#what are we doing here marcia

[marciaillust]

Hnnnghhhh I wanna get the pirate yakuza game but I also want to wait a couple of months for all the critical fixes to come out because I don't believe a truly finished game dropped in this economy

[lovelyisadora]

Also I'm making a cerys+alther survive au rn!! They r having a good time <3

I hope thats not sarcasm because in my au they are very much not having a good time!

[silverwhittlingknife]

So you're a go to source for all things Dick&Tim bros and you tend to write primarily from Dick's POV. So, odd question, but if you were to summarize their relationship from his POV in FIVE panels which panels would you pick? Keeping in mind that one specific aspect of their relationship that you love needs to be clearly represented by each panel (loyalty, trust etc). I hope this is a fun challenge and not an annoying question so if you don't want to answer that's cool! Have a wonderful day!

No more talk. The same thoughts run through two minds... (SotB 29) / You're my equal. My closest ally. (RR 1) / I can't stop thinking how much I rely on him. (GoG 3)

25 Feelings Dick Has About Tim

This was such a kind ask & a cool challenge which I totally failed; here are TWENTY-five panels of Dick's POV on Tim sdfdsfds Look, I got carried away! Marcia and Cindy! The boys!!

OKAY SO BEFORE I GET TO THE PANELS A FEW NOTES:

WARNING THAT THERE ARE SOME NEGATIVE EMOTIONS IN HERE because I love conflict but but but you gotta remember those are not the final word!! They are complicated people and sometimes they get mad at each other BUT ultimately their relationship is so hugely important in both their lives & they love each other and rely on each other so much -!!! <3

Also I have CONCLUDING THOUGHTS at the end about what Dick's POV leaves out (mostly: a lot of Dick defending & protecting & supporting Tim, which Dick does instinctively but isn't very self-aware about most of the time)

I have loosely organized my list into 5^5 format (5 categories with 5 examples each!), so if you want to skip to a relevant one, here are the categories!!

Below the cut:

I hate him and find him infuriating (#1-5)

On second thought, he's endearing & fun (#6-10)

Grief is complicated & he's all tangled up in mine (#11-15)

I love him & think highly of him (#16-20)

I rely on him & though it's hard for me, I trust him (#21-25)

I hate him and find him infuriating (#1 - 5)

1) He thinks he’s so smart and can psychoanalyze me and Bruce, but he doesn’t know me at all, he should get lost (New Titans 61)

2) He thinks he’s so smart and can psychoanalyze Bruce but he doesn’t know Bruce at all, he should get lost (Gotham Knights 26)

3) He is so nosy about stuff that is MY business (Robin 0)

4) He sounds like an insincere suck-up half the time... but okay, fine, if you push him he's got a sense of humor about it (New Titans 65)

5) I'm sure he's a better vigilante than me. It's my fault for being a failure, but I resent him anyway. (Nightwing 9 - Dick's having a nightmare)

On second thought, he's kinda endearing (#6-10)

6) He worries too much and gets anxious so easily, but it makes him fun to tease (Robin 67)

7) I'm not that competitive - okay, so maybe I'm a little competitive, I gotta make sure he doesn't get a swelled head (Prodigal)

8) I'm supposed to be his favorite! It is not cool for him to be fanboying over my not-girlfriend's not-boyfriend!! (Birds of Prey 19)

9) We have fun together. I can kick back and relax when it's just the two of us. Plus I get to boss him around a bit. (Prodigal)

10) He’s always trying to reassure me, and I guess it's a little comforting, but also he doesn’t really get it. Or me. He makes excuses that he shouldn't, because he doesn't understand that I suck. (Nightwing 64)

Grief is complicated and he's all tangled up in mine (#11 - 15)

11) He reminds me of everything I try not to think about. Sometimes the memories are so strong it hurts to look at him. (Batman 441)

12) WHY IS HE BEING IMPOSSIBLE ALL OF A SUDDEN??? THIS IS SO FRUSTRATING (Nightwing 139)

13) We're the same. He says all the things I don't let myself think about. It's like arguing with myself. (Nightwing 139)

14) He thinks he gets to tell me what to do but he doesn’t, fuck him (Battle for the Cowl)

15) Life sucks, so what. I sucked it up so he should too (RR 1)

I love him and think highly of him (#16 - 20)

16) He’s the closest thing to a brother I’ll ever have.  If someone hurts him I will hurt them harder. (Nightwing 6)

17) I can't handle the idea of losing him. (Nightwing 97)

17) He’s so good and I’m not. I'm afraid I’m bad for him. (Nightwing 110)

18) He’s better than me, and it’s kind of a relief because I know no matter what he’ll be okay. (Gates of Gotham 3)

19) In my head he’s the responsible one.  (Gotham Knights 10)

I rely on him, and though it's hard for me, I trust him (#20-25)

20) I know I have to trust him but I'm afraid he'll make the wrong choices and get hurt (Nightwing 139)

21) I'm sure I know what he should do because I see myself in him - not that I can take my own advice, but he should (Blackest Night 3)

22) I trust him.  When I’m losing my grip on things, he pulls me back. (Gotham Knights 10)

23) I want him to trust me (Red Robin 12)

24) He can tell when I'm lying. Sometimes he sees my weaknesses better than I wish he did. (Detective Comics 874)

25) He’s always there when I need him. (Teen Titans / Outsiders Secret Files)

Final rambling thoughts:

TIM: Uhh, okay, so I'm just skimming this list - do you really trust me? you're not just saying that? - but anyway, I'm confused because you left some stuff out? Like some stuff that's kinda important? DICK: No? I think I got everything? TIM (starts counting on his fingers): The time I was having a bad day but then I called you. The time I got captured by Two-Face but then you saved me. The time I fell off a train but then you saved me. The time I fell off a building but then you saved me. The time I fell off a different building - DICK: I feel like you're trying to make some kind of point but I'm not sure what it could be.

SO THE THING IS, I put 25 panels in here and not a single one has Dick catching Tim when he’s falling!!! But I think that's a central motif of their relationship from Tim’s POV, not Dick’s. I love Dick, but in some ways I think he is spectacularly un-self-aware.

And I think he especially has a lot of blind spots about Tim. He kinda intermittently gets that Tim admires him, and he enjoys it in a playful I-get-to-boss-you-around way. But Dick tends to consistently underestimate all of his own good qualities & skills, and he meets Tim at a point in his life when he's especially down on himself & his abilities. And so he's unable to see his own influence on Tim, & therefore unable to fully understand a lot of Tim's priorities and loyalties and motivations, because you can't actually understand Tim without understanding Dick's impact on him. There's a fascinating moment in Bruce Wayne: Murderer when Dick's completely blindsided & upset to discover that Tim doesn't entirely trust Bruce, even though this has been a definitive fact of Tim's whole thing ever since he showed up with his Batman needs Robin theory, and Barbara has to actively remind Dick of the obvious-to-everyone-except-Dick fact that a lot of Tim's loyalty is to Dick, and Tim loves Bruce but feels free to be more wary of him. (And to give Bruce credit: this is not something he ever begrudges.) But anyway Babs points this out, and Dick manages to sorta process it for about five seconds, but he cannot actually accept it into his worldview so instead he discards it at the speed of light and goes off and has an argument with Tim instead sdfsfdsf

All of Dick's virtues - Dick's kindness at the circus and Dick's determination to fight through grief and Dick's rigid sense of morals and Dick's vigilante skills and every time Dick has ever backed Tim up or listened to him or protected him or saved him from something or just been casually kind to a stranger in Tim's presence etc etc etc - all these things loom really large in Tim's mental story of Who Dick Is, and What Dick And Tim's Relationship Is. Tim meets Dick before he meets Bruce, trusts Dick more than Bruce, aspires to be Robin instead of Batman. And so in Tim's default version of the story, Dick is the super-special and admirable hero and Tim is... nobody in particular, a tagalong outsider who's barely managing to be a hero, not part of Dick and Bruce's family and not part of their story, who, if he's VERY LUCKY and tries REALLY HARD, might be able to fight his way to proving himself and offering something to Dick that Dick will value, if Dick doesn't get fed up with him first.

But that's not Dick's version of the story!!!

Dick's version of the story is almost the exact opposite, a story where Dick's an outcast failure black sheep who's screwing up everything he tries, and meanwhile Tim is The Sudden New Perfect Robin Who's Better Than Me And Probably Bruce Loves Him More And Probably They Gossip About What A Loser I Am, mixed with a complicated edge of Tim Thinks He's So Smart But He Doesn't Know Me/Us At All. Dick gets much more attached to Tim over time, and Tim gets unnervingly better at the know-it-all psychoanalysis so then Dick gets to have complicated feelings about him being right instead of just annoyance at him for being wrong, plus Dick's relationship with Bruce improves a lot, so Tim stops feeling so threatening. But Dick never fundamentally changes his basic theory of their relationship in which Tim is highly impressive and capable, and Dick is not so much.

And so asking Dick about Tim is kinda like if you asked George Bailey to tell you about Harry Bailey in It's A Wonderful Life; like, you'll be there for five hours while he tells you how great Harry is, and how accomplished Harry is, and how he doesn't really get how or why Harry does the things he does, and maybe George does feel a little resentful or jealous sometimes, but that pales in comparison to all his admiration and trust for Harry who he loves so much, who's better than him in so many ways, and he's not gonna openly gripe but secretly he can't help but feel sometimes like he's such a failure in comparison to Harry, a perfect person who emerged fully formed from Zeus's head with all the virtues and also all the accomplishments, etc. etc. etc. --

-- and he will not actually remember the part where he changed and saved Harry's whole entire life unless you literally send him to an alternate timeline in order to force him to remember it. <3

[macfrog]

grilled cowboy like me chapter three

part iii of dbf!joel! parts i here and ii here. ask, dear readers, and you shall receive. i do just wanna also add a massive thank you to you guys for all the love on this series. every single like, reblog, reply, etc. means the world to me. i hope you enjoy this next chapter 💚 reader got joel quaking !!! 🥵

pairing: dbf!joel x fem!reader

summary: joel knows he shouldn't be looking at you the way he is, but you look so pretty on your knees; how can he say no?

warnings: 18+ minors dni!!! oral (m receiving), praise kink, jealous/protective joel, age gap (reader is 23, joel is 48), consumption of alcohol, cursing

word count: 4.6k

series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist

You know what he means. He’s in a lot more trouble than you are if you both get caught; he’s your dad’s buddy. He isn’t supposed to be fooling around with his best friend’s daughter. You think over what you’ve gotta be doing to him – all the glances when no one’s looking, the touching, practically fucking begging for him to make you cum earlier. It’s no wonder he’s trying so hard to stop himself every time, no surprise he’s doing all he can not to give in to you. And right then, you realize – That’s exactly what you want him to do.

You spend a few more minutes up in your room before you follow Joel out the door and downstairs. You’re a little flustered, okay? Your dad’s best friend just had you literally wrapped around his fingers, and now you both gotta head off to a friendly neighborhood barbecue you’re supposed to be hosting. All smiles. All, Anyone need a refill? All, No, I haven’t just totally been fooling around with Joel Miller.

The house is empty and voices feed in from the backyard. You push aside the shades and step out onto the bright patio, where a few of your neighbors are sitting. Joel stands between Hank and Rita’s chairs, and you amble over to his side.

You sense his body tensing as soon as you reach him, your shoulder brushing off of his deliberately.

“Hello, my girl,” Rita calls, taking one of your wrists in her frail hands. “I sure am glad to see you back on home turf.”

You smile a little awkwardly, placing a hand on top of hers. “It’s nice to see you, too. How’ve you been?”

“Still livin’, honey, still livin’.”

She lets go of you when Hank takes her up in conversation, and your attention turns back to Joel.

“Busy, huh? Lotta people came.”

“Mhm,” he grunts, taking a step away from you and folding his arms. You eyes skim across the new distance between you both, noting it.

“Joel, your Sarah,” Rita swivels to face him, “she’s home soon, right?”

Joel nods. “The seventeenth.”

Hank gives a nod. “It’ll be a fine summer havin’ both you girls back home.”

Joel shifts awkwardly, his eyes darting around the patio. He spots Bill across the pool, by your dad’s work shed, and excuses himself. You track him as he makes off, and feel your face reddening.

Your dad’s head and shoulders materialize through the sliding door to the kitchen and he calls on you, beckoning you in. You hesitantly wander over, a cloud of shame forming over your head that you hope he can’t see.

