#it's also in a part of town where all the homos hang and i had so many older gay men being so nice to me

[cuntwrap--supreme]

I started working at a really high end restaurant today doing a role I'm not qualified for (never waited tables before). They had me training with the cutest girl there. And she's telling me about how much she loves theater and cats and rainy days and I'm just like... so you're 🏳️‍🌈 or naw? Because I'm clearly the most openly faggy person here, so it's obvious what I am.

[girlgrouptrash101]

Yena (IZ*ONE) as Your Girlfriend

Request: “can i request iz*one's yena as your girlfriend please 👉🏻👈🏻 thank you 🥺”

A/N: took a lil break from studying to write for a bit, ( i hope this all makes sense, i’m really freaking sleepy rn yall T-T )

- C

Choi Yena - is she an idol or a stand up comedian? i guess we’ll truly never know

her bubbly personality and quick-witted jokes were actually the main reason you wanted to get so close to her in the first place, absolutely in awe of how she could bring a smile anyone’s face in mere seconds

which is why, after a few days of pep talks from your friends, you built up the courage to ask miss Yena on a date, to which she absolutely accepted

Yena was over the moon when you asked her, and the shocked look on her face told you just that as she hadn’t expected you to reciprocate her feelings - but her composure dropped for a mere nanosecond before she was back to her cheeky self, her arm already wrapping around your shoulder as she couldn’t wait to go on a date with you :]

one date quickly turned into much more, and you both felt the time flying by as you fell further and further for one another, leading to Yena asking you to make it official just a couple weeks later!

Everyone around you immediately gets soulmate vibes as soon as they see you two together, your chemistry is truly unmatchable

as wild and unhinged as Yena is, she always finds a sense of calm around you that she doesn’t with anyone else, and it’s always so cute to see her her usual cool girl facade bubble away when she’s with you 

she has such a soft spot for you that no one else could ever get, and you love it so much when her chivalrous side comes out - plus the way she looks at you with so much makes you feel like the only person on the entire planet

Lowkey very cheesy, as in hand in your back pocket, don’t touch my baby type cheesy

(which you are an absolute sucker for, by the way)

every sentence ends with baby, no matter the context or who you’re with, she just loves calling you that SOO so much hehe

your guys’ relationship is truly like something out of like a 90′s teen movie, and no matter what Yena does, she always looks so damn cool that you can’t help but get an overwhelming amount of butterflies in your tummy

imagine Yena dropping you a text at the early hours of the morning telling you to come outside - you look out and see her on her motorbike, clad in her leather jacket and black jeans, lollipop lazily hanging from her lips as she waits for you to come outside GOD

and then she’ll take you to a little beach on the edge of town, the two of you snuggled up on the sand, only the sound of the waves to be heard as you shiver a little, even though you’re wrapped up in Yena’s leather jacket, and buried into her side :’)

Cuddles usually start with you laying in bed and Yena throwing herself on top of you, making you go “OOF” and making her giggle like an idiot

but once she gets comfortable, you best believe you guys aren’t moving for HOURS

and if you aren’t wearing an item of her clothing at ALL times its a national emergency and Yena must rectify that immediately

shows her love in many different peculiar ways, from squishing her cheeks against yours, poking her finger in your nostril, randomly nipping your earlobe or blowing raspberries against your skin while she lays her head on your stomach

funky little yena doing funky little dances in public whenever something makes her happy

which you have soon become a part of, leading to the two of you popping and locking in your local convenience store when the ice cream is on sale

However, while she presents herself as a strong, carefree person, none of us are free from worries, even Yena

when her thoughts get too loud, she’s feeling down, or even if she just had a bad day, you’re always there waiting for her with open arms and willing to listen to any of her worries; which she truly appreciates more than you could ever know.

Yena’s truly her authentic self when she’s with you - there’s no front, no shyness, she’s just pure Yena around you, and it’s so comforting to know she feels that comfortable around you to be that way.

(back to the fun stuff, sorry hjdfsjsd)

if you don’t already know how to skateboard, well you’ve basically got your very own tony hawk here to teach you how to become a pro skater

or if you suck she’ll just make you sit on her board and pull you along by the hand, both of you giggling like kids as she speeds up down the street

Her ideal date is somewhere where you two can have fun together, like the arcade, fair, going on trips (although no matter where you go, Yena always makes it fun :] )

you also both love the drive in theater near your house, and you guys go so often that you’ve basically created cuddle paradise in the back of Yena’s car, bundling up in the back, wrapped up in each others arms with the seats pushed down, wanting the night to go on forever <3

has probably said ‘no homo’ after a makeout session before

but to be honest, no matter what she says or does makes your heart flutter and fill with joy, because she truly is the m0st loving and happy spirit you’ve been honoured to have in your life, and you would never, ever change a single thing about her :)))))))))))

NSFW From Here:

yena cockiest little shit wbk

whenever she’s fucking you and you’re in any way trying to suppress your moans, she is NOT having it, simply opting to fuck you harder until you scream her name in that desperate tone that she loves so much

her favourite thing ever is memorizing the spots that make you moan a little louder, abusing your weaknesses over and over again until you’re a whimpering mess beneath her

HAS to mark you all over or else she’s not happy - leading to hickeys on the inside of your thighs, on your abdomen, your neck, collarbones, anywhere she can get access to she will always claim as hers

plus the satisfaction of seeing your spent body the morning after, the purple marks on your skin a sign of how good she made you feel makes her SO cocky n possessive and like. you’re HERS and no one is going to change that okay?

has fucked you in the back of her car after, or even during, your dates to the drive in theater,,, cuz girlie doesn’t really give a fuck, in her world its just you two and only you two

whenever you’re watching the movie, it usually ends up with you being engrossed in each scene, leaning into Yena’s side comfortably, thinking she’s paying as much attention as you - that is until you feel her hand creep towards the inside of your thigh, and that’s when you know you’re about 5 minutes away from screaming Yena’s name at the top of your lungs <3

when she invites you over to the practice room under the guise that she wants to teach you izone’s new choreo but then somehow you ended up on a chair in the middle room while Yena’s giving you a lap dance>>>>

when you’re in between her legs making you feel good and she’s looking down at you, her eyes hooded and her lip tucked between her teeth telling you how you’re doing such a good job....... FUCK

the kind of girl to whisper the filthiest words she can possibly think of in your ear then pull away and make a cheesy joke that leaves you mind absolutely REELING because like. her duality what the fuck

yena in nothing but a signature black choker with you riding her thigh in one of her oversized t-shirts, falling to pieces as she holds you close, relishing in the feeling of your dripping core against her skin,,,

also THAT mf that’ll tease you under the tables even when you’re with a group of people,, her annoying ass will just be relishing in the way your jaw clenches as you try so hard to not squirm as she teases you with her fingers

and those random times where you′re just like, at work or out shopping or vibing with your friends and then all of a sudden you get a video notification from Yena,,, and its a video of her in front of the mirror on your room, her legs spread and her fingers deep in her own heat, her breathes uneven as she does her best to keep her phone steady as she moans out your name

she LOVES doing that shit, knowing you’re turned on as fuck thanks to her just,, makes her feel so powerful

on those nights after Yena’s been away with schedules for a  while and you finally get to see her, everything is always so intimate between, with longing kisses and lingering touches that truly are filled with not only lust but love too, pulling one another impossibly closer until all your senses are clouded with another.

[sardinesandhumbugs]

i would be very interested in learning more about horwood (derogatory) if you're interested in explaining?

okay so

so William Horwood was is (apparently he’s still alive and kicking in his 70s) a writer who wrote perhaps the best-known sequel to The Wind in the Willows in 1993: The Willows in Winter. (He wrote three more following after it: Toad Triumphant, The Willows and Beyond, and The Willows at Christmas, but the first one is the one most will be familiar with due to the 1996 movie.)

(He wasn’t the first person to write a sequel to WitW; that honour goes to Dixon Scott in 1983 with A Fresh Wind in the Willows although that had some funky copyright issues) 

The Willows in Winter does its best to mimic the style of the original book, and to some extent it does succeed. It is, however, still essentially published fanfiction and, as such, it has some wonderful ‘misses’ that I will mock this 27-yo story for. (I admittedly kinda love the movie it was adapted into, so this is all done with the same kind of ribbing my friends lovingly bestow upon me after I walk into glass walls or eat notably dodgy apples like some modern-day snow white)

These misses include but are not limited to:

awkward character decisions 

These Characters Are Aggressively Not Gay 

But Sometimes It Will Read Very Gay Anyway 

hilarious character names

I Will (Almost) Kill Mole Multiple Times

Sometimes Twice In The Same Book

you will read “The Water Rat” more than you ever did in witw

Rat has river-speaking abilities now  

Badger has one (1) response to “someone has vanished” and it’s to organise a funeral

Rat sees heaven for, like, a moment

Toad nearly gets hanged 

Anyway, because I have A Lot of thoughts about the book, here’s a spoiler-inclusive breakdown of the plot for your enjoyment below the cut: 

The story starts with Mole’s nephew who we will call “Nephew” for the sole fact that Horwood never deigns to give him any other name. (I have been reliably informed that the next story has Badger’s grandson creatively named... Grandson, just in case anyone thought this might be a one-off.)  

It has been... an indistinguishable number of years since the original book, and Horwood decided the natural character development for the polite and loyal Mole is for him to have become a grumpy old soul who has been passing his recently orphaned Nephew around his friends because he doesn’t like company. 

The biggest issue Mole has is that he erroneously told Nephew that he could stay “as long as [he] wants” and, well, you have to see this for yourself: 

...for ‘as long as you want’ soon feels like a life sentence to a bachelor like Mole, unused to sharing his home with another for more than an evening at a time. 

(Mole is a Bachelor, okay? He’s definitely not accustomed to living whole seasons with Ratty, to the point that he nearly forgets what his own home looks like.)

So Mole is beginning to think that perhaps Nephew isn’t The Worst Thing Ever when Portly turns up in the middle of a horrible snow storm and, in attempting to warm him up, Nephew gives him too much alcohol and promptly sends Portly off to sleep, but not before he imparts that he came running all this way because Rat said that he needed Mole. 

So Mole heads out into the terrible snow storm, gets to the River, and carves his will into a tree because this is Horwood’s fanfic and he can write angst if he wants to, dammit! And, naturally, everything goes wrong. a la Don’t Carry It All style.

You may be saying, oh plot! This sounds dramatic! I regret to inform you that Rat was not, in fact, in danger, but was actually just snowed in with Otter and drunkenly remarked that it’d be so much jollier if Mole joined them (no homo), and then carried getting so drunk that neither of them realised that Portly was gone until three days later. 

[A helpful comic illustrating Otter’s parental abilities]

(This is, of course, the same Portly for whom Otter spent days trying to find in The Piper At the Gates of Dawn chapter of the original book. Turns out his  parental approach has drastically changed since then.)  

After some searching, they find Mole’s will carved into the tree and deduce that Mole attempted to cross the frozen river and failed and they decide to leave off searching until it’s light again. In the meantime, we get this lovely passage that I actually adore for how tender it is: 

The Water Rat knew a night of shadows and half-dreams, memories of Mole in the hot afternoon sun of summer, reflecting upon life. Such remembrances tormented the poor Rat till dawn came once more and he stared bleakly out of the window, tears trickling down his face, listening to the quiet bustle of the other three round the corner in the kitchen. 

During all of this, Toad has discovered a love of flying machines (biplanes, to you and me) and the Riverbankers claim use of his newest one to search for Mole. Long story short, Toad tricks his way into being the pilot, flies so badly that he unseats Rat (who manages to deploy his parachute in time, but has a near-death experience beforehand) and then crashes the plane into a greenhouse in town. 

The other Riverbankers find Rat, who has survived his fall (even if he has seen Beyond the Veil) and he’s currently Talking to the River (Horwood decided to take the “water” part of Rat’s name as a personality trait) and Rat assures the Riverbankers that Mole isn’t dead because the River Said So.

Badger is like, cool, cool, okay he’s suffered a mental break from losing Mole, and possibly Toad too, so we’re going to do the sensible thing and host a funeral for Mole. (Have I mentioned how much they are definitely straight?) 

Anyway, in a move that would make any soap opera green with envy, Mole manages to find his way back to the Riverbank just in time to crash his own funeral, scaring everyone witless until they realise their mistake. (I did say this was published fanfiction.) Everyone is happy, Mole is not dead, and life goes merrily on. 

Meanwhile, Toad has had a few misadventures, that include: 

crashing into a greenhouse that belongs to the judge who sentenced him in the original book

somehow no one realises he’s Toad, so he stays in bed as the heroic pilot who risked life and limb to stop his plane from crashing into the town

escaping disguised as a chimney sweep

turning up to a wedding that the judge was attending and getting arrested

being accused of murdering the missing chimney sweep 

being sentenced to be hanged for murdering the missing chimney sweep

being acquitted from the crime when it turns out the chimney sweep is still alive

(Yes, Horwood really went, hey I should raise the stakes from the original, and then put Toad on trial for murder under threat of hanging.) 

(If what I’ve heard about the later books, Horwood decided that what the Extended WitW Universe was missing was an overarching antagonist, which he rectifies by having the judge return several times.)

Toad is set on his way and he slowly returns back to the Riverbank, mostly because he’s under the impression that not only is Mole dead, but that he probably killed Rat too (this is a Fun Kid’s Book) whereupon he eventually discovers that, uncared for, Toad Hall has fallen into flooded ruin. He mopes and drinks and lights candles before toddling off to Badger’s home, where Badger is having a thoroughly miserable party that has pretty much turned into a Mourning Toad party and they all celebrate Toad’s return. There’s even a sweet moment:

Toad, very drunk and sad: What am I, Badger? Badger: You are home, Toad.

And then in the last two minutes of the book, Toad Hall burns to the ground because Horwood couldn’t resist a last-minute sprinkling of drama into the story.

(Also, also, the last few lines of the book seems to imply that the name of “The Mole” is something that’s inherited like the title of Caesar was, and Nephew will one day be The Mole and I can’t get over that.)

The End. 

Anyway, Horwood is evidence that fanfic writers have always gone, “I can add angst to this,” and that you really shouldn’t feel so bad about that edgy OOC fanfic you wrote when you were 13 because it turns out some people go and get theirs published.

And that’s why some of us have “Horwood (Derogatory)” as a meme. 

[altaruwusmolboiz]

TW: ABLEISM IN THE SCRIPT.

Lines in 13 that make me believe Brett Sampson isn’t straight.

When I thought about 13 the musical from a queer standpoint, I originally didn’t think of Brett. I’d agree that Brett was queer in some way, but I felt like the character that was really queer was Lucy, especially towards her feelings towards Kendra. However, I am now fully convinced that Brett particularly is suffering from compulsive heterosexuality. Here are some lines that make me think that.

Let’s start with how, instead of actually stating his love for Kendra, he makes Malcom and Eddie do it. This already makes me believe he doesn’t have genuine feelings for Kendra, and just thinks he likes her because he feels he’s supposed to. Otherwise, he’d be considered uncool.

Okay, look, I would give the writers the benefit of the doubt and say he’s trying to be friendly if he didn’t just meet him. But he did. And you do not just give someone a positive nickname out of nowhere the second you meet them. If Brett was straight and just wanted a friendship with Evan, he would have just said he was really smart and cool. Think of it this way: There is a new kid at school/work/camp/etc. You don’t know who this person is, and you don’t even know if you should trust them. Regardless of how cool they are, you would not give them a nickname the first time you met them, especially not a positive one. It doesn’t make sense.

SIDE NOTE: Like what I said earlier, why would Brett try to get his friends to ask Kendra out if he truly liked her? I get asking for help like a promposal, but that isn’t what he did. He basically had his friends ask her out for him. Let’s move on.

This one I didn’t think about until making this post, but Brett doesn’t seem to care that Lucy is telling Kendra can’t go. Neither do Malcom and Eddie, I feel, represent Brett’s inner thoughts, that he doesn’t really care if Kendra says no (That obviously was not the intention, but that’s what I got from the scene). He does not intervene, despite not really being fond of Lucy, as we’ve shown in previous scenes.

This one is slightly pushing it, and I know I mentioned how Brett calls Evan “The Brain” earlier, but I’d like to think of this scene as “Hey, that’s the most handsome person I have ever met and I only met him yesterday! Look at him go! No homo though.” Keep in mind, Brett had no idea about the Bar Mitzvah yet.

Here’s an example of him after getting invited the party, proving my last point.

Okay, hear me out on this one. Brett actually has an insult for Patrice. Geek. Not the greatest one, but still one. But he just says Archie is “not cool”. Not, at least in this scene, does he make fun of him for anything else about him, not even his very obvious crush on Kendra. While Brett undoubtably has a crush on Evan, I think he is probably attracted to Archie in some way, hence why he’s not great at bullying him. I’ll get to that more in a second.

The kids here seem really excited for Brett to kiss Kendra. It’s almost like he’s pressured to do it, and doesn’t actually want it. He does not want kiss Kendra, but feels like he has to if he’s going to keep their friendship.

Hmm, I wonder what this reminds me of. Oh, that’s right...

(I mean Dean’s parts. I hope that’s clear.)

(Also fun fact: I’m listening to ETAJ as I write this)

TW: FOR VIOLENCE IN THE NEXT PICTURE. PLEASE BE WARNED.

Why would Brett want it to be private? He invited the others there for a reason. My guess is not to show that he doesn’t actually like it, so he can remain popular while still saying he did the tongue with Kendra. Maybe he doesn’t want to do the tongue at all and just to pretend he does. Either way, he doesn’t want it, he’s just saying he does.

So I reached the picture limit so here’s basically the exact quotes of what he is saying.

NOTE: This song also includes violence but I deleted it in these lyrics.

And i’m sitting here

And i should be doing something

And she’s sitting there

And i don’t know why i’m waiting

But oh, any minute

I’ll be getting closer

And i’ll be where i want to be

Any minute

Let’s be real. He does not want this. He has shown that he’s not into this. I think you get that he does not want to tongue Kendra.

Kendra:

And he’s sitting there

And maybe he doesn’t want me

Even Kendra doesn’t think he actually wants her. I don’t think she’s necessarily suspecting Brett is gay, but I do think she knows she’s just being used. I’m not the hugest fan of Kendra, but she is used to being used only for her looks, and that being the only thing people care about when it comes to her.

Brett: [For context, this is when Archie comes in] Hey!

That’s all he says. He has no other response to Archie interrupting him to sit right next to his girlfriend. I think he knows Archie is better for Kendra, and he doesn’t care what Archie does.

Then we have the kiss.

Link:

https://youtu.be/uMwPknXHMNc

For context, this is the entire song. And I think Brett’s initial reaction is shock, but not because it happened. Because he liked it.

This is where his realization really comes in. That’s why he starts going bigger with the insults. Because he’s embarrassed he liked it.

This is NOT EXCUSING HIS ABLEIST WORDS AGAINST ARCHIE. It is not okay and I want to make that very clear, before I move on.

Then, he goes out with Lucy almost immediately after that. Possibly as a retaliation. Possibly to show his friends that he does, in fact, like girls, seeing as they were making fun of him for kissing Archie accidentally.

Brett: I thought I’d just hang with my boys...

Lucy: No. Here’s what we’re going to do this weekend: Go to the mall, buy new shoes, get a mani-pedi...

Brett: Yeah. I think I’ll hang with my boys.

I will not hesitate to admit that a huge chunk of why he isn’t willing to hang out with Lucy is that she is manipulative. I love Lucy but that is true and should be acknowledged. However, I do think a part of the reason why he seems so distant and reluctant is because, like I said, he doesn’t actually like her (Like I mentioned earlier, I don’t think Lucy likes him either. It’s compulsive heterosexuality on both sides.). And, that is even canon. He does not like her. He’s using her the same way he’s using Kendra: Making himself look straight because they are hot. They’re who he is supposed to date.

Brett: Oh, she’s going to destroy me. But she’s hot. But I hate her. But she’s hot.

This tells us everything we need to know. Brett only likes Lucy because she is hot, he only likes Kendra because she is hot. My work is cut out for me.

Evan:

Tell her you’ve thought about what happened

Tell her you haven’t slept at night

Tell her although you made a huge mistake

You want to make it right

Brett: Okay, but this is starting to sound a little gay.

Yep. There it is. I have three different theories on this.

He’s using “gay” as an insult because he thinks it’s a bad thing, like his friends make it out to be.

He’s trying to get over his internalized homophobia by trying to see it as a compliment. He does use the advice, after all.

He has a crush on Evan Goldman himself, and wants to make it sound like he’s also gay, that he may have a chance with him.

But, regardless, this confirms that he views “gay” as some type of negative thing, even if he himself is straight. This town seems pretty homophobic, considering it is Catholic and he got made fun of for kissing Archie in the first place. He was raised here, and must’ve been told all his life he’s going to grow up to have a wife.

Patrice:

Tell her she shouldn’t have ignored you

Or dissed you in front of all the school

Tell her the minute she got out of touch

You felt like such a fool

Tell her that studying together

Was so nice, you prayed it wouldn’t end

Say you forgive her, say you were jealous

Ask if she’ll be your friend

Do I think Patrice is catching onto how Brett isn’t straight? Absolutely. That may be why she said friend instead of girlfriend. And, why would Brett be jealous in a situation like this? Unless he was jealous of Kendra because of Archie, or her because of Evan.

And, then, the fight scene.

I’m not saying Brett wasn’t mad at Kendra, because he definitely was. But, he seemed more mad at Evan. Because he wanted a reason to be. Any reason not to crush on him.

When Evan told him he sucked, Brett responded by punching. I don’t think he would have if it was Malcom or Eddie. Because he could, and did, convince everyone to abandon Evan, and he could do the same for Malcom and Eddie. What got to Brett was that it was Evan.

Also, when Evan told him he would be lucky to have Patrice and Archie, Brett knows it’s true. He thinks he doesn’t deserve them as friends, or even deserves everyone as friends. He thinks he should be miserable for the rest of his life.

Or, he could just be a homophobic, shallow bully, but we’ll never know.

[dansedan]

I threatened on the Disco Writer’s Nook server to share my notes from this latest fic, but since they’re wildly incomprehensible and kind of silly I thought maybe I’ll just... chuck ‘em on here instead, under a readmore where they can pass by easier so uhhh xX WeLcOmE To My TwIsTeD mInDXx !!!1!!

(warning for LONG LONG post- I write full sections and asides from the universe that aren’t even in the damn fic within the same notes document a lot... I’m also insufferably pretentious on notes I KNOW and I cull it on the final as much as I can, as well as mild possible spoilers for a fic I haven’t written in the same au-timeline-thing I suppose and NSFT stuff)

(also a lot of this gets discarded because it’s so stupid and I write it at terrible brain moments)

"Por la mañana me di a la estúpida tarea de esconder mis cigarros por los rincones de la casa. Los encuentro, claro, pero fumo poco, fumo menos, hago esfuerzos por mejorarme de una vez."

meditative cigarettes and quitting fic.

Harry smokes less than he drinks, because he smokes to keep sharp and he usually wants to be numb, down to zero, space-based. but after going tee-total and opening up on his quest to actual-human-persondom he finds himself chainsmoking constantly. A concern in his volition is raised, a thought project ruminated on, and strategems laid out.

Harry grasps at the first half at a low point in his attempts to get better without anyone knowing or helping. He wonders about Kim's life, Kim's control. The electrochemistry in him fantasizes about a free-wheeling party-boy sort of Kim, still cool, still quiet, but free and soft and in control of his lack of control- the aviator, the flying ace, at the mercy of the elements and gliding by by choice- lands on the question of the one-per day, the Kim he knows, who takes what he needs with trepidation and preparation.

The truth is that last one- Kim was a social smoker, an after-dinner-if-the-date-is-pleasant smoker, an after-sex smoker, a bumming-cigarettes-to-gague-his-interest smoker (it all started with a boyfriend) but police work and his neverending stint in Juvie drove him to once-per-day, a creature of obsession. He used to heavily resent it- until Harry came along and joined the ritual.

"bebiendo mate con el ademán gracioso de los novatos. Es lo que hago ahora cuando siento ganas de fumar, dijo, con una sonrisa."

Kim and Harry not so close together- the idea of Kim and Harry not knowing everything about each other, because that's just not how you survive, but somehow Kim aching to be up-to-date on Harry all the time.

