will return.

“So, Jack,” Dean says, and Jack freezes, fork in the air. 

He meets Dean’s eyes and waits. Sam and Cas are still, as well.

“You went out. On your own.”

Jack swallows.

“Yeah, um. I’m… seeing someone.”

“Seeing someone? Like, a girl?”

“Yes.” Syrup drips onto Jack’s plate.

“Is it serious?”

“I… I don’t know,” Jack finds himself saying. He and Harper have been on two dates. What does that mean? “I like her.”

now this is more questionable. does he like her? he's certainly attracted to her. but is he dating her because he likes her or because he's a placation machine. like honestly this fic is kind of about the interplay of genuine pleasure and placation/approval seeking.

Dean mhm s.

menacing...

-

Jack needs to figure out where else he can take Harper on a date. But the problem is he’s… never really been anywhere? Motels all over the country, sure, and police stations, but for a date? He’s been to the Walmart, and to the Starbucks just outside Lebanon. He’s been to the closest bar to pick up Dean, once? He’s been in the Impala. But he’s never really been out in the world. Not the way normal people are, every day. He doesn’t even live in a house. Hasn’t ever really been in one for longer than a few minutes. The fluorescent light above his head flickers.

please hold my hand and imagine with me jack picking up dean from a bar. bad <3

-

Jack is watching Clone Wars in the Dean Cave when Cas comes in and sits next to him on the couch. Jack takes his headphones off. The leather creaks. Cas is a solid, warm presence, and Jack leans into him. 

headphones will return.

“What are you watching?” Cas asks.

“ The Rise of Clovis . I’m rewatching season six.” Jack shuts the laptop entirely.

had to interview my clonewarspilled friend @butchcastiel for this line. this is an episode where anakin beats a guy padme is fake-dating to a bloody pulp...

“Oh. I liked that one.” Cas strokes a hand through Jack’s hair. “I was thinking, Jack,” he says.

...which is why cas likes it <3

“About what?”

“I thought we could go on a little vacation together. A fishing trip. Dean says that that’s something fathers and sons do, away from the rest of the family.” Cas squeezes his arm.

yet the right hand knows not what the left hand is doing. an escape attempt, even if cas isn't thinking of it that way.

“Yeah, of course,” Jack says. He would like to spend time with Cas. Away from. From everything.

jack is though. maybe. in the back of his mind.

-

Sam and Dean are talking in the map room. Jack can’t hear what about, but he hears the table rattle. Someone had slammed their fist on it. He puts his headphones on. She can kill with a smile, she can wound with her eyes…

i thought this was a funny song choice.

-

There’s a soft knock on Jack’s doorframe. The door is open, but Sam is always careful to announce himself.

Jack looks up from his phone. He’d been playing Royal Match, nothing too interesting.

once again trying to stick to brands.

“Hey, Jack,” Sam says, a little apologetic. Sam is nearly always apologetic.

“Hi, Sam.” Jack waits. Sam will spit it out, eventually.

“I just wanted to,” Sam ducks his head a little as he enters the room, as always, even though he isn’t actually quite tall enough for his head to hit the doorframe, “you know, talk.”

“I like talking to you,” Jack says. 

this. is also maybe not true <3

“Yeah.” Sam’s mouth twitches. “I thought since, you know, you’re dating and all that, we could have a kind of, you know, chat. About dating.” It only takes Sam three steps to reach the bed, and he sits next to Jack. Jack locks his phone.

The silence is a little uncomfortable. Sam is making a face. There is some kind of importance that Sam and Dean are putting on all this that Jack does not really understand, but he wishes they would get over it. He doesn’t want to say that, though.

“It- it can be nice. You know,” Sam starts, “meeting new people. Getting, um, involved. You know, butterflies, and all that.”

“Butterflies?”

“Figure of speech.” Sam huffs a laugh. “I mean getting, you know, infatuated. When you really like someone and they make you nervous and excited at the same time.”

That seems right. Jack scoots a bit to turn more towards Sam.

jack is maybe not interpreting "nervous" in the way sam means it. in fact sam may actually be reinforcing some bad stuff for jack like "it's normal to be afraid of people you are close to" <3

“And I just wanted to say… that’s okay. If you want to, you know, put yourself out there. Experience new things. Get away from the family for a bit.” Sam smiles, but it’s more like a kind of grimace. “I just wanted to say that you should… be careful. Sometimes a girl can, um, she can change you. Not always in ways that you like. So uh, keep an eye on that.”

ruby mentionnnnnn. anyway if i was ready to add maybe 5k more words to this fic it would have had a whole samwena subplot where sam neurotically freaks out about his own fetish for evil women. also hilariously. jack is in fact kind of replicating one of sam's patterns in this fic. but maybe not exactly this one <

Jack is a bit lost, but Sam is still grimacing at him, so he nods.

“I will. Don’t worry.” 

Sam looks relieved.

“Great. You’re a great kid, Jack.”

-

Harper has started texting Jack “good morning” every morning. With a little heart. 

Usually, they come in around eight. He anticipates them each day. They make his heart pick up speed. Jack doesn’t sleep much, now that his Grace is back, so responding ends up marking time for him in a way the lightless bunker can’t. It’s nice, a little deadline. He has to respond, or she’ll get mad. Like clockwork.

jack loves to be afraid in his relationships it's so familiar.

Morning, he sends. For an emoji, this morning, he picks the heart eyes face.

-

Dean is in the kitchen. Outside in the hallway, Jack can hear him. He’s putting the dishes away, judging from the clatter. Probably in a good mood, then. Jack can come in.

All of the stock pots are on the kitchen counters. Dean is stacking them by size to fit them in the upper cabinet where they go. 

“Dean?” Jack says.

“Yeah?” Dean answers, still fiddling with the pots. It’s almost more of a yup, actually. Like yeeauhp.

i put so much effort into the deanisms in this fic.

“You said to come talk to you. Before the third date.” Jack waits. Dean puts his pots down. Turns around. 

god dean is so sitcompilled

He takes a breath, holds it for a moment, and lets it out in a sigh, eyes closed. Jack steps back, ready to leave Dean alone, but when Dean opens his eyes again, he frowns at Jack’s movement.

“C’mere, kid.” Jack steps forward again, close enough that Dean puts a hand on his arm, draws him in until they’re side by side leaning against the counter. “Do you know what a condom is?”

Jack has never heard the word. He feels the slight pinch of a definition slotting into place in his mind, a latex sheath worn on the penis during sex to prevent pregnancy and disease. The image presented is of a little blue ring in a square packet.

He nods.

“Okay, great,” Dean says. “I’m gonna go get one in a minute. Show you how to put it on. But I want to impress upon you that latex is your best friend.”

Jack nods again.

“The first rule,” Dean points a finger at him, “is that if a chick says she’s on birth control, no she isn’t. That’s your responsibility. You don’t want twenty years of child support, and we don’t want some kind of double nephilim running around. Plus, I’m pretty sure you’re too magic for the clap, but let’s not risk it.” Jack is staring at the refrigerator, listening to Dean’s words. He’s not sure what the clap is. “You still with me, kid?”

DEAN MISOGYNY MOMENTTTTTTTTTT also dean being like you shouldn't breed because you're genetically evil moment

“Yes,” Jack nods aggressively. He turns to look Dean in the eye.

“Good.” Dean pats his arm. “The second rule is, make sure everyone’s having fun, capisce? If you want her to come back, it’s not just do what feels right or whatever hippie crap they probably teach in schools these days. Girls are like cars, it’s mechanical. You have to understand how things work and put some elbow grease in, understand me?”

gay dean winchester: you think sex with women is supposed to make you feel good? bake you an apple pie, maybe? it's supposed to make you miserable that's why it's sex with women. i wanted dean to have some deranged misogynistic things to say, but i didn't want it to come off as rapey because that just like... isn't his derangement. that's how i came up with the "hippie crap" line. i wanted it to come off more "insanely regimented and rules-oriented" than "sleazy." also, carfucker <3

“I understand.” Jack blinks once.