“Bill’s beer,” he adds a Coors to a tray filled with glasses and bottles, “Marcia’s iced tea, a Coke for Sam…Joel– Shoot, we ain’t got Joel anythin’. Reckon he’ll touch Coors?”

You flinch at the mention of his name, and instantly try to recover it. “I wouldn’t know, why would I know that?”

Your dad’s hands lift like you’ve aimed a shotgun at him. “Alright, cranky, jeez. Go back to bed, get out the right side this time. Here.”

He lifts the tray and slowly passes it over the island to you, the glass trembling.

“…you remember, now? Bill – beer, Marcia – iced tea, Sam–”

“– Coke, yeah, I got it. Go take a Xanax, dad, your hair’s fallin’ out.”

“And ask Joel what he’s after!” he calls as you slip out of the sliding door.

Marcia sits beside her daughter, Lisa, on the pool loungers. You bend your knees and lower the tray for her to reach her drink.

“Thank you, honey.” She grins gratefully as she lifts it off the shaking tray and you return her smile, then continue on.

Bill is stood at the other end of the garden with Joel, arms crossed, both listening to some story Arthur Kennedy’s telling about a mechanic he works with. Arthur Kennedy always kinda scared you, was always loud and drunk. Your dad and Joel used to deliberately come up with excuses to keep you and Sarah away from him at parties.

This time is no different. You approach the group of men from Joel’s right side, dipping behind his back to stand between him and Bill, safely separated from the raving storyteller.

“He says he’d just oiled it, I said, Benny, that engine’s drier ‘n a nun’s nasty!”

He erupts into a roar of laughter despite the silence of his companions, and you nudge the tray against Bill’s arm.

“Oh, darlin’,” he says, turning to you and giving you an affectionate smile as he lifts the beer. “Thanks, sweetheart.”

You smile back. Bill can be gruff, a bit of a loner, but he’s always had a soft spot for you.

“How you doin’?” he asks, taking a swig.

You nod. “Good. Back workin’ at Sal’s, so…living the dream.”

You can feel Arthur’s stare on you like the hot sun. You shift awkwardly from foot to foot, tray tucked under your elbow against your hip.

“I’ll bet,” Bill says. “He got you workin’ hard?”

“Not really. It’s a pretty quiet store. Uh, Dad wanted me to ask,” you turn to Joel, whose eyes are glued to the ground, “what you’re drinkin’?”

He shakes his head, palm hooked around the back of his neck. “I’ll get my own. Thanks.”

“Aw, c’mon Joelie,” Arthur taunts. You try to avoid looking him in the eye out of fear he’ll take you up on it, but he does it anyways. “Why don’t you just let this pretty little waitress of ours bring you a drink? Since she’s bein’ so sweet ‘n offerin’.”

Your eyes flit to Joel. His jaw is tense, his eyes dark as he stares down Arthur.

“You know what,” he says through his teeth, “I’ll take a Bud. C’mon, you’ll know where they are, right?”

“Wh– We didn’t get any–”

“Be in the fridge, I’ll bet.” He takes your arm and pulls you away from the duo, who resume conversation as you leave.

You’re hauled back into the kitchen so fast that you almost drop Sam’s soda.

“Joel, be careful!”

He lets go of your arm and watches Arthur from the kitchen window. “Scumbag,” he mutters.

“Do you suffer from short-term memory loss?” you ask, throwing the tray onto the counter. “Didn’t we have a whole argument in the store about me not gettin’ Bud?”

“Just had to get you away from him, talkin’ like that. Guy pisses me off,” Joel huffs.

“Who pisses you off?” your dad calls, appearing from the bathroom.

Joel shoots him a look. “Arthur Kennedy. What’s he doin’ here?”

“I couldn’t not invite him; I know he’s a dirtball. You stay away from him.” He points a finger at you.

“Very good,” Joel replies. “Great plan. Make it her problem to keep the pervert off her tail.”

“Pervert?” You scoff.

“You don’t hear him at Frank’s!” Joel rounds on you now, and you raise your eyebrows. “That waitress line wasn’t even half of it.”

Your dad chuckles, patting Joel’s shoulder as he passes. “I’ll keep an eye on it.” He wanders out to the patio.

Joel’s still full of rage. You watch him, not sure whether to move closer or let him calm down on his own.

“I think you’re probably overreacting a little. It was a creepy line, and I won’t be goin’ near him anyways, but it’s fine. I can dodge Arthur Kennedy.”

“Shouldn’t need to. Shouldn’t be put in that position.”

He doesn’t take his eyes off of the kitchen counter, palms pressed flat to the surface, shoulders hunched, breathing deep. He looks like a wild bear, like he could rip Arthur Kennedy limb from limb if only he’d just stroll through the sliding door.

You decide to give him some time to cool off.

“I gotta get this Coke to Sam. You good?”

“I’ll be fine,” he snaps, and you take that as your cue to dip.

When you reappear into the sunlight, a pair of hands clamp down on your shoulders, making you jump.

“Hey, stranger!”

“Sam!” you cry, clutching your chest. “You almost gave me a damn heart attack. Here, idiot.”

You hand him the soda, and he tilts it in your direction, a thank-you in the form of a toast.

“I’ve been meaning to drop by Frank’s since I got home, come pay you a visit.”

“I’ll get you a drink on the house when you do.” Sam smiles, blonde fringe gleaming in the sun.

“So, how’s it going?” you ask.

“It’s…going.” He laughs. “Was just talking to Hank about college courses. Figured I might apply. This bartending life is not for me.”

“Do it. Come be a graduate with me. I got a degree, forty grand of debt, and absolutely no prospects!”

Sam laughs. “Nah, you got a brain, you’re gonna work somethin’ out.”

You both take seats by the pool to catch up. Sam’s a nice guy; he was in your circle of friends at school, and, like Anna, always stayed in Austin while you and the rest up and left.

Your dad always thought he had a thing for you, being that he was male and you two were close, and your dad’s an old-fashioned man who doesn’t believe any good can come from two people of opposite genders being friends. But Sam’s a sweet guy, and his being here pushes Joel’s sudden change in behavior a little further back in your mind.

“I’m working later on, so I’m only staying for an hour or so. My mom says hi, by the way.”

“Hi right back. Is she doing okay?”

“Fine! She’s fine. As fine as she can be, I think. Y’know, my dad leaving wasn’t too great. She took it pretty hard. But we’re settled into the new place, she’s doing good. Do you…Did you scratch yourself, or somethin’?”

He points underneath your hair to the side of your neck and your fingers run across the skin, wincing a little over a particular spot under your jaw. A memory flashes before your eyes as the sensitive skin tingles and your eyes instantly lock on the culprit: emerging from the kitchen door, beer in hand, dark eyes scanning the garden for you.

When you lock eyes, he makes a passive expression and wanders off in the opposite direction.

“Uh– No, that’s weird. Well, I had a nap earlier. I might have scratched myself in my sleep, y’know?”

Sam narrows his eyes. He’s twenty-three, dumbass, he’s not an idiot.

You smile sweetly at him and scrape together some reason to excuse yourself, dashing off to the bathroom to examine Joel’s handiwork.

It’s only a little red, probably more noticeable in the sunlight, but still, you grab some concealer and dab it over the mark. Feeling exhausted from running around and pretty pissed off with Joel, you march back outside and throw yourself into a chair beside Hank.

“Your dad knows how to cook a burger,” he tells you, holding a napkin to his mouth. “Delicious.”

“I’ll grab one in a bit. Not really hungry.”

You spend a little time chatting with Hank and Rita, answering their questions about college, telling anecdotes about work, asking about Anna’s makeup business.

“That girl,” Hank shakes his head, “there ain’t no tellin’ her. I’m just her ol’ uptight dad.”

All the while you periodically glance up, across the pool to Joel, and each time, he’s staring right back.

When you get up to grab some food, his eyes follow you. When Sam pulls you in for a hug to say goodbye, he’s watching. When Arthur stumbles over to sit across from Hank, Joel’s figure appears like an apparition at the side of him. Across the table, an appropriate distance away, but keeping an eye on you.

It fills you with equal parts thrill and frustration.

You find yourself laughing extra hard at Bill’s comments, leaning your head on Marcia’s shoulder, leaping to your feet anytime Hank wants a refill, or Rita asks you to light her cigarette. All to get to Joel. All so he has to watch you be unbothered by him for the entire night.

The garden is darker, porch light attracting moths and flies, but a small group of your neighbors sits congregated under blankets on the patio still. You’re talking about New York with Lisa when you notice Joel lean in to your dad across the table.

“I’m gonna head, early start tomorrow,” he says, getting up from his seat.

“You remember your gas tank, Joel,” your dad tells him, nodding over to the grilling station.

“Hey.” You feel a nudge on your shoulder and look up to find his brown eyes looking down into yours. “Give me a hand, would ya? Loadin’ this into the truck.”

“You got it out just fine on your own.”

He calls you by name, and you know from his stern expression he’s serious.

You stand, shaking the blanket from your shoulders, and follow him over to the barbecue. He detaches the tank and picks it up. You wrap your fingers around the handle beside Joel’s, but when the two of you waddle out the back gate, you can feel he has most of the weight.

You reach his truck, shrouded in darkness from the dusk. He hands you the keys from his back pocket and you drop the tailgate, then Joel hoists the tank up by himself and wipes his hands on his jeans.

“What’d you even need me for?”

“Been weird today. Wanted to check you were alright.”

“Are you fucking serious?” You groan. “Are you talking to me or not?”

“Of course I’m talkin’ to ya.”

“Then stop being an asshole, okay? I’m bored of asshole Joel. I want my Joel back.”

He looks at you almost solemnly.

“Look, if you don’t wanna talk about what happened upstairs, we don’t have to, but–”

“’s not that I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Then what is it?”

The floodlight over the garage switches on and your back gate clicks open. Your dad ushers Rita out, coat draped over her shoulders.

“Just walkin’ Rita home,” your dad calls.

“See ya, hon!”

You wave. “Bye, Rita.”

When you turn back, Joel’s making his way toward the truck door.

“Oh, go fuck yourself,” you mutter under your breath, and silently storm back into the house.

You hear his truck pull away as you throw yourself down onto your bed. Fucking livid.

Alright, you agreed nothing happened. But then Joel went and started acting like something totally happened. If anyone had caught on to the way he was acting, they’d for sure know something was up.

The anger rolls around in your stomach; his avoiding you, the way he kicked off when Arthur made that comment, the way his eyes followed you around the garden afterward.

And worst of all, you fucking liked it. You liked him protecting you, didn’t you? You liked the way he couldn’t help himself, had to make sure you were out of reach of any danger. You liked peering over Sam’s shoulder to find his gaze frozen on you.

You sit up, hands either side of your hips on your mattress. You look down and notice what they’re resting on.

Joel’s flannel shirt.

You’re halfway out the door, shirt in your fist, before you even have time to breathe. You run into your dad in the driveway.

“Woah, woah, where we off to?”

“Joel forgot his shirt.”

“I’m sure he can do without it for a few days, kiddo.”

“I’ll just take it back to ‘im,” you call, hopping in your car before he has time to protest.

You’re at Joel’s in five minutes.

Knocking and waiting for him to answer might ruin the argumentative vibe you’re trying to set, so you fling his front door open and walk straight into his hallway.

The house sits in complete darkness, save for a small light flooding in from the room at the end of the hall. You wander up to it and find Joel sat at his kitchen table, staring down at some contract papers on the wood. Aside from the dull light over his head, the kitchen is dark, orange tinge on the walls from the streetlights outside.

He doesn’t flinch when your shoe scuffs his tile floor. Instead, he just flips the papers back over and sighs.

“Subtlety not in your nature, is it, kid?”

“You left this.” You throw the shirt onto the table.

His eyes scan over it. “Thought I told you to keep it.”

“Oh,” you sit down opposite him, “my mistake. I thought you meant keep it until you’d had your way with me. Thought once you’d dumped me I was to hand the flannel back.”

“Dumped you?” He raises his eyebrows, sitting back in his chair. “Hm.”

“Hm?”

“I wasn’t tryin’ to dump you. I didn’t mean for you to feel…dumped.”

“The most you talked to me all afternoon was to give me a grilling about Arthur Kennedy. All you did was stare at me, then ask me to help you carry a gas tank at the very end of the night.”

He scratches his beard, considering what you’re saying.