Harry and his funny little excursions around town. Kim visits and finds cigarettes hidden around the house, smells them in fear of finding drugs, or Harry has to awkwardly shuffle around for one when Kim invites him to smoke. Harry tries to join a book club, starts cooking lofty meals for his yoga class, tries being vegan for a week, checks out a bunch of books on the history of the Coupris Corp (SUZERAINTY ERA MARK OF AUTHENTICITY BABEY) as a way to help him wean off substances but also off Kim. They want each other but they know they need to stand on their own </3

Harry starts going to this novelty/gourmet supermarket and buying one new thing every paycheck like furikake that says it has lead on it and mate and all that. He spends his ex-drinking, smoking money on it.

Harry makes Kim huevos rotos :'-)

You're barely holding it together- how the hell did you get to this newsstand? Is it a newsstand? This structure- round, metal, iron-wrought frame and squat stature- was once a newsstand. How do you know it isn't? What is it now? You feel yourself point someplace on a menu you can't see past the dew of heavy crying- the clerk does not react, he's seen you like this- slam your wallet on the counter. You receive a paper parcel slightly larger than your fist, long. It's warm through the paper, and you can feel the dryness of a light dusting of flour passing through it. Food.

Your legs and arms are moving on their own again, wallet shoved this way, steps stumbled past the other, clumsily bringing whatever it is to your mouth and feeling crumbs fall into your beard- like a shark. That's one of the first things you remember, the beautiful old ultraliberal woman, like a shark, on her boat. The joy of your first- no, second- idiom. The first was up on Marvel Hill where you can't live. Kim said that. Kim's gonna be there, when you do it like a shark and don't stop any of this on your way to work and you stop crying so nobody thinks you did what you're avoiding doing. Is there anyway you can forget the frittte? There's so many locations in your mind, what kind of man are you, remembering the placement of a store that's meant to vanish and appear out of convenience like it's a fucking pitstop (would a flask not be enough? A single habit to get rid of, easy- but you're never easy).

You feel dark-dark-light-darkness and then light again, and smoother flooring and your coat being too warm. You're at the precinct- fuck, you're at the precinct- and it's late, real late, but you are here and there's too many people to fuck up here and at least you aren't crying. Your red face and eyes blend perfectly into too many years and days of red and puffy eyes to call attention. Perfect, perfect- god bless the innocence (or is innocence god? You can't forget- Remember- something.)

"You're late, shitkid." At some point Jean appears beside you. He's walked the other way and stopped- he's grimacing- but more importantly you see his left arm raise and still and clench itself, like a restricted movement, natural instinct. "You smell like shit- is that fish?" You do not know if that is fish because your throat hurts so bad already that you cannot know if you've been swallowing bones for this past hour (minute? Minutes? The walk feels like forever and never enough. You're swearing like a pig now that you're standing, how adequate.) 

You want to say it's agony, the end of days, the end of you- you want to say reprise, and sorry, and oh god I didn't want to see you please I don't deserve it Jean please leave and go away from me and also please oh god please hold me up I don't know what I'm doing but I'm trying to be better but I ate this thing that might as well be sawdust and I do not know what time it's been for several days.

Instead you say "it's my GOD-GIVEN RIGHT, VIC" and you move along like a fucking idiot.

"An image arises in your mind's eye-- a baby, dirty, hideous, its skin mottled and raw and red, peeling, stretching almost impossibly. The baby cries from pain- in it's brief stay on this earth it has already suffered more than some men do in their entire lives. He is built for it- thick skin, quite literally. He is being held by a slight, pale, ugly nurse- a nun in bloodied white rags with a terrible smell of herbs permanently attached to her. The scene is a caricature of mother and child- the hideous thing, held up to her chest, is drinking from an amber bottle, clouded over. In ten years, the contents of this bottle he will be legally too young for-- is this the reason you became the way you are? Are you just born-and-bred this way, surviving off of alcohol where most people had blood and human kindness?

-- It's not. The little pastiche you've thought up for yourself is half propaganda and half racist idiocy. Despite what the supposed "race-realists" may say, not everyone from the Insulindian is thrown on the bottle the moment they're weaned from the tit. In truth, you were barely even medicated, and those bitter, herbaceous spirits are not the cause of your current addiction. It's still on you harry, it's always still on you.

"Wake up- time to listen to the radio.

You love the radio. You really, really love the radio. You think the radio was the greatest purchase you have ever made- drunk you was horrible, and traumatizing, and entirely undebatably subhuman, but he did buy this radio, and by god fuck if that isn't his saving grace (a story comes to mind- a Dolorean allegory from your childhood- about a selfish rich woman and a lazy cheating bum both ferried up to heaven by a single onion that she'd given him during their lives as charity. You choose to ignore the part where they fight and fall back into hellfire). It's the thing that broke you off from your mazovian monk-like refusal to buy anything for yourself other than flour for a week after THE HANGED MAN, it's what got you into cycling and hanging out with the neon eyebleed catsuits crew, it's what reminded you that public libraries exist and nobody will ask you why you're in there reading about suzerainty-era motor carriage manufacturing and the homo-sexual underground. It's the greatest thing since communism, since disco, since-- since-- since cigarettes and kebabs and- and--

... And idolizing someone to the point of crucifixion. Which you aren't supposed to be doing.

Good thing the radio cranks up real loud! 

"You've read everything in this section- theory, history, photography, even, notably, the single romance novel, comically bad, about a middle-aged Vespertine businessman travelling north to the harbour where he had experienced his first teenaged love-- and the young, strapping man he gets to know there. (There are boats involved- it's very biblical). All in all, you read it twice,  meticulously rewrote its horrifyingly vague and unsafe sex scenes (in pen, inside. Not like the librarian's gonna check it) and masturbated at your efforts, winning you a very sore wrist and about 30 minutes of crying because you remembered being in a bookshop with Kim in Martinaise while you were remembering what books were, and then remembered Jean's apartment having a secret stack of equally terrible heterosexual novels bequeathed to him by an ex that you made fun of him for (rabidly, for years).

"Harry's apartment is no longer clean, but not as dirty as before, and its stalwart light-green walls seem, in the summer light, less queasy and foreboding than what they are now, almost dainty in the contrast of the sparse few frames and piles of knickknacks on the floor. 

Believe it or not, this is good-- sometimes, life with Harry makes you feel like a zoologist, intricately analysing an animal's pile of leaves and refuse and knowing, despite all human standards, what these habits mean for the foreign species. And for Harry, mess like this is good. It means he's kept busy by any one of his million little projects,  picked up and put down at a dizzying speed and constancy, each one increasingly out of left field in

Kim and harry talk about the radio, kim thinks about it "radio, what's new? Radio- some-one still loves you"

Harry talking abt agenda + library bc you can't smoke + planning for dinner with Kim :-)

Gotta go to the library so you don't chainsmoke

Gotta shower to go to the library 

Don't wanna shower bc executive dysfunction

Grab a smoke before you shower 

Oh wait you've been chain-smoking fuck (insert meditation on sharp vs smooth)

Hide all your cigarettes around the house feeling pathetic about it

You still don't feel like showering

But you just chainsmoked and you know you'll do it again because you JUST hid your smokes and the hiding spots are fresh in your mind

Birdbath (why are you so fucking dysfunctional that you can't shower like a normal adult) 

Introspective rubber ducky selfhate momence

Rubber ducky encourages you through the power of nihilism and Kim

Thought project gain

Go to library and need comfort so you're going thru all your usual shelves (insert le funny homo shelf joke here) 

What does he read about? Smoking? Idk

Kiiiiiim. Kimmy kim kim. Think about Kim

Maybe he reads recipe books to woo kim

        INSERT EXISTENTIAL BROTH EPISODE HERE to talk about how you've never actually seen Kim cook (he told you it was good soup, clearly lying, you told him it was broth, and that you could teach him how to make soup out of it if he wanted...)

(broth episode was another note, inserted here: 

ANOTHER harry coping fic. Miserable housebound weekend nights because he can't party but the house is horrible to be in and he keeps dunking his hands into more and more ice water and taking like half-body cold showers and he's like "maybe this is bad for my skin!!! I gotta get out holy shit" and he's like uhhhh fucking. Can't go to work. Let's go to the supermarket. And then he's almost there and he's like OH FUCK NO THERES ALCOHOL AT THE SUPERMARKET and he straight up bolts out of there and muscle memory gets him to a shady ass butcher shop in some random immigrant neighborhood and he buys so much fish because of a failed check and he goes home and basically he makes so much fish stock. He makes just so fucking much fish stock and Kim comes to pick him up the next day and panics because it genuinely smells like the dead in there but it's just harry making fucking. fish broth or something. Just harry coming up to the door in his work clothes with way too much cologne on and a thermos of fish soup like "uh... Do you want some Broth kim?" And Kim can't fucking cook but he takes some Broth anyway and he's trying to figure out why harry would do that but harry is being a little edgy about it and Kim is like oh god I need to help him a little and they have a sit down about it and he's like wanting to say "hey if you need somewhere to go I'm here for you" but it's hard and I don't even know if he ends up actually saying it. Okay bye)

Talking about the sexiness of supermarkets and how they make reptile brain go brrr

Think about alcohol vs smoking. Think about kimmy kim kim (insert european drinking joke here)

Have that get stuck in his head. Kim kimmy kim kimmy kimmy kim kim. Kimster. Kimbo. Kitsy. Kitty. Cutie. Oh god no fuck oh god I need to stop.

He goes home and still rlly wants to smonk

You hide the cigarettes around the house. It feels stupid, and you know you’ll be embarrassed having to pull the Jamrock Shuffle in your own apartment, that you’re a grown adult who could just *buy another box of cigarettes* whenever you wanted to, but you feel like it helps. Drag the killing thing away from the crappy little animal even for a couple moments more, let yourself get tired out like the old man you are below all the disco scaffolding. You can’t really bring yourself to shower, but you drag the radio into the bathroom with you and wash yourself in the sink. You try to be good about it- stay away from the mirror, really lather up and clear away the sweat that’s caked to you throughout the night and morning, feel the warm graze of the water on your skin. You brush shampoo through your hair and work it in in cycles, focus on the humming feeling of the bristles on your scalp, trying not to think of much of anything, just the smell of the cheap powdery soap and of what clothes you’ll wear today, try to settle into a better memory of this instead of picking at the shame you feel about how hard it is for you. ducking your head into the stream of the water in the sink and forgetting everything except the whishing, scratching sounds of cleaning.

Being clean feels good, and being dressed again feels maybe even better (knit sweaters are a revelation- who could’ve known polyester satin wasn’t made for seaside winters), so by the time you walk your way into the Jamrock public library the morning’s incidents are nigh-forgotten. The dry warmth of the old library is a reliable balm- the yellowed fluorescent lighting washing out the rows and rows of slate-grey plastic bookshelves lined up like soldiers over prerevolutionary tile, with its woven edges and dark, jeweled pinwheels of color, stretching out endlessly full of books, reels, and the rare intricate portrait hanging overhead. Before them, long wooden tables dotted with mismatched lamps, flickering in and out of use, occupied by antsy juveniles and sleeping hobos. It feels effortlessly like home, like a shared worldly past that welcomes everybody- and maybe that just means that it's generic and a little overdue for renovations, but you love it as it is.

Shuffling through the tall shelves of books, you weave through mindlessly to find your favorite sections- the history (both common and infra-cultural, with a surprisingly competent collection of industrial works and a predictably miserablly little shelf of homo-sexual underground interest), the art, and the meager offerings of political literature. You can hear your off-tune humming echo back to you somewhat feebly off the high, painted ceiling, done up in some lame facsimile of early Dolorian excess (therriers, noblewomen, forget-me-nots crowding the edges of each filligreed panel, dead-eyed faces in doleful expressions, pale and empty smiling). You've got all of daylight ahead of you, which is more than enough time to browse around as usual before you have to get yourself home and start cooking.

You turn the corner smoothly into the very back of the library, into a wider set of dusty and anachronistic wooden bookshelves-- history trends unpopular, considering the fact that all the books within are horrifyngly outdated due to a miserable municipal budget, maybe that's for the best. There are better places for students to get this information now, like the private library a couple blocks away at the Cycle Universitee, or from library dial-stations tuned in from the south, where the Bibliotheque Nacionelle Des Travailleures is run by Coalition-approved volunteers. The first thing to catch your eye is the pillar of works of infra-cultural expression and documentstion- essays and short stories from New authors, studies and zines on Disco, and of course, the particular political darling of the 20s, the homo-sexual underground.

You've read everything in this section- theory, history, photography- even, notably, the single commercial romance novel, comically bad, about a middle-aged Vespertine businessman travelling north to the harbour where he had experienced his first teenaged love-- and the young, strapping man he gets to know there. (There are boats involved- it's very biblical). All in all, you read it twice,  meticulously rewrote its horrifyingly vague and unsafe sex scenes (in pen, inside. Not like the librarian's gonna check it) and masturbated at your efforts, winning you a very sore wrist and about 30 minutes of crying because you remembered being in a bookshop with Kim in Martinaise while you were remembering what the world was, and then remembered Jean's apartment having a secret stack of equally terrible heterosexual novels bequeathed to him by an ex that you made fun of him for (rabidly, for years). You shudder, now, at the sight of its cracked spine looking you from the middle sill. Its gaze feels hefty and judgemental, and you do not like it.

There are  

KIM CHAPTAAAA

"you'd like him to take care of himself. You'd like to be there to do it for him when he can't"

"He opens the door, and immediately there are a million little things that test you (hell, with that thick-knit sweater he's wearing, any weakness in you would have him writhing on the floor in seconds). The half-up style of his now-so soft looking auburn hair, split across to reveal the pale white of his nape between the raised collar of his sweater, the kind wrinkling of his open smile upon seeing you walk in, the light, jazzy music of the radio backing his belly-deep laugh and the heady smell of incense in the room are all exhilaratingly Harry to you.

What to do with jean:Standalone fic for him?

Starts when he sees Harry with the eyebleed crew and he's the one who goes up to him like "WHAT IN THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING SHIT KID" and harry is like. Oh god oh fuck jean uh let's be... Cordial! Optimistic! (What jean sees is one of his signature pauses but like. Yeah it's the skills talking) and he's just like "oh it helps me stay sober and make friends, I found out about it on the radio🙂" and Jean is like holy fucking shit this is absolutely insane.

            1) bc Harry used to be so repressed he was basically homophobic with his macho act

            2)bc Jean originally didn't believe the amnesia thing but then when Harry genuinely did shit like this and never told him (which, if it was a cruel joke he would've tried to make it very public and obvious and drag jean into it to embarrass him)

            3) because JEAN was his friend and why the fuck does he just. Run off with random people with a radio ad instead

            4) because he's doing so well. He's like, fully at the sort of "this-side-of-pudgy" bear level that's hot enough to get him positive attention over the damage of the alcohol and he's wearing the sort of clothes that show it and he's got all these crew buddies where Jean is stuck with his hellish depression workouts where he sometimes works until he pukes and then feels like shit about self-harming like that. (what he doesn't know is that Harry is basically doing that same exact shit just he's using his swag alcoholic skills to lieeeeee about it. rip)

Maybe harry apologizes in their conversation about the romance novels. Like it blurts out.

eventually add in the previous consideration fic you were thinking of &quot

starting with bitter porno kimbo/viccy catfight bullshit

"no that's pathetic and he'd never go there." dynamic where kim cares quietly and jean is bitchy about Harry

then "no, he's dealt with harry so much already, I can't imagine." so it's all concern for him

and then that backslides into "how could I comfort him? how could he understand my need for comfort? "

we stan a mildly nonaccepted himself Jean so he's like "WAIT UH GAY THOUGHTS ABOUT THIS GUY TOO? FUCK FUCK FUCK"

gotta make it panic horny. it's a Dan Gat fic. how would kim look.... yknow......

since the only other guy who's been like that with him has been harry -> third wheel dynamic going to ->

horny ot3 dynamic. old men doting on him because it's his fantasy and he gets to be the pampered one goddamnit

end somehow

THIS IS THE EXACT DYNAMIC WE'RE GOING FOR Jean liked Harry premart and Harry was unbearably machismo repressed homophobic bullshitero man (I need to decide if he was stupid enough to be like AS LONG AS IM ON TOP IT ISNT GAYYYY or smth sex/intimacy related like that maybe he just kinda. ""comically"" hit on Jean or said suggestive shit to him but never fully acted on it) and then he comes back from Martinaise all loyal puppy dog or whatever for Kim and Jean is like "??? OKAY SO I GO THROUGH ALL THIS BULLSHIT AND HE TALKS SO BIG ABOUT LOVING MUSCLE DUDES AND NOW HES GONNA FUCK THIS GRANDPA?" but then he's like self-aware enough to know that's stupid.(Jean's problem is that he looks for wounds on Kim and not Harry, so he's all like "damn this bitch stole my mans when he's actually good...." meanwhile Harry is like Very Obviously Self Harming All The Time and not even really with Kim so often rip)

Harry wants to reach out and ask him about his thing with Kim because he has memories of Jean either being gay or being less homophobic or just having Gay Energy that he was an asshole about or whatever plus it just feels natural to work through shit with Jean but he stops himself because he's like "well DRINKING also felt natural that doesn't mean we should do it..."

maybe they get into it because Jean makes an offhand comment about "stop ogling kim" and harry is like (computer warmup noises) and jean just kinda forces him to spit it out RE: meme description

Harry's whole deal with avoiding Jean is "some things are unforgivable and I'm fairly sure I've done things bordering on that to you for so, so long, and now I don't even know what they were or who I was when I did them, to me that person is dead, and I know then that I can't apologize to you thoroughly, genuinely, and I don't want to insult you by presuming that I ever could, at this point. I don't want to insult you by assuming I can just go back to what we were before, to each other, without an apology or an actual understanding of what went wrong. I can't speak for certain about his mind-my mind- but at least in some part that guy killed himself because of what he did to you, and to everyone around him, sure, but mostly to you. And now I'm here, and it feels horrible to try and go against that and push myself into your life. It feels horrible to see I've done something to you worth killing myself over and then still insist on coming back to bother you beyond the grave"

And Jean's response is "you thought everything was bad enough to kill yourself over! And you're still alive, you're still him, and fuck, yes it'll take a long ass fucking time for me to ever really forgive you, but you were my best friend and you're still fucking alive- I see you every single day, Harry, do you know what that's like? To see your best fucking friend every single day and watch him flinch and try to act like he doesn't exist every single time he sees you? Fuck you and fuck what you wanted before, *I* never wanted you dead, and your little stunt here with pretending you're finally fine and then keeping everyone at an arm's distance is just another, slower grave you're digging" etc etc "if this is the upswing at last, I’d better be there for it.**”

Jean is a frat boy that you do not expect to be a frat boy. He unironically gets along with mack and chester. He's only just started to grow out of it through dealing with Harry's horrible downfall

sequel to geste drole des debutantes but it's just a 3 chapter PWP masturbation fic..... of Kim and Harry after the dinner and then SHOOKETH SURPRISE IT'S JEANGST YEARNING TIME!

Kim trans.... Good for him...

Stroker shit

He wants to fuck Harry basically

     ...slow tease? Or fast and desperate?

Dry kissing

Hair pulling...

Youre hard, and you're wet, and you can't help but think of that smile on his face as you left and you want him to taste it, to get on his knees for what he's done to you and swallow it all down, feels the soft brush of his beard on your thighs.

 Harry also trans... Good for them good for them...

Handkink shit

Wants kim to absolutely wreck his shit

... He's new at this

Slow....

Jean

Jeangst

Want to wreck harry's shit... Mouthfuck stuff maybe

Power bottoming?? Idk

Whoops my hardcore dom revenge fantasy has slipped into a getting bossed around by the guy I thought I disliked for taking away my partner UHH.... LETS NOT UNPACK THAT....

Some idiot makes like a homophobic stupid "ah the fucking lieutants off scissoring or something" comment and then jean is like "oh god what if that but sexual instead"

Gym shower...

Jean has a big dick too bad bitch

When harry du bois ruined his life, thinks satelitte-officer Jean Vicquemare- he might at least have had the decency not to also curse his dick. This shit was weekly and only getting worse, now that the shitkid didn't constantly smell like despair and carrion had scored a threesome with a bartender's manual.

[xfanfics]

Destiel Fic Rec List Part 3

Last Updated in October 2014. Posted in May 2020 for posterity. Listed in no particular order - the total rec list will have ~250 fics. Header graphic used with permission.

This part of the list contains: 37 fics.

Other Destiel Rec Lists: [1]. [2]. [3]. [4]. [5]. [6]. [7].

—–

Teenage Dirtbag by littleartemis E | 7k | Canon!verse, Hot, sub!dean, dom!cas

Dean gets magically deaged so he's physically young again. Problem is he's a 'twink' once more and he can't hunt like this. Frustrated he takes it out on Cas who's getting to the end of his patience and decides a spanking is in order. He just didn't figure in that Dean might enjoy it.

The Perks of Playing Quidditch by noangelsinthegarrison G | 1k | Fluff,  Wizarding World AU

“So,” Dean coughs, drawing Cas’s attention back to his eyes, “Any chance this taught you not to fly when you’re sick?    Cas chuckles low in his throat and thinks that if Dean Winchester catching him mid-air, strong arms holding him against a solid, warm chest, was his reward, he hasn’t learnt any such thing. He pushes the thought down before he can say it out loud and instead raises an eyebrow. “Dean, you played through a broken leg last year.

AGGHHHHHHHHHH SO CUTE  

Adiago by noangelsinthegarrison G | 6k | Fluff,  Dancer AU

“His name’s Dean," Cas sighs, "And he’s really stupidly attractive, and when he dances, he feels it, you know? And it makes me feel like I know him, even though I don’t. He makes me feel like… like he’s dancing just for me.    Gabriel rolls his eyes, “Wow you’re overdramatic when you’re horny.

This fic is super adorable. Lovely and full of pining, which happens to be my fave.    

Good Clean Wholesome All-American Kink by Amelia_clark E | 2k Hot, Canon!verse

Dean's stronger than Cas now, and Cas kind of hates that. So Dean finds a way around it--he just needs to be tied up.

ImmMmMMmm HOT    

Roots and Wings by Elensulev E | 51k [WIP] | BDSM AU, soulmate AU, sub!dean, dom!cas

In an alternate universe where you learn your soulmate sometime around puberty, Dean Winchester is shocked not just that he is a sub, but that a man's name appeared on his wrist. John Winchester doesn't suffer subs gladly, and Dean takes the brunt of his father's misogynistic attitude. Can the mysterious Castiel convince him he is worthwhile? AU where Sam and Dean are raised apart, Cas is human, and John is a hunter raised by a disgruntled Man of Letters.

A fusion of the soulmate's-name-on-the-wrist and the dom/sub verses. Though the John parts are painful to read (this fic is NOT for John-lovers), the over all effect is worth it, and gentle-dom!Cas is my absolute favorite. Edit from 2020: Holy SHIT this fic is long now.  

Highwaymen. by orange_crushedv M | 66k | Harry Potter AU

Dean closes his eyes. He is under a blanket in his memories, fabric pulled up under his chin and his face pressed near to hers on the pillow. His father is asleep, snoring slightly, hands loose and expression happy, curled around her on the other side. She's speaking in whispers. He knows that she was already pregnant then, that Sam was on his way into their lives, even though he'd had no idea what exactly that meant at the time. He can almost see her face still, warm and orange in the light of her lumos circling their heads like a firefly, but every now and then she blurs in his vision, like a lost thread of consciousness, something half-remembered. Bit by bit, he's losing her.

The Wizarding World AU I never knew I wanted!    

Understanding your body in ten easy steps by almaasi E | 12k | Canon!verse, Masturbation

All Dean has to do is track down a decent porno for Cas to watch, help him find his sensitive spots, then hang back and let him do his thing. Easy-peasy. No homo. ...Absolutely no homo at all.

Casturbation. Fuck yes.    

Blackboard by lemonoclefox E | 76k | College AU, BDSM elements, sub!dean, dom!cas

Castiel Novak is a college English teacher, in a rather inappropriate relationship with Dean Winchester, who happens to be one of his students. But although their arrangement is one that works perfectly for the both of them, Castiel is starting to worry that maybe keeping it impersonal will be harder than he thought.

Perfect. The story is actually 8 chapters long, but the other 8 chapters are told from Dean's point of view.  

On Air by wincechesters E | 21k | Fluff, Radio Host AU

Cas and Dean are radio DJs who host the second most popular morning show in Lawrence. They’ve been co-hosts for years at different stations across the country, and they own a house together out of necessity, even though they’re just friends. But for some reason, a lot of their listeners and even some of their friends and family seem to think that they’re secretly in some kind of relationship, which they’re totally not (besides that one time that totally doesn’t count). In spite of that, Dean thinks he’s got everything figured out, until an ill-fated on air game of Truth or Dare turns everything upside down (and the billboards around town aren’t helping either).