“Okay, follow me.” Dean grabs a banana for some reason, then beckons as he marches out of the kitchen.

RETURN OF THE BANANA

Dean explains his system as they walk. “First of all, don’t go straight for the cooch. That, heh, makes you an asshole. Show her a good time, first. It’s called foreplay, and it’s important. You know, kiss her, touch her, all that stuff.” He gesticulates with the banana. “Depends on the girl, but some common places they like to be kissed, touched, licked, lightly pinched, or tickled are on the neck, collarbone, tops of the shoulders, just behind the ears, breasts (especially the nipples), sides, hips, bellybutton, small of the back, underside of the stomach, and inner thighs. Be gentle, no girl likes to feel pawed at unless she has some kinda serious daddy issues.” Dean glances at Jack. Jack follows him into his and Cas’ room.

i just love it when dean says heh. he's such a heh guy. also. no girl likes to feel pawed at unless she's got some serious daddy issues, likely thing for dean winchester to say <3. also, well. stay tuned for more info about jack's bedroom preferences.

“Once you’re cleared for landing, though, there’s a method. You don’t just stick it in.” Dean sits on his bed with a grunt, and starts rummaging in the bottom drawer of his end table. “Damn,” he says, as an aside, “I thought I was up shit creek.” He withdraws a cardboard box like a box of bandaids from the drawer and puts it on the bed, next to the banana. 

“Okay. Well, you're gonna want to touch her, first. You can look up diagrams on the internet for help with what it's gonna look like, but find the clitoris. Get your fingers a little wet first. If she's wet, use that. Otherwise you can lick your fingers or use a condom-safe lube. Then stroke it, and press gently. You can stick your fingers in, too, but only if she's wet. If she doesn't get into it, then you can suck her clit, that never fails. If she's really into it, you can stick your tongue in, but don't start there, work up to it.” Dean looks at Jack for confirmation. Jack mhms . “You know, I tried to teach your dad all this stuff. Never got the sense he listened too closely. I suppose we know why, now.” Dean grins, looking off into the distance. There's a pause, and then he clears his throat. 

gay dean winchester: i tried to teach your dad, my partner who i am sleeping with homosexually, how to have sex with women. but obviously we know he's gay now, because he's having sex with me. so it makes sense that he didn't listen to my unhinged "advice."

“Alrighty. During all this, you should try to stay, uh, ready, as they say, or she might get offended. That shouldn't be too hard at your age, but if it becomes a problem, you can utilize the three d’s - distract, distract, and distract. No girl is thinking about your dick while she's getting her pussy licked. And it's great cover if you need to jerk off a little or think about something else to get back at attention, if you know what I mean.” Jack doesn't, but agrees anyways. 

gay dean winchester, after having just discussed how his same sex partner is gay, in their shared bedroom: obviously you won't always be able to get it up or keep it up, that's completely normal and you shouldn't be discouraged.

“So! This,” Dean reaches into the box and pulls out a packet, “is a condom.” He bares his teeth and tucks the foil between them, ripping it open. Sam is always telling Jack not to open things that way. The latex inside is red, and not blue. The banana has reappeared in Dean’s hand. It's bright yellow. perfectly ripe with one brown spot. Dean’s fingers sink in a little. “When you put it on, you pinch the tip,” he demonstrates, “and roll it down.” The latex makes the banana odd textured and shiny. Jack is aware that some condoms are lubricated , which is probably why this one is so slippery looking. “These ones,” Dean shakes the box, “are expired.” he pulls a face that Jack can’t really parse. “If you’d come to me a few years ago, you’d never have found me disappointing Tom Lehrer like that, but I guess I’m getting old. And it’s not so relevant, these days. But I can’t have you packing expired rubber, so tomorrow, you and I are gonna go to the drug store and we’re gonna pick up a box, how’s that sound?”

i spent so much time trying to figure out whether it was reasonable for dean to know who tom lehrer is..... ended up asking my dad......

“Sounds good,” Jack says. 

“Good kid,” Dean says, and claps Jack on the shoulder. “My dad always said if you're not mature enough to look the cashier in the eye while you buy condoms, you're not mature enough to be using ‘em. Now, I’ve got one last thing for you. This,” Dean reaches across the bed again, twisting his body to get into the drawers, “is a key to your room.” He produces a big brass skeleton key, easily the length of one of his fingers. “Remember to lock up before you get up to anything, eh?”

hits you with the "my dad always said" beam. also big boys who fuck have finally earned the right to privacy for the first time ever.

Jack nods. Before he gets up to sex. Is what Dean means. Because that’s private.

“So, what do you say about coming back to the kitchen and helping me make dinner, before you get too grown up to lick the spoons?”

-

Sam is the only person home when Jack finally invites Harper over, and he’s promised to make himself scarce “unless you need anything.” Dean and Cas are out on a hunt together, for, according to Dean, “a little alone time.” But Dean has given his blessing for the date. He showed Jack where to find microwave popcorn, and how to melt chocolate to drizzle on top. He bought a box of pop just for the occasion, told Jack which beer he was allowed to steal, and even taught Jack how to mix a cocktail called an old fashioned. Apparently “ chicks hate straight whiskey .” 

kansas is in the pop belt. so i feel justified in saying pop here. also dean is so happy that jack is getting a good grade in being straight and even happier that dean gets to micromanage it every step of the way <3 <3 <3

Harper knocks softly, but the acoustics of the main hall of the bunker are such that it echoes around the place. A kind of whispery thrum, by the time the sound is done bouncing.

When Jack opens up, she's wearing a red jacket. It’s so bright. He’s never seen anyone other than Rowena wear something so colorful. There’s a thread loose near the collar in a way Rowena would never tolerate, though.

man jack doesn't know any women and also everyone on supernatural dresses the same. lord. anyway the loose thread is because she's laundering shit instead of dry cleaning it because she's living in her carrrrrr

“Hi.” He waves at her.

“Hi.” She waves back.

Their footsteps echo as they skitter down the stairs, Jack first, then Harper.

“It’s so… spacious,” Harper says, her cheeks stretching out in a smile that Jack is pretty sure you could qualify as nervous.

“Yeah, you know, it’s Men of Letters.” He’s halfway through his answer when he remembers to look at her when he talks.

“What’s that?” She cocks her head. The greenish lighting of the bunker washes her out. It even sucks the color from her clothes.

“You know, I’m not sure. Sam and Dean are apparently legacies, whatever that means. And some of them are British? I think Ketch was one.” The wood of the main room gives way to the concrete of the hallway under his feet as he leads her to the Dean Cave. 

“Ketch?” 

“Yeah, he’s… he’s a guy we know, I guess.”

hey did you guys remember that jack apparently video calls with ketch. i do.

Once they’re in the La-Z-Boys, she puts on a show called Pushing Daisies , which Jack likes. The bright colors and narrator make it easy to follow. He likes the world the main characters live in. It seems nice.

like the thing about 14x06 optimism is that it's basically a whole episode reference to pushing daisies. which i find charming. even if i don't actually like pushing daisies that much.

“Isn’t it so cute?” she stage-whispers, as Ned and Chuck play outside in the garden.

“Yeah,” Jack says. He’s not sure what’s supposed to be cute about accidentally killing your mother, but he makes a note of it.

jack voice that's the thing i'm sensitive about..... also this is a special treat that will help us later.