“I mean, I thought we agreed to act like it didn’t happen,” you continue, “I thought we were fine.”

“Fine? You think what we did was fine?”

You struggle to find words to reply. Sure, it was better than fine. And at the same time, it was a terrible idea.

“We…We were…We were just messing around.”

Joel almost laughs. “Messin’ around.”

“Yeah,” you protest. “I liked it, you looked like you liked it. What’s wrong with it?”

“I’ll tell you what’s wrong with it. If we do this, if we’re ‘messin’ around’…what makes me any different to…to Arthur Kennedy? Hm? Just another creep on the street, hangin’ around and flirtin’ with girls far too young for ‘im?”

“The difference is I actually want you to do it, Joel.”

His expression drops. He stands up, shoving the chair back, and wanders off toward the kitchen counter.

You twist around to watch him. “I want this. And I’m twenty-three fucking years old, I can decide for myself. Arthur is, like, sixty years old, anyway. And he ain’t even a good sixty – he’s all grey, wrinkly skin, greasy hair like he doesn’t know how to work his own shower–”

“Alright, kid, we’re digressin’ here.” Joel waves his hand.

You snap back to reality and shake your head to clear it of Arthur Kennedy’s leathery skin. “Sorry, sorry.”

“It’s just not a good idea.”

“What’s not?” You stand.

“This. Us. You ‘n me.”

“And did you decide this before or after you fucked around with me in my bedroom?”

Joel sighs, shaking his head and turning away. He places one hand on his hip, the other to the bridge of his nose.

“I mean…” You throw your arms up, finally at breaking point. “What are you doing to me?”

Your tone forces him to turn back. When your expression matches it, he approaches you, gently cupping your face in both hands.

“I’m tryin’ to rein this in a little, baby. I’m tryna be the responsible one here. You know how hard it is not to give in to this? To you?”

You know what he means. He’s in a lot more trouble than you are if you both get caught; he’s your dad’s buddy. He isn’t supposed to be fooling around with his best friend’s daughter.

You think over what you’ve gotta be doing to him – all the glances when no one’s looking, the touching, practically fucking begging for him to make you cum earlier. It’s no wonder he’s trying so hard to stop himself every time, no surprise he’s doing all he can not to give in to you. And right then, you realize –

That’s exactly what you want him to do.

Your head falls limp in his grasp. “Then, stop trying.”

Joel’s eyes trace over your face; down the bridge of your nose, across your lips, over to where your jaw meets his rough hands. He’s tossing the thought of it over in his head like a penny. Only there’s no right answer.

Heads, you call it off, and lose any chance of ever knowing what this is between you guys. Tails, you fall down the rabbit hole; secret, clandestine, forbidden rabbit hole, and risk losing…well, everything.

Is it worth that risk? Just to feel him on you again? To feel his lips across yours, hungry, demanding, his hips grinding into you, his hands all over you, the way he looks at you as you cum for him…

Suddenly, like the realization hits him at the exact same time as it does you, Joel’s eyes darken.

Yeah. It’s fucking worth it.

His grip becomes rough, shifting from your jaw to around your throat. He pulls you toward him, lips connecting, and your hands press against his chest.

His grasp drops, squeezing your hips, before one hand leaves to settle between your legs. He just can’t get enough, can he?

“Uh-uh,” you mumble against his mouth, “you had your taste earlier. It’s my turn.”

You push him back against the counter. He’s staring at you with nothing but lust behind his eyes. Without a word, you sink down, knees hitting the cold tile.

“Baby…” Joel hums when your hands find his belt buckle. You smirk at his voice; you’re too good to be true to him. Like he can’t believe what’s about to happen.

You undo his belt and pull it through the loops, letting it fall to the floor with a clink. Then your fingers undo his jeans, almost tearing them apart by the zipper with your eagerness to see him.

As you pull the denim over his hips, you feel his hand softly rest on the crown of your head. A quick glance up tells you he’s watching every single thing you’re doing, lapping it up like it’s the last thing he’ll ever see.

You can see the bulge through his boxers; it’s big. Bigger than you imagined, even with your hand stuffed down your panties.

You place a gentle kiss to his thigh and pull the waistband of his underwear down, and his cock springs free. You gasp a little at the size of it, feeling your mouth watering at the sight of precum on his tip.

Your hands wrap around it, clutching his girth. You pump him a few times in your hands and he tips his head back, mouth agape. His free hand grips the counter, steadying himself.

His tip oozes more precum and you wrap your lips around it, sucking gently. Joel groans, audibly. The most audible you’ve heard him yet. It drives you insane.

You push your lips down his shaft, his cock filling up your mouth to your throat before you even reach the bottom. You push down as far as your throat will allow before releasing him with a pop, saliva mixed with Joel all over your lips.

“Good girl,” he’s mumbling, eyes still screwed shut, hand still knotting in your hair.

You drag your tongue along the underside of his dick, closing your eyes. All you can think is Joel, all you can taste, smell, and breathe is him. Completely dumb for this man, cock stretching your mouth so good.

When you take him in down to your throat again, he begins moving his hips; fucking your mouth. You steady yourself, hands on his upper thighs, and let him, trying not to lower your hand to your cunt to relieve the ache quickly growing there.

The sounds he’s making are enough to make you cum by themselves. He’s panting, moaning, breathing your name, groaning whenever your cheeks hollow and you suck until he’s so close he pulls you off.

“Wanna take my time, baby. You’re doing so good.”

You pull him back into your mouth. He tastes like sweat and salt and Joel. He tastes perfect.

When he bumps the back of your throat and you gag a little, you notice Joel’s head snap down to check on you. His grip on your hair loosens, and you softly gaze back at him, eyes blown with lust, to let him know you’re okay.

You drag your lips off of his head, a string of saliva still linking your mouth to his reddened tip. You’re panting now, half-turned on, half-tired from accommodating the size of him between your jaw.

Your palms wrap around his length again, pumping and twisting slowly while your tongue flicks over his head. He grits his teeth, both hands now against the countertop, knuckles whitening the longer you go on.

When you let go of him and dip your head down to take his whole cock in your throat, he lets out a deep groan.

“Keep goin’, baby, keep doin’ that,” he’s groaning, your head bobbing up and down. “Don’t fuckin’ stop.”

His hand falls to the back of your head and he applies a little pressure, fucking into you again.

When you begin to feel him jerk, you lean back, hands helping him to his high as you hold his head to your bottom lip.

Joel’s hand never leaves your head as his cock twitches, filling your throat and coating your tongue in warm, salty cum. He’s calling your name, breath heaving and hips shuddering.

His length slides out of your mouth. When his orgasm subsides, he watches you lick your lips and swallow his load, before tucking his softening dick under his boxers and pulling his jeans back up.

You watch in a distant haze of ecstasy as Joel does his pants up himself and takes your chin in his hand.

Breathing heavy, you look up at him, eyes hooded. Waiting for permission to stand.

“C’mere,” he whispers, and your tired legs hoist you back up to height.

He envelops you in his arms, placing a kiss to your forehead and letting you lean into his chest.

You let your eyes fall closed as you breathe each other in.

“So good to me,” Joel mumbles against your forehead, and you lazily smile.

You could let him carry you up to his bed and fall asleep right then and there, you think. That is, until you hear your phone vibrating on the table.

“Fuck,” you groan, and Joel releases you from his grasp.

“Just makin’ sure you ain’t dead,” your dad chirps down the line.

“I’m still at Joel’s,” you reply, “just leavin’.”

“Don’t you be keepin’ him, you hear?”

You pretend not to, and get him off the phone as quickly as possible. When you turn back around, Joel’s stood with a smirk on his face.

“Go on. Don’t want to make him suspicious.”

You skip over and place a kiss to his lips, and he runs a hand through your hair.

“Like I said, we’re not doing anything wrong.”

“Just messing around,” he says.

----------

As you approach the front door, you pause for a second and compose yourself. Glance in the window to check your reflection, take a deep breath. The last thing you need right now is your dad noticing something’s different.

He’s sitting in the recliner watching baseball highlights when you stumble in. He doesn’t turn to look at you as you dive straight for the refrigerator to grab a bottle of water.

“Hey there. Joel get his precious shirt back?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, sure. Just couldn’t be bothered with it lying around my room.”

He hums absentmindedly. You stand by the kitchen island chugging the water, avoiding conversation with him and looking for an excuse to dismiss yourself to bed.

“Hey,” he says after a bit, “did you find the burgers too…salty?”

You choke on your drink. “The– Too– What?”

“The burgers. Not sure if I over-seasoned ‘em. Were they salty?”

“No. They were fine. They were fine.”

Dizzy with adrenaline, you feign sleepiness and bid him goodnight. When you reach your room and collapse onto your bed, your phone buzzes.

Your eyes scan over the text; your heart skips and you feel a flutter just south of your belly button.

Joel: You free Sunday?

----------

tag list: @yvonneeeee @brittmb115 @subconsciouscollapse (let me know if u wanna be added!)

[alittlebitofloveliness]

In defence of Steve Randle

Listen guys, Steve Randle gets a lot of hate in this fandom and as much as it pains me, it's valid. Everyone has their own interpretation of the source material, and fandom is supposed to be fun, so it is absolutely valid and ok to hate or love any character you want. You can hate Steve for many reasons or for no reason at all! This is fandom! That's ok! The story is for you interpret and love and play with and hate on to your hearts content. HOWEVER, to say that Steve Randle isn't an important character to the novel is simply not true, and to say that he hates Ponyboy requires ignoring or downplaying some pretty key moments of the book. This is especially true for those of you who love Dally but hate Steve, because Steve gets a lot of hate for being kind of a dickhead (which lbr, a lot of seventeen years old are, especially to their friend's little siblings) while Dally gets less for doing a lot worse (harassing Cherry, jumping kids, etc). This isn't to say that either character is better- they're both great, nuanced characters who have done bad things, but the fandoms attitudes towards them when they share a lot of characteristics is really telling. Even Ponyboy's narration about them is pretty similar- Pony doesn't particularly like Steve, and he was canonically scared of Dally, but they're both members of his gang and he doesn't hate either of them. You don't have to like Steve as a character, just like you don't have to like Dally or Darry or Tim Shepard or even Ponyboy, but he is important- and he doesn't hate Ponyboy, nor does Ponyboy hate him.

A really important moment in the book is when Ponyboy and Johnny defend Dally after he harasses Cherry and Marcia.

"Dally's okay," Johnny said defensively, and I nodded. You take up for your buddies, no matter what they do. When you're a gang, you stick up for the members. If you don't stickup for them, stick together, make like brothers, it isn't a gang any more. It's a pack. A snarling, distrustful, bickering pack like the Socs in their social clubs or the street gangs in New York or the wolves in the timber."

This line here is super important. Pony and Johnny were willing to defend Dally after he sexually harrassed Cherry and Marcia- soc girls who they clearly liked and were intimidated by- in the name of being a good friend, because that is what's important to them and their gang. If they're willing to do it in this context for Dally, you'd best believe they'd do the same for Steve, and him for them. Steve can and will rag on Ponyboy within the gang, but he'd never dream of bad mouthing him to anyone else. Dependability is important to the gang, and Steve would never publicly shit talk Pony, and vice verca. Regardless of their squabbles within the gang, at the end of the day they've got each others backs. They're buddies. We see evidence of this at the end of the book, when Pony grabs the bottle and threatens the socs with it.

"You really would have used that bottle, wouldn't you?" Two-Bit had been watching from the storedoorway. "Steve and me were backing you, but I guess we didn't need to. You'd have really cut them up, huh?"

The important thing here is that along with Two-bit, Steve was backing Ponyboy, no questions asked. Sure most of it boils down to Pony being a member of the gang and that deep rooted loyalty to one another, but the context for this scene is that Ponyboy was sitting on Steve's car waiting for Steve and Two to stop flirting with some girls. The three of them were hanging out- without Darry, without Sodapop. It's their school lunch break. We know Ponyboy has middle class friend's at school, or that he could've spent time in the school library. It was a deliberate choice to hang out with Two and Steve. He wasn't forced into it. Canonically, Steve and Ponyboy hang out. Never alone, but they're decent enough friends to hang out together in a group. Doesn't everyone have friends like that? I do. This isn't the only textual instance either where they hang out without the entire gang being present. Early on, Pony offhandedly mentions that sometimes Steve and Soda will buy him pop and teach him about cars if he hangs around the DX.