FLUFFY CUTENESS AWW    

Courage of Stars by mcpadalacklesv T | 3k | College AU,

Dean's brain is stuck on 'he's leaving me he's leaving me' and he thinks about saying don't go or I'll come with you, but what comes out of his mouth is, "I don't think you get loose-leaf tea on the moon.Wherein Dean (who owns a bookstore) and Cas (an astrophysicist grad student) have been best friends since they were kids, NASA nearly screws things up, and tea is mentioned far too often.

THIS IS ADORABLE JFC. I loved the part about tea strainers omg  

How to Improve a dull day by arigatou_sunshine E | 7k | Soulmates AU, ABO, omega!dean, alpha!cas

Dean's about to pick up something not on his grocery list.At 28, Dean meets his alpha while shopping for groceries.

I just... Um. Yes. I have a sweet spot for the true mates trope and this is a very sweet example of that :)  

Ignite by angelofthemoorv E | 86k | Vampire AU

While investigating a lead regarding a serial killer, Dean Winchester suffers a beating. When he wakes up, he discovers a stranger named Castiel has been caring for him. But Castiel has a secret--he is a vampire. He is not like other vampires, however. His mission is to protect humankind, and he has been pursuing the serial killer, too. Will the friendship between Dean and Castiel endure the trials ahead? Will their mutual attraction develop into something more?

Feels 'Verse  by Gemmiel E | 18k | Fluff,  Alt!canon

Castiel discovers that being human is very different from being an angel, physically speaking, and Dean helps him explore the differences. AU for season 9 in which Cas goes straight to the bunker and Sam heals spontaneously from the trials.

Wow this verse is so lovely and fluffy that I just want to cuddle it. Basically how Season 9 should have gone.  

Thunder & Angels by pm_lo E | 51k

Castiel’s family owns the shoddily-regulated coal mine where John Winchester works, so Dean storms Cas’s mansion, demanding answers from the drugged-out trust-fund kid. In exchange for his help repairing the mine, Cas demands Dean live with him for three months and give Cas a shot at seducing him by allowing him one kiss a day.

AHHHH!!! This was PERFECT. Love the characterizations, plot, fluff and angst amaze. read the thingggg    

Cockiness by robomanticv E | 7k | Hot,  AU Panty!kink

Dean didn’t usually come to this kind of place, but Sam had given him the puppy dog eyes and argued and pleaded and even bribed him with pie. He was seeing some new girl who apparently very into the alternative burlesque scene and she had invited them to come see a show on her night off. Aka: The one where Dean sees his first burlesque show, learns that male burlesque performers are a thing, and tries a lot of new (sexual) things. Also my Castiel underwear kink makes an appearance because I'm weakkkk

Bunker 41 by CaptainMercy42 T | 25k | Fluff, Scientist AU

Dr. Castiel Novak is giving Lieutenant Dean Winchester a simple tour of BUNKER41 when an explosion traps them both inside. They'll get out eventually. Some days that thought is very comforting, and other days it makes Cas a little sad (DENIAL: a lot sad).

CUDDLING.

Pulled From The Wreckage  by DarkmoonSigel M | 30k | Alt!canon, wing!kink

Angel and shameless wingfic. Dean notices that he is changing into something but is it something that he can accept? Mature for a reason for later chapters so bear with me here.

The Auction by TamrynEradani E | 8k

Dean's a firefighter and Cas is a police officer, and they both end up at the bar, miserable after their auction dates. Lucky for them, the night is still young.

I just um... Hnng. Firefighter!Dean and Cop!Cas.    

Welcome to the Dork Side by TamrynEradani T | 15k

Dean's handing out pie when he has an odd encounter with Castiel Novak.

Super cute! :)    

Both Sides Now by TamrynEradani T | 21k |Alt!canon, genderswap!dean

Dean solves a hunt and realizes he's in love. He does most of this while cursed into a female body which means he's also dealing with being a woman, and it's more complicated than he had realized.

Shut Your Mouth by runoutofwit E | 2k | Hot, Dom!Cas

Dean’s not sure how they ended up this way, but he doesn’t care. He didn’t expect this. He didn’t expect Castiel, Angel of the Lord, to be the equivalent of a hormone-ravaged teenager, and he sure as hell didn’t expect him to be an asshole about it.

Hella dom!cas with bossy!bottom dean mmm.    

What I need by xaandria E | 46k | Medical AU

A joking phrase commonly heard between a surgeon and his tech is "Give me what I need, not what I ask for." Dr. Novak and his tech Dean will soon learn the impact this phrase has on life outside the operating room.

Surgical AU! Very terminology heavy, so I didn't understand some parts. But very good regardless.    

Starborn by riseofthefallenone G | 12k

Dean’s obsession with the stars starts all thanks to Sam. He just didn't know where that would take him in life. Or who - or what - he would meet.

This is LOVELY.    

Love Out of Chaos by mar_map E | 30k

Sam needs homework help, Dean likes to cuddle (although he won't admit it), John gets shot, Gabriel teaches Castiel to loosen up, and Balthazar likes to flirt. That's not what's important though. What is important, is that Castiel and Dean were always meant to be (even if the two of them have trouble seeing it at first), and though Castiel lost his family, another one just might have sneaked up on him while he wasn't looking.

You Deserve This by ticklethetoastl E | 2k | Fluff,  PWP Canon!verse

Sex with Cas was never supposed to be an emotional experience, and Dean doesn't deserve to be made love to.

Praise!kink is my ultimate weakness.    

S'only you. by louise97 T | 3k

Dean wasn't sure about what exactly had led them there—the cuddle accident, morning wood issues or the growing tension between them for the past few days—but yet there they were, and he had no fucking idea what to do (at first).

*keyboard smash* soOOoOoO CUTE  

Freckles by 2spooky4u E | 7k | Fluff

"I had to draw all them perfectly," Cas insists, and Dean suddenly can't get rid of the image of Cas, clutching on to a Crayola washable marker, jamming it into his skin forcefully like a little kid mashes his markers on the paper in a vehement attempt to make the color deeper. ”And now you're insulted 'cause I don't appreciate 'em?" Dean asks, bewildered. "No," Cas lies petulantly. "Huh." The stubborn child version of Cas Dean has painted in his mind is now clutching his paper possessively, shielding it from scrutiny. They drive in silence for a while. "Thank you for making my freckles," Dean grouses finally, knowing that it's the only way Cas will forgive him. ((((OR, IN WHICH CAS LIKES DEAN AND HIS FRECKLES, AND DEAN IS STUBBORNLY HETEROSEXUAL))))

Simple and adorable. Pining!cas and Discovering his bisexuality!Dean. Addresses Dean's self worth issues :D️    

Appoggiatura by ceeainthereforthat E | 121k | College au

Castiel leaves the religious commune of Heaven Farms to study classical piano after winning a full scholarship paid for by the Deanna Campbell Memorial Foundation, and answers an ad in the campus newspaper: 1 bedroom to let. Meals provided. 50mb wifi, quiet odd music student preferred.

Super interesting world building. Love the imagery and writing style.    

Good Books, Bad Movies by Amelia_Clark E | 17k | Fluff, Hot,  Bookstore AU

Castiel Novak is an award-winning, heavily tattooed writer of dark fantasy (think China Mieville). Dean Winchester runs a quirky book/video store called Good Books, Bad Movies. There's a reading, some lit-nerd flirting, and eventually smut amongst the shelves.

First of all, this is adorable. Second of all it's smoking hot.    

Alone Together by ScarletPhoenix E | 26k | Dean/Cas/BennyA/b/o AU

Dean Winchester has never expected to be happy. As an omega, his only hope is that he’ll end up with an alpha that’ll think of him as a human being and take him away from his abusive father. Castiel Novak isn’t allowed to be happy. As a beta, he’s forced by his parents to hide who he is under fake bravado and forced hormone therapy. The one thing that keeps him going is his love for his best friend, Dean. Benny Lafitte has given up on happiness. As an alpha, he should be mated with little ones running around under feet, but that isn’t how life played out. Instead he focuses on running his restaurant and ignoring his empty house. When these three meet, will they finally find the happiness they deserve?

Come Clean by snuggycas E | 3k | Hot,  A/B/O AU, PWP, Omega!dean, Alpha!cas

When Sam makes Dean help for the Universities annual car wash fundraiser, he meets Castiel Milton, a business intern who is finishing his masters degree. When they go on a date and Dean's heat suppressants fail, they make a discovery that will change their lives forever. This is all porn to be honest.

Hot and Cute <3 Also this hit all my kinks haha.    

grip them tight and raise them from pernicion by flux E | 20k | Fluff,  Much ado about nothing au, highschool au

Dean and Cas have been at each other's throats for years, but Anna and Sam are determined to change that for the better. With a well-placed love letter and some careful direction, they manage to get the two into a semi-antagonistic, fiercely competitive, and emotionally confusing game of relationship chicken. Now they just need to get to prom.

Fucking adorable and hilarious. I love much ado about nothing so much, and this was a wonderful rendition!  

The face of heaven. by orange_crushed T | 9k | Fluff,  AU

"This is the best day of my life," Castiel tells him, when he comes back. "You’ve been so kind to me." His cheeks are glowing a little from the cold, or maybe just because he’s an otherworldly being full of light. Dean doesn’t know. "If I burn another million years, I won’t forget it. "Oh," says Dean. "Good." (In which Castiel is a fallen star.)

PERFECT! Oh my heart!    

Hold Me Close by twisting_vine_x E | 7k | Star trek AU

Pon farr Destiel AU. In which Castiel is a half-Vulcan scientist, Dean is an engineer, and they’re best friends who are stationed aboard the USS Enterprise for her first five-year voyage. An away mission going wrong. Getting stranded together on some deserted planet. Just another day in the lives of a couple of Starfleet officers, but when the Vulcan side of Cas suddenly makes itself know, he and Dean are put in a position that has the potential to either make or break them.

Ghost Dance  by omphalos E | 51k | Angst, Alt!Canon

In post-apocalyptic isolation, Castiel nurses Dean back to something like his former self, but will a time come when Dean's recovered --and rediscovered-- too much?

Very angsty, very sad. This wrecked me with perfection. Be sure to read the tags.    

  Meringue by SurlyCat E | 23k | Dean/Cas/Jimmy, Hot, College AU

Dean and Cas have been together for about six months, when Cas starts to get antsy about their sex life. The sex has been good and all, but what Dean doesn't know is that his shy, sweet little boyfriend has been holding back. One confusing spur of the moment date with his boyfriend's twin later, and Dean finds out that Cas may not be as innocent as he thought.

*fans self* well basically this is really hot and you should read it. if you're into d/c/j of course.    

A Room Of One's Own by NorthernSparrow E | 94k | Hot,  alt!canon

All Dean wants is a little privacy. Cas doesn't understand.

Omfg. This was hilarious, wonderful, and hot. A+. Basically crack, but with emotional moments and hot porn. so, yep.

[mayve-hems]

Amnesia | Luke Hemmings

Type: IMAGINE | ONE SHOT | MULTI CHAPTER

Summary: After his girlfriend killed herself, Luke is forced to come to terms with her death and her funeral

Word Count: 4.4k

Note: A sad and possibly triggering story. It’s short and not my best work, but I’ve tried my hardest and I hope you’ll leave a like! I’d like to thank my friend Jo for proofreading this story! Also, this is not my gif. 

Warnings: Cussing, mentions and scenes of self-harm, mentions of parental abuse, depressed Luke Hemmings, angst, suicide

Normal

Flashback

-

Luke presses part of the soft pillow to his ear, trying to drown out the thoughts flooding his brain. His head is pounding with thoughts from months ago, imagining her body right next to his. The blood pouring out of the wound, staining sheets, and his clothes. The shirt he wore that night was left at her house, discarded right there when he had to lift her dead body off the mattress. She was light in his arms; weightless like an angel floating in thin air. His blue -for some reason he wore blue that night- jeans are stuffed in the corner of his closet, soaked thick with blood down the front.

"You're an idiot," Y/N giggled, shoving a spoon into his mouth. His top jaw fell onto the metal, freezing his gums with frozen yogurt. "Is it good?" Y/N had the most beautiful smile Luke had ever laid eyes on. Her teeth bit down on her lip when she smiled, bringing her boyfriend's attention to the plump skin. Luke absolutely adored Y/N. She caught his eye in middle school, finally gave him a chance in high school, and had been dating since. Liz Hemmings described the couple as inseparable and loving. Every time Y/N had to go home from Luke's house, he'd walk her the seven-block distance, kissed her under the moonlight, and would walk home while on the phone with her.

Luke nodded his head, confirming what Y/N thought of her favorite frozen yogurt flavor. "Tastes just like you," Luke leaned forward to connect his lips with Y/N's. She tasted the yogurt on his lips, basking in the sweetness mixed with Luke. Her hand grabbed onto the collar of his shirt when he tried to pull away. Just to keep him close for a little while longer. Just a few seconds.

Luke bit into the skin on the back of his hands, suppressing a sob. She was gone so quickly; it took her almost no time to bleed out completely. Too much blood gone, and her heart was dead. There was nothing Luke could do to stop the bleeding. He regrets not opening her door sooner- he regrets waiting for her to say it was okay to go into her room!

"Is it hot in here or is it just you?"

Luke shoved Y/N's shoulder, pushing her into the grass a little bit as he continued down the sidewalk. "I hate you," Luke laughed off.

It's all his fault!

"Are you sure you're not tired? You've been running through my mind all day!"

"I am tired, Hemmings, but it's because it's the middle of the night,"

"Way to ruin it, dork,"

Luke rolled over, suffocating himself in a bedspread and duvet. His bare torso is hot and sweaty, but on the inside, he's frozen and cold, breathing in pieces of ice. He looks at the wall next to the side of his bed- the bed Y/N and he had pressed against the wall just days before her death so they could hang polaroids of them both. They made a heart out of the polaroids right next to Luke's windows, with 'Y/N & LUKE' written right above it. Though there were pictures of Luke with all of his friends too, most were of her. His favorite- a picture of her sitting on him with her head thrown back in laughter, wrapping her right arm around the back of his neck. She was smiling- cackling with laughter from a stupid pickup line. Ashton took it on Christmas. Luke remembered only because of her brand-new skinny jeans; she had gotten them that morning and tore them the same night. He wants to rip it off the wall, into pieces, and set every last bit on fire.

The only reason he didn't is that they're all he has left of her.

"What do you call a cheese you can't have- Wait!" Luke let go of Y/N's hand and turned to face her. She was buried in his favorite hoodie, letting it reach to her thighs. Luke just stared at her for a moment, forgetting his joke. He admired her: messy hair, ripped skinny jeans, combat boots, and his hoodie. He couldn't imagine an outfit that would make her look better. "What . . ." Luke shook his head, trying to resurrect the memory of the joke. "What's the cheese that you can't have?"

Y/N smiled that smile where her eyes would close. The smile that proved just how in love with Luke Hemmings she is. "What, Homo?"

"Nacho Cheese!"

Y/N tucked her face into her hands, laughing from idiocy, hilarity, and how excited Luke was to get it right. Luke pulled her hands away from her face, forcing her close to him. They kissed before continuing their walk around town. "You're stupid."

"Yeah."

Luke covered his head with the duvet. His mum taught him that if you're under a blanket for too long, you can suffocate. No new airflow- only carbon dioxide. He hopes he'll suffocate with her memory sitting on the tip of his tongue.

"Luke?" a voice came from behind his bedroom door. Somebody rasped their knuckles against the wood. "I know you're awake." Luke didn't dare make a sound or move. He wanted to be left alone without anybody bothering him. "Get up or I'm coming in." No reply. Calum shoved his way into Luke's room. He pinched his nose immediately. "Gross! You stink. When was the last time you showered?"

He showered the blood off his skin and from under his nails the morning that Y/N was pronounced dead. The sun was barely up, and he was mourning the death of his long-time girlfriend during a sobfest under cold water. Since that day, he has drunk a bottle of water in total and gone to the bathroom. "Get out." Luke's voice was raspy from dehydration and lack of speaking.

"Take a shower."

"I said get out!" Luke screamed. He clutched a pillow from his floor and shot it towards Calum as hard as he could. He hasn't eaten in a week; he has no strength to get the pillow hurled painfully at his friend.

"Take a shower," Calum said in a calm tone. He wanted to reason with his younger friend rather than anger him again. "Eat what your mom made you," Calum stared at the snacks Liz had brought to Luke over the past few days. She'll step into his room while he's sleeping and place something fulfilling on his nightstand and pray that he consumed it. "Her funeral is today. You have to go."

"You don't think I know that!"

"Luke," Calum whispered. "I know it's hard, but-"

"-But what, Calum?" Luke was on the verge of crying. Calum had only seen his best friend like that a few times in his life. "She's dead. The love of my life is dead because of me!"

"Luke," Calum whispered. The room was filled with emotion nipping at Calum's seams. Luke's feelings tore at Calum's nerves, feasting and shredding them until he was practically crying along with his friend. Calum swallowed hard. The older of the two restrained all of his feelings. "Please just get up and eat something. We're all worried about you."

Luke slid over in his bed a little bit. Calum sat down on Luke's grey sheets and opened his arm. Calum and Luke don't show emotion that much, though everyone has a breaking point. Luke drifts into Calum's body, shoving his head into Calum's chest. The olders arm falls and pats the younger body. "It's all my fault!" Luke violently sobs. He's soaking his friends' white shirt, but Calum doesn't mind.

When Luke first laid eyes on Y/N he had to do everything in his power to learn her name. His hand shot up in the middle of Mrs. Montgomery's math class, asking for the new girl to be his partner. Y/N smiled and nodded her head to the teacher, confirming that she wanted to be with Luke.

In her leather jacket and skinny jeans, she sat down right next to Luke. She moved a braid over her shoulder and leaned in really close. Luke could smell mint on her breath. "What's your name?"

"Luke," Y/N smiled at him. "What's yours?"

"Y/N!"

"That's really your name?"

"Yeah," Y/N snickered. "My parents were a little weird."

"There's nothing wrong with weird."

"It's not your fault Luke," Calum whispered. He continued patting the emotional seventeen-year-old. "It's none of our faults. You didn't know-"

"-Calum shut up," Luke whispered. He pulled away from Calum's shirt, feeling bad about leaving a trail of tear marks on the right breast. "You don't understand. I loved her so much, and it's all my fault."

Calum met Y/N before she met Luke. Calum thought Y/N was gorgeous too, but she liked Luke more than Calum. Her death had a huge impact on Calum, one of her best friends, along with Ashton Irwin and Michael Clifford. Luke didn't know that Calum had been in love with Y/N since they were young too. He wouldn't ever tell him that either.

"What if we pushed our Minecraft beds together," Luke whispered from behind Y/N as she stirred a pot of pasta. He wrapped his arms around her fragile body, resting his hands on her ribs. She laid her head against his on her shoulder. "Just kidding . . . . unless?"

"You're stupid," Y/N rolled her eyes. She tapped the wooden spoon on the edge of the black pot before setting it down on the counter. Her body flipped around to face her boyfriend. "But we should. I want a bigger bed to sleep on. I'll make you sleep on the ground." Y/N kissed Luke.

"That's not what I meant, Y/N,"

Y/N smirked and got on her tippy-toes to kiss Luke again. "I know."

Calum convinced Luke into getting out of his room. Liz almost fainted seeing her son walking through her house shirtless and without complaining. Luke stared at the ground as his feet shuffled further and further against the carpet. Liz perked up when her youngest son caught her eyes, but Calum's face told her that he was only out of his room by force.

"I'm gonna' go take a shower," Luke muttered, shoving back his greasy hair. He made his way into the cold bathroom and closed the door behind him. He didn't even turn on the light; he let the window in the shower illuminate the small room. He shoved his pants to the cold ground and stared at his dark reflection in the mirror.

Dirt stuck under his fingernails pretending to be black French tips. His nails would be longer, but he chews them off in his sleep when he remembers what she looks like. In the daytime, he gnaws on his raw fingers without realizing what he's doing. Luke's belly caves in on his ribs; his legs seemed to be a shade dark with dirt; his hands feel weak and bloodless.

"You have such a babyface,"

"Fuck off, Y/N,"

"You do!"

Luke brushes his hand over his rough face, feeling the facial hair just barely growing.

"I'll grow a beard just for you!"

"You could be growing that until the day I die and it still won't show up!"

"Try me, Y/N!"

He flipped around and punched the wall behind him. A dent doesn't form from his fist but red marks form on his knuckles. How could he just let her go like that? He continues punching until somebody knocks on the bathroom door. Luke halts his actions, feeling tears roll down his cheeks.

"I'm fine," he tells whoever is behind the door. "I'm perfectly fine."

-

Returning to his room, Luke feels weak and like he's on the verge of collapsing. He closes his door behind him and falls onto his freshly-made bed. It smells like laundry detergent and Y/N's favorite perfume. The smells seem to be mixed in a blanket Liz picked from his closet and threw onto her sons' clean bed. Luke sat in the shower long enough for Liz to tidy up his room- he's forever grateful that she did that for him. Though, he feels terrible that she's the one that had to clean.

"I'm cold," Y/N giggles. Her hair tickles the underneath of Luke's child when she snuggles even closer to him. "Why do you keep it two degrees in here?"

Luke breaks his concentration of Deadpool playing on his flatscreen. His sparkly eyes look around the room to search for a blanket. He tucked in his duvet and bedsheets when Y/N said she was coming over to watch a movie, and he didn't want to mess it up. He reached for the blanket just under his bed and laid it over his girlfriends' small shoulders. "I like the cold,"

Luke does like the cold, but when Y/N said she was on her period, Luke looked up different things to help. They had snacks laid out in front of them: chocolate, chips, doughnuts, fruit, pizza, leftover pasta, and nachos that Y/N said she was craving. Something told him that your body temperature goes up, so he turned the thermostat down and put joggers and a hoodie on. He'll give the hoodie to Y/N when she's almost asleep so she has something to clutch onto.

He never got that hoodie back. The blanket, though, now sits on his bed, covering the mattress. Luke can't cry though; he's cried so much in the past few hours all he wants to do is fall asleep. He resists the urge, though, when he sees the outfit Liz picked out for him on his bed.

He thinks of himself as a little kid- mommy had to pick out his outfit. He can't bring himself to make fun of it though. He just isn't feeling like it. He dresses in the black button-down and black slacks and attaches the dark grey suspenders to the front of his pants, then the back. It's not his style, but it's what Liz chose for the funeral. It still boggles his mind that he’s attending Y/N's funeral.

"What are the six elements of art?" Luke asked Y/N, resting his chin on the top of her head. His hand dipped into the purple bath water to wrap his arm around the front of her body. Y/N had a huge art final in the morning, but needed relaxation and to review. Luke's first plan was to take a dip into the ocean. The chilly air prohibited them from even thinking of resting their toes in the water under the moonlight. Luke drew a scorching bath and threw in essential oils he knows Y/N favors and the only bath bomb that he could find underneath the sink; she rested in his arms, on the verge of sleep.

Y/N thought about her answer. "Color, form, shape, space, texture, and-" her brain was buffering, forgetting the last element she had to study. She turned her body so her shoulder was up against Luke's chest, their legs still tangled into a mess on the bottom of the porcelain tub. " . . . uh?"

"Y/N, you know this,"

She looked up at her gorgeous boyfriend through her eyelashes, clinging onto the memory of Art I. She ran a wet hand through his quiff, dampening the strands of hair down to his head. "Your hair is so soft." He laughed, but still pressed further for the answer. "Line?"

Luke leaned his head down to press his lips to hers. "Correct."

Luke stares at his hands while he sits at the breakfast table. Calum and Ashton shove a jar of jelly between the two of them. Calum sets the jar on Luke's untouched plate. Luke stares inside at the fruit-flavored gelatin without responding. The glass canister is almost empty with a full serving left at the bottom. It clings to the sides with a spoon mark on the bottom where somebody just shoveled it straight out. It's Y/N's favorite flavor- the type he only bought for when she was hungry.

Her voice is screaming at him. "This is all your fault, Hemmings!" She's screaming at the top of her lungs inside of his head- he's ears are the only ones that hear her screaming. Luke's skull throbs while she screams. He can't even hear Liz asking if he's okay. "This is all your fault!" Y/N continues to scream. In an attempt to make her screaming stop, Luke picks the jar from his plate and drops it into the trash can. With a booming sound, the glass breaks into pieces at the bottom of the bag. The screaming continues; she's all he can hear. "You killed me, Luke!"