“Hey, um,” Harper says, “I’m sorry I stabbed you,” while the funeral director dies on the toilet.

“Oh, um. Okay,” Jack says.

“You don’t think it means I don’t love you, do you?” she sucks air in through her teeth. “Vance thought it meant I didn’t love him.”

“No, no,” Jack says, “getting stabbed hurts a lot less than getting shot, and people who love me have shot me before.”

Harper nods, contemplative, as Ned and Chuck stare at each other in horror.

i liked how this made it feel like the tv characters were reacting to the insane things that are being said. also, harper's reaction to the thing jack just said:

Jack’s hand is resting on the arm of his chair, she brushes her fingertips against his. It takes him a moment to discern what she wants, but then their hands hang between the chairs, joined, as Ned and Chuck kiss through their plastic wrap.

the placaterrrrr

-

“She sounds very sweet,” Cas says. “Your father did that when we first met as well. Stabbed me, I mean.” His face has gone dreamy.

well. as i said. this fic is situated in the cultural history of deancas horny stabbing... anyway. when cas' baby boy grows up to share his tastes <3

Jack nods. Dean. He means Dean.

-

Jack knows how to use Google. “What do boys and girls do on dates” is an easy enough query. And he has more questions. 

“Why do boys and girls like each other.” 

“What do girls like.”

“What do boys like.”

“What do people in relationships do.”

“How to date.”

“What do roses mean.”

“Why are diamonds a girl’s best friend.”

“What’s marriage.”

“Why do people like sex.”

“How to have sex.”

-

They’re watching Lost Boys again, but Jack has figured out how to get away with looking at his phone. Harper has been texting him a lot lately.

part of this is like. well the lost boys thing is one more way in which jack is not master of his own destiny. he doesn't even get to pick the movies he watches, it's one more way in which he's not allowed to develop outside the family and it makes sense that it would annoy him. but also maybe the issue here is that he is perhaps, scared of failing to answer harper.

Bzzt. So you guys kill more than just witches?

Yeah, Jack types, we kill all sorts of things.

Bzzt. That’s so scary. My mom only ever told me about witch hunters. That's all I ever really needed to know back home.

There are a lot of monsters out there. Sam and Dean have killed a lot of different types.

Bzzt. Can I see one?  

Jack blinks. The impulse to tell her that she has strikes him, but that would be weird. It would be a weird thing to say. She doesn’t know he’s a monster. Probably.

just a little reminder that jack is a person who was born into the leopards eating people's faces party, and that he's trying to recruit harper into it as well.

Sure. I’ll get them to take us along on a hunt sometime.

-

Sam catches him after breakfast. Hovering at his shoulder as he loads the dishwasher.

“I was wondering if you would be up for some shooting practice,” Sam says.

Jack can’t stop himself from rolling his eyes a little, but he nods.

sam is kind of jack's least favorite parent. he's close to cas, and is scared of/respects/seeks approval from dean, so sam is the odd man out, even though sam clearly does a lot of the material parenting work (teaching him things, helping him get out of trouble with dean, etc.)

He generally uses Sam’s gun at the range. It’s more comfortable in his hand than any of their spares, and Sam’s promised to get him a similar model once he’s ready to start out on hunts.

Jack hates the range. The noise-canceling earmuffs he has to wear give him a headache, and the kickback of the pistol jars the bones in his wrists. His aim sucks, and when he corrects it with his Grace, Sam makes him start over. “That's not the point.” Jack doesn't really understand what the point is.

jack putting on headphones to muffle noise is an image i stuck to in this fic. it was fun to play around with it.

Today they're doing 25 yards, at least, which is a lot easier. Jack starts out too low, but manages to walk his shots up until he's hitting nines, mostly. He still flinches at the shots, even with the earmuffs, but he's managing to keep it more subtle. Sam probably won't even notice. Hopefully.

yesssss flinchboy

One last crack, and that's actually a dead center hit. 

Something touches his back, and he jumps. Whirls. The gun is still in his hand, safety off.

jack gets to point a gun at dean for a change >:3

“Whoa there, sharpshooter, a little tense?” Dean says. Jack sees the words more than hears them. Lowers the gun. Tugs off his earmuffs. 

and dean just like. has no idea there's any tension in the household.

Dean’s hand. Dean’s hand patting him on the back. His heart is still racing a little, and he feels the corner of his mouth lift, against his will. Dean had been watching the whole time. Dean saw him hit the bullseye.

i tried to use the descriptor of jack's heart beating faster specifically when it's ambiguous whether he's excited or scared. anyway, approval seeking missile. jack doesn't even want to be that? like it's been clear so far that he is like. knowingly nervous of dean and unhappy living under him. but he also cannot help craving the approval.

His phone vibrates in his pocket. Harper’s good morning text.

another thing that it's ambiguous if jack is excited or scared about.

-

There aren’t any Aquariums in Lebanon, or in Smith Center. There aren’t really museums, exactly, either, at least not ones that aren’t basically run out of someone’s house. There aren’t roller rinks or even big malls. So Jack does his best to do as the internet says, and invites Harper to see a landmark instead: the Geographic Center of the Contiguous United States.

Well, he invites her, but she’s the one who picks him up in her yellow punchbuggy. It’s only about a half hour from the bunker, but she grips the steering wheel a bit alarmingly on the highway and grimaces.

everyone on this stupid show has a stupid ass fancy car. i thought a punchbuggy would be the logical choice for harper.

“I’m not, you know, really all that used to driving.” She gives a nervous giggle as the car she cut off the get to the exit lane beeps at her. “In McCook… I just- there were barely stoplights. We had a couple old guys there who went around on golf carts. Like in the road. I mostly just walked.”

Jack nods. He knows the feeling. He mostly just flies.

“I don’t drive either,” he tries, “I don’t get out much.”

“I like that in a man,” she grins, and turns her head, eyes firmly off the road. “It means you can’t cheat on me with some hussy. I don’t know what I’d do.” Her tone is trying for joke, but it isn’t quite working. She winks, but is also giving him somewhat of an intense stare.

He feels his cheeks heat, and his heart pick up.

ambiguous whether he's nervous or excited <3

The car hits the rumble strip, and Harper squeaks and turns back to the road.

The inside of the bug stinks of a rather pungent air freshener, and underneath that, something vaguely greasy. He wants to wrinkle his nose, but that might be bad. There’s a single fry in the cupholder. The back is crammed with junk: some cardboard boxes, a white trashbag full of clothes, and what looks like camping stuff. There’s a space cleared behind Harper’s seat, but it isn’t too big. Looks like just enough to put her seat back.

YEEEEEEAHHHHHH LIVIN IN HER CAR NOT COPING WITH REAL LIFE.

The Geographic Center of the Contiguous United States is mostly just a lump of rock. There’s a flag on top, obviously, but there isn’t much more to do once they’ve both climbed up and climbed down again. (The rock, not the flagpole, although Jack had considered trying to go up that, too. Just for a moment. Before he felt how slippery it was.)

“You know, it isn’t actually the geographic center,” Jack says. He’s supposed to make conversation.

“Really?” Harper says. The pitch is going up. She’s interested. He’s done well. “Then why…” she waves her hand at the flag.

“Apparently, the real center is on a farm up that way somewhere. Somebody owns it.” He points vaguely north. He’s quickly running low on Wikipedia facts he memorized for the date.

There’s a little hole in her red jacket. He taps her on the shoulder and puts a finger to it, but she flinches away. Now that he’s looking, the whole thing is looking a bit tattered. She grimaces.

the jacket deteriorates more.