"I had walked down to the DX station to get a bottle of pop and to see Steve and Soda, because they'll always buy me a couple of bottles and let me help work on the cars."

He could've just said Soda's name here but he didn't. Steve buys Pony pepsi and teaches him about cars, even though he gets annoyed with him when Soda invites him to hang around with them too often. And honestly, who wouldn't? I'd be annoyed if my best friend always invited her little brother along with us, even if I liked the kid. Wouldn't you?

Now, we do need to address the elephant in the room. I'm talking of course, about this quote;

"I'd never tell Soda, because he really likes Steve a lot, but sometimes I can't stand Steve Randle. I mean it. Sometimes I hate him."

I feel like very often people forget the context this quote comes from, and so it's magnitude is blown way out of proportion. Ponyboy has just been jumped and then immediately scolded by his brother who constantly makes him feel foolish and unwanted. He's already scared, embarassed, and defensive and then Steve goes and makes him feel even more unwanted. Of course he wants to lash out. Of COURSE he feels like he hates Steve in that moment. I did even reading it. But Ponyboy doesn't truly hate Steve. This moment is PEAK fourteen year old having a rough night energy, it's not truly representative of Steve as a character or of Ponyboy's feelings towards him. In truth, Steve actually kind of likes Ponyboy and is at very least protective over him. This is evidence by the previous quotes, but also when Ponyboy comes back from Windrixville, and is worried about the state placing him in foster care;

"'No, [Ponyboy said] 'they ain't goin' to put us in a boys' home.' 'Don't worry about it,' Steve said, cocksure that he and Sodapop could handle anything that came up. 'They don't do things like that to heroes.'"

It's subtle, and not immediately obvious to the traumatized fourteen year old who is used to Steve's cocky nature, but this is both a reassurance and a very bold claim. Not only is Steve trying to look out for Ponyboy the way the rest of the gang models- by treating him like a kid, letting the 'adults' worry about grown up issues in a misguided attempt to protect Pony- he is also throwing in his lot to make sure nothing does happen. Based on this quote and the rest of Steve's characterization throughout the book its not hard to infer that Steve would fight tooth and nail to make sure Ponyboy stays safe with his family. Sure, part of it is gang loyalty, part of it is his devotion to soda, but part of it is because he and Ponyboy are buddies in their own right, no matter how much they fight. They are friends- and Steve is an incredibly important character for many reasons, but particularly to add depth to Pony's character, to the bond between the Curtis gang, and to highlight how the Curtis gang differs from the other gangs in Tulsa. Steve is just as much an outsider as the rest of the gang, and it's disingenuous to say otherwise no matter how much you may hate him as a character.

[zedecksiew]

How To Play The Revolution

So: I do not like the idea of TTRPGs making formal mechanics designed to incentivise ethical play.

But, to be honest, I do not like the idea of any single game pushing any particular formal mechanics about ethical play at all.

So here I am, trying to think through the reasons why, and proposing a solution. (Sort of. A procedure, really.)

+

Assumptions:

1.

Some genres of game resist ethical play. A grand strategy game dehumanises people into census data. The fun of a shooter is violence. This is truest in videogames, but applies to tabletop games also.

Games can question their own ethics, to an extent. Terra Nil is an anti-city-builder. But it is a management game at heart, so may elide critiques of "efficiency = virtue".

Not all games should try to design for ethical play. I believe games that incentivise "bad" behaviour have a lot to teach us about those behaviours, if you approach them with eyes open.

2.

The systems that currently govern our real lives are terrible: oligarchy, profit motive; patriarchy, nation-states, ethno-centrisms. They fuel our problems: class and sectarian strife, destruction of climate and people, spiritual desertification.

They are so total that the aspiration to ethical behaviour is subsumed by their logics. See: social enterprise; corpos and occupying forces flying rainbow flags; etc.

Nowadays, when I hear "ethical", I don't hear "we remember to be decent". I hear "we must work to be better". Good ethics is radical transformation.

3.

If a videogame shooter crosses a line for you, your only real response is to stop playing. This is true for other mechanically-bounded games, like CCGs or boardgames.

In TTRPGs, players have the innate capability to act as their own referees. (even in GM-ed games adjudications are / should be by consensus.) If you don't like certain aspects of a game, you could avoid it---but also you could change it.

Only in TTRPGs can you ditch basic rules of the game and keep playing.

+

So:

D&D's rules are an engine for accumulation: more levels, more power, more stuff, more numbers going up.

If you build a subsystem in D&D for egalitarian action, but have to quantify it in ways legible to the game's other mechanical parts---what does that mean? Is your radical aspiration feeding into / providing cover for the game's underlying logics of accumulation?

At the very least it feels unsatisfactory---"non-representative of what critique / revolution entails as a rupture," to quote Marcia, in conversations we've been having around this subject, over on Discord.

How do we imagine and represent rupture, to the extent that the word "revolution" evokes?

My proposal: we rupture the game.

+++

How To Play The Revolution

Over the course of play, your player-characters have decided to begin a revolution:

An armed struggle against an invader; overturning a feudal hierarchy; a community-wide decision to abandon the silver standard.

So:

Toss out your rule book and sheets.

And then:

Keep playing.

You already know who your characters are: how they prefer to act; what they are capable of; how well they might do at certain tasks; what their context is. You and your group are quite capable of improv-ing what happens next.

Of course, this might be unsatisfactory; you are here to play a TTRPG, after all. Structures are fun. Therefore:

Decide what the rules of your game will be, going forward.

Which rules you want to keep. Which you want to discard. Jury-rig different bits from different games. Shoe-horn a tarot deck into a map-making game---play that. Be as comprehensive or as freeform as you like. Patchwork and house-rule the mechanics of your new reality.

The god designer will not lead you to the revolution. You broke the tyranny of their design. You will lead yourself. You, as a group, together. The revolution is DIY.

+++

Notes:

This is mostly a thought experiment into a personal obsession. I am genuinely tempted to write a ruleset just so I can stick the above bit into it as a codified procedure.

I am tickled to imagine how the way this works may mirror the ways revolutions have played out in history.

A group might already have alternative ruleset in mind, that they want to replace the old ruleset with wholesale. A vanguard for their preferred system.

Things could happen piecemeal, progressively. Abandon fiat currency and a game's equipment price list. Adopt pacifism and replace the combat system with an alternative resolution mechanic. As contradictions pile up, do you continue, or revert?

Discover that the shift is too uncomfortable, too unpredictable, and default back to more familiar rules. The old order reacting, reasserting itself.

+

I keep returning to this damn idea, of players crossing thresholds between rulesets through the course of play. The Revolution is a rupture of ethical reality like Faerie or the Zone is a rupture in geography.

But writing all this down is primarily spurred by this post from Sofinho talking about his game PARIAH and the idea that "switching games/systems mid-session" is an opportunity to explore different lives and ethics:

Granted this is not an original conceit (I'm not claiming to have done anything not already explored by Plato or Zhuangzi) but I think it's a fun possibility to present to your players: dropping into a parallel nightmare realm where their characters can lead different lives and chase different goals.

+

Jay Dragon tells me she is already exploring this idea in a new game, Seven Part Pact:

"the game mechanics are downright oppressive but also present the capacity to sunder them utterly, so the only way to behave ethically is to reject the rules of the game and build something new."

VINDICATION! If other designers are also thinking along these lines this means the idea isn't dumb and I'm not alone!

+++

( Images:

https://forum.paradoxplaza.com/forum/developer-diary/victoria-3-dev-diary-23-fronts-and-generals.1497106/

https://www.thestranger.com/race/2017/04/05/25059127/if-you-give-a-cop-a-pepsi

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/WarGames

https://nobonzo.com/

https://pangroksulap.com/about/ )

[see-arcane]

Thoughts on why Carmilla is so fixated on Laura to begin with? I think the implication in the book was probably that Laura herself was a Karnstein though her mother's line and old folk vampire lore often had vampires drawn to attacking their family members. And what's a good Gothic Horror Story without a bit of incest!

Supposed that a Coppola style reincarnated lover thing could also work pretty well too.

The bit in question:

“And now you can read quite plainly the name that is written in the corner. It is not Marcia; it looks as if it was done in gold. The name is Mircalla, Countess Karnstein, and this is a little coronet over and underneath A.D. 1698. I am descended from the Karnsteins; that is, mamma was.” “Ah!” said the lady, languidly, “so am I, I think, a very long descent, very ancient. Are there any Karnsteins living now?”

That would be an extra gothic note of horror to throw on the pile.

But I'll admit that when I read it, my brain skidded over the incest angle and assumed that Countess Mircalla had married into the Karnstein family with the long-ago Vordenburg ancestor being one of her side consorts. Per the text, the guy wasn't her husband, but her lover:

He might have been termed a Moravian nobleman, for he had changed his abode to that territory, and was, beside, a noble. But he was, in truth, a native of Upper Styria. It is enough to say that in very early youth he had been a passionate and favored lover of the beautiful Mircalla, Countess Karnstein. Her early death plunged him into inconsolable grief.

Miss Mircalla, though shown targeting girls in the story's present, was apparently doing some bisexual juggling once upon a time. The fact that she wasn't wearing this guy's ring told me that she had a husband hanging around somewhere. So in that way, maybe there is something of a reincarnated lover angle hanging around for us to use.

Adaptation Possibility:

Mircalla wed a Karnstein once--a husband we never meet in Vordenburg's records, being that they were penned by his ancestor the Ancient Side Consort (who, notably, aged to death, never turned, and wrote his confession of hiding Carmilla's coffin to shield it before he croaked). But who was this spouse?

Was she in love with him and simply playing with extra lovers because she could? Was she after some pretty relative of the spouse's? We don't know. But we will guess, in tragic fashion, that where grief moved the old lover to hide her coffin, the loss of Mircalla simply killed them. Or worse, prompted suicide in a painful attempt to follow her into vampirism. Alas, it did not take.

Either way their soul was out there now, drifting like a leaf on the bloodstream of the Karnstein's lineage. It carried a secret psychic thread down the line until it landed and blossomed in little Laura with that first strange nightmare. Perhaps that is why Carmilla is here now; has been here, waiting through the century. Pacing her way through new throwaway trysts in undeath as she had in life, loving and devouring and tossing them aside, waiting waiting waiting.

Where are you? Where are you? Where are you? Come back, my love, you must come back, these others are not enough, have never been enough, come back come back come back!

And then, surprise. Here is Laura.

Laura who is her husband? Laura who is her bride in all but name? Whoever or whatever she was, is, Carmilla who is Mircalla recognizes that blood, mind, and soul.

Back, back, her love has come back..!

And she will not lose that love twice.

[chippedshake]

prompt request: cherry and bob on their first date WALK WITH ME ON THIS ONE

okay okay so I will definitely be writing this in the near future but for now here's the skeleton of my idea because I'm impatient ok (i've never written either of these characters so bear with me):

we open with a Marcia and Cherry scene

Cherry's getting ready to go on her date with Bob and she's kinda not all that excited because she's gone out with guys before and she always thought they were sweet and smart and nice and whatever but they turned out to just be assholes who were into her because she was pretty and popular

so even though she likes Bob, she can't convince herself that he's different from everyone else

I have developed a whole strategy for how she'll pick out her clothes

I love Marcia so even though she isn't in these bullet points you better believe she's gonna be in the fic

Then Bob appears

Cherry describes like an archetype of what first dates are usually like and Bob will subvert. every. single. point.

like 1st one is the guy always shows up with flowers that are always a pain because they die quickly and Cherry doesn't even like flowers all that much but lo and behold Bob shows up with a chocolate chip cookie from her favourite place

when she asks he says she mentioned once that she doesn't like flowers and finds them depressing and that they ran into each other in the bakery a couple months ago and she said it was her favourite place

Bob is down bad okay

1.5th point because I'm adding this later and don't feel like editing everything: the guy will always say "you look pretty" the moment they see her and Cherry doesn't like it because it feel artificial, like it's just their obligation to say it

Bob trained with Bev (idk if you've seen/heard of the musical but she's a Soc girl they made up to be friends with Cherry and Marcia) about what to say to a girl and compliments her earrings in particular and the colour combination

then the 2nd point is that they always bring her to a way too fancy restaurant that neither of them really like

They go out for a picnic and it's actually a really pretty setting and Bob is a terrible cook so he brought like sandwiches or something that his mom had to help him make

also 3rd point. guaranteed awkward silence when they have nothing to talk about, followed by the guy rambling about himself.