Liz turns her son away from the trash can. His body jumps in surprise at the feeling of somebody's hands touching him- he's a killer. He doesn't deserve love. Her mouth opens and she speaks, but her voice is absolute silence to Luke. He squints at her. He can barely make out her frame, feeling the world spin on a single point. Luke feels dizzy, about to fall over on top of his mother. Liz barely catches her son and guides him back to his seat. His head falls into his empty plate where the screaming continues.

"We should adopt a dog!"

"You can barely take care of your little brother, Y/N,"

"Yeah but he's an unlovable prick. A dog is different."

Luke tries to telepathically tell his recently-adopted dog to come to jump into his lap. Frank ignores his father's fake telepathic abilities and continues laying underneath the table. Frank's an old pug, abandoned at the animal shelter. Y/N's house didn't want it and the Hemmings did. Frank is a Hemmings no matter what.

"I want to run away,"

"But I'll miss you."

Everybody is a Hemmings.

"But I hate my parents and the way they treat me!"

Luke wraps his arm around Y/N, cuddling his head into her neck. They're constantly cuddling, laying together, kissing, or just holding hands. Luke is affectionate and wants to just show how much he loves his girlfriend.

Including Y/N.

"We only have a few more years. Then we'll be out, living in Paris and enjoying tea and crumpets at the top of the Eiffel Tower,"

"I hate tea."

"Mhm,"

Luke gave her a promise ring over a year ago; a beautiful silver ring with 'HEMMINGS' engraved inside of the band in his handwriting. On the outside was her last name in her kindergarten handwriting. Luke was close with Y/N's parents before her death to the point he'd spend time with her little brother when she was at practice or out with other friends. They would play Fifa, or watch TV, or do something stupid. He was always welcomed there- and her parents expressed such excitement when he asked for Y/N's young handwriting. They thought it was adorable and would probably get her out of the house quicker if she had a high school sweetheart.

"You killed me!" Y/N screamed in Luke's mind.

"I love you, Lu,"

"I hate you, Luke!"

The last thing that Y/N ever said was 'I love you, Lu,' with a kiss seconds before her heart stopped and she continued bleeding out. The images of blood shown in Luke's memory. Both of her arms had been stained red from the non-reversible wounds she inflicted on herself. The goddess-like teenager didn't leave behind a note, didn't tell anybody, didn't even give off a sign that she would follow through with self-inflicted harm. Luke only went to her house against her will because he wanted to calm her down from crying.

"What's your favorite . . . drink?"

"I'm really into water," Luke smirked before dripping his head under the surface of the ocean. His long body dove down and grabbed her ankles. The giraffe lifted her feet from the sand and forced her into the Aussie water. She smashed into his legs after a loud splash.

"Luke!" everybody at the table screamed, catching Luke's attention from Y/N's screaming. His head shot up to stare at everyone. Calum's different shirt; Ashton's perfect hairstyle; Michael's black hair; Andrew's black suit; Liz's fancy dress. They all just stick into his mind and grasp his attention long enough to hear what they're pleading out.

"What are you thinking about?" Michael finally asks.

"It's my fault." Luke chokes out before shoving two pieces of crisp toast into his mouth. Bare toast- without butter or jam. He has to swallow hard through the scratchy feeling of toasted bread falling down his dry throat.

"What's your fault?" inquires Liz.

Luke ignores her. His hands reach for another piece of toast before he stands up and scurries back into the comfort of his bedroom.

-

"Woah, Hemmings," Calum wavered his hand towards Luke to grab the bottle of tequila out of his quivering hands. "Calm down there, man. You'll get alcohol poisoning." 

Luke wanted to tell Calum that was his plan. On an almost-empty stomach, Luke was developing a drunk sense, quickly. From just a few chugs out of a fifth of tequila, his head was starting to feel fuzzy and his thoughts were beginning to blur. He swung his feet back and forth off the ledge of the rock he planted his butt on. He studied the water below; a dark blue color with rocks surrounding the edges of the ravine. "How deep do you think the water is down there?" Luke asked, pointing towards the blue. With Calum distracted, he grabbed the bottle back and took another swig. "Twenty, thirty feet?" 

"No clue," Calum replied before snatching the bottle away from his drinking friend. A bit of it spilled down Luke's face and onto his dress shirt. Payback for Luke soaking through Calum's with tears. "Supposedly if you jump from here you'll be killed instantly. Either that or you'll drown before you get help." 

"Huh," Luke answered. Ashton sat down right next to Luke with another bottle of alcohol. Michael was on the opposite side of Calum, messing around with a game on his phone. All eight of their legs continued dangling down the side gorge, touching their feet to nothing but actual air. "Ash, how deep do you think the water is-"

"-Luke I have no clue," Ashton interrupted. He handed Luke his personal bottle and let the golden blond chug until he could no longer swallow. It didn't take that long. The elder took the bottle back and let the younger lay drunk head on his shoulder. "Are you okay?" 

"Not a single bit," Luke whispered. He thought he could hear the sounds of water hitting the rocks. "My girlfriend killed herself and it's all my fault." This was the place they'd always get drunk; Y/N, Ashton, Michael, Luke, and Calum would sit right here on this exact rock and drink until they couldn't walk. Michael hates tequila, so they'd always choose him as a designated driver after they'd all be wasted. "I wish I could wake up with amnesia." 

"Why?" 

"To forget everything," Luke shrugged. He didn't want to remember a single memory. Not a single thing, but every little sliver of the gorgeous girl was running through his brain on a slide show. "Like the way it felt to fall asleep next to her or-" Luke swallowed the memory on his tongue. "I can't escape the memories, Ash." 

"None of us can, Lu," Ashton replied. He didn't mean it in a hard, Get Over It, way, but it slipped out of his mouth. Luke must have not taken it that way because he continued staring at the sunset. "You're never around anymore. We miss you." 

"No, you don't." Luke took the bottle away from Ashton for another chug, trying to kill the hardest memory. "If I woke up with her right beside me like this was just . . . a twisted dream," Luke pressed the lip of the bottle to his mouth and began drinking again. He broke the seal on his mouth when his eyes began watering. Luke pressed the bottle into Ashton's chest. "I'd hold her so close and she would never slip away."

"Luke," Michael called out. Luke shot a look at his black-hared friend wearing a backward snapback. Michael's eyes connected with Luke's. "It's going to be okay. You'll be able to get over this." 

Luke laughed. "No, I won't," 

"Y/N?" Luke knocked on Y/N's door for the fourth time in a minute. She didn't answer, just like the three times before. She let out a strangled cough and another cry. "You called me crying. I . . . I brought you some flowers, and my hoodie, and-" Luke looked down at his hoodie. He dropped the flowers to the floor so he could peel the sweatshirt off his body. It's her favorite one. "Please," Luke groaned before knocking again. She didn't cough, or cry, or do anything. That's not right. 

"She called me before she slit her wrist," Luke looked out to the sunset. "She called me!" He screamed with all his might. The alcohol was wearing off. "And I waited outside of her bedroom door to be let in, while she was dying." 

"Y/N?" Luke knocked again. Y/N made no sounds. That's not like her. He pushed open the door to see the worst scene right in front of him. She was laying on her unmade bed with blood pouring out of her skin, surrounding her body in a puddle. Luke dropped everything in his hands to grab her body. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and tore the blanket away from the wall to soak up blood and press into her wounds. Her mouth made a stinging noise as he screamed to the emergency operator. 

"I waited to go into her room, and I killed her." 

"She didn't kill herself because of you!" Calum yelled. "It's not your fault, Luke! Her parents made her feel bad and-" 

"She called me to talk and I said that I was busy!" Luke screamed with such emotion Michael felt it. "As I said I would come over, she ended the call. So it's my fucking fault, Calum!" 

"She killed herself because of her parents," Ashton whispered. "Not because you couldn't talk. They proved that while you were on the phone she was already bleeding out." 

"I could have saved her!" 

Y/N died in Luke's arms right after pressing a cold, bloody kiss to his lips. He tasted metallic and in the next moment, she was limp. 

Luke stood up from the rock formation. He was teetering dangerously close to the edge. "I just wish . . . " Luke swallowed. 

"Luke, step ba-" 

"-I just wish that I could wake up with amnesia." 

"Luke!" Ashton called out. "Step back from the ledge before you get hurt!" 

Luke turned towards his friends. Ashton's hands reached for Luke, but the younger boy batted his hands away. Calum and Micahel tried to reach for Luke's arm, but Luke shoved everything stretching towards him away. He didn't want to be caught; he didn't need somebody to hold him. "I wish that I could wake up with amnesia and forget everything." Luke's heals were barely on the Earth anymore. He stretched his arms out beside him as if he were balancing on a beam. His eyes shut. He friends reached for body parts to grab and clothing to catch, but it was too late. He was already falling into the water.

-

Request here

[bigskydreaming]

Comic book Zatanna is VERY different from YJ Zatanna. To such a degree that rather than look at YJ Zatanna as an adaptation of her, I pretty much just think of them as entirely different characters. Like YJ Zatanna is named after her older cousin or something, who’s too busy dealing with mystical threats to ever show up onscreen. Its pretty significant what a difference changing a character’s age and what generation they’re a part of can make.

(Its also why I don’t ship Dick/Zatanna in YJ. My go-to Zatanna will always be the comics one, who’s like....dated his DAD. Its like how a couple of adaptations have tried to pair Bruce/Babs as a nod to like waaaaaaaaaaaaaay early versions of Batgirl, when like...no, Babs has dated Dick, his son, in way too many comics and cartoons what are you even doing, I DISREGARD YOU, FALSE CANON. Anyway.)

So, in the comics, Zatanna is the same age as Bruce, or near enough. And she and Bruce have a long history together, (including at times a romantic one) because in some continuities, before he was Batman, when he was still traveling the world and learning from every teacher he could, he frequently visited circuses and carnivals and the like. They were where he learned escape artist tricks, picked up things from magicians’ acts like Zatanna’s (such as sleight of hand and misdirection, etc), and acrobatics. Its literally been given as a reason he was at Haly’s Circus the night Dick’s parents died - he was scoping out their act to see if there were any tricks he could learn from or incorporate into his own repertoire.

What I’m getting at is Bruce knew Zatanna even before he was Batman for the exact same reason he met Dick. He inserted himself into the circles both of them traveled in as members of performer families with a generations long history with circuses and Vegas and carnivals and the like.

Which means....take Bruce out of the equation, and there’s still every chance that Dick and Zatanna’s paths could have crossed while they were both still performers. And that their families could have known each other.

So! AU where Zatanna was in Gotham visiting friends at Haly’s the night the Graysons died. And rather than watch Dick get shoved into an uncaring system when they took him away from the circus and refused to let him stay with them, the Mistress of Magic spirited Dick away and took custody of him herself. 

Leading to Dick being raised by Zatanna instead of Bruce, continuing to work as a performer alongside her but now her magician’s assistant instead of an acrobat - though he still kept up with his acrobatics thanks to Zee’s acrobat friends letting him train on their trapeze whenever he had the itch to fly again. Dick grows up learning escape artist tricks and all the misdirection and sleight of hand Bruce learned from magicians, but straight from the source this time rather than via Bruce.

And eventually, Dick - child prodigy that he is - discovers that Zatanna’s act is the equivalent of hiding in plain sight, the perfect misdirection to cover up that she is a real magician, a homo sapiens magi, born naturally gifted in the mystic arts and one of the most powerful sorceresses in the world. Dick might not ever have her natural aptitude for HER type of magic, but there are many kinds of magic in the world, and thanks to her work (both professional and as a reserve member of the Justice League and occasional superheroine herself). Zatanna knows all the best and most talented magicians and sorcerers in the world. And many of those, Dick CAN learn from.

All of which leads to him eventually sneaking out as a vigilante on his own, combining his acrobatics with things like knife throwing and flashy misdirection that disguises his actual conjurings and spellwork when in the midst of battle. His specialties are illusion magics, spells of disguise and manipulation of shadows, vanishing into smoke and conjuring temporary doubles out of mirrors, etc. Just enough of what he does isn’t real that villains never see it coming when he conjures a real fireball right after they’d identified enough of the previous ones as harmless illusions and thought it was safe to stop dodging. Instead of it being just about raw power, he builds upon his ability to craft and sell an act. 

Eventually he forms the Teen Titans with other sidekicks like Wonder Girl, Speedy, Kid Flash and Aqualad...as well as Barbara Gordon aka Batgirl, protégé of the Batman. Even his best friends couldn’t say how much he’s actually capable of - though with them, its not because he doesn’t trust them though, merely because he’s a troll. He always dismisses any talk of him being a sorcerer or calling what he does magic. Instead he just grins and winks and says he knows a few tricks, is all. What he considers ‘a few’ or how far he stretches the definition of ‘a trick’, well, that’s anyone’s guess.  His entire hero career and reputation spins out of the fact that he COULD be one of the more powerful sorcerers to walk the earth....or he could simply be a great actor who makes the most out of a relative handful of lesser spells within his capabilities. Even his own teachers can’t say for sure. Every time someone thinks they’ve got his range figured out, he mischievously pulls out a new spell his previous shows of power have never hinted he’d be capable of, just to keep people guessing. 

And maybe Zatanna and Dick are back performing in Gotham one winter, and Dick’s off visiting Batgirl while they’re in town, and Zatanna takes a stroll through town and passes through Crime Alley. No particular reason, its just an expedient route and she hardly is someone to take its reputation as a reason she of all people should be concerned.

Which is when a homeless street kid named Jason Todd tries to pick her pocket. Naturally, it doesn’t exactly work out for him, given who she is, but Zatanna Zatara is one to appreciate the irony of someone trying to pick HER pocket...as well as impressed at how close he comes to actually managing it. She takes him to a diner to feed him, coaxes enough of his story from him to figure out he has no one to look out for him and will never trust Gotham’s foster system (not that she’d blame him, given what she saw of it when she first took custody of Dick and had doubts about whether she was doing the right thing for him)...and figuring since it worked out well for her the first time she went down this road, offers Jason a fresh start elsewhere with her and Dick.

It isn’t long before Jason’s intellect and skilled hands prove equally effective at sleight of hand and magician’s tricks, as well as an eager student for every bit of actual magic his new big brother shares, along with what he learns from the teachers Zee and Dick both introduce him to. Over time, he gravitates towards different tutors specialties than Dick though. Illusions and mindgames, smoke and mirrors...that fits Dick’s natural showmanship and performer’s nature, but its not Jason’s style. Oh, he can bluff the hell out of anyone, never play poker with him, and his natural bravado easily translates into working a crowd and playing a stage alongside Zee and Dick when working. Its just not his preference is all. 

No, he goes more for practical magic, straightforward approaches to achieving his intended results. Cut out the bullshit. Spells of primal force or elemental magicks, charms and runes of strength, healing and protection to augment his capabilities when he wades into a fight fists first and just starts brawling. He’s not afraid to summon a demon or two and make a bargain to achieve his ends - he’s even got the names of a couple inked into his skin as tattoos, a summoning shortcut that lets him call on his personal faves in a moment of desperation. Even demons have trouble circumventing a summoning or breaking free of its parameters when those things are etched permanently onto his body. 

Dick does tend to have a few elemental spirits always nearby and easily summoned without much notice or prep time, but Dick being Dick, in his case its just because he made friends with them. There’s a couple of wind sprites always hanging around on the off-chance he gets into a fight and might need their help. They find such instances to be extremely fun and exciting, and also they’ve adopted the fun little bird human who flies as a kindred spirit.

In contrast, Jason comes home one day and Zatanna catches him trying to change the coverings on a new tattoo without her noticing. She's not mad because he's fifteen and not supposed to be getting tattoos. She's not exactly thrilled about that either, but no, of greater concern to her is the fact that the tattoo is a name written in a long dead alphabet. A name she recognizes as that of a primordial demon she was extremely clear about being one of those forces beyond her teenage son's ken, and which he most certainly was not supposed to be messing around with.

Jason's expression tightens mulishly and Zatanna longs for the days when that was just purple prose she read in books sometimes while wondering vaguely how that even worked and what that actually looked like.

"Dick said I had to," her younger son says. He folds his arms across his chest defiantly. Zatanna closes her eyes and counts to five.

"I did not!" her older son yells right on schedule. The air shimmers like heat waves rising off pavement on a hot summer day and Dick drops the cloaking spell he's been using to eavesdrop. She's not sure why he even bothered with the thing; they both knew he was there the whole time. Not because his spell hadn't been text book perfect and beyond even her ability to pierce mystically, but because Dick tended to forget all the magic in the world can't keep predictable behavior from being predicted.

"You literally said Jason, you gotta do the thing," Jason insists, doubling down. Dick's arms flail like an anthropomorphic windmill tripping on shrooms.

"No, I literally said Jason, don't do the thing," Dick shrieks, cartoonishly outraged. Zatanna fights back a small smile despite the situation. She's seen her eldest smoothly engage a minor deity in a verbal chess match as the fate of his fellow Teen Titans hung in the balance, all without once breaking a sweat. One blatant lie delivered straight to his face by his younger brother though, and he went zero to sixty in two point five seconds, skipping straight past the realization he was being played. Zee still had every intention of grounding her youngest for the next decade for being so dumb as to ink himself with a mystical tether to a demon that once ate an entire civilization - yes, ate - but that didn't mean she couldn't also be impressed at Jason's attempt at finessing himself out of this situation. He'd jumped straight to the only thing that had even had a prayer of distracting Zee from his teenage idiocy - Dick at Defcon Five. Now if only she could get him to apply that same level of forethought to things like oh, the possible longterm consequences of giving a supernatural Being of Mass Destruction a direct dial up connection to him....

Dick turns desperate eyes on her. "Seriously Mom, I swear. I said the actual words 'Jason NO.'"

"See?" Jason flings his arm at his brother in triumphant vindication. "Have you met me? Everyone knows that's code for 'Jason YES.'"

"Oh my god, I will curse you to rot the pages of every first edition you touch," Dick hisses dramatically. Jason pales briefly, but rallies.

"And really, how is this any different from when you slept with Batgirl and I said that was a really bad idea and its totally gonna end up biting you in the ass, and then you said that I shouldn't have told you to do it then?"

"That's completely different," Dick howls, reverting back to Windmill, Drunk In A Windstorm. "You said 'Don't be mad, but that new scrying spell I was trying accidentally locked on to Batgirl instead of Batman and I saw her walking home from school out of costume just for a second before I shut off the spell but spoiler alert, she doesn't wear a wig while in costume, she really is a redhead even with her cowl off, which means now you gotta sleep with her, like, we all know its gonna happen anyway now. PS its Barbara Gordon, that's the punchline, you're already obsessed with her, oh crap now you're gonna be insufferable huh.' Which by the way, I so am not. Jerk."

"Yes," Jason says slowly and with exaggerated patience. Zatanna's migraine builds and builds. "And then I said, 'Dick, no, stop, I was making a joke, you don't actually have to...' and you said 'No, but I gotta'. Your shirt was practically already off by the time I finished saying 'redhead.'"

"Well, duh! Of course it was! Have you met me?" Dick volleys back in what Zee really hopes is her eldest making a deliberate callback to her youngest's earlier crack, and not some bizarre teenage superstition that has him actually thinking nope nope those thoughts are in the Bad Place, Zatanna, its absolutely believable that Dick is actually still twelve and the boys are just using embellishing language to feel grown up. C'mon, if you try hard enough you can milk a good thirty more seconds of denial about your son's sex life, you're literally magic, you can do this.

The ludicrousness of it all is so effortlessly identical to his brother's idiocy just moments prior, Zatanna has a brief, uncharitable thought that the Graysons had a second child they gave up for adoption and nobody ever told either of the boys. She opens her mouth to put a stop to the nonsense, but what comes out:

"You slept with Bruce's protégé?"

Dick pauses mid-rant and fidgets uneasily. His eyes dart around the room as if expecting the Batman to appear, summoned by the power of his name. "Umm. Only a couple times?" he says slash asks, warily.

"On several different occasions," Jason adds gleefully. Zatanna rubs her temples and rounds on him before Dick can return fire.

"And you tried to scry Batman?"

"Umm," Jason stutters. Stops. Aims an accusing finger at his brother again. "Dick dared me to!"

"That's it! Curse coming right up," Dick snaps, fingers crooking into arcane gestures.

"Enough! Both of you!" Zatanna feels slightly guilty when both boys fall silent and hunch over, metaphorical tails between their legs. Even when they were being obnoxious, it was still weirdly charming in a way - eww, who even was she right now? Maternity was a mistake. Still, she couldn't find it in herself to bring down the full force of her ire when all they were doing really was being....ridiculous boys being ridiculous brothers. She sighs and contemplates telling them just to go to bed, they'd discuss it in the morning after she'd had time to cool off and think about it....decides god no, that risks all of this happening all over again. Splits the difference and calls it a night.

"Jason, you're grounded for a month for whatever you did to even get someone to give you a tattoo while under eighteen without parental approval. And you're grounded from any spells outside of lesson plans and homework assigned by one of your tutors until you can tell me in detail why I'm concerned your choice of tattoo was an absolutely terrible idea, and you can present me with no less than three different wards or counterspells that prepare for the possibility of that absolutely terrible idea becoming an absolutely terrible catastrophe. Not a word," she finishes sharply with a pointed finger, when he starts to protest. He sulkily subsides again.

"Dick, one word answers only, no explanations, excuses or qualifiers. You made sure Barbara knew exactly who you were and that you knew exactly who she was before you both....made it extremely awkward for me to look Bruce in the eye at the next Justice League meeting?"

"Yes," Dick says wincing.

"You used protection....each time on each different occasion?"

"Yes," her eldest says, examining the floor as if weighing the likelihood of it opening up and swallowing him whole.

"You're not being every gross stereotype of teenage boys as normalized by Hollywood, using or objectifying girls in the name of toxic masculinity - you actually have feelings for this girl?"

"Yes," he says firmly, meeting her eyes again. Zatanna nods, letting that linger as she absorbs both his sincerity and the passage of time. Where did the last decade and that little eight year old with the baby fat and chipmunk cheeks go? But then, this is good too, she decides, and she nods, satisfied. Course, a little embarrassment is good for the soul, she figures.

"You understand that the world is full of other smart, beautiful redheads you could have chosen to pursue with far less complications?"

"Be right back, have to go die now," Dick announces loudly, and Zatanna chuckles and takes pity on him. Jason's paler Irish skin goes red at the drop of a hat, but it takes a much higher level of mortal humiliation for Dick's darker skin to betray any kind of blush.

"Nothing to get all red in the face about, sweetheart," she says because look, her kids had to get it from somewhere. Jason cackles, doubling over with mirth and Zatanna makes her exit while her youngest is too busy being amused at his brother's expense to remember he's ticked about being grounded.

She lingers on the other side of the wall, drinking in the sound of Jason's laughter and Dick's sulking, long enough that she's still there to overhear when Dick silences his brother's entertainment:

"Saved your ass, you manipulative little shit. Don't think I didn't know what you were doing there. You owe me for playing along."

"Yeah, yeah, all hail Benevolent Big Brother Dick," Jason grumbles, but there's gratitude beneath the grumbling. Zatanna's eyes narrow as she reflects on how much lighter a sentence Jason ended up with, compared to what her first instincts had intended. Well, crap. Dick hadn't been the one oblivious to all the layers of that little episode at all, had he? That was annoyingly humbling. Still, Zatanna shakes her head at herself and goes to bed with a smile. She respects the art of the con too much to be upset her children learned more from her teachings than she'd realized.

Well played, boys.

The brothers' respective preferences in summonings aren't the only places they differ. Where Dick has a half a dozen spells of invisibility or intangibility on stand by in case he needs to sneak into a heavily fortified place, Jason stays stocked up with an equivalent number of spells capable of just blowing the front door off its hinges.Of course, Tim Drake being Tim Drake, his inclusion into their little family happens exactly as you’d expect.

He literally follows them home one day.

His neglectful absentee parents are archaeologists, after all. Spending more of their time away at dig sites than at home with him. When they are home though, they make a show of caring, take him out to the circus and to shows, parading him in public so everyone can see what a nice family they all are and how much they dote on their only child. So just like in canon, Tim’s there at the circus too, the night the Graysons are murdered. And in the years to follow, he’s at a number of the Zataras’ magic shows, and easily puts together that Dick and Jason are the two masked mystical teen superheroes that spend as much time doing flips and punching and kicking villains as they do weaving actual spells. 