“Sorry. It’s kind of hard to do dry-cleaning when you’re living in your car.” She looks away. “Everything is so hard out here. In McCook I knew where everything was and how everything worked. And everyone knew each other! And liked each other! And out here everything is gray and- and it's nothing but chain stores and corn fields and I don't know how any of it works! I got a parking ticket the other day, Jack! I don't even have a checkbook, how am I supposed to pay it? The outside world is so- so unromantic!”

definitely thinking of hero's journey here. except she got plucked out of yockeynatural which is even more fantastical and much more idyllic. anyway. as i said earlier i was also totally thinking of trapdoor. also, harper voice "romantic" <3

A single tear slips down her face.

“Oh.” He isn’t sure what to say to that, and her face is dark, so he just takes her hand instead. It seems to cheer her up a little, and Jack makes a mental note.

“I'm glad I have you, though,” she says, and squeezes his hand.

They end up wandering towards the US Center Chapel, a few yards off. The only building visible along the rather desolate highway edge. 

Jack remembers something he read about the chapel.

“Harper, check this out,” he says, pointing to a wooden box near the entrance. “Look, you can write little notes.”

“Oh, that’s so sweet! I guess the outside world can be nice sometimes.” exclaims Harper, her mood abruptly turning, “We should write something.”

“Yes.” Jack considers what he’s read on the internet. “You can’t go wrong with a classic.” That’s what Dean would say. He tears a slip of paper from the pad next to the box. Writes out H + J and traps the letters in a little heart.

handjob lol

“Oh, Jack,” Harper says, brushes her hand against his cheek. Her fingers are so soft. Delicate. He draws in a sharp breath. Her eyes look a little teary. She hesitates a moment before putting the paper in the slot, but it slips in eventually. 

FACE TOUCHING

She falls against him. She’s so little, her weight is barely an impact as he catches her and her head is under his chin, but she clutches around his ribcage and buries her face in his collarbone, and oh wow.

-

Cas is standing in the library when Jack walks in. His back is to the door, but Jack can feel his father watching him.

cas is the only person in this fic who jack refers to as his dad.

He goes to stand next to Cas. Cas reaches out, puts an arm around his shoulder. Jack leans against him.

“So, how are things with Harper?” Cas says it casually but there is a jolt of energy behind the words that he isn’t letting out on the human plane.

“They’re good. She likes me.”

Cas squeezes him a little tighter. He can feel Cas’ tendrils around him again. He couldn't, as a human.

when they hug in their trueforms... weh.......

“Dean told me that I should have a discussion with you about intimacy.” He’s looking at Jack now.

“Um,” Jack starts, “I think Dean uh, mostly covered it…”

“There are elements that we experience that I don’t think Dean will understand.” We. Oh. Of course. “I want to share…” Jack feels Cas’ consciousness begin to entwine with his and realizes what’s about to happen. He pulls back. 

as @restlesshush put it: when cas is your dad and starts mindmelding with you and you've been burned before

“I don’t want to know what it’s like to have sex with Dean.” The words come out sharper than he intended, and Cas’ face falls. Jack can feel him wilting. “Sorry,” he adds, trying to save things.

ENMESHMENT LOSS :'( cas wants to share everything with jack and envelope him and become one person and etc. and he's HURT that jack doesn't want to know about sex with dean. jack's REJECTING him as a parent. :c

“Are you sure?” Cas asks.

“Yeah. I just- sorry.”

Suddenly Cas is holding him with both arms, face in his shoulder.

cas feels like he's losing jack to the outside world, as i've said. this may be part of the motivation for that fishing trip, as well.

“Dean says you’re growing up,” he murmurs. Jack feels it more than hears it. He raises an arm and pats Cas on the back, the way he’s seen Dean do.

i really wanted to make this scene longer and more comedic as i've said, but it just was not happening. i needed it to be late in the fic and i needed late in the fic to be more serious, you know?

-

Harper is cute when she’s sleeping. She throws an arm up over her eyes and curls up, grasping one knee to her chest. In the orange of the streetlights, it’s adorable.

It’s a lot of work, getting up on the hood of her car without too much noise, but as long as he sits criss-cross applesauce, it’s pretty comfortable. And the one time she woke up, she gasped like she was scared, her mouth wide and plush and shiny, but then she blushed firetruck red and grinned and made a little heart with her hands, so this is probably what he was supposed to do. It’s romantic. 

just like harper's book! jack is trying to do the correct thing and he has no idea how to do that except from media and what harper has told him. and she has no idea what a red flag is so she thinks it's all cool.

-

Bzzt. So, what kind of music do you like?

I like classic rock.

Bzzt. Oh, cool. What do you like about it?

Well… Hm. Jack doesn’t know that much about music. What does he like? He knows… he knows what Dean likes. Does Jack even like music? It’s not a question he’s ever asked himself.

JACK FINALLY GRAPPLING WITH THE IDEA THAT HE MAY NOT LIKE THE THINGS HE THINKS HE DOES.

I just think it’s cool, I guess.

Bzzt. Okay!

-

The next time Harper comes over for a date, they watch Clone Wars . Harper says it's only fair, given that they watched her show last time.

They end up in Jack’s bedroom, since Sam, Dean, and Cas are watching The Beguiled in the Dean Cave. 

i mean the one from the seventies with clint eastwood obviously. anyway. thought that was a funny pull.

It's comforting, watching Clone Wars on a laptop. He's been doing it since he was only a few days old. Some of his first memories - real ones, not the strange dreams from before - include doing just this. 

return to the womb boy <3

He pulls up the movie first. Of course. But the opening crawl is barely over when he feels Harper tugging at him. She's kneeling beside him, sockfooted on the bed, shoes politely tucked next to his door. 

He turns, and suddenly her hand is on his jaw. A shiver runs through him, memories making his pulse speed up. Harper over him, pressure. Plastic at his lips. He closes his eyes. It's instinctive. Doesn't see but feels her pull him in.

ambiguous whether he's afraid or turned on. remember when she kidnapped him for a first date and then manhandled him?

Lip against lip is- It's interesting. Jack has touched his lips before. He's certainly put them against things. Food. His pillow. the turned up collar of his coat. And yet- and yet this is different. Something in it makes him shiver. 

Her hands are under his overshirt. Cool and powdery. He feels his stomach tighten as they sneak up his sides, brushing all the way.

Harper sucks his lip into her mouth. Scrapes it with her teeth. He feels a sharp movement of his own diaphragm, almost a hiccup, as she does it. 

He opens his eyes. Watches Harper devour his mouth. Her eyes, an inch or two away, flit under their lids like a girl dreaming. 

Cas had told him that he shouldn’t try to eat her. That he might get confused because he wanted something, but that eating wouldn’t be what he wants. He’s not sure what he wants.

this was my compromise since the cas sex ed scene had to be shortened.

He likes her.

this is the first time he's telling the real truth when he says he likes something. it comes after the music reckoning, so now jack knows that he's not sure of all his likes. but he's sure of this one.

Jack feels her move, and she’s light, but the way the canvas straps on his duffel bag are light. Weighing almost nothing, but holding everything. She’s across his lap, boxing him in. Straddling him. He can feel the heat, an emanation from between her legs. Jack chokes slightly. She leans forward, her body pressing against his until they’re collarbone to collarbone. Her lips brush his ear, and she whispers: “I’m better in bed than that orange slut will ever be.”

-

Dean catches the two of them sneaking to the door.

“You must be Harper,” he says, to Jack’s mortification. “Don’t I know you from somewhere?”

dean probably has enough cte at this point that he doesn't actually remember optimism

-

Sam jumps a little when Jack taps him on the shoulder. He always does that.

“Hey Jack,” he greets, shaking his hair out of his face. “What’s up?” He shuts his laptop and turns so he’s sitting sideways on the heavy wooden library chair.