First question Bob asks: what do you wanna work as

and they talk about how Cherry wants to be a kindergarten teacher

then she asks the same question back and he says he wants to be a lawyer

when she asks why he just says his dad's a lawyer

maybe a cute moment where she says he’s his own person? idk

4th point: at some point the guy puts his hand on her thigh or something and she tries to wriggle out as subtly as possible

subverted, as usual

I'm sorry but Bob absolutely will earn the "stood out from the crowd" and "he was sweet" title, okay? In Ponyboy’s words: Cherry's smart. She wouldn't like him just 'cause he's good-looking

5th point: they're ridiculously smooth and are still flirting with her on the date, and it feels like they're trying to conquer her or something and it's incredibly uncomfortable

Bob stutters a bit and messes up and goes back on his words and will accidentally make like fifteen innuendos and apologise each time but Cherry likes it because it makes her feel like he actually likes her and is nervous (that's because it's true mijita)

finally, 6th point: they always try to kiss her goodnight even when she makes it abundantly clear they won't be seeing each other again

Bob actually fucking shakes her hand and goes to head back to his car

They end up hugging goodbye and make sure to coordinate a second date

the end

they're very cute and I love them. I hadn't ever thought about them really so thank you for the ask <3333

[hollowed-theory-hall]

do you think it’s strange that the uk monarchy is, as far as i remember, never mentioned in the books? it seems so weird to me since, for better or worse, it’s such an integral part of the concept of “britishness” - even if wizarding society seems pretty removed from muggle society, the monarchy has such a long history that it seems weird for the two societies to not intermingle in it. has wizarding society cut ties with it after the issue of the statute of secrecy? how many of the crown jewels are actually magical items? how *noble* is the house of black, really? were there ever kings or queens who were wizards?

there’s so many questions i have about this! such a world building plot hole!

Ok, so there are a lot of questions here and I'll try to answer them to the best of my ability. I will note there are a bunch of my own headcanons in this post. They are based on what we know about Wizarding History and what I know about irl UK history but they are still headcanons.

So, we know the Ministry of Magic was founded in 1707 after the Statue of Secrecy was enacted in 1692. The ministry was an immediate response to said statute since wizards needed a more uniform government to enforce their secrecy and cover up any slip ups. This means that before the Statue of Secrecy, the muggle government or monarchy earlier was the governing force for wizards as well as muggles. Yes, the Wizengamot already existed, but it seemed to behave differently from how it does in the modern ministry.

I wrote about the Wizengamot and how I believe it works along with some of its history here although I learned more UK history since, so this post is more accurate on the history front.

Now, I hope you won't mind me going into some medieval history of the UK in general, since the monarchy has changed over time, and in the early Middle Ages, the UK was comprised of multiple smaller kingdoms. Wales had 3 big kingdoms, but also a bunch of smaller ones (there were also warlords that took over abandoned Roman fortresses after the Romans left Britain in eastern Wales), England had the Anglo-Saxons settling in after the Romans left and creating multiple Anglo-Saxon kingdoms (like Wessex and Marcia). Scotland and Ireland were similarly divided. There were the biking invasions and a whole Viking kingdom in north-east England that's referred to as "The Dane Law". England did unite under King Aethelstan eventually, but with all these fractured kingdoms and warlords, I'm sure there were some wizards among them. Then, of course, there is the Norman monarchy and nobility established after the Norman conquests, which officially settled in 1066.

My point with all of this history is that like muggle society, wizarding society changed and evolved and that the monarchy in Britain wasn't the same throughout the entirety of history. So, the status of wizards and wizard nobility changed based on the specific time period we are discussing. But let's look at post-normans pre-Statue of Secrecy wizarding high society, and for that the Pottermore article about the Malfoy family is incredibly helpful:

Like many other progenitors of noble English families, the wizard Armand Malfoy arrived in Britain with William the Conqueror as part of the invading Norman army. Having rendered unknown, shady (and almost certainly magical) services to King William I, Malfoy was given a prime piece of land in Wiltshire, seized from local landowners, upon which his descendants have lived for ten consecutive centuries.

(from Pottermore)

Most nobility in England after the conquest were normans close to William who arrived with him and were given muggle noble titles, lands, and status. irl, the first Peverell in England, William Peverell was similarly given lands as he was said to be a son of William the Conqueror. That being said, some Anglo-Saxon nobility (mostly from the south of England since the northern Anglo-Saxon nobility were mostly killed after their rebellion) were kept in place by William as long as they swore fealty to him. Families like the Blacks and Longbottoms (both having Anglo-Saxon surnames) are likely among this leftover Anglo-Saxon nobility.

Now besides the muggle nobility, which is very much aware of wizards and even includes wizards (like the Malfoys, Peverells, Lestranges, and the Gaunts) we have the Wizangamot. The Wizaengamot, which I wrote more about in the post I linked, have likely been around and acted as a council of wizard nobility alongside the muggle one before the Norman invasion since around when Hogwarts was founded (around 990). The Blacks and Longbottoms (and the Notts who also have a Germanic name dating to the Dane Law I referenced earlier and King Knut who ruled that portion of England) were probably in this council.

We also know the Malfoys aren't in the Wizengamot in the books, meaning the circles of nobility for each council were different. This is easily explained by the Wizengamot being there earlier and being Anglo-Saxon rather than Norman. The name Wizangamot is, in itself, from old English which supports this speculation.

Since the Wizengamot continued existing after the conquest, I assume William the Conquerer left it as it is, wanting to ally himself with the local wizarding community rather than going to war with them. Wizards are, after all, really fucking useful, and irl he did keep some of the Anglo-Saxon nobility, so that's in character.

I think, after the conquest the Wizengamot either grew in the number of families there or that the families that opposed William were replaced with Norman wizard nobles that William trusted to represent him in the magical community.

The same Pottermore article about the Malfoy family also notes:

Historically, the Malfoys drew a sharp distinction between poor Muggles and those with wealth and authority. Until the imposition of the Statute of Secrecy in 1692, the Malfoy family was active within high-born Muggle circles, and it is said that their fervent opposition to the imposition of the Statute was due, in part, to the fact that they would have to withdraw from this enjoyable sphere of social life. Though hotly denied by subsequent generations, there is ample evidence to suggest that the first Lucius Malfoy was an unsuccessful aspirant to the hand of Elizabeth I, and some wizarding historians allege that the Queen’s subsequent opposition to marriage was due to a jinx placed upon her by the thwarted Malfoy.

(from Pottermore)

This means the monarchy throughout history was well aware of wizards and that the magical nobility was also muggle nobility and allowed in the same circles, but not vice versa. It seems to me, that the Malfoys had a muggle noble title from William I, and once the Statue of Secrecy was enacted they lost their title since they weren't also Wizarding nobility (Wizengamot members). (The Malfoys did keep all their money though).

Considering what Pottermore implies, it seems to me, there is a high chance of some crown jewels being magical. I mean, Lucius Malfoy I proposed to Queen Elizabeth I, and in my headcanon the aforementioned Willaim Peverell is the father of the three brothers of the Deathly Hallows, and in this headcanon, William Peverell is a half-blood wizard. Point is, yeah, the monarchy was well aware of wizards and seemed to have been in an alliance with the Wizengamot and the magical community. Although, I'm sure attitudes changed over time and differed from monarch to monarch with some being closer to the Wizarding community than others, but in general the Wizengamot and the wizarding community as a whole were under the governance of the muggle monarch.

It's actually possible there were a few wizards who ruled the UK (or any of the earlier kingdoms that eventually united) across the Isles's history. I think it's even likely if we're being honest. Egbert the Egregious, for example, might've been a king of Kent or Wessex (two of the older kingdoms before England united) as kings of the same name are recorded in both.

Once the Statue of Secrecy was enacted the wizards drew away from muggle society and wizards who held muggle noble titles likely lost them. But we know some muggles are aware of wizards' existence. We see at the beginning of HBP that the muggle Prime Minister is informed of wizards' existence and obliviated when they leave office. If I had to bet, the monarch (and perhaps more in the royal family) are similarly aware that wizards exist but aren't really involved. Like, the monarch probably knows but is only informed when something in the Wizarding World spills out to the muggle one. So, the monarch knows wizards exist, but not much more than that.

As for how noble the House of Black really was, I mentioned I believe they were nobles of the Wizengamot and Anglo-Saxon nobility before the Normans. I think all magical families in the Wizengamot that were around before the Normans would be considered: "Noble and Ancient". We see the Blacks being referred to as "The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black" compared to the Gaunts who are just: "House of Gaunt" which is how wizard nobility from after the conquest would be titled in my headcanon.

The name Gaunt is one that arrived in Britain with the Normans as stated in a survey of England's land done by William after the conquest (this survey is known as the "Doomsday Book" and it essentially details which land belongs to which lord. The book names both Norman lords and Anglo-Saxon ones and is a super useful historical document. It occasionally even mentions which Anglo-Saxon lord was deposed for the sake of a new Norman one). Gilbert de Ghent (standardized spelling wasn't a thing yet), named in said survey was the nephew of King William I's wife and as such received lands. A lot of them, actually:

"Few among the Conqueror's companions of arms were so splendidly rewarded as Gilbert de Ghent, who held one hundred and seventy-two English manors."

(Manors refers to actual manors, but also the land surrounding them. Basically, it refers to a family seat)

As the Gaunts were so favored, it's likely William I placed his nephew's family (who I headcanon at least some are wizards) in the Wizengamot. I believe the Slytherins married into the Gaunt family around the same time to add legitimacy to the Gaunts' status in the wizarding community.

The Malfoy Family that doesn't have a magical noble title and lost their muggle one is just referred to as: "Malfoy Family" and never "House of Malfoy" which again, to me, suggests this is how these titles work.

The aforementioned Doomsday Book does mention a William Black with 5 manors in Devon. William Peverell, as a son of King William I is mentioned to have 153 manors given to him and another 75 to Ranulf Peverell (not sure of the familial relationship). Reginald Cnut (older spelling of Nott) is also mentioned in the Doomsday Book to have 26 manors. Malfoy is a name JKR made up and isn't mentioned in the Doomsday Book or any other survey of UK landowners done in the Middle Ages. I did read a legend about one Guy Le Strange who participated in a tournament at Castle Peverell around 1083 and won the hand of Mellette, the niece of William Peverell. Although the Lestranges are not mentioned in the Doomsday Book and this legend likely dates from the 13th century a good 200 years after the supposed events it details.

So, to summarise, wizards don't seem to have or ever had a royal family of their own but there were most likely wizard royals throughout the various kingdoms that existed in history. Some wizards do have a noble status that I headcanon/speculate is connected to their status as members of the Wizengamot. These Wizengamot titles were also muggle titles and there were wizards with muggle titles that weren't part of the Wizengamot. These wizards probably interacted very closely with the muggle nobility and even shared family trees and were all probably considered half-blooded if you asked a Death Eater. After the Statue of Secrecy, the muggle titles became irrelevant and stopped being used leaving only the Wizarding titles behind (I headcanon "Ancient and Noble houses" refers to Anglo-Saxon nobility, and just "noble houses" refers to Norman nobility among wizards). The UK monarch likely is informed about the wizarding world to a similar degree as we see the muggle prime minister is informed. Blood purity probably only became relevant after the Statue of Secrecy as before that we see intermarriages with muggle royalty and nobility being practiced (I talked a bit about the timing of the witch hunts and the Statue of Secrecy here).

Sorry for the nerdy history talk, but, I answered this after a few weeks of medieval UK research and I have so many thoughts about medieval wizarding society in Britain.

[multifandomworldsposts]

omggg I know he lost in the poll but your HAVEEE to do ponyboy for kinktober🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽

Day 23 of Kinktober: Running Away With Ponyboy Curtis

Pairing: Ponyboy Curtis x fem!reader

Warning: sexual harassment, fighting, unprotected sex,

Y/N’s POV

Ponyboy’s life has been hard since his parents accident, his older brother accusing him in shit that doesn’t involve him, struggling with bills, and the socs.

I’m a soc but I hate a lot of the people who are in the socs, Cherry’s boyfriend Bob, he’s such an asshole to me and of course, the greasers. Some socs are sweet except for some.