And his parents, being the kind of archaeologists who grew up as rich bored white Gotham elites who picked archaeology as their field of study because its not like they actually needed to work and they’d watched Indiana Jones so often, they were like, yes, excellent, I will model my life adventures and career path after this movie and its depiction of archaeology....

Like, so clearly, they’re the dumbass kind of archaeologists who have no actual respect for the artifacts they dig up and just like how they look in their home or behind glass museum cases with plaques about who donated them.

Tim however, is not dumb, way better than his parents, and has a lot of free time and a hobby of researching EVERYTHING. So eventually he discovers the real origins of a lot of artifacts his parents have around the house, and determines that a) they really shouldn’t be here, and b) some of these have spiritual and even mystical reputations and power and are possibly very dangerous in the wrong hands or even just from being removed from their resting places or lands/cultures of origin, so they REALLY shouldn’t be here.

So the next time the Zataras’ magic show comes to Gotham, he (carefully) stuffs his backpack full of as many as he can carry, and sneaks out to go watch the show. And then he follows them back to where they’re staying, introduces himself and says he knows who they are and could they please help him return all these artifacts to where they belong and also hurry because some of them might blow up the world if they’re gone too much longer and that’s not WHY he wants to return them, like they should just because its the right thing to do, but he thought he should mention it because it seems like its an important factor. He’d do it himself, but he’s not allowed to go on a plane by himself, but he did write apology notes to go with each artifact for taking them without asking, and also could he have their autographs?

Dick blinks cartoonishly large eyes, sweeps the ten year old off his feet into a giant hug and announces, “We’re keeping him.”

Zatanna tries to do this in an orderly fashion, of course. “Tim, where are your parents? Do they know you’re here?”

Dick sniffs. “Irrelevant. We’re keeping him. Look how adorable he is, is there really anyone who could possibly appreciate his adorableness more than us? No. Ergo. We’re keeping him.”

Jason rolls his eyes. “He’s not a pet, asshole. And adorableness isn’t a word, stop making up words, I will punch you I swear. But also yeah, we’re keeping him.”

Tim’s heart is having a full on meltdown at the thought that two of his heroes want him to stay, but he’s a Drake and Drakes are very big on Proper and protocols and decorum, and he’s pretty sure this isn’t how things work. “I’m not actually supposed to be out by myself, so I definitely should be home before nine cuz that’s my bedtime...”

Dick takes him into his bedroom, drops him on his bed and says: “There you go. You’re in bed and its not even eight o’clock yet. Problem solved.”

“...I think it only counts if I’m in bed in my bed?”

Dick snaps his fingers and the headboard is mystically inscribed with “Tim” in a flourish of colorful sparks. “See? Its your bed now, it has your name on it and everything. This can be your new room and I’ll bunk with Jay. We can’t have you share a room with him, he snores and you’re too adorable to inflict that on. Growing boys need at least eight hours of RESTFUL sleep.”

Tim chews his lip. He’s not entirely sure the older boy’s logic is sound, but when laid out in that fashion, it doesn’t sound completely unreasonable, right? He makes one last token attempt to get up. Jason sits on him. Gently, but still.

“Oh no, we’re holding him against his will. We’ve officially kidnapped him at this point,” Jason says cheerfully. “Mom, you better go find his parents and tell them their son is missing and being held hostage and won’t be released until they can explain to the police why their son’s kidnappers had to notify them that their son was missing and had wandered all the way through Gotham at night alone.”

Tim protests. “Its not a big deal. I do that all the time!”

Jason and Dick look at him. Look at each other. Look at Zatanna. Arch their eyebrows expectantly.

Zatanna sighs. As ridiculous as her boys are being, this has played out about how she expected it would the second she realized the ten year old was completely on his own and used to it. And let’s face it. They’re only like this because she’s like this. She regrets everything except also she regrets nothing. Not that she’ll tell them that right now. They both look a little too smug in her opinion. Let ‘em sweat for at least a few hours. “I’ll go see what the situation is and figure out what to do next. Stay here and don’t let him eat too much sugar. And if you watch TV, nothing R-rated.”

Dick rolls his eyes. “We know. We’re not gonna scar the kid in like, the few hours you’re gone.”

“You made your brother watch The Babadook when he was eleven.”

“Well that’s different. He was being an ass. Timmy’s being adorable. Completely unrelated situations,” Dick says in the tone of someone who thinks they’re being reasonable. Jason scowls.

“Wow, are you seriously victim blaming me for the nightmares I got from that shit? Way to make fun of my psychological trauma, asshole.”

“Hey, I didn’t MAKE you watch that movie. I TOLD you to go to bed.” Dick idly examines his nails. "You’re the one who said you were too old to have a bed time and you could stay up as late as I could and anything I could watch you could watch too.”

“Oh please. That’s basic reverse psychology. You knew exactly what you were doing.”

“But Jay-jay, I thought you were too smart to ever fall for my tricks the way all my dumbass friends always do! Are you saying that’s not true? Did I actually manipulate my brilliant little brother who has always been much too clever and much too observant to ever be tricked into doing exactly what I wanted him to do? Is that what you’re saying?”

“Hey good news, Tim, neither of us will have to share a room after I murder this assface in his sleep.”

“Don’t worry Timmy, that’s just Jason for I love you.”

Zatanna sighs again and leaves before they can see her grinning. She enables their antics far too much as it is.

Within a week, the Zataras officially have custody of Timothy Jackson Drake. The boys are pretty sure that’s way too quickly for it to have happened legally, and there might have been a spell or two speeding up the process. But they don’t actually care, so. Yeah.

Unlike his brothers, Tim is the only one to fully embrace the titles of magician or sorcerer. His mind is his strength, research is his specialty, and its just inefficient in his opinion to waste time with acrobatics and brawling that comes naturally to them but would need to be acquired skills for him. Instead he just devotes all his learning to the mystic arts, learning from teachers of all kinds of specialties, but also just as much from his research of old texts and his theorizing on the natures of various forms of magic and how they interact. He happily spends hours poring over a dozen different translations and scribbling notes as he goes, distilling complex rituals into new forms that allow for the substitution of more commonplace ingredients and thus greatly widen the scope of his repertoire. He has a talent for doing all the legwork on a dozen different spells of incredible complexity and then leaving them ‘hanging’, with just the last bits incomplete, easily stored in his eidetic memory for him to call upon and trigger in mere moments as he finishes the last bit of any given spell with just a few words, thus doing in the heat of battle what other sorcerers would require hours to replicate.

All three end up gravitating to different superhero teams as they grow older, but all of them have their reputations with the hero community at large. Its generally expected that if you have a problem that needs a magical solution, and you’ve got enough time for preparation and planning - you call Tim. If you need to blow shit up and in a hurry - you call Jason. And if you’re just plain fucked and need a Hail Mary - you call Dick.

You’re usually gonna get all three anyway though, so whatever.

At some point when Tim's around fifteen or so himself, the Court of Owls ends up trying to get their Talons on Dick, because they suck and are terrible and entitled and their only real possible value comes from being a wasted potential metaphor for how often everyone seems to have their own ideas or expectations for what Dick should be doing or saying or feeling at any given time, with most of the things others get pissed about him for in the comics essentially boiling down to Dick doing or saying or feeling things that don't match up to their expectations or presumptions, and that people wouldn't bat an eye about anyone else doing or saying or feeling, its just Dick's supposed to be different, he's doing (x) wrong, ugh he can't even be traumatized properly without him usually ending up apologizing to other people for the fact that he was the one who was just screwed over, weird, its almost like these things are connected. I mean whoops, this is story time, not meta about all the thoughts and feels I, the dastardly fourth wall breaking narrator, have whilst butthurt on behalf of Dick. My badness.

Ahem.

Yes, when last we left our intrepid heroes, rich entitled bastards with a pervy penchant for nursery rhymes and child assassins had set their sights on claiming Dick and turning him into their mindless zombie bird-themed killing machine.

In all fairness, they did lead with the extremely persuasive argument of 'look we totally called dibs before he was even born, so.....step off??'

Then they kidnapped him and attempted to turn him into their mindless zombie bird-themed killing machine.

Compelling argument though that may be, Dick's brothers are not impressed. They are, however, magical, hyper-competent and extremely petty slash vindictive.

All of which is to say, Tim turns the Court into a bunch of actual owls. And then Jason summons a giant murderous hawk-demon from another dimension that eats all the owls.

And then they wait for Dick to wake up from all the drugs the Court pumped him full of in preparation for The Ritual of Zombie Assassin Making. And Tim just has to ruin it, that asshole.

"You know, hawks aren't naturally the enemies of owls," Tim says out of nowhere. Well. Not out of nowhere so much as out of concern, because Tim's natural physiological response to being worried is to get pedantic.

"What," says Jason flatly. Which is his natural physiological response to Tim being. Y'know. Tim.

Tim shrugs, his eyes intent on their older brother, who is still making like Sleeping Beauty and sooooo gonna get razzed by them for that later, once the Worry and Anxiety have all exited stage right. "It just felt like you were going for a theme. Which is fine, I'm just saying, owls don't actually have natural predators. One might occasionally get killed by a hawk, but usually that's more of a territorial dispute and still pretty much an outlier in terms of statistics."

"Why would you even say that to me right now," says Jason flatly. Not asking, because its a rhetorical question and he's currently glaring the answer to it straight at Tim's back, and that answer is ugh you are such an annoying little shit sometimes.

Which is why when Dick groggily starts to come to, he's greeted by a soundtrack of:

"God, I'm so sorry, I'm just the worst for giving you information that you didn't know before, since clearly if you had you wouldn't have gone with a hawk!"

"Well what the fuck should I have gone with, a demonic taxidermist? Like excuse me for being in such a rush to heap vengeance on the pretentious shits who kidnapped our brother, I didn't have time to go to wikipedia and figure out the most appropriate dramatic irony!"

"First off, why would you ever go to wikipedia as a source, we have literally had this exact argument several dozen times - "

"First off, are you seriously giving me bullet points right now. Seriously. Bullet points. Right now. That's a thing that's happening."

"You are such an infant. How are you older than me? I make one little critique and you bite my freaking head off - "

"What's happening?" Dick croaks out into one of the few synchronized pauses for breath. "Where are we?"

"The secret underground lair of an evil society of ornithologists who kidnapped you because your milkshake brings all the weirdos to the yard," Jason says crankily, still glaring at Tim.

Not that fuzzy, barely conscious but always guilt-prone Dick could possibly know that its not actually him Jason's ticked at. Tim face palms at his middle brother because what are bedside manners, clearly.

"A bird-themed cult calling themselves the Court of Owls pre-selected you to be turned into the general of their elite zombie assassin army," Tim recites quickly, predicting Dick's likely request for further information.

"Well that's rude," Dick frowns. He cracks open one eye experimentally, winces when even the dim lighting is enough to give his pounding headache a booster shot. Tries the other eye. Nope. Both eyes are in agreement. Light is the enemy of all that is good right now. Ugh. Definitely rude. He likes light. How dare someone incite this unforgivable betrayal from his BFF, light? "I don't think I care for their recruitment strategy. Although at least they wanted me to be the Boss Zombie Assassin I guess."

"Yes," Tim replies dolefully. "That does appear to be the silver lining here."

Despite their antagonism of thirty seconds ago, Jason snickers. They're nuanced like that.

"Well his usual priorities seem to be in place, so I think its safe to say we got to him before they could do any actual brainwashing," Jason says. "All in favor of blowing this popsicle stand?"

"Wait, there are popsicles?"

"No, there aren't popsicles in the evil cult's secret underground murder lair. Its a figure of speech, dumbass."

"Hey," Dick pouts. He coughs once, weakly, but Jason's eyes narrow in sudden suspicion of Milking It Syndrome. "Be nice to me. I was just kidnapped and almost made an Elite Zombie Assassin Boss and my head hurts and is all fuzzy and you know how I feel about popsicles. You shouldn't joke about them if you don't have any, that's just mean. But uh, should we be rushing? If the bad guys are coming back soon I do vote for the not being here option, like, just in case turning me into the Zombie Apocalypse is still on the evil cult agenda."

He would manage to latch onto the Elite and Boss part of that info dump, wouldn't he, Jason muses. What's the timeline for how long you have to express sympathy for your almost-brainwashed brother before you can yell at him for being insufferable about it? Is half an hour long enough?

"No, its fine," Tim assures their brother. "We uh....were slightly miffed about the whole kidnapping you thing, and so we were.....efficient? I guess you could say? About making sure they wouldn't do it again. I turned them all into owls."

"And then I summoned a hawk demon that ate them. You're welcome," Jason adds, not about to be left out. Even if he's going to have words later about being characterized as 'miffed.' The walking almanac knows more words in more languages than anyone in human history, pretty much, and he goes with miffed. The fuck, Timmy. The actual fuck.

"Aww, you guys, that's so sweet." Dick beams at them. Albeit at somewhat lower than his usual wattage. Then his forehead wrinkles slightly in confusion. "Why a hawk demon? Do owls not like hawks or something?"

Tim smirks at Jason viciously.

"I hate you with the searing intensity of a thousand suns," Jason tells his brat of a younger brother. "Also, gonorrhea."

Zatanna then teleports into the middle of the room with a flash of light and a hurried rush to the side of her lying-on-the-ground, suddenly flailing eldest son.

"Gah, evil light is evil! Curse your betrayal!" Dick wails dramatically, flinging an arm across his face despite the visible effort movement is still taking. Because he really is just that invested in keeping his Melodrama Game on point, willing to play through the pain if necessary. Jason rolls his eyes. If nothing else, he can at least respect his older brother's ability to commit.

"What happened here?" Zatanna wastes no time before asking, even as she begins running her hands lightly over Dick and muttering chants to divine for unseen injuries or influencing substances. Tim catches her up to speed with another dry recitation of the day's events. It doesn't sound any less ridiculous the second time around.

"And you two decided to just rush right into the heart of a criminal organization's secret headquarters with no plan, no way of knowing what you were jumping headfirst into and no back up?" Zatanna snaps out in a biting tone that's 70% Frantic Motherly OMG I Could've Lost All Three Of You I Don't Know What I Would've Done and 30% How Are You Seriously This Dumb, No, I Really Want To Know, You Boys Share Zero Genetics So It Can't Possibly Be Mutually Inherited Dumbness And Yet Here You All Are Being This Dumb, How, Why, I Strenuously Object.

At least, Jason's pretty sure its 70/30.

Eh. Maybe 60/40.

He looks at Tim and they both shrug. "We left a note," Jason offers lamely.

Their mightily miffed mother - and Jason totally gets it now, good call on that one actually, Timbo, Miffed can totally be intimidating, turns out - is not even slightly appeased.

"Yes, I did see your note," Zatanna says, slow and dangerous, an ominous cold front that's frosty enough to reverse global warming. Jason shivers. "The one that read 'Dick kidnapped by crazy bird freaks. Went to go get him. Somewhere in Gotham's sewers. Ugh why is it always sewers, I fucking hate sewers. Be back later. Love, Jason and Tim.' That note?"

Jason's honestly not sure what the problem is. All the relevant information was there. Tim glares at him.

"I knew I should have written the note," he hisses like an angry cat. Jason rolls his eyes again, because really, what other weapon does he have against his brothers' Drama?

"We had time for me to write a note, Tim. We didn't have time for you to write an essay with fully annotated footnotes all properly accredited according to MLA approved guidelines."

"I can be brief!"

"Name one time that you have ever been brief about anything. Ever."

Tim hesitates.

"Just because I can't think of anything right this second doesn't mean it didn't happen! You're just putting me on the spot," he sulks.

"Whatever. I'm not going to apologize for being in a rush. We had an older brother to save from evil brainwashing birdwatchers, remember? Would everyone prefer we took our sweet time and got here and found Zombie Dick instead?"

Tim wilts. Their mother thaws. Jason savors the moment. He so rarely gets to enjoy the moral high ground. Its nice, really. He can kinda see the appeal from up here, actually.

"That's Elite General Zombie Dick to you, peon," Dick chooses that moment to interject. Jason inhales through his nose. Five seconds. Five whole seconds that lasted.

"Seriously?" He asks his older brother. Dick blinks innocently.

"I am very traumatized by my near undeath experience," he explains. "That's just my coping mechanism."

Jason's eye twitches.

Later still, Jason somehow winds up getting into it with the Joker of all people, in Ethiopia of all places. Seriously, what, he still doesn't understand how or why any of that happened. His life, man. So fucking random.

But that's a story for another day. It doesn't end all that badly, all things considered, not nearly as bad as it could've. The moral of the story is essentially that six out of seven days, Jason is still the brother best avoided in dark alleys, but on the seventh day....Dick and Timmy are perhaps best avoided as well.

And later still, some jackass with a Wizard of Oz fetish decides that Tim-napping isn't just the worst colossally bad fucking idea any misfiring synapses have ever conceived. In this AU though, we stan brothers who check, double check and triple check before calling a time of death, because like the saying goes, fool us once, shame on you, fool us thirty seven times in just any single given decade, then yeah, that's probably on us at that point....

But non-brother approved Tim Tormenting is highly frowned upon in this universe, so Dick and Jason make like the Brothers Grimm, sharpen their spells and go questing down a literal yellow brick road that Dick conjures to lead them straight to the mysterious Mister Oz. And one of these days, Jason would really like to know where Dick gets some of his spells, he really would. Because. Yeah. Never mind, that's best unpacked another day, he figures.

Truthfully, that's all a story for another day as well, as Dick and Jason and Tim probably need to compare notes first and clear up a few things among themselves. None of them are entirely sure they even get what all of that was even about at all. It all seemed very strange and unnecessary, the standard villain monologues were a lot less explanatory than usual, nobody ever really satisfactorily explained Why You So Creepily Interested In Our Baby Bro, Bee Tee Dubs, and the deeper down the rabbit hole they all went, the more every reveal seemed to lead to an increasingly smaller Russian nesting doll hidden inside in the previous one.

And maybe the bad guy was Superman's dead dad from Krypton, which...okay, weird, whatever. And maybe he was just a patsy and the real monster all along was this giant glowing blue guy who seemed to have every power imaginable except for the power to put on a freaking pair of pants? I mean, everyone needs a gimmick, I guess. And then behind that funhouse mirror they found maybe the real villain all along was some rando in a toga who called himself Ozymandias and claimed to have been a hero, and nope, nuh uh, Jason isn't buying that for a second, he says you named yourself in reference to a line that literally says Look Upon My Works O Ye Mighty And Despair and you're saying everyone just went yup, that checks out, we've got ourselves a hero here, pure intentions through and through? Nope, sorry, not buying it.

And Ozy's face got as purple as the costume that would've gotten him in the door to any frat party but not much else, and honestly, as much as it flaps in a firm breeze its not even a step up from Dr. Moons Over Manhattan's permanent residency at a nude ranch he takes with him everywhere he goes, more of a lateral move really....

And he opened his mouth to say something suitably villainous and to do something no doubt dastardly, but that's when Dick cut him off with a yawn and a "Oh my god I have never been this bored in my life, I honestly don't care. Literally nobody asked." And he conjured up his yellow brick road again, told them he had no idea which of them needed the brain, which the heart and which the courage, but like...discuss among yourselves, and then he and Jason punted all three losers off to see the Wizard except Dick shrugged after shutting down the spell and said that guy died, like, five years ago. Its just no one else there has figured that out yet. Whoops. Oh well.

Look, its as clear and understandable a resolution to that particular adventure as anyone else might have doled out over an unnecessarily padded number of weeks until the patience of everyone involved was stretched well past the point of reason, so....whatever. That's what happened, the end.

And then Jason blows some shit up until he feels better about how obnoxiously pointless all that was and there's lots of yelling about worst bad guys ever, is there no vetting process anymore, are the inmates running the asylum, has the whole universe gone mad. Which somehow segues into Tim yelling about is Jason seriously upstaging him at his own Dramatic Rescue, how is this about him, oh my god, can't I even get five whole minutes to angst without you carjacking the family Waah-mobile.

Meanwhile Dick leans back contentedly against the one wall still standing as a convenient backdrop, and watches the baby bros go. And Mom says they don't have any family traditions.

He actually really enjoys these moments. At least the ones where nobody's yelling at him.

But again, as I said....really all that's a tale for another day. On this day, what remains of significance is the universal truism that no matter the universe, the timeline, the place or the time or the people.....

If there be a Bruce, then that Bruce is gonna Bruce.

And we all know what that looks like.

That is to say:

Meanwhile, back in Gotham, events unfold in strangely familiar ways. Even if some of their usual players are currently preoccupied sojourning their way back across the dimensions before they're late for dinner and Momma Zatara has their heads. Adopted though her kids may be, Zatanna is still an Italian mother. And you do not fuck with an Italian mother's family dinner plans.

That's how people die.

But fractionally less dramatically than Zatanna sits awaiting her boys' late arrival to dinner with a A Damn Good Explanation For That If They Know What’s Good For Them, Bruce meets Cassandra Cain and rescues her from her father.

He’s still Bruce Wayne, even if events played out differently for his first three canon kids. So he does what any Bruce would do and adopts her.

And then Cass brings Stephanie home and says she’s a runaway and her dad was a villain and well, what’s Bruce gonna do, not adopt her? Don't be absurd.

And then Talia shows up on Bruce’s doorstep and shoves a ten year old Damian at him and says "Congratulations, its a boy. Please take care of him while I go and try and kill my father and sister without getting killed by them first. I’m not sure how long that will take but my father has managed to last six centuries despite countless betrayals so I suspect it might be awhile."

I imagine these events all happen roughly in the span of a month, because there is no such thing as a world where Bruce knows how to pace himself.

There’s also no such thing as a world where Bruce knows how to gracefully ask for help. But even at his most stubborn he’s capable of recognizing when things fall outside his skillset and his best move is to seek advice from experts in fields outside his expertise. Like parenting.

And his old friend Zatanna has raised three boys who are well loved and respected by the entire hero community, so she must know what she’s doing. Yes, absolutely, his frazzled mind decides. Zatanna will have all the answers. His logic is sound. He's double checked his math and everything. Yes, he has equations for this sort of thing. No, they're not scientifically or empirically accurate, but just because one has arbitrarily assigned numeric values to various events, decisions and possible outcomes in order to justify to oneself that one's intended course of action is Endorsed By Data and Scientifically Derived Conclusions, like....that doesn't mean those values are all arbitrary and the conclusions and data that derive from them are fictitious and meaningless.

Shhh, shhh, don't question that last sentence, just nod and smile and accept that you're just not quite brilliant enough to understand the genius that is Brucenometry, and that's totally understandable and the real reason Bruce hasn't shared the math system he invented with the rest of the world. We just wouldn't get it, you see?

(And yes, he absolutely calls it Brucenometry in his head, because despite what the Batmen of other universes would have us believe, all the eight year old incarnations of Dick Grayson are naught but a scapegoat for the emotionally stunted manchild who absolutely devised the labeling system of 'what if I put Bat in front of every word tho and that's how you knew it was mine, yes, good, this is obviously the most logical and efficient taxonomy possible, its practically the Occam's Bat-Razor of nomenclatures, huzzah I am the smartest in all the land, eat my Batshit I mean guano I mean crazy I mean shut up no you're dumb.' And if you don't think Bruce sounds like that in his head you're just drinking the Kool-Aid, dear reader. Pick up any issue where Bruce is having an emotional fight with someone and skip to where he insists on having the last word before sweeping dramatically into the darkness, and substitute that last word with 'nuh uh, your face'. It reads practically the same, I swear.

Anyway, thus Brucenometry is only Brucenometry instead of Batnometry because he came up with the math first. The math is literally how he calculated that combining crime fighting with his fursona was by far the most expedient route for building a better, brighter Gotham? Duh? Like if you don't get it, he really can't explain it any more clearly than that, and this is possibly one of the reasons he doesn't let the Martian Manhunter in his head. Well, that and all the equally Scientific Ponderings on how accurate a label 'Buns of Steel' is for Superman's butt, and how might this best be tested. Y'know. For Science.)

It's possible I've gotten off track here. I blame Bruce. Bruce blames Clark's ass. Its this whole thing.

Ahem.

So Bruce decides Zatanna has all the answers to all his questions, clearly. Because you see, Bruce knows practically everything that's worth knowing, so anyone who knows something Bruce doesn't already know, ergo, ipso facto, must therefor in conclusion be smarter than Bruce. And if they're smarter than Bruce, as smart as Bruce already is and knowing as much as Bruce already knows, well then, they must know literally everything.

Bam. You've just been Bat Logic-ed.