“I wanted to talk to you about something,” Jack says. He fists his hands. He is going to ask. He is going to ask about Harper.

“Of course. You know you can always talk to me.”

“Yes. I like talking to you.” Is that true? Jack has never wondered before if that’s true. He is going to ask.

you see jack becoming more critical.

“So what’s up?”

He is going to ask.

“Can Harper come on a hunt with us?” The words don’t come out with the right inflection, but they’re out.

“Oh, uh, sure?” Sam says. “She knows, right? Cas said she knows. And she has some… ability…” Sam's mouth twitches, and he looks away.

sam projecting ruby and/or rowena again.

“Oh. Why wouldn't she?”

Sam's next breath is sharp, but he says nothing. Jack doesn't press further.

-

“Sam, Dean, Cas,” Jack says, “this is Harper.” He had agreed to “introduce her to the family,” if she was going to be hunting.

Harper stands at the end of the map table, like a doll waiting for an inspection.

Dean is sitting at the edge of the table, Sam and Cas on either side. He’d worked for hours on dinner, “ I don’t want to embarrass you in front of your girl, kid,” but all the sweat and exhaustion of that had been wiped away, probably with a shower, and he was looking every inch the congenial host. 

dean winchester "we can't let people know we sit" moment. also again dean is so excited to micromanage jack's heterosexuality

On one side, Sam smiles wanly at Harper. He seems nervous, somehow, his shoulders pulled in. Sam never seems quite comfortable at sit down family dinners, but this is more than that. His nerves seem directed at Harper. 

again. projecting ruby/rowena.

On the other side, Cas beams, even though Jack can see a little sparkle in his eyes.

cas crying a little...... his baby is growing apart from him.......

Harper’s place is set on Sam’s side of the table, and Jack’s on Cas’. 

“Come on, sit down,” Dean pronounces down the table, and everyone unfreezes. Harper seems to wake up from a stupor, and Jack follows her to her place at the table before looping back around to his own spot, behind the three grown ups.

Jack scoops mac ‘n cheese onto his plate as Dean interrogates Harper.

“So what do you do?”

“I’m a librarian.”

Harper meets Dean’s eyes solidly, but without challenge. Jack can’t help but be a little impressed. 

“Is it fun?”

“Yes, I love to read. I’ve always tried to see the world in books until now.”

“Where are you from?”

“Nebraska. You know, pretty small town. Not near anything important.”

“What’s your family like?”

“Oh, they’re nice. My mom taught me everything I know.” Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Sam zero in on her.

“That’s good, I like a girl who can respect her parents.”

YEEEEAAAHHHHH FAMILY BUSINESS.

Dean turns his gaze to Jack. Cas shoots him a little smile.

“So you two met on a case,” he says, “so how’d it happen? A little post-rescue eye magic, eh?”

“Well, actually, we were in a warehouse,” Jack starts, but his shins explode with pain. Harper has kicked him viciously under the table.

remember how dean pinched jack viciously earlier?

“Yeah, you know,” Harper says, “Jack saved me. From a monster.”

The image of Dean bursting into Harper’s apartment in pursuit of her ex-boyfriend comes unbidden to Jack’s mind.

teehee.

“Yeah,” he agrees, “totally.”

-

Jack jumps a little as air puffs out of the couch cushions. He’d had his eyes closed, been curled up, a little catnap while waiting on a text. But now someone is sitting beside him. Dean is sitting beside him. Jack doesn’t open his eyes, but he grips the arm of the couch.

“You know, kid, I’m proud of you,” he says. “Getting out there. Trying out living like regular people. The real world.”

“Yeah,” Jack says, quiet. He can sense Dean’s hand before it touches him, and he doesn’t flinch. Dean’s palm is warm resting on his elbow.

“I never really made it work, myself. I’m not used to the real world. Give me the life any day.”

like 80% of what dean means here is literally just "i, gay dean winchester, just could not hack it with a woman"

Dean chuckles. Jack glances over at him. He’s looking into the distance, somewhere else. Not any place in the bunker.

anyway this scene is about how dean is also like. a guy who was raised in a hole, like jack and harper. he too is from a serial killer cult and has no idea what's normal except what's on tv. it's turtles all the way down.

-

So, how did you get into Pushing Daisies, anyway?

Bzzt. My mom showed it to me. She wanted me to have positive necromancer role models.

That’s sweet. Where is your mom, anyway?

Bzzt. Oh, I killed her. She didn’t want Vance and me to be together.

That makes sense. Sometimes you do have to kill your family.

Bzzt. Exactly!

-

Jack’s got his headphones on to keep Sam and Dean’s voices out. Late every night when I am all alone, I call my baby on the telephone . He’s bored, stuck in his room all night, but it’s better than the alternative. Nothing sounds good to him, not TV, not games, not even YouTube, but he needs something to occupy himself.

During his research, the internet taught him about jerking off. A type of practice for sex, an experiment. He’s kind of curious about trying it.

jack jerking off to distract himself from sam and dean audibly fighting in the other room is an idea so diabolical i almost didn't include it.

He reaches a hand into his pants, and tries to picture Harper.

He tries just the idea of Harper, at first. Then he tries Harper in a swimsuit, like in one of Sam or Dean’s magazines. That’s interesting? But he’s not sure it’s really enjoyable. He might be starting to get an erection, but he doesn’t really know.

Harper spreading her legs like the woman in the vulva diagrams he’d looked at. That’s a little better. Harper lying on his bed spreading her legs. Okay. Harper pressing her vagina to him like she had when they’d kissed, except without clothing. Yeah. It could be hot against him. 

Harper on top of him. Harper trapping him, caging him with her arms, her crotch hot against his. His breathing is coming fast, now. Harper grasping him in her arms from behind, he can see the cloth in her hand, coming for his face. Harper over him in the warehouse. Climbing onto him. Wetness against him as he strains against his bonds.

The sound of a glass shattering against the wall in the kitchen breaks through his headphones. His breath hitches.

Harper straddling him, hot cunt resting against him, pressing the water bottle to his lips. Pouring it in ‘til he chokes. Her warm, delicate hand pressing to his throat.

He makes a mess in his hand. He’ll clean it up later.

no girl likes getting pawed at unless she has some serious daddy issues,

-

Jack is pretty proud of his banana bread. Dean had given him the recipe, apparently they needed to use up some bananas, but he’d made it all himself. No one else had even helped.

RETURN OF THE BANANAAAAAAAA

He sets the plate down and a glass of milk before Harper on the map table, and she smiles up at him.

“Where is everybody?” she asks, mouth full. “This is really good. They should come try some while it’s still warm.”

also i had fun using this scene to establish that harper has gotten comfortable here. "where is everybody" as though she's totally used to tfw.

“They’re in the dungeon,” Jack says. “Sam and Cas are torturing a werewolf.”

dean is not with them because dean has some torturing trauma and doesn't like torturing <3

“Oh, makes sense,” she nods.

“I don’t like torturing,” Jack says. “Dean says I’ll grow into it, though.”

dean voice you have to do some torturing to be a real man

Harper mhms and swallows. She reaches for another slice.

-

Cas and Dean are fighting. Jack can hear them outside his room. He tries to put on his headphones, I got something to say that might cause you pain , but they’re too close. Too loud.

another funny song choice. imo.

“You don’t think I know what you’re planning?”

“What?”

“Cabin for two, up in Nebraska? By the lake? Nice and romantic.”

“That’s not-”

“‘Fishing…’” Jack hears the sound of spitting. “Who is she?”

the way dean is like oh cas is gay earlier but as soon as tensions get high he assumes that cas is gonna leave him for a woman.