One night, Dally, Pony, Johnny, and I went to the drive-in. We go to the seats and I see Cherry with Marcia and I sit next to them. Dallas starts to flirt with Cherry, Johnny, Pony, and I kept on telling Dallas to stop harassing her and of course Dallas ignores us. Eventually Dallas leaves, so Ponyboy and Johnny sits next to us. I feel safe around Pony but a lot of docs say that the greasers are dangerous, I know them some are dangerous but some aren’t and that the gang I know. Dallas comes back with food and drinks, he gives Cherry throws her drink at him and things get heated, Dallas tries to harass her again, Johnny tells him to stop, Dallas gets pissed off and he looked like he was about to beat something or someone but he walked away.

Eventually, the girls, Ponyboy, Two-bit, Johnny and I leave the drive-in and the socs came to us to start trouble.

“Y/N!? What are doing?” Randy says.

“Being with someone who isn’t you guys.” I said.

Bob and Randy look so pissed but Cherry stops them, Cherry tells us we can leave so we leave. Ponyboy takes me home, of course my parents are pissed that I missed my curfew, which it’s fucking stupid.

3 AM

I hear pebbles on my window so I go check who it is and it’s Ponyboy looking upset. I unlock my window and see what’s going on.

“Pony what’s the matter?” I whisper.

“Darry, he hit me. Run away with me.” He says.

“But, what about my parents?” I look behind me.

“I can’t go anywhere without you Y/N/N, please run away with me.” He says.

I look at him, I’m sorry mom and dad, I love you but, Ponyboy needs me. I grab a jacket and Pony catches me from the window and we ran to a park and I see a mustang in the distance, I hope to god it’s not the socs.

I see Bob, Randy, and the other guys I forgot their names walking towards us. Ponyboy protects me from them, shit goes down by Pony almost getting drowned and I almost get sexually assaulted. I get crazy by grabbing a knife and stabbed Bob, I stabbed my best friend’s boyfriend. Pony wakes up and he looks at me with some blood on me and he looks to see Bob dead.

“Y/N, what happened?” Pony asked.

“He tried to kill you and he tried to sexually harass me, so I killed him, I’ve never done this before.” I shakily said.

“We need to get out of here.” He said.

“But where?” I ask.

“I know where to go.” He says.

I believe him. We go to the bar where Dally lives and we tell him everything on what happened a couple hours ago. Dally takes us to his bedroom and he gives us clothes which surprisingly felt so warm. Dal tells us where to go to an abandoned church, so we go to where he said where to go. While we were in the train car, I almost fell asleep in Pony’s arms. He woke me up to tell me we’re at the location where the church is at. I made Pony ask a farmer where the church is and finally got to it. To be honest, I love abandoned places, but I hope we don’t get caught but we’re in the middle of nowhere.

“I’m glad that we’re finally alone.” I say looking around.

“I’ve been wanting to be alone with you for a long time.” He wraps his arms around my waist.

I look at his face and I see those doe eyes, I love him but my parents and the socs think he’s dangerous because of who he’s hanging out with but some of them are so sweet. Pony kisses me, I kiss him back, I turn my body to face him, he holds me tight to make us lay on the floor to make out, we were like this for hours, him giving me hickeys, me moaning, him kissing my body, and me tugging his hair.

While we were there, we dyed our hair, I turned mine into black color and I turned his hair blonde, which he looks cute in blonde without greasy hair.

Dallas visits us and gives Pony a letter from Soda. Dallas tells me that there’s missing posters of me everywhere in town, I can’t believe that’s happening. Dallas takes us to Dairy Queen which I really miss the food. We go back to the church which is on fire. Pony and I save the kids.

We go to the hospital and Pony and I are at the waiting room and Darrel and Sodapop come in so Pony ran to them. My parents come in and they look disgusted on what they’re seeing, my changed hair and seeing Ponyboy looking beat up.

My parents kick me out so the Curtis’ said it’s okay for me to live in with them. Again I’m happy that I’m with Ponyboy, he just makes me so happy and he makes me feel safe.

[apollosgiftofprophecy]

The Copollogism Essays - Part 2: The Assassination Scene

Part 1 (The Tent) ~ Part 2 (The Assassination) ~ Part 3 (Lester's Reaction) ~ Part 4 (Leo's Questions/Seeing Commodus Again) ~ Part 5 (The Arena) ~ Part 6 (The Waystation) ~ Part 7 (The Yacht) ~ Part 8 (The Final Moment)

Analysis: Part 1 (Apollo and Commodus as Individuals) ~ Part 2 (Toxic Relationship?) ~ Part 3 (Codependent - Or Is It?) ~ Part 4 (Other Thoughts)

Oh ho ho ho. Here it is. The One You Have Been Waiting For.

A little personal background–

This was the scene that I remembered that made me pick the Trials of Apollo books back up last year.

It was this scene that brought me back into the fandom.

Everyone say thank you to this scene because it is a masterpiece and I sure damn well hope I do it justice.

Anyway. Let us begin~

I KNOW WHAT YOU are thinking. But, Apollo! You are divine! You cannot commit murder. Any death you cause is the will of the gods and entirely beyond reproach. It would be an honor if you killed me! I like the way you think, good reader. It’s true I had laid waste to whole cities with my fiery arrows. I had inflicted countless plagues upon humanity. Once Artemis and I slew a family of twelve because their mama said something bad about our mama. The nerve!  None of that did I consider murder.

None of that, none of the deaths Apollo has caused, did he consider murder.

But Commodus’s he does.

This has always stuck out to me, even when I first read the books. 

The praetorian prefect Laetus had pulled me aside only an hour ago: We failed at lunch. This is our last chance. We can take him, but only with your help. Marcia, Commodus’s mistress, had wept as she tugged at my arm. He will kill us all. He will destroy Rome. You know what must be done!  They were right. I’d seen the list of names—the enemies real or imagined whom Commodus intended to execute tomorrow. Marcia and Laetus were at the top of the list, followed by senators, noblemen, and several priests in the temple of Apollo Sosianus. 

Something that was pointed out by @amiti-art was how Apollo’s priests were set to be killed. This is baffling for a couple reasons: 1) Apollo is well known to deliver terrible punishments onto those who even treat his priests with disrespect (Agamemnon in The Iliad got a nice plague for his disrespect); and 2) Why would Commodus do this? Why would he specifically kill Apollo’s priests?

I suggested it could be a way to “get his attention” so to speak. Because remember, in Part 1, we know Apollo left after Marcus has died. And now, Commodus is deep into his paranoia and lashing out at everyone and everything he perceives as a threat.

Perhaps something triggered him to think the priests were some sort of threat, or maybe he’s so far in his delusions that he thinks he can have everything be “fixed” if he draws Apollo back to him. As we saw in Part 1, Commodus looked to Apollo first at the news of Marcus’s death— maybe even now, he’s trying to rebuild that bridge because everything’s falling apart.

If so…he did not think it through 😬 I mean… *eyes the plague Agamemnon got; Clytemnestra being killed by her own son for murdering Cassandra* yeah…things don’t end well for those who mess with the people in Apollo’s cult.

I pushed open the bronze doors of the emperor’s chambers. From the shadows, Commodus bellowed, “GO AWAY!”  A bronze pitcher sailed past my head, slamming into the wall with such force it cracked the mosaic tiles. “Hello to you, too,” I said. “I never did like that fresco.”

*wheeze from alder* I get the feeling there was very casual banter in their relationship lol

Commodus knelt on the floor, clinging to the side of a sofa for support. In the opulence of the bedchamber with its silk curtains, gilded furniture, and colorfully frescoed walls, the emperor looked out of place—like a beggar pulled from some Suburra alley. His eyes were wild. His beard glistened with spittle. Vomit and blood spattered his plain white tunic, which wasn’t surprising considering his mistress and prefect had poisoned his wine at lunch.

This whole paragraph really gives you a glimpse into Commodus’s mindset, even if we don’t see his thoughts. He is quite literally at his wit’s end. His mistress and prefect have just tried to assassinate him. Everyone is against him. He is completely alone; no father, no lover.

Except Narcissus.

But if you could look past that, Commodus hadn’t changed much since he was eighteen, lounging in his campaign tent in the Danubian Forest. He was thirty-one now, but the years had barely touched him. To the horror of Rome’s fashionistas, he had grown his hair out long and had a shaggy beard to resemble his idol, Hercules. Otherwise he was the picture of manly Roman perfection. One might almost have thought he was an immortal god, as he so often claimed to be.

Not very important but short-haired teenaged Commodus canon 👍

Sike, this can be important because it is INTERESTING that Commodus deviates from the traditional Roman culture here. He grows his hair out, as well as a beard. Roman men didn’t typically do that.

But you know who does?

Greek men. Such as Heracles (which is why Commodus does so.)

I find this VERRRYYY interesting, especially paired with his relationship with Apollo. Because if you look at Commodus…he’s not very Roman, no? I’d say he’s more Greek-flavored than Roman.

Because here’s the deal: Besides the longer hair, Commodus (historically, at least) also liked to sing and dance. That was 100% accepted for men to do in Greece, but in Rome?

Rome had a very convoluted attitude towards singing and dancing. It was essentially “oh the upper class OBVIOUSLY can get SUPERB teachers for it, but if they're TOO GOOD AT IT they are NO BETTER THAN A WOMAN OR A SLAVE!!!!”

The kicker here is that the Greeks were typically slaves within Rome. They were regularly hired by the Roman elite to perform music and dances.

(Interesting how Apollo is their god, too.)

Out of all the Romans, out of the Roman elite…Apollo falls in love with the most Greek one he can find.

What’s even better is that Commodus continues the trend of ‘Apollo’s lovers are related to his domains’ because of music and dance.

That is what they bonded over. You bet Apollo made Commodus feel better over what he liked doing when the society he lived in looked down on it.

My poor, precious heart 🥲

“They tried to kill me,” he snarled. “I know it was them! I won’t die. I’ll show them all!”  My heart ached to see him this way. Only yesterday, I’d been so hopeful. We’d practiced fighting techniques all afternoon. Strong and confident, he’d wrestled me to the ground and would have broken my neck if I’d been a regular mortal. After he let me up, we’d spent the rest of the day laughing and talking as we used to in the old days. Not that he knew my true identity, but still… disguised as Narcissus, I was sure I could restore the emperor’s good humor, eventually rekindle the embers of the glorious young man I’d once known. And yet this morning, he’d woken up more bloodthirsty and manic than ever.

Ouch. Owie. This hurts.

Time to discuss Apollo’s disguise now.

Narcissus, now, was a real person. But it appears in the RRverse, Narcissus was Apollo the whole time. And Apollo’s goal here was to, and I quote; “restore the emperor’s good humor [and] eventually rekindle the embers of the glorious young man I’d once known.”

Apollo initially disguised himself because he wanted to stop Commodus from going down his bloody, awful path. Apollo had been keeping such a close watch on what was happening that he knew things were getting bad enough to warrant his interference, with the hope of steering his former lover away from a dark fate.

*insert ‘I can fix him!’ meme here* ah, Apollo. If only you could RIP

Also wow, Commodus wrestled Apollo— Apollo, who beat Ares in a wrestling match— to the ground? And would have broken his neck if he were mortal?

I’m guessing Apollo was holding back here, considering…well, considering the ending of this scene heh. But I doubt Apollo was a slouch even holding back, so Commodus is probably very good at hand-to-hand combat. Sheer brute force is exactly his style.

I approached cautiously, as if he were a wounded animal. “You won’t die from the poison. You’re much too strong for that.”  “Exactly!” He pulled himself up on the couch, his knuckles white with effort. “I’ll feel better tomorrow, as soon as I behead those traitors!”  “Perhaps it would be better to rest for a few days,” I suggested. “Take some time to recuperate and reflect.”  “REFLECT?” He winced from the pain. “I don’t need to reflect, Narcissus. I will kill them and hire new advisors. You, perhaps? You want the job?”

It’s really telling how much Commodus trusts Apollo— that is to say, Narcissus— here.

It’s also telling how Apollo— his lover— is using his father’s words to get him to stop.

Marcus Aurelius’s advice is coming out of Apollo’s mouth, but Commodus has no idea; he does not know it’s Apollo telling him this.

Not until it’s too late, that is. When it’s revealed once and for all that he has no intention of stopping.

But it does make you wonder what Commodus would have done if he had known it was Apollo. Would the combined might of his father’s advice and his lover be enough to prevent him from killing more innocent people?

Or would it have only made things worse?