Bruce sends a message. He waits. He's expecting something along the lines of a call back, but one minute he blinks and the next minute Zatanna's in the middle of the disaster his new brood of three have made of his living room, hands on her hips, shaking her head as she looks around.

“What did you do?” She asks, exasperatedly.

He really doesn't understand why so many people take that particular tone with him. All of his choices are excellent and backed by Brucenometry. He can show his work and everything.

Bruce would respond, but he’s distracted by the three unknown variables. He admittedly had not expected her to bring all three of her boys along with her. Then again, they're magicians and magic always messes up his calculations. Its the worst. Stupid magic. He keeps himself from glaring at the teenager, practically still a teenager, and fully grown man chugging down a Pixie stick while playing what sounds like Candy Crush on his phone with his free hand.

Zee just shakes her head at him when Bruce tries to turn her question back on her with a pointed look.

“They were with me when I got your message and they wanted to come. Given how non-informative and vague the information you gave me was, it seemed plausible they might have a helpful perspective. Don’t change the subject. What did you do.”

“In all fairness, I should clarify that we were mostly just bored,” Tim says dryly.

“Also, this sounded amazing,” Jason adds, smirking.

Dick bounces up and down. “I’m very excited to be here for this! By the way, what is this, what's happening, what's going on? I was not totally paying complete attention, maybe. Oooh, does this place have an indoor pool? I bet it has an indoor pool. God, I love how completely unnecessary old rich people houses are, its amazing.”

That’s when a ten year old mini-Bruce wanders in, parentage apparent in every premature scowl line on his face. “Father, who are these people?”

Dick emits a gleeful sound that lends credence to his spirit friends’ theory he’s not entirely human and just appears right next to Damian, sweeping him up into a hug. His brothers blink, unsure if he had a teleport spell they didn’t know about, or if his natural ability to seek out anyone in need of a hug like a heat-seeking missile could actually allow him to move faster than the eye can see. Could go either way, to be honest.

“Oh my god, he’s like a tiny baby bat, he’s adorable,” Dick says, words rushing out at a speed normally achievable only by speedsters.

Damian has frozen at the unexpectedness of his behavior, but the outrage swiftly sets in. “What did you just call me?”

“A tiny baby bat!”

“Not that, the other thing.”

“Adorable!”

“How dare you!” The ten year old produces a knife from somewhere and attempts a stabbing that results in said knife being transmuted into a Twizzler. Dick twists in that unnatural way only his body is capable of and somehow mid-hug still manages to eat the Twizzler, because why not, apparently.

“I’m keeping him,” Dick declares, right on schedule. "He is my new brother and also now my weekend favorite, sorry not sorry. Jason is now my Monday and Friday favorite and Timmy is my Tuesday and Thursday favorite. Wednesdays can be my me time."

"But Dick," Tim deadpans in a lifeless monotone, now absorbed in doing something with his own phone. "How can I not be your Wednesday favorite? On Wednesdays we wear pink."

Jason rocks back on his heels, rolls his head back on his neck and stares up at the room's high, vaulted ceiling despairingly. "I hate that I get that reference. I hate that so much. I just don't know if I hate Tim for saying it, Dick for being the reason he said it, or me for hearing it and getting it. Quick, somebody tell me who to punch, I can't make this decision, its too hard."

Zatanna pinches the bridge of her nose and exhales. Cass and Steph lurk in the doorway and stare at the scene, bemused. Bruce is statue still. It’s possible his complete inability to process anything that’s happening right now has computer-crashed his every system. See kids, this is what comes of spending too much time trying to emulate a robot. Don't do drugs. Stay in school. Emote.

“Dick, I know that worked out for you the last two times you tried that, but its not going to fly here. This child actually has an emotionally invested parent capable of providing for him, and I don’t believe the Batman is likely to relinquish his claim without a fight,” Zatanna says, her exasperation now redirected at her eldest.

Dick remains unphased; merely diverts his attention from Damian to the boy’s father, raking his eyes up and down Bruce as the older man reenacts the pose of Rodin's lesser known work: The Oh God, What Was I Thinking.

He sniffs. Once. Pointedly unimpressed. “I am willing to work out a shared custody agreement,” Dick says regally.

Bruce gradually twitches his way back into the realm of actual human activity and motion.

“What?” He shakes himself all over, a bit like a dog. Then he seems to reboot his higher cognitive functions as he draws up to his full height and towers over the younger man. “I’m not sure what you think you’re playing at here, but this is not why I called your mother and I do not need some boy barely out of his teens to tell me -"

Dick cuts him off, rolling his eyes even as Bruce, Steph, Cass and Alfred’s eyes all widen at the sheer novelty of that. Even Damian goes silent and still, no longer fighting Dick’s octopus like limbs as he’s too busy flicking his attention back and forth between Dick and Bruce like he’s a spectator at a tennis match, watching it unfold.

Jason and Tim just smirk knowingly. Zatanna regrets everything.

“Yes, yes, we’re aware the Batman has a million contingency plans for any given scenario. We’re all very impressed. Your IQ is huge,” Dick says flatly. “Quick question though, how many of those contingency plans involve hugging?”

Bruce blinks. “What?”

“That’s what I thought,” Dick continues smugly. “Now, in your history as a crime fighter and a benefactor of numerous children’s charities, do you dispute that all children at certain times need to be hugged?”

“No?” Bruce answers uncertainly. He…has no precedence for this. What is happening right now.

“Mmm,” Dick hums, nodding. “And in your personal self-assessment and in light of all your established behavior to date, would you say with confidence that you are capable of always recognizing when a child is in need of a hug, as well as being able and willing to provide that child with said hug yourself?”

Bruce frowns. Everyone in the room takes that as a no. Seals in Antarctica look up and take that as a no, without any idea why they just did that or what it even is they just did. Also, what the hell is a no, they have no clue. They still somehow know the answer to that question was no.

“Exactly,” Dick says. “So, to sum up, we’ve established that your children need hugs, you need to be taught when and how to identify when your children need you to hug them, and until such a time as you’re capable of that, your children still need hugs. In conclusion, my services are direly needed and I am willing to teach you everything I know about providing adorable children with emotional support in exchange for the role of their designated Hug-Giver for the time being. Do you accept my offer?”

“I…” Still stuck on the unprecedented feeling of being at a total loss for words, Bruce is slow to answer. Not that it matters.

“Trick question!” Dick announces cheerfully. “There was no offer, its already been decided. I can start immediately. You're welcome.”

He shifts Damian to his hip with one arm and raises the other to offer the boy his hand for a shake. “Hi Damian, I’m Dick, I’m your official Hug-Giver for now. Nice to meet you!”

Damian shakes Dick’s hand, more out of confusion than anything else. Clearly, nothing in his training or experience offers him any obvious alternate response to Dick’s behavior. “Father, who is this man? What is happening? I don’t understand.”

“That makes two of us,” the goddamn Batman says helplessly. They can all see his face spasming, his muscles twitching as if periodically glitching while he tries to compute and come up with a course of action that adequately counters Dick’s….whatever the hell you describe Dick and his entire….essence, as.

Gods have tried and failed to accurately describe Dick and his whole….Dick-ness. The Batman never stood a chance.

Tim takes pity on him. He’s mostly preoccupied hacking the Manor’s wi-fi on his phone, trying to see if he can backdoor from there into the famed Batcave’s computers. No real reason, he’s just curious. But even barely paying attention, he can still tell the difference between Dick’s more generic ‘oooh a squirrel!’ ADHD reaction to all adorable children or animals in his general vicinity, and the genuine emotional attachment his brother has clearly already formed with the confused child assassin. It’s too late now. Whether he’s even realized it or not, Damian stopped trying to escape Dick’s hug practically from the word go, even if he is unconsciously using his confusion to blind himself to how he’s already started to sink into it. Not even Superman himself could pry the kid out of Dick’s arms at this point.

“You can try all you want to come up with ways to keep this from happening, but you’ll just be wasting your time and energy,” Tim advises, still intent on his phone. Two passwords down, nice. Only….ninety more to go? Jeez. Oh god, if he’s this redundant about his cyber security, he’s gonna try and be stubborn about this, isn’t he? Ugh, how inefficient.

“Look, no matter how many plans you come up with, it doesn’t matter what you throw at him or how convoluted or well-crafted it is. At a certain point Dick’s just going to say screw it and dig his heels in, and no offense, but I’ve seen him out-stubborn demons. He once got a Duke of Hell to release a claim on Jason’s soul by committing to “I know you are but what am I” until the ageless being composed of pettiness and spite got frustrated and gave up. My brother on a mission to dole out affection is an actual force of nature. Like hurricanes. Even Jason lets Dick hug him. And Jason hates everything.”

“Die screaming,” Jason says conversationally.

“See a therapist about your Cain complex,” Tim returns, equally pleasant.

“I thought I told you boys to be on your best behavior,” Zatanna says. Either exasperated again, or just still. Hard to say.

Jason cocks an eyebrow at her quizzically before looking around the room. “Umm, we are, aren’t we? I mean, we’ve been here for at least five minutes and nothing’s on fire or broken yet. You gotta admit that’s like, a record for us.”

Zatanna sputters helplessly for a moment before collapsing onto the couch with a sigh. “The bar is too low,” she mutters. "And don't think I didn't catch that bit about a Duke of Hell having a claim on Jason's soul at some point. We will be circling back to that later, at home."

"Dude," Jason hisses, glaring at his little brother. "Spoilers!"

"Sorry," Tim says distractedly, with a distinct lack of sincerity. "In my defense, we lie about a lot of stuff and I forget to keep track of it all."

"You have an eidetic memory."

"Okay, so I forget to care about keeping track of it all," Tim amends, shrugging.

"That's just because you never get in as much trouble as me and Dick. Helps to be the baby of the family," Jason grumbles.

Tim hums softly in agreement, tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth as he peers intently at his screen. "The perks are nice."

Zatanna interjects as she eyes her two younger sons, a slight edge in voice. "Exactly how much stuff am I being lied to about? Ballpark figure."

Jason glares at Tim again. "You're a goddamn menace."

"I should probably be stopped," Tim agrees.

“Nonsense!” Damian’s aggrieved voice cuts over everyone else in the room. “I am an al Ghul, and heir to the Batman. If this tournament you speak of were truly a contest of champions, I would certainly have heard of it before now.”

Dick returns his glower with his usual beaming grin. “I swear by every being of both the higher and lower planes to ever lend me power or aid. Super Mario Kart is a test of manual dexterity, hand-eye coordination and reflex agility. Any true warrior should be more than capable of defeating all competitors at it.”

Damian stays trained on his face for a good minute, searching it for any hint of deception. Finally he turns and sweeps his imperious gaze around the room, jumping back and forth between his father to Jason and Tim, though the latter is still absorbed tracking to crack the thirty-sixth password to the Batcomputer. “Is this true?”

“Technically yes,” Jason says with the smirk to end all smirks. Sometimes his older brother is a total toolbag, but sometimes it really is like watching a master at work. How to Lie Without Telling a Single Lie by Dick Grayson-Zatara.

Damian harrumphs like the eighty seven year old that he is at heart, but with a secondary affirmation and no one speaking up to offer a counter-claim, his pride seems to allow him no alternative to accepting Dick’s challenge.

“Very well,” he says grudgingly. “I will engage you in this competition of supers and carts. But when I inevitably prove victorious, as consequence for your failure you and your babbling are to be banished from my father’s estate, never to return.”

“K!” Dick grins. “But if I win, you have to initiate three hugs a day for a solid week straight, at which point you may challenge me to a rematch and reclaim your honor.”

“Preposterous! One hug a day. No more.”

“One hug a day, but after two weeks I can challenge you to a rematch at my home instead.”

“I shudder to think what you might consider an acceptable abode. No, if I must vanquish you twice before you realize the folly of challenging an al Ghul, you shall return here only for the purposes of engaging in this ‘rematch’, and only after two months have passed, so that you may reflect on the futility of such.”

“One month, final offer.”

“Tt. Your terms are acceptable,” Damian decides at last. Dick’s already brilliant smile grows impossibly more blinding, as it is wont to do. The whole defiance of physics thing he does so well. Unprepared for it, the startled boy blinks, corners of his mouth twitching ever so slightly upwards before he regains his normal stern countenance. “Now lead me to these carts at once. I wish to see you defeated before supper, so I do not have to suffer your presence through my meal.”

“You got it, lil D!” Dick chirps happily, bouncing through the doorway and down the hall, where Cass and Steph exchange glances that condense an entire conversation to thirty seconds of back and forth facial expressions. They then race down the hall after the two. Damian’s outrage drifts back behind them.

“My name is Damian al Ghul-Wayne, you buffoon! It is a name of power and significance, heavy with meaning and intent. How dare you reduce it to a simple reference to physical stature!”

“Aww, I’m sorry bud! It was meant as an endearment not an insult. I give nicknames to all my friends and family. What if I called you Dami? Is that better?”

“….I suppose if my full name is too difficult for you to manage, Dami is at least marginally more tolerable. But only if it is understood that we are hardly friends!”

“Whatever you say, Dami!”

Their voices fade into the distance after that. Jason puts his hands in his pockets and strolls casually after them.

“That was amazing. My faith in humanity has like....risen reborn from the ashes. I might even believe in Santa Claus again? Not sure yet about that last part," he muses to no one in particular. "I’m so happy right now.”

Tim shrugs and trails after him. If everyone else is going, well. No reason he can’t finish hacking the Batcomputer from wherever they end up.

Bruce watches them disappear down the hallway before staggering over to the couch and dropping down onto it next to Zatanna. He stares blankly at the wall.

“What.” He utters helplessly.

Zatanna pats his leg. “You get used to it. Eventually.”

And that’s how even when Dick’s adopted by Zatanna Zatara instead of Bruce Wayne, he, Jason, Tim, Damian, Cass, Steph and those to follow all still end up siblings in every way that matters.

[atomicfilm]

The case for (maybe) being an INTP:

- Overanalyzing

- I try to establish my own opinion before engaging in conversations with others to gain their perspectives. However, I will engage in these conversations, but this is apparently a shared trait btwn the INTP/ENTP.

- I debate one person consistently, we’ll call her M, and most other people will give up when they talk to me and/or agree with me. I don’t argue with people to change their opinions, which I think is the ENTP way of doing it, I argue because I find logical fallacies in their arguments and believe they’re incorrect. Which just so happens to be all the time. I think this is why I thought I played Devil’s Advocate, and because I was thinking about 1 occurrence, but ignoring that a lot of the time I will end a debate simply because I agree with them.

- I feel uncomfortable with directly offensive jokes and offensive humor. It takes a lot of continual anger for me to generalize a group of people and write them off. 

- I like to think I’m an optimist but I’m more of a pessimist to my own dismay. I think we’re gonna die because of climate change but I suppose nature’s way is better than mass genocide. When I debate I always prefer to take the negative/con side, which may suggest pessimism.

- I require someone to provide evidence to back up every statement of theirs and I do the same. If you don’t have this evidence then you had better find some or I will not listen to you until I’m satisfied with your sources.

- If I don’t know much about a topic then I will either say “I don’t know, do you want to look it up together” (usually option A) or stay silent. I’m too much of a perfectionist to say something too illogical that I won’t be able to correct later.

- But I also won’t agree with someone just to agree with someone because that’s the biggest piece of B.S. I’ve ever seen.

- I can spend all day googling random things instead of talking to people. And I mean all day.

- I prefer writing over talking any day. I famously like to say that I’m good at debate and terrible at speaking, refer to an earlier post of mine. I like to have the time to painstakingly process all of my ideas, weed out which ones I can’t support effectively, and then take a while to present my ideas. I teamed up with guy I really hate to pitch my film script ideas once because I’m not a good salesman.

- I think I can play the character of an ENTP really well. It’s not hard. It’s stereotypical vine material combined with a little intellectualism. One of my friends had said that I hadn’t done anything “crazy” in a few years and that I didn’t seem like myself, and my response to her was like “that’s not me, that’s a character”. It’s also the same as an INTP but more exaggerated. Now, I think ENTPs play lots of characters too generally, but I think I’m being very meta and playing an ENTP.

- A lot of people used to think that I partied hard/was a drug dealer but I mostly write and watch murder mysteries with my cat all day while contemplating the modern human’s relationship to early homo sapiens.

- I can be loud but that’s because I know how to put on a show, if that makes sense. I usually have a flair for the dramatics when I’ve decided I have a crush on them and it’s not a light one. With light crushes, I will ignore a person’s existence. The end. Otherwise, I can be silent as a mouse for months and the only person in the room who will know I’m smart will be the teacher/my bff/my mom/whoever. Likewise, the narcissism thing is totally fake. I don’t think I’m hot, I just say that because you’re supposed to believe it eventually and also because it’s some big societal upheaval for women to be confident.

- My default mode is accidentally flirty. Lots of sex jokes. Unless I like you, then any time you mention sex I will say “ew” or “cooties”. Apparently, I’m good at giving this look that says “hey stranger, come on over” but then I’ll scoot away because you’re a stranger and hello, personal space. I can be very friendly when I get over the fact that you’re a stranger talking to me though (but I had to develop this as a job skill). 

- I think I’m blunt and direct but I’m actually not usually directly blunt. For example, there was this guy at my school who kept sexually harassing me and to him, I just glared at him all the time and kept moving away from him because I didn’t want to start shit, but I told his best friend about it and was like “I hate the dude”. Dunno if this points towards being an ENTP or an INTP. I’m very blunt but not in a personal way, if that makes sense. I can be like “this is why I think that’s wrong” and openly criticize an idea, but I don’t openly criticize people I know.

- I’m not totally oblivious to other people’s feelings. I understand where they come from sorta. But I don’t really understand them themselves. If that makes sense. I can be like, oh she is hurt because I said this and now she has a lowered her eyelids. But then I’m like, okay, but I wouldn’t respond the same way emotionally so why did she? 

- I’m naturally basically a hobbit. I actually hang around a lot of very stable people (shoutout to ISFJ) and usually I leave behind friendships/relationships because they have upset this state of comfort by being toxic. I like to eat the same thing every time I go to a place, I like to do the same activities. But I like a little adventure, I like to have new conversations and try on different styles (but my go-to style is classic), I like to listen to new songs (but I have a soundtrack of songs I will sing over and over).

- I cannot handle authority. If you are an authority member and you raise your voice at me, I will cry, and those will be real tears.

- In middle school, people used to get mad at me for being afraid to do a lot of things like ziplining, so basically I force myself to go out of my comfort zone because I know that as much as I hate to do it and as much as I will procrastinate to do it, there’s a chance it will better my life. This could be where my ENTP character comes from. It could also be from being in theatre and imitating the average theatre kid. Either one.

- I hate stages. I hate them. I hate being in front of people. I hate talking to people a lot of the time. But I just do it anyway because it will hurt me if I don’t even if I’m about to throw up.

- I can be a loud person but I can also be extremely quiet. And when I observe people I usually think they’re being way too loud for my poor ears. 

- I’m not a true leader. I take a lot of leadership positions but really I’d prefer to be an individual but have recognized the need for a guide and no one else has taken it on. I also hate group projects. I have done 0 group projects (outside of AP Bio because I worked w/ my best friend who’s very capable) in the past three years of high school that I can remember. I don’t like carrying the deadweight of other people.

- I hate liars. I hate them. I hate them. I hate them. And they’re easy to spot. It’s my biggest pet peeve and I frequently say it when I’m judging someone’s character.

- Likewise, I’m very good at spotting psychopaths. My friends made a game out of this using their blocked-out forensics textbook. I think this is also an ENTP thing.

- Theoretically, I think I do think very similarly to an ENTP. For example, I can buy into existentialism, but I think there’s a basic starting point for morality that’s universal. I.E. murder is inherently bad. Slavery is inherently bad. Y’all can look at my older posts. An ENTP, however, really and truly does believe that a universal morality doesn’t exist and furthermore, that they don’t have an innate moral compass. This is one of the big red flags to me and part of the reason why I started looking into INTPs (I had initially been comparing myself w/ ENFPs but I ruled that out). I do immoral things, but I think these things are immoral and I feel guilt for them. I follow laws, but I don’t think laws are inherently moral and every once in a while you’ll come across a law that shouldn’t be followed because it infringes upon natural rights.

- Again, with reflecting on the past a lot of ENTPs don’t think their past is a concrete thing. And I logically agree with that. So many of our memories are made up and distorted, some people even steal other people’s memories and adopt them as their own. But I think of my past as a part of me all the same and I recognize that I’ve gathered as close to an objective understanding of it that I can.

- I think I naturally act like an INTP without any intense external stimuli. Which is to say, I’m an INTP and appear like one unless I feel like looking like an extrovert will aid me somehow.

- Every time I say I’m an extrovert to anyone they’re like “no, you’re definitely an introvert”. This was another red flag. I don’t put much value in other people’s perspectives of me typically but figuring out where I get energy from has been a long process. It turns out, I don’t get lasting energy from people or from being alone. I do get short-term energy from having really good conversations with people and I like to be near people but not necessarily speaking to them all the time (I’d rather fall asleep on them most of the time). They drain me out so fast too. My family was just in town for a few weeks and it will take me a few weeks to cope. Most of my energy comes from dance. It might not make sense to most people, but it’s true.

- And then I learned that some people think being an extrovert means you’re focused on external stimuli. Well, this certainly isn’t true for me. I think so much in my head that one day I decided to focus more on the outside world because it was just too much for me to handle emotionally.

- I socialize like an introvert. Even in a crowd of people, I find one person to pay attention to and they get all of my attention.

-  I’m slow to decide if someone is friend material. You may think we’ve been friends for five years and I’ll be like “dude, I know one thing about you and I don’t trust you”.

- I used to be very oblivious to social cues but then I researched them and practiced them so now I’m pretty good at them.

- Si wise, if you say an adjective I can remember my associations with it very easy. This makes reading horror novels a gruesome experience. I’m a pretty nostalgic person sometimes. I’m not too sure about this one but I think it’ll be the deciding factor in whether or not I’m an INTP.

- INTPs – > small pictures within a bigger picture. When I start learning about a subject, I find a nuanced part of it very quickly. Mass incarceration for example. When I started researching about it, I became very focused on teenage drug abuse among impoverished groups in the Northeast and case studies of police planting drugs on teens to arrest them.

- I will waste 12 hrs. fixing my typos in a script. I wrote a 40 pg. script in about 8 and the rest of the day was just making sure that every word was the perfect one to use.  

- One of the videos I watched said that INTPs like to intellectually support others and bring them up to their standards. This is very true for me. I’m always the friend that people ask to explain a concept to. I don’t mind taking the time to explain anything that I know about. I just want you to learn so that you can go on to have a great conversation later in life.

- When I meet other ENTPs I don’t really see myself in them a whole lot. I do relate to their need for mental stimulation. But the INTP I know and I have been told we have the same personality on more than one occasion.

- I have 3 friend groups, so technically I have a lot of friends, but I really only hang out and talk to 2 of my friends regularly. I have go-tos for my rants.

- My friend just called me and my response was “hello, why did you make me charge my phone for this when I could have texted you on my laptop instead” . I do like talking on the phone, but the act of calling someone and having to think of things to say makes me nervous. 

- I have three main intellectual focuses. Human rights, zoology, and cinema. Outside of those, I usually feel like I don’t know what to say until I take a hot second to learn everything about that subject ever written.

- I do have a kind of dark sense of humor but it’s delivered in a light-hearted way. And really dark stuff makes me super uncomfortable. I also don’t show this dark humor to anyone but close friends.

- When talking about poverty or other social issues I do use my own experience (INTP) on the subject rather than using universal hypotheticals (someone thought this was more of an ENTP thing)

- Don’t like being touched/cuddled that much but do like cuddling other people and taking care of them.

- I think my friends Jake and Sebastian are ENTPs, in which case, we click really well and I’m one of the few people who don’t get mad at them. But I will call them out for being offensive. And a very notable difference between us is that Jake will challenge everything anyone has ever said ever. I will only challenge it, once again, if I disagree with your foundation of logic.

- When I’m around over three people I don’t really know what’s happening aside from the people I’ve focused on.

- I think in my head so much that it tires me out to exhaustion. I remember one day deciding that I wasn’t going to think to myself so much and instead focus on external things because I was just tired of contemplating things without having concrete information to make a definite answer. 

- I feel alone in large groups and like to latch on to one close friend. 

- I feel like I can “adopt on” other people’s personalities but it’s not really true. I’m always myself I’m just sometimes more talkative. 