“Dean, listen-”

“Do you know what I would do if you left me, Cas? Do you know what it does to me when you just run off like you always do?”

i tried to make sure all of the Behaviors dean and harper exhibited in this fic were also exhibited by the other. so. deanjealousy.

Jack can feel the cold of the room key in his hand. He gets up, padding-quiet across the floor, and turns it. There’s a little clunk and he flinches, not expecting that. But it’s not loud enough to be heard over the crash from the kitchen. It appears the father-son fishing trip won’t happen after all.

dean gave him the key for sex but he's actually using it to symbolically protect himself from his household. also, the walls are closing in: cas can never be his escape route because cas will always cave. his independence has to be through harper.

-

“That’s,” Harper nervous-giggles a little, fingers digging into the rough sheets, “that’s crazy. That werewolves are real. The outside world is so weird.” She’s leaning back on her bed. Sam has given them both the spiel on tomorrow’s job and left them in Harper’s room. 

for harper there's no distinction between the real world and the hunting world, it's all outside of her fantastical world of yockeynatural.

Jack’s own bed is next to Sam’s in their double on the ground floor, but the singles are on the upper floor, so Harper is next to Dean and Cas. Jack can hear them murmuring to each other through the wall, but can’t make out the words.

“Yeah, I guess.” Jack stands near the tiny motel TV, not sure whether to put his hands in his pockets or clasp them behind him, and so doing neither.

“Kind of scary,” she says, eyes closed. She tilts her head back, looks up at the ceiling through closed eyelids. Her neck is long and delicate.

“I’ve never thought about it that way,” he says, “it’s just how things are.”

many things in jack's life are like this.

-

Dean and Cas are sneaking in the front. Sam is crouched in the bushes for back up. 

yes. YES. serial killers destroying the ordinary nuclear family.

Jack gets to go in the back.

The house is mostly brick, at least on the first floor, which is good for a shootout. Less risk of overpenetration. The backyard is pretty manicured, which is less ideal, but at least it isn’t illuminated. Dean said everyone in this household is a werewolf, so at least there’s no risk of civilians.

Jack keeps a hand on his - Sam’s - gun as he steps between tomato plants. He stays off the slate-paved path to the back door. Too much risk of noise.

He can’t hear Harper behind him, but he can feel her fingertips brushing his.

The screen door creaks and he flinches, not expecting that. He hears Harper gasp behind him. But no other sounds are forthcoming. After a moment, he untenses and steps in.

The hallway’s wallpaper is yellow. Slightly scuffed from when some large piece of furniture had knocked against it, perhaps years ago. There are two doors, one on the left, and one at the end. 

lol. yellow wallpaper.

He can hear his own footsteps, just barely, but not Harper’s. He glances back to see her sock-footed. She must’ve slipped out of her shoes at the door.

He nudges the door on the left open, gun raised, but it’s dark. Small. Too small for someone to be hiding. A bathroom. He flicks the light on, just in case, but it’s definitely empty. Nothing but the SpongeBob loofah looking back at him. He nods to Harper.

all the little marks of a perfectly normal household of regular people that they're gonna kill <3

The main light is off in the room at the end of the hallway, but Jack can see a light of some kind, cold and flickery, shining from inside. A screen maybe.

He presses the door and it swings, stopping just short of hitting the wall next to it, and Jack breathes a tiny sigh of relief, but tenses again when he sees inside. The room is dark enough to just be shapes, but there’s a bright square of image in the center, and just in front of it, the clear outline of a head.

Jack freezes.

Bang. Bang bang. 

Three shots in quick succession. From the front of the house.

The figure doesn’t move.

Jack hears Dean’s voice shout “front clear,” but he’s too focused on the figure to really hear it. He inches forward into the room, gun pointed. Safety off.

The werewolf is wearing headphones. That’s why he didn’t hear it. Gunfire is spattered across the screen in cold white flashes, and he’s wearing headphones.

when the kid doesn't hear the fighting. because he's wearing headphones. :3

Jack steps up behind him and pulls the trigger.

YEEEEAHHHH JACK KILL YOUR DOUBLE. unselfawarely

Gunshots are very loud. Most people know this, but it’s hard to express just how unpleasant it is to hear a bullet fired a few feet from your face without ear protection. Jack still hears Harper squeal.

Blood is spurting from the werewolf’s chest in a geyser, and Jack can see his face illuminated in the light of the screen, the boy’s mouth fishlike and gasping as he expires. The light flickers. Computer generated blood splashes across the monitor and it goes dark, displaying the message “You have died.”

Jack turns to look at Harper. She’s covered in blood. It soaks the ruffles of her buttercup-yellow shirt, and drips from her lashes as she stares at him, wide-eyed.

starts in blood, ends in blood. a bloody coming of age. jack getting initiated into the sickness of a hunter's adulthood. he has become what his role models have taught him to be, in every way.

The next moment, she’s flung her arms around him. Face buried in his shoulder. He can feel her shaking, but he feels warm.

-

Sam drives them home in the Impala. Dean and Cas are taking Cas’ truck.

Harper dozes, her head on Jack’s shoulder, gore sticky all down her front.

instead of hiding the blood, jack shows it off like a badge of honor. it's initiated him into adulthood.

-

Jack leans against the map table. He feels a lot better after a shower and a change of clothes, but he’s still wired. Wired enough that he flinches when he hears Dean’s step.

“Whoa, Tony,” Dean says, and Jack feels the hand on his shoulder, firm but gentle. Okay. Jack relaxes a little.

flinchboyyyyyyy. approval seeking missile. both at once.

“You did good today, kid,” Dean says, “get some sleep.” And it’s a warm, fizzing thing. Jack feels it from the tip of his toes up to behind his ears. He did good today.

oh also. i wanted to say. another reason i decided to excise the soul magic plot entirely is that i didn't want people attributing jack's character arc in this fic to soullessness. he Did That all on his own <3

-

Jack’s phone buzzes, and he jolts awake. Good morning <3.

FLINCHBOY! fin

[blindmagdalena]

Was re-watching Diabolical and have been genuinely wondering for a while about this………

Do you think Homelander could have been redeemed within those first 1-4 of his years of his initial roll out? It was obvious that he had no moral compass but he wasn't intentionally malicious back then. He seemed just kind of like a paper cup blowing from here to there as long as the promise of adoration existed.

I can't help but wonder if he had been surrounded by actually decent people rather than Vought psychopaths and manipulators if he still had a chance, even at that age.

a lot of things could have been different for Homelander when he was that young. it's a little fuzzy how old he was in Diabolical 8, but the general consensus seems to be 18-20.

we know he already had a kill count in the lab. he killed several of his teachers/nannies by the time he was 13, maybe more after that. he experienced a deluge of being made to crave the love of humans while also coming to view them as disposable.

as toys, if you will.

vague potential spoilers for s4 and longwinded rambling under the cut.

in my (wholly uneducated) opinion, this is where the foundational fracture of baby John's psyche begins. he had three "core" members of his team who formed a dysfunctional parental unit. Barbara, Vogelbaum and Stan Edgar. i believe that as a child, John had genuine and strong love for both Barbara and Vogelbaum, whereas i think it's always been a fearful respect of Stan Edgar.

then there were the regulars who existed in periphery, but mainly as antagonists. such as Marty and Frank. think of them as like... creepy uncles.

the rest of the scientists and caretakers were nothing but nameless, faceless props. the first time he killed someone, they were swiftly replaced. same with the first, second, third... who knows how many he went through. who knows how many "accidents" Vogelbaum swept under the rug in his pursuit of the Perfect Hero.

that little smile we see at the end of the clip? that's all Homelander.