I did not know whether to laugh or cry. While Commodus concentrated on his beloved games, he turned the powers of state over to prefects and cronies… all of whom tended to have a very short life expectancy. “I’m just a personal trainer,” I said. “Who cares? I will make you a nobleman! You will rule Commodiana!” I flinched at the name. Outside the palace, no one accepted the emperor’s rechristening of Rome. The citizens refused to call themselves Commodians. The legions were furious that they were now known as Commodianae. Commodus’s crazy proclamations had been the final straw for his long-suffering advisors.  “Please, Caesar,” I implored him. “A rest from the executions and the games. Time to heal. Time to consider the consequences.” He bared his teeth, his lips specked with blood. “Don’t you start too! You sound like my father. I’m done thinking about consequences!”

Apollo is once again putting on his Marcus Aurelius hat.

But once again…Commodus does not listen. He’s done listening to wise counsel. He’s done doing what other people have told him to do.

He’s emperor, after all.

Nobody can stop him. He’s blessed, after all. Who would even try?

My spirits collapsed. I knew what would happen in the coming days. Commodus would survive the poisoning. He would order a ruthless purge of his enemies. The city would be decorated with heads on pikes. Crucifixions would line the Via Appia. My priests would die. Half the senate would perish. Rome itself, the bastion of the Olympian gods, would be shaken to its core. And Commodus would still be assassinated…just a few weeks or months later, in some other fashion. I inclined my head in submission.  “Of course, Caesar. May I draw you a bath?”

Read no further if you wish for a happy ending 😢

Commodus grunted assent. “I should get out of these filthy clothes.”  As I often did for him after our workout sessions, I filled his great marble bath with steaming rose-scented water. I helped him out of his soiled tunic and eased him into the tub. For a moment, he relaxed and closed his eyes. I recalled how he looked sleeping beside me when we were teens. I remembered his easy laugh as we raced through the woods, and the way his face scrunched up adorably when I bounced grapes off his nose.

Their relationship was more carefree in nature. It was more teenager-esque, with Apollo even saying “when we were teens”, despite the fact he is merely a teen in body.

Even so…

I sponged away the spittle and blood from his beard. I gently washed his face. Then I closed my hands around his neck. “I’m sorry.”  I pushed his head underwater and began to squeeze. 

Apollo begins with gentleness. With cleaning him off. He doesn’t immediately kill him— perhaps to give both of them one last moment of peace.

But then that gentleness turns to murder.

Commodus was strong. Even in his weakened state, he thrashed and fought. I had to channel my godly might to keep him submerged, and in doing so, I must have revealed my true nature to him. He went still, his blue eyes wide with surprise and betrayal. He could not speak, but he mouthed the words: You. Blessed. Me.

Apollo is forced to reveal himself in all his glory— and in that moment, they are both aware of his betrayal. Commodus is floored by what he sees— by who he sees.

This isn’t merely his trainer who he has grown to trust.

This is his lover who he has loved for decades.

The lover who blessed and reassured him that everything would be fine.

But it’s not.

Apollo’s the one with the hands around his throat, and all Commodus can do is throw his promise back in his face: You. Blessed. Me.

*and this is the moment everyone knew: they started bawling*

Tissues, anyone?

The accusation forced a sob from my throat. The day his father died, I had promised Commodus: You will always have my blessings. Now I was ending his reign. I was interfering in mortal affairs—not just to save lives, or to save Rome, but because I could not stand to see my beautiful Commodus die by anyone else’s hands.

And even at the end, we can still see the toxicity that permeates their relationship.

Commodus took Apollo’s love and support for granted. He thought he could do anything he wished because he had the love and blessing of a god.

Apollo loved Commodus so much that he couldn’t stand the thought of someone else killing him. He could have kept his own hands clean of the kill, but he did not.

Because he wouldn’t be able to bear it to allow someone else to do the deed.

His last breath bubbled through the whiskers of his beard. I hunched over him, crying, my hands around his throat, until the bathwater cooled.

Even after Commodus is dead and gone, Apollo stays sitting there. Crying. He is utterly distraught by what he has done, and will continue to torment himself over it.

Perhaps even for eternity.

Britomartis was wrong. I didn’t fear water. I simply couldn’t look at the surface of any pool without imagining Commodus’s face, stung with betrayal, staring up at me.

That, my friends, is how you write an ending. That is how you write a tragic, doomed romance.

This is the deepest romance in all of Rick’s books. And we’ve only gotten through the flashback scenes.

We — and Rick — are merely getting warmed up.

[damthosefandoms]

🗣️✨Speak on it friend- who’s going and staying for both socs and the Curtis gang

people who stay: soda, two-bit, steve

people who go (although none of them end up doing that): darry, pony, johnny, dally

not doing the socs only bc. i have no idea. they have the money to come and go as they please, and the only ones i could say anything about are cherry, paul, and maybe marcia. all of whom i think i'm too biased bc i'd want them staying bc the people i ship them with ended up staying.

paul is a special case bc he has no reason to stay and i think he leaves for a while before moving back, except he never gets over darry curtis. actually he and darry are just whatever is implied for them in this fic (by @qprpbj) lol we love old men peril.

explanations on my thoughts below the cut bc this might get long lol

I cannot imagine a world where Sodapop Curtis willingly leaves Tulsa for good. I am a sucker for roadtrip AUs—seen a couple ones that have incredible vibes. a few posts like this one here (by @horsegirlsodapop) and fics like here (by @your-unfriendlyghost who is lowkey one of my favorite creators in this fandom lol) in particular. Like okay, Vietnam is one thing—I don't always love him going to war and I don't know I'd say it's in my canon that he goes to war (mostly bc the way @haljordangreenjedi and i made up our vietnam soda au is extremely convoluted and specific to us and the fic i posted about it here is all you guys get to see of it. iykyk). But Soda was born in Tulsa. He lives and breathes Tulsa. He will grow up, get married, have kids, grow old, and die in Tulsa. And he'll be happy about it.

Two-Bit just simply does not have the vibes of wanting to leave. He's lazy, he mooches off his friends—but he is unwaveringly loyal to them, as well as his mother and sister, I think. He seems like the type to be extremely close to his family and honestly I think that for him, it all boils down to doing the one thing his dad didn't: sticking around, forever.

Steve is weird bc Steve is the only one of the gang—excluding Darry & Pony��who I can see going to college in any way, shape, or form. I like to headcanon that Evie's dad owns the DX and the guy really likes Steve, so he pays for the kid to go to college enough to get a business degree to take over when he retires. I don't know where Steve would go; if he gets a scholarship somehow, if he leaves town (I don't think he would go out of state tho), if he goes to community college—but I think he values education enough to do it. But he and Soda end up running the DX for the rest of their lives. Steve might go for a bit but I don't think he stays away very long.

When Darry was younger, all he wanted was to go; he lost his chance. And now I think because of the way his circumstances changed, he'll always yearn for the knowledge of what could've been, but deep in his heart, he's knows he's home. His brothers are here and they always will be. I don't think he ever moves out of their house. It becomes a generational home and the extended family comes and goes as they please. All the holidays are celebrated there, all the birthdays, it's home. Darry ca't get away from it. But he always wonders, and I think once Pony publishes his book, he pays for Darry to go to college, but by that point Darry just goes locally. He and Pony will travel the world at some point, more than Soda ever could've dreamed of—they did take Soda surfing in California though, and took him to get pizza in New York, which were the top two things on his bucket list. Darry loves it, but as he gets older, he realizes he can't ever leave Tulsa, and Tulsa can't leave him.

Ponyboy has to leave. He has to. He wants to, he dreams of it, it's all he is. I think he goes to college and publishes his book—and a few others—and he travels the world. I personally think he was a journalism major and used his book money to go on all kinds of study abroad trips; I think he even went to Vietnam as a member of the press (but that's a whole other thing). He told his story and he wants to tell other peoples', too. He wants to know EVERYTHING he can, see the world from very angle—and he wants to live his life as if every day is a new beginning. He's staying gold. I think he lives—or is based out of—New York for a while, but honestly, he's in Tulsa more often than not and as he gets older he ends up settling down there (whether that's with a family of his own or a significant other is up to interpretation—I can't settle on how I think Pony's future goes in terms of relationships and/or family. I know I don't think he ends up with Cathy Carlson though LMAO this boy is GAY), maybe even back in the old house with Darry. I think they're a lot closer in their old age.

Johnny and Dally... they're dead. But they're both hard to decide for in a timeline where they live. Realistically, Johnny would probably not have an easy time leaving if he lived due to how the world treats people with disabilities. Now, if Bob never died, it's really up in the air. He and Pony might've run away. Sometimes I wonder if Johnny would've up and left with Dally at some point—Dally is not the type to stick around anywhere, unless he has a very good reason to, and Johnny kind of seems to be that reason. I think Johnny's problem is he wants to go but would stay, for the same reasons he won't run away from his parents. They're both a hard call.

[silverwhittlingknife]

Dick Grayson & Tim Drake: Reading Guide

Once upon a time, two kids met at a circus... and the rest is history.

table of contents:

who are these losers?

what's fun about them?

why a reading guide?

how does the reading guide work? (tl;dr: there are quick recs, a selected chronological list, and a complete chronological list)

where is the spreadsheet? (x)

who are they?

Dick Grayson and Tim Drake: the first Robin and the third Robin.

Also known as the circus boy and the earnest computer geek, the hotshot and the pretender, the slighted prince and the new apprentice, the acolyte and the hanger-on, Nightwing and Robin, Batman and Robin, Batman and Red Robin, and Marcia and Cindy (BftC 3, N 110 & 119, B 617, DC 677, Detention Comics 1, R 168, RR 14).

Or as Jason calls them, "You idiots" (TT 47).

More seriously, Dick Grayson is one of the most enduring comic characters ever - he's been around since Detective Comics 38 in 1940! He's Batman's first ward, first partner, and eldest son. When Dick's parents are murdered, Bruce identifies with him, comforts him, and takes him into his home, where Dick ultimately volunteers to join his crimefighting mission. By candlelight, the Dynamic Duo swear an oath: That we two will fight together against crime and corruption and never swerve from the path of righteousness!

Tim Drake was created in Batman 436 and formally introduced in Lonely Place of Dying. He's a lonely kid who imprints on Dick when they meet as children, and Dick hugs him and promises to do a quadruple somersault for him; he's horrified and worried about Dick in the aftermath of the Graysons' murder, which he witnesses. He watches Batman comfort Dick, deduces Robin's secret identity, and becomes a secret devotee of the Dynamic Duo. Though he admires them both, it's ultimately Dick who he idolizes and tries to emulate when Bruce is spiraling: Batman needs a Robin. No matter what he thinks he wants.

Their slow-burn strangers-to-friends-to-brothers-to-antagonists-to-brothers-again arc develops from 1989 to 2011, and it's one of the standout examples of the DC Post-Crisis era's commitment to gradual character development and careful continuity.

what's fun about them?

SO MUCH!!! But one of my favorite things is their friendship has RANGE!! They go from sweet kids to tense strangers to loyal friends to brothers over the course of real-life years and tons of comics. They fight, they tease each other, they get protective, they worry, they chase each other down, they walk away... there's just so much story here.

They meet at the circus as children, when both their parents are still alive. They meet again, years later, when Bruce is reeling from Jason's death and they team up to stop him from hurting anyone. In the early days, they're brothers-in-arms and never quite family - instead, Dick is Bruce's loyal-but-estranged eldest son, and Tim is Bruce's new loyal-but-wary apprentice, with his own family and his own semi-estranged dad. The slow process of evolving toward found-family is a delight to watch.

They work together as Nightwing and Robin over four years of in-universe time and for over twenty years of real-time, gradually forging a fierce bond of friendship and, ultimately, brotherhood.

Then Bruce dies, and they have some huge fights.

But even when they're estranged, even when they're not speaking... they never stop loving and trying to protect each other. No matter what.

why a reading guide?

Quotes from New Titans 60 and Batman 441 (1989), Nightwing 25 (1998), Nightwing 69 (2002), Red Robin 1 (2009), Red Robin 12 (2010), Gates of Gotham 3 and Detective Comics 874 (2011)

I think reading guides are cool!! And somebody asked me about one!

More generally, I think reading guides are always helpful, but especially with Dick & Tim... you know, when I first started out trying to read their comics, I got kinda overwhelmed. Because on the one hand there's SO MUCH CONTENT - they're one of the classic enduring friendships in all of post-Crisis! their relationship is a HUGE BIG DEAL! they're constantly calling each other and hanging out and supporting each other and arguing!