All that being said, I don’t think I’m a stereotypical INTP if I even am one. I think I probably am more emotionally developed than a lot of rational types and I’m learning how to be there for people and just be empathetic. People are constant works in progress and I consider myself a constant work in progress.

I’m externally very dynamic (or at least appear to be) and open to my opinions being challenged, but I’m also very stubborn and static unless I arrive to those logical conclusions too.

I really thought when I started saying I was an ENTP that my INTP tendencies were just the depressed version of me. But I’m not currently depressed and sometimes the evidence becomes too big to ignore. But I wouldn’t mind hearing other opinions since I’ve only been into MBTI for a month and recognize that there are other, more experienced people out there.

- It’s 12:29 AM I have been working on this post for 2 hrs. so I’m definitely an NT.

--- 

There’s not a whole lot of information out there distinguishing between ENTPs and INTPs without relying on stereotypes. But I have seen a lot of what is out there and I will personally be typing myself as an INTP for now. 

I really have never wanted to be an introvert,  and maybe I’m not one, but I think I’ve been too biased against it to act objectively. 

@confusedinfj I’ve taken this off of private mode so you can take a gander. 

[maddie-grove]

Bi-Monthly Reading Round-Up (July/August)

PLAYLIST

"Breakaway” by Kelly Clarkson (The Wonder)

“The Lusty Month of May” from Camelot (Between a Highlander and a Hard Place)

“Blood on My Name” by The Brothers Bright (Vampires in the Lemon Grove)

“Too Good at Goodbyes” by Sam Smith (A Prince on Paper)

“All I See Is You” by Dusty Springfield (The End of Everything)

“Your Song” by Elton John (Patience and Sarah)

“Reach Out and Touch (Somebody’s Hand)” by Diana Ross (Touchy Subjects)

“When You’re Young and in Love” by the Marvelettes (Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda)

“No Sleep Tonight” by the Faders (Can’t Escape Love)

“Take Me in Your Arms (Rock Me a Little While)” by Kim Weston (Bury Me Deep)

“Cold Bread” by Johnny Flynn (Fludd)

“Thunder Road” by Bruce Springsteen (The Rest of the Story)

“How Can I Meet Her?” by the Everly Brothers (Someone to Honor)

“A Matter of Trust” by Billy Joel (The Scandalous Secret of Abigail MacGregor)

BEST OF THE BI-MONTH

The Wonder by Emma Donoghue (2016): Lib Wright, an English nurse who worked with Florence Nightingale in the Crimean War, is hired to observe Anna O’Donnell, an eleven-year-old Irish girl who claims to have not eaten for four months. Initially exasperated at the everyone’s credulity, Lib gradually realizes that there’s a lot more going on with Anna, her family, and her village than she thought...and that the girl may be in serious danger if she doesn’t intervene. Despite my love of Donoghue’s work, I put off reading this one for a while because the subject looked so grim. Although Donoghue does deal with difficult material, the growing relationship between prickly Lib and bright-but-haunted Anna makes the novel transcendent.

WORST OF THE BI-MONTH

Between a Highlander and Hard Place by Mary Wine (2018): After her highborn suitor shows his true colors, Athena Trappes sets fire to his house in self-defense and flees to Scotland. There she attracts the attention of Symon, Laird Grant, a melancholy widower. This Elizabethan romance has its moments, notably a lovely meet-cute at a May Day celebration, but it’s mostly dull with some irritating tropes.

REST OF THE BI-MONTH

Vampires in the Lemon Grove by Karen Russell (2013): In this collection, Russell tells the stories of various oddities, including women who turn into silkworms, presidents who are reincarnated as horses, and, yes, vampires in the lemon grove. The collection is remarkably consistent, and Russell shows enormous range in it. My favorites are the utterly chilling prairie horror of “Proving Up,” the hilariously absurd “The Barn at the End of the Term,” and the heartbreaking “The Graveless Doll of Eric Mutis.”

A Prince on Paper by Alyssa Cole (2019): Nya Jerami has existed under a cloud of suspicion and gossip since her abusive father, an adviser to the king of Thesolo, was sent to prison for poisoning his political rivals. Eager to start her life properly but unsure how, Nya finds unexpected help from Johan van Braustein, the seemingly devil-may-care stepson of the king of a European micronation. This is my favorite contemporary romance I’ve ever read, with two dynamic, endearing protagonists and a strong sense of setting. Cole expertly blends realistic modern-day concerns with frothy wish fulfillment (plus a dash of fairy-tale Gothic).

The End of Everything by Megan Abbott (2011): When her best friend Evie disappears, thirteen-year-old Lizzie only has scanty clues regarding where or why. As she becomes more and more consumed with finding the answer, she discovers dark secrets underlying her seemingly placid 1980′s suburb. Of all the Abbott novels I’ve read, this is the simplest and perhaps the most disturbing. I didn’t love it, but it’s very effective.

Patience and Sarah by Isabel Miller (1969): In 1810′s Connecticut, educated “spinster” Patience White finds herself intrigued by sweet, rough-hewn Sarah Dowling. Although their families contrive to keep them apart, they eventually make it to New York and start a farm together. Of the five f/f romance novels I’ve read, this is my very favorite. Miller captures the feel of early American literature very well, and the romance has a nice balance of tension and sweetness.

Touchy Subjects by Emma Donoghue (2006): This collection of short stories is, naturally enough, organized around “touchy subjects” like babies, domesticity, strangers, desire, and death. There are some jewels in this collection: the sad/funny “WritOr” (about a struggling author who takes on a resident-writer position at a rural college), the bittersweet “The Welcome” (about a naive young lesbian with a crush on a reserved trans woman), and the strangely uplifting “Enchantment” (about a rivalry between Cajun fishermen). There’s a lot of chaff to separate from the wheat, though; many of the stories are very slight.

Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda by Becky Albertalli (2015): Simon Spier, an upper-middle-class teen in suburban Atlanta, isn’t 100% sure why he hasn’t come out as gay to his liberal family or friends, but for now he prefers to keep his sexuality (and a flirtatious email correspondence with an anonymous boy called Blue) under wraps. When a classmate finds out the truth and blackmails Simon into setting him up with his friend Abby, that task becomes a lot more complicated. Despite the rather disturbing premise, this is a super-cute YA novel that I would have loved when I was a YA. (At twenty-eight, I still liked it a lot; it’s just got a sense of immediacy that was a little lost on me thanks to my relatively advanced age, but would’ve been very appealing to me at sixteen.) 

Can’t Escape Love by Alyssa Cole (2019): Regina Hobbs, highly successful proprietor of a website about nerdy stuff, has it all together, except she’s suffering from a wicked case of insomnia. She’s convinced that only the voice of Gustave Nguyen, a puzzle designer she got to know after tuning into his livestream, can get her to sleep, so she contacts him to see if she can have a recording of his voice. Even though they both think it’s kind of weird, her request gets them talking...and MORE. This is a short but absolutely delightful novella about two neat people hooking up. The stakes are low, but the tensions stemming from Regina’s family keeps things interesting.

Bury Me Deep by Megan Abbott (2009): In the depths of the Great Depression, Marion Seeley finds herself alone in Phoenix while her morphine-addict husband chases redemption in Mexico. Working an administrative job at a local hospital, she falls in with party-girl nurse Louise, her TB-afflicted girlfriend Ginny, and (much to her sorrow) corrupt, handsome Joe Lanigan. Abbott’s historical crime novel takes a little while to heat up, but once it does it’s a very satisfying thriller. However, I was never convinced of Joe’s attractiveness even at a surface level, which was kind of an impediment to enjoying the story because Marion sure is.

Fludd by Hilary Mantel (1989): A mysterious stranger comes to a deeply Catholic, determinedly miserable English village in the 1950′s, claiming to be the new curate. While there, he greatly affects the lives of an alcoholic priest, his prim housekeeper, an unhappy young nun, and a pompous bishop. This is a highly peculiar, often enjoyable fable, although it drags quite a bit in the third quarter.

The Rest of the Story by Sarah Dessen (2019): Emma, an anxious seventeen-year-old who lost her mom to addiction five years ago, ends up spending part of the summer with her seldom-seen maternal relatives, who own a downscale motel in a lake town. While there, she learns about her mother’s secret history, observes the tensions between her family’s working-class community and the upscale resort people across the lake, has a low-key romance with a childhood friend, and practices her driving. This novel isn’t among Sarah Dessen’s best--the ending is a little rushed, and the romance feels perfunctory--but the setting is cool and Emma is an interesting protagonist.

Someone to Honor by Mary Balogh (2019): Years after her dad’s bigamy was revealed, resulting in her de-legitimization, reserved Abigail Westcott shows no interest in trying to re-enter society, instead opting to hang out with her convalescing Napoleonic War veteran brother. Unfortunately, his surly friend, Lieutenant Gilbert Bennington, is also intent on keeping her brother company to avoid his own problems, and he and Abigail don’t exactly get along. They come to understand each other, though, and decide to take a chance on marriage when Gilbert finds himself in trouble. I found this Regency romance to be solid but overly somber (not an infrequent issue with Balogh). I never got a great sense of who Abigail was and, while I sympathized with Gil, I also found him very irritating at times.

The Scandalous Secret of Abigail MacGregor by Paula Quinn (2015): In the late 1700′s, Queen Anne summons Davina MacGregor, secret eldest daughter of James II (and, were she not Catholic, rightful ruler of Great Britain), to court. Because Davina is sickly, her daughter Abigail, who has ambitions of being clan chieftain, goes to court in her place. She’s accompanied by Captain General Daniel Marlow, a Jacobite-hating English soldier and close friend of Anne’s. He’s got some trust issues and a stalker. This romance had a lot of potential, but too much of it is spent on the road and not enough on juicy court drama. The straight-version-of-Rachel-Weisz’s-character-in-The-Favorite villain was also, unfortunately, usurped by her much more boring lover.

[edeneben]

My Coming Out Story

⚠️//TRIGGER WARNINGS: Homophobia, Sexual Assault, rape, depression, self hatred, and suicide//⚠️

If you know me, you know I’m pretty flamboyant and pretty open about how the fact I’m pretty flipping queer. But I haven’t always been very happy being like this, as most other queer people also aren’t and this is basically the story of how I accepted that.

Second grade; the point and time in most people’s lives that is mainly a blur of silly bands, crayons, and story books. For me personally, it was the start of absolute hell.

So I was raised in a pretty religious family. I would end up praying before every meal, before I go to sleep, and at least three times a week at church functions. So really early on I heard a lot of really gross and disgusting things. (Not to say all religious people are bad, it’s just I was raised in a conservative republican town were Friday nights are spent at youth group by most high schoolers) so by the age of seven or eight I heard the words “faggot” and “queers” thrown around a lot and the whole “All homos deserve to burn in Hell and be stoned.” Though, I did’t really understand the concept of being gay, or love in general.

So you could sarcastically say I was off to a great start.

In elementary school we would read these short stories in these obnoxiously massive books, and one of these stories was about a hedgehog or something baking a yellow cake. As a fun activity my teacher Mrs.Blair has us bake a cake in groups of four. We didn’t pick our groups, she just kind of shoved our desks together and said “have fun.”

In my group it was two boys, a girl, and me. The two boys were kind of annoying and I basically ignored them the whole time, but the girl was a different story. I noticed that she had short, messy light brown hair, very pretty greenish eyes, and a very cute smile. I took a liking to her pretty quickly and I started sitting with her at lunch instead of with my friends. I knew I really enjoyed being around her and that I thought she was the actual prettiest person I had ever seen. Though, I didn’t get why.

Then my friends started talking about boys and crushes. I couldn’t relate to anything they were saying before but after I met the girl, I did start to relate. But I related in a different way. Everything they said about the boys they liked were how I thought about her. Wanting to hold her hand and play house with her and crap. (We all know playing house together was the way to flirt back then)

So inevitably I was like, “Oh. Why am I the only one thinking about girls? Am I weird?” And then I kind of understood I was the bad thing they talked about in church all the time. I was the evil horrid thing that didn’t have a place in being there. Which, was a horrible thing to think about.

This was when self hatred really set in. Not only did I deal with that crushing reality, but my teenage brother also started arguing with my parents a lot and hearing the fights really hurt me mentally and I started crying myself to sleep.

I was eight. None of that stuff should have been a problem, though of course it was. *** Then in third grade I started praying a lot more and I joined an after school church club thing ran by my church.

Every time we would meet, Father Michael would ask those of us who haven’t been saved to go to the back of the room and pray with him to get saved. He kind of knew something was up when I went back there every single meeting, but he never asked. Probably for the best in all honesty.

Then I was like, “Yeah okay all of the praying has to be working by now and I’m totally not a homosexual now lmao.” Which, obviously not but I pretended to like guys anyways. (Ey Tyler waddup bud, yeah that was you. Jokes on both of us were both gay now love youuuu)

The day I told everybody I totally definitely liked him was the day before he moved away so I wouldn't have to deal with it. So. Yeah. *** Fourth grade was more of the same, just sadder tbh. Oh and I got another crush on a girl named Kayla I dated twice. Almost three but let’s not get into that. ( @kayla-le-queen ) *** Fifth grade was the first time I ever said I liked girls out loud. Though I kind of lied to myself and said “ha ha I like both.” Which I didn’t, but I had convinced myself that I was slightly ‘normal.’

It’s kind of a weird story as I had just been swimming with my other religious friend in their pool and I was like “oh by the way-“ Which, describes how awkward I am perfectly.

This is also the year I started making internet friends who had the same interests and experiences as me and I was sort of getting my footing with myself. *** Nothing prepared me for the absolute shit storm that was sixth grade.

Not only did I deal with hitting puberty, drama, a new school, and the surfacing of panic attacks, I had to deal with getting outed. Yep. Let’s get into it shall we?

Sixth grade. I came out as bi to a couple of my friends and stopped going to church. Only low key though. I wasn’t looking for my entire life to be flipped upside down. My parents were casually homophobic and my peers were actively expressing that.

Still, I decided to start dating someone.

Remember my friend who I came out to in the pool? Yeah, them. I dated them.

BIG MISTAKE.

As soon as we started dating, they told everyone. I told them “no one needs to know, we should keep it private you know? For safety.” They refused to listen.

By the end of the day everyone in my grade and even some upperclassmen knew that I was bi. Though the message got messed up and everyone thought I was a lesbian. (Which made me uncomfortable because I was still mfnsjsjjd about gender and stuff) (that’s a whole other coming out that I don’t want to get into in this as the whole thing is not anywhere near over)

Then the bullying for it started happening.

I was the first “out” kid in my grade so of course I was met with a bunch of crap.

Girls in locker rooms would yell at me for looking up at all, and there was one incident were a girl decided to come up to me, grope my chest and laugh about it with her friends because, “I was just a dirty lesbo pervert who probably enjoyed it.”

Guys would say repeatedly they could make me straight and also would do similar things to what that girl is.

Did I tell my parents? No of course I didn’t. I wasn’t out and I needed it to stay that way. My dad had anger issues and he had once hit my brother out of anger. So, I didn’t really feel completely safe to be quite honest. (It’s kind of better now. He still gets angry easy but he only had one more incident and that was years ago.)

I ended up breaking up with that person because I clearly couldn’t trust them and I was very upset with them. I still blame them. *** Then seventh grade happened. As per usual things got worse.

My parents found out about my internet friends and read all of our messages and I got outed to them.

Then my parents never trusted me again and took away the one good thing I had in my life that was consistently there for me and genuinely made me happy and feel safe.

Their homophobia also worsened. They also outed me to all of their friends and family. (Thanks mom)

I also attempted suicide for the first time. My parents and friends still don’t know about that. *** Eight grade was the worst year of my life. In eighth grade I kind of realized I was ace and came out to my friends and the girl I liked at the time.

I kind of blocked out homophobia at that point. Yes it was still happening to me and it had gotten worse, but eighth grade was a blur for me.

I can’t really remember much of it.

My English teacher who was a mother figure, Mrs.Freeze, who was the first adult to accept me, died during the last two weeks of school.

As well as an extremely traumatic event happened.

I might delete this part when I upload it but if I don’t I want you all to know that this is where I’m warning that sexual assault victims might want to click away at.

I decided to go on the Washington DC trip with my school and the girl I liked went with me.

By the time we got back to the hotel, I hadn’t slept in over twenty-four hours so I was asleep rather quickly.

It was four girls to a room, two to a bed. The two other girls left to hang out with their friends and it was just me left alone with the girl I liked and was out as ace to.

She took it upon herself to try to “fix” me.

I woke up while she was doing it and I eventually got her off me and escaped to the bathroom and cried.

I didn’t tell any adult on the trip and I just told a girl that I wasn’t comfortable around that girl anymore and thankfully she didn’t ask why and just switched seats on the bus with me and beds.

I still deal with trauma relating to this everyday, and I still have extreme panic attacks because of it. I lost physical trust with people for a while and I couldn’t be touched by anyone until recently.

This event also drove me to another suicide attempt.

That’s all I can say about that. Acephobia does exist and it can be extremely violent and damaging to people, so please just kindly shut up about ace discourse. *** During freshman year I was finally starting to be accepted by my parents, I came out as queer and ace officially, joined the GSA, met some more gays and life has been a bit better since then. *** My life isn’t perfect and homophobia is still a huge part of it and a lot of trauma surrounding my experience is still yet to be dealt with but I’m getting there. *** So my labels?

Queer and Ace-spec. That’s as specific as I can get I don’t know what you want from me lmao. *** Conclusion? Life does get better and eventually you will find acceptance and peace within yourself. I know you might be an extremely dark place with what looks like no chance of happiness or safety, but I promise you will get it eventually.

I love all of you and I wish you all the best in your own journeys.

Happy pride month.

❤️🧡💛💚💙💜💙💚💛🧡❤️

[queerlyobvious]

Reflections of Pride Month 2021

As Pride month 2021 comes to a close, I wanted to reflect a little. This is my third year of officially celebrating Pride as a publicly out gay man. I say official in the sense that I always knew what Pride month was and wanted so desperately to partake in it starting around age 15 or so. However, facing the situations I had to deal with and the negative repercussions I could have faced by coming out in my youth, I just put it all behind me knowing that one day I would be able to be free enough to participate. And that time came for me in June of 2019 when I met the RubiGirls at Levitt Pavilion in downtown Dayton and the rest was history. Because of the ongoing pandemic and public health orders not being rescinded in time it caused many Pride celebrations to not be fully operating or even cancel again this year. Because of this, I personally didn’t have a lot of local options for Pride things to do. Work and personal life got in the way of and caused the cancellation of several things I had committed to this month, but I did hang out with a good friend and see an amazing drag show at Mj’s which was Jackie-O’s send off to the pageant circuit. She won at the local level and now goes on to state, and I’m confident she will go on to the highest levels of competition. I can’t wait to see how it all shakes out for her. It was a great way to close out the month celebrating with my friends in Dayton, at a place where I’m comfortable, accepted and safe. My dad came around this year and let me display a Pride flag outside for the entire month of June. It comes down tomorrow and Old Glory goes back out in her deserving spot per our agreement, but I was glad that he let me do it. For every step we take forward, we seem to take 2 or 3 backwards so I’ll take any incremental progress I can get. He will sometimes be totally ok with things, then will say something awful and not catch himself or just not care. It hurts, but you cannot educate your way out of ignorance or try to force a change where there is no willingness. I call it a very slowly progressing work in progress. I posted on Facebook in late May about putting up my flag and Michael from Have A Gay Day took notice and shared my post. It was viewed by people in at least 5 different countries and had hundreds of likes, shares and comments. I had some amazing conversations with people I did not know from all across the globe about Pride, my coming out story and made a few new online friends along the way. I was shocked at how fast the post caught fire and made its rounds. Even a month later I am still getting a few likes and comments from re-shares that trickle in over the days. The entire thing is the most traction I have ever gotten on social media in the entire history of me using social media- you may think it is insignificant, but I am proud of people seeing what I wrote and how they reacted. And finally, my outward expression of Pride has sparked some conversation in my little town of Sidney. My flag offended some of the neighbors, which only made me get a bigger flagpole and shine a light on it at night… I’m a petty gay… what can I say? It also made some of the school aged kids talk to me the last week they were in school since my corner is the bus pickup for our part of the ‘hood. One kid asked me what it was, another told me they were trans and another said that he felt like he might be gay but didn’t know what to do, so I got some trusted resources together and gave the info to him the next day. I haven’t seen the kid yet to ask about what happened, but I hope he lets me know what’s going on next year at the bus stop. Our down the street ultra-conservative neighbors put out more 2024 “Save America” Trump flags and a UUUUGE “Homo Sex is Sin” flag, which I know was directly aimed at me, but I laughed it off- to their face - and when they realized I wasn’t going to be offended or start the Westboro Baptist war they were looking for, those flags came down and their regularly scheduled NASCAR and Confederate flags went back up. To close, it’s been a great Pride month even though I didn’t do much other than celebrate in my own way. I’m looking forward to next year when the celebrations will hopefully be larger and more plentiful. But if not, I have my friends and I have my LGBTQIA+ community standing with me to love and support me. I have never met a more amazing group of people. These are people who really care, who I call dear friends and people I am so fortunate to have met to help me in this journey. I don’t know where I’d be without you all. I love you. Happy Pride 2021! 

[perlukafarinn]

what’s there to talk about, ch 1

an edited version with a brand new though not at all different ending part 1 / part 2 / part 3 (ao3)

Dean has a friend.

It’s weird. Sam can’t remember the last time Dean made friends at a new school. He has girlfriends all the time but that’s not really the same thing.

It’s not like Dean can’t make friends. Sam’s seen him do it plenty of times, easily. People like Dean. It’s always been one of the things Sam envies the most about him (not that he’d ever tell him). But Dean doesn’t like people, at least not other guys, and hasn’t for a couple of years.

So what’s so different about this guy?

From what Sam can tell, he’s a dick. He wears a leather jacket, like Dean, except his isn’t way too big and obviously passed down from his dad. He’s got greasy, shoulder-length hair, and he’s always smoking. His name is Tyler. Everyone named Tyler is a dick, that’s just scientific fact.

He also always calls Sam Sammy, and ruffles his hair when he greets him. Dean does that too, but he’s Sam’s brother. Tyler is just some guy who Dean inexplicably decided was worth hanging out with.

Sam doesn’t get it.

 They’re staying at an apartment this time, not a motel room. Dad’s gonna let them stay until the end of the semester, though he’s not around much, constantly off on hunts.

It’s honestly better when he’s gone, because there’s only one bedroom in this apartment and when he’s here, Sam and Dean both sleep in the living room. At least when he’s gone, Sam gets the living room to himself. Dean takes the bedroom, of course, and whenever Tyler comes over they lock themselves in there. Sam’s not sure what they’re doing, but there’s usually music playing, and they always come out smelling like smoke.

He tries seeing what they do, once, but when he peeks through the keyhole the key is in the way. Then Dean rips the door open, like he somehow knew Sam was outside, and tears him a new one for spying.

“I wasn’t spying,” Sam protests. “Why are you sneaking around? Are you drinking?”

Dean grabs him by the shoulders, and steers him out into the living room. Sam tries to dig his heels, but it’s no use. Dean is way stronger than him.

“Don’t be stupid,” Dean tells him. “We’re not doing anything you need to worry about. Now go do your homework, nerd.”

Sam does go do his homework, but just because it needs doing, not because Dean told him to.

 Sam’s class gets assigned a group project for English. Most of his classmates have been ignoring him since he got here, so he ends up with the other outcasts, two guys named David and Noah. They decide to meet at the library after school.

Dean usually walks him home, even though Sam is thirteen years old and can be trusted to walk down the street by himself, thank you very much. Sam should probably tell him he doesn’t need to today (not that he ever does), but he’s not in the mood. With Sam out of the way, Dean can just hang out with Tyler some more.

So after the last bell of the day has rung, Sam ducks out of a side-entrance before Dean has any chance of spotting and following him. Despite that, he’s only been at the library with David and Noah for twenty minutes when Dean finds him.

“Shoulda known you’d be here.”

Sam turns around, startled. Dean is standing right there, looming over him with his arms crossed, and he looks pissed.

“We had a group project,” Sam says, but he knows it’s a weak excuse. He’s preparing to come up with a better one, when he spots Tyler leaning against a bookshelf a few feet away. “What’s he doing here?”

Dean’s head swivels around. When he turns back to face Sam, his cheeks have turned pink. “Look, just get your ass home before dinner. And let me know where you’re going next time.”

He leaves with Tyler, and Sam is left feeling baffled. He expected Dean to drag him home or give him a lecture or something. Not for Dean to basically fold and let him be. He turns, and David and Noah are both looking at him with strange expression.