Homelander fundamentally does not care about people, but has a deep-seated desire for their approval, and does grow strong attachments on an individual level. this is the "split" that exists in him. this is the 16 year old that left the lab.

he was always going to latch onto someone and have little regard for anyone who wasn't them. no matter how well-meaning and kind that person was, Homelander would have been an extremely difficult (and frightening!) child to manage.

you think he's immature and temperamental now? try him from the ages of 16-25. yikes!

he may not have hurt anyone on purpose initially in that rescue gone wrong, but he had absolutely no problem covering his bases once shit went sideways. he was only afraid of retribution from Vought/His Favored People. he wasn't upset that he hurt people. he was upset he might not get away with it.

it would make for a really interesting fic to explore what would have happened if the hero "Homelander" had been scrapped entirely for whatever reason. if he'd been if he had fallen into the hands of someone who actually meant well, who would parent him.

someone who would love enough about him to teach him the fundamentals of caring about other people not just on an individual level, but on a conceptual one. whether or not he still could.

ultimately, Homelander isn't a real person. it's entirely up to the author whether or not he could or could not be "redeemed." he'll always carry the trauma of what was done to him, but at the very least, maybe he could come to understand some degree of empathy or compassion outside of himself.

either way i'd read the hell out of it!

[bigcats-birds-and-books]

Books of 2024: November Wrap-Up.

Hi, y'all! I'm actually shocked that I managed to get through four (4) books this month, because it was NANO and I also WROTE A WHOLE BOOK!! The (written) book in its two notebooks is pictured beneath the pen and NaNo Earrings :)

All of these reads were NaNo-adjacent, somehow (I like to stack my reading with my writing project so all the Vibes are Correct)--either Space, or Haunted, or Fucked Up Fungi (I wrote a weird book this month)(I had a great time).

Photos and/or reviews linked:

A HALF-BUILT GARDEN - ★★★½ I enjoyed this! It was very slow and contemplative, and I was surprised by how long it took me to read (#NaNoProblems), but I'm glad I did, and Rhamnetin was a DELIGHT.

JUST LIKE HOME - ★★★★ Reread for me, holds up very well! Star rating unchanged from first time through. I actually do recommend rereading this one, knowing exactly when Daphne dies.

GRAVEYARD SHIFT - ★★★½ I enjoyed this one too! Short fun weird little insomnia romp. Love a good fucked up fungus and a motley POV crew.

THE NIGHT GUEST - ★★★★ This was DEEPLY fucked up and AMAZINGLY crafted horror/suspense, and I definitely had delayed nightmares about it. I also love a good spec fic in translation (this one's from Icelandic!). Cats are NOT safe, very graphically so, so proceed with caution if that's a warning you need.

Under the Cut: A Note About ~*★Stars★*~

Historically, I have been Very Bad™ about assigning things Star Ratings, because it's so Vibes Heavy for me and therefore Contingent Upon my Whims. (Example: I don't like that stars are Odd, because that makes three the midpoint and things are rarely so truly mid for me)(I have hacked my way around this with a ½). Here is, generally, how I conceptualize stars:

★ - This was Bad. I would actively recommend that you do NOT read this one, no redeeming qualities whatsoever, not worth the slog. Save Yourself, It's Too Late For Me. Book goes in the garbage (donate bin).

★★ - This was Not Good. I would not recommend it, but it wasn't a total waste or wash--something in here held my interest/kept my attention/sparked some joy. I will not be rereading this ever. Save Yourself (Or Join Me In Suffering, That Seems Like A Cool Bonding Activity).

★★★ - This was Good/Fine/Okay/Meh. I don't care about this enough to recommend it one way or another. Perfectly serviceable book, held my interest, I probably enjoyed myself (or at least didn't actively loathe the reading). I don't have especially strong feelings. You probably don't need to save yourself from this one--if it sounds like your jam, give it a shot! Just didn't resonate with me particularly powerfully. I probably won't reread this unless I'm after something in particular.

★★★½ - I liked this! I'll probably recommend it if I know it matches someone's vibes or specific requests, but I didn't commit to a star rating on Goodreads. More likely to reread, but not guaranteed.

★★★★ - I really enjoyed this!! I would recommend it (sometimes with caveats about content warnings or such--I tend to like weird fucked up funny shit, and I don't have many hard readerly NO's). Not a perfect book for me by any means, but Very Good. This is something I would reread! Join me!!

★★★★★ - I LOVED THE SHIT OUT OF THIS, IT REWIRED MY BRAIN, WILL RECOMMEND TO ANYONE AND EVERYONE AT THE SLIGHTEST PROVOCATION (content warning caveats still apply--see 4-star disclaimer). Excellent book, I'll reread it regularly, I'll buy copies for all my friends, I'll try to convince all of Booklr to read it, PLEASE join me!!

[the-bitter-ocean]

10 12 and 15 for isat ask game :3

(FULL GAME SPOILERS + 2HATS/A6SE SPOILERS ) Thank you for asking these questions @aroace-poly-show ! I’m going to answer 10 since 12 and fifteen I’ve already in previous asks! If you’d like to know my answers to those you can find them here (ask 12) and here (ask 15) I have a ton of headcanons for both the setting of the game as a whole and also for individual characters but for now I think I’m gonna focus more on the world building aspect in this ask! I won’t delve into all of them but I’ll grab some that I talked about to my friends:

10- any headcanons about the in-game world? (about the forgotten island, craft types, just like. world building hcs, etc)

For the island I like to think the people living there would collect dandelions, folded paper cranes and looked for shooting stars because all of those are methods of making a wish. I also like the idea of there being festivals and ceremonies where people would make and light up lanterns to put in the sky. I also think that the Island had a close trade relation to places like Vaugarde (Bambouche specifically given how close it is to the island + both areas are coastal and how its cultural aspects seem to have major overlap in some areas as well with the favor trees etc). We don’t know a lot about the island or its culture in game but from what little we see from Siffrin’s memories and optional content in game it is very fascinating. I like to think out of all the countries the island is the more technologically advanced (given the studies on the stars and cultural practices of wishcraft/ time craft that region could have been the main ones studying it, hence the lack of info on either of these things once the island got wiped from everyone’s memories). I love when people in aus and fics and art explore the effects of this post game. Seeing everyone’s interpretations on whether the islands culture slowly gets remembered or more stuff about time craft/wish craft gets discovered or explore the effects of the color red being a permanent thing people can see now due to the events of act 5 is wild to think about.

In general I like seeing the different cultures views/ gods / faiths and belief systems and seeing how that affects the environment and characters who live within it. Odile mentioned having multiple gods aka “Expressions” (polytheistic) and that you build shrines / pray to only the ones you need in that moment, Mirabelle believes in the Change God (monotheistic) and Siffrin believes in the Universe (which to me reminds me more of a way of life/ belief system / conceptual idea of “Fate” itself rather than a conscious thinking autonomous being in the way expressions or the change god is ) All in all having these different elements makes the setting feel more open and interesting/ grounded in reality which u appreciate immensely. In the photos listed down below I said my personal HCS about the country of Mwudu since we don’t really get to hear about it in game aside from passing mentions and flavor text when you click certain objects.

[bedlamsbard]

Could you talk about how you come up with the Asgardian rituals in your MCU fic? I'm thinking particularly about the coronation one, which stands out the most in my memory, but in general, too.