But at the same time, all of that content is scattered across lots of different books, in Robin and Nightwing and Detective Comics and Batman and New Titans and Titans and Young Justice and Teen Titans and Shadow of the Bat and Gotham Knights and Birds of Prey and Showcase and DC Holiday Specials and so on and so forth. There's not One Definitive Place where you can read The Dick-and-Tim Story.

So: a reading guide!

how does the reading guide work?

Dick and Tim are in over 400 comics together and over 800 comics each separately. That's a whole lot of comics! So I've made a spreadsheet with three different reading guides, depending on how interested you are in these two:

1-5 Quick Recs: If you just want to check out a couple comics, check out these quick recs for "if you like fluff," "if you like angst," etc.

200 Starter Comics: If you want to do a comprehensive, chronological Dick-and-Tim read without committing to all the comics, this list has some of their major team-ups plus some solo comics so you know what the heck is going on. Most of them have a "sneak peek" you can use to decide if you want to read it.

Big List: A complete list of all the comics Dick and Tim are in, in chronological order, with links to dc.fandom and to DC Universe Infinite. It has filter views.

This spreadsheet was a labor of love, obsession, and SO MUCH PROCRASTINATING doing other things. I update it sometimes.

where is the spreadsheet?

it's here. have fun <3

[dallasgallant]

As I re-read the novel I find myself appreciative and disappointed. As it’s really damn close a lot of the time, some parts are word for word and there’s little details here and there but then it’ll loose these pretty important moments. The biggest for me being how cut down the drive in scene is. Not only because there are some funny quippy parts to it but also so much world building and character work.

The whole reason Marcia cracks her “you just burry him no sweat.” joke is because Greaser fighting is wildly complicated! It’s fascinating to how two bit explains it.

To a greaser violence becomes almost like another form of communication, blowing off steam, solving an argument- getting the anger out of the way now so there’s less grudge holding and more solidarity. They have self made rules and honor that holds them to their system of fairness. You back up your friends when they ask you but sometimes it’s their fight alone— Dally’s getting what’s coming to him for slashing those tires, they ain’t cheap and it’s a poor community. Tim will whip him and they’re back to buddies by the end of the night. Big fights, real fights - rumbles- are organized with rules and this weird sense of civility.

There’s this weird mix of “Boys will be boys” roughhouse with “got to be tough to survive” raised in violence survivalism.

Meanwhile,the Soc’s are a lot less warm with their approach to fighting its “cold and impersonal” like they handle all things. Though honestly I’d argue it’s a lot more personal— not fighting for communication but because one can or to exert power. They don’t fight fair, they hold those grudges and there’s no solidarity to that. Ponyboy describes them best as “a snarling pack”. Their violence is rooted in the same systems and misfortunes Greasers face - in that what perpetuates violence is a bit universal. The difference is a greaser will help a guy up and maybe get him an ice pack where as a Soc will just leave you in the street for the sake of appearance or dominance, it’s not enough that they beat you. Nothing is ever enough, like Cherry mentions they can never be satisfied.

“It’s not the money it’s feeling— you don’t feel anything and we feel too violently.”

I’ll keep mentioning that quote until I’m blue in the face honestly, it goes right alongside “things are rough all over” Differences stem especially from their reactions and behaviors in response to what’s rough. Some hardships are universal but don’t mishear me as a good portion of it is also class issues because the Reason a Soc might drink himself into oblivion is way different from why a Greaser might.

Beyond Two-bits explaination I’m sad we loose more of the talk between Cherry and Pony on emotions and money. How people are people and they’re all a lot more similar than one might think (despite the contrasting I’ve been doing in this post it’s very true). And talking about his brothers. In the movie it’s a little weird as he only brought up Soda once but she “feels like she knows him” and he brings up sunsets to her later in the movie and they never mentioned it here! Unless they’re trying to imply they had more of a convo on the short walk to the parking lot but I’m not buying that.

Ponyboy being resentful (not that he’s wrong for it) because how hard everyone he knows has it compared to Soc’s. How he has to learn though the novel that “things are rough all over” isn’t that everyone has the same troubles/level of trouble. As they’re certainly worse off; it’s about empathy and everyone being human. That some might be better off but that doesn’t mean they’re entirely without problems. That not everyone is out for a fight all the time.

It’s just a shame as this scene adds so much context to the world, social circles and the moral of the literal freaking novel. The compare/contrast with their lives is pretty important… I digress.

[friedwizardwhispers]

Small things I love about the Septimus Heap books:

This is a universe where you can have an actual pet rock. Petroc Trelawney has my whole heart and should also have yours.

At one point, an iguana was mowing the loan

The misadventures of Stanley, the rat having to deal with the Heaps (tm) in every book and his failed marriage and the adoption of his children + his job. He is doing his best, okay ?

Grandpa Benji went into the forest one day and never came back, living his life as a tree int he forest.

Sam. I know he is not little but I love Sam Heap and he deserves to be appreciated (the moments between him and Sep are great)

Medieval world ? Yes totally. Is that a submarine and an elevator ? Yes. Don't worry about it. There is no implications here of this being a post-apocalyptic futuristic world. What are you talking about ?

✨Jenna and Septimus killed a man ✨.

And considering what Sep says to her after and the fact that he was a child soldier without a name until he was 10,it probably wasn't the first time for him

Sleuth, Simon's emotional support tennis ball. It's very busy considering Simon is Simon and would need a lot of emotional support. It is also doing its best and should stop being taken by little brats .

Marcia and her fashion choices (tm). Does she need the pointy purple python shoes ? Nooooo. We wouldn't have her without them though.

The illustrations. They are so good. I love them so much.

You can add more if you want..

[littlestarbigsky]

NEEEDDDDD SOMETHING CHERRYFANTA (chetcherrycola) RUMBLE RELATED IF UR UP FOR THATTTT

so anon what’s it like to live inside my brain?? bc i had this idea collecting dust in my wips folder for WEEKS before this ask was sent so THANK YOU for giving me a reason to write it hehe <33

hope this is okay🩷

“it’s been an hour… they should be here by now!” cherry cried as she paced across her bedroom in the same path she had been walking for the better part of twenty minutes.

“i’m sure they’re okay, cher,” marcia said from cherry’s bed, where she had been working on an embroidery hoop, even though she hadn’t made a stitch in well over half an hour.

“you don’t know that,” cherry flopped down on the bed, her face buried in a teddy bear.

“actually, i do,” marcia smiled, and cherry looked up. marcia was pointing towards the window, and when cherry turned around, she gasped loudly.

chet was leaning against the windowsill, soaking wet and covered in mud, his nose bleeding, one of his eyes almost swollen shut. cherry ran over to the window, grabbing a towel from the rack on the way over, and pushed the window open. it was pouring down rain outside, which wouldn’t have been something cherry was worried about if it hadn’t been so cold all week.

“oh god, get in here, you’re gonna freeze!” she wrapped the towel around chet’s shaking shoulders as he sat down on her floor, using the corners to gently dry some of the water from his face.

“soda’s coming soon,” chet winced as cherry touched a bruise while wiping away some of the mud. he spotted marcia on the bed and waved to her, “two-bit was heading towards the west side last i saw him, i think if you hurry you can beat him to your place. he was a little roughed up but he seemed okay.”

marcia let out a gasp and hurried out of the room.

“what happened to pulling your punches? i thought you two were gonna take it easy.” cherry had moved on to toweling chet’s hair dry. a part of him wished she would stop, his head was starting to hurt now that the adrenaline from the fight was beginning to ebb.

“we did,” chet gasped, grabbing her wrist gently and pushing her hands away from his head. “but it was a nasty fight, it would have been obvious if we didn’t even try.”

cherry sat back on her heels, “you think a shower and some cuddles would help?”

chet nodded, and she leaned forward to gently kiss his forehead before standing up and giving him her hands to pull him up next to her. he slowly followed her into her bathroom, watching her turn on the shower and pull out the bin of clothes she hid under the sink for him and soda. cherry grabbed a crewneck and some sweatpants for soda and threw them on the bed for when he got there. she was halfway through helping chet unbutton his muddy madras shirt when there was another tap on her window.

“shit,” chet craned his neck to try to get a better look out the bathroom door. “that’s probably soda…”

“i’ll take care of him, you go shower,” she assured him. he seemed to hesitate, wanting to see soda, “i’ve got him, he’ll be okay.”

cherry patted his shoulder quickly and hurried back into her room, shutting the bathroom door behind her. she pushed the window open, and helped soda through, wrapping him in a fresh, dry towel.

it was obvious from the moment she saw him that he was in much worse shape than chet had been. his lip was busted wide open, there was a slice across one of his cheeks, and cherry was nervous that his ribs were bruised or broken, if his little winces and gasps whenever he moved were anything to go on. as if all that wasn’t enough, cherry could hear the smallest bits of a wheeze under his breath.

“baby, what happened? chet didn’t do this did he? i thought you said you two were gonna keep each other safe,” cherry pleaded with soda, using a corner of the towel to try and stop his lip from bleeding so much. soda didn’t answer her, just shuddered and fell limply into her arms. she tucked his head under her chin and ran her hands through his hair, trying to ignore how much grease was coming off on her fingers.

“they got us,” soda gasped after a minute, his voice full of tears. “on our way over here, they found me ‘nd two-bit…”

the weight of soda’s words washed over cherry and landed like a physical blow. she felt tears of anger and hurt burning in her eyes. the rumble hadn’t been enough, they still had to jump the boys for what? for being on the wrong side of town?

“is chet okay? did he make it back?” soda seemed to realize that he couldn’t see their boyfriend and sat up quickly, only to gasp and grab at his ribs.

“hey, hey, calm down, she held his face in her hands gently. “he’s here, he’s okay, he’s just in the shower because he was all muddy. do you wanna hop in there once he’s done or do you just wanna get changed and lay down?”

soda didn’t respond at first, just looked sadly up at her and mumbled, “…don’ wanna be alone.”

cherry felt something in her heart break, “that’s okay, we can just rest… oh, honey…”

soda blinked and a few tears rolled down his cheeks; pain, delayed panic, fear, it didn’t matter, he couldn’t keep himself together anymore. cherry pulled him in gently and held him close as he cried into her shoulder. he hiccuped and pulled back to wipe some of the blood from his lip onto the towel.

cherry brushed some of his hair back and kissed his forehead, “let’s get you dry and changed, that’ll probably help you feel much better.”

she stood up slowly, reaching out her hands and helping soda get back on his feet, limping slightly behind her as he followed her to the bathroom. he didn’t protest as she got him get out of his cold, wet clothes, dried his hair gently, and helped him into his set of warm, dry, pajamas, all the while with the white noise of chet in the shower next to them.

cherry was sitting on the sink and was halfway through cleaning soda’s split lip when chet pushed the shower curtain open, sighing in relief seeing soda safe. he dried himself off, stepped out of the shower, and walked over to hug soda from behind, careful to avoid the bruises blossoming over soda’s ribs.

“you’re okay…” chet nuzzled his nose into soda’s neck.

soda leaned his head against chet’s and sighed, “no thanks to trip...”

chet looked up for a moment, his eyes briefly glassing over as he realized what sofa meant, before pressing a kiss to soda’s shoulder, “i’m so sorry, baby.”

cherry threw away the gauze she had been using and smiled at the two of them, “alright, you two need some rest, we’ll go get comfy, you get dressed.”

chet nodded and closed the door behind them gently. cherry laid down on the bed and soda crawled up next to her, silently ushering her into the middle of the bed.

“i get to be in the middle tonight?” she smiled fondly at him, smoothing some of his hair back.

soda nodded, a smile tugging at his lips, “he needs you, too.”

chet opened the bathroom door a few minutes later, his pajama pants slightly too short for his long legs, but he didn’t seem to mind. in fact he just seemed to care that the blankets were warm and cherry and soda were waiting for him.

they curled up on the bed together, soda curled up into her side and chet’s head pillowed against her shoulder. usually it was soda who liked to stay in the middle, but they both needed her tonight.

she dragged her fingers through chet’s damp hair, her other hand tracing the lines over soda’s back, his muscles, his spine, his ribs. neither of the boys managed to stay awake for much longer, and even though cherry couldn’t sleep for a while from the stress of the night, it was worth it to see them both so peaceful, at ease for the first time in she didn’t even know how long. it broke her heart and stitched it right back up again to think that she was a safe enough place for both of them that they could just rest.

eventually she dozed off, sandwiched between her boys, both of them curled around her protectively.