“Was that your brother?” Noah asks, and Sam should have known this was coming. If anyone ever cares who he is, it’s only as Dean’s brother. Because Dean is older, and cooler, and much more interesting than dorky Sam. “Is he seriously friends with Tyler Brooks?”

That catches Sam off guard. Who seriously cares about that dick Tyler? “I think so. Why?”

David and Noah exchange looks.

“It’s just…” David says. “There’s some rumors about Tyler.”

“What rumors?” 

“You sure you wanna know?”

Sam huffs, growing impatient. “Just tell me.”

“People think he’s a homo,” Noah blurts.

“Dude,” David says. “You don’t just come out and say it.” He looks back at Sam, apologetic. “But, yeah, people do say that. Someone saw him giving another dude a blowjob in a Gas ‘N Sip bathroom.”

“I heard it was at a Burger King.”

Sam glances between them, shocked. That can’t be why Dean… even if it’s true about Tyler, there’s no way Dean is like that. It just doesn’t fit. Dean likes girls.

“That’s just what people say,” Noah adds. “Maybe your brother hasn’t even heard.”

“Definitely not,” Sam says quickly. He doesn’t care about people spreading rumors about Tyler, but like hell is he gonna let Dean get caught up in that. He doesn’t deserve that, even if he has been a douche lately. “He would never hang out with him if he knew.”

That seems to appease David and Noah, and they get back to working on their project. Sam does his best to help out, but his mind is preoccupied. What if it’s true what they say about Tyler? Does Dean know? And if he does, does he not care or is there something more to it?

Now that it’s been brought up, Sam can’t just let it go. He has to know for sure.

 The next morning, Sam tells Dean he’ll be going to the library again after school.

He waits out back for thirty minutes after school lets out. That gives Dean and Tyler plenty of time to get back to the apartment, if that’s where they’re hanging out today, and then Sam can sneak in without them knowing and find out what they’re always doing by themselves.

Not that he’s expecting anything. Because Dean isn’t like that. But this way he’ll know for sure.

On his way home, Sam starts planning out how he’ll get a look into the bedroom. The keyhole won’t work, but maybe he could slide a mirror under the door or something? He’s seen people do it in movies.

He gets home, opening the door as quietly and carefully as he can, and finds out immediately that he doesn’t need a plan.

Dean and Tyler aren’t in the bedroom. They’re in the living room, on the couch where Dean sleeps when Dad is in town, and they’re kissing.

Sam freezes in the doorway. He didn’t make any noise, so they haven’t noticed him yet. Dean is lying down, Tyler on top of him, and they’ve got their hands all over each other. It’s such a surreal image that Sam can’t even process that it’s happening.

He takes a step back, pushing the door closed with a soft click, and Dean’s eyes immediately fly open. He sits up, pushing Tyler off him, not taking his eyes of Sam.

“What are you doing here?” he says. His face has gone completely pale. Sam hasn’t seen him looking so scared since Dad blew his gasket about a hunt Dean botched up. “You said you’d be at the library.”

Sam opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. Dean and Tyler both stand up, Tyler looking between the two of them awkwardly, before saying, “I should go.”

Dean doesn’t protest. Tyler raises a hand towards him, then drops it. He grabs his jacket from the couch and shoulders his way past Sam, out the door. Leaving the two brothers by themselves, Dean staring at the floor and Sam staring at Dean.

“Why are you here?” Dean finally asks, still looking down at the floor instead of at Sam.

Sam swallows. Guilt and regret both twist in his gut, making him feel mildly nauseous. “I just wanted to see what you and- what you were doing.”

“Well.” Dean gives a hollow laugh and throws out his arms. “You saw.”

“Dean-”

“I’m gonna go take a nap,” Dean mutters.

He stalks to the bedroom before Sam can respond, slamming the door behind him.

 Dean doesn’t come out until dinner time. Sam’s been sitting on the couch (not the one Dean and Tyler were on), trying and failing to do his homework. He looks up when Dean opens the bedroom door, but Dean doesn’t look his way.

He stalks into the kitchen, out of view, and Sam gets up to follow him. When he gets there, Dean's rooting through the cabinets, pulling out cans of soup.

“You hungry?” Dean asks, not turning around to face him.

“Yeah,” Sam says quietly.

He sits down at the table, feeling completely at a loss. He still can’t process what he saw. Seeing Dean right now, it’s like looking at a stranger. Sam just wishes he could take the whole past week back. That way, he’d never found out about Tyler and about Dean. It would have been better.

Dean reaches into a cabinet, pulling out a pot, which he puts down on the kitchen counter with a heavy slam. He pauses for a moment, then finally turns around to face Sam.

“You’re not gonna tell Dad, are you?”

“No,” Sam says, because that’s an easy question to answer. He has no idea how to handle this situation, but he at least knows that bringing Dad into it would be a bad idea.

Dean nods, looking relieved. “How about your friends?”

It takes Sam a moment to realize that Dean’s talking about David and Noah. “I’m not gonna tell anyone.”

“Okay.” Dean sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Okay, good.”

“But they know about Tyler. Everyone does.”

Dean leans against the counter, looking very tired all of a sudden.

“You should stop hanging out with him,” Sam suggests carefully. “I mean, otherwise people are gonna talk about you too.”

Dean doesn’t answer. He goes back to making dinner, and Sam knows the conversation is over. They’re not gonna talk about this again.

 Dean seems to take Sam’s advice, since Tyler stops hanging around. The only times Sam sees him after that is briefly in the halls at school, and then they both pretend not to see each other.

Dean gets a girlfriend. Her name is Jennifer. She’s blonde and pretty, and she lasts about a month. After her, there’s Charlotte, and then Katie, and then Tina.

Eventually, Sam convinces himself that Tyler was some aberration. Dean is clearly into girls; he’s way too much of a horndog to be faking it.

Still, he’s relieved when Dad comes back and says they’re moving. Once they’re in another state and Tyler is nothing but a memory they’ll be able to leave this all behind them. Dean can go back to being the person Sam’s always known him to be.

[24hrfilm]

THE OUTSIDERS

Brotherhood at its very best.

My friend read this book and said I had to read it, but it wasn't available at the library when I went so I just brought the DVD. I was very surprised by this film! It's about two gangs in a little town in the USA, the greasers and the socs. Ponyboy and Johnny are part of the Greasers, the poor, 'bad' kids. They hang out with some girls from the Socs, and a lot of things happen after that. It all leads to a big gang war in the end. I expected a very 'manly' film, mainly because it's from the 80s and most of the male characters in old films seem to have a strong urge to prove their masculinity. This film really surprised me in those aspects. The relationships between the boys (the Greasers are an all boy gang) are really tight and close. The boys don't seem to have a lot of trouble to show their vulnerability to each other. Some of my favourite scenes are the one where Ponyboy and his older brother lie together in a bed, and they kind of hug each other and talk about how they're feeling. That's really cool because you only see that kind of stuff between sisters, and physical contact is usually a something associated with sisterhood, while it's also a refreshing portrayal of brotherhood. Also, there aren't a lot of those awkward moments between the boys. They say "I love you" instead of "yeah, I kind of think you're cool, bro, no homo" because that last one is not a right portrayal we see of boys. These boys fulfill pretty much every standard of masculinity. They’re strong, they look tough, they smoke and they goof around, yet they you don’t feel like the characters are trying to prove how masculine they are. For me, that was one of the best things in the film, the tight relationships are so touching to see. The visuals in this film is fantastic as well. It has a very summer-y feel. This film killed me with the line "Stay gold, ponyboy" and I just burst out into tears. 

[cluelesskstuff]

How Yosuke Hanamura broke my heart

It’s incomplete, but I had to get this out of my system:

How Yosuke Hanamura broke my heart

Persona 4 is a funny game. It is also a long game, and that allows the social simulation aspect of it to really work, allows you to feel at home with the characters, through charm and repetition - grumpy Dojima, overly energetic Chie, confused heart of gold Kanji. Through little bits of interaction, day by in-game day, you at some point start to realise that when this is over, you might actually miss them. All of them. 

And then there is Yosuke. 

You play Persona 4 as Souji, a quite detached guy moving in from the city, hand on his hip, jacket slung over his shoulder, and while you, the player, grow fond of the game's characters, Souji always feels like he doesn't quite belong. He is the leader, the one who pulls the strings, the one grown up far beyond their age, with the world's weight on their shoulders. 

You juggle realtionships, help people out, they call you senpai, sensei - and then there is Yosuke. 

Yosuke, who somehow, magically, manages to transcent Persona 4's charming but game-y relationship system and becomes something else. Yosuke, who calls you Partner, and rings you up at night asking about your dreams or which girl you like. Yosuke, who does and says so many silly things that you never quite know what to expect - Yosuke, who ultimately breaks the boundaries of Persona 4 and makes Souji/Yosuke the most unexpectedly real-feeling relationship within a video game that I've ever encountered. 

I don't know what I thought when I first laid eyes on him, it's likely that it was something along the lines of "Hey, this is quite cool-looking for an anime video game guy. Nice headphones."

Then, in quick succession, things happened that made it clear that Yosuke was many things - heartbroken, repressed, funny, lazy, loyal, competitive, insecure, reckless - and that there was something building between him and Souji that seemed like a stunningly natural depiction of friendship. Somehow, this is rare - a video game showing two guys becoming friends, a process that just like falling in love requires making first moves, and opening up, and getting comfortable with each other. It seemed like Yosuke was the person in the cast that always wanted to know a little more, the one to push Souji a little bit, willing to ask stupid questions just to get a reaction, and unlike the other characters, he seemed to always act out of a desire to be level with Souji, to break through the calm, collected, leader-shell of his and address the human being inside. 

Now, that alone would be a remarkable thing for a video game to depict, and worthy of high praise. What complicates things is that Yosuke, no matter how much he might deny it, seems like the most obvious case of a closeted gay person the world has ever seen. 

When I started playing Persona 4, I had a pretty good idea of what I was getting myself into, through reading about it and actually having played a bit in the past. I also knew about the game's realtionship system, and was aware, or thought I was, that you could only get romantically involved with girls. Thus, when the game started to tease the possibility of a gay option, I raised an eyebrow, then another one, and then I lost my marbles. 

When it started, the closeness between Souji and Yosuke had already been established, and since I'm a sucker for guys not actually hating each other, I started to favour Yosuke a little bit - choosing him to eat lunch with on the roof, studying together, spending afternoons at the Junes food court, talking in the soft glow of the sun on the Samegawa river bank. When Yosuke asked which girl I liked, I chose "neither", cheekily, thinking I was playing the metagame, when the next midnight channel story twist came up, I bet each time that Yosuke would be the one to call Souji, outraged, worried, flustered, and each time when the phone rang and it was indeed him, I smiled to myself. But surely it was all in my head - I was starting to ship it, but it was just a fun little thing to do, to spare a thought here and there and layer it on top of these two characters whose interactions I enjoyed way more than expected. 

Then, these little moments started happening - the group sitting together at Junes' and Yosuke remarking how good Partner is with his hands, a comment that might not even have stuck out so much if weren't for the fact that immediately after saying it, Yosuke became a hot mess of backpedalling embarrassment. His insistence to know whether Souji had a crush on somebody, and who it was, despite the awkwardness. His remarks about inviting a third person to their activities, "or else people might think we're gay." And ultimately, the sheer time the game devoted to the Souji/Yosuke relationship - way more than any of the other characters got.

Persona 4's social link system is fairly rigid. You choose to spend time with people, and if things go well, and even sometimes if they don't, it raises your relationship level with said person, allowing you to climb the social link ranks, which has gameplay and combat benefits and also allows you, in some cases, to pursue a romance. What is remarkable about Yosuke is that the game spends a significant amount of time showing interactions between Yosuke and Souji outside of this system, building their relationship beyond the confines of you walking up to a person after school and answering "yes" to their proposal of hanging out. This not only serves to create a markedly more natural and complex relationship, it also sets Yosuke apart from the other characters - he is the one to choose to interact with Souji while the other characters can only wait to be chosen. 

And then Kanji entered the picture, Yosuke freaked out completely and I looked on, amazed at the fact that this game would dare to introduce a gay character, who, despite being closeted, met up with dates after school and whose dungeon was, of all things, a gay bathhouse, with sexual content that wasn't even the slightest bit concealed. Of all the characters, Yosuke reacted most strongly to this, outright refusing to enter and making a big fuss about being afraid of Kanji taking advantage of him. 

It culminated in the camping trip - Kanji, Yosuke, Souji sharing a tent - a scenario that could have been used very easily for a gay romance movie of questionable quality, full of the usual tropes of late night talks, denial, confrontation and very real confusion on my part of where exactly this was going - the game laid on the armored gay homophobia on Yosuke so thick that it seemed almost impossible to read what was going on in any other way. Combined with the unusual qualities that had been established in the realtionship before Kanji joined the group, it started to feel like an entire plot was going on behind the scenes, inexplicit yet persistent and increasingly impossible to ignore. 

A few in-game days after that camping trip, Yosuke broke another boundary the game had set up to this point - he visited Souji's home. More importantly, his room, a place that up until then you, the player, had always been alone in. The conversation that followed, in that intimate space, can't adequately be described as subtext anymore, it's text, and very gay text at that. I was streaming the game at the time, and I bet if that session's video was still up, you'd hear my breath hitch in surprise when Yosuke, no homo Yosuke, asked about Souji's porn stash and teasingly, suggestively stated he'd find it while Souji was out of the room. That was only the top of the iceberg, the whole scene and its context hit me like a 10 ton truck - could it be real? Was there really, explicitly something going on? The fact that I, after learning through research that there was no gay option, felt the need to double check after that scene, to make sure there wasn't one, should speak volumes. 

That's when I learned of the fact that Yosuke very likely was a gay option, that there were unused text and voice lines left over on the game's disk that turned the inexplicit explicit, both in english and japanese, suggesting the developer changed their mind after the localization was done, i.e. very late in the game's development. Only, they had ripped out very little, leaving in tons of sublte and not so subtle parts of the relationship, and that was when I realised that Persona 4, beyond being one of the best games I have ever played, would also have the potential to make me very sad, and very angry.

It wasn't just that gay rights had been dear to my heart for as long as I could remember. It wasn't just that the progression of Souji and Yosuke's relationship eclipsed any other possible pairing in the lineup by miles in terms of complexity and depth and just feeling right. It was the loss of an incredible story being told, a story that would have been unique in the history of video games - the story of two fully realised, multi-faceted male characters that you, as a player, like, falling in love, and dealing with the fact that they both happen to be guys, with all the issues that might bring in a society where homophobia and hate are still so prevalent. 

While this has been done in movies to great success in recent times, mainstream video games haven't dared to show male homosexual relationships in positive light and up front and center. Persona 4 does dare to spend significant time on very progressive subjects, including homosexuality and transgender issues, but it falters and pulls back just on the brink of being truly groundbreaking, which, to anybody playing the game with an open mind, can only scream injustice both in a worldly and in an in-game sense. 

The level 9 rank of Yosuke's social link progression has the two of you standing on a hill overlooking the town of Inaba. Yosuke'd probably call it a village, and the two of you talk about coming to terms with your place in the world, literally and figuratively. It's autumn, and the evening sun plays with the coloured leaves on the trees - it's a beautiful spot, a wistful song is playing, and despite the Playstation 2's aged graphics you can't help but marvel a little. You've never been to this spot before, you think Yosuke probably brought you here, and you wonder if there are any other locations in the town you know so well by now that you haven't seen.

"There is still nothing here," Yosuke says, meaning Inaba, a place he resented for the longest time, "but I have family, and friends...and you."

I sat in front of the TV for a long time, the soft piano notes of the song playing making me ache, and then I realised that while Yosuke Hanamura was denied the chance to become part of video games' first positively framed gay male relationship, he had acomplished one thing:

Yosuke Hanamura broke my heart.

[goodoldfisticuffs]

Riverdale  Episode 1 Recap: Who Killed Justin Blossom?

It occurred to me that my vague liveblogging probably didn’t do Riverdale enough justice. It makes the bold assumption that other people watched Riverdale which. In a perfect world, this is untrue and I am the only person dumb enough to watch that show. So for the rest of the Earth’s population, here’s what you missed. Spoiler alert: Archie fucked his teacher.

So the episode opens with Jughead narrating the setup for the main plotline like he’s Agent Dale Cooper in a stupid hat.

Cheryl Blossom and her brother Justin went out in a canoe together like two normal teenage twins. A few hours later Cheryl turned up on the riverbank and said her brother fell in. They never found the body but they assume he’s dead. Just like this paragraph assumed you knew who Cheryl Blossom is. She was added to the Archie Canon in the 80s, so you are excused for not knowing about her. I know about her because I am a fool who learns everything about the things they hate.

After the intro we get our character introductions in neat order. First up is Betty, who is hanging out with her best gay friend, Kevin Keller. You may know about Kevin Keller because it was a big deal that he became Archie’s only first openly gay character. And Riverdale makes sure you know who Kevin is and what he’s about because while trying to get Betty to buckle up for getting Archie to admit he’s her fuckign b>oyfreiongd he immediately switches to going “Archie got hot!” Because:

 Archie’s house is directly across from Betty’s.

Archie is changing his shirt in front of his unshaded window.

Archie is ripped for some reason.

Look, I get wanting Archie to appeal as a main character, and god knows that if you based this TV version 100% on the comic version you’d fail, but does this teen boy really need to be jacked? It’s not going to be relevant to the story. Except for creepy reasons.

Next up is Veronica. She’s new in town. Her dad is in jail for embezzlement? Or whatever it is rich white men go to jail for. If you’re vaguely familiar with Betty & Veronica, you know that Veronica is supposed to be a stuck up rich girl who is barely tolerable. Riverdale continues to flip everything on its head by making her the show’s only legitimately likable character. I mean... she’s still rich. That went unchanged. But she arrives on the scene and openly admits she thinks Archie’s a beefcake but then decides to do everything to help Betty when she hears that they’re already kind of sort of maybe an item.

Ronnie watches out for her girls. At first.

Hey, isn’t this show based on Archie comics? Where the fuck’s Archie? He finally gets his intro while Betty tries to get him to put a label on their relationship. He opts for just flat-out ogling Veronica as she enters. What a swell guy! 

Riverdale, to its credit, does give a reason for Archie being muscular. He worked at his dad’s construction company for the summer! Just one summer doing construction work! That’s all it takes!

Oh, speaking of Archie’s abs (god I wish we weren’t but this fucking show...) during the school assembly where Cheryl tells everyone the formal dance is still on despite her brother being dead/missing (yay! dancing!) we see Archie looking at one of the teachers...

Apparently this is Ms. Grundy. Who in the comics looks like this:

An uncanny likeness! But why is Archie looking at her? Well a flashback shows him walking home from the hot guy construction site. Ms. Grundy passes in her car and notices his fucking abs and offers to drive him home. 

And by “drive” I mean “have sex with” and by “home” I mean “in her car.”

Just to reiterate. Archie and Ms. Grundy had sex. Multiple times. And this is revealed 20 minutes into an hour-long show. And they didn’t expect me to throw up in my mouth over it!

This is bad for the obvious, statutory reasons, but the kicker on this is now I cannot look at any Archie comic containing Archie and Ms. Grundy without thinking about this. 

Anyway, let’s push past this (believe me, I will never stop pointing out this is awful but we have like 30 minutes of program left to go over) and get to character interactions. As previously stated, Kevin Keller is here and he’s queer. And he’s also, regrettably, camp as all fuck. Because TV really needed another witty gay man acting as a sidekick to a straight woman. Veronica’s the new girl. Betty’s the stressed normal who needs to cut loose. And Cheryl is the awful queen bee (or “queen bae” as Veronica bewilderingly put it) who clashes with them.

It’s just like Mean Girls! Except there’s a murder mystery. And Archie fucked his teacher. And Tina Fey isn’t here.

Veronica and Kevin encourage Betty to go after Archie and she kind of sort of does. She was supposed to ask Archie to accompany her to the formal dance, which she did, but she also included Veronica in the invitation! And Archie said sure because he’s too busy being conflicted about stuff to notice how weird it is that two girls are both his date to this thing.

Wasn’t this show about a murder? It is, but first we have to deal with everyone’s extracurriculars! B&V try out for cheerleading despite Cheryl’s position as head cheerleader. Their performance is poorly received, so, at Veronica’s bidding, they kiss! 

I’m a fucking idiot. At the very instant this kiss happened it was as if the heavens opened up. I am not a huge fan of the Betty/Archie/Veronica situation, in case that isn’t clear. Look, people are free to date however they want. They want to keep their relationship open and see more than one person at the same time, fine, IF all parties involved are cool with it. Betty and Veronica’s friendship in the comics is... vitriolic at best. They definitely view each other as rivals for Archie’s affection. And Archie gets to stand off to the side while this happens, blameless and without his dick and balls getting kicked in at least once for stringing these two girls along.

So the idea of Betty and Veronica breaking the cycle and just dating each other is a concept that had never occurred to me but suddenly seemed like a great idea. And then the kiss passed, and Cheryl called them out for faking a lesbian relationship as a ploy to get the parts. And they admitted to it being fake. Because of course this show couldn’t at least let me have a lesbian relationship.

The silver lining here is that this is the CW. If they did allow B&V to be girlfriends they’d most likely botch the fuck out of their relationship. So we are ultimately spared that, I guess. 

Betty and Veronica get into the cheer squad after Veronica rips into Cheryl and asserts her dominance. Oh, and Archie gets on the football team. But that’s not what he wants. He just wants to play music. Because of course. He broods about how his dad wants him to work for his construction company but would only let him not do that if he was footballing but in his soul he is a musician. Because Archie can’t just have two goddamn conflicts in his life. Life is always assaulting him from three directions.

But Archie’s dad, Luke Perry, turns out to be a reasonable human being and tells Archie he’s free to do whatever he wants. So Archie picks football and music. Because when Archie makes a choice he always chooses two options at the same goddamn time.

Well what about the music? Archie seeks out Ms. Grundy to teach him. About music. Ms. Grundy doesn’t want to do it at first because she doesn’t trust herself around him but ultimately does and now we have to be on constant alert for even more Archie and Grundy fucking. Oh boy. 

Oh! Also, Archie and Grundy heard a gunshot on the day Justin Blossom went missing. Remember that? Remember how this was about a murder mystery? Me neither! It’s time for the dance! Fucking nothing important happens! It’s all about the after party.

Everyone goes to Cheryl’s house to drink age appropriate drinks out of red plastic cups. Cheryl, intent to ruin everything for everyone, proposes playing “Seven Minutes in Heaven.” Y’know, like what modern teenagers always do. She some how (magic? is Sabrina here?) rigs it so Archie and Veronica have to go into a closet together for seven minutes. For about three minutes, they shoot the shit because they openly admit that they don’t want to kiss.

Archie admits to not loving Betty. He only felt that kind of love for one person (HURGHLGHHEMEANSGRUNDYBLURGHLGH) but he only sees Betty as a friend. For some reason, this turns Veronica on? And they kiss. FUCKING GREAT JOB VERONICA. I MEAN, ARCHIE IS ALSO TO BLAME BUT ARCHIE IS THE WORST. YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO BE BETTER THAN THIS.

So the centuries-old tradition of Betty vs Veronica over Archie continues!

Betty, obviously, runs away from the party because Veronica broke the sacred trust of hoes before bros. Chicks before dicks. Sisters before misters. 

Archie goes to Pop’s... ugh... “Pop’s Chock-lit Shoppe” to talk to Jughead. Oh hey! Jughead’s in this! He doesn’t eat burgers though. He’s too busy being a blossoming writer. But he offers Archie some sage advice that I honestly don’t remember because it was bland as fuck. I guess it was about going to Betty’s house at night and telling her he loves her.

Meanwhile, Kevin and Moose (oh Moose is the big jock character btw, this show has a bunch of side characters I skipped over because fuck is this post long, like Josie and the Pussycats!) go to the river to skinny dip. Moose, as he puts it, isn’t gay. But when asked by Kevin what he’d like to do, Moose also says “Everything but kissing.”

Dude. Moose. Everything includes butt stuff. I guess butt stuff ain’t gay as long as you don’t kiss. 

So while Kevin and Moose go to the river to platonically no homo skinny dip like bros they find Justin’s body. With a bullet hole in the forehead. Ooooh MURDER.

Jughead closes us out with more narration. The police take the body away while the entire cast watches. And then... they make their first arrest. CLIFFHANGER!