Some of it is cannibalized directly from other sources -- for example, the "there beyond them do I see my father" ritual language in the coronation is based on the Viking prayer in The Thirteenth Warrior (itself based on Michael Crichton's novel Eaters of the Dead, loosely based on Ahmad ibn Fadlan's account of his travels); Thor: Ragnarok also borrows that same one. There's a healthy dose of S.M. Stirling's Emberverse thrown into both Yonderverse and Morning. Some comes from Norse mythology, heavily filtered; I've talked before about how I conceptualize both Norse mythology and historical/literary/archaeological background as functioning within a world where Asgard and the Asgardians (and the rest of the Nine) are real. It's why there are a lot of very deliberate differences between Asgardian cosmology and Norse mythology. I suspect there's also a lot of sci-fi/fantasy influence that's swimming around in the back of my head that I'm not super-consciously aware of. Some of the rituals are also coming directly from canon! Altverse Loki's coronation is a pretty close mirror to Thor's in Thor, though with some added ritual around Gram.

I did a DVD commentary of the coronation a while back. With that one, part of it is establishing that Asgard is an elective monarchy (MY AGENDA), so Loki has to be acknowledged by the Aesir in a lot of different ways, which includes establishing himself. This is a legal rite as well as a religious one, but it's also very much a religious rite. One thing I think about with the rituals is what's going to be possible for an Asgardian that isn't going to be possible for a human -- thus Loki getting his throat cut. (I regret is not making this a visible scar, but that's partially just Yonder being written first.)

Something else I really wanted to do with the rituals is to make it clear that these matter. It's left deliberately vague in the coronation if Loki actually sees into Valhalla or if he's just having drug-induced hallucinations (there's a Yonderverse fic coming up that makes it clear that he did), but they matter -- because Loki believes, because the Asgardians believe; because there are actual real world legal repercussions -- but there are also actual real world magical repercussions, too. They also echo each other -- Loki's and Sif's pre-battle rites echo Loki formally giving Thanos over to death echo Loki's coronation. They matter; but they're also existing within the same universe. (Morning's rituals are flashier: they're for public consumption, not Asgard-only.)

[benjineedssleep]

Are you planning any other Sam/Alex fics?

yes! i rotate this ship in my head as much as i do sambastian XD

i have a smut one-shot that'll write itself once i open the doc but i also have a couple of very bare bones longer fic ideas as well. one is samalex/sambastian -> sam/seb/alex and the other is strictly samalex.

smut one-shot is super fleshed out like i said. gym bro shit. it was actually the original idea i had for them before i committed to it's just admiration, trust. more in alex's pov because that was fun.

second one would probably be a longfic that's on the shorter end of things (for me). 30-50k maybe? that's being generous bc of my writing style but it's really not a lot. conceptually it's sam + seb being friends and sam + alex being friends. alex doesn't really get why sam keeps seb around. thinks he's too odd and that sam can do better than that (i.e. be popular if he stops hanging with seb). some kinda drama occurs that probably involves seb getting left out of things. it's resolved, probably some sam polyamory panic in the midst of it, they become a trio, gay shit ensues. 99% sure this'll be entirely sfw. probably a hs au. could work as a college au but then i'd have to justify alex being there and i'm lazy LMAO--

third one is barely even a fetus of a plot bunny. but it is there, it's brewing. more to come about that later maybe? would probably reside in short story central though, think 10-12k like sunsets.

[lets-try-some-writing]

Hello! May we hear/read more about Revelator, please? 👀

You wish to know about my original work??? Chatter mode has been unlocked with this query.

Revelator is my attempt to make my workaholic brain shut up. I struggle to continue finding purpose in writing fics when I can't capitalize on it. So I decided it would be a good idea to take the basic premise of one of my fics and apply it to my own original work to inspire me to work on something productive and maintain my hobby. That said, Revelator follows the general premise of my most popular fic, The Many Lives of Optimus Prime.

Rant incoming.

In a universe where humanity has fled to the stars after their empire was shattered by an unknowable entity, twenty sentient robotic units are created by a relic that humanity does not understand but still houses. Due to a series of misfortunes on the world they tried to terraform, the last remnants of humanity are wiped out, leaving the entire world to the Twenty and the relic that made them.

The main character of this tale is the only one out of the Twenty who foresaw the coming deaths of their human masters and was promptly ignored. After humanity fell, he tried to guide the rest of the Twenty into creating a civilization in light of more of their kind being forged by the relic. His vocal nature led to his destruction at the hands of one of his fellows. However, against the odds, he found himself returned to full functionality in a new frame and with newfound purpose.

The relic that made him and the rest is more than it seems. It has sensed the threat that doomed humanity and it has no interest in watching its creations fall as well. And so it has chosen a champion, one whose sole mission is to endure the test of time, learn, grow, and ultimately gain enough power to shape this fledgling race so that they might stand a chance against the doom that is coming.

My original work follows my main character throughout his various lives and throughout the various eras of his world. He will watch, he will learn, and when he has lived long enough to have gained wisdom, everything will come together with him taking power. In many regards, his tale will mirror my fic. However, I am taking care to create an original world with a unique race to inhabit it. I hope to make each life its own story so that there is always something new to see and explore. In a way, its my worldbuilding project. I also want every excuse to not write humans. I need to keep to my niche or I will lose interest immediately. Thanks TF.

Thus far I have twenty three pages written, nine chapters fully planned, and the second arc mostly conceptualized. Here is a snippet from chapter one.

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━

“You were not made to serve us, child of the Mind. Your creator made you for a reason that far exceeds anything myself or the commanders of this vessel could ever envision.” There was something sad in the priest’s tone as the lift came to a stop. Nineteen found himself conflicted as he watched his master step forward and onto the platform that ran around the exterior of the Great Mind.

“That conclusion has no logical basis.” He managed to murmur as he followed the priest. There was always something strange about being so close to the thing that made him. The thrum of its crimson core always had Nineteen’s personal fusion core pulsing in sync with the greater machine. 

“Child of the Mind, you have so little faith. Look upon yourself and your siblings, then see the rest of those made by the Mind. You are unique, each and every one of you.” The priest paused and gestured to Nineteen, prompting him to stop in his tracks. The surface of the Great Mind shifted in time with the priest’s words. Nineteen would almost claim it to be in response to his master’s commentary if he were a believer in any capacity. 

“We have purpose, and we shall serve.” Nineteen stated simply. There was little thought in his response. Whatever the priest was getting at was beyond his design. He and the twenty were made to serve. That was all. The loyalty coding, their sentience, and all the rest meant very little in the grand scheme of things. Nineteen would still be disposed of if he proved a burden, regardless of the potential mysticism around him and his kin. 

“You shall serve. But it shall not be those of flesh that you give your loyalty to.” The priest smiled, and it was only then that Nineteen noted the cables running from underneath his master’s robe. They were part of the augments priests of the mechanicus received, and at some point during their short walk, those cables had connected to the Great Mind.

There was no railing separating them from the relic, and as such, there was nothing to theoretically stop the priest from connecting to the Great Mind. Even still, Nineteen found himself unsettled. When had the connection occurred? Why did his master’s eyes hold a strange gleam to them?

“I do not understand.” He stood stiffly, his gaze flicking between the relic and his master. The thoughts of machines did not often translate cleanly for organics. Perhaps the priest was confused and interpreting the logical processing of the relic incorrectly. The twenty were made for the express reason of serving those aboard the Eden. They had been told as such from the moment of their forging and it had thus far proven true. There was no reason to believe the murmured prophecy of the elderly human before him.

Despite that, there was a degree of unease that wormed its way into his mind as he watched the priest grin in an almost understanding way. 

“You don’t need to. I have a feeling it will make more sense to you as you age.” A red glow entered the priest’s eyes. It was hardly present, but to Nineteen who possessed far superior vision than any unaugmented human, it was almost impossible to ignore.

“Come here and pass me that cloth if you would be so kind.” Then, just like that, the moment ended and the priest disconnected from the relic. His cables slipped back beneath his robes into whatever holster they originated from and he approached the only work table on the platform. Nineteen quickly reset his optics and filed away the data for later review. It wasn’t important right now.